The small-pox had been raging in the town of Jubbulpore for some time during one hot season that I was there, and a great many children had died from it.  The severity of the disease was considered to have been a good deal augmented by a very untoward circumstance that had taken place in the family of the principal banker of the town, Khushhal Chand.  Sewa Ram Seth, the old man, had lately died, leaving two sons.  Ram Kishan, the eldest, and Khushhal Chand, the second.  The eldest gave up all the management of the sublunary concerns of the family, and devoted his mind entirely to religious duties.  They had a very fine family temple of their own, in which they placed an image of their god Vishnu, cut out of the choicest stone of the Nerbudda, and consecrated after the most approved form, and with very expensive ceremonies.  This idol Ram Kishan used every day to wash with his own hands with rosewater, and anoint with precious ointments.  One day, while he had the image in his arms, and was busily employed in anointing it, it fell to the ground upon the stone pavement, and one of the arms was broken.  To live after such an untoward accident was quite out of the question, and poor Ram Kishan proceeded at once quietly to hang himself.  He got a rope from the stable, and having tied it over the beam in the room where he had let the god fall upon the stone pavement, he was putting his head calmly into the noose, when his brother came in, laid hold of him, called for assistance, and put him under restraint.  A conclave of the priests of that sect was immediately held in the town, and Ram Kishan was told that hanging himself was not absolutely necessary; that it might do if he would take the stone image, broken arm and all, upon his own back, and carry it two hundred and sixty miles to Benares, where resided the high priest of the sect, who would, no doubt, be able to suggest the proper measures for pacifying the god.

At this time, the only son of his brother, Khushhal Chand, an interesting little boy of about four years of age, was extremely ill of the small-pox; and it is a rule with Hindoos never to undertake any journey, even one of pilgrimage to a holy shrine, while any member of the family is afflicted with this disease; they must all sit at home clothed in sackcloth and ashes.  He was told that he had better defer his journey to Benares till the child should recover; but he could neither sleep nor eat, so great was his terror, lest some dreadful calamity should befall the whole family before he could expiate his crime, or take the advice of his high priest as to the best means of doing it:  and he resolved to leave the decision of the question to God Himself.  He took two pieces of paper, and having caused Benares to be written upon one, and Jubbulpore upon the other, he put them both into a brass vessel.  After shaking the vessel well, he drew forth that on which Benares had been written.  ’It is the will of God,’ said Ram Kishan.  All the family, who were interested