ughing at the expense of his mother, who blushed,
though she did not see what was wrong, when she realized that she had made
a blunder of some kind.

"Better not have said anything," whispered Mrs. Blossom in retaliation; for
hitherto she had had a monopoly of all the blunders."

"Will you tell me, Sarah, which is the left bank of a river, for it appears
that I don't know," added the lady out loud.

"The left bank of the Ganges is the one Benares is on," replied the worthy
woman; and she was greeted with a roar of laughter, and a volley of
applause started by the live boys who were making their way across India.

"Quite right, madam!" exclaimed Sir Modava, applauding with the others. "It
may be a matter of no particular consequence; but you will excuse me for
saying that the left bank is the one on your left as you go down the
stream, and not at all as you go up."

"I remember now, for I learned that in my geography when I first went to
school; and it is strange that I should have forgotten it," added Mrs.
Belgrave.

"We know just where Benares is now," Sir Modava proceeded. "It is the
largest city in this part of India with the exception of Lucknow, to which
it stands next, or sixth among those of the country, having a population of
219,467. It extends along the Ganges for three miles; and the shore is
lined continuously with staircases, called _ghats_, which lead up to
the temples, palaces, and the vast number of houses on the banks of the
river. The stream sweeps around the place like a crescent, presenting one
of the finest views you ever saw, with the ornamented fronts of dwellings,
public offices, and a forest of towers, pinnacles, and turrets. To the
Hindus it is the most sacred city known to them.

"When I was a boy I came here for the first time, brought by my father on
account of the religious character of the place, if I may call anything
idolatrous by such a name. But the city, when you get into it, will
disappoint you. It is like Constantinople, very beautiful to look at from
the Bosporus, or the Golden Horn; but its dirty, narrow streets disgust
you. I am afraid this will be your experience in Benares. You will be
obliged to forego the luxury of carriages in making your tours through the
place, for the streets are so narrow and crowded that it is impossible to
get along with a vehicle. An elephant is equally impracticable, and even in
a palanquin your progress would be so slow that you would lose all