“You know not a woman’s resolution,” replied the young widow firmly; “I will never consent to the degradation you propose. Do your worst.” “Be it so, then,” cried the Brahmin, and seizing a staff, he was about to strike a gong that hung from an iron bar which crossed the chamber about six feet from the floor, when a strange noise was heard without, and the image vibrated to its very foundation. The Brahmin trembled, and sank upon his knees. The beautiful Hindoo gazed on him in silence and without emotion. The noise increased, the walls of the chamber oscillated. With the calm confidence of speedy deliverance she looked forward to the result. Her companion was still upon his knees overcome by the stupefaction of terror. Voices were now distinctly heard, and one smote on the widow’s ear like familiar music. It was Mahmood’s. He had entered the temple of Somnat just as the lovely widow had ascended into the hollow bosom of the image. Having seen his orders executed upon the colossal frame, a crowd of Brahmins, perceiving their god in jeopardy, rushed forward and besought the king’s attendants to intercede with their sovereign to spare it, offering Mahmood a large sum of money, to be instantly paid down, if he would desist from further mutilation. His officers endeavoured to persuade the king to accept the money, urging that as the destruction of one idol would not put an end to idolatry, it could not serve the cause of true religion entirely to destroy the image; but that the sum offered might be distributed among the faithful, which would be a meritorious act. The monarch acknowledged there might be much truth in what they said, but, nevertheless, declared that he would not consent to a measure which would place him before posterity as Mahmood the “Idol-seller;” whereas it was the height of his ambition to be known as Mahmood “The Destroyer of Idols.” Having finally delivered his determination, he ordered his troops to proceed with the work of destruction. The gigantic image tottered beneath their strokes. It was at length split; the next blow laid open its hollow body, and to the surprise of the king and his officers its immense wealth was exposed to view; but their astonishment was infinitely increased when upon enlarging the opening, the Hindoo widow appeared standing in the centre of the cavity with the aged Brahmin kneeling beside her. The king instantly recognized her. She rushed towards him and exclaiming, “My deliverer!” fell into his arms. “You have saved me,” she cried hysterically, “from pollution and from death. Yonder is my persecutor. In another hour I should have been what I shudder to contemplate.”