"This is the Dasasvamedh Ghat," said Sir Modava, with a smile. "I thought you might wish to recall it after you get home to America. I think it is rather pleasant to know the names of places one has visited."
"We could not speak the word now without an hour's practice, and I am sure not one of us will know it when we get to the other side of the Atlantic," said Mrs. Belgrave.
"You can write it down in your diaries."
"We might as well attempt to copy the top of a tea-chest," added Louis.
The ladies were assisted on board of the steamer. The captain was a very gentlemanly Englishman; and he was all devotion to the wants of his passengers, who seated themselves on the promenade deck. The steamer belonged to the government; and she was fitted up in the most comfortable manner, though it was not so gaudy as the craft of a maharajah would have been. The ghat was at the western extremity of the crescent to which Sir Modava had alluded, and from this point the town looked like an amphitheatre.
The river is ordinarily about half a mile wide, but in the season of high water it is double that width. The captain called the attention of the party to the ghat as they receded from it, the broad flight of stairs being a rather wonderful sight to the strangers, though they had seen something of the kind before in Delhi and Cawnpore.
The steps are adorned with small temples with plenty of spires. Near the top of the flight was the Man Munder, the great observatory. Though the building is plain, as a whole, Captain Carlisle pointed out a highly ornamental window, with a profusion of handsome brackets. The stairs on the city side of the river were unlimited as far as the eye could see. Behind them was a forest of spires, domes, and cupolas.
"You ought to have left the ghat before sunrise," said the captain, who was walking up and down the deck, with an eye on the Hindu pilot. "Then you would have been in time to see the sight of the day, for the appearance of the sun is the holy moment for the natives to plunge into the holy river. For miles along the shore the ghats are thronged at the first appearance of the orb of day, and there is a continuous murmur of voices. No matter how cold the water is, they dive in and swim like fishes. You can see a thousand heads in the water along the shore at any moment. Then they support themselves on the surface, and gaze motionless at the sun as it mounts in the sky."
"Are you a sailor, Captain Carlisle?" asked Louis, who thought he was rather poetic for an uneducated man.
"Not as the commander of your ship would understand it, though I was in command of a Thames steamer, and fell into the same business when I came to India," replied the captain, laughing at the question. "My father was a good Baptist; he wanted to make a minister of me, and I was educated far enough to enter the university; but I concluded that I did not like the business, and took to steamboating."