tar over it. On the top of all he planted turfs of grass and jungle weeds. The night was almost spent, but he could not tear himself away from the spot. Now and again he placed his ear to the ground, and tried to listen. It seemed to him that from far far below—from the abysmal depth of the earth’s interior—came a wailing. It seemed to him that the night-sky was flooded with that one sound, that the sleeping humanity of all the world was awake, and was sitting on its beds, trying to listen.
The old man in his frenzy kept on heaping earth higher and higher. He wanted somehow to stifle that sound, but still he fancied he could hear "Father."
He struck the spot with all his might and said: "Be quiet—people might hear you." But still he imagined he heard "Father."
The sun lighted up the eastern horizon. Jaganath then left the temple, and came into the open fields.
There, too, somebody called out "Father." Startled at the sound, he turned back and saw his son at his heels.
"Father," said Brindaban, "I hear my boy is
