With many similar invocations, to which the images made not the slightest rejoinder.  Not discouraged, however, the attendants now separately proceeded to offer up petitions on behalf of various tribes, retaining them for that purpose.

One prayed for abundance of rain, that the yams of Valapee might not wilt in the ground; another for dry sunshine, as most favorable for the present state of the Bread-fruit crop in Mondoldo.

Hearing all this, Babbalanja thus spoke:—­“Doubtless, my lord Media, besides these petitions we hear, there are ten thousand contradictory prayers ascending to these idols.  But methinks the gods will not jar the eternal progression of things, by any hints from below; even were it possible to satisfy conflicting desires.”

Said Yoomy, “But I would pray, nevertheless, Babbalanja; for prayer draws us near to our own souls, and purifies our thoughts.  Nor will I grant that our supplications are altogether in vain.”

Still wandering among the images, Mohi had much to say, concerning their respective claims to the reverence of the devout.

For though, in one way or other, all Mardians bowed to the supremacy of Oro, they were not so unanimous concerning the inferior deities; those supposed to be intermediately concerned in sublunary things.  Some nations sacrificed to one god; some to another; each maintaining, that their own god was the most potential.

Observing that all the images were more or less defaced, Babbalanja sought the reason.

To which, Braid-Beard made answer, that they had been thus defaced by hostile devotees; who quarreling in the great gallery of the gods, and getting beside themselves with rage, often sought to pull down, and demolish each other’s favorite idols.

“But behold,” cried Babbalanja, “there seems not a single image unmutilated.  How is this, old man?”

“It is thus.  While one faction defaces the images of its adversaries, its own images are in like manner assailed; whence it comes that no idol escapes.”

“No more, no more, Braid-Beard,” said Media.  “Let us depart, and visit the islet, where the god of all these gods is enshrined.”

CHAPTER VIII They Meet The Pilgrims At The Temple Of Oro

Deep, deep, in deep groves, we found the great temple of Oro, Spreader-of-the-Sky, and deity supreme.

While here we silently stood eyeing this Mardi-renowned image, there entered the fane a great multitude of its attendants, holding pearl-shells on their heads, filled with a burning incense.  And ranging themselves in a crowd round Oro, they began a long-rolling chant, a sea of sounds; and the thick smoke of their incense went up to the roof.

And now approached Pani and the pilgrims; followed, at a distance, by the willful boy.

“Behold great Oro,” said the guide.

“We see naught but a cloud,” said the chief Divino.