the river to Bhagulpore, whence I was to proceed to
the Sikkim-Himalaya. The sketch at p. 80 will give
some idea of this vessel, which, though slow and very
shabby, had the advantage of being cooler and more
Commodious than the handsomer craft. Its appearance
was not unlike that of a floating haystack, or
thatched cottage : its length was 40 feet, and breadth
15, and it drew a foot and a half of water: the
deck, on which a kind of house, neatly framed of
matting, was erected, was but a little above the
water’s edge. My portion of this floating residence
was lined with a kind of reed-work formed of lone
culms of Sacchanm. The crew and captain consisted
of six naked Hindoos, one of whom steered by
the huge rudder, sitting on a bamboo-stage astern;
the others pulled four oars in the very bows opposite
my door, or tracked the boat along the river-
bank.
In my room (for cabin I cannot call it) stood my
palkee, fitted as a bed, with musquito curtains; a
chair and table. On one side were placed all my
papers and plants, under arrangement to go home; on
the other, my provisions, rice, sugar, curry-powder, a
preserved ham, and cheese, &c. Around hung telescope,
botanical box, dark lantern, barometer, and thermometer,
&c., &c. Our position was often ashore, and,
Hindoo-like, on the lee-shore, going bump, bump,
bump, so that I could scarcely write. I considered
myself fortunate in having to take this slow conveyance
down, it enabling me to write and arrange all
day long.
On the afternoon of the 15th of March I passed
Chunar* This is a tabular mass of sandstone, projecting
into the river, and forming the eastern termination
of the Kymore range. There is not a rock between this
and the Himalaya, and barely a stone all the way down
the Ganges, till the granite and gneiss rocks, of the
Behar range are again met with. The current of the
Ganges is here very strong, and its breadth much
lessened: the river runs between high banks of alluvium,
containing much kunker. At Benares it
expands into a broad stream, with a current which
during the rains is said to flow eight miles an hour,
when the waters rise 43 feet.
Benares is the Athens of India. The variety of
buildings along the bank is incredible. There are
temples of every shape, in all stages of completion and
dilapidation, and at all angles of inclination; for the
banks give way so much that many of these edifices are
fearfully out of the perpendicular.
The famed mosque, built by Aurungzebe on the site
of a Hindoo temple, is remarkable for its two octagonal
minarets, 232 feet above the Ganges. The building
itself is deficient in beauty or ornament, but the view
from it over the town, especially of the European Residents’
quarter, is fine; it commands the muddy river
with its thousands of boats, its waters peopled with
swimmers and bathers, who spring in from the many
temples, water-terraces, and ghats on the city side;
while opposite is a great sandy plain. The town below
appears a mass of poor, square, flat-roofed houses,
* The first station a t which Henry Martyn laboured in India.