opportunity of retaliating they killed pigs in the mosques. These pleasant little amenities would take place in the present day were it not for the strong arm of the English law.
The mulasthanum is a disappointing place when once its mysterious recesses have been penetrated. During my residence in India I had the opportunity of entering two. A cow had been slaughtered in each, and neither had been restored to virtue when I visited them. One was on the rock fortress at Dindigul. There were ruins of barracks, partly built of masonry and partly rock-hewn, which had once been occupied by British troops. A little higher up was a cool, clear pool which it was said had never been known to fail. At the extreme summit was the temple with its brown, wedge-shaped tower.
The view was beautiful. In the west the sun was sinking in a golden glory, turning the hills to a deep purple. Below lay the fertile land of the Madura district in a warm, transparent haze of heat. The great southern road that runs down the length of the Peninsula to Cape Comorin was easily distinguished by a line of avenue trees. The rock was deserted except for myself and my companion. She was sketching and I explored the temple, penetrating into the Hindu holy of holies. It was a small dark room, with a low ceiling of stone. The light entered by the doorway, the door being gone. A great part of the space was occupied by a raised platform of stone, on which was carved in outline the figure of a tortoise.
Upon this platform the idol formerly rested and then ceremonies were performed daily; the image was washed and anointed and decorated with flower-wreaths, while the devadasis (temple girls) danced and sang before it. Numbers of pilgrims came up the rock bearing their offerings and prostrating themselves outside the walls. Now it was deserted. Grass grew between the un-
