The sun. [volume] (Morris, Stevens County, Minn.) 1882-1895, 1886-04-15
A HOLY CITY.
Strange Sights on the Banks of the
Ganges at Benares.

Ganges at Benares.
The most remarkable part of the
spectacle presented by the river face Of
Benares is its population, resident and
immigrant. Throughout the length OF
this northern shore, where the flights
of steps and the slopes of the temples
come down TO the Ganges, is seen all
day long an immense crowd of devo-
tees, of all ages, ranks, and raiments,
and of both sexes, bathing in the sacred
river or praying by its edge, or wash
ing their robes of pilgrimage, or bring
ing their dead to be burned. Imagine
what an artistic effect results from such
fringe of life and of color between the
multi-colored background of the steps
and temples and the shining waters of
the stream. Throngs of brown-skin-
ned men and women, of boys and girls,
stand waist-deep along the bathing sta
tions. whispering their supplications
and pouring the holy liquid over neck
and breast and loosened black hair.
Groups of bright-clad women, led by
their Brahman gurus. come joyously
down the stairs from far-of towns and
jungles, to lay their scarlet, saffron
green, and rose-color saris aside with
the ghat-keepers, and wash their inno-
cent sins away in Gunga. Big umbrel-
las are everywhere erected in the sand
or mud, inscribed with Ram, RAM"
and under them, shaded from the suu,
family parties sit and chatter, or pray
in silent accord, arrived, after i'm
mense marches, to be laved in and
saved by Gunga. Sick people lie, visit
full and wan, on chr-poys, brought to
her beneficient side, that they may hear
the ripple of the ''Great Mother" and
feel the healing wind blow from her
waves; while, at the foot of the burn
ing Chats. where the people who sell
the ''death-wood'' are raking for white
bones in the heaps of hot ashes, and
pihng up fuel and cow-dung for their
next batch of funeral pyres, lie three
still figures covered with white and
red clothes, from which protrude only
the fixed, cold feet, washed by the outer
edge of the tide. These are the dead
of to-day. happy-thrice happy-to
have passed to the gate of Swarga, close
to Gunga's good waves. Their friends
sit near, we'll satisfied even amid their
natural regrets, and, very soon, three
blue curls of smoke waited among the
temple-roofs from three cracking fires
upon the platform of the Chat will tell
where those votaries have finished their
pilgrimage for once and all. Wonder
full is the fervor of belief among these
gentle, metaphysical Hindoo people.
An orthodox British churchwoman will
feel that she has done her duty if, when
she visits famous city, she goes twice
to its ancient cathedral on Sunday.
What would she think of these Indian
wives and mothers bathing with such
rejoicing confidence of salvation in q
crowd under the Dasaswamedha Chat?
Some of them are ''purdah women"
who would never lay aside their wells
and step outside the curtain except un-
der protection of the sacred simplicity
of pilgrimage. Some are old and feeble,
weary with the long journeys of life,
emaciated by maladies, saddened from
losses and trouble; and the morning air
| blows sharp, the river wave runs chilly.
Yet there they stand, breast-deep in the
cold river. with dripping cotton gar
ments clinging to their thin or aged
limbs, visibly shuddering under the
shock of the water, and their lips blue
and quivering, while they eagerly NUT
ter their invocations. None of them
hesitates; into Gunga they plunge on
arrival, i'll or well, robust or sickly, and
ladle the holy liquid up with small,
dark, trembling hands, repeating the
sacred names, and softly mentioning
the sins they would expiate and the be-
loved souls they plead for! l hope it is
perhaps true, as l watch these devout
and shivering women, that ''all the
prayers which are uttered come some
how to the ears of Keshar. &c. A.
Sala, in London Telegraph. :