"It smells just like assafoedita. It is awful-smelling stuff; and I wonder
if they don't make it out of this smoke, for it hits my nose in just the
same way," said Mrs. Blossom. "I took care of old Jotham Beeling when he
had the apoplexy, and gave the stuff to him. The room smelt then just the
same as it does here."
"You are quite right, madam," said Dr. Hawkes, laughing. "It gets part of
its name from its bad odor; but it is not made out of smoke. Asa is the gum
of a tree that grows here. It has a very offensive odor, which gives it the
rest of the name, from _foeditas_, meaning foul, filthy."
The workmen who were operating the burning were nearly naked, begrimed by
the sooty smoke, and looked like so many imps. They were stirring up the
fires with long iron pokers, and throwing vessels of oil upon them. The
boat passed beyond the fumes of the pyres, and came up to the ghat, at the
request of Lord Tremlyn. A multitude of hideous-looking cripples,
humpbacks, and beggars made an onslaught on the steamer; and the boys and
gentlemen pelted them with coppers, with which they had been forewarned to
supply themselves. It was fun to them, and the mendicants enjoyed it quite
as much.
"There is a procession of pilgrims just arrived," said Captain Carlisle,
pointing to the high ground beyond the ghat. "They are coming here all the
time.
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