Hungry and sad, and bowed down by sorrow, poor Harmuzi, wrapped in her chaddar, sat at the corner of a street, with a brass vessel, called a bartan, beside her, and held out her thin hand for alms. She had sat there for hours, whilst many passed by her, but as yet she had received nothing from any one,—not so much as a word of pity. At last Harmuzi heard a slight sound, as if something were being poured into her bartan; and when she put forth her hand to feel, lo! the vessel was full of rice. Then some one gently took the blind woman by the hand, and raised her, and led her back towards the house of the undutiful son. Harmuzi blessed the kind stranger again and again, and asked Vishnu to load him with blessings. He who led her spake not a word in reply, but left her at the corner of a street that was nigh to the house of her undutiful son.