loat before our eyes; lights from the shore grew
indistinct, and our little group most abject; but the landing place at
length was in sight, and we had kept our carriage awaiting our return.
We were driven through dark, narrow streets to the garden of a temple,
where lived the holy man of Benares. We remained in our vehicle until
our guide ascertained whether we could have an interview. It was 9:00
p. m., but being American tourists, we were admitted. He was a man
apparently sanctified by his mode of living, not unlike that of Buddha.
He was emaciated, and as we approached him, he arose from his cot not
entirely nude, but a simple loin cloth was his only clothing. A canopy
was above his bed, and that was his home, day and night. He is a
profound Hindoo scholar, and without doubt will be canonized after
death. His manner toward us was most cordial and especially towards the
one of our group who hailed from Chicago. He spoke through an
interpreter, saying that the governor of Chicago had called on him
before the World's Fair, urging the holy man to visit him at the time of
the exhibition, but he could not think of ever leaving India. He then
sent for his book of registration and showed us the name registered as
Carter H. Harrison. We were asked to write our names, which we did, and
were then offered by an attendant fruits and given a book containing his
own life to date. He was born in 1833, married at twelve years of age,
and was a father at eighteen. Like Buddha, he withdrew from all natural
ties and set himself apart for a religious life. When asked if he did
not feel the cold night air to be injurious, his reply was in his
graceful gesture pointing heavenward, and in his signal language made us
understand that under a watchful eye no harm could befall him.

The country from Benares to Lucknow is but little different from what we
have already passed, though the distance is 190 miles. Population,
250,000. Manufacturers of carpets, rugs, gold lace and embroideries are
found here, and seemingly the natives are interested in their
employment, but are poor and oppressed. The remains of mausoleums and
palaces attest former grandeur before its ownership was absolutely in
the hands of its conquerors. Hotel accommodations are poor. We drove to
the park to "Leeundea Bagh," where during the mutiny of 1857 two
thousand mutineers were killed within two hours--Sir Colin Campbell
under command. The residency was built in 1800 by Sahon