Finding myself, for the second time, in these romantic regions, I
resolved not to leave Kattiawar, without looking once more on the
magnificent desolation of Somnauth. At the place where I planned to do
this, I was (as nearly as I could calculate it) some three days distant,
journeying on foot, from the sacred city.
I had not been long on the road, before I noticed that other people--by
twos and threes--appeared to be travelling in the same direction as
myself.
To such of these as spoke to me, I gave myself out as a Hindoo-Boodhist,
from a distant province, bound on a pilgrimage. It is needless to say
that my dress was of the sort to carry out this description. Add, that
I know the language as well as I know my own, and that I am lean
enough and brown enough to make it no easy matter to detect my European
origin--and you will understand that I passed muster with the people
readily: not as one of themselves, but as a stranger from a distant part
of their own country.
On the second day, the number of Hindoos travelling in my direction
had increased to fifties and hundreds. On the third day, the throng had
swollen to thousands; all slowly converging to one point--the city of
Somnauth.
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