water; and recommended, with a hypocritical anxiety for our welfare, that we should go to the next town, where, they told us, “the water was celestial”—a drink fit for gods. The oppresssed and simple people, as far as they dared, offered to bring us milk and all that their poor town would afford, and seemed quite delighted with the prospect of a good look at two white men with palankeens, table, chairs, and other wonderful things. Though the place presented few attractions, we decided not to give way to the insolence of the Brahmins, but to stay, that these poor might have preached unto them the gospel's joyful sound.
Our bandy, which had lost its way, now arrived, and we pitched our tent. This, with its tall central pole, its canvas roof, its cords and stakes, was a new source of wonder. Darkness had set in, and our lamp was lit; but still the lookers-on continued standing or sitting around, in the most favourable positions for seeing every thing. They were apparently fearful lest they should miss seeing something of note, should they quit their posts for a moment.
But at last even the most persevering gazer wearied, and left us to ask the blessing of God
