people; however, there are at the present time but a few more remaining.  One of the two whom I saw, held a heavy axe over his head, and had taken the bent attitude of a workman hewing wood.  I watched him for more than a quarter of an hour; he remained in the same position as firmly and quietly as if he had been turned to stone.  He had, perhaps, exercised this useless occupation for years.  The other held the point of his foot to his nose.

Another sect of the Fakirs condemn themselves to eat only a little food, and that of the most disgusting kind:  the flesh of oxen that have died, half-rotten vegetables, and refuse of every kind, even mud and earth; they say that it is quite immaterial what the stomach is filled with.

The Fakirs all go about almost naked, smear their bodies with cow-dung, not even excepting the face; and then strew ashes over themselves.  They paint their breasts and foreheads with the symbolical figures of Vishnu and Shiva, and dye their ragged hair dark reddish brown.  It is not easy to imagine anything more disgusting and repulsive than these priests.  They wander about all the streets, preaching and doing whatever they fancy; they are, however, far less respected than the martyrs.

One of the gentlemen whose acquaintance I made in Benares, was so obliging as to communicate to me some information as to the relation of the peasants to the government.  The peasant has no landed property.  All the land belongs either to the English government, the East India Company, or the native princes.  It is let out altogether; the principal tenants divide it into small lots, and sublet these to the peasants.  The fate of the latter depends entirely upon the disposition of the principal tenant.  He determines the amount of rent, and frequently demands the money at a time when the crops are not harvested, and the peasant cannot pay; the poor people are then obliged to sell the unripe crops for half their worth, and their landlord generally contrives to buy it himself in the name of another person.  The unfortunate peasant frequently has scarcely a sufficiency left to keep life in himself and his family.

Laws and judges there certainly are in the country, and, as everywhere else, the laws are good and the magistrates just; but it is another question whether the poor ever receive justice.  The districts are so extensive, that the peasant cannot undertake a journey of seventy or eighty miles; and even when he lives near, he cannot always reach the presence of the magistrate.  The business of the latter is so great, that he cannot himself attend to the details, and generally he is the only European in office, the remaining officials consisting of Hindoos and Mahomedans, whose character—­a lamentable fact—­is always worse the more they come in contact with Europeans.  If, therefore, the peasant comes to the court without bringing a present, he is generally turned away, his petition or complaint is not accepted or listened to; and how is he to bring a present after being deprived of everything by the landlord?  The peasant knows this, and therefore seldom makes a complaint.