When I have
satisfied my curiosity and withdrawn from the door-way, he comes out
himself and shuts the beautifully chased brazen door with quite an angry
slam. The day previous was the anniversary of Krishna's birth, and the
blood of sacrificial goats and bullocks is smeared profusely about the
altar. It is, probably, the enormity of an unhallowed unbeliever in one
god, thrusting his infidel head inside the temple at this unseemly hour
of the morning, while the blood of the mighty Krishna's sacrificial
victims is scarcely dry on the walls, that arouses the righteous wrath of
the old heathen priest--as well, indeed, it might.
Passing through a village abounding in toddy-palms, I avail myself of an
opportunity to investigate the merits of a beverage that I have been
somewhat curious about since reaching India, having heard it spoken of so
often. The famous "palm-wine" is merely the sap of the toddy-palm,
collected much as is the sap from the maple-sugar groves of America,
although the palm-juice is generally, if not always, obtained from the
upper part of the trunk. When fresh, its taste resembles sweetened water;
in a day or two fermentation sets in, and it changes to a beverage that,
except for slightly alcoholic properties, might readily be mistaken for
vinegar and water.
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