ABSTRACT
I am now in the Holy City of Benares. I have rubbed my head all day and am no for’arder. I am beaten. I don’t know what to say, what to write. What is it all about, this worship of lthy cows, this sprinkling of lotus and marigold upon doubly unclean oors, this mixture of religion and commerce, this mingling of apparent godliness and immorality? I feel like a second Lord Rossmore: there is so much I may not tell. But following in his footsteps, I shall try to describe the “things I can tell.”
