"But they burn their dead yet, don't they?" was Faith's question, as she listened with sympathetic shivers.
"Yes. Some day, when I get time we will go to the Ganges and see some of their strange burial ceremonies—that is, if you can stand it, daughter."
"Oh yes, but I do think there are some dreadful things in this world, papa!"
"True, darling, and there would have been more dreadful, if the blessed Son of God had not come to teach us better ways. Man, left to himself, is always a savage. God and good women, both, have helped him to be better."
He spoke reverently, touching the visor of his cap involuntarily. When he thought of good women, memory always recalled the wife he had loved, and his soul blessed her memory.
They had now left the new town far behind them, and were slowly passing between expressionless house walls, with soiled awnings stretched above the lane-like street. The whole population seemed to live out of doors, and the cooking, hammering, tailoring, baby-tending, and lounging, was all done at so close range that the horses could scarcely keep from stepping on the merchants, and the carriage was in danger of making a wreck of his stock of goods. The houses, which seemed only to serve as backgrounds to all this teeming life, were of all colors—red, green, orange, and blue—and between the queer, many-shaped roof-tops waved the feathery crowns of date trees, the glossy foliage of the fig, and the stately fronds of the palm—but these were of scanter growth just here, though what there were, swarmed with kites, crows, parakeets, and even squirrels, while dogs "by the million," as Hope remarked, and cattle, and monkeys, and goats, were on every spot where babies and larger children had left an inch of room.
As they penetrated further into the native portion of the city, Captain Hosmer called the girls' attention to the many shrines, where some one was always standing with clasped hands and bent head, engaged in prayers to Parvati, perhaps, or Vishnu—for the image in the shrine differed—and to the peculiar reverence which every Hindu shows to the cow, a sacred animal to them. The gentle creature seems actually one of the family, possibly prized even more than the children, for it furnishes them with food, drink and fuel and receives in return the first notice and care.
"The orthodox Hindu will feed his cow before he does himself," said the captain. "And as he does so, he will repeat a little invocation, and when he meets one on the road he will touch her sleek side and then his own forehead, that so her blessings may be upon his head."
"And let his daughters be treated worse than dogs," breathed Hope in deep disgust.
"Father," said Faith with sudden fervor. "I am ashamed of myself that I ever begrudged the little bit of missionary money I used to give at Sunday-school. If I could have realized how much these people need to be taught better, I would have given four times as much, and weighted it with prayers. Why, I think it is awful!"