were curiously carved and painted: cries, chafferings, bickerings,
Mussulman prayers, Arab oaths extending from "Praise God that you
exist" to "Praise God _although_ you exist;"--all these things
appealed to the confused senses.

The tall spire of a Hindu temple revealed itself.

[Illustration: HINDU TEMPLE IN THE BLACK TOWN, BOMBAY.]

"It seems to me," I said to Bhima Gandharva, "that your steeples--as
we would call them in Jonesville--represent, in a sort of way, your
cardinal doctrine: they seem to be composed of a multitude of little
steeples, all like the big one, just as you might figure your Supreme
Being in the act of absorbing a large number of the faithful who had
just arrived from the dismal existence below. And then, again, your
steeple looks as if it might be the central figure of your theistic
scheme, surrounded by the three hundred millions of your lesser
deities. How do you get on, Bhima Gandharva, with so many claims on
your worshiping faculties? I should think you would be well lost in
such a jungle of gods?"

"My friend," said Bhima Gandharva, "a short time ago a play was
performed in this city which purported to be a translation into the
Mahratta language of the _Romeo and Juliet_ which Shakespeare wrote.
It was indeed a very great departure from that miraculous work, which
I know well, but among its many deviations from the original was one
which for the mournful and yet humorous truth of it was really worthy
of the Master. Somehow, the translator had managed to get a modern
Englishman into the play, who, every time that one of my countrymen
happened to be found in leg-reach, would give him a lusty kick and cry