said, "Why, this is Amritsar." "No," said I, "where is that Amritsar where God is worshipped with sacred chanting?" He replied, "The Gurudwara? Oh, that is quite near; go this way." Taking the road indicated, and going past the bazaar of red cloth shawls and scarves, I saw the golden spire of the temple shining in the morning sun. Keeping this in view, I arrived at the temple, and saw a big tank dug here by Guru Ramdas. He called it Amritsar. This was the lake, and was formerly called "Chak." Like an islet in the midst of the lake there is a white marble temple which I entered by passing over a bridge. In front there was a huge pile of books covered over with a parti-coloured silk cloth. One of the chief Sikhs of the temple was waving a plume over it. On one side singers were chanting from the sacred books. Punjabi men and women came and walked round the temple, and having made their salutations with offerings of shells and flowers, went away—some stayed and sang with devotion. Here all may come and go when they please—nobody asks them to come, nobody tells them not to. Christians and Mahomedans, all may come here, only according to the rules none may enter the bounds of the Gurudwara with shoes on.… I again went to the temple in the evening, and saw that the arati or vesper ceremony was being performed. A Sikh was standing in front of the Books, with a five-wick lamp in hand, performing the arati. All the other Sikhs stood with joined hands repeating with him in solemn tones:
The sun and moon shine as lamps,
The galaxy of stars twinkle like pearls,
The zephyr is incense, the winds are fanning,
