While in Benares I visited a temple dedicated to Shiva, in which were several enormous bulls, the animal sacred to this god. They were of a bluish grey in colour, and from long living in the temple had become as clever as the priests in looking for offerings from their worshippers. But while the priests looked for silver or gold, the bulls had an eagle eye with which to discern from afar the woman who carried a basket of grain. They stood at the back of the temple and eyed each worshipper as she entered. If the pious woman had only a brass water-pot in her hand they did not move; but if they saw a basket, they immediately started for her, and graciously allowed her to pour the grain into their open mouths, the woman taking care that she did not pollute the bulls by touching their lips with her hand. A wreath of marigolds was then thrown over the neck of the bull, the holy water was poured on his shoulders, and he returned to his place. I saw an old lady lovingly stroke the back of one of these pampered beasts, ending with the tail, the end of which she used to stroke her face, and afterwards lovingly kissed this appendage of her idol. The expression on her face was one of deepest reverence, and for her the great blue bull represented the god for whom her hungry soul was longing. The educated Hindu would say that she was struggling to find a god as are we all, but that she was still a child in matters spiritual and required a material representative of her ideal. They say that the real Hindu, the man who has studied the Vedas and understands the spirit of his religion, needs no images nor ritual. In his prayer he plainly shows that to him God is a spirit. He says— Oh, Lord, pardon my three sins. I have in contemplation clothed Thee in form, who art formless; I have in praise described Thee, who art ineffable; and in visiting shrines I have ignored Thy omnipresence. [Illustration: A HOLY MAN, BENARES. To face p. 96.]