In both it is believed that the soul after death goes into another body,
and is born over and over again into this world.
Is it not mournful to think that more than half the people in the world
have no bright hope to cheer a dying bed? One poor Hindoo was heard to
exclaim as he was dying, "Where shall I go _last_ of all?" He asked a
wise question. He wanted to know where, after having been born ever so
many times, he should be put for _ever_ and _ever_. That is the great
point we all want to know. But the Hindoo and the Chinaman cannot know
this: they have never heard of _everlasting_ happiness.
CIRCASSIA.
This is not a vast country like China, or Hindostan. It may be called a
nook, it is so small compared with some great kingdoms: but it is famous
on account of the beauty of the people. They are fair, like Europeans,
with handsome features, and fine figures. But their beauty has done them
harm, and not good; for the cruel Turks purchase many of the Circassian
women, because they are beautiful, and shut them up in their houses.
Perhaps you will be surprised to hear that the young Circassians think it
a fine thing to go to Turkey--to live in fine palaces and gardens,
instead of remaining in their own simple cottages. But I think that when
they find themselves confined between high walls, they must sigh to think
of their flocks and their farms at home, and more than all, of the dear
relations they have left behind.
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