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- CHAPTER V.
They Visit The Great Morai
As garrulous guide to the party, Braid-Beard soon brought us nigh the
great Morai of Maramma, the burial-place of the Pontiffs, and a rural
promenade, for certain idols there inhabiting.
Our way now led through the bed of a shallow water-course; Mohi
observing, as we went, that our feet were being washed at every step;
whereas, to tread the dusty earth would be to desecrate the holy Morai,
by transferring thereto, the base soil of less sacred ground.
Here and there, thatched arbors were thrown over the stream, for the
accommodation of devotees; who, in these consecrated waters, issuing
from a spring in the Morai, bathed their garments, that long life might
ensue. Yet, as Braid-Beard assured us, sometimes it happened, that
divers feeble old men zealously donning their raiment immediately after
immersion became afflicted with rheumatics; and instances were related
of their falling down dead, in this their pursuit of longevity.
Coming to the Morai, we found it inclosed by a wall; and while the rest
were surmounting it, Mohi was busily engaged in the apparently childish
occupation of collecting pebbles. Of these, however, to our no small
surprise, he presently made use, by irreverently throwing them at all
objects to which he was desirous of directing attention. In this
manner, was pointed out a black boar’s head, suspended from a bough.
Full twenty of these sentries were on post in the neighboring trees.
Proceeding, we came to a hillock of bone-dry sand, resting upon the
otherwise loamy soil. Possessing a secret, preservative virtue, this
sand had, ages ago, been brought from a distant land, to furnish a
sepulcher for the Pontiffs; who here, side by side, and sire by son,
slumbered all peacefully in the fellowship of the grave. Mohi declared,
that were the sepulcher to be opened, it would be the resurrection of
the whole line of High Priests. “But a resurrection of bones, after
all,” said Babbalanja, ever osseous in his allusions to the departed.
Passing on, we came to a number of Runic-looking stones, all over
hieroglyphical inscriptions, and placed round an elliptical aperture;
where welled up the sacred spring of the Morai, clear as crystal, and
showing through its waters, two tiers of sharp, tusk-like stones; the
mouth of Oro, so called; and it was held, that if any secular hand
should be immersed in the spring, straight upon it those stony jaws
would close.
We next came to a large image of a dark-hued stone, representing a
burly man, with an overgrown head, and abdomen hollowed out, and open
for inspection; therein, were relics of bones. Before this image we
paused. And whether or no it was Mohi’s purpose to make us tourists
quake with his recitals, his revelations were far from agreeable. At
certain seasons, human beings were offered to the idol, which being an
epicure in the matter of sacrifices, would accept of no ordinary fare.
To insure his digestion, all indirect routes to the interior were
avoided; the sacrifices being packed in the ventricle itself.
Near to this image of Doleema, so called, a solitary forest-tree was
pointed out; leafless and dead to the core. But from its boughs hang
numerous baskets, brimming over with melons, grapes, and guavas. And
daily these baskets were replenished.
As we here stood, there passed a hungry figure, in ragged raiment:
hollow cheeks, and hollow eyes. Wistfully he eyed the offerings; but
retreated; knowing it was sacrilege to touch them. There, they must
decay, in honor of the god Ananna; for so this dead tree was
denominated by Mohi.
Now, as we were thus strolling about the Morai, the old chronicler
elucidating its mysteries, we suddenly spied Pani and the pilgrims
approaching the image of Doleema; his child leading the guide.
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