When we had arrived at the garden, the young prince seemed by his proud look to ask whether we were not charmed with its magnificence.  Our delight was unfortunately assumed, for the garden was far too plain to deserve much praise.  In the back-ground of the garden stands a somewhat ruinous royal summer palace.

As we were about leaving the garden, the gardener brought us some beautiful nosegays and delicious fruits—­a custom universal in India.

Outside the garden was a very large water-basin, covered with handsome blocks of stone; broad steps led up to the water, and at the corner stood beautiful kiosks, ornamented with tolerably well-executed reliefs.

The Rajah of Benares receives from the English government an annual pension of one lac, that is, 100,000 rupees (10,000 pounds).  He is said to receive as much more from his property, and nevertheless to be very much in debt.  The causes of this are his great extravagance in clothes and jewellery, his numerous wives, servants, horses, camels, and elephants, etc.  I was told that the prince has forty wives, about a thousand servants and soldiers, a hundred horses, fifty camels, and twenty elephants.

On the following morning the Rajah sent to inquire how the excursion had pleased us, and presented me with confectionery, sweetmeats, and the rarest fruits; among others, grapes and pomegranates, which at this time of the year are scarce.  They came from Cabul, which is about 700 miles distant from this place.

Finally, I must mention that for many years no one has died in the palace which the Rajah occupies.  The reason of this is said to be the following:—­“One of the rulers of this palace once asked a Brahmin what would become of the soul of any one who died in the palace.  The Brahmin answered that it would go to heaven.  The Rajah repeated the same question ninety-nine times, and always received the same answer.  But on asking the hundredth time, the Brahmin lost patience, and answered that it would go into a donkey.”  Since that time every one, from the prince to the meanest servant, leaves the palace as soon as they feel themselves unwell.  None of them are desirous of continuing after death the part which they have, perhaps, so frequently commenced in this life.

While in Benares I had two opportunities of seeing the so-called martyrs of the Fakirs (a priestly sect of the Hindoos).  These martyrs impose upon themselves the most various tortures:  for example, they stick an iron hook through their flesh, and have themselves drawn up to a height of twenty or five-and-twenty feet; or they stand several hours in the day upon one foot, and at the same time stretch their arms in the air, or hold heavy weights in various positions, turn round in a circle for hours together, tear the flesh off their bodies, etc.  They frequently torment themselves so much as to be in danger of their lives.  These martyrs are still tolerably venerated by the