The wolf had nearly reached the thicket with its prey, and the wretched parent was about to yield herself up to the wild impulse of despair, when a horseman emerged from a path in the wood, and seeing the distress of a young and beautiful woman, the cause of which became instantly evident, he urged his steed forward, and reaching the wolf before it had time to enter the jungle, struck it on the back with his sword. The blow was given from so sinewy an arm as almost to sever the brute in twain. It immediately dropped its prey, writhed for a few moments, and died. The eager mother threw herself frantically on the body of her first-born, and began to bewail its untimely fate with piercing shrieks of loud and bitter agony. Supposing that it was dead, she clasped it to her bosom and called upon her idol to restore the joy of her life; but the stone divinity, dumb and insensible as the earth on which she had prostrated herself, heard not her lamentable cry. The huge image of Somnat, adored by millions of enthusiasts, and enriched by the perpetual offerings of wealthy devotees, standing within the walls of a gorgeous temple, which might have vied with the proudest palaces of Egypt’s kings in the brightest days of their renown, heard not the tender supplications of one of its devoted adorers, but stood in its grim majesty inaccessible to the appeal which might have melted any stone that had not been employed to fashion a divinity. The child, feeling the pantings of its mother’s bosom, uttered a cry that in a moment subdued the mental anguish of its parent. Her lamentations ceased--she gazed upon it--unfastened the cloth in which it had been tied--examined it with an expression of excited anxiety, and finding that it was uninjured, gave a scream of joy, and clasped it with fervency to her breast. The wolf had seized only the wrapper in which the infant had been secured, so that when released from the monster’s jaws, the babe was without a scratch. The youthful mother was wild with transport. She fixed her beaming eyes upon her preserver with a look between amazement and exultation, but without uttering a word. By this time the stranger, beneath whose sword the wolf had died, stood near, apparently enjoying the rapture of the young Hindoo. For a few moments, he left her to the feelings in which her ardent heart was evidently revelling, forbearing to interrupt an enjoyment second only to the fruition of paradise. He beheld her beauty with fervent admiration, a beauty seldom paralleled, and heightened by the tender excitement under which she was at that moment labouring. Having recovered from the shock of agony produced by the apprehension of her child’s peril, her thoughts were now sufficiently collected to acknowledge her obligations to its deliverer. She again turned upon him her large dark liquid eyes with an expression of melting gratitude which could not be mistaken.