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68 The party reached Benares at ten on the morning of Tuesday. November 14, landed at five in the evening, and 'drove four miles through immense crowds and much dust' to the ground where their camp was awaiting them. From that day began the splendour of a Governor-General's progress, drawn for us by Miss Eden's graphic pen; 'the journey that was picturesque in its motley processions, in its splendid crowds, and in its barbaric gold and pearl.' Public display, Miss Eden was to find, means often private discomfort: but she regretfully foresees the day, now dawned, when 'the Governor-General will dwindle down into a first class passenger with a handbag.' The long procession moves before us as in a mirror: from that first Tuesday evening when 'everybody kept saying, "What a magnificent camp," and I thought I had never seen such squalid, melancholy discomfort,' to the last evening of Saturday, March 31, when, at Pinjaur, at the foot of the Himálayas, 'we gave a farewell dinner.' We escort the Governor-General to his tent, 'which he cannot endure.' The bugle sounds at half-past five to wake us, and we are off at six, as the clock strikes. As we canter along in the mist, Giles, his lordship's valet, comes bounding by; 'in fact, run away with.' Rosina, Miss Eden's Muhammadan Ayah, du haut de son éléphant saláms to us. The poodle Chance's black nose peeps out from under the shawl of the liveried varlet who is carrying him. The big man as he alights cracks his little jokes; the aides de camp 'are in a roar of laughter