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It was a lovely twilight evening at Lytton Springs, India. These famous springs were very high up in the Araville hills; Mandavee was the nearest city, situated on a small island in the Arabian sea. The great red sun was slowly sinking as the bells were ringing the Angelus from an ancient Hindoo temple. The sacred chimes pealed forth melodiously, the sweet sounds echoing forth the harmony of those bells. Inside of this ancient temple sweet incense was burning on a beautiful golden altar. A dark, handsome prince and his family were praying around this sacred altar. Here they would often see beautiful visions of angels and their loved ones who had died in this same faith years ago. This faith was a strange, mysterious, mythical religion, handed down from the ancient Indians. It was a mixture of Catholicism and Hindooism. The Prince and his family were highly educated and great musicians; they were all great Psychics, and often spent hours in this old temple praying. They lived in constant communion with their saints, who constantly watched over them and protected them. At the other side of this altar a strange veiled princess was silently praying. After sunset they all left the temple with bowed heads. They went to their summer homes in the hills. Sita, the Prince’s only daughter, felt sorry for the lonely stranger and invited her to their lovely home in the mountains.