mortared stones outside, and the dust of ages clung about the simple moulding of the interior. No wild-eyed fanatic barred my entrance, and I could wander where I chose. The place was abandoned to the bats, and from their unsavoury presence I quickly beat a retreat. The Indian bat has an appalling smell as well as a villainous appearance. It may be a timid creature, but its looks belie it, for it is nothing short of impish. A sailor in Captain Cook's service encountered one when he was taking a walk on shore at some tropical port. He swore that he had seen the devil. 'He was as large as a one-gallon keg and very like it; he had horns and wings, yet he crept so slowly through the grass that if I had not been afeared I might have touched him.'
The idol that rests on the dais in the mulasthanum is made of five metals—gold, silver, brass, copper, and lead. At the temple of Srirungam, near Trichinopoly, the image is said to be of stone and always sleeping. Pujah is performed every day, and the water used in the diurnal ablutions runs off into a tank, where it is reserved for the pilgrims. They receive the precious liquid as a sacred gift that is full of virtue and drink it.
When Clive took possession of the temple of Srirungam two thousand fierce Mahrattas stood before the door of the mulasthanum, declaring that the Europeans should only pass in over their dead bodies. Their superstition was respected, and Clive left them in undisturbed possession of the inner hall.
An image is brought out once a year at Srirungam and borne in procession through the streets. It is cased in gold and rests upon a silver car. In showing the vehicle the guide—a temple attendant— explained that it was the swami's dogcart.
There are no blood sacrifices at Srirungam. 'By sacrifices are the gods nourished,' says one of the Puranas.
