rock
and spray, and for a halo rainbow. To one who looked with sympathy the
picture was a parable. You could not but see visions: you could not but
dream dreams.

Then from the quiet heights crept a colony of monkeys, their chatter
drowned in the roar of the Falls. On they came, wise and quaint, like
the half-heard whispers of old-time jokes. And they bathed in the mimic
pools above, as it seemed in imitation of the pilgrims, holding comical
little heads under the light trickles.

And below the scene changed as a company of widows came and entered the
Falls. They were all Brahmans and all old, and they shivered in their
poor scanty garments of coarse white. Most of them were frail with long
fasting and penance, and they prayed as they stood in the water or
crouched under its weight. Such a one had sat on the stone under the
special fall which, as the friend who had taken me observed with more
forcefulness than sentiment, "comes down like a sack of potatoes." I had
tried to stand it for a minute, but it pelted and pounded me so that
less than a minute was enough, and I moved to make room for a Brahman
widow who was bathing with me. And then she sat down on the stone, and
the waters beat very heavily on the old grey head; but she sat on in her
patience, her hands covering her face, and she prayed without one
moment's intermission. How little she knew of the other prayer that rose
beside hers through the rushing water--it was the first time I at least
had ever prayed in a waterfall--"Oh, send forth Thy light and Thy truth;
let them lead her!" She struggled up at last and caught my hand; then,
steadying herself with an effort, she felt for the iron rod that
protects the ledge, and blinded by the driving spray and benumbed by the
beat of the water, she stumbled slowly out. But the wistful face had a
look of content upon it, and her only concern was to finish the
ceremonial out in the sunshine--she had brought her little offerings of
a few flowers with her--and so, much as I longed to follow her and tell
her of the cleansing of which this was only a type, it could not have
been then. Oh, the rest it is at such a time to remember that the Lord
is good to all, and His tender mercies are over all His works.

Below the pool, in the broad bed of the stream and on its banks, all was
animation and happy simple life. Here the women were drying their
garments, without taking them off, in a clever fashion of their own.
There some w