“Stranger, you can only have a starving man’s welcome. I am fast going to a better or a worse destiny—a worse I am taught to believe, for death secures no favourable change to the contemned outcast. In yonder hut is my wife with three children dying. Would I could offer you a better asylum.”
“Perhaps my salvation may involve yours. I hope to bring you relief. My horse has reached the shore in safety, and it bears a supply of provisions. Come, let us to your home.”
The eyes of his preserver glistened, he touched the ground with his fingers, placed them against his emaciated forehead, and, murmuring a blessing upon the stranger, led the way to his miserable hovel.
Upon entering, the first thing that struck the stranger was the wife of his deliverer stretched upon the ground apparently in the agonies of death; by her side lay two children of the several ages of two and three years, and at her breast was a third attempting to draw that nutriment which the bosom no longer supplied. A tear started into the eye of the husband and father as he saw his guest’s cheek wet with the ready tribute of sympathy.
The horse having reached the bank, had with the common instinct of its nature gone to the Pariah’s hut, where it was standing when its master entered. Having taken off the pack, the provisions were produced, which consisted of cold meats, rice, and a few condiments, with some bottles of Persian wine. The rice was spread out in the sun and carefully dried; meanwhile a small quantity of wine was poured down the throats of the youthful mother and her children, after which they were sparingly fed by the anxious husband, who likewise assuaged the pangs of his own hunger. He and his family rapidly revived after this seasonable administration of relief.
Some hours after the stranger’s rescue from the river, several horsemen appeared on the other side; but seeing that the stream was not fordable and too wide to cross with safety they retired. That very night the Pariah’s guest complained of restlessness. His sleep was disturbed, his throat parched, his pulse unequal and his skin dry. He lay upon some withered grass in the corner of his preserver’s hovel, covered with a shawl which he usually wore round his waist. By the morning he was in a high fever; it augmented rapidly. For several days it increased until he was in a state of delirium; in proportion as he grew worse the starving family got better.
Among the things in the pack, belonging to the stranger, was a small bag containing six thousand rupees in gold. When the provisions were exhausted the Pariah took from this store what was necessary to obtain the requisite nourishment for his family and his guest; this he procured from the neighbouring town, but did not appropriate a rupee beyond what their domestic exigencies demanded. He attended his guest with a tenderness and attention inspired by his natural kindness of heart and the obligations which he felt under to him for the salvation of his family from starvation. His wife united her attention to his: they feared for their benefactor’s life. They watched by him night and day. His constitution at length overcame the fever, and he rapidly recovered. When his senses returned, he blessed his preservers for their attention. The Pariah placed his bag of money before him and accounted for every piece that had been bestowed. The invalid was several weeks under the humble roof of his preserver before he could proceed on his way.
During his recovery, he had a full opportunity of witnessing the character of his hosts. Both had recovered their natural health. The wife was a small delicate creature, gentle, pretty, with a light graceful figure, and an extremely placid countenance. The man was young and vigorous, short but well knit, and exhibiting a frame capable of great endurance. Their eldest child was a girl scarcely three years old, and beautiful as a cherub. Nothing could exceed the perfect symmetry of its little limbs, and both parents seemed to look with pride upon the budding beauty of their offspring.
“My worthy host,” said the stranger one day to the Pariah, who was seated beside him smoking a small portion of tobacco rolled up in a plantain leaf, “I must shortly leave you. This humble dwelling has been my security, as no one would think of seeking the fugitive in the hovel of a Pariah. You have ministered to me during sickness with a kindness which I never can either forget or repay.”
“Nay, our attentions have been more than repaid by preservation from a terrible death, and had not that been the case they would have been sufficiently requited in your high appreciation of them.”