and see if
this doesn't remind you of a kaleidoscope.

Thousands and thousands of people are passing and repassing up and down,
or sitting on every scrap of available building. They flow out over the
steps and down into the water itself. They are standing there knee-deep,
waist-deep, shoulder-deep, with hardly any clothes on their glistening
brown and yellow bodies, diligently throwing the water over themselves,
washing their long, straight, black hair in it, or even drinking it!

Ah, what is that gruesome object? Take care, don't touch it as it floats
by; it looks like a bit of charred stick, but indeed it is half-burnt
human bones!

We have already seen a few sacred rivers in our wanderings--the gigantic
Nile, the tiny Jordan, and now we see the Ganges, which in size comes
between the two, being one thousand four hundred and fifty-five miles in
length. Quite a respectable-sized river that! The Hindus regard it with
such reverence that they count bathing in it a religious act, and when
they die their one desire is to be burned beside it so that their bones
may be cast into its waters. If we row a little way up we shall see this
ceremony at the Burning Ghauts. There are funeral pyres of wood where
the relatives are carrying out the last offices for the dead. Some
prowling pariah dogs, of the lean yellow breed, and a few impertinent
crows are hovering about, hoping that some scraps may fall to their
share. The dead bodies are rolled up in white and red cloth and lie with
their feet in the blessed water awaiting their burning.

Men are bringing logs of wood to pile upon the pyres, others are poking
about in the ashes of the last burned to see if maybe an anklet or
ear-ring has fallen off and may be scavenged.

The red flames rise and lick up the sides, while the enveloping smoke
wreathes around the corpse. Remember that at one time the miserable
widow of the dead man would have mounted that gruesome throne and be
sitting there to be burnt alive. This is forbidden by law now, as indeed
it was forbidden by some of the wisest of the Indian kings too, only
until the British came there never was any power strong enough to
enforce it.

Benares is the religious capital of India; it takes the place that
Canterbury does with us, and it has been the place of pilgrimage for
generations.

We have met with Buddhists in Ceylon and Mohammedans in Egypt. There are
Buddhists among the natives of India too, though not many, consid