A BEREAVED MOTHER. 
85 
bewailing the death of her babe in the most pa- 
thetic strains : I did not venture to interrupt her 
grief, but looked on in painful silence. She was 
evidently unconscious of my presence, her whole mind 
being absorbed by her sorrows. There were two or 
three women near her, who looked on with heartless 
indifference, chattering to each other, and occasion- 
ally addressing to the mourner a few words of cal- 
lous and repulsive consolation. Among the Hindoos 
in general, and especially among the women, it is 
surprising how little the sympathies are excited. Their 
affections are strong towards their own offspring, but 
seldom radiate beyond the domestic circle ; and thus 
we find this strange moral anomaly among them, that 
although they feel a domestic loss of the kind just re- 
lated with extreme intensity, they never appear to 
sympathise with those whom they may happen to see 
suffering under a similar bereavement. One of the 
women, on the present occasion, said to the miserable 
parent in a sharp tone of rebuke, f<r Why do you 
weep ? Have you nobody else to care for but the child 
who is gone away from you ? Is he worth lamenting 
when he has caused you so much sorrow ? Why did 
he go away, if he cared anything for his mother? 
Either he was not fit to be with you, or you were not 
fit to be with him, and therefore it was proper that 
he should go. This is your punishment, and you ought 
to bear it with patience. You must have done some- 
thing very wicked in a former birth, and this is the 
bitter fruit of your crime. Come, come, dry your 
tears, and be happy.” 
These words of coarse reproof fell upon the mourn- 
i 
