Identifier: indikacountrypeo00hursuoft Title: Indika. The country and the people of India and Ceylon Year: 1891 (1890s) Authors: Hurst, J. F. (John Fletcher), 1834-1903 Subjects: Sri Lanka India Publisher: New York, Harper Contributing Library: Robarts - University of Toronto Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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Text Appearing Before Image: heir faces areseldom cheerful. They are pictures of filth and despair. Thewomen of the upper Hindu classes are not to be seen just now.They have all gone home. They left their houses early in themorning, say at four, were borne in palanquins to the bank,entered their richly ornamented boat, and were rowed out inthe middle of the stream. The boat, by a peculiar construction,has a lattice-work for the water to run through. The bottomis firm, and here they take their bath, unobserved by any eyes,and are speedily rowed back to their palanquins, and are bornehomeward by fleet-footed kulis. But not all the rich are thus early. Some have only just ar- HEXARE8 THE Ilui.Y CITY. 565 rived, and will soon be off again. Their journey has been longand painful. The rest of life, they know, is short. But it mustbe sweetened by a hath in the sacred river, and sacrifices ffloAvers in the temples of Benares. The joy which overspreadsmany a face, as the holy water laves it for the first time, can

Text Appearing After Image: f n ■,; 11 « tl i ELEVATION OP TEMPLE OF VISUWESHWAR AT BENARES. be seen in a moment. It is the fulfilment of the hopes of a life-time. Is the water cold? Yes. I could not endure the shockthree minutes, yet these people seem to be accustomed to it.However, there is many a trembling form. It is the religiousassociations which make all pain an ecstasy. 566 INDIRA. Infanticide. In former times the drowning of female children was a com-mon incident in this busy morning scene. The following pictureis true to history : t Zeida hath laid her basket down,Her offering to the sacred river;No tears even yet her eye doth own,But every feeble limb doth quiver; And sobs each like a dying gasp,Burst from that agonized breast,To which, with strong and straining clasp,The hapless babe is pressed. A smile across its features playsUnconsciously—and now another,Answering the miserable gazeOf that most wretched mother. A thrill of anguish shook her frame, Then a brief frenzy oer her came,The thin vei

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