CHAPTER L.
The man who is ostentatious of his modesty is twin to the statue that wears a fig-leaf.
-- Pudd'nhead Wilson's New Calendar.
The journey to Benares was all in daylight, and occupied but a few hours.
It was admirably dusty.

The dust settled upon you in a thick ashy layer and turned you into a fakeer, with nothing lacking to the role but the cow manure and the sense of holiness.

There was a change of cars about mid-afternoon at Moghul-serai--if that was the name--and a wait of two hours there for the Benares train.

We could have found a carriage and driven to the sacred city, but we should have lost the wait.

In other countries a long wait at a station is a dull thing and tedious, but one has no right to have that feeling in India.