A _jumna-pār_ goat, so called because these goats are bred on the other side the Junma, is lying on the ground—they are of enormous size, with very broad, long, thin, and silky ears, as soft as velvet. These animals are better adapted for marching than the small Bengalī goat; but unless they can go into the _jangal_ and browse, they become thin and lose their milk. On the opposite side of the river is the Jellinghy flat and her steamer, returning from Allahabad to Calcutta. The steamer herself is not the vessel in which passengers live; but attached to, and towed by her, is a vessel as large as the steamer herself, called a flat, built expressly to convey passengers and government treasure. It is divided into cabins, with one large cabin in the centre, in which the passengers dine together. The deck is covered with an awning. The view on the left of the native vessel exemplifies the structure of the ghāts on the water’s edge. The continuity of the line of steps is interrupted by hundreds of stone piers of various forms, which may be classed under three distinct heads: some are merely intended to give solidity to the masonry; others are built for the accommodation of the _ghātiyās_ (ghāt attendants), and _gangā-putras_ (sons of the Ganges), who enjoy hereditary possession of most of the ground between high and low water mark, and whose ancestors have resided on the spot from time immemorial in hereditary attendance upon pilgrims; the third sort consists of _mut’hs_ or small temples, erected at the expense of pilgrims and others: they generally have a flat roof, which serves the _ghātiyā_ as a _chabūtāra_ or terrace to sit and converse upon. The large _chatrs_, or umbrellas, so numerous on the ghāts, are fixtures, to protect the people from the intense heat of the sun in India. On the river’s edge are seen one or two _murhīs_—chambers into which the sick are removed when at the point of death, that their sins, to the last moment of existence, may be washed away by the holy stream. In the midst of hundreds and hundreds of temples and ghāts, piled one above another on the high cliff, or rising out of the Ganges, the mind is perfectly bewildered: it turns from beauty to beauty, anxious to preserve the memory of each; and the sketcher throws down the pencil in despair. Each ghāt presents a study: the intricate architecture, the elaborate workmanship, the elegance and lightness of form, and the picturesque groups of natives that crowd to their devotions, form as fine a subject for a picture as an artist could select. How soon Benares, or rather the glory of Benares—its picturesque beauty—will be no more! Since the year 1836 many ghāts and temples have sunk, undermined by the rapid stream which now sets full upon the most beautiful cluster of the temples on its banks: some have been engulphed, some are falling; and ere long, if the Ganges encroach at an equal rate, but little will remain of the glory of the most holy of the Hindū cities.