tie with the goddess who at that time occu pied the place, he sat down and picked his teeth with a twig of tamarind. It grew and became a tree." Looking at the tree, the Englishman noticed a certain peculiarity about it. The trunk had divided at about three feet from the ground, and the two limbs had grown together again about four feet higher up, thus leaving an irregularly shaped opening. "The Pir Sahib planted it there in order that justice might not fail to remain near his tomb," said the old priest. "Justice," said the visitor, " how do you mean?" "The sahib must know that the Pir's spirit is in the tree. Anyone who is falsely ac cused may come here and pass through the opening, and by so doing his innocence is proved; but the Pir seizes the guilty by the loins and holds them there." A curious tradition, thought the English man, as he walked closer to the tree to ex amine it. "Possibly in the old days such a thing may have happened," he said to the priest, "but the tree has contracted considerably since then. No one could get through it now." "Pardon, sahib, one went through only three days ago." "What! Do people pass through that aperture now?" "When the Pir permits them, sahib." "You have seen them pass yourself? Chil dren of course?" "A full grown woman has passed, sahib. And men have stayed in the tree for three days." "And how did they manage to eat and drink?" "How should they eat and drink while the Pir held them by the loins?" "And how did they get through at last?" "They confessed and the Pir Sahib pitied them. One, a fat trader, was obstinate. I gave him all assistance, but he stayed." "How did you assist him, moolajee?"
"I beat him often and hard, sahib, but it was the third day before he confessed. Then the Pir opened his hand and he went." The tourist examined the hole more closely. It was a long opening, narrower at the mid dle than above or below. The upper part was the widest. He put in his head till brought up by his shoulders. He felt sure that it was impossible for a grown man to get his chest through such a narrow slit. "It is not to be done, moolajee! " he said. The old man smiled. "If the sahib will wait an hour, he will see with his own eyes." There was no saying fairer than that and so the tourist waited, determined to see the thing through. In a little while a number of persons were observed coming up the hill, and presently they arrived, three women and three men. While five of the party entered into conversation with the priest, the sixth stood aside, a fine young fellow of about twenty-five with a remarkably good pectoral development, a smooth face and curly hair. Evidently he was the principal actor in this affair. There was very little delay. In a minute or two the women seated themselves beside the tomb, while the man on trial stripped to his waist cloth. His male friends brought water and threw it over his head and shoul ders. He was then led up before the priest who was standing beside the tomb with a lighted lamp. Handing this lamp to the young man, the priest made him repeat word by word a form of denial of the offence with which he was charged. It seemed that a lady's character was at stake, and con sequently a gentleman's. But singularly enough it was not this young man's own moral conduct that was impugned, but his brother's. It was a case of purgation by proxy. The concluding words of the oath were : " If this be not so, then may the saint seize me by the loins." It should be explained that the tree stood some three feet from the wall, from which a
