ly wrong in the modes of the
governing power. This part of India is noted for the excellence and
prolific yield of its sugar crops. From here, also, indigo and saltpetre
are exported in large quantities. Along the route traversed by the
railway we see fruit-trees of various sorts native to this section, such
as tamarinds, almonds, mangos, oranges, cocoanuts, and other products of
the palm family. Temples, centuries in age and quite in ruins, come into
view now and again, often adjacent to a cluster of low mud hovels. From
the branches of the trees flit birds of such fantastic colors as to
cause exclamations of surprise. Occasional specimens of the
bird-of-paradise are seen, with its long and graceful tail-feathers
glittering in the sunshine and presenting an array of bright colors
which are not preserved upon this bird in captivity. Tall flamingoes in
snowy plumage, just touched with scarlet on either wing, fly lazily over
the ponds, or stand by the banks resting quietly upon one long, slim
leg. Parrots abound in carnival hues, and buff-colored doves, with soft
white rings of feathers about their necks, coquet lovingly together.

Benares, the first large city on the united Ganges and Jumna, may be
called the citadel of Hindooism, containing about a hundred and fifty
thousand permanent inhabitants and as many more floating population,
composed of pilgrims constantly coming and going. What Jerusalem is to
the Jew, Rome to the Roman Catholic, Mecca to the Mohammedan, Benares is
to the Hindoo. It is supposed by many to be the oldest known habitation
of man. Twenty-five centuries ago, when Rome was unknown and Athens was
in its youth, Benares was already famous. It is situated on the left
bank of the Ganges, to bathe in which river insures to the devout Hindoo
forgiveness of all sins and an easy passport to the regions of the
blest. Here, as in Calcutta, cremation is constantly going on beside the
river. While we are looking at the scene there comes a family group
bearing a body to the funeral pile. It is covered by a linen sheet. In
the folded hands are white rosebuds, and orange blossoms encircle the
marble brow. There is no apparent lack of heart-felt grief. It is the
body of a young maiden decked for her bridal with death. After a few
moments the red flames wind themselves ravenously about the youthful
body, and quickly all is blackness and ashes.

Benares is mostly supported by the presence of pilgrims, but there is
ma