“Then where did you find the historical picture you so graphically drew just now about the rajahship?”
“Where?” said the fellow, grinning and pointing to his forehead: “here, to be sure. Didn’t you see those Gentoos standing by and listening to every word I was saying? A pretty thing it would have been to see the pagans laughing and sneering at us Christians because the Founder of our Blessed Faith was the son of a Burhaee.”[44]
Such reasoning was conclusive.
If our memory serve us aright, there is a story somewhat like the preceding in the pages of the Abbé Dubois. Such things we presume must constantly be taking place in different parts of India. On one occasion we saw an unmistakable Lakhshmi[45] borne in procession amongst Christian images, and, if history be trusted, formerly it was common to carry as many Hindoo deities as European saints in the palanquins. On the other hand, many a Gentoo has worn a crucifix for years, with firm faith in the religious efficacy of the act, yet utterly ignorant of the nature of the symbol he was bearing, and we have ourselves written many and many a charm for ladies desirous of becoming prolific, or matrons fearful of the evil eye being cast upon their offspring.
On our return from old Goa to Panjim we visited an establishment, which may be considered rather a peculiar one. It is called the Caza de Misericordia, and contains some forty or fifty young ladies, for the most part orphans, of all colours, classes, and ages. They are educated by nuns, under the direction of a superior and a committee, and when grown up, remain in the house till they receive and accept suitable offers of marriage.
Hearing that it was not unusual to propose oneself as a suitor; with a view of inspecting the curiosities of the establishment, we repaired to the Caza, and were politely received by the old lady at the gate. After showing us over the chapel and other public portions of the edifice, she perceived that we had some other object, and presently discovered that we were desirous of playing the part of Cœlebs in search of a wife. Thereupon she referred us to another and more dignified relic of antiquity, who, after a long and narrow look at our outward man, proceeded to catechise us in the following manner.
“You say, señor, that you want a wife; what may be your name?”