thrust the
stems of a bouquet of jasmine, with long arms of jasmine hanging down on
either side. Now the water-pot is the shrine, the very home of Jarimari and
the thirty-eight cholera mothers. Behind the jasmine-wreathed stool Govind
places another stool bearing a tin tray full of uncooked rice, camphor, and
black and red scented powder; and close to it he piles the cocoanuts,
sugar, camphor, cakes, betel-nuts, and marigolds which the Bhandari
initiates have sent as an offering to Rama. He next produces a pile of
incense-sprinkled cinders, which he places in front of the goddess, and
several incense-cones which he lights, while Rama lays down a handful of
light canes for use at the forthcoming ceremony. And while the rich scented
smoke rises in clouds into the still night-air, shrouding the goddess's
face, Govind takes a little rice from the tray and a few flowers, and
places them on a Tulsi or sweet basil shrine which stands a little
northward of the hut.

* * * * *

All is now ready. Rama bids the boys sound the note of gathering, and at
once such a clashing and drumming arises as would frighten all the devils
of the palm-groves. The people come but slowly, for many of them work late
in the mills and have to go home and cook and eat their evening-meal before
they can take part in the rites of the Mother. But at last groups of women
appear out of the darkness, bareheaded save for flower-wreaths and a few
gold ornaments, their saris wound tightly round waist and shoulder. They
cluster silent and close-packed round the door of the hut; for they are the
women whom the thirty-eight Mothers love to possess and to lash into the
divine frenzy which only the human form can adequately portray. Govind
stirs the incense-heap; the dense smoke rolls forth again and shrouds all;
there is a feeling of witchery in the air and in the midst of the
smoke-pall one can just descry Rama bending low before the Mother. Now he
rises, draws the rattan-canes through his hands, and then leans against a
palm-tree with eyes tightly closed and hands quivering as if in pain. But
hark! there is something toward in the hut, and out of the darkness dash
two young women right in front of the goddess, leaping and tossing their
arms. They sway and twist their lithe forms in the smoke but utter no
word. Only one can see their breasts heaving beneath the sari and can
catch the sharp "Hoo, hoo" of their breathing, as their fr