A JEWELLER OF BENARES.
Frank had heard of the fine shawls, jewellery, and beautiful brasswork of Benares, and, with the last letter of Mary and Miss Effie in his mind, he was impatient to visit the bazaars where those things were sold. But there arose a difficulty in inducing the guide to show them the shops devoted to brasswork; the hotel had a salesroom for the same material, and the proprietor naturally regarded his patrons as his particular prey, especially as his prices were much higher than those of the city merchants. The guide finally said he was not allowed to conduct strangers to any shop other than that of the hotel, and accordingly his services were dispensed with, and the Doctor undertook the office of guide with very fair success.
A PIOUS PILGRIM.
There is no part of the world where one finds a more perfect system of making money out of the patron of a hotel than in India. Only those peddlers who pay a commission to the proprietor or manager are allowed to enter it, even to deliver goods that have been bought outside; and sometimes the manager requires all payments for purchases to pass through his hands, so that he may know the proper amount of his "squeeze," and secure it on the spot. The writer constantly came in contact with this custom during his travels in India, and on several occasions it was managed so openly that a blind man could hardly fail to see it. At the hotel in Delhi the manager stood by to witness transactions between peddlers and strangers, and when he was called away for a brief period he coolly asked if anything had been bought in his absence, and how much was paid. On one occasion the commission was handed over without the least attempt at concealment, and on another the payment was made behind a screen, and so near that the chink of the coin was plainly heard. Some of the hotels farm out the privilege of selling goods under their roofs for a fixed annual sum, and allow no peddlers other than the contracting ones to enter, while others give entrance to everybody, and require a commission on the sales. The same custom prevails in other parts of the East, and it is safe to assume that all goods bought in a hotel will be from twenty to fifty per cent. dearer than if purchased in the bazaars or public shops.
Benares brass-ware is in great variety, and our young friends were so delighted with it that they bought liberally. It consists of trays, plates, cups, goblets, vases, and kindred things that are chased with various designs of scroll-work, flowers, animals, deities, and other describable and indescribable things. The trays and plates are sold usually for about three rupees a seer—two pounds avoirdupois—and the goblets, mugs, and vases have a price by the piece or pair for which no exact figure can be laid down. The cheapest mugs cost a rupee each, and the goblets five rupees a pair. Then there are many varieties of idols in brass and bronze, and the visitor to Benares is pretty likely to secure a few of them to show his friends at home what the Hindoo idol is like.
The shops for shawls and cloths embroidered with gold and silver had a good many tempting things displayed to the best advantage; Frank bought a couple of the smallest of the shawls, and reserved himself and his money for further efforts in that line at Delhi. The Doctor told him the shawls were not made in Benares, but came from other cities, many of them from Delhi, whither they were going. He further explained that the manufactures of Benares were not at all numerous, and the city derived its principal income from the hosts of pilgrims who come every year to worship at its shrines.
The boys discovered that the holy pilgrims were not only in constant fear lest they should be contaminated by the touch of a European, but they would not even allow his shadow to fall on them or on the food they were cooking; the Doctor said that if such an accident should happen to a Hindoo's dinner it would be thrown away, and the pot in which it was being prepared would need a vigorous scouring to fit it for further use. But while they had such a dread of a white man's shadow they had no fear of his money, and would handle all he gave them without the least hesitation. They constantly saw the pilgrims begging in the streets, and were importuned by them; Frank thought some of the beggars made themselves comfortable, as they were seated in couples on a frame like a small bedstead in little nooks and corners where it was impossible to pass without going near them. Others stood against the walls under the shadow of the buildings, and others were seated at the roadside, and besought every passer-by to give them something. The boys tried them with small coins, and soon found that, while they feared pollution from everything else belonging to the European, they were not troubled about his cash.