The purified temple became spotless, cool and delicious, like His own mind laid bare to view. A hundred filled their pitchers at the tank, or, if crowded out, at the well. A hundred _bhaktas_ brought the filled pitchers in, while another hundred ran off with the empty ones. Only Nityánanda, Adwaita, Swarup, the Bhárati, and the Puri did not draw water. (In their hurry) many pitchers were knocked together and broken, but men brought hundreds of new pots to replace them. They shouted _Krishna! Krishna!_ as they filled their pots, or broke them, delivered the filled pitchers or begged for new ones. No other word was uttered there; Krishna's name became a mystic word to express all their different purposes. In ecstasy of devotion the Master chanted Krishna's name and did alone the work of a hundred men, as if He had put forth a hundred arms in washing and scrubbing. He also went up to each to instruct him, praising those whose tasks were well done and gravely chiding those who were slovenly. "You have done well, teach others to do the like,"--at these words of His they were put on the alert and did their work with all their heart. Then they washed the _Jagmohan_[1] the dining room, the dancing-hall, the court-yard, the kitchen, the environs of the temple, and all nooks and private places. Just then an honest simple Bengali emptied his pitcher at the Master's feet and drank the water. At this the Master turned angry and sorry. He inly felt pleased, but for the instruction of others outwardly professed anger, calling out to Swarup "Look at the conduct of your _Gauriyá_. He has washed my feet in God's temple and drunk the water. From this sin where can I hope for salvation? Your Bengal man has caused me this misery." Then Swarup took the man by the nape of his neck, shoved him out of the temple, and on his return entreated the Master to pardon the man. The Master was now satisfied. He seated all in two rows and sat in the middle, picking up straws and brambles with His own hands. "I shall see what a heap the gleaning of each can make. He whose collection is small must forfeit his cake and syrup to me!" Thus was the temple made clean, cool and pure, like His own mind. The water running down the drain looked like a new river flowing to the ocean. He then cleansed the Man-lion temple in and out, rested a little, and then set up dancing. And in the same manner He swept the roads in front of the temple. The _bhaktas_ danced around, while the Master danced in their midst like a raging lion, perspiring, trembling, turning pale, being thrilled, and roaring. After washing His body He marched in advance, showering down tears, while the _bhaktas_ washed themselves clean, like unto the deluge of rain from the clouds in the month of _Shrávan_. The loud _sankirtan_ filled the sky, the vigorous dance of the Master shook the earth. The resonant singing of Swarup pleased the Master, who danced wildly in delight. After dancing thus, He took rest at the proper time.