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Show My days in Autsahai had been interesting and profitable, and when th time finally arrived for our departure I was most reluctant to leave. Ou hosts suggested a different route for our retumn to the Ganges on our wa to Calcutta, a route by which we could avoid the long walk that we ha takenin coming to the village. The coolies had been ordered to appear for ou luggage, and at sunis we commenced our journey on oot 1o thevillage o n nuc rattan covering, awaited us. Our luggage, papermaking equipment, an bundles of paper, which had been carried from Autsahai on the coolies heads, was already in place in the craft, and the boatman, a half nake Hindu, stood with pole in hand ready to proceed. We were refreshed afte our early morning tramp, and the prospective journey of seve hours in the cramped little barque did ot appear as a hardship. Thc da was warm, and all along the narrow waterway the smells were offensive posite odor of damp clay, over-ripe fruit, offal, and human filth. W ited by village after village, all engaged in the making of burnt clay pot up primi huts clinging to the banks of th stream. On one side of the waterway live the Hindus, on the other the Mohammedans. People trudged along th anks of the stream and strange sights met my eyes-blind Indians, lepers women and children with bodies twisted in grotesque forms that woul have made the characterizations of the late Lon Chaney look commonce. There were demented women roped to their relatives, men wit palsv, and babies whose limbs were so emauzled that a finger ring coul Digital image © 2005 MarriottLibrary Universit of Utah, All rihts reserved |