“O Harold, you are jesting,” exclaimed Alicia.
“You have little idea, my daughter, of the length to which superstition can go,” observed Mr. Hartley.
“The dirty jogi would have thought himself defiled by taking food from your clean white fingers!” cried Robin. “You thought him a scarecrow; he sets up for a saint.”
“I could tell you an extraordinary story,” said Mr. Hartley, “and a true one, which I had from my good friend Andrew Gordon of the American Mission. It will show you in a striking manner how pretenders to sanctity impose on the ignorant natives of India.[[3]]
“In a large village called Jandran, not long ago, lived twenty-five families of Megs, a caste of weavers. These poor people had begun to feel dissatisfied with their old religion, and to desire clearer light. Whilst in this inquiring state they were visited by a fagir [religious beggar], who resolved to offer himself to them as a guru, or religious teacher.
“‘Have you people ever found God?’ inquired Maston Singh (such was the fagir’s name).
[3]. For this story at fuller length, and many other curious anecdotes, see the late Rev. A. Gordon’s interesting work, “Our Indian Mission.”
“‘No, we have not found God,’ was the honest reply of the simple weavers.
““I am quite sure that you have not,’ said Maston Singh; ‘for God is not to be found in the religion of either Hindus or Mohammedans. But I can reveal him to you; and if I can bring him near to you, even causing your eyes to see him, will you receive and follow me as your guru?’
“‘Most certainly,’ replied Rama, a leader amongst the Megs. ‘It is this very thing that we are all earnestly seeking; this is the great desire of our hearts.’”