t of the temple. They
did not stand there, as do the ushers in the West, in order to keep the
riff-raff, those humble, poverty-stricken children of God, from
occupying the plush-covered seats in His House; but knowing the
intimate connection between religion and the senses, and the limited
space of the court of sacrifice and the temple itself, they stood there
in order to keep a finger upon the pulse of that mass of humanity's
passions.

The full moon flung her silver on to the stained worn flags of the
roofless court; hundreds, thousands even of tiny wicks in tiny
earthenware saucers flickered in the niches and on the outer edge of
the walls; hundreds of torches flung a smoky veil around the restless
figures passing in and out of the narrow entrance, and over dark heaps
which lay at the foot of the walls and in the corners.

Black heaps which, lay upon dark carpets, heaps big and small which
seemed to move, around which hung an overpowering, sickening stench of
blood.

Heaps revealed when touched by the fluttering drapery of some
worshipper to be the decapitated bodies of goats and bullocks lying in
their blood, and from which would rise the millions of ever-moving
flies which had given them a semblance of life in the torch-light.

Millions of flies, bloated offences, which settle for a second heavily
on your face or arm and fly slowly back to their feasting.

It had been a day of stupendous sacrifice, and the place ran blood.

From the inner temple came the sweet never-stopping clang of a silver
bell, as in one continuous stream the worshippers climbed slowly up the
flight of steps, passed in, struck one note by swinging the tongue of
the bell to announce their arrival to their goddess, and passed out;
while babies of both sexes, naked save for a silver bead upon their
rotund little bellies in the male, or a profusion of tiny bracelets and
a nose-ring in the female, heaped the flower offerings in masses at
Kali's feet.

Kali! Ah! formidable, terrible image graven in stone!

Pictures, highly coloured and blatant reproductions which will shock
your artistic sense, can be bought for a few annas at the native shops
which swarm outside the temple walls; but it is probable, nay, it is
certain that not a single one of the Europeans who may read this book
will ever see the original goddess in all her terror, and all that
inexplicable power with which she holds the Hindu multitudes in the
palms of her black hands.