The record-union., 1893-01-06

was young Gulabi held her tongue on
that score. Only if folks pitied her for
crawling like a frog, she would smile,
saying some things We're worth more
than feet, and she expected her deserts
some day. Hal Hal a bold saying for
carnal sinners, but Holy Ganges will
choke the wickedness from her forever" J."
Then you viii take her-to-to Hard
war-and-leave her there" Smith-Jones
had difficulty with this euphemism for
the strange and barbarous custom he had
read about in books. He seemed to see
the old creature seated in her flat basket
IN the stream, a prey to exposure and
cold.
''It would scarcely be worth while her
coming back" suggested Dittu humbly.
My grannie (she is over there, Huzoor),"
noddtng his head toward the earthen pots,
was the last person who knew her ere
she ceased singing. Now she is gone,
wherefore should Gulabi wait longer
she has waited overlong as it is. To-
night, when the moon rises, we will travel
onwards to her rest. l must get back to
the village by harvest time"
Smlth-Jones gave Dittu the rupee. He
RODE into camp sedately; he wrote his
judgment Still more sedately; then he ate
his dinner and sat down sedately to read;
one book alter another-the ''Asiatic An
tlquary," a sermon by his father on the
relative guilt of the heathen, which in its
day had tiuttered the fold OF Middleton
on-the-F -Fens by its laxity; Herbert Spen-
GERS Sociology; finally, The Whole
DUTY OF Man." which had been presented
10 him by maiden aunt. And outside,
beyond the thin film of canvas separating
him from the calm Indian night, stretched
Hood of moOnshine; the tent-ropes gilt
terlng like silver cords against the dark
Leakage OF the banyan tree, the white
roads shining like a straight broad path
10 heaven-or elsewhere. Sitting beside
the reading-lamp he could see past the
furled chicks of the door, right away to
east and west; west to Rajputana and the
Pearl Palace; east to holy Ganges and the
golden gates of the great Rest-house.
Chlnk- -a-chink- -chink came the brass
llngles OF banghy, making Smith-Jones
lay down the 1.-The Whole Duty of Man"
restIessly and move toward the door.
Along that broad, white shining path
from west to east came a strange sight
an old mummy of a woman wrapped in a
shroud-like veil and balanced by the
ashes OF the village. Swaying, bobbing,
danclug mummy and ashes alike, as the
plant bamboo lever on Dittu's shoulder
made the iingles chink and the eyes on
the worn peacock's plume at either end
look as II they were alive. Shuttle,
shuttle, shuttle, bob, bob, bob, came
Dittu and his burden. Hurri Gunga
Hurri Gungai Hurri Gunga! just lit
tie gutteral grunting, like pigs, to keep
the shuttle and the bob together.
Smith-Jones stood staring into the
moonlight. the picture of irresolution
The shadow of the banyan tree lay right
across the road in a solid mass OF dark
ness, as if great gulf We're fixed be-
tween the light westward and the light
eastward. Here. in this No Mans Land
Gpt n ~,
lever into position with his packman's
stick, and made sideways for an inter-
Iude OF tobacco among the camp-folIow-
ers at the watch fires across the road.
Smith-Jones and the banghy were
alone. He could scarcely see it in the
darkness, though a wayward CLEAN of
moonlight glittered on the brass jingles
and lit up the peacock's eyes. For all
that, he saw it clearly in his mind. He
saw the net of earthen pots, the figure in
the shroud-nay, he saw more! He saw
through the grave clothes to the faded
tinery within, and through that again to
something which had not faded despite
the long, long years.
And then strange thing happened.
Smith-Jones forgot everything he had
been taught. He forgot his fathers SER
mon, he forgot sociology, folk lore, and
the whole duty of man. He forgot the
sun-myth and the great flight between
darkness and dawn which never ceases.
He even forgot himself as he stepped into
the shadowy gulf, stopped, and kissed that
old withered face.
He told me the tale years after, when
we were sitting over our toddy round a
camp fire. it was moonlight night, and
the shadow of a great banyan tree lay
like gulf across white road; perhaps
that awoke the memory. He was then Il
married man, with a charming wife and
a growing family; but never, he assured
me, had he forgotten, nor could he ever
forget, that kiss. He declared that for one
short second the whole world was at his
feet, the wilderness a blossOming rose,
the perfumes of which fingered. Here
he took off his spectacles, for though he
had given up wearing blue ones years
before, his kind eyes had become little
dim, perhaps with the sympathy they be-
slowed on all sorts and conditions of men;
he took off his spectacles, l say, and
wiped them furtively. - Macmillan's
Magazine.