to
this mission, was only able to spend three months in the hills in the
course of the year, while for the other nine he took the children under
his instruction back with him to Bhaugulpore.

At Bankipore, the Bishop met Padre Giulio Cesare, still a remarkably
handsome and intelligent-looking little man, and speaking warmly of Henry
Martyn. Dinapore, that first station of Martyn's, had since his time
fallen into a very unsatisfactory state, owing to the carelessness of his
successor, though it was newly come into better hands.

On the contrary, at Buxar, the Fort-adjutant, Captain Field, had so
influenced all around, though without a chaplain, that, though the Bishop
could not give the place a Sunday, his Saturday evening service in the
verandah was thronged, the English soldiers coming with Prayer-books and
making the responses, besides numerous Hindoos, many of them the
Christian wives and children of the soldiers. There was a boys' school
kept by a converted Mahometan, and one for girls by "Mrs. Simpson," a
native of Agra, converted by Mr. Corrie, and the widow of a sergeant.
She, however, got no scholars but the half-caste daughters of the
soldiers. A little boy of four years old, son to an English sergeant
with a native wife, was baptized, and the Bishop was delighted with the
reverent devotion of the spectators. Cureem Musseh, once a Sepoy
havildar, had his sword and sash hung over the desk, where, in a clean
white cotton dress and turban, he presided over his scholars, whom he had
taught to read Hindostanee, and to say the Creed, Lord's Prayer, and
Commandments, with a short exposition of each. The school served them
likewise to hold prayer-meetings in, and, on rare occasions, a clergyman
visited them.

The Bishop's entrance into the sacred city of Benares he describes to his
wife thus: "I will endeavour to give you an account of the concert, vocal
and instrumental, which saluted us as we entered the town:--

"_First beggar_.--Agha Sahib! Judge Sahib, Burra Sahib, give me some
pice; I am a fakir; I am a priest; I am dying of hunger!

"_Bearers trotting under the tonjon_.--Ugh! ugh!--Ugh! ugh!

"_Musicians_.--Tingle, tangle; tingle, tangle; bray, bray, bray.

"_Chuprassee_, _clearing the way with his sheathed sabre_.--Silence! Room
for the Lord Judge, the Lord Priest. Get out of the way! Quick! (_Then
gently patting and stroking the broad back of a Brahmin bull_.) Oh, good
man, move.

"_Bull_,