Something New
SOMETHING NEW by Pelham Grenville Wodehouse CHAPTER I The sunshine of a fair Spring morning fell graciously on London town. Out in Piccadilly its heartening warmth seemed to infuse into traffic and pedestrians alike a novel jauntiness, so that bus drivers jested and even the lips of chauffeurs uncurled into not unkindly smiles. Policemen whistled at their posts--clerks, on their way to work; beggars approached the task of trying to persuade perfect strangers to bear the burden of their maintenance with that optimistic vim which makes all the difference. It was one of those happy mornings. At nine o'clock precisely the door of Number Seven Arundell
gloved hands and implements resembling tongs, place the dry
skeleton in the central well. There the bones find their
last resting-place, and there the dust of whole generations
of Parsees commingling is left undisturbed for centuries.
The revolting sight of the gorged vultures made me turn my
back on the towers with ill-concealed abhorrence. I asked
the secretary how it was possible to become reconciled to
such usage. His reply was nearly in the following words:
"Our prophet Zoroaster, who lived 6,000 years ago, taught us
to regard the elements as symbols of the Deity. Earth, fire,
water, he said, ought never, under any circumstances, to be
defiled by contact with putrefying flesh. Naked, he said,
came we into the world and naked we ought to leave it. But
the decaying particles of our bodies should be dissipated as
rapidly as possible and in such a way that neither Mother
Earth nor the beings she supports should be contaminated in
the slightest degree. In fact, our prophet was the greatest
of health officers, and, following his sanitary laws, we
build our towers on the tops of the hills, above all human
habitations. We spare no expense in constructing them of the
hardest materials, and we expose our putrescent bodies in
open stone receptacles, resting on fourteen feet of solid
granite, not necessarily to be consumed by vultures, but to
be dissipated in the speediest possible manner and without
the possibility of polluting the earth or contaminating a
SOMETHING NEW by Pelham Grenville Wodehouse CHAPTER I The sunshine of a fair Spring morning fell graciously on London town. Out in Piccadilly its heartening warmth seemed to infuse into traffic and pedestrians alike a novel jauntiness, so that bus drivers jested and even the lips of chauffeurs uncurled into not unkindly smiles. Policemen whistled at their posts--clerks, on their way to work; beggars approached the task of trying to persuade perfect strangers to bear the burden of their maintenance with that optimistic vim which makes all the difference. It was one of those happy mornings. At nine o'clock precisely the door of Number Seven Arundell