Chapter IV: Part 4

The Chinese occupy a peculiar position in Singapore. It is the only British crown colony in which the Chinese is accorded any equality with white men. Here in the early days the Chinese were welcomed not only for their ability to do rough pioneer work, but because of their commercial ability. From the outset they have controlled the trade with their countrymen in the Malayan States, while at the same time they have handled all the produce raised by Chinese. They have never done much in the export trade, nor have they proved successful in carrying on the steamship business, because they can not be taught the value of keeping vessels in fine condition and of catering to the tastes of the foreign traveling public. On the other hand, the great Chinese merchants of Singapore have amassed large fortunes and have built homes which surpass those of rich Europeans. On Orchard road, which leads to the Botanical Gardens, are several Chinese residences which excite the traveler's wonder, because of the beauty of the buildings and grounds and the lavishness of ornament and decorations. These merchants, whose names are known throughout the Malay States and as far as Hongkong and Manila, represent the Chinese at his best, freed from all restrictions and permitted to give his commercial genius full play.

STRANGE NIGHT SCENES IN THE CITY OF SINGAPORE

The Chinese element in Singapore is so overwhelming that it arrests the attention of the most careless tourist, but no one appreciates the enormous number of the Mongolians in Singapore until he visits the Chinese and Malay districts at night. With a friend I started out one night about eight o'clock. It was the first night in Singapore that one could walk with any comfort. We went down North Bridge road, one of the main avenues on which an electric car line runs. After walking a half-mile we struck off to the right where the lights were bright. Just as soon as we left the main avenue we began to see life as it is in Singapore after dark. The first native street was devoted to small hawkers, who lined both sides of the narrow thoroughfare. Each had about six feet of space, and each had his name and his number as a licensed vender. The goods were of every description and of the cheapest quality. They had been brought in small boxes, and on these sat the Chinese merchant and frequently his wife and children. A flare or two from cheap nut oil illuminated the scene.

Passing in front of these stands was a constantly moving crowd of Chinese, Malays and East Indians of many races, all chaffering and talking at the top of their voices. At frequent intervals were street tea counters, where food was sold, evidently at very low prices. Ranged along on benches were men eating rice and various stews that were taken piping hot from kettles resting on charcoal stoves. One old Chinese woman had a very condensed cooking apparatus. Over two small braziers she had two copper pots, each divided into four compartments and in each of these different food was cooking.

Back of the street peddlers were the regular stores, all of which were open and apparently doing a good business. As in Hongkong, the Chinese workmen labor until ten or eleven o'clock at night, even carpenters and basket-makers working a full force by the light of gas or electricity. The recent events in China had their reflex here. All the makers of shirts and clothing were feverishly busy cutting up and sewing the new flag of the revolution. Long lines of red and blue bunting ran up and down these rooms, and each workman was driving his machine like mad, turning out a flag every few minutes. The fronts of most of these stores were decorated with flags of the revolution.

The most conspicuous places of business on these streets were the large restaurants, where hundreds of Chinese were eating their chow at small tables. The din was terrific, and the lights flashing on the naked yellow skins, wet with perspiration, made a strange spectacle. Next to these eating houses in number were handsomely decorated places in which Chinese women plied the most ancient trade known to history. Some of these women were very comely, but few were finely dressed, as in this quarter cheapness seemed to be the rule in everything. Around some of these places crowds of Chinese gathered and exchanged comment apparently on attractive new arrivals in these resorts of vice. Many of the inmates were young girls, fourteen or sixteen years old.

Less numerous than these houses were the opium dens, scattered throughout all these streets. These haunts of the drug that enslaves were long and narrow rooms, with a central passage and a long, low platform on each side. This platform was made of fine hardwood, and by constant use shone like old mahogany. Ranged along on these platforms wide enough for two men, facing each other and using a common lamp, were scores of opium smokers. As many as fifty men could be accommodated in each of these large establishments. The opium was served as a sticky mass, and each man rolled some of it on a metal pin and cooked it over the lamp. When cooked, the ball of opium was thrust into a small hole in the bamboo opium pipe. Then the smoker, lying on his side, drew the flame of the lamp against this opium and the smoke came up through the bamboo tube of the pipe and was inhaled. One cooking of opium makes never more than three whiffs of the pipe, sometimes only two. The effect on the novice is very exhilarating, but the seasoned smoker is forced to consume more and more of the drug to secure the desired effect. In one of these dens we watched a large Chinese prepare his opium. He took only two whiffs, but the second one was so deep that the smoke made the tears run out of his eyes. His companion was so far under the influence of the drug that his eyes were glazed and he was staring at some vision called up by the powerful narcotic. One old Chinese, seeing our interest in the spectacle, shook his head and said: "Opium very bad for Chinaman; make him poor; make him weak." Further along in this quarter we came upon several huge Chinese restaurants, ablaze with light and noisy with music. We were told that dinners were being given in honor of revolutionist victories.

In all our night ramble through the Chinese and Malay quarters of Singapore we saw not a single European, yet we met only courteous treatment everywhere, and our curiosity was taken as a compliment. Singapore is well policed by various races, among which the Sikhs and Bengali predominate. An occasional Malay is met acting as a police officer, but it is evident that such work does not appeal to the native of the Straits Settlements.

On our return to the hotel we crossed a large estuary which is spanned by several bridges. Here were hundreds of small boats moored to the shore, the homes of thousands of river people. This business of transportation on the water is in the hands of the Malays, who are most expert boatmen. It is a pleasure to watch one of these men handle a huge cargo boat. With his large oar he will scull rapidly, while his assistant uses a long pole.

One of the sights of Singapore is the Botanical Gardens, about three and one-half miles from town. The route is along Orchard road and Tanglin road, two beautiful avenues that are lined with comfortable bungalows of Europeans, and magnificent mansions of Chinese millionaires. The gardens occupy a commanding position overlooking the surrounding country, and they have been laid out with much skill. The drives are bordered with ornamental trees from all lands. The most beautiful of all the palms is the Traveler's tree from Madagascar. It is a palm the fronds of which grow up like a regular fan. At a little distance it looks like a peacock's tail spread to the full extent. It is so light, graceful and feathery that it satisfies the eye as no other palm does. Of other palms there are legion, from the Mountain Cabbage palm of the West Indies to endless varieties from Malay, Madagascar and western Africa.

CHARACTERISTIC SIGHTS IN BURMA'S LARGEST CITY

One of the characteristic sights of Rangoon is that of the big Siamese elephants piling teak in the lumber yards along Rangoon river. It is the same sight that Kipling pictured in the lines in his perfect ballad, _Mandalay_, which an Englishman who knows his Burma well says is "the finest ballad in the world, with all the local color wrong."

These lumber yards are strung along the river, but are easily reached by an electric car. Several are conducted by Chinese, but the finest yard is in charge of the government. At the first Chinese yard was the largest elephant in the city, a huge animal fifty-five years old, with great tusks admirably fitted for lifting large logs. A dozen tourists were grouped about the yard in the early morning, for these elephants are only worked in the morning and evening hours, when it is cool. An East Indian coolie was mounted on his back, or rather just back of his ears, with his legs dangling loose. With his naked feet he indicated whether the elephant was to go to the right or left, and when he wished to emphasize an order he hit the beast a blow upon the head with a heavy steel rod.

Much of the work which this elephant did was spectacular, as it showed the enormous strength of the animal as well as his great intelligence. He took up on his tusks a log of teak, the native wood of this country, as hard as hickory and much heavier, and, with the aid of his trunk, stood with it at attention until every camera fiend had taken his picture. Then his driver made the huge beast move a large log of teak from a muddy hole by sheer force of the head and neck. The animal dropped almost to his knees, and then putting forth all his strength he actually pushed the log, which weighed about a ton and one-half, through the mud up to the gangplank of the saw. Then he piled several huge logs one upon the other, to show his skill in this work.

Leaving this yard the party walked about a half-mile through trails, with marshy land on each side, to the big government timber yard. Here were thousands of logs which had been cut far up in the teak forests of the interior, dragged through the swamps of the Irrawaddy by elephants, then floated down the great river to Rangoon. All the logs in this yard were marked with a red cross to signify that they belonged to the government. Down by the river shore, where the ground was so soft that their feet sank deep into the slimy mud, were five elephants engaged in hauling logs up from the river to the dry ground near the shore.

The chief object of interest in Rangoon is the great Shwe Dagon pagoda, which dominates the whole city. Its golden summit may be seen for many miles gleaming above dull green masses of foliage. This pagoda is the center of the Buddhist faith, as it is said to contain veritable relics of Gautama as well as of the three Buddhas who came before him. Thousands of pilgrims from all parts of Burmah, Siam, Cochin-China, Korea, Ceylon and other Oriental countries visit the pagoda every year and their offerings at the various shrines amount to millions of dollars. The pagoda differs absolutely from the temples of Japan and China in form, material and the arrangement of lesser shrines; but its impressiveness is greatly injured by the presence of hundreds of hucksters, who sell not only curios and souvenirs of the pagoda, but food and drink.

The pagoda, which is about two miles from the business center of Rangoon, is built upon a mound. The circumference is thirteen hundred and fifty-five feet and the total height from the base is three hundred and seventy feet. It is constructed in circular style, its concentric rings gradually lessening in size until the top is reached. This is surmounted by a gilt iron work or "ti" on which little bells are hung. This "ti" was a gift from the late king of Burmah, who spent a quarter of a million dollars on its decoration with gold and precious stones. The mound on which the pagoda stands is divided into two rectangular terraces. The upper terrace, nine hundred feet by six hundred and eighty-five, is one hundred and sixty-six feet above the level of the ground. The ascent is by three flights of brick stairs, the fourth flight at the back being closed to permit of the building of fortifications by which the English may defend the pagoda in any emergency. The southern or main entrance is made conspicuous by two enormous leogryphs, which are of plastered brick.

Up these steep stairs the visitor climbs, pestered by loathsome beggars and importuned on every hand to buy relics, flowers and articles of gold and silver. One would fancy he was in a great bazar rather than in the entrance hall of the finest monument in the world erected in honor of Buddha. The four chapels ranged around the rectangular terrace are ornamented by figures of the sitting Buddha. Then one visits a score of magnificently decorated shrines, in which are Buddhas in every variety of position. In one is the reclining Gautama in alabaster, in whose honor the pagoda was built. In others are Gautamas of brass, ivory, glass, clay and wood. Before many of these shrines candles are burning and devotees are seated or are praying with their faces bowed to the stone pavement. On one side of the platform is a row of miniature pagodas, all encrusted with decoration of gold and precious stones, the gifts of thousands of pious devotees. Among these shrines are many small bells which are rung by worshippers when they deposit their offerings, and one great bell (the third largest in the world, weighing forty-two and one-fourth tons), given by King Tharrawaddy.

The eyes of the visitor are wearied with the splendid decoration of the chapels, the gilding, the carving, the inlaid glass work. It seems as though there was no end to the rows on rows of Buddhas in every conceivable position. Interspersed among them are tall poles from which float long streamers of bamboo bearing painted historical pictures, including those of the capture of the pagoda by the British. Thousands crowd these platforms. Some offer gifts to various shrines, others say prayer after prayer, still others strike bells to give warning to evil spirits that they have offered up their petitions to Buddha, others hang eagerly on the words of fortune tellers. All buy food and drink and the whole place suggests in its good cheer a country picnic rather than a pilgrimage to the greatest Buddhist shrine in the world.

When one has left the pagoda he bears the memory of magnificent decorations, of vast crowds, but of little real reverence. The great golden pagoda itself is the dominating feature in every view of Rangoon, just as the Washington monument dominates all other structures in Washington.

Queen's Road in
Hongkong. This is One
of the Most Picturesque
Streets in the Orient,
With Large Stores and
Splendid Gilded Signs on
Each Side. The Buildings
Are so Constructed
That the Sidewalk
Becomes a Shaded
Arcade]

Flower Market in a
Hongkong Street--One
of the Prettiest
Sights in Hongkong, as
Orchids, Irises, Lilies
and Other Blossoms Are
Always on Sale]

Coolies Carrying
Burdens at Hongkong.
Chinese Coolies Using
the Bamboo Pole Are
a Common Sight in
Hongkong. They Carry
Several Hundred
Pounds, Moving at
a Dog Trot]

The Spacious Foreign
Bund at Hongkong,
With the Row of Lofty
Business Buildings.
The Ferry Takes One
to Kowloon, the
Native City, Opposite
Hongkong]

Chinese Junks in
Hongkong Harbor, These
Junks, With Their
Curious Sails of Matting
and Bamboo Spars,
Form One of the
Features of Every
Chinese Harbour or
Sea View]

View of the Water-front
at Canton. This General
View of the Pearl
River and the Canton
Bund, or Water-front,
Shows the Enormous
Floating Population
on the River]

The New Chinese Bund
at Canton. The Chinese
Recently Completed
This Bund.
It Contrasts Strongly
With the Ancient
Walled City, a Stone's
Throw in the Rear]

A Confucian Festival at
Singapore. This Shows
the Elaborate Street
Decorations to
Commemorate the
Festival of
Confucius in the
Chinese Quarter]

A Main Street in the
Native Quarter of
Singapore. The Shops
Are Small and the
Shopkeepers Live in
the Rooms Above. The
Flags Displayed Are
Those of the New
Chinese Republic]

The Y. M. C. A.
Building at Singapore.
This Fine Structure Has
Many Counterparts in
the Chief Oriental
Cities, Where the
Association is Doing a
Great Work]

The Great Shwe Dagon Pagoda at Rangoon.
The Finest Buddhist Temple in all Indo-China, Containing
Alleged Relics of Gautama. It is Gilded from Base
to Summit and May be Seen Forty Miles at Sea]

Entrance to the Shwe Dagon Pagoda.
On Each Side is an Enormous Leogryph, Built of
Brick and Covered With Plaster. The
Porch Has a Superbly Carved
Roof]

Burmese
Worshipping Before
Shrine in the Pagoda at
Rangoon. These Figures,
Mainly Women and
Children, Show the
National Dress. Note
the Richness of
Decoration of the
Shrines.]

Riverside Scene at
Rangoon. Here Are the
Native Cargo Boats
Which Bring Rice and
Other Products Down
the Irrawaddy.
Rangoon Has a Trade
Second Only to That
of Calcutta and
Bombay]

Trained Elephant Piling
Teak at Rangoon.
This Is One of the
Great Sights of the
Orient. The Elephants
Work in the Lumber
Yards Along the
Water-front and Lift
Logs That Weigh
One and One-Half
Tons]

Palm Avenue, Royal Lakes, Rangoon.
This Characteristic View is From a Pretty Park in
Rangoon. It Shows the Summit of the Pagoda
in the Distance]

INDIA, THE LAND
OF TEMPLES, PALACES
AND MONUMENTS

CALCUTTA, THE MOST BEAUTIFUL OF ORIENTAL CITIES

Calcutta, the great commercial port of northern India and the former capital of the Empire, is the most beautiful Oriental city, not even excepting Hongkong. Its main claim to this distinction is the possession of the famous Maidan or Esplanade, which runs along the Hoogly river for nearly two miles and which far surpasses the Luneta of Manila in picturesqueness. The Maidan is three-quarters of a mile wide at its beginning and it broadens out to one and one-quarter miles in width at its lower end. Government House, the residence of the Viceroy, is opposite the northern end of the Maidan, while at the southern end is Belvedere, the headquarters of the Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal. With historic Fort William on one side and most of the large hotels, the big clubs and the Imperial Museum on the other, the Maidan is really the center of all civic life. At the southeast end is the race course; not far away is the fine cathedral. Near by are the beautiful Eden Gardens (the gift of the sisters of the great Lord Auckland), which are noteworthy for the Burmese pagoda, transported from Prome and set up here on the water's edge. It is seldom that a city is laid out on such magnificent lines as is Calcutta. It reminds one of Washington in its picturesque boulevards and avenues, all finely shaded with noble mango trees. And it also has the distinction of green turf even in the heat of summer, owing to the heavy dews that refresh the grass like showers.

Calcutta is associated in the minds of most readers with the infamous Black Hole into which one hundred and forty-six wretched white people were crowded on a hot night of June in 1750 and out of which only twenty-three emerged alive on the following morning. The Black Hole was the regimental jail of old Fort William and its site is now marked by a pavement of black marble and a tablet adjoining the fine postoffice building, while across the street is an imposing monument to the memory of the victims, whose names are all enumerated. The hole was twenty-two by fourteen feet, while it was only eighteen feet in height. These prisoners who were flung into this little jail were residents of Calcutta who fell into the hands of the Nawab of Murshedabad. Calcutta is also famous as the birthplace of Thackeray, a bust of whom ornaments the art gallery of the Imperial Museum. Scattered about the Maidan are statues of a dozen men whose deeds have shed luster on English arms or diplomacy.

Calcutta, as the first city of India that I had seen, impressed me very strongly, although the native life has been colored somewhat by contact with British and other Europeans. Here, for the first time, one sees ninety-nine out of one hundred people in the streets wearing turbans. Here also the women mingle freely in the streets, wearing long robes which they wind dexterously about their bodies, leaving the lower legs and the right arm bare. A few cover the face, but the great majority leave it exposed. Many are hideously disfigured by large nose rings, while others have small rings or jewels set in one nostril. Nearly every woman wears bracelets on arms and wrists, heavy anklets and, in many cases, massive gold or silver rings on the big toes. In some cases what look like heavy necklaces are wound several times around the ankles. It is the custom of the lower and middle classes not to put their savings in a bank, but to melt down the coin and make it into bracelets or other ornaments, which are worn by their women. Here in Calcutta also one sees for the first time hundreds of men and women wearing the marks of their caste on their foreheads, either painted in red or marked in white with the ash of cow dung.

Although the main streets of Calcutta are distinctly European, a walk of a few blocks in any direction from the main business section will bring you into the native or the Chinese quarter, where the streets are narrow, the houses low between stories and the shops mere holes in the wall, with only a door for ventilation. In one quarter every store is kept by a Chinese and here a large amount of manufacturing is done. In other quarters natives are carrying on all kinds of manufacture, in the same primitive way that they worked two thousand years ago. The carpenter uses tools that are very much like those in an American boy's box of toy tools; the shoemaker does all the work of turning out a finished shoe from the hide of leather on his wall. Outside these stores in the street the most common beast of burden is a small bullock of the size and color of a Jersey cow; These little animals pull enormous loads, and they are so clever that when they see an electric car approaching they will start on the run and clear the track.

Many of the houses in the native quarter of Calcutta are built of adobe, with earthen tiles, which make them bear a strong resemblance to the adobe dwellings of the Spanish-Californians before the American occupation. In many cases very little straw is used in this adobe, for the walls have frequently crumbled away under the heavy rains of winter. Other houses are built of brick, faced with plaster, which is either painted or whitewashed.

What impresses any visitor is the squalor and the wretchedness of these homes of India's poor. The clothing of a whole family is not worth one American dollar, while about ten cents in our money will feed a family of four. The houses have no furniture, except a bed of the most primitive pattern, made of latticed reeds; the smoke from the cooking fire goes up through the roof or else finds its way out the open door; seldom are there any windows, all the air coming in at the open door; the floor of the house is of dirt and on this squat father and mother and the children, with the family goat. In the small shops work is carried on seven days in the week until nine or ten o'clock at night, with an hour for lunch and siesta at midday. The hopelessness of the lot of the Hindoo (who is bound by rigid caste rules to follow in the footsteps of his father) can never be appreciated until one has seen him here in his native land.

For two hours I watched scores of natives taking a wash at the large, free bathing ghat near the pontoon bridge. On the river front is a restaurant, and back of this steps lead down to a spacious platform on the level of the river. A score of men and boys and one woman were taking a bath in the dirty water, which was thick with mud washed up by passing steamers. A few of these bathers had rented towels from an office on the stairs, but the great majority simply rubbed themselves with their hands and then dried in the sun. All washed their faces in the dirty water and rinsed their mouths with it. The men took off their loin clothes and washed these out, then wrapped them about their bodies and came out dripping water. The lone woman was very fat. She waded into the water and when she came out her thin robe clung to her massive form revealing all its curves. She calmly took a seat on the stairs and proceeded to massage her head.

The most interesting place near Calcutta is the Royal Botanical Gardens, situated on the opposite side of the river and about six miles from town. These gardens were laid out in 1786 and they vie with the botanic gardens at Singapore in the variety of trees and shrubs from all parts of the tropics. Here is the great banyan tree which covers one thousand square feet and is one hundred and forty-two years old. At a height of five and one-half feet from the ground the circumference of the main trunk is fifty-one feet; the height is eighty-five feet, while it has five hundred and seventy aerial roots, which have actually taken root in the ground. The tree at a little distance looks like a small grove.

The Imperial Museum at Calcutta is well worth a couple of hours, for it contains one of the finest collections of antiquities in the Orient. The museum is housed in an enormous building facing the Maidan, which has a frontage of three hundred feet and a depth of two hundred and seventy feet. In the ethnological gallery are arranged figures of all the native races of India with their costumes; agricultural implements, fishing and hunting appliances, models of Indian village life, specimens of ancient and modern weapons and many other exhibits. Another room that will repay study is a gallery containing old steel and wood engravings of the great characters in the mutiny, with busts of Clive, Havelock, Outram and Nicholson, and with a life-size bust of Thackeray.

BATHING AND BURNING THE DEAD AT BENARES

It is estimated that one million pilgrims visit the sacred city of Benares every year, and it is these pilgrims that furnish the largest income which the city receives from any source. Here are the most holy shrines of Buddhism; here Vishnu and Siva have their strongholds, and here must come Hindoos from all parts of India to bathe in the sacred waters of the Ganges and to offer up prayers at the many holy shrines in the city's temples.

Benares is sacred because here Buddha first made his residence. The place that he selected was ancient Sarnath, six miles from Benares, which is now a heap of ruins, in which British government experts are delving for remains of the great city that was founded six centuries before the Christian era. At Sarnath Buddha built a great temple and founded a school from which his disciples spread to all parts of India. But after 750 A.D. Buddhism disappeared gradually from India, and Hindooism took its place. The fine temples that now line the Ganges for three miles were built by Maratha princes in the seventeenth century. They also built the scores of bathing ghats that now furnish one of the most picturesque spectacles that the world affords. A ghat in Hindustani is a stone stairway that leads down to the water, and Benares has a succession of these magnificent stairways leading down to the Ganges, overlooked by palaces of many Maharajas and temples built by rulers and priests. No sight more splendid could be conceived than that of these domes and minarets flashing in the rays of the early morning sun while thousands of devout believers crowd the bathing ghats and offer prayers to Vishnu, after they have bathed in the waters of the Ganges; and mourning relatives burn the bodies of their dead after these have had the sacred water poured over their faces.

Hindoos Bathing in the Ganges at Benares.
This is a View of the Dasaswamedh Ghat, the Most
Popular Bathing Place in the Sacred City. Note
the Holy Men Under the Umbrellas, Who
Take Tribute of All Bathers]

The visitor who wishes to see the pious Hindoos bathe in the Ganges goes to the river in the early morning soon after the sun has risen. He descends one of the large ghats and takes a boat, in which he may be rowed down the river past the bathing ghats and the one ghat where the dead are burned. The scene is one that will never be forgotten. Against the clear sky is outlined a succession of domes and spires that mark the position of a score of sacred shrines, with two slender minarets that rise from the mosque built by the great Moslem Emperor, Aurunzeb. The sunlight flashes on these domes and spires and it lights up thousands of bathing floats and stands that line the muddy banks of the river. The floats are dotted with hundreds of bathers and the number of these increases every few minutes. They come by hundreds down the great stone stairways to their favorite bathing places, where, after a thorough bath, they may be shaved or massaged or may listen to the expounding of the Hindoo sacred books by a learned Brahmin sitting in the shade of a huge umbrella. A characteristic feature of this hillside is the number of these large umbrellas, each of which marks the place of a priest or a holy man who has done some marvels of penance that give him a strong hold on the superstitious natives and induce them to pay him well for prayers or a sacred talisman.

With my boat moored near the bank and directly opposite the Manikarnika ghat, the favorite place on the river, I watched the stream of bathers for nearly an hour. The fanatical devotion that will induce a reasonable human being to bathe in the waters of the Ganges seems incredible to anyone from the Western World. The water of the sacred river is here of the consistency of pea soup. The city's sewer pipes empty into the Ganges just above the bathing ghats, and the current carries this filth directly to the place which the Hindoos have selected for their rites. The water is not only muddy and unclean, but it offends the nose. Yet Hindoos of good family bathe here side by side with the poverty stricken. They use the mud of the Ganges in lieu of soap; they scrub their bodies thoroughly, and then they actually take this foul-smelling water in their mouths and clean their teeth with it. This creed of Buddha is a pure democracy, for there is no distinction of class in bathing. Women bathe by the side of men, although they remain covered with the gauze-like garments that are a sop to modesty.

The Manikarnika ghat is the most picturesque of all these bathing places along the Ganges, as the long flight of stone steps is in good preservation and the background of temples and palaces satisfies the eye. The river front for thirty feet is densely crowded with bathers who stand on small floats or go into the shallow water. With a Western crowd so dense as this there would be infringments of individual rights that would lead to quarrels and fights, but the Hindoo is slow to anger, and, like the Japanese, he has great courtesy for his fellows. Hundreds bathed at the ghat while I watched them and no trouble ensued. Nothing could be more striking, nothing more Oriental than the picture of scores of bathers, in bright-hued garments, moving up and down these long flights of massive steps. In the background were a half-dozen temples, the most noteworthy of which is the red-domed temple of the Rajah of Amethi, whose beautiful palace overlooks this scene. Near the water is a curious leaning temple, whose foundations were evidently unsettled by the severe earthquake which destroyed several temples farther down the river.

The busiest men on these bathing ghats are the Hindoo priests, who reap a harvest from the hundreds of pilgrims who visit the ghats during the day. These priests cannot be escaped by the poorest Hindoo. They levy toll from every one who descends these long flights of stairs. One fellow I watched as he sat under his great umbrella. He had his sacred books spread before him, but he was given no leisure for reading them, as a constant stream of clients passed before him. Some of these were regular daily visitors from Benares, who pay a certain rate every week or every month, according to their financial standing. Others were pilgrims who, in their enthusiasm over the sacred Ganges (which they had traveled hundreds of miles to bathe in), were not careful in regard to their fees. Others were mourning relatives who applied for prayers for the corpse which they had brought to the waterside, and still others demanded hurried prayers for the dying, whose last breath would be drawn by the bank of the sacred river. Incidentally the priests sold charms and amulets guaranteed to bring good fortune. Most of the payments were in copper pice, four of which make one of our cents, but many of these priests had great heaps of this coin in front of them, showing that though India may be suffering from a bad harvest the faker may always feed on the fat of the land.

The spectacle, however, which stamps Benares upon the memory is the burning of the dead at a ghat by the Ganges. This ghat is reserved exclusively for the cremation of Hindoo dead. No Mussulman can use it. It was about eight o'clock in the morning when my boat reached this burning ghat. Already one body had been placed on a funeral pyre of wood. The guide said this body was that of a poor man who had no relatives or friends, as the place where the relatives sit until the cremation is complete was empty. Soon, however, two men came rushing down the stone steps with a corpse strapped to a bamboo stretcher. The body was that of a woman, dressed in red garments, which signified that she was a married woman. Unmarried women are arrayed in yellow and other colors, while men must be content with white. The stretcher-bearers placed their burden with its feet in the Ganges and then went in search of wood which is purchased from a dealer. Soon they had a supply, which they piled up in the form of a bier, and on this they placed the woman's corpse. Then one of the men, who, the guide said, was the dead woman's husband, with tears streaming from his eyes, bore some of the water of the Ganges to the bier, exposed the face of the dead and poured the sacred water upon her mouth and her eyes. Then while his companion piled wood above the body the husband sought the low-caste Hindoos who sell fire for burning the body. He soon returned with several large bundles of coarse straw, one of which was smoking. Seven times the husband passed around the bier with the smoking straw before he applied the flame to the wood. The fire licked greedily at the wood, and soon the flames had reached the body. Then the husband and his friend repaired to a stand near by, from which they watched the cremation.

Meanwhile two other bodies had been rushed down to the water's edge. One was evidently that of a wealthy woman, dressed in yellow silk and borne by two richly garbed attendants. The other was that of an old man, attended by his son. The latter was very speedy in securing wood and in building a funeral pyre. Soon the old man's corpse was stretched on the bier and the son was applying the torch. He was a good-looking young fellow, dressed in the clean, white garments of mourning and freshly shaved for the funeral ceremonies. While he was burning the body of his father another corpse of a man was rushed down to the river's edge and placed upon a bier. This body was fearfully emaciated, and when the two attendants raised it in its white shroud, one arm that hung down limp was not larger than that of a healthy five-year-old boy, while the legs were mere skin and bones. It was an ugly sight to see the Ganges water poured over the face of this corpse, which was set in a ghastly grin with wide-open eyes. The man had evidently died while he was being hurried to the burning ghat, as the Hindoos believe that it is evil for one to die in the house. Hence most of the corpses have staring eyes, as they breathed their last on the way to the river.

No solemnity marks this cremation by the river's edge. The relatives who bring down the body haggle over the price of the wood and try to cheapen the sum demanded by the low-caste man for fire for the burning. The greed of the priest who performs the last rite and who prepares the relatives for the cremation is an unlovely sight. All about the burning ghat where the poor dead are being reduced to ashes hundreds are bathing or washing their clothes. The spectacle that so profoundly impresses a stranger is to them so common as to excite no interest.

LUCKNOW AND CAWNPORE, CITIES OF THE MUTINY

Lucknow and Cawnpore are the two cities of India that are most closely associated in the minds of most readers with the great mutiny. The one recalls the most heroic defense in the history of any country; the other recalls the most piteous tragedy in the long record of suffering and death scored against the Sepoys. The British government in both of these cities has raised memorials to the men who gave their lives in defending them and, though the art is inferior in both, the story is so full of genuine courage, loyalty, devotion and self-sacrifice that it will always find eager readers. So the pilgrims to these shrines of the mutiny cannot fail to be touched by the relics of the men and women who showed heroism of the highest order. When one goes through the rooms in the ruined Residency at Lucknow he feels again the thrill with which he first read of the splendid defense made by Sir Henry Lawrence and of the Scotch girl who declared she heard the pipes of the Campbells a day before they actually broke on the ears of the beleaguered garrison. And when one stands in front of the site of the old well at Cawnpore, into which the bleeding bodies of the butchered women and children of the garrison were thrown, the tears come to his eyes over the terrible fate of these poor victims of the cruelty of Nana Sahib. The sight of these Indian cities also makes one appreciate more fully the tremendous odds against which this mere handful of English men and women contended.

Lucknow is the fifth city in size in the Indian Empire. It is reached by a six hours' ride from Benares which is interesting, as the railroad runs through a good farming country, in which many of the original trees have been left. Lucknow at the outbreak of the mutiny was fortunate in the possession of one of the ablest army commanders in the Indian service. Sir Henry Lawrence, when he saw that mutiny was imminent, gathered a large supply of stores and ammunition in the Residency at Lucknow. When the siege began Lawrence found himself in a well-fortified place, with large supplies. About one thousand refugees were in the Residency and the safety of these people was due largely to the massive walls of the building and to the skill and courage with which the defense was handled. In reading the story of this siege of five months, from June to November, it seems incredible that a small garrison could withstand so constant a bombardment of heavy guns and so harassing a fire of small arms; but when you go through the Residency the reason is obvious. Here are the ruins of a building erected by an old Arab chief during the Mohammedan rule in Lucknow. The walls are from three to five feet in thickness, of a kind of flat, red brick like the modern tile. When laid up well in good mortar such walls are as solid as though built of stone. What added to the safety of the building was the great underground apartments, built originally for summer quarters for the old Moslem's harem, but used during the siege as a retreat for the women and children. So well protected were these rooms that only one shell ever penetrated them and this shot did no damage. The building reveals traces of the heavy fire to which it was subjected, but in no case were the walls broken down.

The story of the siege of Lucknow has been told by poets and prose writers for over a half century, but the theme is still full of interest. Tennyson dealt with it in a ballad that is full of fire, each verse ending with the spirited refrain:

And ever upon the topmost roof the banner of England blew.

All that it is necessary to do here is to refresh the reader's memory with the salient events. The besieged were admirably handled by competent officers and they beat off repeated attacks by the mutineers (who outnumbered them more than one hundred to one). Lawrence was fatally wounded on July the second and died two days later. In September General Havelock, after desperate fighting, made his way into Lucknow, but his force was so small that only fifteen hundred men were added to the garrison. It was not until November the seventeenth that the garrison was finally relieved by the union of forces under Havelock and Outram and Sir Colin Campbell. Never in the history of warfare has a garrison had to endure greater hardships than that of Lucknow. Incessant attacks by night and day kept the small force worn out by constant guard duty and, to add to their miseries, intense heat was made more merciless by swarms of flies. When one bears in mind that the Indian summer brings heat of from one hundred and ten to one hundred and forty degrees it may be seen how great was the courage of the garrison that could fight bravely and cheerfully under such heavy odds. The memorial tablets at Lucknow, Delhi, Cawnpore and other places bear witness to this heroism of the British soldier during the mutiny, but you do not fully appreciate this splendid courage until you see the country and feel the power of its sun.

Cawnpore, which is only three hours' ride from Lucknow, is another city of India that recalls the saddest tragedy of the mutiny. Here it was that bad judgment of the general in charge led to great suffering and the final butchery of all except a few of the residents. Sir Hugh Wheeler, a veteran officer, wisely doubted the fidelity of the Sepoys and decided to establish a place where he could store supplies and assure a safe asylum for the women and children; but, instead of selecting the magazine, which was on the river and had strong walls, he actually went down two miles in a level plain and threw up earth entrenchments. This he did because he said he feared to excite the suspicion of the Sepoys and thus incite them to revolt. The result was disastrous, for the earth walls that he raised furnished poor protection and the place was raked by the native artillery and small arms from every point of the compass. A worse place to defend could not have been chosen, but the twenty officers and two hundred men held it against a horde of mutinous natives for twenty days of blazing heat. The only water for the little garrison was obtained under severe fire of the enemy from a well sixty feet deep.

Finally, when the supply of provisions was nearly exhausted, General Wheeler agreed to surrender to the Nana Sahib, provided the men were allowed to carry arms and ammunition and boats were furnished for safe conduct down the river. Of course, the Nana accepted these terms, but it seems incredible that a veteran army officer should have trusted the lives of women and children to Sepoys who were as cruel as our own Apaches. The little garrison, with the wounded, the women and the children, was escorted down to the river and placed on barges. But when the order was given to push off, the treacherous Sepoys grounded the boats in the mud and the gunners of Nana Sahib opened fire on the barges. The grape shot set fire to the matting of the barges and many of the wounded were smothered. One boat escaped down the river, but the survivors were captured after several days of hardship, the men murdered and the women and children brought back to Cawnpore. The men in the other boats who survived were shot, but one hundred and twenty-five women and children were returned to Cawnpore as prisoners. They spent seven anxious days and then when Nana Sahib saw he could not hold Cawnpore any longer he ordered the Sepoys to shoot the English women and children. To the credit of these mutineers they refused to obey orders and fired into the ceiling of the wretched rooms where the prisoners were lodged. Then Nana Sahib sent for five butchers and these men, with their long knives, murdered the helpless victims of this monster of cruelty. On the following morning the bodies of dead and dying were cast into the well at Cawnpore. On the site of this well has been raised a costly memorial surmounted by a marble angel of the resurrection. The design is not impressive, but no one can see it without pity for the unfortunates who were delivered into the hands of the most atrocious character of modern times. The Memorial Church at Cawnpore, which cost one hundred thousand dollars, contains a series of tablets to those who fell in the mutiny.

THE TAJ MAHAL, THE WORLD'S LOVELIEST BUILDING

Agra is chiefly noteworthy for the Taj Mahal, which is acknowledged to be the most beautiful building in the world; though the city would be worthy of a visit because of the many splendid mosques and palaces built by the great Mogul emperors and others. In fact, Agra was the capital of the Mohammedan empire in north India until Aurungzeb moved it permanently to Delhi; hence the city is rich in specimens of the best Moslem work in forts, palaces, mosques and tombs.

Agra has about two hundred thousand population. It is on the Jumna river and is almost equally distant from Calcutta and Bombay, eight hundred and forty-two miles from the former and eight hundred and forty-nine miles from the latter. It will impress any traveler by its cleanliness when compared with Calcutta, Benares or Lucknow. The land seems to be more fertile than that around any of these three cities and the standard of living higher. The shops are clean and bright and a specialty is made of gold and silver embroidery and imitation of the old Mohammedan inlay work in marble. Most of the fine Moslem architecture is found inside the ancient fort, which, with its massive wall, is in a good state of preservation.

The Taj Mahal may be seen many times without losing any of its charm. It is reached by a short drive from the city and its beautiful dome and minarets may be seen from many parts of Agra and its suburbs. This tomb, built of white marble, was erected by Shah Jehan, the chief builder among the Mogul Emperors of India, in memory of his favorite wife, Arjmand Banu. She married Shah Jehan in 1615 and died fourteen years after, as she was giving birth to her eighth child. Shah Jehan, who had already built many fine palaces and mosques, determined to perpetuate her memory for all time by erecting the finest tomb in the world. So he planned the Taj, which required twenty-two years and twenty million dollars to build; but so well was the work done that nearly three hundred years have left little trace on its walls or its splendid decorations.

This Mogul despot, who knew many women, spent an imperial fortune in fashioning this noblest memorial to love ever built by the hand of man. Incidentally he probably sacrificed twenty thousand coolies, for he built the Taj by forced labor, the same kind that reared the pyramids and carved the sphinx. All the material was brought from great distances. The white marble came from Jeypore and was hauled in bullock carts or carried by elephants; the jasper came from the Punjab, the jade from China and the precious stones from many parts of Central Asia, from Thibet to Arabia.

The Emperor summoned the best architects and workers in precious stones of his time and asked them for designs. It is evident that many hands united in the plans of the building, but history gives the credit for the main design to a Persian. An Italian architect lent aid in the ornamentation and three inlaid flowers are shown to-day as specimens of his work. The building itself is only a shadow of its former magnificence--for the many alien conquerors of India have despoiled in it in succession, taking away the solid silver gates, the diamonds, rubies, sapphires and other precious stones from the flower decorations, and even the gold and silver from the mosaic work. All the precious stones looted by vandal hands have been restored by imitations, which closely resemble the priceless originals. Restorations have also been made where the marble has been defaced or broken.

The Taj stands in the midst of a great garden, laid out with so much skill that from any part of its many beautiful walks fine views may be had of the dome and the minarets. This garden is planted to many tropical trees and flowering shrubs whose foliage brings out in high relief the beauty of the flawless marble tomb. The main gateway of the garden, built of red sandstone, would be regarded as a splendid work of art were it not for the superior beauty of the tomb itself. The gate is inlaid in white marble with inscriptions from the Koran, and it is surmounted by twenty little marble cupolas.

Once inside the gate the beauty and the majesty of the Taj strike one like a physical blow. Simple as is the design, so perfectly has it been wrought out that the building gives the impression of the last word in delicate and unique ornamentation. The white marble base on which the building rests is three hundred and thirteen feet square and rises eighteen feet from the ground. The tomb itself is one hundred and eighty-six feet square, with a dome that rises two hundred and twenty feet above the base. At each corner of the base is a graceful minaret of white marble one hundred and thirty-seven feet high. Although no color is used on the exterior, the decoration is so rich as to prevent all monotony.

Front View of the Taj
Mahal, Agra. This
Unusual View
Was Taken by Mr.
Isaac O. Upham From
the Level of the Main
Approach. It Throws
Into Strong Relief
the Two Lines of
Cypresses and Gives
a Perfect Reproduction
of the Taj in the
Winter]