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diff --git a/29427-h/29427-h.htm b/29427-h/29427-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8b59928 --- /dev/null +++ b/29427-h/29427-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10003 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Lotus Buds, by Amy Carmichael</title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + img {border: 0;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + .copyright {text-align: center; font-size: 70%;} + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify;} + + .bbox {border: solid 2px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold; font-size: 70%;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .unindent {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + .right {text-align: right;} + .poem {margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .poem2 {margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .sig {margin-right: 10%; text-align: right;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align:baseline; + position: relative; + bottom: 0.33em; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + .hang1 {text-indent: -3em; margin-left: 3em;} + .cap:first-letter {float: left; clear: left; margin: -0.2em 0.1em 0; margin-top: 0%; + padding: 0; line-height: .75em; font-size: 300%; text-align: justify;} + .cap {text-align: justify;} + .sidenote {width: 15%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; text-align: center; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; border: solid 1px;} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Lotus Buds, by Amy Carmichael</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Lotus Buds</p> +<p>Author: Amy Carmichael</p> +<p>Release Date: July 16, 2009 [eBook #29427]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOTUS BUDS***</p> +<p> </p> +<h4>E-text prepared by the Bookworm, Emmy,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net/c/">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> + from digital material generously made available by<br /> + Internet Archive/American Libraries<br /> + (<a href="http://www.archive.org/details/americana">http://www.archive.org/details/americana</a>)</h4> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;" cellpadding="10"> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Note: + </td> + <td> + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/American Libraries. See + <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/lotusbuds00carmiala"> + http://www.archive.org/details/lotusbuds00carmiala</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p> + +<h1>LOTUS BUDS</h1> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 354px;"> +<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="354" height="500" alt="The Great Rock. (Page 338.)" title="" /> +<span class="caption">The Great Rock. (<i><a href="#Page_338">Page 338</a></i>.)</span> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>LOTUS BUDS</h2> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>AMY WILSON-CARMICHAEL</h2> + +<div class='center'><i>Keswick Missionary C.E.Z.M.S.</i><br /> + +<br /> +AUTHOR OF<br /> +"THINGS AS THEY ARE"; "OVERWEIGHTS OF JOY";<br /> +"THE BEGINNING OF A STORY," ETC.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +WITH FIFTY HALF-TONE ILLUSTRATIONS<br /> +FROM PHOTOS SPECIALLY TAKEN FOR THIS WORK<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +MORGAN AND SCOTT LD.<br /> +12 PATERNOSTER BUILDINGS<br /> +LONDON MCMXII<br /> +</div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p> + +<div class='copyright'><i>Copyright, Morgan & Scott Ld., 1909</i><br /> + +<br /><br /><br /> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Editions"> +<tr><td align='left'>FIRST EDITION, <i>Quarto</i> (<i>Fifty Photogravure Illustrations</i>) </td><td align='right'>2,000 <i>Nov., 1909</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>EDITION DE LUXE (<i>Fifty Photogravures on Japon Vellum</i>)</td><td align='right'>250 <i>Nov., 1909</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>OCTAVO EDITION (<i>Fifty Half-tone Engravings</i>)</td><td align='right'>5,250 <i>July, 1912</i></td></tr> +</table></div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p> + +<h2><i>TO THOSE WHO CARE</i></h2> + + +<div class='unindent'><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Dohnavur, Tinnevelly District,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><span class="smcap">South India</span></span><br /> +<br /> +<i>Christmas, 1909.</i><br /></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span></p> + +<div class='poem'> +Each for himself, we live our lives apart,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Heirs of an age that turns us all to stone;</span><br /> +Yet ever Nature, thrust from out the heart,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Comes back to claim her own.</span><br /> +<br /> +Still we have something left of that fair seed<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">God gave for birthright; still the sound of tears</span><br /> +Hurts us, and children in their helpless need<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Still call to listening ears.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Owen Seaman.</span><br /> +<i>From</i> "In a Good Cause."<br /></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p> + +<h2><i>FOREWORD</i></h2> +<h3><i>TO THE</i></h3> +<h2><i>PRESENT EDITION</i></h2> + + +<div class='cap'><i>WHEN first "Things as they are" trod the +untrodden way, it walked as a small +child walks when for the first time it ventures +forth upon young, uncertain feet. It has to walk; +it does not know why: it only knows there is no +choice about it. But there is an eager looking +for an outstretched hand, and an instant gratefulness +always, for even a finger. A whole hand +given without reserve is something never forgotten.</i></div> + +<p><i>It was only a child after all, and it had not +anticipated having to find its way alone among +strangers. It had thought of nothing further than +a very short walk among familiar faces. If it +had understood beforehand how far it would have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span> +to walk, I doubt if it would have had the courage +to start; for it was not naturally brave. But +once on its way it could not turn back; and +thanks to those kindly outstretched hands, it grew +a little less afraid, and it went on.</i></p> + +<p><i>Then another small wayfarer followed. It +also was very easily discouraged; an unfriendly +push would have knocked it over at once. But +nobody seemed to want to push so unpretentious a +thing, so it gained courage and went on.</i></p> + +<p><i>And now a more grown-up looking traveller +(though indeed its looks belie it) has started on +its way; more diffident, if the truth must be told, +than even its predecessors. For it thought within +itself—Perhaps there will be no welcoming hands +held out this time; hands may grow tired of such +kind offices. But it has not been so. And now +the sense of gratefulness cannot longer be repressed.</i></p> + +<p><i>All of which means that I want to thank +sincerely those kings of the Book World—Reviewers—and +those dwellers in that world who are my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span> +Readers, for their insight and the sympathy to +which I owe so much.</i></p> + +<p><i>Once I read of a soldier who wrote a letter +home from the midst of a battle, on a crumpled +piece of paper laid upon a cannon ball. His +home people he knew would overlook the appearance +of the paper and the lack of various things +expected in a letter written in a quiet room upon +a study table. And he knew he could trust them +not to bring too fine a criticism to bear upon the +unstudied words hot from the battle's heart.</i></p> + +<p><i>I have thought sometimes that these books were +not unlike that soldier's letter; and those who read +them seem to me very like his home people, for +they have been so generous in the kindness of their +welcome.</i></p> + +<div class='sig'> +<i>Amy Wilson-Carmichael.</i><br /> +</div> +<div class='unindent'> +<i>Dohnavur,</i><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Tinnevelly District</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>S. India.</i></span><br /> +<br /> +<i>Feb. 19, 1912.</i><br /></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE WRITER TO THE READER</h2> + + +<div class='cap'>THE photographs (except two) were taken by Mr. Penn, +of Ootacamund, whose work is known to all who care +to possess good photographs of the South Indian hills. +The babies were a new experience to him, and something of +a trial, I fear, after the mountains, which can be trusted to +sit still.</div> + +<p>The book has been written for lovers of children. Those +who find such young life tiresome will find the story dull, +and the kindest thing it can ask of them is not to read it +at all.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'><small>CHAPTER</small></td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>I. </td><td align='left'>LOTUS BUDS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>II. </td><td align='left'>OPPOSITES</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_7">5</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>III. </td><td align='left'>THE SCAMP</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_17">15</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IV. </td><td align='left'>THE PHOTOGRAPHS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_25">23</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>V. </td><td align='left'>TARA AND EVU</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_33">31</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VI. </td><td align='left'>PRINCIPALITIES, POWERS, RULERS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_43">41</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VII. </td><td align='left'>HOW THE CHILDREN COME</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_53">51</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VIII. </td><td align='left'>OTHERS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_63">61</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IX. </td><td align='left'>OLD DÉVAI</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_69">67</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>X. </td><td align='left'>FAILURES?</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_77">75</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XI. </td><td align='left'>GOD HEARD: GOD ANSWERED</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_87">85</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XII. </td><td align='left'>TO WHAT PURPOSE?</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_97">95</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIII. </td><td align='left'>A STORY OF COMFORT</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_105">103</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIV. </td><td align='left'>PICKLES AND PUCK</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_115">113</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XV. </td><td align='left'>THE HOWLER</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_123">121</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVI. </td><td align='left'>THE NEYOOR NURSERY</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_131">129</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVII. </td><td align='left'>IN THE COMPOUND AND NEAR IT</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_143">141</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVIII. </td><td align='left'>FROM THE TEMPLE OF THE ROCK</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_155">153</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIX. </td><td align='left'>YOSÉPU</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_161">159</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</a></span>XX. </td><td align='left'>THE MENAGERIE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_171">169</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXI. </td><td align='left'>MORE ANIMALS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_185">183</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXII. </td><td align='left'>THE PARROT HOUSE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_193">191</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXIII. </td><td align='left'>THE BEAR GARDEN</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_203">201</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXIV. </td><td align='left'>THE ACCALS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXV. </td><td align='left'>THE LITTLE ACCALS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_229">227</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXVI. </td><td align='left'>THE GLORY OF THE USUAL</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_237">235</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXVII. </td><td align='left'>THE SECRET TRAFFIC</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_247">245</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXVIII. </td><td align='left'>BLUE BOOK EVIDENCE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_255">253</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXIX. </td><td align='left'>"VERY COMMON IN THOSE PARTS"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_263">261</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXX. </td><td align='left'>ON THE SIDE OF THE OPPRESSORS THERE WAS POWER</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_271">269</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXXI. </td><td align='left'>AND THERE WAS NONE TO SAVE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_281">279</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXXII. </td><td align='left'>THE POWER BEHIND THE WORK</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_293">291</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXXIII. </td><td align='left'>IF THIS WERE ALL</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_303">301</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXXIV. </td><td align='left'>"TO CONTINUE THE SUCCESSION"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_311">309</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXXV. </td><td align='left'>WHAT IF SHE MISSES HER CHANCE?</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_323">321</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XXXVI. </td><td align='left'>"THY SWEET ORIGINAL JOY"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_333">331</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[xv]</a></span></p> + +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="List of Illustrations"> +<tr><td align='left'> </td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE GREAT ROCK</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_ii"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>LOTUS FLOWERS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_2">3</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"GOD'S FIRE"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_8">8</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"AIYO! DID YOU THINK I WOULD HAVE DONE IT?"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHELLALU WATCHING THE PICTURE-CATCHER</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"OH, IT'S A JOKE!"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"THAT THING AGAIN!"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>PYÂRIE AND VINEETHA</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"DISGUSTING!"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"LOOK AT THE POSE!"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_29">30</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>TARA</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>STURDY AND STOLID, AND LITTLE VEERA</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>PEBBLES</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>LATHA (FIREFLY) BLOWING BUBBLES</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>SEELA, MALA, AND NULLINIE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE COTTAGE NURSERY</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"PICKLES" AND HER FRIENDS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE DOHNAVUR COUNTRY IN FLOOD</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>PAKIUM AND NAVEENA</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>ON THE ROAD TO NEYOOR</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF NAGERCOIL</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE NEYOOR NURSERY</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[xvi]</a></span>THE OLD NURSERY (THE "ROOM OF JOY")</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE COURTYARD</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A COMING-DAY FEAST</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE RED LAKE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>AT THE DOOR OF THE TEMPLE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE WATER CARRIERS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE BELOVED TINGALU</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>TWO VIEWS OF LIFE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>MORE ANIMALS: DEPRESSED</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>TUBBING</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>RED LAKE, AND HILL AS SEEN FROM THE TARAHA NURSERY</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_193">193</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHILDREN WADING</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHILDREN WADING</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>ESLI, AND LITTLE KOHILA</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_198">198</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>PREETHA AWARE OF A FOE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>JULLANIE AMONG THE GRASSES</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>ARULAI AND RUKMA, WITH NAVEENA</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_210">210</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>PONNAMAL, PREETHA, AND TARA</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>SELLAMUTTU AND SUSEELA</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_216">216</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>SUHINIE, AND HER BABY, SUNUNDA</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THREE CONVERT WORKERS: SUNDOSHIE, SUHINIE, AND JEYANIE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>SEWING-CLASS IN THE COURTYARD</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_222">222</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THREE LITTLE ACCALS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_229">229</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>PREENA AND PREEYA</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>AFTER HER BOTTLE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>NORTH LAKE AND HILLS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_238">238</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>FROM THE ROCK, DOHNAVUR</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_338">338</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE PLACE OF BAPTISM</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_340">340</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>Lotus Buds</h3><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-01.jpg" width="550" height="388" alt="LOTUS FLOWERS. From that same pool, afterwards gathered by permission and given to us." title="" /> +<span class="caption">LOTUS FLOWERS.<br /> + +From that same pool, afterwards gathered by permission and given to us.</span> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> +<h2>LOTUS BUDS</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>Lotus Buds</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>NEAR an ancient temple in Southern India is a large +calm, beautiful pool, enclosed by stone walls, broken +here and there by wide spaces fitted with steps leading +down to the water's edge; and almost within reach of the +hand of one standing on the lowest step are pink Lotus lilies +floating serenely on the quiet water or standing up from it +in a certain proud loveliness all their own.</div> + +<p>We were travelling to the neighbouring town when we +came upon this pool. We could not pass it with only a glance, +so we stopped our bullock-carts and unpacked ourselves—we +were four or five to a cart—and we climbed down the +broken, time-worn steps and gazed and gazed till the beauty +entered into us.</p> + +<p>Who can describe that harmony of colour, a Lotus-pool +in blossom in clear shining after rain! The grey old walls, +the brown water, the dark green of the Lotus leaves, the +delicate pink of the flowers; overhead, infinite crystalline +blue; and beyond the old walls, palms.</p> + +<p>With us was a young Indian friend. "I will gather +some of the lilies for you," he said, with the quick Indian +desire to give pleasure; but some one interposed: "They must +not be gathered by us. The pool belongs to the Temple."</p> + +<p>It was as if a stone had been flung straight at a mirror. +There was a sense of crash and the shattering of some bright<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +image. The Lotus-pool was a Temple pool; its flowers are +Temple flowers. The little buds that float and open on the +water, lifting young innocent faces up to the light as it +smiles down upon them and fills them through with almost +a tremor of joyousness, these Lotus buds are sacred things—sacred +to whom?</p> + +<p>For a single moment that thought had its way, but only +for a moment. It flashed and was gone, for the thought was +a false thought: it could not stand against this—"All souls +are Mine."</p> + +<p>All souls are His, all flowers. An alien power has possessed +them, counted them his for so many generations, that we have +almost acquiesced in the shameful confiscation. But neither +souls nor flowers are his who did not make them. They were +never truly his. They belong to the Lord of all the earth, the +Creator, the Redeemer. The little Lotus buds are His—His +and not another's. The children of the temples of South +India are His—His and not another's.</p> + +<p>So now we go forth with the Owner Himself to claim His +own possession. There is hope in the thought, and confidence +and the purest inspiration. And, stirred to the very depths, +as we are and must be many a time when we see the tender +Lotus buds gathered by a hand that has no right to them, +and crushed underfoot; bewildered and sore troubled, as +the heart cannot help being sometimes, when the mystery of +the apparent victory of evil over good is overwhelming: +even so there will be always a hush, a rest, a repose of spirit, +as we stand by the Lotus-pools of life and seek in His Name +to gather His flowers.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>Opposites</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>BALA is nearly four. There are so many much younger +things in the nursery, that Bala feels almost grown +up: four will be quite grown up; it will be nice to +be four. Bala takes life seriously, she has always done so; +she thinks it would be monotonous to have too many +frivolous babies. But Bala's eyes can sparkle as no other +eyes ever do; and her mirth is something by itself, like a +little hidden fountain in the heart of a wood, with the +sweetness of surprise in it and very pure delight.</div> + +<p>When Bala came to us first she was between one and +two, an age when most babies have a good deal to say. +Bala said nothing. She was like a book with all its leaves +uncut; and some who saw her, forgetting that uncut books +are sometimes interesting, concluded she was dull. "Quite +a prosaic child," they said; but Bala did not care. There +are some babies, like some grown-up people, who show all +they have to show upon first acquaintance and to all. +Others cover the depths within, and open only to their own. +Bala is one of these; and even with her own she has seasons +of reserve.</p> + +<p>Her first remark, however, shown rather than said, was +not romantic. She was too old for a bottle, and she seemed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +to feel sore over this. But she noted the time the infants +were fed, and followed the nurses about while they were +preparing the meal; and when they sat down to give it, +each to her respective baby, Bala would choose the one of +most uncertain appetite, and sit down beside it and wait. +There was an expression on her face at such times which +suggested a hymn, set it humming in one's head in fact, +in spite of all efforts to escape it. More than once we have +caught ourselves singing it, and pulled up sharply: "Even +me! Even me! Let some droppings fall on me."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-02.jpg" width="550" height="393" alt=""God's Fire." Taken on the bank of the Red Lake, near Dohnavur." title="" /> +<span class="caption">"God's Fire."<br />Taken on the bank of the Red Lake, near Dohnavur.</span> +</div> + +<p>Most of our family remind us very early that they trace +their descent to the mother of us all. Bala, on the contrary, +was good: so we almost forgot she was human, and began +to expect too much of her; but she got tired of this after +a while, and one day suddenly sinned. The surprise acted +like "hypo," and fixed the photograph.</p> + +<p>The place was the old nursery, which has one uncomfortably +dark corner in it. Something had offended Bala; she marched +straight into that corner and stamped. We can see her—poor +little girl—as she rumpled her curls with both her +hands, and flashed on the world a withering glance. "Scorn +to be scorned by those I scorn" was written large all over +the indignant little face.</p> + +<p>After this shock we were prepared for anything, but +nothing special happened; only when the demands made upon +her are unreasonable, then Bala retires into herself and +turns upon all foolish insistence a face that is a blank. If +this point is passed, the dark eyes can flash. But such +revealings are rare.</p> + +<p>When Bala was something under three, she was very +tender-hearted. One evening, after the first rains had flooded +the pools and revived the mosquitoes, the nursery wall was +the scene of many executions; and Bala could not bear it. +"Sittie, don't kill the poor <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'puchies'">pûchies</ins>!" she said pitifully;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +and Sittie, much touched, stopped to comfort and explain. +The other babies were delighting in the slaughter, pointing +out with glee each detested "<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'puchie'">pûchie</ins>"; but Bala is not like the +other babies. Later, the ferocious instinct common to most +young animals asserted itself in a relish for the horrible, +which rather contradicted the mosquito incident. Bala +visibly gloats over the gory head of Goliath, and intensely +admires David as he operates upon it. Her favourite part +of the story about his encounter with the lion is the suggestive +sentence, "I caught him by the beard"; and Bala +loves to show you exactly how he did it. But then that is +different from seeing it done; and after all it is only a story, +and it happened long ago.</p> +<div class='sidenote'>God's Fire</div> +<p>I have told how the ignorant once called Bala prosaic. +Bala knows nothing of poetry, but is full of the little seeds +of that strange and wonderful plant; and the time to get +to know her is when the evening sky is a golden blaze, or +glows with that mystic glory which wakens something +within us and makes it stir and speak.</p> + +<p>"God has not lighted His fire to-night," she said wistfully +one evening when the West was colourless; but when +that fire is lighted she stands and gazes satisfied. "What +does God do when His fire goes out?" was a question on +one such evening, as the mountains darkened in the passing +of the after-glow; and then: "Why does He not light it +every night?"</p> + +<p>"Amma! I have looked into Heaven!" she said suddenly +to me after a long silence. "I have seen quite in, and I know +what it is like." "What is it like? Can you tell me?" and +the child's voice answered dreamily: "It was shining, very +shining." Then with animation, in broken but vivid Tamil: +"Oh, it was beautiful! all a garden like our garden, only +bigger, and there were flowers and flowers and flowers!"—here +words failed to describe the number, and a comprehensive<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +sweep of the hand served instead. "And our dolls +can walk there. They never can down here, poor things! And +Jesus plays with our babies there" (the dear little sisters who +have gone to the nursery out of sight, but are unforgotten +by the children). "He plays with Indraneela—lovely games."</p> + +<p>"What games, Bala?" I asked, wondering greatly what +she would say. There was a long, thoughtful pause, and +Bala looked at me with grave, contented eyes:—</p> + +<p>"New games," she said simply.</p> + +<p>Bala's opposite is Chellalu. We never made any mistake +about her. We never thought her good. Not that she is +impossibly bad. She was created for play and for laughter, +and very happy babies are not often very wicked; but she +is so irrepressible, so hopelessly given up to fun, that her +kindergarten teacher, Rukma, smiles a rueful smile at the +mention of her name. For to Chellalu the most unreasonable +thing you can ask is implicit obedience, which unfortunately +is preferred by us to any amount of fun. She will learn to +obey, we are not afraid about that; but more than any of +our children, her attitude towards this demand has been one +of protest and surprise. She thinks it unfair of grown-up +people to take advantage of their size in the arbitrary way +they do. And when, disgusted with life's dispensations, she +condescends to expostulate, her "Ba-a-a-a" is a thing to +affright. But this is the wrong side of Chellalu, and not +for ever in evidence. The right side is not so depressing.</p> + +<p>It is a brilliant morning in late November. The world, +all washed and cooled by the rains, has not had time to get +hot and tired, and the air has that crystal quality which is +the charm of this season in South India. Every wrinkle on +the brown trunks of the trees in the compound, every twig +and leaf, stands out with a special distinctness of its own, +and the mountains in the distance glisten as if made of +precious stones.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">The Blameless Chellalu</div> +<p>Suddenly, all unconscious of affinity or contrast, a little +person in scarlet comes dancing into the picture, which opens +to receive her, for she belongs to it. Her hands are full +of Gloriosa lilies, fiery red, terra-cotta, yellow, delicate old-rose +and green—such a mingling of colour, but nothing discordant—and +the child, waving her spoils above her head, sings at +the top of her voice something intended to be the chorus +of a kindergarten song:—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +Oh, the delight of the glorious light!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The joy of the shining blue!</span><br /> +Beautiful flowers! wonderful flowers!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh, I should like to be you!</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"But, Chellalu, where did you get them?" for the lilies +in the garden are supposed to be safe from attack. Chellalu +looks up with frank, brown eyes. "For you!" she says briefly +in Tamil; but there is a wealth of forgiveness in the tone +as she offers her armful of flowers. Chellalu wonders at +grown-up hearts which can harbour unworthy suspicions +about blameless little children. As if she would have picked +them!</p> + +<p>"But, Chellalu, where did you get them?" and still looking +grieved and surprised and forgiving, Chellalu explains that +yesterday evening the elder sisters went for a walk in the +fields, and brought home so many lilies, that after all just +claims were met there were still some over—an expressive +gesture shows the heap—so Chellalu thought of her Ammal +(mother) and went and picked out the best for her. Then by +way of emphasis the story is attempted in English: "Very +good? Yesh. Naughty? No. Kindergarten room want +flowers? No. I" (patting herself approvingly) "very good; +yesh." With Chellalu, speech is a mere adjunct to conversation, +a sort of footnote to a page of illustration.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +The illustration is the thing that speaks. So now both +Tamil and English are illuminated by vivid gesture of hands, +feet, the whole body indeed; curls and even eyelashes play +their part, and the final impression produced upon her +questioner is one of complete contrition for ever having +so misjudged a thing so virtuous.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 348px;"> +<img src="images/illus-03.jpg" width="348" height="500" alt=""AIYO!" (Fingers and toes curled in grieved surprise.) "Did you think I would have done it?"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"AIYO!"<br />(Fingers and toes curled in grieved surprise.)<br />"Did you think I would have done it?"</span> +</div> + +<p>But Chellalu wastes no sympathy upon herself. She is +accustomed to be believed; and perfectly happy in her mind, +casts a keen glance round, for who knows what new delights +may be somewhere within reach! "Ah!"—the deep-breathed +sigh of content—is always a danger signal where this innocent +child is concerned. I turn in time to avert disaster, and +Chellalu, finding life dull with me, departs.</p> + +<p>Then the little scarlet figure with its crown of careless +curls scampers across the sunny space, and dives into the +shadow of a tree. There it stays. Something arresting has +happened—some skurry of squirrel up the trunk, or dart of +lizard, or hurried scramble of insect, under cover out of reach +of those terrible eyes. Or better still, something is "playing +dead," and the child, fascinated, is waiting for it to resurrect. +And then the song about the lilies begins again, only it is +all a jumble this time; for Chellalu sings just as it comes, +untrammelled by thoughts about sequence or sense, and when +she forgets the words she calmly makes them up. And I +cannot help thinking that Chellalu is very like her song; +here is an intelligible bit, a line or two in order, then a +cheerful tumble up, and an irresponsible conclusion. The +tune too seems in character—"Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird +on the wing"; the swinging old Jacobite air had fitted itself +to a nursery song about the brave fire-lilies, and something +in its abandon to the happy mood of the moment seems to +express the child.</p> + +<p>It is not easy to express her. "If you had to describe +Chellalu, how would you do it?" I asked my colleague this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +morning, hoping for illumination. "I would not attempt it! +Who would?" she answered helpfully.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">Only More So</div> +<p>"Chellalu! Oh, you need ten pairs of eyes and ten pairs +of hands, and even then you could never be sure you had her"—this +was her nurse's earliest description. She was six months +old then, she is three and three-quarters now; but she is +what she was, "only more so."</p> + +<p>Before Chellalu had a single tooth she had developed +mother-ways, and would comfort distressed babies by thrusting +into their open mouths whatever was most convenient. +At first this was her own small thumb, which she had once +found good herself; but she soon discovered that infants can +bite, and after that she offered rattle-handles. Later, she +used to stagger from one hammock to another and swing +them. And often, before she understood the perfect art of +balance, she would find herself, to her surprise, on the floor, +as the hammock in its rebound knocked her over. She felt +this ungrateful of the baby inside; but she seemed to reflect +that it was young and knew no better, for she never retaliated, +but picked herself up and began again. These hammocks, +which are our South Indian cradles, are long strips of white +cotton hung from the roof, and they make delightful swings. +Chellalu learned this early, and her nurse's life was a burden +to her because of the discovery.</p> + +<p>"She could walk before she could stand"—this is another +nursery description, and truer than it sounds. Certainly no +one ever saw Chellalu learning to walk. She was a baby +one day, rapid in unexpected motion, but only on all fours; +the next day—or so it seems, looking back—she was everywhere +on her two feet. "Now there will be no place where +she won't be!" groaned the family, the first time she was +seen walking about with an air of having done it all her +life. And appalling visions rose of Chellalu standing on the +wall of the well looking down, or sitting in the bucket left<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +by some careless water-drawer just on the edge of the wall, +or trying to descend by the rope.</p> + +<p>Before this date such diversions as the classic Pattycake +had been much in favour. Chellalu's Attai (the word here +and hereafter signifies Mrs. Walker, "Mother's elder sister") +had taught it to her; and whenever and wherever Chellalu +saw her Attai, she immediately began to perform "Prick it +and nick it" with great enthusiasm. But after she could +walk, Chellalu would have nothing more to do with such +childish things. "Show us Edward Rajah!" the older +children would say; and instead of standing up with a regal +dignity and crowning her curls with the appropriate gesture, +Chellalu would merely look surprised. They had forgotten. +She was not a baby now. Such trifles are for babies.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>The Scamp</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>"PAT-A-CAKE is a thing of the past, but the stage from +the highest point of view is still distinctly attractive"; +so decided Chellalu, and resolved to devote herself +thenceforth to this new and engrossing pursuit. She chose the +scene of her first public performance without consulting us. It +was the open floor of the church, on a Sunday morning, in the +midst of a large congregation. This was how it happened.</div> + +<p>Chellalu's Attai, who in those days was unaware of all the +painful surprises in store, had taken her to morning service, +and allowed her to sit beside her on the mat at the back of the +church. All through the first part of the service Chellalu was +good; and as the sermon began, she was forgotten. In our +church we sit on the floor, men on one side, women and +children on the other. A broad aisle is left between, and the +Iyer (Mr. Walker), refusing to be boxed up in the usual +manner, walks up and down as he preaches. This interested +Chellalu.</p> + +<p>That morning the sermon was to children, and the subject +was "Girdles." The East of this ancient India is the East to +which the prophet spoke by parable and picture; and, following +that time-worn path, the preacher pictured the parable +of Jeremiah's linen girdle: the attention of the people was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +riveted upon him, and no one noticed what was happening on +the mat at the end of the church. Only we, up at the front +with all the other children, saw, without being able to stop it, +the dreadful pantomime. For Chellalu, wholly absorbed and +pleased with this unexpected delight, first stood on the mat +and acted the girdle picture; then, growing bolder, advanced +out into the open aisle, and, following the preacher's gestures, +reproduced them all exactly. It was a moment of tension; but +if ever a child had a good angel in attendance, Chellalu has, +for something always stops her before the bitter end. I forget +what stopped her then; something invisible, and so, doubtless, +the angel. But we did not breathe freely till we had her safe +at home.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 351px;"> +<img src="images/illus-04.jpg" width="351" height="500" alt="CHELLALU, WATCHING THE PICTURE-CATCHER WITH SOME SUSPICION. "Whatever is he doing with that black box?"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">CHELLALU, WATCHING THE PICTURE-CATCHER WITH SOME SUSPICION.<br />"Whatever is he doing with that black box?"</span> +</div> + +<p>Chellalu's visible angel is the gentle Esli, a young convert-helper, +of a meek and lowly disposition. At first sight nothing +seems more unsuitable, for Chellalu needs a firm hand. But +firmness without wisdom would have been disastrous; so as we +had not the perfect combination, we chose the less dangerous +virtue, and gave the nursery scamp to the gentlest of us all. +Sometimes, to tell the whole unromantic truth, we have been +afraid less Esli was spilling emotion in vain upon this graceless +soul; and we have suggested an exchange of angels—but somehow +it has never come to pass. Once we almost did it. For a +noise past all bounds called us down to the nursery, and we +found the cause of it in a huddled heap in the corner. +"Chellalu! what is the matter?" Only the softest of soft +sobs, heard in the silence that followed our advent, and one +round shoulder heaved, and the curly head went down on +the arm in an attitude of woe. Now this is not Chellalu's +way at all. Soft sobbing is not in her line; and I turned to +the twenty-nine children now prancing about in unholy glee, +and they shouted the explanation: "Oh, she is Esli Accal! +She was very exceedingly naughty. She would not come when +Accal called; she raced round the room so fast that Accal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +could not catch her, and then she jumped out of her cumasu" +(the single small garment worn), "and ran out into the garden! +And Esli Accal sat down in a corner and cried. And Chellalu +is Esli Accal!"</p> + +<div class="sidenote">Their Real Use</div> +<p>But the pet opportunity in those glad days was when some +freak of manner in friend or visitor suggested a new game. +We used to wish, sometimes, that these kind people understood +how much pleasure they were giving to the artless babe +who was studying them with such interest, while they, all +unconscious of their real use, imagined probably she was +thinking of nothing more serious than sweets. After an +hour in the bungalow, Chellalu would wander off, apparently +because she was tired of us, but really because she was full +of a new and original idea, and wanted an audience. Once +she puzzled the nursery community who had not been visiting +the bungalow, by mincing about on pointed toes, with shoulders +shrugged like a dancing master in caricature. The babies +thought this a very nice game, and for weeks they played it +industriously.</p> + +<p>Chellalu talked late—she has long ago made up for lost time—but +she was never at a loss for an answer to a question which +could be answered by action. "Who is in the nursery now?" +we asked her one afternoon when she had escaped before the +tea-bell, that trumpet of jubilee to the nursery, had rung. +She smiled and sat down slowly, and then sighed. Another +sigh, and she proceeded to perform her toilet. When the +small hands went up to the head with an action of decorously +swinging the back hair up and coiling it into a loose knot, and +when a spasmodic shake suggested it must be done over again, +there was no doubt as to who was in charge. No one but the +excellent Pakium, one of our earlier workers, ever did things +quite like this. No one else was so ponderous. No one +sighed in that middle-aged manner, no one but Pakium. We +never could blame Pakium for Chellalu's escape. As well<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +blame a mature cat for the escapades of her kitten. Chellalu, +watching for a clue as to her fate, would sigh again profoundly. +It was never easy to return her.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 354px;"> +<img src="images/illus-05.jpg" width="354" height="500" alt=""OH, IT'S A JOKE!"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"OH, IT'S A JOKE!"</span> +</div> + +<p>We were not sorry when this phase passed into something +safer for herself, though perhaps not so charming to the +public. Chellalu at two and three-quarters had surgical +ambitions. Medical work she considered slow. She liked +operations. Her first, so far as we know, was performed +upon the unwilling eye of a smaller and weaker sister. "Lie +down!" she had commanded, and the patient had lain down. +"Open your eyes!" At this point the victim realised what +she was in for, and her howls brought deliverance; but not +before Chellalu had the agitated baby's head in a firm +grip between her knees, and holding the screwed-up +eye wide open with one hand, was proceeding to drop in +"medicine" with the other. Mercifully the medicine was +water.</p> + +<p>Thwarted in this direction, Chellalu applied herself to +bandaging. She would persuade someone to lend her a +finger or a toe; the owner was assured it was sore—very +sore. She would then proceed to bandage it to the best of +her ability. But all this was mere play. What Chellalu's +soul yearned for was a real knife, or even only a needle, provided +it would prick and cause red blood to flow. Oh to +be allowed to operate properly, as grown-up people do! +Chellalu had seen them do it—had seen thorns extracted +from little bare feet, and small sores dressed; and it had +deeply interested her. The difficulty was, no one would +offer a limb. She walked up and down the nursery one +morning with a bit of an old milk tin, very jagged and sharp +and inviting, and secreted in her curls was a long, bright +darning needle; but though she took so much trouble to +prepare, no one would give her a chance to perform, and +Chellalu was disgusted. Someone who did not know her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +suggested she should perform on herself. This disgusted +her still more. Do doctors perform on themselves!</p> + +<div class="sidenote">Yesh: No</div> +<p>Chellalu's latest phase introduces the kindergarten. For +an educational comrade, perceiving our defects in this direction, +furnished a kindergarten for us, and gave us a kind +push-off into these pleasant waters; so the little boat sails +gaily, and the children at least are content.</p> + +<p>Chellalu has never been so keen about this institution as +the other babies are. "Do you like the kindergarten?" some +one asked her the other day; and she answered with her +usual decision: "Yesh. No." We thought she was talking +at random, and tested her by questions about things which +we knew she liked or disliked. But she was never caught. +"Well, then, don't you like the kindergarten?" "Yesh. +No." It was evident she knew what she meant, and said it +exactly. Bits of it she likes, other bits she thinks might +be improved. The trouble is that she has an objection to +sitting in the same place for more than a minute at +longest. Other babies, steady, mature things of five, are +already evolving quite orderly sentences in English—the +language in which the kindergarten is partly taught—and +we feel they are getting on. Chellalu never stops long +enough to evolve anything, and yet she seems to be doing +a little. From the first week she has talked all she knew +in unabashed fashion. "Good morning very much" was an +early production; and it was followed by many oddments +forgotten now, but comical in effect at the time, which +perhaps may explain the otherwise inexplicable fact that +she sometimes learns something.</p> + +<p>One only of those early dashes into the unexplored land +is remembered, because it enriched us with a new synonym. +It was at afternoon tea that a sympathetic Sittie (the word +means "Mother's younger sister"), knowing that Chellalu +had received something thoroughly well earned, asked her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +in English: "What did Ammal give you this morning?" +Chellalu caught at the one familiar word in this sentence +(for the babies learn the names of the flowers in the garden +before they are troubled with lesser matters), and she +answered brightly: "Morning-glory!" So Morning-glory has +become to us an <i>alias</i> for smacks.</p> + +<p>This same Morning-glory is the <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'subjeect'">subject</ins> of one of the +kindergarten songs. For after searching through two or +three hundred pages of nursery rhymes, and interviewing +many proper kindergarten songs, we found few that belonged +to the Indian babies' world; and so we had to make them +for ourselves. These songs are about the flowers and the +birds and other simple things, and are twittered by the +tiniest with at least some intelligence, which at present is +as much as we can wish. All the babies sing to the flowers, +but it is Chellalu who gives them surprises. One day we +saw her standing under a bamboo arch, covered with her +favourite Morning-glory. She had two smaller babies with +her, one on either side. "Amma! <i>Look!</i>" she called; but +italics are inadequate to express the emphasis. "<span class="smcap">Look</span>, +Morning—glory—kissing—'chother," and she pointed with +eagerness to the nestling little clusters of lilac, growing, as +their pretty manner is, close to each other. Then, seizing +each of the babies in a fervent and somewhat embarrassing +embrace, she hugged and kissed them both; and finally +wheeling round on the flowers, addressed them impressively: +"For—all—loving—little—Indian—children—want—to—be—like—you."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>The Photographs</h3> + + +<div class="figright" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/illus-06.jpg" width="350" height="500" alt=""THAT THING AGAIN!" (Page 28.)" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"THAT THING AGAIN!" (<a href="#Page_28"><i>Page 28</i></a>.)</span> +<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='cap'>I DO not know how they will strike the critical public, +but the photos are so much better than we dared to +expect, that we are grateful and almost satisfied. Of +course, they are insipid as compared with the lively originals; +but the difficulty was to get them of any truthful +sort whatsoever, for the babies regarded the photographer—the +kindest and mildest of men—with the gravest suspicion: +and the moment he appeared, little faces, all +animation before, would stiffen into shyness, and the light +would slip out of them, and the naturalness, so that all +the camera saw, and therefore all it could show, was a +succession of blanks.</div> + +<p>Then, too, when our artist friend was with us we were +in the grasp of an epidemic of cholera. Morning and +evening, and sometimes into the night, we were tending +the sick and dying in the village; and in the interval +between we had little heart for photographs. But the +visit of a real photographer is a rare event in Dohnavur, +and we forced ourselves to try to take advantage of it. +Remembering our difficulties, we wonder we got anything +at all; and we hope that stranger eyes will be kind.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 352px;"> +<img src="images/illus-07.jpg" width="352" height="500" alt="PYÂRIE AND VINEETHA. "Do smile, you little Turk!"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">PYÂRIE AND VINEETHA.<br />"Do smile, you little Turk!"</span> +</div> + +<p>Often when we looked at the pretty little reversed +picture in the camera, with its delicate colouring and the +grace of movement, we have wished that we could send +it as we saw it, all living and true. The photos were +taken in the open air; underfoot was soft terra-cotta-coloured +sand; overhead, the cloudless blue. In such a setting the +baby pictures look their brightest, something very different +from these dull copies in sepia. An Oriental scene in +print always looks sorry for itself, and quite apologetic. +It knows it is almost a farce, and very flat and poor.</p> + +<p>Then there were difficulties connected with character. +Our photographer was more accustomed to the dignified +ways of mountains than to the extremely restless habit of +children; and he never could understand why they would +not sit for him as the mountains sat, and let him focus +them comfortably. The babies looked at things from an +opposite point of view, and strongly objected to delays +and leisureliness of every description. Sometimes when the +focussing process promised to be much prolonged, we put +a child we did not wish to photograph in the place of +one upon whom we had designs, and then at the last +moment exchanged her. But the baby thus beguiled +seemed to divine our purpose; and, resenting such ensnarements, +would promptly wriggle out of focus. It was +like trying to observe some active animalculæ under a +high power. The microscope is perfect, the creatures are +entrapped in a drop of water on the slide; but the game +is not won by any means. Sometimes, after spoiling more +plates than was convenient, our artist almost gave up in +despair; but he never quite gave up, and we owe what +we have to his infinite patience.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">The Bête Noir</div> +<p>Pyârie was the most troublesome of these small sitters, +though she was old enough to know better. My mother +was with us when she came to us, a tiny babe and very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +delicate. She had loved her and helped to nurse her, and +so we wanted a happy photograph for her sake; but +nothing was further from Pyârie's intentions, and instead +of smiling, she scowled. Our first attempt was in the +compound, where a bullock-bandy stood. Pyârie and +Vineetha, a little girl of about the same age, were very +pleased to climb over the pole and untwist the rope and +play see-saw; but when the objectionable camera appeared, +they stared at it with aversion, and no amount of coaxing +would persuade Pyârie to smile. "Can't you do something +to improve her expression?" inquired the photographer, +emerging from his black hood; then someone said in desperation: +"<i>Do</i> smile, you little Turk!" Vineetha, about +whose expression we were not concerned, obediently smiled; +but Pyârie looked thunderclouds, and turned her head away. +She was caught before she turned, poor dear, so that +photograph was a failure.</p> + +<p>Once again our kind friend tried. This time he gave +her a doll. Pyârie is most motherly. She is usually tender +and loving with dolls, and we hoped for a sweet expression. +But in this we were disappointed. She accepted the +doll—a beautiful thing, with a good constitution and imperturbable +temper; and she looked it straight in the +face—a rag face painted—smiling as we wanted her to +smile. Then she smote it, and she scolded it, and called +for a stick and whacked it, and called for a bigger stick +and repeated the performance. Finally she stopped, laid +the doll upon the step, sat down on it, and smiled. But +she was hopelessly out of focus by this time, and it was +weary work getting her in. She smiled during the process +in a perfectly exasperating manner, but the moment all +was ready she suddenly wriggled out; and when invited +to go in again, she shook her head decidedly, and pointing +to the camera with its glaring glass eye, covered at that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +moment with its cloth, she remarked, "Naughty! Naughty!" +and we had to give her up.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-08.jpg" width="550" height="387" alt=""DISGUSTING!" SHE REMARKED IN EXPLICIT YOUNG TAMIL, AND LOOKED DISGUSTED." title="" /> +<span class="caption">"DISGUSTING!" SHE REMARKED IN EXPLICIT YOUNG TAMIL, AND LOOKED DISGUSTED.</span> +</div> + +<p>"Perhaps she would be happier in someone's arms," next +suggested the long-suffering artist; and so one morning, just +after her bath, she was caught up, sweet and smiling, and +played with till the peals of merry laughter assured us of an +easy victory. But the camera was no sooner seen stalking +round to the nursery, than suspicions filled Pyârie's breast. +That thing again! And the photograph taken under such +circumstances is left to speak for itself. Why did it follow +her everywhere? Life, haunted by a camera, was not worth +living—in which sentiment some of us heartily concur.</p> +<div class="sidenote"><i>I</i> want a birthday</div> + +<p>Once an attempt was made when Pyârie and two other +little girls were busily playing on the doorstep. Pyârie soon +perceived and expressed her opinion about the fraud—for the +camera's stealthy approach could not be kept from the +children. "Disgusting!" she remarked in explicit young +Tamil, and looked disgusted. The photograph which resulted +was perfect in detail of little rounded limb and curly head, +but it was lamentable as regards expression; so once more +our persevering friend tried to catch her unawares. He +showed us the result at breakfast in the shape of a negative +which we recognised as Pyârie. He seemed very pleased. +"Look at the pose!" he said. There was pose certainly, but +where was the smile? Pyârie's one idea had evidently been +to ward off something or someone; and our artist explained +it by saying that in despair of getting her quiet for one second, +he had directed his servant to climb an almost overhanging +tree, and the child apparently thought he was going to tumble +on the top of her, and objected. "I got another of her smiling +beautifully, but the plate is cracked," we were told, after the +table had admired the pose. That is a way plates have. The +one you most want cracks.</p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 353px;"> +<img src="images/illus-09.jpg" width="353" height="500" alt=""'LOOK AT THE POSE!' He said. There was pose, certainly, but where was the smile?" (Page 28.)" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"'LOOK AT THE POSE!'<br /> He said. There was pose, certainly, but where was the smile?" (<i><a href="#Page_28">Page 28.</a></i>)</span> +</div> + +<p>Poor little Pyârie; we sometimes fear lest her "pose"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +should be too true of her. She takes life hardly, and often +protests. "<i>I</i> want a birthday!"—this was only yesterday, +when everyone was rejoicing over a birthday jubilation. +Pyârie alone was sorrowful. She stood by her poor little +lonely self, with her head thrown back and her mouth wide +open, and her tears ran into her open mouth as she wailed: +"Aiyo! Aiyo! (Alas! Alas!) <i>I</i> want a birthday!"</p> + + +<p>But she is such a loving child, so loyal to her own and so +unselfish to all younger things, that we hope for her more +than we fear. And yet underneath there is a fear; and we +ask those who can understand to remember this little one +sometimes, for the world is not always kind to its poor little +foolish Pyâries.</p> + +<p>I am writing in the afternoon, and two little people are +playing on the floor. One has a picture-book, and the other is +looking eagerly as she turns the pages and questions: "What +is it? What is it?" I notice it is always Pyârie who asks +the question, and Vineetha who answers it: "It is a cow. It is +a cat." "Why don't you let Vineetha ask you what it is?" +I suggest; but Pyârie continues as before: "What is it? +What is it?" varied by "What colour is it? What shape is +it? Who made it?" and the mischief in her eyes (would that +our artist could have caught it!) explains the game. It is +decidedly better to be teacher than scholar, because suitable +questions can cover all ignorance. Pyârie has not been to the +kindergarten of late, and has reason to fear Vineetha is somewhat +ahead of her; so she ignores my proposals, and continues +her safe questions. We sometimes think we shall one night be +heard talking in our sleep, and the burden of our conversation +will be always—"What is it? What colour is it? What +shape is it? Who made it?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>Tara and Evu</h3> + + +<div class="figright" style="width: 355px;"> +<img src="images/illus-10.jpg" width="355" height="500" alt="TARA." title="" /> +<span class="caption">TARA.</span> +<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='cap'>OUR nurseries are full of contrasts, but perhaps the two +who are most unlike are the little Tara and Evu, aged, +at the hour of writing, three years and two and a half. +I am hammering at my typewriter, when clear through its +metallic monotony comes in distinct double treble, "Amma! +Tala!" "Amma! Evu!" They always announce each other +in this order, and with much emphasis. If it is impossible to +stop, I give them a few toys, and they sit down on the mat +exactly opposite my table and play contentedly. This lasts +for a short five minutes; then a whimper from Tara makes +me look up, and I see Evu, with a face of more mischief than +malice, holding all the toys—Tara's share and her own—in +a tight armful, while Tara points at her with a grieved +expression which does not touch Evu in the least. A word, +however, sets things right. Evu beams upon Tara, and pours +the whole armful into her lap. Tara smiles forgivingly, and +returns Evu's share. Evu repentantly thrusts them back. +Tara's heart overflows, and she hugs Evu. Evu wriggles out +of this embrace, and they play for another five minutes or +so without further misadventure.</div> + +<p>Only once I remember Evu sinned beyond forgiveness. +The occasion was Pyârie's rag-doll of smiling countenance, which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +had been badly neglected by the family. But Tara felt for +it and loved it. She was small at the time, and the doll was +large, and Tara must have got tired of carrying it; but she +would not tell it so, and for one whole morning she staggered +about with the cumbersome beauty tilted over her shoulder, +which gave her the appearance of an unbalanced but very +affectionate parent.</p> + +<p>This was too much for Evu, to whom the comic appeals +much more than the sentimental. She watched her opportunity, +and pounced upon the doll. Tara gave chase; but Evu's +fat legs can carry her faster than one would suppose, and +Tara's wails rose to a shriek when across half the garden's +width she saw that ruthless sinner swing her treasure round +by one arm and then deliberately jump on it. It was hours +before Tara recovered.</p> + +<p>Such a breach of the peace is happily rare; for the two +are a pretty illustration of the mutual attraction of opposites. +At this moment they are playing ball. This is the manner +of the game: Tara sits in a high chair and throws the ball +as far as she can. Evu dashes after it like an excited kitten, +and kitten-wise badly wants to tumble over and worry it; for +it is made of bits of wool, which, as every sensible baby knows, +were only put in to be pulled out. She resists the temptation, +however, and presents the ball to Tara with a somewhat +inconsequent "Tankou!" "Tankou!" returns Tara politely, +and tosses the ball again. This time Evu sits down with her +back to Tara, and proceeds to investigate the ball. It is +perfectly fascinating. The ends are all loose and quite easily +pulled out. Evu forgets all about Tara in her keen desire to +see to the far end of this delight. "Evu!" comes from the +chair in accents of dignified surprise. "Tala!" exclaims Evu +abashed, and hurries up with the ball. "Tankou!" she says +as before, and Tara responds "Tankou!" This is an integral +part of the game. If either forgets it, the other corrects her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +by remarking inquiringly, "Tankou?" whereupon the echo +replies in a tone of apology, "Tankou!"</p> + +<div class="sidenote">Devotions</div> +<p>Both these babies are devout, as most things Indian are. +But Evu cannot sit still long enough to be promoted to go +to church; and perhaps this is the reason why in religious +matters Tara takes the lead, for she does go to church. In +secularities it is always Evu who initiates, and Tara admiringly +follows. The ball game was exceptional only because Evu +prefers the <i>rôle</i> of kitten to that of queen.</p> + +<p>This little characteristic is shown in common ways. The +two are sitting on your knee entirely comfortable and content. +The prayer-bell rings. Down struggles Tara. "To prayers +I must go!" she says with decision in Tamil. "Evu too," +urges Evu, also in Tamil. "Tum!" says Tara in superior +English, and waits. Evu "tums," and they hastily depart.</p> + +<p>Or it is the time for evening hymns and good-night kisses. +We have sung through the chief favourites, ending always +with, "Jesus, tender Shepherd." "Now sing, 'Oh, luvvly lily +g'oing in our garden!'" This from Tara. Echo from Evu: +"Yes; 'Oh, luvvly lily g'oing in our garden!'" You point out +to the garden: "It is dark, there are no lovely lilies to be seen; +besides, that is not exactly a hymn; shall we have 'Jesus, +tender Shepherd,' again, and say good-night?" But this is not +at all satisfactory. Tara looks a little hurt. "Tender Shepperd, +<i>no!</i> Oh, luvvly lily!" Evu wonders if we are making excuses. +Perhaps we have forgotten the tune, and she starts it:—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +Oh, lovely lily,<br /> +Growing in our garden,<br /> +Who made a dress so fair<br /> +For you to wear?<br /> +Who made you straight and tall<br /> +To give pleasure to us all?<br /> +Oh, lovely lily,<br /> +Who did it all?<br /> +<br /> +Oh, little children,<br /> +Playing in our garden,<br /> +God made this dress so fair<br /> +For us to wear.<br /> +God made us straight and tall<br /> +To give pleasure to you all.<br /> +Oh, little children,<br /> +God did it all.<br /> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then Tara smiles all round, and you are given to understand +you have earned your good-night kisses. Evidently +to Tara at least there is a sense of incompleteness somewhere +if the lovely lilies are excluded from the family +devotions.</p> + +<p>To Tara and to Evu, as to most babies, the garden is a +pleasant place. But when they grow up and make gardens, +they will not fill them with forbidden joys as we do. One +of the temptations of life is furnished by inconsiderate ferns, +which hold their curly infant fronds just within reach. +Then there are crotons, with bright leaves aggressively yellow +and delightful, and there are "tunflowers"; and the babies +think us greedy in our attitude towards all these things. +The croton was especially alluring; and one day Tara was +found tiptoe on a low wall, reaching up with both hands, +eagerly pulling bits of leaf off. She was brought to me to +be judged; and I said: "Poor leaves! Shall we try to put +them on again?" And hand in hand we went to the garden, +and Tara tried. But the pulled-off bits would not fit on +again; and Tara's face was full of serious thought, though +she said nothing. Next day she was found on the same +low wall, reaching up tiptoe in the same sinful way to the +shining yellow leaves overhead. Quite suddenly she stopped, +put her hands behind her back, and never again was she +known to pick croton leaves to pieces.</p> + +<p>The same plan prevailed with the ferns. The poor little +crumples of silver and green moved her to pity, and she left +them to uncurl in peace when once she had tried and sadly failed +to help them. But the sunflowers' feelings did not affect her +in quite the same way. The kind we have in abundance is +that little dwarf variety with a thin stalk, and a cheerful +face which smiles up at you even after you behead it, and +does not seem to mind. Tara was convinced such treatment +did not hurt them. They would stop smiling if it did. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +one day she suddenly seemed to feel a pang of compunction, +for she looked at the little useless heads and sighed. I had +suggested their being fitted on again, as with the croton +leaves and ferns. But this idea had failed; and what +worked the change I know not, for Tara never told. But +"tunflowers" now are left in peace so far as she is concerned; +and she is learning to pick the free grasses and wild-flowers, +which happily grow for everybody, and to make sure their +stalks are long enough to go into water, which is the last +thing untutored babies seem to think important.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">Tara's Way</div> +<p>There is much to be done for all our children, but perhaps +for Tara especially, if she is to grow up strong in soul to +fight the battles of life. We felt this more than ever on +the day of our last return from the hills, after nearly seven +weeks' absence. On the evening when we left them, we had +gone round the nurseries after the little ones had fallen asleep, +and said goodbye to each of them without their knowing +it; but when we came to Tara's mat, and kissed the little +sleeping face, she stirred and said, "Amma!" in her sleep; +and we stole away fearing she should wake and understand. +Now in the early morning we were home again, and all +the children who were up were on the verandah to welcome +us, each in her own way. It was Tara's way which +troubled us.</p> + +<p>At first most of the babies were shy, for six weeks +are like six years to the very young; but soon there was +a general rush and a thoroughly cheerful chatter. Tara did +not join in it. She stood outside the little dancing dazzle +of delight—the confusion of little animated coloured dots +is rather like the shake of a kaleidoscope—and she just +looked and looked. Then, as we drew her close, the little +hands felt and stroked one's face as if the evidence of eye +and ear were not enough to make her sure beyond a doubt +that her own had come back to her; and then, as the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +assurance broke, she clung with a little cry of joy, and +suddenly burst into tears.</p> + +<p>If only we could hold her safe and sheltered in our arms +for ever! How the longing swept through one at that +moment: for the winds of the world are cold. But it cannot +be, it should not be, for such love would be weak indeed. +Rather do we long to brace the gentle nature so that its +very sensitiveness may change to a tender power, and the +fountain of sweet waters refresh many a desert place. But +who is sufficient for even this? Handle the little soul carelessly, +harden rather than brace, misinterpret the broken +expression, misunderstand the signs—and the sweet waters +turn to bitterness. God save us from such mistake!</p> + +<p>We covet prayer for our children. We want to know +that around them all is thrown that mysterious veil of protection +which is woven out of prayer. We need prayer, +too, for ourselves, that our love may be brave and wise.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">Kittenhood</div> +<p>Evu's disposition is different. It would not be easy to +imagine Evu overcome by her feelings as Tara was at that +hour of our return. One cannot imagine a kitten shedding +tears of joy; and Evu is a kitten, a dear little Persian kitten, +with nothing worse than mischief at present to account for. +Of that there is no lack. "Oh, it is Evu!" we say, and everyone +knows what to expect when "it is Evu." Evu's chief +sentiment that morning, so far as she expressed it, was +rather one of wonder at our ignorant audacity. "You +vanished in the night when we were all asleep, and now +you suddenly drop from the skies before we are properly +awake, and expect us all to begin again exactly where we +left off. How little you know of babies!" Doubtless this +sentence was somewhat beyond her in language; but Evu is +not dependent on language, and she conveyed the sense of +it to us. She backed out of reach of kisses, and stood with +a small finger upraised; much as a kitten might raise its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +paw in mock protest to its mother. She soon made friends, +however, and proved herself an affectionate kitten, though +wholly unemotional.</p> + +<p>When Tara is naughty, as she is at times, like most people +of only three, a reproachful look brings her spirits down to +the lowest depths of distress. Evu is more inclined to hold +up that funny little warning first finger, and shake it straight +in your face. This, at two and a half, is terrible presumption; +but the brown eyes are so innocent, you cannot be too shocked. +Sometimes, however, the case is worse, and Evu tries to sulk. +She sits down solemnly on the ground, and throws her four +fat limbs about in a dreadful recklessness, supposed to strike +the grown-up offender dumb with awe and penitence. Sometimes +she even tries to put out her lower lip, but it was not +made a suitable shape, for it smiles in spite of itself; and +then there is a sudden spring; and two little arms are round +your neck, and you are being told, if you know how to +listen, what a very tiresome thing it is to feel obliged to +sin. Then, with the comforting sense of irresponsible kittenhood +fully restored, Evu discovers some new diversion, and +you find yourself weakly wishing kittens need not grow +into cats.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>Principalities, Powers, Rulers</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>IT may seem a quick transition from nursery to battle-field; +but rightly to understand this story, it must be remembered +that our nursery is set in the midst of the +battle-field. It is a little sheltered place, where no sound of +war disturbs the babies at their play, and the flowers bloom +like the babies in happy unconsciousness of battles, and +make a garden for us and fill it full of peace; but underlying +the babies' caresses and the sweetness of the flowers +there is always a sense of conflict just over, or soon coming +on. We "let the elastic go" in the nursery. We are happy, +light-hearted children with our children; sometimes we even +wonder at ourselves; and then remember that the happiness of +the moment is a pure, bright gift, not meant to be examined, +but just enjoyed, and we enjoy it as if there were no +battles in the world or any sadness any more.</div> + +<p>And yet this book comes hot from the fight. It is not a +retrospect written in the calm after-years, when the outline +of things has grown indistinct and the sharpness of life is +blurred. There is nothing mellowed about a battle-field. +Even as I write these words, the post comes in and brings +two letters. One tells of a child of twelve in whom the +first faint desires have awakened to lead a different life.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +"She is a Temple girl. Pray that she may have grace to +hold on; and that if she does, we may be guided through +the difficult legal complications. Poor little girl! It makes +one sick to think of her spoiled young life!" The other is +a Tamil letter, about another child who is in earnest, so far +as the writer can ascertain, to escape from the life planned +out for her. She learned about Jesus at school, and responded +in her simple way; but was suddenly taken from school, and +shut up in the back part of the house and not allowed to +learn any more. "Like a little dove fluttering in a cage, +so she seemed to me. But she is a timid dove, and the +house is full of wickedness. How will she hold out against +it? By God's grace I was allowed to see her for one moment +alone. I gave her a little Gospel. She kissed it with her +eyes" (touched her eyes with it), "and hid it in her dress."</p> + +<p>Only a little while ago we traced a bright young +Brahman girl to a certain Temple house, and by means of +one of our workers we made friends with her. The child, a +little widow, was ill, and was sent to the municipal hospital +for medicine. It was there our worker met her, and the +child whispered her story in a few hurried words. She had +been kidnapped (she had not time to tell how), and shut up +in the Temple house, and told she must obey the rules of +the house and it was useless to protest. "If we could help +you," she was asked, "would you like to come to us?" +The child hesitated—the very name "Christian" was abhorrent +to her—but after a moment's doubt she nodded, and then +slipped away. Our worker never saw her again. The conversation +must have been noticed by the child's escort, and +reported. She was sent off to another town, and all +attempts to trace her failed.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">"The Great"</div> +<p>And the god to whom these young child-lives are +dedicated? In South India all the greater symbols of deity +are secluded in the innermost shrine, the heart of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +Temple. In our part of the country the approach to the +shrine is always frequented by Brahman priests, who would +never allow the foreigner near, even if he wished to go +near. "Far, far! remove thyself far!" would be the +immediate command, did any polluting presence presume to +draw near the shrine. There are idols by the roadside, and +these are open to all; but they are lesser creations. The +Great, as the people call that which the Temple contains, is +something apart. It is to these—The Great—that little +children are dedicated; the whole Temple system is worked +in their name.</p> + +<p>"Have you ever seen the god to whom your little ones +would have been given?" is a question we are often asked; +and until a few days ago we always answered, "Never." But +now we have seen it, seen it unexpectedly and unintentionally, +as we waited for an opportunity to talk to the +crowds of people who had assembled to see it being +ceremonially bathed. We cannot account for our being +allowed to see it, except by the fact that the Brahmans +had withdrawn for the moment, and we being, as our +custom is, in Indian dress, were not noticed in the crowd.</p> + +<p>Near the place where the idol was being bathed, with +much pomp by the priests, was a little rest-house, where we +had waited till some child told us all was over. Then we +came out and mingled with the throng, not fearing they +would misunderstand our motive. While we talked with +them, the Brahmans, who had been bathing in the river +after the water had been sanctified by the god, began to +stream up the steps and pass through the crowd, which +opened respectfully and made a wide avenue within itself: +for well the smallest child in that crowd understood that +no touch might defile those Brahmans as they walked, +wringing out their dripping garments and their long +black hair.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> + +<p>How we searched the faces as they passed!—sensual, +cynical, cold faces, faces of utter carelessness, faces full of +pride and aloofness. But there were some so different—earnest +faces, keen faces, faces sensitive and spiritual. Oh, +the pathos of it all! How our hearts went out to these, +whose eager wistfulness marked them out as truly religious +and sincere! How we longed that they should hear the +word, "Come unto Me, and I will give you rest"! They +passed, men young and old, women and children, and very +many widows; and then suddenly two palanquins which +had been standing near were carried down to the awning +where the idol had been bathed; and before we realised +what was happening, they passed us. In the first was the +disk, the symbol of the god; in the second, the god itself.</p> + +<p>"We wrestle not against flesh and blood; but against +principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the +darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high +places"—this was the word that flashed through us then. +That small, insignificant, painted, and bejewelled image, in +its gaudy little palanquin, was not only that. It was the +visible representative of Powers.</p> + +<p>We thought of a merry child in our nursery who was +dedicated at birth to this particular Power. By some glad +chance that little girl was the first to run up to us in welcome +upon our return home in the evening. We thought of her +with thankfulness which cannot be expressed; but the +sorrow of other children bound to this same god swept +over us as we stood gazing after the palanquins, till they +became a coloured blur in the shimmering sunshine. There +was one such, a bright little child of eight, who was in +attendance upon an old blind woman belonging to that +Temple. "Yes," she had answered to our distressed +questions, "she is my adopted daughter. Should I not +have a daughter to wait upon me and succeed me? How<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +can I serve the god, being blind?" We thought of another, +only six, who was to be given to the service "when she +was a suitable age." Her parents were half-proud and +half-ashamed of their intention; and when they knew we +were aware of it, they denied it, and we found it impossible +to do anything.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">"Only as Souls"</div> +<p>We turned to the people about us. They were laughing +and chatting, and the women were showing each other the +pretty glass bangles and necklets they had bought at the +fair. Glorious sunshine filled the world, the whole bright +scene sparkled with life and colour, and all about us was +a "lucid paradise of air." But "only as souls we saw the +folk thereunder," and our spirit was stirred within us. There +is something very solemn in such a scene—something that +must be experienced to be understood. The pitiful triviality, +the sense of tremendous forces at work among these +trivialities; the people, these crowds of people, absorbed in +the interests of the moment—and Eternity so near; all this +and much more presses hard upon the spirit till one understands +the old Hebrew word: "The burden which the +prophet did see."</p> + +<p>Does this sound intolerant and narrow, as if no good +existed outside our own little pale? Surely it is not so. +We are not ignorant of the lofty and the noble contained +in the ancient Hindu books; we are not of those who cannot +recognise any truth or any beauty unless it is labelled with +our label. We know God has not left Himself without +witnesses anywhere. But we know—for the Spirit of Truth +Himself has inspired the description—how desolate is the +condition of those who are without Christ. We dare not +water down the force of such a description till the words mean +practically nothing. We form no hard, presumptuous creed +as to how the God of all the earth will deal with these +masses of mankind who have missed the knowledge of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +Him here; we know He will do right. But we know, with +a knowledge which is burnt into us, how very many of the +units live who compose these masses. We know what they +are missing to-day, through not knowing our blessed +Saviour as a personal, living Friend; and we know what +it means to the thoughtful mind to face an unknown +to-morrow.</p> + +<p>A Hindu in a town in the northern part of our district +lay dying. He knew that death was near, and he was in +great distress. His friends tried to comfort him by reminding +him of the gods, and by quoting stanzas from the +sacred books; but all in vain. Nothing brought him any +comfort, and he cried aloud in his anguish of soul.</p> + +<p>Then to one of the watchers came the remembrance of +how, as a little lad, he had seen a Christian die. In his +desperation at the failure of all attempts to comfort the +dying man, he thought of this one little, far-back memory; +and though he could hardly dare to hope there would be +much help in it, he told it to his friend. The Christian +was Ragland, the missionary. He was living in a little +house outside the town, when a sudden hæmorrhage surprised +him, and he had no time to prepare for death. He +just threw himself upon his bed, and looking up, exclaimed, +"Jesus!" and passed in perfect peace. Outside the window +was a little Hindu boy, unobserved by any in the house. He +had climbed up to the window, and, leaning in, watched all +that happened, heard the one word "Jesus," saw the quick +and peaceful passing; and then slipped away unnoticed.</p> + +<p>The dying Hindu listened as his friend described it to +him. And this little faint ray was the only ray of comfort +that lightened the dark way for him.</p> + +<p>Compare that experience with this:—</p> + +<div class="sidenote">"Oh for a Love——"</div> +<p>The missionary to whom this tale was told by the Hindu +who had tried to console his dying friend, was himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +smitten with dangerous illness, and lay in the dim borderland, +unable to think or frame a prayer. Then like the +melody of long familiar music, without effort, without +strain, came the calming words of the old prayer: "Lighten +our darkness, we beseech Thee, O Lord; and by Thy great +mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night; +for the love of Thine only Son, our Saviour, Jesus Christ."</p> + +<p>Could any two scenes present a more moving contrast? +Could any contrast contain a more persuasive call?</p> + +<p>As we went in and out among the crowd, there were +many who turned away uninterested; but some listened, and +some sat down by the wayside to read aloud, in the sing-song +chant of the East, the little booklets or Gospels we +gave them. We, who are constantly among these people, +feel our need of a fresh touch, as we speak with them +and see them day by day. We need renewed compassions, +renewed earnestness. It is easy to grow accustomed to +things, easy to get cool. We pray not only for those at +home, who as yet are not awake to feel the eloquence and +the piteousness of the great "voiceless silence" of these +lands, but we pray for ourselves with ever deepening +intensity:—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +Oh for a love, for a burning love, like the fervent flame of fire!<br /> +Oh for a love, for a yearning love, that will never, never tire!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Lord, in my need I appeal unto Thee;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Oh, give me my heart's desire!</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>How the Children Come</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>THEY come in many ways through the help of many +friends. We have told before<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> how our first two +babies came to us through two pastors, one in the +north, the other in the south of our district. Since then +many Indian pastors and workers, and several warm-hearted +Christian apothecaries and nurses in Government service, +have become interested; with the result that little children +who must otherwise have perished have been saved.</div> + +<p>One little babe, who has since become one of our very +dearest, was redeemed from Temple life by the wife of a +leading pastor, who was wonderfully brought to the very place +where the little child was waiting for the arrival of the +Temple people. We have seldom known a more definite +leading. "I being in the way, the Lord led me," was surely +true of that friend that day, and of other Indian sisters who +helped her. Later, when she came to stay with us, she told +us about it. "When first I heard of this new work, I was +not in sympathy with it. I even talked against it to others. +But when I saw that little babe, so innocent and helpless, +and so beautiful too, then all my heart went out to it. And +now——" Tears filled her eyes. She could not finish her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +sentence. Nor was there any need; the loving Indian heart +had been won.</p> + +<p>My mother was with us when this baby came; and she +adopted her as her own from the first, and always had the +little basket in which the baby slept put by her bedside. +When the mosquitoes began to be troublesome, the basket +was slipped under her own mosquito net, lest the little pink +blossom should be disturbed. But the baby did not thrive +at first; and the pink, instead of passing into buff, began to +fade into something too near ivory for our peace of mind. +It was then the friend who had saved the little one came +to stay with us; and she proposed taking her and her nurse +out to her country village, in hopes of getting a foster-mother +for her there. So my mother, the pastor's wife, the baby, and +her nurse, went out to the Good News Village, and stayed +in the pastor's hospitable home. The hope which had drawn +them there was not fulfilled; but the memory of that visit +is fresh and fragrant. We read of alienation between Indian +Christians and missionaries. We are told there cannot be +much mutual affection and contact. We often wonder why +it should be so, and are glad we know by experience so little +of the difficulty, that we cannot understand it. We have found +India friendly, and her Christians are our friends. In these +matters each can only speak from personal experience. Ours +has been happy. There may be unkindness and misunderstanding +in India, as in England; but nowhere could there +be warmer love, more tender affection.</p> + +<p>All sorts of people help us in this work of saving the +children. Once it was a convert-schoolboy who saw a widow +with a baby in her arms. Noticing the bright large eyes, +and what he described as the "blossoming countenance of the +child," he got into conversation with the mother, and learned +that she had been greatly tempted by Temple women in the +town, who had admired the baby and wanted to get it. "If<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +I give her to them, she will never be a widow," was the allurement +there. The bitterness of widowhood had entered into +her soul, and poisoned the very mother-love within her; and +yet there was something of it left, for she did not want her +babe to be a widow. The boy, with the leisureliness of the +East, dropped the matter there; and only in a casual fashion, +a week or so later, mentioned in a letter that he had seen +this pretty child, and that probably, the mother would end +in yielding to the temptation to give her to the Temple—"but +it may be by the grace of God that you will be +able to save her." We sent at once to try to find the +mother; but she had wandered off, and no one knew her +home. However, the boy was stirred to prayer, and we +prayed here; and a search through towns and villages +resulted at last in the mother being traced and the child +being saved.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">The Talk on the Verandah</div> +<p>Christian women have helped us. One such, sitting on +her verandah after her morning's work, heard two women +in the adjoining verandah discuss the case of a widow who +had come from Travancore with a bright little baby-girl, +whom she had vowed she would give to one of our largest +temples. The Christian woman had heard of the Dohnavur +nurseries, and at once she longed to save this little child, but +hardly knew how to do it. She feared to tell the two women +she had overheard their conversation, so in the simplicity of +her heart she prayed that the widow might be detained and +kept from offering her gift till our worker, old Dévai, could +come; and she wrote to old Dévai.</p> + +<p>Happily Dévai was at home when the letter reached her; +otherwise days would have been lost, for her wanderings are +many. She went at once, and found the mother most reasonable. +Her idea had been to acquire merit for herself, and an +assured future for her child, by giving it to the gods; but +when the matter was opened to her, she was willing to give<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +it to us instead. In her case, as in the other, our natural +instinct would have been to try to make some provision by +which the mothers could keep their babies; but it would not +have been possible. The cruel law of widowhood had begun +to do its work in them. The Temple people's inducements +would have proved too much for them. The children would +not have been safe.</p> + +<p>Once it was a man-servant who saved a lovely child. He +heard an aside in the market which put him on the track. +The case was very usual. The parents were dead, and the +grandmother was in difficulties. For the parents' sake she +wanted to keep the dear little babe; but she was old, and +had no relatives to whose care she could commit it. Mercifully +we were the first to hear about this little one; for +even as a baby she was so winning that Temple people +would have done much to get her, and the old grandmother +would almost certainly have been beguiled into giving her to +them. How often it has been so! "She will be brought up +carefully according to her caste. All that is beautiful will +be hers, jewels and silk raiment." The hook concealed within +the shining bait is forgotten. The old grandmother feels she +is doing her best for the child, and the little life passes out +of her world.</p> + +<p>"It is a dear little thing, and the man (its grandfather) +seemed really fond of it. He said he would not part with +it; but its parents are both dead, and he did not know +what might happen to it if he died." This from the letter +of a fellow-missionary, who saved the little one and sent +her out to us, is descriptive of many. "Not the measure +of a rape-seed of sleep does she give me. I have done +my best for her since her mother died, but her noise is +most vexatious." This was a father's account of the +matter only a week or two ago. "Have you no women +relations?" we asked him. "Numerous are my womenfolk,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +but they are all cumbered with children: how can they +help me?"</p> + +<div class="sidenote">Not Waifs and Strays</div> +<p>Given these circumstances of difficulty, and the strong +under-pull of Temple influence—is it wonderful that many an +orphaned babe finds her way to the Temple house? For in +the South the child of the kind we are seeking to save is +never offered to us because there is no other place where she is +wanted. Everywhere there are those who are searching for +such children; and each little one saved represents a counter-search, +and somewhere, earnest prayer. The mystery of our +work, as we have said before, is the oftentimes apparent +victory of wrong over right. We are silent before it. God +reigns; God knows. But sometimes the interpositions are +such that our hearts are cheered, and we go on in fresh +courage and hope.</p> + +<p>Among our earliest friends were some of the London +Missionary Society workers of South Travancore. One of +these friends interested her Biblewomen; and when, one +morning, one of these Biblewomen passed a woman with +a child in her arms on the road leading to a well-known +Temple, she was ready to understand the leading, and made +friends with the mother. She found that even then she +was on her way to a Temple house. A few minutes later +and she would not have passed her on the road.</p> + +<p>There was something to account for this directness of +leading. At that time we had our branch nursery at Neyoor, +in South Travancore, ten miles from the place where the +Biblewoman met the mother. On that same morning, +Ponnamal, who was in charge there, felt impelled to go to +the upper room to pray for a little child in danger. She +remained in prayer till the assurance of the answer was +given, and then returned to her work. That evening a bandy +drove up to the nursery, and she saw the explanation of +the pressure and the answer to the prayer. A little child<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +was lifted out of the bandy, and laid in her arms. She stood +with her nurses about her, and together they worshipped +God.</p> + +<p>This prayer-pressure has been often our experience when +special help is needed to effect the salvation of some little +unknown child. It was our Prayer-day, July 6, 1907. Three +of us were burdened with a burden that could not be lightened +till we met and prayed for a child in peril. We had no +knowledge of any special child, though, of course, we +knew of many in danger. When we prayed for the +many, the impression came the more strongly that we +were meant to concentrate upon one. Who, or where, we +did not know.</p> + +<p>Five days later, a letter reached us from a friend in the +Wesleyan Mission, working in a city five hundred miles +distant. The letter was written on the 8th:—</p> + +<p>"On the morning of the 6th, a woman who knows our Biblewomen +well, told them of a little Brahman baby in great +danger; so J. and two others went at once and spent the +greater part of the morning trying to save the child. It was +in the house of a so-called Temple woman, who had adopted +it, and she had taken every care of it. For some reason she +wanted to go away, and could not take it with her. Two or +three women of her own kind were there and wanted it. One +had money in her hand for it. But J. had already got the +baby into her arms, and reasoned and persuaded until the +woman at last consented. They at once brought it here. +Had the friendly woman not told J., the baby would now be +in the hands of the second Temple woman. I visited the +woman afterwards. She had two grown girls in the room +with her, the elder such a sweet girl. She told me openly +it was all according to custom, and that God had arranged +their lives on those lines, and they could not do otherwise. +It is terribly sad, and such houses abound."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">"Father, we adore Thee"</div> +<p>Happenings of this sort—if the word "happen" is not +irreverent in such a connection—have a curiously quieting +effect upon us. We are very happy; but there is a feeling +of awe which finds expression in words which, at first reading, +may not sound appropriate; but we write for those who +will understand:—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +Oh, fix Thy chair of grace, that all my powers<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">May also fix their reverence ;. . .</span><br /> +Scatter, or bind, or bend them all to Thee!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though elements change and Heaven move,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let not Thy higher court remove,</span><br /> +But keep a standing Majesty in me.<br /></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> "Overweights of Joy."</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>Others</h3> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-11.jpg" width="550" height="386" alt="STURDY AND STOLID, AND LITTLE VEERA —whose story, however, is different." title="" /> +<span class="caption">STURDY AND STOLID, AND LITTLE VEERA<br />—whose story, however, is different.<br /><br /></span> +</div> + +<div class='cap'>WE have some children who were not in Temple +danger, but who could not have grown up good if +we had not taken them. "If peril to the soul +is of importance," wrote the pastor who sent us two little +girls, "then it is important you should take them": so we +took them. These little ones were in "peril to the soul," +because their nominal Christian mother had, after her +husband's death, married a Hindu, against the rules of her +religion and his. The children were under the worst influence; +and both were winning little things, who might +have drifted anywhere. We have found it impossible to +refuse such little ones, even though danger of the Temple +kind may not be probable.</div> + +<p>Such a child, for example, is the little girl the +Moslem is ready to adopt and convert to the faith. Our +first redeemed from this captivity (literally slavery under +the name of adoption) was a cheerful little person of six, +with the sturdy air the camera caught, and a manner all +her own. An American missionary in an adjoining district +heard of her and her little sister, and wrote to know if we +would take them if he could save them. We could not +say No; so he tried, and succeeded in getting the elder<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +child; the little one had been already "adopted," and he +could not get her. "The whole affair was the most +astonishing thing I have ever seen in India," he wrote when +he sent the little girl. The child upon arrival made friends +with another, and confided to her in a burst of confidence: +"Ah, she was a jewel, my own little sister—not like me, +not dark of skin, but 'fair' and tender; and the great +man in the turban saw her and desired her, and he took +her away; and she cried and cried and cried, because she +was only such a very little girl."</p> + +<p>"The business was being discussed out in the open +street"—the writer was another missionary—"the pastor +heard of it from a Christian who was passing, and saw the +cluster of Muhammadans round the mother and her children. +It was touch-and-go with the child." These two, Sturdy and +Stolid, side by side in the photograph, are in all ways quite +unlike the typical Temple child; but the danger from which +they were delivered is as real, and perhaps in its way as +grave.</p> + +<div class="sidenote">We know what her Heart is Saying</div> +<p>One of the sweetest of our little girls, a child with a +spiritual expression which strikes all who see her, came to +us through a young catechist who heard of her and +persuaded her people to let her come to Dohnavur. She +is an orphan; and being "fair" and very gentle, needed +a mother's care. Her nearest relatives had families of +their own, and were not anxious for this addition to their +already numerous daughters; and the little girl, feeling +herself unwanted, was fretting sadly. Then an offer came +to the relations—not made expressly in words, but implied—by +which they would be relieved of the responsibility of +the little niece's future. All would not have been straight +for the child, however, and they hesitated. The temptation +was great; and in the end it is probable they would have +yielded, had not the catechist heard of it, and influenced<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +them to turn from temptation. It was the evening of our +Prayer-day when the little Pearl came; and when we saw +the sweet little face, with the wistful, questioning eyes like +the eyes of a little frightened dog taken away alone among +strangers, and when we heard the story, and knew what +the child's fate might have been, then we welcomed her as +another Prayer-day gift. We do not look for gratitude +in this work; who does? But sometimes it comes of itself; +and the grateful love of a child, like the grateful love of a +little affectionate animal lifted out of its terror and comforted, +is something sweet and tender and very good to +know. The Pearl says little; but her soft brown eyes look +up into ours with a trustful expression of peaceful +happiness; and as she slips her little hand into ours and gives +it a tight squeeze, we know what her heart is saying, +and we are content.</p> + +<p>Two more of these "others" are the two in the photograph +who are playing a pebble game. Their parents died leaving +them in the care of an aunt, a perfectly heartless woman +whose record was not of the best. She starved the children, +though she was not poor; and then punished them severely +when, faint with hunger, they took food from a kindly +woman of another caste. Finally she gave them to a +neighbour, telling her to dispose of them as she liked.</p> + +<p>About this time our head worker, Ponnamal, was travelling +in search of a child of whom we had heard in a town near +Palamcottah. She could not find the child, and, tired and +discouraged, turned into the large Church Missionary Society +hall, where a meeting was being held to welcome our new +Bishop. As Ponnamal was late, she sat at the back, and +could not hear what was going on; so she gave herself up +to prayer for the little child whom she had not found, +and asked that her three days' journey might not be all +in vain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 351px;"> +<img src="images/illus-12.jpg" width="351" height="500" alt="PEBBLES." title="" /> +<span class="caption">PEBBLES.</span> +</div> + +<p>As she prayed in silence thus, another woman came in +and sat down at the back near Ponnamal. When Ponnamal +looked up, she saw it was a friend she had not met for years. +She began to tell her about her search for the child; and +this led on to telling about the children in general, and the +work we were trying to do. The other had known nothing +of it all before; but as she listened, a light broke on her +face, and she eagerly told Ponnamal how that same morning +she had come across a Hindu woman in charge of two little +girls. The Tamils when they meet, however casually, have +a useful habit of exchanging confidences. The woman had +told Ponnamal's friend what her errand was. Ponnamal's +talk about children in danger recalled the conversation of +the morning. In a few hours more Ponnamal was upon the +track of the Hindu woman and her two little charges. It +ended in the two little girls being saved.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>Old Dévai</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>SHE has been called "Old Dévai" ever since we knew her, +twelve years ago; and she is still active in mind and +body. "As I was then, even so is my strength now +for war, both to go out and to come in," she would tell you +with a courageous toss of the old grey head. Her spirit at +least is untired.</div> + +<p>We knew her first as a woman of character. One Sunday, +in our Tamil church, a sermon was preached upon the love +of the Father as compared with the love of the world. That +Sunday Dévai went home and acted upon the teaching in +such fashion that she had to suffer from the scourge of the +tongue in her own particular world. But she went on her +way, unmoved by adverse criticism. Some years later, when +we were in perplexity as to how to set about our search +for children in danger of being given to temples, old Dévai +offered to help. She was peculiarly suitable, both in age +and in position, for this most delicate work; and we accepted +her offer with thanksgiving. Since then she has travelled +far, and followed many a clue discovered in strange ways +and in strange company. Perhaps no one in South India +knows as much as Dévai knows about the secret system by +which the Temple altars are supplied with little living victims;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +but she has no idea of how to put her knowledge into shape +and express it in paragraph form. We learn most from her +when she least knows she is saying anything interesting.</p> + +<p>When first we began the work, our great difficulty was, +as it is still, to get upon the track of the children before the +Temple women heard of them. Once they were known to +be available, Temple scouts appeared mysteriously alert; +and it is doubly difficult to get a little child after negotiations +have been opened with the subtle Temple scout. How often +old Dévai has come to us sick at heart after a long, fruitless +search and effort to save some little child who, perhaps, +only an hour before her arrival was carried off in triumph +by the Temple people! "I pursued after the bandy, and I +saw it in the distance; but swiftly went their bullocks, and +I could not overtake it. At last they stopped to rest, and +I came to where they were. But they smiled at me and +said: 'Did you ever hear of such a thing as you ask in +foolishness? Is it the custom to give up a child, once it is +ours?'" Sometimes a new story is invented on the spot. +"Did you not know it was my sister's child; and I, her only +sister, having no child of my own, have adopted this one as +my own? Would you ask me to give up my own child, +the apple of my eye?" Oftener, however, the clue fails, and +all Dévai knows is that the little one is nowhere to be +found. Once she traced it straight to a Temple house, won +her way in, and pleaded with tears, offering all compensation +for expenses incurred (travelling and other) if only the +Temple woman would let her take the child. But no: "If it +dies, that matters little; but disgrace is not to be contemplated." +When all else fails, we earnestly ask that the little one in +danger may be taken quickly out of that polluted atmosphere +up into purer air; and it is startling to note how +solemnly the answer to that prayer has come in very many +instances.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">The Knock at Night</div> +<p>The clue for which we are always on the watch is often +like a fine silk thread leading down into dark places where +we cannot see it, can hardly feel it; it is so thin a thread. +Sometimes, when we thought we held it securely, we have lost +it in the dark.</p> + +<p>Sometimes it seems as if the Evil One, whose interest +in these little ones may be greater than we know, lays a +false clue across our path, and bewilders us by causing us +to spend time and strength in what appears to be a wholly +useless fashion. Once old Dévai was lured far out of +our own district in search of two children who did not even +exist. She had taken all precautions to verify the information +given, but a false address had baffled her; and we can +only conclude that, for some reason unknown to us, but +well known to those whom we oppose, they were permitted +on that occasion to gain an advantage over us. We +made it a rule, after that will-of-the-wisp experience, that +any address out of our own district must be verified; and +that the nearest missionary thereto, or responsible Indian +Christian, must be approached, before further steps are +taken. This rule has saved many a fruitless journey; but +also we cannot help knowing it has sometimes occasioned +delays which have had sad results. For distances are great +in India. Dévai herself lives two days' journey from us, +and her address is uncertain, as she sets off at a moment's +notice for any place where she has reason to think a child +in danger may be saved. Then, too, missionaries and responsible +Indian Christians are not everywhere. So that sometimes +it is a case of choosing the lesser of two evils, and +choosing immediately.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/illus-13.jpg" width="350" height="500" alt="LATHA (FIREFLY) BLOWING BUBBLES." title="" /> +<span class="caption">LATHA (FIREFLY) BLOWING BUBBLES.</span> +</div> + +<p>Once in the night a knock came to Dévai's door. A man +stood outside, a Hindu known to her. "A little girl has +just been taken to the Temple of A., where the great festival +is being held. If you go at once you may perhaps get her."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +The place named was out of our jurisdiction; but in such +cases Dévai knows rules are only made to be broken. Off +she went on foot, got a bandy <i>en route</i>, reached the town +before the festival was over, found the house to which she +had been directed—a little shut-up house, doors and windows +all closed—managed, how we never knew, to get in, found a +young woman, a Temple woman from Travancore, with a little +child asleep on the mat beside her, persuaded her to slip +out of the house with the child without wakening anyone, +crept out of the town and fled away into the night, thankful +for the blessed covering darkness. The child was being +kept in that house till the Temple woman to whom she +was to be given produced the stipulated "Joy-gift," after +which she would become Temple property. Some delay in +its being given had caused that night's retention in the little +shut-up house. The child, a most lovable little girl, had been +kidnapped and disguised; and the matter was so skilfully +managed, that we have never been able to discover even the +name of her own town. We only know she must have been +well brought up, for she was from the first a refined little +thing with very dainty ways. She and her little special +friend are sitting on the steps looking at Latha (Firefly), who +is blowing bubbles. The other little one has a similar but +different history. Her father brought her to us himself, +fearing lest she should be kidnapped by one related to her +who much wanted to have her. "I, being a man, cannot be +always with the child," he said, "and I fear for her."</p> + +<div class="sidenote">"It"</div> +<p>On another occasion the clue was found through Dévai's +happening to overhear the conversation of two men in a +wood in the early morning. One said to the other something +about someone having taken "It" somewhere; and Dévai, +whose scent is keen where little "Its" are concerned, made +friends with the men, and got the information she wanted +from them. Careful work resulted in a little child's salvation;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +but Dévai hardly dared believe it safe until she reached +Dohnavur. When that occurred we were all at church; for +special services were being held in week-day evenings, and +old Dévai had to possess her soul in patience till we came +out of church. Then there was a rush round to the +nursery, and an eager showing of the "It." I shall never +forget the pang of disappointment and apprehension. Several +little ones had been sent to us who could not possibly live; +and the nurses had got overborne, and we dreaded another +strain for them. It was a tiny thing, three pounds and +three-quarters of pale brown skin and bone. Its face was +a criss-cross of wrinkles, and it looked any age. But "Man +looketh upon the outward appearance" would have been +assuredly quoted to us, regardless of context, had we ventured +upon a remark to old Dévai, who poured forth the +story of its salvation in vivid sentences. Next evening the +old grannie of the compound told us the baby could not +live till morning. She laid it on a mat and regarded it +critically, felt its pulses (both wrists), examined minutely +its eyes and the bridge of its nose: "No, not till morning. +Better have the grave prepared, for early morning will be +an inconvenient hour for digging." Others confirmed her +diagnosis, and sorrowfully the order was given and the +grave was dug.</p> + +<p>But the baby lived till morning; and though for two years +it needed a nurse to itself, and over and over again all but +left us, this baby has grown one of our healthiest; and now +when old Dévai comes to see us she looks at it, and then +to Heaven, and sighs with gratitude.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>Failures?</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>BUT sometimes old Dévai brings us little ones who do +not come to stay. Failures, the world would call +them. Twice lately this has happened, and each +time unexpectedly; for the babies had stories which seemed +to imply a promise of future usefulness. Surely such a +deliverance must have been wrought for something special, +we say to ourselves, and refuse to fear.</div> + +<p>One dear little fat "fair" baby was brought to us as a +surprise, for we had not heard of her. It had seemed so +improbable that Dévai could get her, that she had not written +to us to ask us to pray her through the battle, as she +usually does. The sound of the bullock-bells' jingle one +moonlight night woke us to welcome the baby. She had +travelled fifty miles in the shaky bullock-cart, and she was +only a few days old; but she seemed healthy, and we had +no fears. "Ah, the Lord our God gave her to me, or never +could I have got her! Her mother had determined to give +her to the Temple; and when I went to persuade her, she +hid the baby in an earthen vessel lest my eyes should see +her. But earthen pots cannot hide from the eyes of the +Lord. And here she is!" The details, fished out of Dévai +by dint of many questions, made it clear that in very truth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +the Lord, to whom all souls belong, had worked on behalf +of this little one; moving even Hindu hearts, as His brave +old servant pleaded, making it possible to break through +caste and custom, those prison walls of most cruel convention, +till even the Hindus said: "Let the Christian +have the babe!" We do not know why she was taken. +She never seemed to sicken, but just left us; perhaps she was +needed somewhere else, and Dohnavur was the way there.</p> + +<p>The other meant even more to us, for she was our first +from Benares, the heart of this great Hinduism; and her +very presence seemed such a splendid pledge of ultimate +victory.</p> + +<p>This little one was saved through a friend, a Wesleyan +missionary, who had interested her Indian workers in the +children. The baby's mother was a pilgrim from Benares, +and her baby had been born in the South. A Temple woman +had seen it and was eager to get it, for it was a child of +promise. Our friend's worker heard of this, and interposed. +The mother consented to give her baby to us. It was not +a case in which we dare have persuaded her to keep it; for +such babies are greatly coveted, and the mother was already +predisposed to give her child to the gods.</p> + +<p>When we heard of this little one, old Dévai was with us. +She had only just arrived after a journey of two days with +a little girl, but she knew the perils of delay too well to +risk them now. "Let me go! I will have some coffee, and +immediately start!" So off she went for five more days of +wearisome bullock-cart and train. But her face beamed +when she returned and laid a six-weeks-old baby in our +arms—a baby fair to look upon. We gathered round her +at once, and she lay and smiled at us all. Hardly ever have +we had so sweet a babe. But the smiling little mouth was +too pale a pink, and the beautiful eyes were too bright. +She had only been with us a month when we were startled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +by the other-world look on the baby's face. We had seen +it before; we recognised it, and our hearts sank within us. +That evening, as she lay in her white cradle, the waxy hands +folded in an unchildlike calm, she looked as if the angel of +Death had passed her as she slept, and touched her as he +passed.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Passion-flowers</div> +<p>She stayed with us for another month, and was nursed +day and night till more and more she became endeared to +us; and then once more we heard the word that cannot be +refused, and we let her go. We laid passion-flowers about +her as she lay asleep. The smile that had left her little +face had come back now. "She came with a smile, and she +went with a smile," said one who loved her dearly; and the +flowers of mystery and glory spoke to us, as we stood and +looked. "Who for the joy that was set before Him ;. . . +endured." The scent of the violet passion-flower will always +carry its message to us. "Let us be worthy of the grief +God sends."</p> + +<p>And oh that such experiences may make us more earnest, +more self-less in our service for these little ones! Someone +has expressed this thought very tenderly and simply:—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +Because of one small low-laid head, all crowned<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With golden hair,</span><br /> +For evermore all fair young brows to me<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A halo wear.</span><br /> +I kiss them reverently. Alas, I know<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The pain I bear!</span><br /> +<br /> +Because of dear but close-shut holy eyes<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Of heaven's own blue,</span><br /> +All little eyes do fill my own with tears,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Whate'er their hue.</span><br /> +And, motherly, I gaze their innocent,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 3em;">Clear depths into.</span><br /> +<br /> +Because of little pallid lips, which once<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">My name did call,</span><br /> +No childish voice in vain appeal upon<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">My ears doth fall.</span><br /> +I count it all my joy their joys to share,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And sorrows small.</span><br /> +<br /> +Because of little dimpled hands<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Which folded lie,</span><br /> +All little hands henceforth to me do have<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A pleading cry.</span><br /> +I clasp them, as they were small wandering birds,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Lured home to fly.</span><br /> +<br /> +Because of little death-cold feet, for earth's<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Rough roads unmeet,</span><br /> +I'd journey leagues to save from sin and harm<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Such little feet.</span><br /> +And count the lowliest service done for them<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">So sacred—sweet.</span><br /> +</div> +<div class="sidenote">"Until He find it"</div> +<p>But grief is almost too poignant a word for what is so +stingless as this. And yet God the Father, who gives the +love, understands and knows how much may lie behind two +words and two dates. "Given ;. . . Taken ;. . ." Only indeed +we do bless Him when the cup holds no bitterness of fear +or of regret. There is nothing ever to fear for the little +folded lambs. If only the veil of blinding sense might drop +from our eyes when the door opens to our cherished +little children, should we have the heart to toil so hard +to keep that bright door shut? Would it not seem +almost selfish to try? But the case is different when +the child is not lifted lovingly to fair lands out of sight, but +snatched back, dragged back down into the darkness from +which we had hoped it had escaped. This work for the +children, which seems so strangely full of trial of its own<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +(as it is surely still more full of its own particular joy), has +held this bitterness for us, and yet the bitter has changed +to sweet; and even now in our "twilight of short knowledge" +we can understand a little, and where we cannot we are +content to wait.</p> + +<p>Four years ago, after much correspondence and effort, a +little girl was saved from Temple service in connection with +a famous Temple of the South from which few have ever +been saved. She had been dedicated by her father, and her +mother had consented. Dévai got a paper signed by them +giving her up to us instead. But shortly after she left the +town, the father regretted the step he had taken, and +followed Dévai, unknown to her. Alas, the child had not +been with us an hour before she was carried off.</p> + +<p>For two years we heard nothing of her. Old Dévai, who +was broken-hearted about the matter, tried to find what had +been done with her, but it was kept secret. She almost gave +up in despair.</p> + +<p>At last information reached her that the child was in the +same town; and that her father having died of cholera, the +mother and another little daughter were in a certain house +well known to her. She went immediately and found the +older child had not been given to the gods. Something of +her pleadings had lingered in the father's memory, and he +had refused to give her up. But the mother was otherwise +minded, and intended to give both children to the Temple. +Dévai had been guided to go at the critical time of decision. +The mother was persuaded, and Dévai returned with two +sheaves instead of one—and even that one she had hardly +dared to expect. Once more we were called to hold our gifts +with light hands. The younger of the welcome little two +was one of ten who died during an epidemic at Neyoor. +The elder one is with us still—a bright, intelligent child.</p> + +<p>The only other one whom we have been compelled to give<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +up in this most hurting way was saved through friends on +the hills, who, before they sent the little child to us, believed +all safe as to claims upon her afterwards. She was a pretty +child of five, and we grew to love her very much; for her +ways were sweet and gentle and very affectionate. Lala, +Lola, and Leela were a dear little trio, all about the same +age, and all rather specially interesting children.</p> + +<p>But the father gave trouble. He was not a good man, +and we knew it was not love for his little daughter which +prompted his action. He demanded her back, and our friends +had to telegraph to us to send her home. It was not an easy +thing to do; and we packed her little belongings feeling as if +we were moving blindly in a grievous dream, out of which +we must surely awaken.</p> + +<p>There was some delay about a bandy, but at last it was +ready and standing at the door. We lifted the little girl into +it, put a doll and a packet of sweets in her hands, and gave +our last charges to those who were taking her up to the hills, +workers upon whom we could depend to do anything that +could yet be done to win her back again. Then the bandy +drove away.</p> + +<p>But we went back to our room and asked for a great and +good thing to be done. We thought of little Lala, with her +gentle nature which had so soon responded to loving influence, +and we knew her very gentleness would be her danger now; +for how could such a little child, naturally so yielding in disposition, +withstand the call that would come, and the pressure +that had broken far stronger wills? So we asked that she +might either be returned to us soon or taken away from the +evil to come. A week passed and our workers returned without +her; they evidently felt the case quite hopeless. But the +next letter we had from our friends told us the child was safe.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Carried by the Angels</div> +<p>She had left us in perfect health, but pneumonia set in +upon her return to the colder air of the hills. She had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +only a few days ill, and died very suddenly—died without +anyone near her to comfort her with soothing words about +the One to whom she was going. Even in the gladness +that she was safe now, there was the pitiful thought +of her loneliness through the dark valley; and we seemed +to see the little wistful face, and felt she would be so +frightened and shy and bewildered; and we longed to know +something about those last hours. But one of the heathen +women who had been about her at the last told what she +knew, and our friends wrote what they heard. "She said +she was Jesus' child, and did not seem afraid. And she said +that she saw three Shining Ones come into the room where +she was lying, and she was comforted." Oh, need we ever +fear? Little Lala had been with us for so short a time that +we had not been able to teach her much; and so far as any +of us know, she had heard nothing of the ministry of angels. +We had hardly dared to hope she understood enough about +our Lord Himself to rest her little heart upon Him. But we +do not know everything. Little innocent child that she was, +she was carried by the angels from the evil to come.</p> + +<p>Old Dévai keeps a brave heart. When she comes to see +us, she cheers herself by nursing the cheerful little people she +brought to us, small and wailing and not very hopeful. She +is full of reminiscences on these occasions. "Ah," she will +say, addressing an astonished two-year-old, "the devil and +all his imps fought for you, my child!" This is unfamiliar +language to the baby; but Dévai knows nothing of our +modern ideas of education, and considers crude fact advisable +at any age. "Yes, he fought for you, my child. I was sitting +on the verandah of the house wherein you lay, and I was +preaching the Gospel of the grace of God to the women, when +five devils appeared. Yea, five were they, one older and four +younger. Men were they in outward shape, but within them +were the devils. I had nearly persuaded the women to let me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +have you, my child; and till they fully consented, I was filling +up the interval with speech, for no man shall shut my mouth. +And the women listened well, and my heart burned within +me—for it was life to me to see them listening—when lo! +those devils came—yea, five, one older and four younger—sent +by their master to confound me. And they rose up against +me and turned me out, and told the women folk not to +listen; and you—I should never get you, said they; and so +it appeared, for with such is might, and their master waxes +furious when he knows his time is short. But the Lord on +high is mightier than a million million devils, and what are +five to Him? He rose up for me against them and discomfited +them"—Dévai does not go into secular particulars—"and +so you were delivered from the mouth of the lion, my child!"</p> + +<p>We are not anxious that our babies should know too +much ancient history. Enough for them that they are in +the fold—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +I am Jesus' little lamb,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Happy all day long I am;</span><br /> +He will keep me safe from harm,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For I'm His lamb—</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>is enough theology for two-year-olds; but Dévai's visits are +not so frequent as to make a deep impression, and the baby +thus addressed, after a long and unsympathetic stare, usually +scrambles off her knee and returns unscathed to her own +world.</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>God Heard: God Answered</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>OLD Dévai, with her vivid conversation about the one old +devil and four younger, does not suggest a conciliatory +attitude towards the people of her land. And it may +be possible so to misinterpret the spirit of this book as to see +in it only something unappreciative and therefore unkind. So +it shall now be written down in sincerity and earnestness that +nothing of the sort is intended. The thing we fight is not +India or Indian, in essence or development. It is something +alien to the old life of the people. It is not allowed in the +Védas (ancient sacred books). It is like a parasite which has +settled upon the bough of some noble forest-tree—on it, but +not of it. The parasite has gripped the bough with strong +and interlacing roots; but it is not the bough.</div> + +<p>We think of the real India as we see it in the thinker—the +seeker after the unknown God, with his wistful eyes. "The +Lord beholding him loved him," and we cannot help loving as +we look. And there is the Indian woman hidden away from +the noise of crowds, patient in her motherhood, loyal to the +light she has. We see the spirit of the old land there; and it +wins us and holds us, and makes it a joy to be here to live for +India.</p> + +<p>The true India is sensitive and very gentle. There is a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +wisdom in its ways, none the less wise because it is not the +wisdom of the West. This spirit which traffics in children is +callous and fierce as a ravening beast; and its wisdom descendeth +not from above, but is earthly, sensual, devilish. . . . +And this spirit, alien to the land, has settled upon it, and made +itself at home in it, and so become a part of it that nothing +but the touch of God will ever get it out. We want that +touch of God: "Touch the mountains, and they shall smoke." +That is why we write.</p> + +<p>For we write for those who believe in prayer—not in the +emasculated modern sense, but in the old Hebrew sense, deep +as the other is shallow. We believe there is some connection +between knowing and caring and praying, and what happens +afterwards. Otherwise we should leave the darkness to cover +the things that belong to the dark. We should be for ever +dumb about them, if it were not that we know an evil +covered up is not an evil conquered. So we do the thing +from which we shrink with strong recoil; we stand on the +edge of the pit, and look down and tell what we have seen, +urged by the longing within us that the Christians of England +should pray.</p> + +<p>"Only pray?" does someone ask? Prayer of the sort we +mean never stops with praying. "Whatsoever He saith unto +you, do it," is the prayer's solemn afterword; but the prayer +we ask is no trifle. Lines from an American poet upon what +it costs to make true poetry, come with suggestion here:—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +Deem not the framing of a deathless lay<br /> +The pastime of a drowsy summer day.<br /> +But gather all thy powers, and wreck them on the verse<br /> +That thou dost weave. . . .<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The secret wouldst thou know</span><br /> +To touch the heart or fire the blood at will?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let thine eyes overflow,</span><br /> +Let thy lips quiver with the passionate thrill.<br /></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote">"And call. . . . So will I hear thee"</div> +<p>"Arise, cry out in the night; in the beginning of the night +watches pour out thine heart like water before the Lord; lift +up thine hands towards Him for the life of thy young +children!"</p> + +<p>The story of the children is the story of answered prayer. +If any of us were tempted to doubt whether, after all, prayer is +a genuine transaction, and answers to prayer no figment of +the imagination—but something as real as the tangible things +about us—we have only to look at some of our children. It +would require more faith to believe that what we call the +Answer came by chance or by the action of some unintelligible +combination of controlling influences, than to accept the +statement in its simplicity—God heard: God answered.</p> + +<p>In October, 1908, we were told of two children whose mother +had recently died. They were with their father in a town +some distance from Dohnavur; but the source from which our +information came was so unreliable that we hardly knew +whether to believe it, and we prayed rather a tentative +prayer: "If the children exist, save them." For three months +we heard nothing; then a rumour drifted across to us that +the elder of the two had died in a Temple house. The +younger, six months old, was still with her father. On +Christmas Eve our informant arrived in the compound with +his usual unexpectedness. The father was near, but would +not come nearer because the following day being Friday (a +day of ill-omen), he did not wish to discuss matters concerning +the child; he would come on Saturday. On Saturday he +came, carrying a dear little babe with brilliant eyes. She +almost sprang from him into our arms, and we saw she was +mad with thirst. She was fed and put to sleep, and hardly +daring yet to rejoice (for the matter was not settled with the +father), we took him aside and discussed the case with him. +There were difficulties. A Temple woman had offered a +large sum for the child, and had also promised to bequeath<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +her property to her. He had heard, however, that we had +little children who had all but been given to Temples, +and he had come to reconnoitre rather than to decide.</p> +<div class="sidenote">"Though it tarry, wait for it . . .</div> +<p>The position was explained to him. But the Temple meant +to him everything that was worshipful. How could anything +that was wrong be sanctioned by the gods? The child's mother +had been a devout Hindu; and as we went deeper and deeper +into things with him, it was evident he became more and more +reluctant to leave the little one with us. "Her mother would +have felt it shame and eternal dishonour." We were in the +little prayer-room, a flowery little summer-house in the garden, +when this talk took place. On either side are the nurseries, and +playing on the wide verandahs were happy, healthy babes; their +merry shouts filled the spaces in the conversation. Sometimes +a little toddling thing would find her way across to the prayer-room, +and break in upon the talk with affectionate caresses. +To our eyes everything looked so happy, so incomparably +better than anything the Temple house could offer, that it +was difficult to adjust one's mental vision so as to understand +that of the Hindu beside us, to whose thought all the happiness +was as nothing, because these babes would be brought up +without caste. In the Temple house caste is kept most carefully. +If a Temple woman breaks the rules of her community +she is out-casted, excommunicated. "You do not keep caste! +you do not keep caste!" the father repeated over and over +again in utter dismay. It was nothing to him that the babes +were well and strong, and as happy as the day was long; +nothing to him that cleanliness reigned, so far as constant +supervision could ensure it, through every corner of the compound. +We did not profess to keep caste; we welcomed every +little child in danger of being given to Temples, irrespective +altogether of her caste. All castes were welcome to us, for all +were dear to our Lord. This was beyond him; and he declared he +would never have brought his child to us, had he understood it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +before. "Let her die rather! There is no disgrace in death." +As he talked and expounded his views, he argued himself +further and further away from us in spirit, until he became +disgusted with himself for ever having considered giving the +baby to us. All this time the baby lay asleep; and as we +looked at the little face and noted the "mother-want," the +appealing expression of pitiful weariness even in sleep, it was +all we could do to turn away and face the almost inevitable +result of the conversation. Once the father, a splendid looking +man, tall and dignified, rose and stood erect in sudden +indignation. "Where is the babe? I will take her away and +do as I will with her. She is my child!" We persuaded him +to wait awhile as she was asleep, and we went away to pray. +Together we waited upon God, whose touch turns hard rocks +into standing water, and flint-stone into a springing well, +beseeching Him to deal with that father's heart, and make it +melt and yield. And as we waited it seemed as if an answer +of peace were distinctly given to us, and we rose from our +knees at rest. But just at that moment the father went to +where his baby slept in her cradle, and he took her up and +walked away in a white heat of wrath.</p> + +<p>The little one was in an exhausted condition, for she had +not had suitable food for at least three days. It was the time +of our land-winds, which are raw and cold to South Indian +people; and it seemed that the answer of peace must mean +peace after death of cold and starvation. It would soon be +over, we knew; twenty-four hours, more or less, and those +great wistful eyes would close, and the last cry would be cried. +But even twenty-four hours seemed long to think of a +child in distress, and her being so little did not make it easier +to think of her dying like that. So on Sunday morning I +shut myself up in my room asking for quick relief for her, or—but +this seemed almost asking too much—that she might be +given back to us. And as I prayed, a knock came at the door,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +and a voice called joyously, "Oh, Amma! Amma! Come! The +father stands outside the church; he has brought the baby +back!"</p> + +<p>But the child was almost in collapse. Without a word he +dropped the cold, limp little body into our arms, and prostrated +himself till his forehead touched the dust. We had not time +to think of him, we hardly noted his extraordinary submission, +for all our thought was for the babe. There was no pulse to +be felt, only those far too brilliant eyes looked alive. We +worked with restoratives for hours, and at last the little limbs +warmed and the pulse came back. But it was a bounding, +unnatural pulse, and the restlessness which supervened confirmed +the tale of the brilliant eyes—the little babe had been +drugged.</p> + +<p>From that day on till our Prayer-day, January 6th, it +was one long, unremitting fight with death. We wrote to +our medical comrade in Neyoor, and described the symptoms, +which were all bad. He could give us little hope. Gradually +the brilliance passed from the eyes, and they became what +the Tamils call "dead." The film formed after which none +of us had ever seen recovery. Then we gathered round the +little cot in the room we call Tranquillity, and we gave the +babe her Christian name Vimala, the Spotless One; for we +thought that very soon she would be without spot and +blameless, another little innocent in that happy band of +innocents who see His Face.</p> + +<p>On the evening of the 5th, friends of our own Mission +who were with us seemed to lay hold for the life of the +child with such fresh earnestness and faith, that we ourselves +were strengthened. Next morning we believed we +saw a change in the little deathlike face, and that evening +we were sure the child's life was coming back to her.</p> +<div class="sidenote">". . .Because it will surely come"</div> +<p>It was not till then we thought of the father, who, after +signing a paper made out for him by our pastor, who is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +always ready to help us, had returned to his own town. +When we heard all that had occurred we saw how our God +had worked for us. It was not fear of his baby's death that +had moved the man to return to us. "What is the death +of a babe? Let her die across my shoulders!" He was not +afraid of the law. After all persuasions had failed, we had +tried threats: the thing he purposed to do was illegal. The +Collector (chief magistrate) would do justice. "What care +I for your Collector? How can he find me if I choose to lose +myself? How can you prove anything against me?" And +in that he spoke the truth. There are ways by which the +intention of the law concerning little children can be most +easily and successfully circumvented. Our pleadings had +not touched him. "Is she not my child? Was her mother +not my wife? Who has the right to come between this +child of mine and me her father?" And so saying +he had departed without the slightest intention of coming +back again. But a Power with which he did not reckon had +him in sight; and a Hand was laid upon him, and it bent +him like a reed. We hope some ray of a purer light than +he had ever experienced found its way into his darkened +soul, and revealed to him the sin of his intention. But we +only know that he left his child and went back to his own +town. God had heard: God had answered.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>To what Purpose?</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>AMONG the closest of our little children's friends is +one whose name I may not give, lest her work +should be hindered; for in this work of saving the +little ones, though we have the sympathy of many, we +naturally have to meet the covert opposition of very many +more, and it is not well to give too explicit information as +to the centres of supply. This dear friend's help has been +invaluable. From the first she has stood by us, interesting +her friends, Indian and English, in the children, and stirring +them into practical co-operation. Then, when the babies +have been saved and had to be cared for and sent off, she +made nothing of the trouble, and above all she has never +been discouraged. Sometimes things have been difficult. +Some have doubted, and many have criticised, and even +the kindest have lost heart. This friend has never lost +heart.</div> + +<p>For not all the chapters of the Temple children's story +can be written down and printed for everyone to read. +We think of the unwritten chapters, and remember how +often when the pressure was greatest the thought of that +undiscouraged comrade has been strength and inspiration. +No one except those who, in weakness and inexperience, have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +tried to do something not attempted before can understand +how the heart prizes sympathy just at the difficult times, +and how such brave and steadfast comradeship is a thing +that can never be forgotten.</p> + +<p>Among the babies saved through this friend's influence was +one with a short but typical story.</p> + +<p>The little mite was seen first in her mother's arms, and +the mother was standing by the wayside, as if waiting. +Something in her attitude and appearance drew the attention +of an Indian Christian, whom our friend had interested in +the work, and she got into conversation with the mother, +who told her that her husband had died a fortnight before +the baby's birth, and she, being poor though of good caste, +was much exercised about the little one's future. How could +she marry her properly? She had come to the conclusion +that her best plan would be to give her to the Temple. So +she was even then waiting till someone from a Temple house +would come and take her little girl.</p> + +<p>The news that such a child is to be had soon becomes +known to those who are on the watch, and it is improbable +that the mother would have had long to wait. The Christian +persuaded her to give up the idea, and the little babe was +saved and sent to us. On the journey to Dohnavur a Temple +woman chanced to get into the carriage where the little +baby slept in its basket. There was nothing to tell who +she was; and like the other women in the carriage, she was +greatly interested in its story. But presently it became evident +that her interest was more than superficial. She looked +well at the baby and was quiet for a time; then she said to +the Christian who was bringing it to us: "I see it is going to +be an intelligent child. Let me have it; I will pay you." The +Christian of course refused, and asked her how she knew +it was going to be intelligent. "Look at its nose," said the +Temple woman. "See, here is money!" and she offered it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +"Let me have the baby! You can tell your Missie Ammal +it died in the train!"</p> +<div class="sidenote">"He banged the door!"</div> + +<p>Sometimes our babies have to run greater risks than this +in their journeys south to us. The distances which have to +be covered by train and bullock-cart are great, and the +travelling tedious. And there are many delays and opportunities +for difficulties to arise; so that when we know a +baby is on its way to us we feel we want to wrap it round +in prayer, so that, thus invisibly enveloped, it will be protected +and carried safely all the way. Once a little child, travelling +to us from a place as distant, counting by time, as Rome is +from London, was observed by some Brahman men, who +happened to be at the far end of the long third-class +carriage. Our worker, who was alone with the child, noticed +the whispering and glances toward her little charge, and +wrapped it closer in its shawl, and, as she said, "looked out +of the window as if she were not at all afraid, and prayed +much in her heart." Presently a station was reached. The +language spoken there was not her vernacular, but she +understood enough to know something was being said about +the baby. Then an official appeared, and there was a cry +quite understandable to her: "A Brahman baby! That +Christian there is kidnapping a Brahman baby!" The official +stopped at the carriage door. She was pushed towards him +amidst a confused chatter, a crowd gathered at the door in a +moment, and someone shouted in Tamil, above the excited +clamour on the platform: "Pull her out! A Christian with a +Brahman baby!"</p> + +<p>"Then did my heart tremble! I held the baby tight in +my arms. The man in clothes said, 'Show it to me!' +And he looked at its hands and he looked at its feet, +and he said: 'This is no child of yours!' But as I began +to explain to him, the train moved, and he banged the +door; and I praised God!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> + +<p>India is a land where strange things can be accomplished +with the greatest ease. As all went well it is idle to imagine +what might have been; but we knew enough to be thankful.</p> + +<p>Among the unwritten chapters is one which touches a +problem. There are some little children—often the most +valuable to the Temple women—who cannot live with us, but +can live with them, because the baby in the Temple house is +nursed by a foster-mother for the sake of merit, and thus it +is given its best chance of life; whereas with us it is impossible +to get foster-mothers. Indian children of the castes +approved for the service are not, as a class, as robust as +others; the secluded lives of their mothers, and the rigid +rules pertaining to widows (girl-children born after the +mother becomes a widow are, as has been seen, in special +danger), partly account for this; and in other cases there are +other reasons. Whatever the cause, however, the effect is +manifest. The baby is seldom the little bundle of content +of our English nurseries. It may become so later on, if all +goes well. Often it lives upon its birth-strength for four +months, or less, and then slips away. We have often hesitated +about taking such babies; and then we have found +that by refusing one who is likely to die we have discouraged +those who were willing to help us, and the next baby in danger +has been taken straight to the house where its welcome was +assured. So we have hardly ever dared to refuse, and we have +taken little fragile things whose days we knew were numbered +unless a foster-mother could be found, for it seemed to us that +death with us was better than life with the Temple people; +and also we have not dared to risk losing the next, who might +be healthy. "One dies, one lives," say the Temple women in +their wisdom, and take all who are suitable in caste and in +appearance. "She will be 'fair,'" or, "She will be intelligent," +settles the matter for them. They give the baby a chance: +should we do less?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> +<div class="sidenote">"To what Purpose?"</div> + +<p>One night I woke suddenly with the feeling of someone +near, and saw, standing beside my bed out on the verandah, +the friend who has sent us so many little ones. She had +something wrapped in a shawl in her arms, and as she moved +the shawl a thin cry smote me with a fear, for a baby who +has come to stay does not cry like that.</p> + +<p>It was a dear little baby, one of the type the Temple +women prize, and will take so much trouble to rear. The little +head was finely formed, and the tiny face, in its minute perfection +of feature, looked as if some fairy had shaped it out of +a cream rose-petal. Alas, there was that look we know so well +and fear so much—that look of not belonging to us, the +elsewhere, other-world look. But we could not do this work +at all, we would not have the heart to do it, if we did not hope. +So we go on hoping.</p> + +<p>The baby filled the next half-hour, for a thing so small can +be hungry and say so; and together we heated the water and +made the food, till, satisfied at length that her little charge +was comfortable, our friend lay down to rest. "Jesus therefore +being weary with His journey, sat thus on the well." +There is something in the utter weariness after a long, hot +journey, ending with seven hours in a bullock-cart over rough +tracks by night, which always recalls that word of human +tiredness. How I wished that the morning were not so near +as I saw my friend asleep at last! A few hours later she was +on her homeward way, and we were left with our hopes and +our fears, and the baby.</p> + +<p>For three weeks we hoped against fear, till there was no +room left for any more hope, or for anything but prayer that +the child might cease to suffer. And after a month of struggle +for life, the tiny, tossing thing lay still.</p> + +<p>"To what purpose is this waste?" Was it strange that +the question came again to ourselves, and to others too? Our +dear friend's toilsome travelling—a journey equal in expenditure<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +of time to one from London to Vienna and back again, +and very much more exhausting, the faithful nurse's patience, +the little baby's pain! And all the love that had grown through +the weeks, and all the efforts that had failed, the very train +ticket and bandy fare—was it all as water spilt on the +ground? Was it waste?</p> + +<p>We knew in our hearts it was not. The dear little babe +was safe; and it might be that our having taken her, though +she was so very delicate, would result in another, a healthy +child, being saved, who, if she had been refused, would never +have been brought. This hope comforted us; and we prayed +definitely for its fulfilment, and it was fulfilled. For shortly +after that little seed had been sown in death, information came +from the same source through which she had been saved, that +another child was in danger of being adopted by Temple +women; and this information would not have been given to +our friend had the first child been refused. Nundinie we called +this little gift: the name means Happiness.</p> + +<p>Sometimes in moments of depression and disappointment +we go for change of air and scene to the <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Premalia'">Prémalia</ins> nursery; +and the baby Nundinie, otherwise Dimples, of whom more +afterwards, comes running up to us with her welcoming smile +and outstretched arms; while others, with stories as full of +comfort, tumble about us, and cuddle, and nestle, and pat +us into shape. Then we take courage again, and ask forgiveness +for our fears. It is true our problems are not always +solved, and perhaps more difficult days are before; but we will +not be afraid. Sometimes a sudden light falls on the way, +and we look up and still it shines: and what can we do but +"follow the Gleam"?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>A Story of Comfort</h3> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-14.jpg" width="550" height="389" alt="SEELA IS THE BABY IN THE MIDDLE. She slipped into the picture at the last moment, and so was caught unawares. Mala is to the right; Nullinie to the left. (This little one's left hand and foot are partially paralyzed through drugging in infancy.)" title="" /> +<span class="caption">SEELA IS THE BABY IN THE MIDDLE.<br />She slipped into the picture at the last moment, and so was caught unawares. Mala is to the right; Nullinie to the left. (This little one's left hand and foot are partially paralyzed through drugging in infancy.)</span> +<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='cap'>AMONG the stories of comfort is one that belongs to +our merry little Seela. She is bigger now than +when the despairing photographer broke thirteen +plates in the vain attempt to catch her; but she is still +most elusive and alluring, a veritable baby, though over +two years old. Some months ago, the Iyer measured her, +and told her she was thirty-two inches of mischief. For +weeks afterwards, when asked her name, she always replied +with gravity, "Terty-two inses of mistef."</div> + +<p>All who have to do with babies know how different +they can be in disposition and habits. There is the shop-window +baby, who shows all her innocent wares at once +to everyone kind enough to look. She is a charming +baby. And there is the little wild bird of the wood, who +will answer your whistle politely, if you know how to +whistle her note; but she will not trust herself near you +till she is sure of you. Seela is that sort of baby. We +have watched her when she has been approached by some +unfamiliar presence, and seen her summon all her baby +dignity to keep her from breaking into tears of overwhelming +shyness. Give her time to observe you from +under long, drooping lashes; give her time to make sure—then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +the mischief will sparkle out, and something of +the real child. But only something, never all, till you +become a relation; with those who are only acquaintances +Seela, like Bala, has many reserves.</p> + +<p>Seela's joy is to be considered old and allowed to go +to the kindergarten. She takes her place with the bigger +babies, and tries to do all she sees them do. Sometimes +a visitor looks in, and then Seela, naturally, will do nothing; +but if the visitor is wise and takes no notice, she will +presently be rewarded by seeing the eager little face light +up again, and the fat hands busily at work. Seela is not +supposed to be learning very seriously; but she seems to +know nearly as much as some of the older children, and +her quaint attempts at English are much appreciated. +Seela has her faults. She likes to have her own way, and +once was observed to slap severely an offender almost +twice her own size; but on the whole she is a peaceful +little person, beloved by all the other babies, both senior +and junior. Her great ambition is to follow Chellalu into +all possible places of mischief. Anything Chellalu can do +Seela will attempt; and as she is more brave than steady +on her little feet, she has many a narrow escape. Her +latest escapade was to follow her reckless leader in an +attempt to walk round the top of the back of a large +armchair, the cane rim of which is a slippery slant, two +inches wide.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Table Manners</div> + +<p>On the morning of her arrival, not liking to leave her +even for a few minutes, I carried her to the early tea-table, +when she saw the Iyer and smiled her first smile to +him. From that day on she has been his loyal little +friend. At first his various absences from home perplexed +her. She would toddle off to his room and hunt everywhere +for him, even under his desk and behind his waste-paper +basket, and then she returned to the dining-room<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +with a puzzled little face. "Iyer is not!" "Where is he, +Seela?" "Gone to Heaven!" was her invariable reply. +When he returned from that distant sphere she never +displayed the least surprise. That is not our babies' way. +She calmly accepted him as a returned possession; stood +by his chair waiting for the invitation, "Climb up"; climbed +up as if he had never been away—and settled down to +bliss.</p> + +<p>Part of this bliss consists in being supplied with morsels +of toast and biscuit and occasional sips of tea. Sometimes +there is that delicious luxury, a spoonful of the unmelted +sugar at the bottom of the cup. For Seela is a baby after +all, and does not profess to be like grown-up people who +do not appreciate nice things to eat, being, of course, entirely +superior to food; but, excitable little damsel as she +is in all other matters, her table manners are most correct, +and she shows her appreciation of kind attentions in +characteristic fashion. A smile, so quick under the black +lashes that only one on the look-out for it would see it, +a sudden confiding little nestle closer to the giver—these are +her only signs of pleasure; and if no notice is taken of +her, she sits in silent patience. Sometimes, if politeness be +mistaken for indifference, a shadow creeps into her eyes, +a sort of pained surprise at the obtuseness of the great; +but she rarely makes any remark, and never points or +asks, as the irrepressible Chellalu does in spite of all our +admonitions. If, however, Seela is being attended to and +fed at judicious intervals, and she knows the intention is +to feed her comfortably, then her attitude is different. +She feels a reminder will be acceptable; and as soon as +she has disposed of a piece of biscuit, she quietly holds up +an empty little hand, and glances fearlessly up to the face +that looks down with a smile upon her. This little silent, +empty hand, held up so quietly, has often spoken to us<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +of things unknown to our little girl; and as if to enforce +the lesson, the other babies, to our amusement, apparently +noticing the gratifying result of Seela's upturned hand, +began to hold up their little hands with the same silent +expectancy, till all round the table small hands were +raised in perfect silence, by hopeful infants of observant +habits and strong faith.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-15.jpg" width="550" height="385" alt="THE COTTAGE NURSERY." title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE COTTAGE NURSERY.</span> +</div> + +<p>Mala, the rather stolid-looking little girl to the right of +the photograph, is Seela's elder sister. She is not so square-faced +as the photograph shows her, and she is much more +interesting. This little one seems to us to have in some +special sense the grace of God upon her; for her nursery +life is so happy and blameless and unselfish, that we rarely +have to wish her different in anything. Her coming, with +little Seela's, is one of the very gladdest of our Overweights +of Joy.</p> + +<p>We heard of the little sisters through a mission schoolmaster, +who—knowing that they had been left motherless, +and that a Hindu of good position had obtained something +equivalent to powers of guardianship, and thus empowered +had placed them with a Temple woman—was most anxious +to save them, and wrote to us; and, as he expressed it, +"also earnestly and importunately prayed the benign British +Government to intervene."</p> +<div class="sidenote">"And he said. . . . But God said"</div> + +<p>The Collector to whom the petition was sent was a friend +of ours. He knew about the nursery work, and was ready +to do all he could; but he did not want a disturbance with +the Caste and Temple people, and so advised us to try to +get the children privately. We sent our wisest woman-worker, +Ponnamal, to the town, and she saw the principal +people concerned; but they entirely refused to give up the +children. The man who had adopted them had got his +authority from the local Indian sub-magistrate; and contended +that as the Government had given them to him,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +no one had any right to take them from him; "and even if +the Government itself ordered me to give them up, I never +will. I will never let them go." This in Tamil is even more +explicit: "The hold by which I hold them I will never let +go." Ponnamal returned, weary in mind and in body, after +three days of travelling and effort; she had caught a glimpse +of the baby, and the little face haunted her. The elder child +was reported very miserable, and she had seen nothing of +her. The guardian, of course, had not dealt with her +direct; but she heard he had taken legal advice, and was +sure of his position. There was nothing hopeful to report. +Once again we tried, but in vain. By this time a new bond +had been formed, for the guardian had become attached to +little Seela, and spent his time, so we heard, in playing with +her. He let it be known that nothing would ever make +him give her up. "She is in my hand, and my hand will +never let go."</p> + +<p>Then suddenly news came that he was dead. The baby +had sickened with cholera. He had nursed her and contracted +the disease. In two days he had died. He had +been compelled to let go.</p> + +<p>Then the feeling of all concerned changed completely. +It hardly needed the Collector's order, given with the +utmost promptitude, to cause the Temple woman to give +the children up. To the Indian mind, quick to see the +finger of God in such an event, the thing was self-evident. +An unseen Power was at work here. Who were they that +they should withstand it? A telegram told us the children +were safe, and next day we had them here.</p> + +<p>The baby was happy at once; but the elder little one, then +a child of about three and a half, was very sorrowful. She +was so pitifully frightened, too, that at first we could do +nothing with her; and there was a look in her eyes that +alarmed us, it was so distraught and unchildlike. "My<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +mother did her best for them," wrote the kind schoolmaster +to whose house the children had been taken when the Temple +woman gave them up; "but the elder one has fever. She is +always muttering to herself, and can neither stand nor sit." +She could stand and sit now, only there was the "muttering," +and the terrible look of bewilderment worse than pain. For +days it was a question with us as to whether she would ever +recover perfectly. That first night we had to give her +bromide, and she woke very miserable. Next day she stood +by the door waiting for her mother, as it seemed; for under +her breath she was constantly whispering, "Amma! Amma!" +("Mother! Mother!") She never cried aloud, only sobbed +quietly every now and then. She would not let us touch +her, but shrank away terrified if we tried to pet her. All +through the third day she sat by the door. This was better +than the weary standing, but pitiful enough. On the morning +of the fourth day she sat down again for a long watch; but +once when her little hand went up to brush away a tear, +we saw there was a toy in it, and that gave us hope. That +night she went to bed with a doll, an empty tin, and a ball +in her arms; and the next day she let us play with her in +a quiet, reserved fashion. Next morning she woke happy.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Teachers—unawares</div> + +<p>The babies teach us much, and sometimes their unconscious +lessons illuminate the deeper experiences of life. One such +illumination is connected in my mind with the little trellised +verandah, shown in the photograph, of the cottage used as a +nursery when Mala and Seela came to us.</p> + +<p>It was the hour between lights, and five babies under two +years old were waiting for their supper—Seela, Tara, and Evu +(always a hungry baby), Ruhinie, usually irrepressible, but +now in very low spirits, and a tiny thing with a face like +a pansy—all five thinking longingly of supper. These five +had to wait till the fresh milk came in, as their food was +special; that evening the cows had wandered home with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +more than their usual leisureliness from their pasture out +in the jungle, and so the milk was late.</p> + +<p>The babies, who do not understand the weary ways of +cows, disapproved of having to wait, and were fractious. +To add to their depression, the boy whose duty it was to +light the lamps and lanterns had been detained, and the +trellised verandah was dark. So the five fretful babies +made remarks to each other, and threw their toys about +in that exasperated fashion which tells you the limits of +patience have been passed; and the most distressed began +to whimper.</p> + +<p>At this point a lantern was brought and set behind me, +so that its light fell upon the discarded toys, miscellaneous +but beloved—a china head long parted from its body, one +whole new doll, a tin with little stones in it, a matchbox, +and other sundries. If anything will comfort them, their +toys will, I thought, as I directed their attention to the tin +with its pleasant rattling pebbles, and the other scattered +treasures on the mat. But the babies looked disgusted. Toys +were a mockery at that moment. Evu seized the china head +and flung it as far as ever she could. Tara sat stolid, with +two fingers in her mouth. Seela turned away, evidently +deeply hurt in her feelings, and the other two cried. Not +one of them would find consolation in toys.</p> + +<p>Then the pansy-faced baby, Prâsie, pointed out to the +bushes, where something dangerous, she was quite sure, was +moving; and she wailed a wail of such infectious misery that +all the babies howled. And one rolled over near the lantern +which was on the floor behind me, and for safety's sake I +moved it, and its light fell on my face. In a moment all +five babies were tumbling over me with little exclamations +of delight, and they nestled on my lap, caressing and +content.</p> + +<p>Are there not evenings when our toys have no power to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +please or soothe? There is not any rest in them or any +comfort. Then the One whom we love better than all His +dearest gifts comes and moves the lantern for us, so that our +toys are in the shadow but His face is in the light. And +He makes His face to shine upon us and gives us peace.</p> + +<p>"For Thou, O Lord my God, art above all things best; . . . +Thou alone most sufficient and most full; Thou alone most +sweet and most comfortable.</p> + +<p>"Thou alone most fair and most loving; Thou alone most +noble and most glorious above all things; in whom all things +are at once and perfectly good, and ever have been and +shall be.</p> + +<p>"And therefore whatever Thou bestowest upon me beside +Thyself, or whatever Thou revealest or promisest concerning +Thyself, so long as I do not see or fully enjoy Thee, is too +little, and fails to satisfy me.</p> + +<p>"Because, indeed, my heart cannot truly rest nor be entirely +contented unless it rest in Thee, and rise above all Thy gifts +and all things created.</p> + +<p>"When shall I fully recollect myself in Thee, that through +the love of Thee I may not feel myself but Thee alone, above +all feeling and measure in a manner not known to all?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>Pickles and Puck</h3> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-16.jpg" width="550" height="392" alt=""PICKLES" AND HER FRIENDS. "Pickles" sits with her thumb in her mouth, distrustful of photographers." title="" /> +<span class="caption">"PICKLES" AND HER FRIENDS.<br />"Pickles" sits with her thumb in her mouth, distrustful of photographers.<br /><br /></span> +</div> + +<div class='cap'>"AMMA! Amma!" then in baby Tamil, "Salala has +come!" And one of the most enticing of the little +interruptions to a steady hour's work scrambles +over the raised doorstep, tripping and tumbling in her +eagerness to get in. Now she is staggering happily about +the room on fat, uncertain feet. Upsets are nothing to Sarala. +She shakes herself, rubs a bumped head, smiles if you smile +down at her, and picks herself up with a sturdy independence +that promises something for her future. She has travelled +to-day, stopping only to visit her Préma Sittie, a long way +across the field all by herself. She has braved tumbles and +captures, for her nurse may any minute discover her flight; +and even now, safe in port, she keeps a wary eye on the +door which opens on the nursery side of the compound. If +she thinks I am about to suggest her departure, she immediately +engages me in some interest of her own. She has +ways and wiles unknown to any baby but herself; and if all +seems likely to fail, she sits down on the floor, and first puts +out her lower lip as far as it will go, and then springs up, +climbs over you, clings with all four limbs at once, and buries +her curly tangle deep into your neck. But if the case is +hopeless, she sits down on the floor again and digs her small<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +fists into her eyes, in silent indignation and despair. Then +comes a howl impossible to smother, and at last such bitter +bursts of woe as nothing short of dire necessity can force +you to provoke. This is Sarala, one of the most affectionate, +most wilful, most winsome of all the babies. She is truthful. +She has just this moment pulled a drawing-pin out of its place, +which happened to be within reach, and her solemn "Aiyo!" +(Alas!) "Look, Amma!" shows she feels she has sinned, but +wants to confess. Life will have many a battle for this +baby; but surely if she is truthful and loving, and we are +loving and wise, the Lord who has redeemed her will carry +her through.</div> + +<p>Her first great battle royal was with the new Sittie,<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> who +immediately upon arrival loved the babies. The battle was +about Sarala's evening meal, which she refused to take from +the new Sittie because she had offended her small majesty +a few minutes before by allowing another baby to share the +lap of which Sarala wished to have complete possession; and +the baby had crawled off disgusted with the ways of such +a Sittie.</p> + +<p>As a rule we avoid collisions at bedtime. The day should +end peacefully for babies; but the contest once begun had to +be carried through, for Sarala is not a baby to whom it is wise +to give in where a conflict of wills is concerned. Next morning +it was evident she remembered all about it. When the +new Sittie (now called Préma Sittie by the children)<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a> came to +the nursery, Sarala hurried off and would have nothing to do +with her. From the distance of the garden she would catch +sight of her advancing form, and retreat round a corner. +Sometimes if Préma Sittie sat down on the floor and fondled +another baby, Sarala would crawl up from behind, put her arms +round her neck, and even begin to sit down on her knee; but +if her Sittie made the first advance, she was instantly repelled.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +This continued for a fortnight; and as Sarala was only a year +and eight months old at the time, a fortnight's memory rather +astonished us. In the end she forgot, and now there are no +more devoted friends than Préma Sittie and Sarala.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Twins</div> + +<p>But it was the other Sittie, Piria Sittie by name,<a name="FNanchor_D_4" id="FNanchor_D_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_D_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a> who +first made Sarala's acquaintance. She and I went to Neyoor +together when the branch nursery was there; and as the new +nursery was almost ready for the babies, we lightened the +immense undertaking of removal by carting off whatever we +could of furniture and infants. Sarala has eyes which can +smile bewitchingly, and a voice which can coo with delicious +affection; but those sweet eyes can look stormy, and cooing +is a sound remote from Sarala's powers in opposite directions; +so we wondered, as we packed her into the bandy, what +would happen that night. If we had known Sarala better +we should not have wondered. All this child wants to make +her good is someone to hold on to. She woke frequently +during the night, for we were not entirely comfortable, wedged +sideways and close as herrings in a barrel. But all she did +when she awoke was to push a soft little arm round either +one or other of us, and cuddle as close as she possibly could; +the least movement on our part, however, she deeply resented +and feared. A limpet on a rock is nothing to this baby. Her +very toes can cling.</p> + +<p>Sarala's private name is Pickles. Her twin in mischief is +Puck, and she, too, is fond of paying visits to the bungalow. +But she always comes as a surprise; she never announces +herself. You are busy with your back to the door when that +curious feeling, a sense of not being quite alone, comes over +you, and you turn and see an elfish thing, very still and small +and shy, but with eyes so comical that Puck is the only +possible name by which she could be called. Seen unexpectedly, +playing among the flowers in a fragment of green garment<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +washed to the softness of a tulip leaf, you feel she only needs +a pair of small wings and a wand to be entirely in character.</p> + +<p>Puck has none of Pickles' faults, and a good many of her +virtues. She is a most good-tempered little person, loving +to be loved, but equally delighted that others should share the +petting. She gives up to everybody, and smiles her way +through life; such a comical little mouth it is, to match the +comical eyes. All she ever asks with insistence is somewhere +to play. Bereft of room to play, Puck might become disagreeable, +though a disagreeable Puck is something unimaginable. +Yesterday it was needful to keep her in the shade; and as +a special policeman-nurse could not be told off to keep watch +over her, she was tied by a long string to the nursery door. +At first she was sorely distressed; but presently the comic side +struck her, and she sat down and began to tie herself up more +securely. If they do such things at all they should do them +better, she seemed to think. And this is Puck all through. +She will find the laugh hidden in things, if she can. Sometimes +in her eagerness to make everybody as happy as she is herself +she gets into serious trouble. She was hardly able to walk +when she was discovered comforting a crying infant by taking +a bottle of milk from an older babe (who, according to her +thinking, had had enough) and giving it to the younger one +who seemed to need it more. What the older baby said is +not recorded.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Disgraced Dohnavur</div> + +<p>Puck in trouble is a pitiful sight. She tries not to give +in to feelings of depression. She screws her smiling lips tight, +twists her face into a pucker, and shuts her eyes till you only +see two slits marked by the curly eyelashes. But if her +emotions are too much for her she gives herself up to them +thoroughly. There is no whining or whimpering or sulking; +she wails with a wail that rivals Pickles' howl. "What an +awful child!" remarked a visitor one morning, in a very +shocked tone, as she went the round of the nurseries and came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +upon Puck on the floor abandoned to grief. We wondered +if our friend knew how much more awful most babies are, +and we wished the usually charming Puck had chosen +some other moment to disgrace herself and us. But no, there +she sat, her two small fists crushed over her mouth—for +we insist that when the babes feel obliged to cry, they shall +smother the sound thereof as much as may be—and the visitor +retired, feeling, doubtless, thankful the awful child was not +hers. But Puck's griefs are of short duration. Ten minutes +later she was climbing the chain from which the swing hangs, +trying to fit her little toes into the links, and laughing, with +the tears still wet on her cheeks, because the chain shook so +that she could not climb it properly, though she tried it +valiantly, hand over head, like a dancing bear on a pole. +Puck's Guardian Angel, like Chellalu's, must be ever in +attendance.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> Miss Lucy Ross.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> "Préma" means <i>Beloved</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_D_4" id="Footnote_D_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_D_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> Miss Mabel Wade, who joined us November 15, 1907. "Piria," like +"Préma," means <i>Beloved</i>.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>The Howler</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>PICKLES and Puck at their worst and both together +are nothing to the Howler in her separate capacity. +We called her the Howler because she howled.</div> + +<p>We heard of her first through our good Pakium, who, +during a pilgrimage round the district, paid a visit to the +family of which she was the youngest member. "She lay +in her cradle asleep"—Pakium kindled over it—"like an +innocent little flower, and she once opened her eyes—such +eyes!—and smiled up in my face. Oh, like a flower is the +babe!" And much speech followed, till we pictured a tender, +flower-like baby, all sweetness and smiles.</p> + +<p>Her story was such as to suggest fears, though on the +surface things looked safe. Her grandfather, a fine old man, +head of the house, was sheltering the baby and her mother +and three other children; for the son-in-law had "gone to +Colombo," which in this case meant he desired to be free +from the responsibilities of wife and family. He had left no +address, and had not written after his departure. So the old +man had the five on his hands. A Temple woman belonging +to a famous South-country Temple, knowing the circumstances, +had made a flattering offer for the baby, then just +three months old. The grandfather had refused; but the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +grandmother was religious, and she felt the pinch of the +extra five, and secretly influenced her daughter, so that it +was probable the Temple woman would win if she waited +long enough. And Temple women know how to wait.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus-17.jpg" width="500" height="351" alt="THE DOHNAVUR COUNTRY IN FLOOD." title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE DOHNAVUR COUNTRY IN FLOOD.</span> +</div> + +<p>A year passed quietly. We had friends on the watch, +and they kept us informed of what was going on. The +idea of dedication was becoming gradually familiar to the +grandfather, and he was ill and times were hard. But still +we could do nothing, for to himself and his whole clan +adoption by Christians was a far more unpleasant alternative +than Temple-dedication. After all, the Temple people never +break caste.</p> + +<p>Once a message reached us: "Send at once, for the +Temple women are about to get the baby"; and we sent, +but in vain. A few weeks later a similar message reached +us; and again the long journey was made, and again there +was the disappointing return empty-handed. It seemed useless +to try any more.</p> + +<p>About that time a comrade in North Africa, Miss Lilias +Trotter, sent us her new little booklet, "The Glory of the +Impossible." As we read the first few paragraphs and +roughly translated them for our Tamil fellow-workers, such +a hope was created within us that we laid hold with fresh +faith and a sort of quiet, confident joy. And yet, when we +wrote to our friends who were watching, their answer was +most discouraging. The only bright word in the letter was +the word "Impossible."</p> + +<p>"Far up in the Alpine hollows, year by year, God works +one of His marvels. The snow-patches lie there, frozen +into ice at their edges from the strife of sunny days and +frosty nights; and through that ice-crust come, unscathed, +flowers in full bloom.</p> +<div class="sidenote">The Glory of the Impossible</div> + +<p>"Back in the days of the bygone summer the little +soldanella plant spread its leaves wide and flat on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +ground to drink in the sun-rays; and it kept them stored +in the root through the winter. Then spring came and +stirred its pulses even below the snow-shroud. And as it +sprouted, warmth was given out in such strange measure +that it thawed a little dome of the snow above its head. +Higher and higher it grew, and always above it rose the +bell of air till the flower-bud formed safely within it; and +at last the icy covering of the air-bell gave way and let +the blossom through into the sunshine, the crystalline texture +of its mauve petals sparkling like the snow itself, +as if it bore the traces of the fight through which it had +come.</p> + +<p>"And the fragile things ring an echo in our hearts that +none of the jewel-like flowers nestled in the warm turf on +the slopes below could waken. We love to see the impossible +done, and so does God."</p> + +<p>These were the sentences which we read together. To +the South Indian imagination Alpine snow is something +quite inconceivable; but the picture on the cover and snow-scene +photographs helped, and the Indian mind is ever +quick to apprehend the spiritual, so the booklet did its +work.</p> + +<p>We have two seasons here, the wet and the dry. The dry +is subdivided into hot, hotter, and hottest; but the wet stands +alone. It is a time when the country round Dohnavur is +swamp or lake according to the level of the ground; and we +do not expect visitors—the heavy bullock-carts sink in the +mud and make the way too difficult. If a letter had come +just then asking us to send for the baby, we should certainly +have tried to go; but no letter came, and it was then, when +everything said, "Impossible," that suddenly all resistance +gave way and the grandfather said: "Let her go to the +Christians."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 351px;"> +<img src="images/illus-18.jpg" width="351" height="500" alt="PAKIUM AND NAVEENA." title="" /> +<span class="caption">PAKIUM AND NAVEENA.</span> +</div> + +<p>We were sitting round the dinner-table one wet evening,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +thinking of nothing more exciting than the flying and creeping +creatures which insisted upon drowning themselves in our +soup, when the jingle of bullock-bells made us look at each +other incredulously; and then, without waiting to wonder +who it was, we all ran out and met Rukma running in from +the wet darkness. "It's it! it's it!" she cried, and danced +into the dining-room, decorum thrown to the pools in the +compound. "Look at it!" and we saw a bundle in her arms. +And it howled.</p> + +<p>From that day on for nearly a week it continued consistently +to howl. We called the little thing Naveena, for the +name means "new"; and it was our nearest approach to Soldanella, +which we should have called her if we did not keep to +Indian names for our babies. New and fresh as that little +flower of joy, so was our new little gift to us, a new token +for good. But flowers and howlers—the words draw their +little skirts aside and refuse to touch each other. From +certain points of view, in this case as so often, the sublime +and the ridiculous were much too close together. The very +crows made remarks about the baby when she wakened the +morning with her howls. Mercifully for the family's nerves +she fell asleep at noon; but as soon as she woke she began +again, and went on till both she and we were exhausted. +There were no tears, the big dark eyes were only entirely +defiant; and the baby stood straight up with her hands +behind her back and her mouth open—that was all. But +we knew it meant pure misery, though expressed so very +aggressively; and we coaxed and petted when she would +allow us, and won her confidence at last, and then she +stopped.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Friends</div> + +<p>It took months to tame the little thing. She had been +allowed to do exactly as she liked; for she was her grandfather's +pet, and no one might cross her will. We had to +go very gently; but eventually she understood and became<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +a dear little girl, reserved but very affectionate, and scampish +to such a degree that Chellalu, discerning a congenial spirit, +decided to adopt her as "her friend."</p> + +<p>This fact was announced to us at the babies' Bible-class, +when the word "friend," which was new to the babies, was +being explained. It has four syllables in Tamil, and the +babies love four-syllabled words. They were rolling this +juicy morsel under their tongues with sounds of appreciation, +when Chellalu pointed across to Naveena, and with an +air of possession remarked, "<i>She</i> is my friend." The other +babies nodded their heads, "Yes, Naveena is Chellalu's +friend!" Naveena looked flattered and very pleased.</p> + +<p>These friends in a kindergarten class are rather terrible. +They are always separated—as the Tamil would say, if one +sits north the other sits south—but even so there are means +of communication. This morning, passing the door of the +kindergarten room, I looked in and saw something not +included in the time-table. We have a little yellow bellflower +here which grows in great profusion; and some vandal +taught the babies to blow it up like a little balloon, and then +snap it on the forehead. The crack it makes is delightful. +We do not like this game, and try to teach the babies to +respect the pretty flowers; but there are so many sins in the +world, that we do not make another by actually forbidding +it; we trust to time and sense and good feeling to help us. +So it comes to pass that the worst scamps indulge in this +game without feeling too guilty; and now I saw Chellalu +with a handful of the flowers, cracking them at intervals, to +the distraction of the teacher and the delight of all the class. +One other was cracking flowers too. It was Naveena, and +there was a method in her cracks. When Rukma turned to +Chellalu, Naveena cracked her flower. When she turned to +Naveena, then Chellalu cracked hers. How they had eluded +the search which precedes admission to the kindergarten<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +nobody knew; but there they were, each with a goodly handful +of bells. At a word from Rukma, however, they handed them +over to her with an indulgent smile, and even offered to +search the other babies in case they had secreted any; and +as I left the room the lesson continued as before, but the +friends' intention was evident: they had hoped to be turned +out together.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>The Neyoor Nursery</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The roads are rugged, the precipices steep; there may be +feelings of dizziness on the heights, gusts of wind, peals of thunder, +nights of awful gloom. Fear them not!</p> + +<p>"There are also the joys of sunlight, flowers such as are not +in the plain, the purest of air, restful nooks, and the stars smile +thence like the eyes of God."—<span class="smcap">Père Didon</span> (<i>translated by Rev. +Arthur G. Nash</i>).</p></div> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-19.jpg" width="550" height="385" alt="ON THE ROAD TO NEYOOR." title="" /> +<span class="caption">ON THE ROAD TO NEYOOR.</span><br /><br /> +</div> + +<div class='cap'>AND now for a chapter of history. We had not been +long at the new work before we discovered difficulties +unimagined before, and impossible to describe +in detail. Some of these concerned the health of the younger +children; and eventually it seemed best to move the infants' +nursery to within reach of medical help, and keep the bigger +babies and elder children, whose protection was another grave +anxiety, with us at Dohnavur.</div> + +<p>Shortly before that time we had been brought into +touch with the medical missionaries at Neyoor, in South +Travancore. The senior missionary, Dr. Fells, was about to +retire; but his successor, Dr. Bentall, cordially agreed to let +us rent a little house in the village and fill it with babies, +though he knew such a houseful might materially add to +the fulness of his already overflowing day. He, and afterwards<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +Dr. Davidson (now the only survivor at Neyoor of +that kind trio of doctors), seemed to think nothing a trouble +if only it helped a friend. So the little house was taken +and the babies installed.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus-20.jpg" width="500" height="350" alt="ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF NAGERCOIL, WHERE WE STOPPED TO REST." title="" /> +<span class="caption">ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF NAGERCOIL, WHERE WE STOPPED TO REST.</span> +</div> + +<p>The first day, September 25, 1905, is a day to be +remembered. I had gone on before to prepare the house, +and for a day and a half waited in uncertainty as to what +had happened to the little party which was to have +followed close behind. I had left one baby ill. She +was the first child sent to us from the Canarese +country; and I thought of the friends who had sent her, +newly interested and stirred to seek these little ones, and +of what it would mean of discouragement to them if she +were taken, and my heart held on for her.</p> + +<p>At last the carts appeared in sight. It was the windy +season, and six carts had been overturned on the road, so +they had travelled slowly. Then a wheel came off one of +their carts and an accident was narrowly averted. This +had caused the delay. The baby about whom I had feared +had recovered in time to be sent on. She was soon quite +well, and has continued well from that day to this.</p> +<div class="sidenote">The Welcome</div> + +<p>How familiar the road between Dohnavur and Neyoor +became to us, as the months passed and frequent journeys +were made with little new babies! Sometimes those +journeys were very wearisome. There was great heat, or a +dust-laden wind filled the bandy to suffocation and blew +out the spirit-lamp when we stopped to prepare the babies' +food. How glad we used to be when, in the early evening, +the white gleam of the stretch of water outside Nagercoil +appeared in sight! We used to stop and bathe the babies, +and feed them under some convenient trees, and then go +on to our friends with whom we were to spend the night, +trusting that the soothing effect of the bathe and food +would not pass off until after our arrival. Those friends,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +our comrades of the L.M.S., like the Medicals at Neyoor, +seemed made of kindness. How often their welcome has +rested us after the long day!</p> + +<p>Next morning we tried to start early, so as to arrive at +Neyoor before the sun shone in fever-threatening strength +straight in through the open end of the cart. This plan, +however, proved too difficult, so we found it better to travel +slowly straight on from Dohnavur to Neyoor. In this way we +missed the blazing sun; but we also missed the refreshment +of our friends at Nagercoil, and arrived more or less tired +out, after a journey which, because of slow progress and +frequent stops, was equal in time to one from London to +Marseilles. But the welcome at the nursery made up for +everything.</p> + +<p>How vividly the photograph recalls it! The house +opened upon the main street of the village, and there was +nearly always a watcher on the look-out for us. Sometimes +it was Isaac, our good man-of-all-work, who never +failed Ponnamal through the two years he was with us. +Then we would hear a call, and Ponnamal (we used to call +her the Princess, but dignity gives place to something more +human at such moments) would come flying down the +path with a face which made words superfluous. Then +there was the scramble out of the bandy, and the handing +down of babies and exclamations about them; and all the +nurses seemed to be kissing us at once and making their +amazed babies kiss us, and everything was for one happy +moment bewilderingly delightful.</p> + +<p>Then there was the run round the cradles in which +smaller babies were sleeping, and an eager comparing of +notes as to the improvement of each. And if there were +no improvement, how well one remembers the smothered +sense of disappointment—smothered in public at least, lest +the nurses should be discouraged. Then came a cup of tea<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +on the mat in the little front room, where four white +hammock-cradles hung, one in each corner; while Ponnamal +sat beside me with three babies on her knee and two or +three more somewhere near her. The babies used to study +me in their wise and serious fashion, and then make careful +advances. And so we would make friends.</p> + +<p>Ponnamal had always much to tell about the exhaustless +kindness of the doctors and their wives and the lady +superintendent of the hospital. And the chief Tamil medical +Evangelist had been true to his name, which means Blessedness. +Once, in much distress of mind, we sent a little +babe to the nursery, hardly daring to hope for her. When +she arrived, the doctors were both away on tour, and the +medical Evangelist was in charge. He attended to her at +once, and by God's grace upon his work was able to relieve +the little child, who has prospered ever since.</p> + +<p>But I must leave unrecorded many acts of helpfulness. +In those early days of doubt and difficulty, almost forgotten +by us now, we beckoned to our "partners which were in the +other ship," and their Master and ours will not forget how +they held out willing hands and helped us.</p> + +<p>It was not always plain sailing, even at Neyoor. "You +are fighting Satan at a point upon which he is very sensitive; +he will not leave you long in peace," wrote an experienced +friend. On Palm Sunday, 1907, our first little band of young +girls, fruit of this special work, confessed Christ in baptism, +and we stood by the shining reach of water, and tasted of a +joy so pure and thrilling that nothing of earth may be +likened to it. A fortnight later we were ordered to the +hills, and then the trouble came.</p> + +<p>The immediate cause was overcrowding. Why did we +overcrowd?</p> +<div class="sidenote">Could we Refuse?</div> + +<p>Friends at home to whom the facts about Temple service +were new, were stirred to earnest prayer. Out here fellow-missionaries<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +helped us to save the children. God heard the +prayer and blessed the work, and children began to come. +Soon our one little room became too full. We had babies +in the bungalow and on our verandah, babies everywhere. +Then money came to build two more rooms, but they were +soon too full. At Neyoor the pressure was worse, for we +could only rent two small houses; and though we put up +mat shelters, and the children lived as much as possible in +the open air, it was difficult to manage. But how could we +refuse the little children? The Temple women were ready to +take them if we had refused. Their houses are never too full. +There was no other nursery to which they could be sent. +Little children who had passed the troublesome infant stage +could sometimes find a home elsewhere; but only the Temple +houses were open at all times to babies. Could we have +written to the friend who had saved a little child: "Hand +her back to the Temple. It is the will of our Father that +this little one should perish"? Should we have done it? +We dare not do it. We prayed that help would be sent to +build new nurseries, and we went on and did our best; but +it was difficult.</p> + +<p>We had just reached the hills in early April, and were +forbidden to return, when news reached us of a fatal +epidemic of dysentery which had broken out in the Neyoor +nursery. Unseasonable rains had fallen and driven the +babies indoors; this increased the overcrowding. The doctors +were away. Letters telling us about the disaster had been +lost—how, we never knew—so that the second which reached +us, taking it for granted we had the first, gave no details, +only the names of the smitten babes—nineteen of them, and +five dead. Then trouble followed trouble. "While he was +yet speaking, there came also another." Some evil men who +had sought to injure us before, caused us infinite anxiety. +And for a time that cannot be counted in days or in weeks<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +it was like living through a nightmare, when everything +happens in painful confusion and the sense of oppression is +complete.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-21.jpg" width="550" height="391" alt="THE NEYOOR NURSERY." title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE NEYOOR NURSERY.</span> +</div> + +<p>Out of the maelstrom came a letter from Ponnamal. +"We are being comforted," she wrote. "You will be longing +to come to us, but oh, do not come! If you were here all +your strength would be given to fighting this battle with +death, and you would have no strength left for prayer. +God wanted to have one of us free to pray; and so He has +taken you up to the mountain, as He took Moses when the +people were fighting down in the plain." This was the true +inward meaning of it all, and I knew it. But Ponnamal is +far from strong, and I feared for her; and to stay away with +the babies ill—it was the very hardest thing I had ever +been asked to do.</p> + +<p>When the trouble passed there were ten in heaven. +One, a little child of two, had been saved so wonderfully +from Temple dedication that we had looked forward to +a future of special blessing for her; and another was a +very lovely babe, dear to the missionary who, after much +toil and many disappointments, had been comforted by +saving her. Each of the ten had cost someone much. But +this is an earthly point of view. They had cost Him most +who had taken them, and he is only an owner in name +who has no right to do as he will with his own.</p> + +<p>The other side, the purely human side, pressed heavily +just then. The doctors had most kindly at once ordered +a mission room, vacated at that season, to be lent to the +nursery, and another little house was taken for the month. +How Ponnamal kept all four houses going in an orderly +fashion, how she kept her nurses together through that time +of almost panic, and how she herself, frail and delicate as +she is, kept up till all was over, we cannot understand from +any point of view but the Divine. She only broke down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +once. It was when her dearest child, our merry, beautiful +little Heart's Joy, who, having more strength than most, had +battled longer and almost recovered, suddenly sank. The +visible cause was that a special nutrient, which, being costly, +we stocked in small quantities, ran short, and the fresh supply +reached the nursery just too late. "If only it had come +yesterday!" moaned Ponnamal, and we with her when we +heard of the series of contretemps which had delayed its +arrival. The torture of second causes is as the blackness of +darkness, but the Lord gave deliverance from it; for just +as she had to part with all that was left her of our little +Heart's Joy, a letter came from Dr. Davidson which was God's +own blessed comfort to a heart almost broken. She never +refers to that letter without the quick tears starting. "I +could let my little treasure go after I read that letter. It +strengthened me."</p> +<div class="sidenote">"The Lord sat as King at the Flood"</div> + +<p>While all this was going on in Neyoor, Chellalu, then just +two years old, was very ill in Dohnavur. Mr. and Mrs. +Walker were still there, and they nursed her night and day; +but at last a letter came, evidently meant to prepare me +for fresh sorrow. "Every little lamb belongs to the Good +Shepherd, not to us," the letter said, and told of a temperature +106° and rising. The child, all spirit and frolic, had little +reserve strength, and there was not much cause for hope. +But we were spared this parting. Chellalu is with us still.</p> + +<p>The sky was clearing again and we were beginning to +breathe freely, when the worst that had ever touched us in +all our years of work came suddenly upon us. How small +things that affect the body appear when the point of attack +wheels round to the soul! The death of all the babies +seemed as nothing compared with the falling away of one +soul. But God is the God of the waves and the billows, +and they are still His when they come over us; and again +and again we have proved that the overwhelming thing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +does not overwhelm. Once more by His interposition +deliverance came. We were cast down, but not destroyed.</p> + +<p>A time of calm succeeded this storm. Money came to build +nurseries at Dohnavur, and buy more of the special nutrients +we so much required. The Neyoor remnant picked up, and +the nurses took heart again. I went out to them as soon +as I could after our return from the hills, and found +those who were left well and strong. "They shall see His +face" had been the text in <i>Daily Light</i>, the evening the +news reached me of the little procession heavenwards. I +looked at the ten names written in the margin of my +book; and, recalling the story of each, could be glad they +have seen the face of the One who loves them best. Lower +down on the page come the words, "We shall be satisfied." +We thought of our babies satisfied so soon; and then we +knelt together and said, "Even so, Father: for so it seemeth +good in Thy sight."</p> + +<p>Pretty pictures all in colours and bright sunshine tempt +one to linger over that visit. I can see the white hammocks +slung from the trees in the nursery compound, and happy +baby-faces looking out of them. And another shows me +one who had been like a sister to Ponnamal, lightening +her load whenever she could; sitting with two dear babies +in her arms, and another clinging round her neck. "She +comes and helps us often in the mornings when we are +very busy," said Ponnamal about the doctor's wife, as I +noticed the babies' affection for her and her sweet, kind ways +with them. "Sometimes when I am feeling down and home-sick, +she comes in like this and plays with the babies, +and cheers us all up." The Indian woman is very home-loving. +Only devotion to the children could have kept the +nurses and Ponnamal so long in exile for their sake; and +there were times when even Ponnamal's brave heart sank. +Then these love-touches helped.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> +<div class="sidenote">Goodbye to Neyoor</div> + +<p>When the time came for the nursery party to leave +Neyoor and return to Dohnavur, after two and a half years +in that hospitable mission, we were sorry to part. Days +like the days we had passed through test the stuff of which +souls are made, and they prove what we call friendship. +After the fire has spent itself, the fine gold shines out purified, +and there is something solemn in its light. We had grown +close to our friends in Neyoor; but the cloud had moved, so +far as we could read the sign, and it seemed right to return. +The missionaries were away when the day came, but the +Christians surrounded Ponnamal with tokens of goodwill. +"The nursery has been like a little light in our midst," they +said; and this word cheered her more than all other words. +And so farewelled, they arrived home, all glad and warm +with the glow that comes when hearts meet each other +and each finds the other kind.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>In the Compound and Near it</h3> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-22.jpg" width="550" height="390" alt="THE OLD NURSERY. THE "ROOM OF JOY."" title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE OLD NURSERY. THE "ROOM OF JOY."</span> +<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='cap'>"NOW I know why God put you in Dohnavur when +He wanted this work done. He hid you from the +eyes of the world for the little children's sake. He +knew this work could never have been done by the road-side, +so He hid you."</div> + +<p>The speaker was a Christian friend from Palamcottah, an +Indian lawyer who, for the first time, had come out to see us. +He had found our approaches appalling, and had wondered +at first why we lived in such an out-of-the-way place, three +or four miles from the nearest road, and twenty-four from +civilisation. When he saw the children he understood. +Later, he helped us in an attempt to save two little ones +in danger, and insisted not only upon paying his own and +our worker's expenses, but in sending us a gift for the +nurseries. With the gift came a letter full of loving, +Indian sympathy; and again he added as before: "The Lord +hid you in that quiet place for the little children's sake." +Sometimes when the inconveniences of jungle life press upon +us, we remember our friend's words: "This work could never +have been done by the road-side, so He hid you."</p> + +<p>We have children with us who would not have been safe +for a day had we lived near a large town or near a railway.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +The stretch of open country between us and Palamcottah +(the Church Missionary Society centre of the Tinnevelly +district), to cover which, by bullock-cart, takes as long as to +travel from London to Brussels, is not considered very safe for +solitary Indian travellers, as the robber clan frequent it, and +this is an added protection for the children. Several times, +to our knowledge, unwelcome visitors have been deterred from +making a raid upon us, by the rumour of the robbers on +the road. We are also most mercifully quite out of the beat +of the ordinary exploiter of missions; few except the really +keen care for such a journey; so that we get on with our +work uninterrupted by anything but the occasional arrival +of welcome friends and comrades. These, when they visit us +for the first time, are usually much astonished to find something +almost civilised out in the wilds, and they walk round +with an air of surprise, and quite inspiring appreciation, +being kindly pleased with little, because they had looked +for less.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-23.jpg" width="550" height="390" alt="THE COURTYARD." title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE COURTYARD.</span> +</div> + +<p>The compound in which the nurseries are built is a field, +bounded on three sides by fields, and on the fourth by the +bungalow compound. The Western Ghauts with their foothills +make it a beautiful place.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Coming-days</div> + +<p>The buildings are not beautiful. With us, as elsewhere, +doubtless, even the break of a gable in the straight, barn-like +roof makes a difference in the estimate, and we have +never had a margin for luxuries. But the walls are coloured +a soft terra-cotta, the roofs are a dull red; while the porches +(hidden by the palm trunks in the photograph) are a mass +of greenery and bloom; and the garden at the moment of +writing is rejoicing in over a hundred lilies, brilliant yellow +and flame colour, each head with its many flowers rising +separate and radiant in the sunshine. Then we have +oleanders, crimson and pink and white, and little young +hibiscus trees, crimson and rose and cream. The arches<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +in the new nursery garden are covered with the lilac of +morning-glory; and the Prayer-room in the middle of the +garden is a mass of violet passion-flower, the pretty pink +antigone, and starry jessamine. The very hedges at this +season are out in yellow flower, and a trellis round the +nursery kitchen is a delight of colour; so though our buildings +are simple, we think the lines have fallen unto us in pleasant +places.</p> + +<p>The first picture shows the old nursery, used now for +the kindergarten. It opens off the courtyard shown in the +second photo. This courtyard serves as an open-air room, +a bright little place which is filled with merrier children +than the sober photograph shows. Tamils old and young +move when they laugh or even smile; in fact they wriggle. +Being still, with them, meant being seriously subdued; and +so, where time-exposures were required, we had to choose +between solemn photos, or no photos at all.</p> + +<p>Opening off the courtyard on the opposite side to the kindergarten +is a room used as a store-room and Bible-class room +combined. It was so very uncomfortable that last Christmas, +as a surprise for the children, we divided the room into two +halves with a curtain between. Their half is made pretty +with pictures and texts, painted in blue on pale brown +wood. The children call this part of the room the Tabernacle. +The part beyond the curtain is the court of the +Gentiles.</p> + +<p>The Coming-Day Feasts are a feature of Dohnavur life. +Now that there are so many feasts to celebrate, we find it +more convenient to combine; and the photograph overleaf +shows as much as it can of one such happy feast. The children +who are being fêted are distinguished from the others by +having flowers in their hair. No Indian feast is complete +without flowers. Jessamine is the favourite, but the prettiest +wreaths are made of pink oleander; and sometimes a girl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +will surprise us with a new and lovely combination, as of +brown flowering grasses and yellow Tecoma bells.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-24.jpg" width="550" height="386" alt="A COMING-DAY FEAST." title="" /> +<span class="caption">A COMING-DAY FEAST.</span> +</div> + +<p>Opposite the kindergarten room is the first of the two +new nurseries—the lively Parrot-house. This nursery, really +the Taraha (Star, called after its English giver, whose name +means "star") is the abode of the middle-aged babies, aged +between two years and four. Most of these attend the +kindergarten, and are very proud of the fact.</p> + +<p>The Prémalia nursery (Abode of Love), given by two +friends in memory of a mother translated, lies beyond the +Taraha. Here the tiny infants live, and we call it the +Menagerie. This nursery, like the other, looks out on the +glorious mountains. If beautiful things can make babies +good, ours should be very good.</p> + +<p>On the eastern side of the field we have lately built two +small sick-rooms, used oftener as overflow nurseries. These +little rooms have names meaning "peace" and "tranquillity"; +and those of us who have lived in them with our babies, +sick or well, find the names appropriate. In the foreground +there is a garden, in the background the mountain; and +to give purpose to it all, the foreground is full of life. A +new nursery now being built is a welcome gift from Australia; +and a new field with a noble tree, in whose shade a hundred +children could play, is the gift of a friend who stayed with +us for one bright week last year.</p> + +<p>All this is a later development, unthought of when our +artist friend was with us. We have often wished for him +since the nurseries filled. When he was with us our choice +of subject was very limited: now, wherever we look we see +pictures, which to be properly caught ask for colour photography.</p> + +<p>The story of these buildings is the story of the Ravens, +so old and yet so new. When first the work began, we had +only one mud-floored room for nursery, kitchen, bedroom,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +and everything else that was needed. We hardly knew +ourselves whereunto things would grow, and feared to +run before the Lord by even a prayer for buildings. And yet +we could not go on as we were. The birds were soon +too many for the nest, and we needed more nests. No +one knew of our need; for visitors at that time were few +at Dohnavur, and we told no one. But money began to +come. We ventured on a single room without a verandah +or even foundations—built of sun-dried bricks as inexpensively +as possible. But it was a palace to us. While +we were building it, more little children came. We felt we +should need more room, but had not more money; so we +told the builders to wait for a day while we gave ourselves to +prayer about the matter. Was the work going to grow +much more? We were fearful of making mistakes. Were +we right to incur fresh responsibility?—for buildings need +to be kept in condition, and the cheaper they are the more +care they need. No one at home was responsible for us. +No one had authorised this new work. It would not be +fair to saddle those on whom the burden might eventually +fall with responsibilities for which they were not responsible. +And yet surely the work of saving these little children had +been given to us to do? Someone was responsible. Surely, +unless we were utterly wrong and had mistaken the Shepherd's +Voice, surely He was responsible! He could not +mean us to search for the lambs for whom only the wolves +had been searching, and then leave them out in the open, +found but unfolded, or packed so close in the little fold +that they could not grow as little lambs should?</p> +<div class="sidenote">The Registered Letter</div> + +<p>We rolled the burden off that day as to the ultimate +responsibility, and we asked definitely for all that was +needed to build another room.</p> + +<p>Three days later a registered letter came from a bank in +Madras. It contained an anonymous gift of one hundred<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +rupees, and was marked, "For a new nursery." The date +showed that it had been posted in Madras on the day of +our waiting upon God for guidance as to His wishes. A +few days later, the same amount, with the same direction as +to its use, was sent to us from the same bank. The giver, +as we knew long afterwards, was a fellow-missionary in +Tinnevelly, whose order to send these sums to us was given +before even we ourselves had fully understood the meaning +of the leading. The second room was built on to the first, +and the children called it the Room of Joy.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-25.jpg" width="550" height="391" alt="THE RED LAKE. Water Palms, with Mountains in the background." title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE RED LAKE.<br />Water Palms, with Mountains in the background.</span> +</div> + +<p>There are no secrets in India. The Hindu masons were +amazed at what they at once recognised as the hand of the +Lord upon the work, and they spread the story everywhere. +Later, when they built the nursery where poor little Mala +stood and mourned, they understood why they had to stop +before the verandah was built. Only enough was in hand +to build the bare room; but to their eyes, as to ours, a +verandah was much needed, and they were content to wait +till what was required for one came. In this land of +blazing sunshine and drenching monsoon a house without +a verandah is hardly habitable, and a small square room +without one has a Manx-cat appearance.</p> +<div class="sidenote">"These are Thy wonders, Lord"</div> + +<p>The story of the rooms has been repeated in the story of +the work ever since. "Do not thank us. It is only a +belated tenth," wrote a fellow-missionary not long ago, as +she sent a gift for the nurseries. Belated tenths have +reached us sometimes when they have been like visible +ravens flying straight from the blue above. All the long +journeys in search of the children, all the expenses connected +with their salvation, all that has been required to +provide nurses and food (including the special nourishment +without which the more delicate could not live at all), all +that is now being needed for their education—all has come and +is coming as the ravens came to Elijah. The work has been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +a revelation of how many hearts are sensitive and obedient +to the touch of the Spirit; for sometimes help has reached +us in such a way and in such form that we could not but +stand and worship, awestruck by the token of the nearness +of our God. There is many a spot marked in garden or in +field or in the busy nursery or our own quiet room, where, +with the open letter in our hand—the letter of relief from +a pressure unknown even to the nearest fellow-worker—we +have knelt in spirit with Jacob and said: "Surely the Lord +is in this place!" and almost added, so dense are we in +unilluminated moments, "and I knew it not."</p> + +<p>Framed between red roofs and foliage, there are far blue +glimpses of mountains shown in this lakeside photograph. +We do not see the water from the compound. It lies on +the other side of the boundary fields and hedges; but we +see the mountains with perfect distinctness of outline, +scarped with bare crags, which in the early morning are +sometimes pink, and in the evening, purple. But the time +to see the mountains in their glory is when the south-west +monsoon is flinging its masses of cloud across to us. Then +the mountains, waking from the lazy sleep of the long, hot +months, catch the clouds on their pointed fangs, toss them +back and harry them, wrap themselves up in robes of them, +and go to sleep again.</p> + +<p>The road that skirts the Red Lake leads through two +ancient Hindu towns, from both of which we have children +saved, in each case as by a miracle. In the first of these old +towns there is a Temple surrounded by a mighty wall.</p> + +<p>There are two large gates and one small side door in +the wall; and, passing in through the small side door, one +sees another wall almost as strong as the first, and realises +something of the power that built it. The Temple is in the +centre of the large enclosure. It is a single tower opening +off the inner court. In the outer court a pillared hall is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +used as stable for the Temple elephant, and two camels +lounge in the roughly kept garden in front. This Temple, +with its double walls, its massive, splendidly-carved doors +and expensive animal life, is somewhat of a surprise to the +visitor, who hardly expects to see so much in a little old +country town on the borders of the wilds. But Hinduism +has not lost hold of this old remote India yet. There are +some who think that the country town is the place to see +it in strength.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-26.jpg" width="550" height="408" alt="AT THE DOOR OF THE TEMPLE." title="" /> +<span class="caption">AT THE DOOR OF THE TEMPLE.</span> +</div> + +<p>It was early in August, three years ago, that we heard of +a baby girl in that town, devoted from birth to the god. +We set wheels in motion, and waited. A month passed and +nothing was done. We could not go ourselves and attempt +to persuade the mother to change the vow she had made, +as any movement on our part would only have riveted +the links that fettered the child to the god. We had to be +quiet and wait. At last, one evening in September, a Hindu +arrived in the town with whom our friends who were on +the watch had intimate connection. He, too, knew about the +child; and he knew a way unknown to our friends by which +the mother might be influenced, and he consented to try. +His arrival just at that juncture appeared to us, who were +waiting in daily expectation of an answer of deliverance, as +the evident beginning of that answer; thus our faith was +quickened and we waited in keen hope. Two days later, +after dark, there was a rush from the nursery to the +bungalow. "The baby has come!" Another moment, and +we were in the nursery. A woman—one of our friends—was +standing with what looked like a parcel wrapped in a +cloth hidden under her arm. Even then, though all was +safe, she was trembling; and outside, two men, her relations, +stood on guard. She opened the white cloth, and inside +was the baby.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Her Choice</div> + +<p>The men assured us that all was right. The mother had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +been convinced of the wrongness of dedicating the little babe, +and would give us no trouble. But a day or two later, she +came and demanded it back. She could not stand the derision +of her friends, who told her she had sinned far more in giving +her child to those who would break its caste than she ever +could have done had she given it to the Temple. We pacified +her with difficulty, and were thankful when the little thing +was safe in the Neyoor nursery. For in those days, before +we learned how best to protect our children, we were +often glad to have some place even more out of reach than +Dohnavur.</p> + +<p>The second of these old towns is famous for its rock, and +its Temple built into the rock. Looking down from above +one can see inside the courtyard as into an open well. Connected +with this Temple, some years ago, there was a beautiful +young Temple woman, who had been given as a child—as +all Temple women must be—to the service of the gods. +She had no choice as regarded herself—probably the idea +of choice never entered her mind—but for her babe she +determined to choose; and yet she knew of no way of +deliverance.</p> + +<p>But there was a way of deliverance, and if it had only +been for this one child's sake, and for the sake of the relief +it must have been to that fear-haunted mother, we are glad +with a gladness too deep for words that the nursery was here. +For the mother heard of it. There were lions in the path. +She quietly avoided them, and through others who were +willing to help she sent her child to us. She herself would +not come. She waited a mile or so from the bungalow till +the matter was concluded, then returned to her home alone.</p> + +<p>A week later she appeared suddenly at the bungalow. It +was only to make sure the little one was safe and well, and +in order to sign a paper saying she was wholly given to us. +This done she disappeared again, refusing speech with anyone,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +and for months we heard nothing of her. Then cholera +swept our countryside, and we heard she had taken it and +died. We leave her to God her Creator, who alone knows +all the story of her life: we only know enough to make us +very silent. And through the quiet we hear as it were a +voice that chants a fragment from an old hymn: "We +believe that <b>THOU</b> shalt come to be our Judge."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>From the Temple of the Rock</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>ANOTHER little girl who came from that same Temple +of the Rock has a story very different from the other, +and far more typical.</div> + +<p>It was on a blazing day in June, when the very air, tired +of being hot, leaned heavily upon us, and we felt unequal +to contest, that a cough outside my open door announced a +visitor. "Come in!" Another cough, and I looked out and +saw a shuffling form disappear round the corner of the house. +I called again, and the figure turned. It was a man who +had helped us before, but about whose <i>bonâ-fides</i> we had +doubts; so we asked without much hopefulness what he had +to tell us. He said he had reason to believe a certain Temple +woman known to him had a child she meant to dedicate +to the god of a Temple a day's journey distant. Then he +paused. "Do you know where she is now?" "She is on +her way to the Temple." "It would be well if she came here +instead." "If that is the Animal's desire it may be possible +to bring her." "Has she gone far? Could you overtake +her?" "She is waiting outside your gate."</p> + +<p>At such a moment it is wise to show no surprise and no +anxiety. All the burning eagerness must be covered up with +coolness. But in the hour that intervened before the woman<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +"at the gate" could be persuaded to come further, we quieted +ourselves in the Lord our God and held on for the little child.</p> + +<p>At last the shuffling step and the sound of voices told us +they had come—two women, the man, and a child. The child +was a baby of something under two, a sad-looking little thing, +with great, dark, pathetic eyes looking out from under limp +brown curls. She was very pale and fragile; and when the +woman who carried her set her down upon the floor and +propped her against the wall, she leaned against it listlessly, +with her little chin in her tiny hand, in a sorrowful, grown-up +fashion. I longed to take her and nestle her comfortably; but, +of course, took no notice of her. Any sign of pity or sympathy +would have been misunderstood by the women. All through +the interminable talk upon which her fate depended, that +child sat wearily patient, making no demands upon anyone; +only the little head drooped, and the mouth grew pitiful in +its complete despondency.</p> + +<p>The ways of the East are devious. The fact that the child +had been brought to us did not indicate a decision to give +her to us instead of to the Temple. The woman and the man +who had persuaded them to come had much to say to one +another, and there was much we had to explain. A child +given to Temple service is not in all cases entirely cut off +from her people. If the Temple woman's hold on her is +sure, her relations are sometimes allowed to visit her; so +far as friendly intercourse goes she is not lost to them. +But with us things are different. For the child's own sake +we have to refuse all intercourse whatever. Once given to +us, she is lost to them as if they had never had her. We +adopt the little one altogether or not at all.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Till the Battle is Won</div> + +<p>It is a delicate thing to explain all this so clearly that +there can be no misunderstanding about it, without so +infuriating the relations that they will have nothing more +to do with us. Naturally their view-point is entirely different<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +from ours, and they cannot appreciate our reasons. At such +a time we lean upon the Invisible, and count upon that +supernatural help which alone is sufficient for us; we count +also upon the prayers of those who know what it is to +pray through all opposing forces, till the battle is won by +faith which is the victory.</p> + +<p>It was strange to watch the women as the talk went on. +The <i>woman</i> within them had died, there was nothing of it +left to which we could appeal; everything about them was +perverted, unnatural. I looked at the insensitive faces and +then at the sensitive face of the child, and entered deeper +than ever into the mercifulness of God's denunciations of sin.</p> + +<p>Once towards the close of what had been a time of some +tension, the leader of the two women suddenly sprang up, +snatched at the tired baby, and flung out of the room with +her. She had been gradually hardening; and I had felt rather +than seen the shutting down of the prison-house gates upon +that little soul, and had, as a last resource, appealed to the +sense, not wholly atrophied, the sense that recognises the +supernatural. God is, I told them briefly; God takes cognisance +of what we are and do: God will repay: some time, +somewhere, God will punish sin. The arrow struck through +to the mark. Startled, indignant, overwhelmed by the sweep +of an awful conviction, with a passionate cry she rushed +away; and we lived through one breathless moment, but +the next saw the child dropped into our arms, safe at last.</p> + +<p>Facts about any matter of importance are usually other +than at first stated; but we have reason to believe that in +this instance our shuffling friend spoke the truth. The women +were really on their way to the Temple when he waylaid +them. The wonder was that they allowed themselves to be +persuaded by him to come to us. But if nothing happened +except what we might naturally expect would happen in +this work, we might as well give it up at once. If we did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +not expect our Jericho walls to fall down flat, it would be +foolish indeed to continue marching round them.</p> + +<p>It was a relief when the women left the compound, after +signing a paper committing the child to us. There is defilement +in the mere thought of evil, but such close contact with +it is a thing by itself. The sense of contamination lasted for +days; and yet would that we could go through it every day +if the result might be the same! For the child woke up to +a new life, and became what a child should be. At first it +was very pitiful. She would sit hour after hour as she had +sat through that first hour, with her chin in hand, her eyes +cast down, and the little mouth pathetic. We found that, +in accordance with a custom prevailing in the coterie of +Temple women belonging to the Temple of the Rock, she had +been lent by her mother to another woman when she was +an infant, the other lending her baby in exchange. This +exchange had worked sadly; for the little one had asked for +something which had not been given her, and her two years +had left her starved of love and experienced in loneliness. +But when she came to us everything changed; for love and +happiness took her hands and led her back to baby ways, +and taught her how to laugh and play: and now there is +nothing left to remind us of those two first years but a +certain droop of the little mouth when she feels for the +moment desolate, or wants some extra petting.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>Yosépu</h3> + + + +<div class="figright" style="width: 381px;"> +<img src="images/illus-27.jpg" width="381" height="550" alt="THE WATER CARRIERS." title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE WATER CARRIERS.</span> +</div> + +<div class='cap'>NO description of the compound would be complete +without mention of Yosépu, friend of the babies.</div> + +<p>This photograph shows the Indian equivalent of +pumps and water-pipes. We have neither; so all the water +required for a family of about a hundred has to be drawn +from the well and carried to the kitchens and nurseries. The +elder girls, who would otherwise help with the work, according +to South Indian custom, are already fully employed with the +babies. So at present the men do it all. They also buy +the grain and other food-stuffs, look after the cows and +vegetable garden—a necessity for those who dwell far from +markets—and in all other possible masculine ways are of +service to the family.</p> + +<p>Chief of these men is Yosépu, whose seamed and wrinkled +and most expressive face I wish we had photographed, instead +of this not very interesting string of solemnities.</p> + +<p>Yosépu is not like a man, he is more like a dear dog. +He has the ways of our dog-friends, their patience and +fidelity, their gratefulness for pats.</p> + +<p>He came to us in a wrecked condition, thin and weak +and rather queer. He had been beaten by his Hindu +brother for becoming a Christian, and it had been too<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +much for him. The first time we saw him, a few minutes +after his arrival, he was standing leaning against a post +with folded hands and upturned eyes and a general expression +of resignation which went to our hearts. We found +afterwards he was not feeling resigned so much as hungry, +and he was better after food.</p> + +<p>For a week he slept, ate, and meditated. Sometimes he +would hover round us, if such a verb is admissible for his +seriousness of gait. He would wait till we noticed him, +then sigh and extend his hand. He wanted us to feel his +pulse—both pulses. This ceremony always refreshed him, +and he would return to his corner of the verandah and +meditate till his next meal came.</p> + +<p>Sometimes, however, more attention was required. He +would linger after his pulses were felt, and we knew he +was not satisfied. One day a happy thought struck us. +The Tamil loves scent. The very babies sniff our hands if +we happen to be using scented soap, and tell each other +rapturously what they think about that "chope." Scent is +the one thing they cannot resist. A tin of sweets on our +table may be untouched for days, few babies being wicked +enough to venture upon it in our absence; but a bottle of +scent is irresistible, and scented "chope" on our washing-stands +has a way of growing thin. The baby will emerge +from our bathrooms rubbing suspiciously clean hands, and +in her innocence will invite us to smell them. Then we +know why our "chope" disappears. So now that Yosépu +needed something to lift him over the trials of life, we +remembered the gift of a good Scottish friend, and tried +the effect of eau-de-Cologne. It worked most wonderfully. +Yosépu held out his two hands joined close lest a single +drop should spill, and then he stood and sniffed. It would +have made a perfect advertisement—the big brown man +with his hands folded over his nose, and an expression of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +absolute bliss upon every visible feature. Now, when Yosépu +is down-hearted, we always try eau-de-Cologne.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Blessed be Drudgery</div> + +<p>His first move towards being of use was when some of +our children had small-pox and were put up in a half-finished +room which was being built. "It has walls and it has a roof, +therefore it is suitable," was Yosépu's opinion; and he offered +to nurse the children. One evening we heard a terrible noise; +it was like three cracked violins gone mad, all playing different +tunes at the same time. It was only Yosépu singing +hymns to the children. "For spiritual instruction is a thing +to be desired, and there is nothing so edifying as music."</p> + +<p>After this he announced his intention of becoming a +water-carrier. "Water is a pure thing and a necessity. +The young children demand much water if their bodies are +to be"—here followed Scriptural quotations meant in deepest +reverence. "I will be responsible for the baths of all the +babes." And from that time Yosépu has been responsible. +Solemnly from dawn to dusk, with breathing spaces for +meals and meditation, he stalks across from nurseries to +well and from well to nurseries. He is a man of few +smiles; but he is the cause of many, and we all feel +grateful to Yosépu for his goodness to us. Often on +melancholy days he comes and comforts us.</p> + +<p>It was so one anxious day before we went to the hills, +when we were trying to plan for the safety of our family. +We can only take a limited number of converts with us, and +no babies; the difficulty is then which to take, which to hide, +and which to leave in the nurseries. We were in the midst +of this perplexity when Yosépu arrived. He stood in silence, +and then sighed, as his cheerful custom is. We made the +usual inquiries as to his health, physical and spiritual. Both +soul and body (his invariable order, never body and soul) +were well, he said; his pulse did not need to be felt to-day: +no, there was something weightier upon his mind. There are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +times when it is like extracting a tooth to get a straight +answer from Yosépu, for he resents directness in speech; +he thinks it barbarous. At last it came. "Aiyo! Aiyo!" +(Alas! Alas!) "My sun has set; but who am I, that I should +complain or assault the decrees of Providence? But Amma! +remember the word of truth: 'Then shall ye bring down +my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave.'" And he slowly +unwound his wisp of a turban, held it in his folded hands, +and shook down his lanky, jet-black locks with a pathos +that was almost sublime.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 384px;"> +<img src="images/illus-28.jpg" width="384" height="550" alt="THE BELOVED TINGALU." title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE BELOVED TINGALU.</span> +</div> + +<p>It took time to pierce to the meaning of it: the children +were being scattered—the reason must be that we felt the +bath-water carrying too much for his powers through the hot +weeks. It was not so! He was strong to draw and to bear. +The babies should never be deprived of their baths! But +to-day as he went to the well he had heard what broke his +heart; and he laid his hand upon the injured organ, and +sighed with a sigh that assured us his lungs at least were +sound. "<i>Tingalu</i> is to go away! The apple of my eye! that +golden child who smiles upon me, and says, 'Oh, elder brother, +good morning!' You are not going to leave her with me! +Therefore spake I the word of truth concerning my grey +hairs." Then quoting the text again, he turned and walked +away.</p> + +<p>Once the beloved Tingalu was slightly indisposed. She has +not often the privilege of being ill, and so, when the opportunity +offers, she does the invalid thoroughly; it would be +a pity, Tingalu thinks, to be anything but correct. But +Yosépu was much concerned. He appeared in the early +morning with his usual cough and sigh. "Amma! Tingalu +is ill!" "She will soon be better, Yosépu; she is having +medicine." "What sort of medicine, Amma?" and Yosépu +mentioned the kind he thought suitable. "That is exactly +what she has had; you will see her playing about to-morrow."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +"But no smile is on her face to-day; I fear for the babe." +(Tingalu never smiles when ill. Invalids should not smile.) +Yosépu suggested another medicine to supplement the first, +and departed.</p> +<div class="sidenote">I will pay for it</div> + +<p>Next morning he came again, anxious and cast down in +countenance. I had to keep him waiting; and when I came +out, he was standing beside my verandah steps, head on one +side, eyes shut, hands folded as if in prayer. "Well, Yosépu, +what is it?" "Amma! the light of your eyes revives me!" +"Well, tell me the trouble." "All yesterday I saw you not; +it was a starless night to me!" This is merely the preface. +"But, Yosépu, what is wrong?" "Tingalu, that golden child +with a voice like a bird, she lies on her mat. I am concerned +about the babe," (Tingalu, turned four, is as hardy as a gipsy), +"I fear for her delicate interior. Those ignorant children" +(the convert nurses would have been pleased if they had heard +him) "know nothing at all. It may be they will feed her +with curry and rice this morning. That would be dangerous. +Amma! Let her have bread and milk, <i>and I will pay +for it!</i>"</p> + +<p>Yosépu came a few days ago with a request for a doll. +"Who for?" "For myself." "But are you going to play +with it?" Yosépu acknowledged he was, and he wished it +to have genuine hair, a pink silk frock, and eyes that would +open and shut. We had not anything so elaborate to give +him, and he had to be contented with a black china head and +painted eyes; but he was pleased, and took it away carefully +rolled up in his turban, which serves conveniently for head-gear, +towel, scarf, and duster. When and where he plays +with the doll no one knows, but he assures us he does; and +we have mentally reserved the first pink silk, with eyes that +will open and shut, that a benevolent public sends to us, for +Yosépu. . . . The words were hardly written when a shadow +fell across the paper, and the unconscious subject of this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +chapter remarked as I looked up: "1 Corinthians vii. 31." +"Do you want anything, Yosépu?" "Amma! 1 Corinthians +vii. 31." "Well, Yosépu?" "As it is written in that chapter, +and that verse: 'The fashion of this world passeth away.' +Amma, if within the next two months a visitor comes to +Dohnavur carrying a picture-catching box, I desire that you +arrange for the catching of my picture. This, Amma, is my +desire."</p> + +<p>The Western mind is very dense; and for a moment +I could not see the connection between the text and the +photograph. Yosépu is never impatient. He squatted down +beside me, dropped his turban round his neck, held his left +foot with his left hand, and emphasised his explanation with +his right.</p> + +<p>"Amma, the wise know that life is uncertain. I am a +frail mortal. You, who are as mother and as father to this +unworthy worm, would feel an emptiness within you if I +were to depart." "But, Yosépu, I hope you are not going to +depart." This was exactly what Yosépu had anticipated. He +smiled, then he sighed. "Amma! did I not say it before? +1 Corinthians vii. 31: 'The fashion of this world passeth away.' +Therefore I said, Let me have my picture caught, so that +when I depart you may hang it on your wall and still +remember me."</p> +<div class="sidenote">Within me pulled the Strings of Love</div> + +<p>Yosépu's latest freak has been to take a holiday. "My +internal arrangements are disturbed; composure of mind will +only be obtained by a month's respite from secularities." +Yosépu had once announced his intention of offering himself +to the National Missionary Society, and we thought +he now referred to becoming an ascetic for a month and +wandering round the country, begging-bowl in hand; for he +solemnly declared as he stroked his bony frame: "The Lord +will provide." But his intention was a real holiday. He +would go and see the brother who had beaten him, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +forgive him. We suggested the brother might beat him +again. He smiled at our want of faith, and went for his +holiday. A month was the time agreed upon, but within +three days he was back. He could not stay away, he +explained, with a shame-faced air of affection. "Within me +pulled the strings of love; pulled, yea, pulled till I returned." +Faithful, quaint, and wholly original Yosépu! He calls +himself our servant, but we think of him as our friend.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>The Menagerie</h3> + +<div class='poem'> +Fate which foresaw<br /> +How frivolous a baby man would be—<br /><br /><br /> +</div> + + +<div class="figright" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/illus-29.jpg" width="350" height="500" alt="TWO VIEWS OF LIFE." title="" /> +<span class="caption">TWO VIEWS OF LIFE.</span> +</div> + +<div class='cap'>THE event of the week, from a Tamil point of view, +is the midday Sunday service; so we take care of +the nurseries during that hour, and send all grown-up +life to church. In the Prémalia nursery the babies +range from a few days old to eighteen months, and +sometimes two years. There is a baby for every mood, as +one beloved of the babies says; and the babies seem to know +it. We have a lively time there on Sundays; for by noon +the morning sleep is over, and nineteen or twenty babies are +waking up one after the other or all together. And most +of them want something, and want it at once.</div> + +<p>These babies are of various dispositions and colour—nut-brown, +biscuit, and buff; and there are two who, taken +together, suggest chocolate-cream. Chocolate is a dear child, +very good-tempered and easy to manage. Cream is a +scamp. We see in her another Chellalu, and watch with +mingled feelings her vigorous development.</p> + +<p>Chocolate has another name. It is Beetle. This does not +sound appreciative, but Beetle is beloved. The name was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +discovered by her affectionate Piria Sittie, who came upon +her one morning lying on her back in the swinging cot, +kicking her four limbs in the air in the agitated manner of +that insect unexpectedly upset. But no beetle ever smiled +as ours does.</p> + +<p>Cream, whose real name is Nundinie, oftener called +Dimples, because she dimples so when she laughs, is a baby +of character. She early discovered her way to the bungalow, +and scorning assistance or superintendence found her +way over as soon as she could walk. Afternoon tea is never +a sombre meal, for the middle-aged babies attend it in relays +of four or five; and Dimples and her special chum, Lulla, +like to arrive in good time for the full enjoyment of the +function. Dimples sits down properly in a high chair close +beside her Attai, who, according to her view of matters, was +created to help her to sugar. Lulla, so as to be even nearer +that exhaustless delight, insists upon her Attai's knee; and +tapping her face with her very small fingers, immediately +points to the sugar bowl.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Diversions</div> + +<p>These preliminaries over, Dimples sets herself to pay for +her seat. She smiles upon her Attai first, then upon all the +company. If the Iyer is present, she notices him kindly: +there is nothing in all nature so patronising as a baby. If +in the mood, she will imitate her friends like her predecessor +Scamp No. 1; or folding her fat arms will regard us all with +a quizzical expression more comical than play. Her latest +invention is drill. She stands straight up in her chair, and +goes through certain actions intended to represent as much +as she knows of that interesting exercise. We are kept +anxious lest she should overbalance; but she is a wary babe, +and always suddenly sits down when she gets to the edge +of a tumble. Sometimes, however, when these diversions +are in progress, we have wished that the family could see +how very much more entertaining she is in her own nursery.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +There, from the beginning of the day till the sad moment +when it ends, she seems to be engaged in entertaining somebody. +Sometimes it is one of the Accals, those good elder +sisters to whom the babies owe so much. Dimples thinks +she looks tired. Tired people must be cheered, so Dimples +devotes herself to her. Sometimes it is another baby who +is dull. Dull babies are anomalies. Dimples feels responsible +till the dull baby revives. Or it is just her own happy +little self who is being entertained. If ever a baby enjoyed +a game for its own sweet sake, it is Dimples.</p> + +<p>But one thing she does not enjoy, and that is being put +to bed at night. Our babies are anointed with oil, according +to the custom of the East, before being put to sleep; but +the moment Dimples sees the oil-bottle in her nurse's hand, +she knows her fate is sealed and protests with all her might. +Once she contrived to seize the bottle, pull out the cork, +and spill the oil before she was discovered. She seemed to +argue that as she was invariably oiled before being put to +bed, the best way to avoid ever being put to bed would be +to get rid of the oil. Another evening she succeeded in +diverting her nurse into a long search for the cork, thereby +delaying the fatal last moment; it was finally found in her +mouth. When, in spite of all efforts to wriggle out of +reach, she is captured, anointed, and put in her hammock, +Dimples knows she must not get out; but her wails are so +lamentable that it is difficult to restrain ourselves from +throwing discipline to the winds, and if by any chance we +do, her smiles are simply ravishing. But we hear about it +afterwards.</p> + +<p>If Dimples is asleep when we take charge of the nursery, +we find things fairly quiet and almost flat. But she usually +wakens early, and always in a good temper. It is instructive +to see the way she scrambles out of her hammock +before she is quite awake, and her sleepy stagger across the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +room is often interrupted by a tumble. Dimples does not +mind tumbles. If her curly head has been rather badly +knocked, she looks reproachfully at the floor, rubs her head, +and gets up again. By the time she reaches us she is wide +awake and most engaging.</p> + +<p>In C. F. Holder's <i>Life of Agassiz</i> we are told that +the great scientist "could not bear with superficial study: +a man should give his whole life to the object he had +undertaken to investigate. He felt that desultory, isolated, +spasmodic working avails nothing, but curses with narrowness +and mediocrity." This is exactly the view of one of +our babies, already introduced, the little wise Lulla, who +always knows her own mind and sticks to her intentions, +unbeguiled by any blandishments.</p> + +<p>This baby is a tiny thing, with a round, small head, +covered with soft, small curls; and this head is very full of +thoughts. Her face, which she rarely shows to a stranger, +is like a doll in its delicate daintiness; but the mouth is +very resolute, and the eyes very grave. Her hands and feet +are sea-shell things of a pretty pinky brown, and her ways +are the ways of a sea-anemone in a pool among the +rocks.</p> + +<p>Lulla, because of her anemone ways, is sometimes unkindly +called "Huffs." She does not understand that there +are days when those who love her most have little time +to give to her. Lulla naturally argues that where there +is a will there is a way, and desultory, isolated, spasmodic +affection is worth little; so next time her friend appears, +she explains all this to her by means of a single gesture: +she draws her tentacles in.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Agassiz</div> + +<p>But it is when Lulla has undertaken to investigate a +tin of sweets that she most suggests Agassiz. The tin has +a lid which fits tightly, and Lulla's fingers are very small +and not very strong. The tin, moreover, is on the window-sill<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +just out of reach, though she stands on tip-toe and +stretches a little eager hand as far as it will go. Then +it is you see persistence. Lulla finds another baby, leads +her to the window and points up to the tin. The other +baby tries. They both try together; if this fails, Lulla finds +a taller one, and at last successful, sits down with the tin +held tightly in both hands, and turns it over and shakes +it. This process seems to inspire fresh hope and energy; +for she sets to work round the lid, which is one of the +fitting-in sort, and carefully presses and pulls. Naturally +this does nothing, and she shakes the tin again. The joyful +sound of rattling sweets stimulates to fresh attempts upon +the lid. She tugs and pulls, and thumps the refractory +thing on the floor. By this time the other babies, attracted +by the hopeful rattle, have gathered round and are watching +operations; some offer to help, but all such offers are +declined. This oyster is Lulla's. She has undertaken to +force it. Agassiz and his fishes are on her side. She will +not give it up. But she is not getting on; and she sits +still for a moment, knitting her brow, and frowning a little +puzzled frown at the refractory tin.</p> + +<p>Suddenly her forehead smooths, the anxious brown eyes +smile, Lulla has thought a new good thought. The babies +struggle up and offer to help Lulla up, but she shakes +her head. She seems to feel if she herself unaided, of her +own free will, hands her problem over to her Ammal or +her Sittie, only so she may achieve her purpose without +loss of self-respect.</p> + +<p>Lulla's beloved nurse is a motherly woman, older than +most of our workers. Her name is Annamai. When the +nurses return from church, each makes straight for her +baby; and the babies always respond with a cordial and +pretty affection. But Lulla welcoming Annamai is something +more than pretty. The big white-robed figure no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +sooner appears in the garden than the tiny Lulla is all +a-quiver with excitement. But it is a quiet excitement; and +if you take any notice, the tentacles suddenly draw in, +and the little face is as wax. If no one seems to notice, +then Lulla lets herself go. She all but dances in her eagerness, +while Annamai is slowly sailing up the walk; and +when she reaches the verandah, Lulla can wait no longer; +one spring and she is in her arms, nestling, cuddling, +burying her curls in her neck; then looking up confidentially, +little Lulla begins to talk; everything we have done and +said is being whispered into Annamai's ear. It does not +matter that Lulla cannot yet speak any language known +to men; she can make Annamai understand, and that is +all she cares. Once we remember watching her, as she took +the remnant of a sweet we had given her, out of her +mouth and poked it into Annamai's. Could love do more?</p> + +<p>Dimples and Lulla are quite inseparable. Lulla is to +Dimples what Tara is to Evu. She immensely admires her +vigorous little junior, and tries to copy her whenever +possible. One delicious game seems to have been suggested +by the arches in the garden. Dimples and Lulla stand on +all fours close together. Then they lean over till their +heads touch the ground, and look through the arch. If +you are on the babies' level (that is on the floor), you will +enjoy this game.</p> + +<p>Another Sunday morning entertainment is kissing. +Dimples advances upon Lulla. Lulla falls upon Dimples. +Then Dimples hugs Lulla, nearly chokes her, almost certainly +overturns her. The two roll over and over like kittens. +Dimples seizes Lulla by her curls and vehemently kisses face, +neck, and anything else she can get at; and then backs off, +propelling herself on two feet and one hand, in which position +she looks like a puppy on three paws. Lulla smooths her +ruffled curls and person generally, regards Dimples with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +gravity, and, if in an affectionate humour herself, leads the +attack upon Dimples, and the programme is repeated.</p> + +<p>But the joy of the hour is to spin in the hammocks. These +contrivances being hung from the roof swing freely, and the +special excitement is to hold on with both hands, and run +round so that the hammock twists into a knot and spins when +released, with the baby inside it, in a giddy waltz till the coil +untwists itself. This looks dangerous, and when the game +was first invented we rather demurred. But we are wiser +now, and we let them spin. Lulla especially enjoys this +madness. It is startling to see the tiny thing whirl like a +reckless young teetotum. But if you weakly interfere, Lulla +thinks you want to learn the art, and goes at it with even +madder zest, till her very curls are dizzy.</p> +<div class="sidenote">"Daren't laugh and wouldn't cry</div> + +<p>Dimples and Lulla in disgrace are a piteous spectacle. +Dimples opens her mouth till it is almost square, and the most +plaintive wail proceeds from it for about a minute and a half. +Then she stops, looks sadly on the world, surprised and hurt at +its unkindness to her, and then suddenly she discovers something +interesting to do; and hastily rubbing her knuckles into +her eyes to clear them as quickly as maybe of tears, she +scrambles on to her feet, and forgets her injuries. Once she +had been very naughty, and had to be smacked. It is never +easy to smack Dimples, and fortunately she seldom requires +it; but hard things have to be done, so that morning the fat +little hands, to their surprise, knew the feel of chastening pats. +"She daren't laugh, and she wouldn't cry"; this description, +her Piria Sittie's, is the best I can offer of that baby's +attitude. The thing could not possibly be a joke, but if +meant otherwise, it was an indignity far past tears.</p> + +<p>Lulla is quite different. She drops on the floor, if admonished, +as if her limbs had suddenly become paralysed, and +takes absolutely no notice of the offending disciplinarian. +She simply ignores her, and gazes mutely beyond her. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +offence is not one for explanation, and if invited to repent, her +aloofness of demeanour is perfectly withering. But take her up +in your arms, and she buries her curls in your neck, and coos +her apologies (or is it forgiveness?) in your ear, and loves you +all the better for the momentary breach.</p> + +<p>Our babies are often parables. Lulla stands for the Single +Eye. How often we have watched her and learned the lesson +from her! She sees someone to whom she wants to go at what +must seem to her an immense distance. And the distance is +filled with obstacles, some of them quite enormous. But Lulla +never stops to consider possibilities. Difficulties are simply +things to be climbed over. She looks at the goal and makes +straight for it. Her only care is to reach it. Sometimes at +afternoon tea, when she is sitting on someone's lap, facing an +empty, uninteresting plate, she sees another plate three chairs +distant, and upon that plate there is a biscuit or some other +sweet attraction. Upon such occasions Lulla all but plunges +into space between the chairs, in her singleness of purpose. +Having reached the lap nearest that plate, she turns and +smiles at her late entertainer just to make sure she is not +offended. But even if she knew she would be, Lulla would not +hesitate. Curly head foremost, eyes on the goal: that is Lulla.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Mixed pickles</div> + +<p>We have a custom at Dohnavur which perplexes the sober-minded. +We call most of our possessions by names other than +their own. These names are entirely private. We have to +keep to this rule of privacy, otherwise we get shocks. "O +Lord, look upon our beloved Puppy, and make her tooth +come through; and bless Alice (in Wonderland), whose inside +has gone wrong," was the petition offered in all seriousness, +which finally moved us to prudence. We do not feel +responsible for these names, for they come of themselves, and +we see them when they come. That is all we have to do +with them. Besides the Beetle and the Sea-anemone we have +a dear Cockatoo, who screws her nose and her whole face<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +up into a delightful pucker when she either laughs or cries, +and then suddenly unscrews it in the middle of either +emotion and looks entirely demure. This is the little +Vimala, who, under God, owes her life to her Piria Sittie's +splendid nursing. This baby has always got a private little +secret of joy hidden away somewhere inside. We surprise +her sometimes, sitting alone on the floor talking to herself +about it; and then she tells us bits of it—as much as she +thinks we can understand. But most of it is still hidden +away, her own private little secret. And there is an Owlet, +a Coney, a Froglet, and a Cheshire Cat, a Teddy-bear, a +Spider, a Ratlet, and a Rosebud. We are aware that this +list is rather mixed; but to be too critical would end in +being nothing, so we are a Menagerie.</p> + +<p>The Rosebud is like her name, small and sweet. When she +wants to kiss her friends, which is whenever she sees them, +her mouth is like the pink point of a moss-rose bud just +coming through the moss. George Macdonald, perfect interpreter +of babies, must have had our Preethie's double in his +mind when he wrote:—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss?<br /> +Three angels gave me at once a kiss.<br /> +How did you come to us, you dear?<br /> +God thought of you, and so I am here.<br /> +</div> + +<p>The Owlet is twin to that quaint little bird, so its name +flew to her and stayed. This babe has round eyes with long +curling lashes. When she is good, these round eyes beam, and +every one forgets that anything so fascinating can ever be +other than good. When she is naughty the case is exactly +reversed. This baby's proper name is Lullitha, which means +Playfulness, and illustrates a side of her character undiscovered +by the visitor who only sees the Owlet sitting on her +perch with serious, watchful, unblinking eyes, regarding the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +intruder. But most babies are complex characters, and are +not known in an hour.</p> + +<p>The Teddy-bear is a fine child with perfect lungs, a +benevolent smile, and an appetite. Her ruling passion at +present is devotion to her food. She feels unjustly treated +because we do not see our way to feed her lavishly at her +own five meal-times and also at the meal-times of all the +other babies in the nursery.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Teddy</div> + +<p>On Sunday morning, when we are in charge, we hear her +views upon this subject expressed in a manner wholly her +own. She has just drained her own bottle, and is indignantly +explaining that it is not nearly enough, when another bottle +arrives for another baby, and this is too much for Teddy's +equanimity. We all know how hard it is to keep up under +the shock of adversity. Teddy does not attempt to keep +up; she invariably topples over. But the way she does this +is instructive. She sits stiff and straight for one brief +moment, her milky mouth wide open, her hands outstretched +in despairing appeal; then she clasps her head with her hands +in a tragic fashion, absurd in a very fat infant, sways backwards +and forwards two or three times till the desperate +rock ends suddenly, as the poor Teddy-bear overbalances and +bursts with a mighty burst. But the storm is too furious to +last, and she soon subsides with a gusty sob and a short +snort.</p> + +<p>Poor little injured Teddy-bear! If it were not for her +splendid health we might believe her oft-repeated tale of +private starvation. "They only feed me when you are here to +see! Other times they give me nothing at all!" She tells us +this frequently in her own particular language, but the sturdy +limbs belie it. This babe in matters of affection and mischief +is as strenuous and original as she is about the one supreme +affair pertaining to her elastic receptacle—to quote a Tamil +friend's polite reference to the cavity within us—and many<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +more edifying scenes might have been shown from her +eventful life. But undoubtedly the predominating note at +the present hour is her insatiable hunger, and when her name +is mentioned in the nursery there is a smile and a new tale +about her amazing appetite.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>More Animals</h3> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-30.jpg" width="550" height="384" alt="MORE ANIMALS: DEPRESSED. Nurses: Karuna to left (the Duckling of "Things as They Are"); and Annamai, to right, Lulla's beloved." title="" /> +<span class="caption">MORE ANIMALS: DEPRESSED.<br />Nurses: Karuna to left (the Duckling of "Things as They Are"); and Annamai, to right, Lulla's beloved.</span> +<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='cap'>IN full contrast to Teddy-bear is that floppy child, the Coney. +In Hart's <i>Animals of the Bible</i>, there is a picture of this +baby, only the fore-paws should be raised in piteous appeal +to be taken up. The Coney is really a pretty child with pathetic +eyes and a grateful smile; but she was long in learning to +walk, and felt aggrieved when we remonstrated. Her feet, she +considered, were created to be ornamental rather than useful, +and no amount of coaxing backed up with massage could +persuade her otherwise. So she was left behind in the march; +and when her contemporaries departed for the middle-aged +babies' nursery, she stayed behind with the infants. And the +infants had no pity. They regarded her as a sort of hassock, +large and soft and good to jump on. More than once we have +come into the nursery and found the big, meek child of three +kneeling resignedly under a window upon which an adventurous +eighteen-months wished to climb; and often we have +found her prostrate and patient under the dancing feet of +Dimples.</div> + +<p>However, the Coney can walk now. This triumph was +effected with the help of an Indianised go-cart, which did what +all our persuasions had entirely failed to do. But the process +was not pleasant. The poor Coney would stand mournfully<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +holding the handle of her instrument of torture, longing with +a yearning unspeakable to sit down and give it up for ever. +Someone would pass, and hope would rise in her heart. She +would be carried now, carried out of sight of that detested +go-cart. But no, the callous-hearted only urged her to proceed. +She would howl then with a howl that told of bitter disappointment. +Sometimes she would sit down flat and regard +the thing with a blighting glance, the hatred of a gentle +nature roused to unwonted vehemence. Always her wails +accompanied the rumbling of its wheels.</p> + +<p>"The Conies are but a feeble folk, yet they make their +houses in the rocks." One day in deep depression of spirits +the Coney arrived at the kindergarten. She sat down before +the threshold, which is three inches high, and climbed carefully +over it. She found herself in a new world, where +babies were doing wonderful things and enjoying all they +did. The Coney decided to join a class, and was offered beads +to thread. Life with beautiful beads to thread became worth +living, and it may be in the course of time that the tortoise +will overtake the hare. In any case we find much cheer +in the conclusion of the verse, for if our Coney builds in +the Rock her being rather feeble will not matter very +much.</p> + +<p>Those who possess that friend of our youth, <i>Alice</i>, as +illustrated by Sir John Tenniel, may find the photograph +twice reproduced of our fat Cheshire Cat. This baby is remarkable +for two things: she smiles and she vanishes. The +time to see the vanishing conducted with more celerity than +Alice ever saw it, is when the babies' warning call is sounded +across the verandah and a visitor appears in the too near +horizon. This baby then vanishes round the nearest corner. +There is nothing left of her, not even a smile. In fact, the +chief contrast between her and the cat among the foliage is +that with our Cat the smile goes first.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> +<div class="sidenote">"Beetle! Open your mouth!"</div> + +<p>Sunday morning, to return to the beginning, is full of +possible misadventure. Sometimes the babies seem to agree +among themselves that it would be well to be good. Then +their admiring Sittie and Ammal have nothing to do but +enjoy them. But sometimes it is otherwise. First one baby +pulls her sister's hair, and the other retaliates, till the two get +entangled in each other's curls. Piria Sittie flies to the rescue, +disentangles the combatants and persuades them to make +friends. Meanwhile three restless spirits in bodies to match +have crept out through the open door (it is too hot if we +shut the doors), and we find them comfortably ensconced in +forbidden places. The Beetle is a quiet child. She retires +to a corner and looks devout. Presently a sound as of scraping +draws our attention to her. "Beetle! Open your mouth!" +Beetle opens her mouth. It is packed with whitewash off +the wall. Then a scared cry rings through the nursery, and +all the babies, imagining awful things imminent, tumble +one on top of the other in a wild rush into refuge. It +is only a large grasshopper which has startled the Cheshire +Cat, whose great eyes are always on the look-out for possible +causes of panic. The grasshopper is banished to the garden +and the Cheshire Cat smiles all over her face. Peace restored, +Dimples and the Owlet remember a dead lizard they found +in a corner of the verandah, and set off to recover it. These +two walk exactly like mechanical toys; and as they strut +along hand in hand, or one after the other, they look like +something wound up and going, in a Christmas shop window. +Presently they return with the lizard. Its tail is loose, and +they sit down to pull it off. This is not a nice game, and +something else is suggested. Dimple's mouth grows suddenly +square; she wants that lizard's tail.</p> + +<p>Then a dear little child called Muff (because she ought to +be called Huff if the name had not been already appropriated), +who has been solemnly munching a watch, decides<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> +it is time to demand more individual attention. She objects +to the presence of another baby on her Sittie's lap. Why +should two babies share one lap? The thing is self-evidently +wrong. One lap, one baby, should be the rule in +all properly conducted nurseries. Muff broods over this in +silence, then slides off the crowded lap and sits down disconsolate, +alone. Tears come, big sad tears, as Muff meditates; +and it takes time to explain matters and comfort, +without giving in to the one-lap-one-baby theory.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-31.jpg" width="550" height="386" alt="TUBBING." title="" /> +<span class="caption">TUBBING.</span> +</div> + +<p>We have several helpful babies. Dimples has been discovered +paying required attentions to things smaller than +herself; and the Wax Doll pats the Rosebud if she thinks it +will reassure her, when (as rarely happens) that pet of the +family is left stranded on a mat. But Puck is the most inventive. +It was one happy Sunday morning that we came +upon her feeding the Ratlet on her own account. The Ratlet +was making ungrateful remarks; and we hurried across to +her and saw that Puck, under the impression doubtless that +any hole would do, was pouring the milk in a steady stream +down the poor infant's nose. Puck smiled up peacefully. +She was sure we would be pleased with her. But the Ratlet +continued eloquent for very many minutes.</p> +<div class="sidenote">The Spider and the Cod-fish</div> + +<p>Sometimes (but this is an old story now) our difficulties +were increased by the Spider's habit of whimpering, which +had a depressing effect upon the family. This poor baby +was a weak little bag of bones when first she came to us. +The bag was made of shrivelled skin of a dusty brown colour. +Her hair was the colour of her skin, and hung about her +head like tattered shreds of a spider's web. She sat in a +bunch and never smiled. Something about her suggested a +spider. Her Tamil name is Chrysanthemum, which by the +change of one letter becomes Spider. So we called her +Spider.</p> + +<p>At first we were not anxious about her; for such little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +children pick up quickly if they are healthy to begin with, +as we believed she was. But she did not respond to the good +food and care, and only grew thinner and more miserable as +the weeks passed, till she looked like the first picture in a +series of advertisements of some marvellous patent food, +and we wondered if she would ever grow like the fat and +flourishing last baby of the series. For two months this +state of things continued; she grew more wizened every day; +and the uncanny spider-limbs and attitude gave her the air +of not being a human baby at all, but a terrible little specimen +which ought not to be on view but should be hidden +safely away in some private medical place—on a shelf in a +bottle of spirits of wine.</p> + +<p>We are asked sometimes if such tiny things can suffer +other than physically. We have reason to think they can. +As all else failed, we took a little girl from school for whom +the Spider had an affection, and let her love her all day long; +and almost at once there was a change in the sad little face +of the Spider. She had been cared for by an old grandfather +after her mother's death, and it seemed as if she had fretted +for him and needed someone all to herself to make up for +what she was missing.</p> + +<p>This little girl, the Cod-fish by name, was devoted to the +Spider. She nestled her and played with her—or attempted +to, I should say, for at first the Spider almost resented any +attempts to play. "She doesn't know how to smile!" said +the Cod-fish disconsolately after a week's petting and loving +had resulted only in fewer whimpers, but not as yet in smiles. +A few days later she came to us, and announced with much +emotion: "She has smiled three times!" Next day the record +rose to seven; after that we left off counting.</p> + +<p>The Spider is fat and bonnie now. Her skin is a clear +and creamy brown, and her hair has lost its dustiness; but +she still likes to sit crumpled up, and a small alcove in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +kitchen is her favourite haven when tired of the world. +Seen unexpectedly in there, bunched in a tight knot, her +dark, keen little eyes peering out of the light-coloured little +face, she still suggests a spider. But it is a cheerful Spider, +which makes all the difference.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>The Parrot House</h3> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-32.jpg" width="550" height="385" alt="RED LAKE AND HILL. As seen (without the water) from the Taraha Nursery." title="" /> +<span class="caption">RED LAKE AND HILL.<br />As seen (without the water) from the Taraha Nursery.</span> +<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='cap'>THE time to see the Taraha nursery at its best is +between late evening and early morning, and again +about noon. It is perfectly peaceful then. Thirty +mats are spread upon the floor. Thirty babies are strewn +upon the mats. All the thirty are asleep. A sleeping baby +is good. Thirty babies all good at once is something we +cannot promise at any other hour.</div> + +<p>Shading your lantern, and walking carefully so as not to +tread on more scattered limbs than may be, you wander +round the nursery and meditate upon the beautiful ways +of childhood. There is something so touching in sleeping +innocence, and you are touched. Here two chubby babies +are lying locked in each other's arms. You have to look +twice before you see which limbs belong to which. There +another is hugging a doll minus its head. Next to her a +baby sleeps pillowed on another, and the other does not +mind. In the middle of the floor, far from her mat, a sturdy +three-year-old sprawls content. You pick her up gently +and lay her on her mat. With an expression of determined +resolution the baby rolls off again; and if you attempt +another remove, an ominous pucker of the forehead warns +you to desist. You wonder if the babies are quite as good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +as they seem. One of the dear, fat, devoted little pair you +noticed at first, stirs, disentangles herself from her neighbour, +and gives her a slight kick. There is a smothered, +sleepy howl, and the kick is returned. "Water!" wails the +first fat baby. "Water!" wails the second. You get water, +give it, pat both fat babies till they go to sleep, and then +cautiously retire. It would be a pity if all the babies were +to waken thirsty and kick each other. At the door you +turn and look back. Graceful babies, clumsy babies, babies +who lie extended like young pokers, babies curled like +kittens. All sorts of babies, good, bad, and middling, but all +blessedly asleep.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sleep, baby, sleep!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thy father guards his sheep,</span><br /> +Thy mother shakes the dreamland-tree<br /> +Down fall the little dreams for thee,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sleep, baby, sleep!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sleep, baby, sleep!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Our Saviour loves His sheep.</span><br /> +He is the Lamb of God on high,<br /> +Who for our sakes came down to die.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sleep, baby, sleep!</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>The pretty German lullaby rises unbidden, and is pushed +away by the quick, sad thoughts that will not listen to it. +For under all the laughter and nursery frolic and happiness, +we cannot but remember why these little ones are here. +Round about the compound in a great triangle there are +three Temple towers. They are out of sight though near +us, but we cannot forget they are there. They stand for +that which deprives these children of their birthright. Oh +for the day when those Temple towers will fall and the +reign of righteousness begin! There was a time when it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +seemed impossible to desire that the fire should be allowed +to touch the stately and beautiful things of the world. +Now there is something that satisfies as nothing else could +in the vision of that purifying fire; and the promise that +stands out like a light in the darkness is that which tells +that the Son of Man shall send forth His angels, and they +shall gather out of His kingdom, all things that offend.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Higher Critics</div> + +<p>In the tiny babies' nursery many a crooning Indian +lullaby is sung to the babies in their swinging white +cradles; but in the Taraha nursery we sing sweet old hymns, +in Tamil and English, and then all sensible people are +supposed to go to sleep. But one evening after the singing, +two little tots settled down for a talk. Said one lying +comfortably on her back with her two hands clasped behind +her head: "Who takes care of us at night when we all +go to sleep?" Said the other in a mixture of Tamil and +English: "Jesus-tender-Shepherd takes care of us—Jesus-loves-me-this-I-know." +The first baby rolled over upon her +small sister with a crow of derision. "It is not! It is +Accal! I woke one night and saw her!" The other baby +insisted she was making a mistake. "Accal sleeps, all people +sleep; they lie down like us and go to sleep. Only Jesus +stays awake, and never, never goes to sleep." "Never, +never?" questioned the first, and was quiet for a minute +considering the matter; then with a sceptical little laugh, +"Did you ever wake up and see Him?"</p> + +<p>If the babies were always in a state of calm repose, the +Taraha's pet name, Parrot-house, would be inappropriate: +but for nearly ten hours of the day they are awake and +talkative. Talk, however, is a mild word by which to +describe their powers of conversation. Sometimes we wonder +if they never tire of chattering, and then we remember they +have only lately learned to talk. They have not had time +to tire.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-33.jpg" width="550" height="380" alt="CHILDREN WADING" title="" /> +<span class="caption">CHILDREN WADING</span> +</div> + +<p>Once we listened, hoping that the trailing clouds of glory +so recently departed had left some trace of illumination in +this their first expression in earth's language of their feelings +and emotions. But we found them very mundane. Most of +the conversation concerned their "saman," a comprehensive +Indian word used by people with limited vocabularies to +express all manner of things to play with. Their "saman" +was various. Dolls, of course, and the remnants of dolls; +tins and the lids thereof; bits of everything which could +break; corks, stones, seeds, half cocoa-nut shells; rags of +many ages and colours; scraped down morsels of brick; +withered flowers and leaves; sticks of all sorts and sizes; +English Christmas cards, sometimes with much domestic +information on the back; unauthorised sundries from the +kindergarten—delivered up with a smile intended to assure +you that they were only being kept for Sittie; and pûchies. +Pûchies are insects. We have one baby who collects pûchies. +"Look!" she said, one morning before prayers, "Deah little +five pûchies!" and she opened her hand and five red and +black beetles crawled slowly out, to the delight of the +devout, who scrambled up from their orderly rows with +shrieks of appreciation.</p> + +<p>But if the babies' conversation was unenlightening, their +chosen avocations are not uninteresting. They are always +busy about something, and, from their point of view, something +important. There are, of course, some among the +thirty who are unimaginative and unenterprising. These sit +in the sand and play. Others have more to do. Life to +them is full of the unknown. The unknown is full of +possibilities. The great thing is to experiment. Nothing is +too insignificant to explore, and all five senses are useful +to the thoroughly competent baby.</p> +<div class="sidenote">"Watching a Miracle"</div> + +<p>They knew, of course, all the flowers, and the discovery +of anything fresh was always followed by a scene which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +suggested a colony of small and active ants hauling some large +object to their nest; for the nearest grown-up person was +invariably hailed, and pulled, and pushed, and hurried along +till the "new flower" was reached. Then, if the object was +incautious enough to stoop down to examine it, the ants, +ant-wise, would envelope it, climbing, swarming all over it, +till there was nothing to be seen but ants.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-34.jpg" width="550" height="388" alt="CHILDREN WADING." title="" /> +<span class="caption">CHILDREN WADING.</span> +</div> + +<p>They knew the habits of caterpillars, and especially they +had knowledge about the wonderful silver chrysalis which +pins itself to the pointed leaves of the oleander. They +knew what was packed up inside, and some with wide-open +eyes had watched the miracle slowly evolving as the +butterfly unpacked itself, and sunned its crumpled velvet +wings, till the crumples smoothed, and the wings dried, and +the butterfly fluttered away. They knew, too, the less +approachable ways of the wild bees, and where they hive, +and what happens if they are disturbed; and they knew the +private feelings of calves, and which likes to be treated as a +brother and which resents such liberties. Crows they knew +intimately, and squirrels a little; for infants fallen from their +nests have often been taken care of, much against their foolish +wills, until old enough to look after themselves. Their namesakes, +the parrots, they knew very well; and the dainty little +sunbirds that flash from flower to flower like little living +jewels in the sunlight; and the clever tailor-bird, which sews +its own nest, knotting its thread like a grown-up human +being; and the wise leaf-insect that can hardly be found till +it moves; and the great, green, frisky grasshopper that +seems to invite a chase.</p> + +<p>We found they knew, alas, too much about the misuse of +everything growing in the field! The tamarind fruit makes +condiment, but eaten raw it gives fever; and the babies think +we are wrong here, and they are fond of forgetting our rules. +Many kinds of grasses are very good to eat; and here again<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +we are mistaken, for we know not the flavour of grasses. +Seeds may be useful to plant; but those who think their use +ends there, are short-sighted and ignorant people. Upon these +and other matters the babies feel we have much to learn.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-35.jpg" width="550" height="385" alt="ESLI AND LITTLE KOHILA. Taken a year earlier." title="" /> +<span class="caption">ESLI AND LITTLE KOHILA.<br />Taken a year earlier.</span> +</div> + +<p>One weird joy has been theirs, and they never will forget +it. For one whole blissful afternoon they followed the snake-charmer +about at a respectful distance; and they cannot understand +why we are not anxious they should dance as he danced, +and pipe as he piped, round the hopeful holes they discover in +the red mud walls.</p> + +<p>Other things they had learned to do, not wholly innocent. +They must have made friends with the masons who built their +new nursery, and persuaded them to do their work in a sympathetic +spirit; for they knew the weak points hidden from +our eyes, and how pleasant it is to scoop mortar out of cracks +between the bricks of the floor. They had learned how most +of their toys were made, and how a doll could be most easily +dissected, and the particular taste of its inside. They knew, +too, the lusciousness of divers sorts of sand—this last, however, +being a mixture of crime and disease, and treated as such, is +not a popular sin. Finally, to our lasting disgrace, they had +learned, after a series of thoughtful experiments, how best to +obey a command and yet elude its intention; thus on a wet +day, when they were commanded not to go out, their Sittie +found them lying full length in a long row on the edge of the +verandah, their heads protruding so as to catch the lovely +drip from the roof. And all these things they had carefully +learned in spite of a certain amount of supervision; and, being +entirely unsuspicious, they will take you into their confidence +and let you share the forbidden fruit, if you are so inclined.</p> +<div class="sidenote">The Kindness of the Babies</div> + +<p>But, after all, perfection of goodness would make us more +anxious than even these enormities; we should fear our babies +were growing too good—a fear not pressing at present. The +Parrot-house only overwhelms when the birds begin to sing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +Then indeed all who can, flee far away, for the babies once +started are difficult to stop. They are sure you like it as much +as they do, and are anxious to oblige you when you visit their +world. So they sing with the greatest earnestness, and as +they invariably hang on to every available part of you, and +punctuate their melodies with kisses and embraces, escape is +not always practicable.</p> + +<p>The Taraha nursery was our first substantial building. It +is built upon foundations raised well off the ground, and has +a wide verandah. When first it was opened and the children +were invited to take possession, they did so most completely. +One quaint little person of barely three, called Kohila, whose +small, repressed face in the photograph gives no hint of +character, used to stalk up and down the verandah with an +air of proprietorship which left no doubt in any mind as to +her opinion on the subject. Another (sharing the swinging +cot with Kohila in the photo) sat on the top step and smiled +encouragingly to visitors. It was nice to be smiled at, but +there was something very condescending in the smile. Another +stood guard over the plants, which grew in pots much bigger +than herself all the way down the verandah. If any presumed +to touch them, she would dart out upon them with an indignant +chirrup. For days after the great event—the opening of +the Taraha—small parties waited on visitors, formed in procession +before and behind, and escorted them round, explaining +all mysteries, and insisting upon due admiration. Everything +had to be interviewed, from teaspoons to pots of fern. This +concluded, the guests were politely dismissed, and departed, +let us hope, properly penetrated with a sense of the kindness +of the babies.</p> + +<p>There have always been some who object to visitors. One +of these showed her objection, not by crying and running +away, as undignified babies do, but by sitting exactly where +she was when she first caught sight of the intruder, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> +staring straight into space with a very stony stare. A sensitive +visitor could hardly have had the temerity to pass her, +but normal visitors are not sensitive. Sometimes they +attempted to make friends. This was too much. One fat +arm would be slowly raised till it covered the baby's eyes, +and in this position she would sit like a small petrifaction, +till the horror had withdrawn.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-36.jpg" width="550" height="387" alt="PREETHA AWARE OF A FOE. Tara on the left: the Coney on the right." title="" /> +<span class="caption">PREETHA AWARE OF A FOE.<br />Tara on the left: the Coney on the right.</span> +</div> + +<p>This baby, Preetha by name, has in most matters a way of +her own. One of her little peculiarities is a strong preference +for solo music as compared with concert. She listens attentively +to others' performances, then disappears. If followed, +she will be found alone in a corner, with her face to the wall +and her back to the world; and if she thinks herself unobserved, +you will be regaled with a solo. This experience is +interesting to the musical. It is never twice alike. Sometimes +it is a succession of sounds, like a tune that has lost its +way; sometimes, a recognisable version of the chorus lately +learned. At other times she delivers her soul in a series of +short groans and grunts, beating time with her podgy hands. +If she perceives through the back of her head that someone is +looking or listening, she stops at once; and no persuasions can +ever produce that special rehearsal again. Of late this baby, +being now nearly three, has awakened to a sense of life's +responsibilities, and she evidently wishes to prepare to meet +them suitably. Yesterday evening she came to me with an +exceedingly serious face, pointed in the direction of the kindergarten +room, and then tapping herself, remarked: "Amma! I +kindergarten." No more was said; but we know we shall soon +see her solemnly waddling into the schoolroom, and we +wonder what will happen. Will she continue to insist upon +a corner to herself?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>The Bear Garden</h3> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-37.jpg" width="550" height="385" alt="JULLANIE AMONG THE GRASSES." title="" /> +<span class="caption">JULLANIE AMONG THE GRASSES.</span> +<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='cap'>"THE fruit of the lotus—a capsule—ripens below the +surface of the water. When the seeds are ripe and +leave the berry, a small bubble of air attached to +them brings them to the surface, and the seeds are carried +wherever the wind and waves take them until the bubble +bursts; when the seed, being heavier than water, sinks to the +bottom, and then begins to grow to form a new plant, which +may be at some distance from the parent one. In this simple +way the lotus plant is enabled to spread." So says our botany +book; and the thought of the lotus seed in its little air-boat +floating away over the water to be sown, perhaps, far from +the parent plant, is full of suggestion, and leads us straight to +the Bear-garden.</div> + +<p>A lotus-pool, a bear-garden—the connection is not obvious. +<i>Alice</i> in her wanderings never wandered into bewilderment +more profound than such a mixture of ideas. But this is +the way we get to it: We have called these little children +Lotus-buds—for such they are in their youngness and innocence; +and the underlying thought runs deeper, as those who +have read the first chapter know—but the Lotus-buds must +grow into flowers and must be sown as living seeds, perhaps +far away from the happy place they knew when they were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> +buds. The little air-boat will come for them. The breath of +the Spirit that bloweth where it listeth will carry them where +it will, and we want them to be ready to be sown wherever +the pools of the world are barren of lotus flowers. And this +brings us straight to the newest of our beginnings in Dohnavur—the +Kindergarten.</p> + +<p>An ideal kindergarten is a place where the teachers train +the scholars, and we hope to have that in time; at present the +case is opposite, and that is why it has its name, the name that +conflicts with the lotus-pool—the Bear-garden.</p> + +<p>In this peaceful room Classes B, C, and D have taken their +young teachers in hand—Rukma, Preena, and Sanda. Of +these Rukma (Radiance) has the clearest ideas about discipline; +Preena (the Elf) knows best how to coax; and +Sanda, excellent Mouse that she is, has the gift of patience. +These three (who after all are only school-girls, continuing +their own education with their Préma Sittie) are attempting +to instruct the babies on the lines of organised play; but the +babies feel they have much to teach their teachers, and this +is how they do it:—</p> + +<p>Préma Sittie goes into the room when the kindergarten is +in progress, and from three classes at once babies come +springing towards her with squeals of joy, and they clasp +her knees and look up with eyes full of affection and confidence +in their welcome. "Go back to your place!" she says, +and tries to look severe; with a chuckle the children obey, +and she looks round and takes notes.</p> + +<p>Chellalu is lying full-length on the bench, with a look of +supreme content on her face, and her two feet against the wall. +Pyârie has turned her back to the picture that is being shown, +and is tying a handkerchief round her head. Ruhinie, an +India-rubber-ball sort of baby, has suddenly bounced up from +her seat, and is starting a chorus, of which she is fond, at the +top of her not very gentle voice; and Komala, a perfect sprite,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +is tickling the child who sits next to her. "Sittie!" exclaims +the distracted teacher, "they won't learn anything!" Or if +she happens to be the Mouse, she is calmly engaged with the +one good child in her class.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Babel</div> + +<p>The next group is stringing beads on pieces of wire. "Look, +look!" and an eager babe holds out her wire for admiration, +and probably spills her beads in her effort to secure +attention. If she does, there is a general scramble, beads +rolling loose on the floor being quite irresistible. One wicked +baby sits by herself and strings her beads on her curls.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later it is mat-plaiting; and the agile little +fingers are diligently weaving pieces of blue and yellow +material, bits over from their elder sisters' garments, beautifully +unconscious that they are supposed to be working the +colours alternately. Sometimes in the gayest way they +exclaim: "Sittie! It's wrong! it's wrong!" Occasionally +there is a howl from a child who has been pinched by another, +or whose neighbour has helped herself to her beads. Sittie +crosses the room hurriedly. "What's the matter?" With +tears rolling down her cheeks the victim points to her oppressor. +"May you do that?" is the invariable English +question. It is answered by a shake of the head, the tiniest +baby understanding that particular remark. The injured +baby smiles. A reproof, or at worst a pat on the fat arm +next to hers, satisfies her sense of justice, and she is +content.</p> + +<p>When an English lesson begins, those afflicted with delicate +nerves are happier elsewhere. One class has a toy farmyard, +another a set of tea-things, the third a doll which every +member of the class is aching to embrace. The teachers and +children alike are inclined to talk with emphasis; and if you +stand between the three classes you hear queer answers to +queerer questions, and wonder if the babies at Babel were +anything like so bewildering.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p> + +<p>But this vision of the kindergarten is hardly a fortnight +old; for Classes B, C, and D are of recent development, and are +made up of some heedless characters, as Chellalu and Pyârie, +who could not keep up with class A, and a few more young +things from the nursery who were wilder than wild rabbits +from the wood when we began. Also it should be stated +that from the babies' point of view white people are only +playthings. "They were very good before you came!" is +the unflattering remark frequently addressed to us; and +as we discreetly retire, the babies do seem to become +suddenly beautifully docile. But even so they might be +better, as an unconscious comedy over-seen this morning +proves. I was in the porch outside the door, when Rukma, +pointing to a blackboard on which were written sundry words, +told Chellalu to show her "cat," and I looked in interested to +know if Chellalu really knew anything of reading. Chellalu +brandished the pointer, then turned to Rukma with a confidential +smile, "Cat? Where is it, Accal? Is it at the top or +at the bottom?" Rukma, who has a keen sense of the comic, +seemed to find it difficult to look as she felt she ought. +Chellalu caught the twinkle in her eye, and throwing herself +heartily into the spirit of the game, which was evidently +intended to be a kindergarten version of Hunt the Mouse +through the Wood, she searched the blackboard for cat. Then +to Rukma: "Accal! dear Accal! Tell <i>me</i>, and I'll tell <i>you!</i>"</p> + +<p>There is nothing that helps us so much to be good as to be +believed in and thought better than we are; and the converse +is true, so we do not want to be always suspecting Chellalu of +sin; but this last was entirely too artless, and this was +apparently Rukma's view, for she sent Chellalu back to her +seat and called up another baby, who, fairly radiating virtue, +immediately found the cat.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Compassions of the Wise</div> + +<p>The next room—which Class A (the first to be formed) +has to itself—is a haven of peace after the Bear-garden. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +is a pleasant room like the other, pretty with pictures and +with flowers. And the little bright faces make it a happy +place, for this class, though serious-minded, is exceedingly +cheerful. There is the demure little Tingalu, the good child +of the kindergarten, its hope and stay in troublous hours, +and the quaint little trio, Jeya, Jullanie, and Sella—this +last is called Cock-robin by the family, for she has eyes and +manners which remind us of the bird, and she hardly ever +walks, she hops. Mala and Bala are in the class, and a +lively scamp called Puvai.</p> + +<p>The kindergarten is worked in English, helped out with +Tamil when occasion requires. This plan, adopted for reasons +pertaining to the future of the children, is resulting in something +so comical that we shall be sorry when the first six +months are over and the babies grow correct. At present they +talk with delightful abandon impossible to reproduce, but very +entertaining to those who know both languages. They tack +Tamil terminations to English verbs, and English nouns make +subjects for Tamil predicates. They turn their sentences +upside down and inside out, and any way in fact which occurs +to them at the moment, only insisting upon one thing: you +must be made to understand. They apply everything they +learn as immediately as possible, and woe to the unwary +flounderer in the realm of natural science who offers an +explanation of any phenomena of nature other than that +taught in the kindergarten. The learned baby regards you +with a tender sort of pity. Poor thing, you are very ignorant; +but you will know better in time—if only you will come to +the kindergarten, the source of the fountain of knowledge.</p> + +<p>The ease and the quickness with which a new word is +appropriated constantly surprises us. As for example: one +morning two babies wandered round the Prayer-room, and, +discovering passion-flowers within reach, eagerly begged for +them in Tamil. One of the two pushed the other aside and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +wanted all the flowers. "Greedy! greedy!" I said reprovingly, +in English. "Greedy <i>mine!</i>" was the immediate rejoinder, and +the little hand was held out with more certainty than ever now +that the name of the flower was known. "Greedy <i>my</i> flower! +<i>Mine!</i>"</p> + +<p>But some of the quaintest experiences are when the +eloquent baby, determined to express herself in English, falls +back upon scraps of kindergarten rhyme and delivers it in +all seriousness. On the evening before my birthday I was +banished from my room, and the children decorated it +exactly as they pleased. When I returned I was implored +not to look at anything, as it was not intended to be seen +till next morning. Next morning the babies came in procession +with their elders, and while I was occupied with +them out on the verandah, Chellalu and her friend Naveena, +discovering something unusual in my room, escaped from the +ranks and went off to examine the mystery. I found them +a moment later gazing in astonished joy at the glories there +revealed. "Who did it all?" gasped Chellalu, whose intention, +let us hope, was perfectly reverent. "God did it all!"</p> + +<p>The one kindergarten class taught entirely in Tamil is the +Scripture lesson, illustrated whenever possible by pictures; +and being always taught about sacred things in Tamil, the +babies have no doubt about the language in use in Bible +days. But sometimes a little mind is puzzled, as an instructive +aside revealed a day or two ago. For their teacher +had told them in English, not as a Scripture lesson, but just +as a story, about Peter and John and the lame man. The +picture was before them, and they understood and followed +keenly; but one little girl whispered to another, who happened +to be the well-informed Cock-robin: "Did Peter and John talk +English or Tamil?" "Tamil, of course!" returned Cock-robin, +without a moment's hesitation.</p> + +<p>The Scripture lessons are usually given by Arulai, whose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +delight is Bible teaching. "So that as much as lieth in you +you will apply yourself wholly to this one thing, and draw +all your cares and studies this way," is a word that always +comes to mind when one thinks of Arulai and her Bible. +She much enjoys taking the babies, believing that the impressions +created upon the mind of a little child are practically +indelible.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Practical Politics</div> + +<p>Sometimes these impressions are expressed in vigorous +fashion. Once the subject of the class was the Good +Samaritan. The babies were greatly exercised over the +scandalous behaviour of the priest and the Levite. "Punish +them! Let them have whippings!" they demanded. Arulai +explained further. But one baby got up from her seat and +walked solemnly to the picture. "Take care what you are +doing!" she remarked impressively in Tamil, shaking her +finger at the two retreating backs. "Naughty! naughty!"—this +was in English—"take care!"</p> + +<p>One of the favourite pictures shows Abraham and Isaac +on the way to the mount of sacrifice. This story was told +one morning with much reverence and feeling, and the +babies were impressed. There were tears in Bala's eyes as +she gazed at the picture, but she brushed them away +hurriedly and hoped no one had noticed. Only Chellalu +appeared perfectly unconcerned. She had business of her +own on hand, and the story, it seemed, had not touched +her. The babies are searched before they come to school, +and all toys, bits of string, old tins, and sundries are +removed from their persons. But there are ways of evading +inquisitors. Chellalu knows these ways. She now produced +a long wisp of red tape from somewhere—she did not tell +us where—and proceeded to tie her feet together. This +accomplished, she curled herself up on the bench like a +caterpillar on a leaf, and to all appearances went to sleep. +Why was she not awakened and compelled to behave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +properly? asks the reader, duly shocked. Perhaps because +on that rather special morning the teacher preferred her +asleep.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 386px;"> +<img src="images/illus-38.jpg" width="386" height="550" alt="ARULAI AND RUKMA, WITH NAVEENA." title="" /> +<span class="caption">ARULAI AND RUKMA, WITH NAVEENA.</span> +</div> + +<p>The story finished, the children were questioned, and +they answered with unwonted gravity. "What did Isaac +say to his father as they walked alone together?" An +awed little voice had begun the required answer, when +Chellalu suddenly uncurled, sat up, and said in clear, decided +Tamil: "He said, 'Father! do not kill me!' <i>Yesh!</i> that was +what he said."</p> + +<p>When first the babies heard about Heaven, they all +wanted to go at once, and with difficulty were restrained +from praying to be taken there immediately. There was +one naughty child who, when she was given medicine, +invariably announced, "I will not stay in this village: I am +going to Heaven! I am going now!" But they soon grew +wiser. It was our excitable, merry little Jullanie who +summed up all desires with most simplicity: "Lord Jesus, +please take me there or anywhere anytime; only wherever +I am, please stay there too!" Some of the babies are carnal: +"When I go to that village (Heaven), I shall go for a ride +on the cherubim's wings. I will make them take me to all +sorts of places, just wherever I want to go."</p> +<div class="sidenote">The Way to Heaven</div> + +<p>The latest pronouncement, however, was for the moment +the most perplexing. "Come-anda-look-ata-well!" said +Chellalu yesterday evening, the sentence in a single long +word. The well is being dug in the Menagerie garden and +is surrounded by a trellis, beyond which the babies may not +pass, unless taken by one of ourselves. As we drew near +to the well, Chellalu pointed to it and said: "Amma! That +is the way to Heaven!" This speech, which was in Tamil, +considerably surprised me, as naturally we think of Heaven +above the bright blue sky. The yawning gulf of the +unfinished well suggested something different.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Chellalu was positive. "It is the way to Heaven. <i>I</i> +may not go there, but <i>you</i> may! Yesh! <i>you</i> may go to +Heaven, Amma, but <i>I</i> may not!" She had nothing more +to say; and we wondered how she could possibly have +arrived at so extraordinary a conclusion, till we remembered +that it had been explained to the babies that any baby +falling in would probably be drowned and die, and so until +it was finished and made safe no baby must go near it. +Chellalu had evidently argued that as to die meant going to +Heaven, the well must be the way to Heaven; and as only +grown-up people might go near it, they, and they alone +apparently, were allowed to go to Heaven.</p> + +<p>These babies are nothing if not practical. Arulai had been +teaching the story of the Unmerciful Servant; and to bring +it down to nursery life, supposed the case of a baby who +snatched at other babies' toys, and was unfair and selfish. +Such a baby, if not reformed, would grow up and be like +the Unmerciful Servant. The babies looked upon the back +of the offender as shown in the picture. "Bad man! Nasty +man!" they said to each other, pointing to him with +aversion. And Arulai closed the class with a short prayer +that none of the babies might ever be like the Unmerciful +Servant.</p> + +<p>The prayer over, the babies rushed to the table where +their toys were put during the Scripture lesson. Pyârie got +there first, and, gathering all she could reach, she swept +them into her lap and was darting off with them, when a +word from Arulai recalled her. For a moment there was +a struggle. Then she ran up to Tingalu, the child she had +chiefly defrauded, poured all her treasures into her lap, and +then sprang into Arulai's arms with the eager question: +"Acca! Acca! Am I not a <i>Merciful</i> Servant?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>The Accals</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"This sacred work demands not lukewarm, selfish, slack souls, +but hearts more finely tempered than steel, wills purer and harder +than the diamond."—<span class="smcap">Père Didon.</span></p></div> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-39.jpg" width="550" height="382" alt="PONNAMAL, WITH PREETHA ON HER KNEE, AND TARA BESIDE HER." title="" /> +<span class="caption">PONNAMAL, WITH PREETHA ON HER KNEE, AND TARA BESIDE HER.</span> +<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='cap'>THE Accals, without whom this work in all its various +branches could not be undertaken, are a band of +Indian sisters (the word Accal means older sister) +who live for the service of the children. First among the +Accals is Ponnamal (Golden). With the quick affection of +the East the children find another word for Gold and call +her doubly Golden Sister.</div> + +<p>Sometimes we are asked if we ever find an Indian fellow-worker +whom we can thoroughly trust. The ungenerous +question would make us as indignant as it would if it were +asked about our own relations, were it not that we know +it is asked in ignorance by those who have never had the +opportunity of experiencing, or have missed the happiness +of enjoying, true friendship with the people of this land. +Those who have known that happiness, know the limitless +loyalty and the tender, wonderful love that is lavished on +the one who feels so unworthy of it all. If there is distance +and want of sympathy between those who are called to be +workers together with the great Master, is not something +wrong? Simple, effortless intimacy, that closeness of touch +which is friendship indeed, is surely possible. But rather +we would put it otherwise, and say that without it service<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +together, of the only sort we would care to know, is perfectly +impossible.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 347px;"> +<img src="images/illus-40.jpg" width="347" height="500" alt="SELLAMUTTU AND SUSEELA." title="" /> +<span class="caption">SELLAMUTTU AND SUSEELA.</span> +</div> + +<p>In our work all along we have had this joy to the full. +God in His goodness gave us from the first those who +responded at once to the confidence we offered them. In +India the ideal of a consecrated life is a life with no reserves—which +seeks for nothing, understands nothing, cares for +nothing but to be poured forth upon the sacrifice and service. +Pierce through the various incrustations which have over-laid +this pure ideal, give no heed to the effect of Western +influence and example, and you come upon this feeling, +however expressed or unexpressed, at the very back of all—the +instinct that recognises and responds to the call to +sacrifice, and does not understand its absence in the lives +of those who profess to follow the Crucified. Who, to whom +this ideal is indeed "The Gleam," that draws and ever draws +the soul to passionate allegiance, can fail to find in the Indian +nature at its truest and finest that kinship of spirit which +knits hearts together? "And it came to pass when he had +made an end of speaking, that the soul of Jonathan was knit +with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own +soul": this tells it all. The spring of heart to heart that we +call affinity, the knitting no hand can ever afterward unravel—these +experiences have been granted to us all through our +work together, and we thank God for it.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Pure Justice</div> + +<p>Ponnamal's work lies chiefly among the convert-nurses +and the babies. She has charge of the nurseries and of the +food arrangements, so intricate and difficult to the mere lay +mind; she trains her workers to thoroughness and earnestness, +and by force of example seems to create an atmosphere +of cheerful unselfishness that is very inspiring. How +often we have sent a young convert, tempted to self-centredness +and depression, to Ponnamal, and seen her +return to her ordinary work braced and bright and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> +sensible. We are all faulty and weak at times, and every +nursery, like every life, has its occasional lapses; but on +the whole it is not too much to say that the nurseries are +happy places, and Ponnamal's influence goes through them +all like a fresh wind. And this in spite of very poor health. +For Ponnamal, who was the leader of our itinerating band, +broke down hopelessly, and thought her use in life had +passed—till the babies came and brought her back to +activity again. And the joy of the Lord, we have often +proved, is strength for body as well as soul.</p> + +<p>Sellamuttu, who comes next to Ponnamal, is the "Pearl" +of previous records, and she has been a pearl to us through +all our years together. She is special Accal to the household +of children above the baby-age—a healthy, high-spirited +crow of most diverse dispositions; and she is loved by one +and all with a love which is tempered with great respect, +for she is "all pure justice," as a little girl remarked +feelingly not long ago, after being rather sharply reproved +for exceeding naughtiness: "within my heart wrath burned +like a fire; but my mouth could not open to reply, for inside +me a voice said, 'It is true, entirely true; Accal is perfectly +just.'"</p> + +<p>This Accal, however, is most tender in her affections, and +among the babies she has some particular specials. One of +these is the solemn-faced morsel of the photograph, to save +whom she travelled, counting by time, as far as from London +to Moscow and back; and the baby arrived as happy and well +as when the friends at "Moscow" sent her off with prayers +and blessings and kindness. But the photograph was a +shock. "Aiyo!" she said, quite upset to see her delight so +misrepresented, "that is not Suseela! There is no smile, +no pleasure in her face!" We comforted her by the +assurance that any one who understood babies and their +ways would consider the camera responsible for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> +expression. And at least the baby was obedient. Had +she not told her to make a salaam, and had not the little +hand gone up in serious salute? A perfectly obedient baby +is Sellamuttu's ideal, and she was satisfied.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-41.jpg" width="550" height="387" alt="TO THE RIGHT, SUHINIE, AND HER BABY SUNUNDA" title="" /> +<span class="caption">TO THE RIGHT, SUHINIE, AND HER BABY SUNUNDA</span> +</div> + +<p>Both these sisters came to us at some loss to themselves, +for both could have lived at home at ease if they had been +so inclined. Ponnamal lost all her little fortune by joining +us. She could, perhaps, have recovered it by going to law, +but she did not feel it right to do so, and she suffered +herself to be defrauded. "How could I teach others to be +unworldly if I myself did what to them would appear worldly-minded?" +That was all she ever said by way of explanation.</p> + +<p>Next to Ponnamal and Sellamuttu come the motherly-hearted +Gnanamal and Annamai. They came to us when we +were in circumstances of peculiar difficulty. The work was just +beginning, and we had not enough trustworthy helpers; so, +wearied with disturbed nights, we were almost at the end of +our strength. "Send us help!" we prayed, and went on +each trying to do the work of three. It was one hot, tiring +afternoon, when we longed to forget everything and rest for +half an hour, but could not, because there was so much to do, +that a bright, capable face appeared at the door of our room, +and Annamai, Lulla's beloved, came in and said: "God sent me, +and my relative" (naming a mission catechist) "brought me. +And so I have come!"</p> + +<p>And Gnanamal—we were in dire straits, for a dear little +babe had suffered at the hands of one who thought first of +herself and second of her charge, and the most careful tending +was needed if the baby was to survive—it was then Gnanamal +came and took charge of the delicate child, and became the +comfort and help she has ever continued to be. When there is +serious illness, and night-nursing is required, Gnanamal is +always ready to volunteer; though to her, as to most of us in +India, night work is not what the flesh would choose. Then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +in the morning, when we go to relieve her, we find her +bright as ever, as if she had slept comfortably all the time. +We think this sort of help worth gratitude.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Whose Names are in the Book of Life</div> + +<p>The convert-workers, dear as dear children, but, thank God, +dependable as comrades, come next in age to the head Accals. +Arulai Tara (known to some as "Star") is what her name +suggests, something steadfast, something shining, something +burning with a pure devotion which kindles other fires. We +cannot imagine our children without their beloved Arulai. +Then there is Sundoshie (Joy), to the left next Suhinie in +the photo, a young wife for whom poison was prepared +three times, and whose escape from death at the hand of +husband and mother-in-law was one of those quiet miracles +which God is ever working in this land of cruelty in dark +places. And Suhinie (Gladness), whose story of deliverance +has been told before;<a name="FNanchor_E_5" id="FNanchor_E_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_E_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</a> and Esli, the gift of a fellow-missionary, +a most faithful girl; and others younger, but +developing in character and trustworthiness. All these young +converts need much care, but the care of genuine converts is very +fruitful work; and one interesting part of it is the fitting of +each to her niche, or of fitting the niche to her. Discernment +of spirit is needed for this, for misfits means waste energy and +great discomfort; and energy is too good a thing to waste, +and comfort too pleasant a thing to spoil. So those who are +responsible for this part of the work would be grateful +for the remembrance of any who know how much depends +upon it.</p> + +<p>Among the recognised "fits" in our family is "the Accal +who loves the unlovable babies." This is Suhinie. We tried +her once with the Taraha children; but the terrible activity of +these young people was altogether too much for the slowly +moving machinery of poor Suhinie's brain, and she was +perfectly overwhelmed and very miserable. For Suhinie<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> +hates hurry and sudden shocks of any sort, and the babies +of maturer years discovered this immediately; and Suhinie, +waddling forlornly after the babies, looked like a highly +respectable duck in charge of a flock of impertinent robins.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-42.jpg" width="550" height="387" alt="THREE CONVERT WORKERS." title="" /> +<span class="caption">THREE CONVERT WORKERS.</span> +</div> + +<p>It was quite a misfit, and Suhinie's worst came to the top, +and we speedily moved her back again to the Prémalia +nursery.</p> + +<p>For there you see Suhinie in her true sphere. Give her a +poor, puny babe, who will never, if she can help it, let her Accal +have an undisturbed hour; give her the most impossible, most +troublesome baby in the nursery, and then you will see Suhinie's +best. We discovered this when Ponnamal was in charge of +the Neyoor nursery. Ponnamal had one small infant so cross +that nobody wanted her. She would cry half the night, +a snarly, snappy cry, that would not stop unless she was +rocked, and began again as soon as the rocking was stopped. +Ponnamal gave her to Suhinie.</p> + +<p>"Night after night till two in the morning she would sing +to that fractious child"—this was Ponnamal's story to me +when next I went to Neyoor. "She never seemed to tire; +hymn after hymn she would sing, on and on and on. I never +saw her impatient with it; she just loved it from the first." +And a curious thing began to happen: the baby grew like +her Accal. This likeness was not caught in the photograph, +but is nevertheless so observable that visitors have often +asked if the little one were her own child.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Sinners</div> + +<p>This baby, Sununda by name, is greatly attached to Suhinie. +As she is over two years old now, she has been promoted to +the Taraha, and being an extremely wilful little person, she +sometimes gets into trouble. One day I was called to +remonstrate, and a little "morning glory" was required, and +I put her in a corner to think about it. Another sinner had +to be dealt with, and when I returned Sununda was nowhere +to be found. I searched all over the Taraha and in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +garden, and finally found her in the Prémalia cuddled close +to Suhinie. "She has told me all about it," said Suhinie, +who was nursing another edition of difficult infancy; and she +looked down on the curly head with eyes of brooding affection, +like a tender turtle-dove upon her nestling. Then the +roguish brown eyes smiled up at me with an expression of +perfect confidence that I would understand and sympathise +with the desire to share the troubles of this strange, sad +life with so beloved an Accal.</p> + +<p>The question of discipline is sometimes rather difficult +with so many dispositions, each requiring different dealing. +We try, of course, to fit the penalty to the crime, so that +the child's sense of justice will work on our side; and in +this we always find there is a wonderful unconscious co-operation +on the part of the merest baby. But the older +children used to be rather a problem. Some had come to +us after their wills had become developed and their characters +partly formed. Most of them were with us of their +own free will, and could have walked off any day, for +they knew where they would be welcome. Discipline under +these circumstances is not entirely easy. But three years +ago something of Revival Power swept through all our +family. It was not the Great Revival for which we wait, +but it was something most blessed in effect and abiding in +result; and ever since then the tone has been higher and +the life deeper, so that there is something to which we can +appeal confident of a quick response. But children will be +scampish; and once their earnestness of desire to be good +was put to unexpected and somewhat drastic proof.</p> + +<p>At that time the mild Esli had charge of the sewing-class, +and the class had got into bad ways; carelessness and +chattering prevailed, so Esli came in despair to me, and I +talked to the erring children. They were sorry, made no +excuses, and promised to be different in future. I left them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +repentant and thoroughly ashamed of themselves, and went +to other duties.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-43.jpg" width="550" height="385" alt="SEWING-CLASS IN THE COURTYARD." title="" /> +<span class="caption">SEWING-CLASS IN THE COURTYARD.</span> +</div> +<div class="sidenote">The Mark</div> + +<p>Shortly afterwards Arulai found them in a state of +great depression. They told her they had promised to be +good at the sewing-class, but were afraid they would +forget. Arulai's ideas are usually most original, and she +sympathised with the children, but told them there was no +need for them ever to forget. They asked eagerly what +could be done to help them to remember. They had +prayed, but even so had doubts. Was there anything to +be done besides praying? Arulai said there was, and she +expounded certain verses from the Book of Proverbs. +"Sometimes the best way to make a mark upon the mind +is to make a mark upon the body," she suggested, and +asked the children if they would like this done. The +children hesitated. They were aware that Arulai's "marks" +were likely to be emphatic, for Arulai never does things +by halves. But their devotion to her and belief in her +overcame all fears; and being genuinely anxious to reform, +they one and all consented. So she sent a small girl off +to look for a cane; and presently one was produced, "thin +and nice and suitable," as I was afterwards informed. The +younger children were invited to take the cane and look +at it, and consider well how it would feel. This they did +obediently, but still stuck undauntedly to their determination, +in fact, were keen to go through with it. Then Arulai +explained that when the King said, "Chasten thy son while +there is hope, and let not thy soul spare for his crying," +he must have been thinking of a very little boy who had +not the sense to know what was good for him. They had +sense. The mark on the body would be waste punishment +if it were not received willingly and gratefully; so if any +child cried or pulled her hand away, she would stop. Then +the children all stood up and held out their hands—what a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +moment for a photograph! Arulai's "mark upon the body" +was a genuine affair, but the class received it with fortitude +and gratitude.</p> + +<p>When I heard this history, an hour or so after its +occurrence, I rather demurred. The children had appeared +to be sincerely sorry when I spoke to them, and if so, why +proceed to extremities? But Arulai answered with wisdom +and much assurance: "They have been talked to before +and have been sorry, but they forgot and did it again. +This time they will not forget." And neither did they. As +long as that class continued, its behaviour was exemplary; +and "the mark upon the mind," to judge by their demeanour, +remained as fresh as it must have been on that +memorable day when the "mark" upon the body effected +its creation. The story ought to end here; but most stories +have a sequel, and this has two.</p> + +<p>The first occurred a few weeks later. A little girl, one +of the sewing-class, had slipped into the habit of careless +disobedience, followed too often by sulks. If we happened +to come across her just when the thunder-clouds were +gathering, we could usually divert her attention and avert +the threatened trouble; but if we did not happen to meet +her just at the right moment, she would plunge straight into +the most outrageous naughtiness with a sort of purposeful +directness that was difficult to deal with. Knowing the +child well, we often let her choose her own punishments; +and she did this so conscientiously that at last, as she herself +mournfully remarked, "they were all used up," and there +was nothing left but the most ancient—and perhaps in +some cases most efficacious, which, the circumstances being +what they were, I was naturally reluctant to try. But the +child, trained to be perfectly honest with herself, apparently +thought the thing over, and calmly made up her mind to +accept the inevitable; for when, anxious she should not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> +misunderstand, I began to explain matters to her, I was +met by this somewhat astonishing response: "Yes, Amma, +I know. I know you have tried everything else" (she said +this almost sympathetically, as if appreciating my dilemma), +"and so you have to do it. I do not like it at all, but +Arulai Accal says it is no use unless I take it willingly, +so Amma, please give me a good caning." (The idiom is +the same in Tamil as in English, but there is a stronger +word which she now proceeded to use with great deliberation.) +"Yes, Amma, a <i>hot</i> caning—with my full mind I +am willing. And I will not cry. Or if I do cry" (this was +added in a serious, reflecting sort of way), "let not your +soul spare for my crying!"</p> + +<p>The second is less abnormal. Esli, whose placid soul had +been sadly stirred at the time of the infliction of the "mark," +was so impressed by its salutary effect that she conceived +a new respect for the methods of King Solomon. The application +of "morning glory" is a privilege reserved, as a rule, +for ourselves; but one day, being doubtless hard pressed, +Esli produced a stick—a very feeble one—and calling up the +leader of all rebels, addressed herself to her. Chellalu, as +might have been expected, was taken by surprise; and for +one short moment Esli was permitted to follow the ways +of the King. But only for a moment: for, suddenly apprehending +the gravity of the situation, and realising that +such precedent should not pass unchallenged, Chellalu, with +a quick wriggle, stood forth free, seized the stick with a +joyous shout, snapped it in two, and flourished round the +room: then stopping before her afflicted Accal, she solemnly +handed her one of the pieces, and with a bound and a +scamper like a triumphant puppy, was off to the very end +of her world with the other half of that stick.</p> +<div class="sidenote">"Not Lukewarm, Selfish, Slack Souls"</div> + +<p>When the Elf came to us on March 6, 1901, and we began +to know some of the secrets of the Temple, we tried to save<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +several little children, but we failed. The thought of those +first children with whom we came into touch, but for whom +all our efforts were unavailing, is unforgettable. We see +them still, little children—lost. But we partly understand +why we had to wait so long; we had not the workers then to +help us to take care of them. We had only some of the older +Accals, who could not have done it alone. These convert-girls, +who now help us so much, were in Hindu homes; some +of them had not even heard of Christ, whose love alone makes +this work possible. For India is not England in its view of +such work. There is absolutely nothing attractive about it. +It is not "honourable work," like preaching and teaching. +No money would have drawn these workers to us. Work +which has no clear ending, but drifts on into the night if +babies are young or troublesome—such work makes demands +upon devotion and practical unselfishness which appeal to +none but those who are prepared to love with the tireless +love of the mother. "I do not want people who come to +me under certain reservations. In battle you need soldiers +who fear nothing." So wrote the heroic Père Didon; and, +though it may sound presumptuous to do so, we say the +same. We want as comrades those who come to us without +reservations. But such workers have to be prepared, and +such preparation takes time. "Tarry ye the Lord's leisure," +is a word that unfolds as we go on.</p> + +<p>Yet we find that the work, though so demanding, is full +of compensations. The convert in her loneliness is welcomed +into a family where little children need her and will soon +love her dearly. The uncomforted places in her heart become +healed, for the touch of a little child is very healing. If she +is willing to forget herself and live for that little child, something +new springs up within her; she does not understand +it, but those who watch her know that all is well. Sometimes +long afterwards she reads her own heart's story and opens it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> +to us. "I was torn with longing for my home. I dreamed +night after night about it, and I used to waken just wild to +run back. And yet I knew if I had, it would have been +destruction to my soul. And then the baby came, and you +put her into my arms, and she grew into my heart, and she +took away all that feeling, till I forgot I ever had it." This +was the story of one, a young wife, for whom the natural +joys of home can never be. But if there is selfishness or +slackness or a weak desire to drift along in easiness, taking +all and giving nothing, things are otherwise. For such the +nurseries hold nothing but noise and interruptions. We ask +to be spared from such as these. Or if they come, may +they be inspired by the constraining love of Christ and "The +Glory of the Usual."</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_E_5" id="Footnote_E_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_E_5"><span class="label">[E]</span></a> <i>Overweights of Joy</i>, ch. xxiii. Suhinie left the nursery for a few hours' +rest at noon on February 2, 1910. She fell asleep, to awaken in heaven.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>The Little Accals</h3> + +<div class='poem'> +But Thou didst reckon, when at first<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thy word our hearts and hands did crave,</span><br /> +What it would come to at the worst<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">To save.</span><br /> +Perpetual knockings at Thy door,<br /> +Tears sullying Thy transparent rooms.<br /><br /><br /> +</div> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-44.jpg" width="550" height="389" alt="THREE LITTLE ACCALS." title="" /> +<span class="caption">THREE LITTLE ACCALS.</span> +<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='cap'>THESE lines come with insistence as I look at the little +Accals, who follow in order after the Accals, convert +children, most of them, now growing up to helpfulness. +If part of the story of one such young girl is told, it +may help those to whom such tales are unfamiliar to understand +and to care.</div> + +<p>December 16, 1903, was spent by three of us in a rest-house +on the outskirts of a Hindu town. We were on our way to +Dohnavur from Madras, where we had seen Mr. and Mrs. +Walker off for England. The two days' journey had left us +somewhat weary; and yet we were strong in hope that day, +for we knew there was special thought for us on board ship +and at home, and something special was being asked as a +birthday gift of joy. Arulai (Star) and Preena (the Elf), the +two who were with me, were full of expectation. The day had +often been marked by that joy of joys, a lost sheep found;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +and as we looked out at the heathen town with its many +people so unconscious of our thoughts about them, we wondered +where we should find the one our thoughts had singled +from among the crowd, and we went out to look for her.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 351px;"> +<img src="images/illus-45.jpg" width="351" height="500" alt="PREENA AND PREEYA (To left and right) getting ready for a Coming-Day Feast." title="" /> +<span class="caption">PREENA AND PREEYA<br />(To left and right) getting ready for a Coming-Day Feast.</span> +</div> + +<p>Up and down the long white streets we looked for her; +on the little narrow verandahs, in the courtyards of the +houses, in their dark inner rooms when we were invited +within, out again into the sunshine—but we could not find her. +That evening I remember, though we did not say so to each +other, we felt a little disappointed. We had not met one who +even remotely cared for the things we had come to bring.</p> + +<p>No one had responded. There was not, so far as we knew +it, even a little blade to point to, much less a sheaf to lay +at His feet. After nightfall a woman came to see us. But +she was a Christian, and beyond trying to cheer her to more +earnest service among the heathen, there was nothing to be +done for her. She left us, she told us afterwards, warmed +to hope; and she talked to a child next morning, a little +relative of her own, whose heart the Lord opened.</p> + +<p>For three months we heard nothing; then unexpectedly +a letter came. "The child is much in earnest, and she has +made up her mind to join your Starry Cluster" (a name +given by the people to our band, which at that time was +itinerating in the district), "so I purpose sending her at once." +The parents, for reasons of their own, agreed to the arrangement, +and the little girl came to Dohnavur. It was wonderful +to watch her learning. She is not intellectually brilliant, but +the soul awakened at once, and there was that tenderness +of response which refreshes the heart of the teacher. She +seemed to come straight to our Lord Jesus and know Him +as her Saviour, child though she was; and soon the longing +to win others possessed her, and a younger child, who was +her special charge among the nursery children, was influenced +so gently and so willingly, that we do not know the time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +when, led by her little Accal, she too came to the Lover of +children.</p> +<div class="sidenote">"Across the Will of Nature"</div> + +<p>But one day, suddenly, trouble came. The parents appeared +in the Dohnavur compound and claimed their daughter; and +we had no legal right to refuse her, for she was under age. +We shall never forget the hour they came. They had haunted +the neighbourhood, as we afterwards heard, and prowled +about outside the compound, watching for an opportunity +to carry the child off without our knowledge. But she was +always with the other children, so that plan failed. When +first she heard they had come, she fled to the bungalow. "My +parents have come! My father is strong! Oh, hide me! +hide me!" she besought us. "I cannot resist him! I cannot!" +and she cried and clung to us. But when we went out to +meet them, she was perfectly quiet; and no one would have +known from her manner as she stood before them, and +answered their questions, without a tremble in her voice, +how frightened she had been before.</p> + +<p>"What is this talk about being a Christian?" the father +demanded stormily. "What can an infant know about such +matters? Are you wiser than your fathers, that their religion +is not good enough for you?" And scathing mockery followed, +harder to bear than abuse. "Come! Say salaam to the +Missie Ammal, and bring your jewels" (she had taken them +off), "and let us go home together." The child stood absolutely +still, looking up with brave eyes; and to our astonishment +said, as though it were the only thing to be said: "But +I am a Christian. I cannot go home."</p> + +<p>We had not thought of her saying this. We had, indeed, +encouraged her as we had encouraged ourselves, to rest in +our God, who is unto us a God of deliverances; but we had +not suggested any line of resistance, and were not prepared +for the calm refusal which so quietly took it for granted +that she had no power to refuse.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p> + +<p>The father was evidently nonplussed. He knew his little +daughter, a timid child, whose translated name, Fawn, +seems to express her exactly, and he gazed down upon her +in silence for one surprised moment, then burst out in wrath +and indignant revilings. "Snake! nurtured in the bosom only +to turn and sting! Vile, filthy, disgusting insect, born to +disgrace her caste!" And they cursed her as she stood.</p> + +<p>Then their mood changed, and they tried pleadings, much +more difficult to resist. The father reminded her of his +pilgrimage to a famous Temple at her birth: "He had +named her before the gods." Her mother touched on +tenderer memories, till we could feel the quiver of soul, and +feared for the little Fawn. Then they promised her liberty +at home. She should read her Bible, pray to the true God, +"for all gods are one." I saw Fawn shut her eyes for a +moment. What she saw in that moment she told me afterwards: +a fire lighted on the floor, a Bible tossed into it, two +schoolboy brothers (whose leanings towards Christianity had +been discovered) pushed into an inner room, the sound of +blows and cries. "And after that my brothers did not want +to be Christians any more." Poor little timid Fawn! We +hardly wonder as we look at her that she shrank and shut +her eyes. I have seen a child of twelve held down by a +powerful arm and beaten across the bare shoulders with a +cocoa-nut shell fastened to the end of a stick; I have seen +her wrists twisted almost to dislocation—seen it, and been +unable to help. I think of the child, now our happy Gladness, +lover of the unlovable babies; and I for one cannot wonder +at the little Fawn's fear. But aloud she only said: "Forgive +me, I cannot go home."</p> +<div class="sidenote">Not Peace, but a Sword</div> + +<p>The father grew impatient. "Get your jewels and let us +be gone!" Fawn ran into the house, brought her jewels, and +handed them to her father. He counted them over—pretty +little chains and bangles, and then he eyed her curiously. A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +child to give up her jewels like this—he found it unaccountable. +And then he began to argue, but Fawn answered him +with clearness and simplicity, and he could not perplex her. +She knew Whom she believed.</p> + +<p>At last they rose to go, cursing the day she was born +with a curse that sounded horrible. But their younger +daughter, whom they had brought with them, threw herself +upon the ground, tearing her hair, beating her breast, shrieking +and rolling and flinging the dust about like a mad thing. +"I will not go without my sister! I will not go! I will not +go!" And she clung to Fawn, and wept and bewailed till +we hardly dared to hope the child would be able to withstand +her. For a moment the parents stood and waited. +We, too, stood in tension of spirit. "They have told her to +do it," whispered Fawn, and stood firm. Then the father +stooped, snatched up the younger child, and departed, followed +by the mother.</p> + +<p>All this time two of our number had been waiting upon +God in a quiet place out of sight. One of the two went +after the parents, hoping for a chance to explain matters +to the mother. As she drew near she heard the wife say +in an undertone to her husband: "Leave them for to-day. +Wait till to-night. You have carried off the younger in +your arms against her will. What hinders you doing the +same to the elder?" And that night we prayed that the +Wall of Fire might be round us, and slept in peace.</p> + +<p>As a dream when one awaketh, so was the memory of that +afternoon when we awoke next morning. And as a dream +so the parents passed out of sight, for they left before the +dawn. But weeks afterwards we heard what had happened +that night. They had lodged in the Hindu village outside our +gate. There has never been a Christian there, and the people +have never responded in any way. It is a little shut-in place +of darkness on the borders of the light. But when the parents<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +proposed a raid upon the bungalow that night they would not +rise to it. "No, we have no feud with the bungalow. We +will not do it." The nearest white face was a day's journey +distant, and a woman alone, white or brown, does not count +for much in Hindu eyes. But the Wall of Fire was around +us, and so we were safe.</p> + +<p>If the story could stop here, how easy life would be! One +fight, one fling to the lions, and then the palm and crown. +But it is not so. The perils of reaction are greater for the +convert than the first great strain of facing the alternative, +"Diana or Christ." Home-sickness comes, wave upon wave, +and all but sweeps the soul away; feelings and longings +asleep in the child awake in the girl, and draw her and woo +her, and blind her too often to all that yielding means. She +forgets the under-side of the life she has forsaken; she +remembers only the alluring; and all that is natural pleads +within her, and will not let her rest. "Across the will of +Nature leads on the path of God," is sternly true for the +convert in a Hindu or Moslem land.</p> + +<p>And so we write this unfinished story in faith that some +one reading it will remember the young girl-converts as well +as the little children. Fawn has been kept steadfast, but she +still needs prayer. These last five years have held anxious +hours for those who love her, and to us, as to all who have +to do with converts. "Perpetual knockings at Thy door, +tears sullying Thy transparent rooms," are words that go +deep and touch the heart of things.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>The Glory of the Usual</h3> + + +<div class="figright" style="width: 355px;"> +<img src="images/illus-46.jpg" width="355" height="500" alt="AFTER HER BOTTLE." title="" /> +<span class="caption">AFTER HER BOTTLE.</span> +</div> + +<div class='cap'>"AND all things were done in such excellent methods, and +I cannot tell how, but things in the doing of them +seemed to cast a smile"—is a beautiful sentence +<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'form'">from</ins> Bunyan's <i>Holy War</i>, which has been with us ever +since we began the Nursery work. Lately we found its +complement in a modern book of sermons, <i>The Unlighted +Lustre</i>, by <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'C. H.'">G. H.</ins> Morrison. "No matter how stirring your +life be, it will be a failure if you have never been wakened +to the glory of the usual. There is no happiness like the +old and common happiness, sunshine and love and duty and +the laughter of children. . . . There are no duties that so +enrich as dull duties."</div> + +<p>The ancient voice and the new voice sing to the same sweet +tune; and we in our little measure are learning to sing it too.</p> + +<p>As we have said, India is a land where the secular does not +appeal. When we were an Itinerating Band, we had many +offers from Christian girls and women to join us, as many +in one month as we now have in five years. Sometimes it +has seemed to us that we were set to learn and to teach a new +and difficult lesson, the sacredness of the commonplace. Day +by day we learn to rub out a little more of the clear chalked +line that someone has ruled on life's black-board; the Secular<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> +and the Spiritual may not be divided now. The enlightening +of a dark soul or the lighting of a kitchen fire, it matters +not which it is, if only we are obedient to the heavenly +vision, and work with a pure intention to the glory of +our God.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-47.jpg" width="550" height="386" alt="NORTH LAKE AND HILLS." title="" /> +<span class="caption">NORTH LAKE AND HILLS.</span> +</div> + +<p>The nursery kitchen is a pleasant little place. We hardly +ever enter it without remembering and appreciating John +Bunyan's pretty thought, for there things in the doing of +them seem to cast a smile. Ponnamal, who, as we said, +<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'suprintends'">superintends</ins> the more delicate food-making work, has trained +two of her helpers to carefulness; and these two—one a +motherly older woman with a most comfortable face, the +other the convert, Joy—look up with such a welcome that +you feel it good to be there. Scrubbing away at endless +pots and pans and milk vessels is a younger convent-girl, +who, when she first came to us, disapproved of such exertion. +She liked to sit on the floor with her Bible on her lap and +a far-away look of content on her face until the dinner-bell +rang. Now she scrubs with a sense of responsibility.</p> + +<p>All the younger converts have regular teaching, for they +have much to learn, and all, older and younger, have daily +classes and meetings; above all, it is planned that each has +her quiet time undisturbed. But it is early understood that +to be happy each must contribute her share to the happiness +of the family; and one of the first lessons the young convert +has to learn is to honour the "Grey Angel," Drudgery, and +not to call her bad names.</p> +<div class="sidenote">The Story of a Raven</div> + +<p>The kitchen has an outlook dear to the Tamil heart. A +trellis covered with pink antigone surrounds it, but a window +is cut in the trellis so that the kitchen may command the +bungalow. "While I stirred the milk I saw everything you +did on your verandah," remarked one of the workers lately, +in tones of appreciation. The opposite outlook is the mountain +shown in the photograph; only instead of water we have the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> +kitchen-garden with its tropical-looking plantains and creeping +marrows. "And the warm melon lay like a little sun on the +tawny sand," is a line for an Eastern garden when the great +marrows ripen suddenly.</p> + +<p>The kitchen thus favoured without, is adorned within, +according to the taste of its owners, with those very interesting +pictures published by the makers of infant foods. "How +do you choose them?" we asked one day. "The truest and +the prettiest," was the satisfactory answer. Our Dohnavur +text, which hangs in every nursery, looks down upon the +workers, and, as they put it, "keeps them sweet in heart": +"Love never faileth."</p> + +<p>When first we began to cultivate babies we were very +ignorant, and we asked advice of all who seemed competent +to give it. The advice was most perplexing. Each mother +was sure the food that had suited her baby was the best of +all foods, and regarded all others as doubtful, if not bad. One +whom we greatly respected told us Indian babies would be +sure to get on anyhow, as it was their own land. And one +seriously suggested rice-water as a suitable nourishment. +Naturally we began with the time-honoured milk and barley-water, +and some throve upon it. But we found each baby +had to be studied separately. There was no universal +(artificial) food. We could write a tractlet on foods, and if +we did we would call it "Don't," for the first sentence in it +would be, "Don't change the food if you can help it." This +tractlet would certainly close with a word of thanks to those +kind people, the milk-food manufacturers, who have helped +us to build up healthy children; for feelings of personal +gratitude come when help of this kind is given.</p> + +<p>The nursery kitchen is a room full of reminders of help. +"I have commanded the ravens," is a word of strength to +us. Once we were very low. A little child had died under +trying circumstances. One of the milk-sellers, instead of using<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> +the vessel sent him, poured his milk into an unclean copper +vessel, and it was poisoned. He remembered that it would +not be taken unless brought in the proper vessel, so at the +last moment he corrected his mistake, but the correction was +fatal, for there was no warning. The milk was sterilized as +usual and given to the child. She was a healthy baby, and +her nurse remembers how she smiled and welcomed her bottle, +taking it in her little hands in her happy eagerness. A few +hours later she was dead.</p> + +<p>At such times the heart seems foolishly weak, and things +which would not trouble it otherwise have power to make it +sore. We were four days' journey from the nursery at the +time, and had the added anxiety about the other babies, to +whom we feared the poisoned milk might have been given, and +we dreaded what the next post might bring. Just at that +moment it was suggested, with kindest intentions, that perhaps +we were on the wrong track, the work seemed so difficult and +wasteful.</p> + +<p>It was mail-day. The mail as usual brought a pile of letters, +and the top envelope contained a bill for foods ordered from +England some weeks before. It came to more than I had +expected, in spite of the kindness of several firms in giving +a liberal discount; and for a moment the rice-water talk +(to give it a name which covers all that type of talk) came +back to me with hurt in it: "To what purpose is this waste?" +But with it came another word: "Take this child away (away +from the terrible Temple) and nurse it for Me." And with the +pile of letters before me, and the bill for food in my hand, I +asked that enough might be found in those letters to pay it. +It did not occur to me at the moment that the prayer was +rather illogical. I only knew it would be comforting, and like +a little word of peace, if such an assurance might even then +come that we were not off the lines.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Because He hath Heard</div> + +<p>Letter after letter was empty. Not empty of kindness,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +but quite empty of cheques. The last envelope looked thin +and not at all hopeful. Cheques are usually inside reliable-looking +covers. I opened it. There was nothing but a piece +of unknown writing. But the writing was to ask if we +happened to have a need which a sum named in the letter +would meet. This sum exactly covered the bill for the foods. +When the cheque eventually reached me it was for more than +the letter had mentioned, and covered all carriage and duty +expenses, which were unknown to me at the time the first +letter came, and to which of course I had not referred in my +reply. Thus almost visibly and audibly has the Lord, from +whose hands we received this charge to keep, confirmed His +word to us, strengthening us when we were weak, and comforting +us when we were sad with that innermost sense of His +tenderness which braces while it soothes.</p> + +<p>Surely we who know Him thus should love the Lord because +He hath heard our voice and our supplication. Every advertisement +on the walls of the little nursery kitchen is like an +illuminated text with a story hidden away in it:—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +When Thou dost favour any action,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It runs, it flies;</span><br /> +All things concur to give it a perfection.<br /> +</div> + +<p>The nursery kitchen, we were amused to discover, has a +sphere of influence all its own. Our discovery was on this +wise:—</p> + +<p>One wet evening we were caught in a downpour as we were +crossing from the Taraha nursery to the bungalow, and we +took shelter in the kindergarten room, which reverts to the +Lola-and-Leela tribe when the kindergarten babies depart. +The tribe do not often possess their Sittie and their Ammal +both together and all to themselves, now that the juniors are +so numerous, and they welcomed us with acclamations. +"Finish spreading your mats," we said to them, as they seemed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> +inclined to let our advent interrupt the order of the evening; +and we watched them unroll their mats, which hung round the +wall in neat rolls swung by cords from the roof, and spread +them in rows along the wall. Beside each mat was what +looked like a mummy, and beside each mummy was a matchbox +and a small bundle of rags.</p> + +<p>Presently the mummies were unswathed, and proved to be +dolls in more or less good condition. Each was carefully laid +upon a morsel of sheet, and covered with another sheet folded +over in the neatest fashion. "If we teach them to be particular +when they are young, they will be tidy when they are +old," we were informed. It was pleasant to hear our own +remarks so accurately repeated.</p> + +<p>The matchboxes were next unpacked; each contained a bit +of match, a small pointed shell, a pebble (preferably black), and a +couple of minute cockles. "I suppose you don't know what all +these are?" said Lola, affably. "That," pointing to the match, +"is a spoon; and this," taking the pointed shell up carefully, "is +a bottle. This is the 'rubber,' of course," and the black pebble +was indicated; "and these" (setting the cockle-shells on a piece +of white paper on the floor) "are bowls of water, one for the +bottle and the other for the rubber." We suggested one bowl +of water would hold both bottle and rubber; but Lola's entirely +mischievous eyes looked quite shocked and reproving. "Two +bowls are better," was the serious reply; "it is very important +to be clean." "What does your child have?" we inquired +respectfully. "Barley-water and milk, two-and-a-half ounces +every two hours—that's five tablespoonfuls, you know." "And +Leela's?" "Oh, Leela's child is delicate. She has to have +Benger. Two ounces every two hours; and it has to be a long +time digested." "Do all your children have their food every +two hours?" Lola looked surprised, and Leela giggled: how +very ignorant we seemed to be! "No, only the tiny ones; our +babies are very young. After they get older they have more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> +at a time and not so often. That child there," pointing to +another mat, "has Condensed, as we haven't enough cow's +milk for them all. It suits her very well. She has six +ounces at a time; once before she goes to sleep, and then none +till she wakens in the morning. She's a very healthy child." +"How do you know the time?" we asked, prepared for anything +now. "Oh, we have watches. This is mine," and a toy from a +Christmas cracker was produced; "Leela's watch is different" +(it was indeed different—a mere figment of the imagination), +"but she can look at mine when she wants to." "Why does +your child sleep with Leela's?" (All the other infants had +separate sleeping arrangements.) Lola looked shy, and Leela +looked shyer. These little matters of affection were not +intended for public discussion.</p> +<div class="sidenote">The Usual</div> + +<p>By this time the rain had cleared, so we prepared to depart, +and the further entertainments provided for us by the cheerful +tribe that evening do not belong to this story. We escaped +finally, damp with much laughter in a humid atmosphere. +"Come every evening!" shouted the tribe, as at last we +disappeared, and we felt much inclined to accept the +invitation.</p> + +<p>The kitchen is a busy place in the morning, and again +in the evening, when the fresh milk is carried to it in shining +aluminium vessels to be sterilized or otherwise dealt with. +But even in the busiest hours there is almost sure to be a +baby set in an upturned stool, in which she sits holding on +to the front legs in proud consciousness of being able to sit +up. Or an older one will be clinging to the garments of the +busy workers, or perched beside them on a stool. Once we +found Tara and Evu seated on the window-sill. Ponnamal +was making foods at the table under the window, and the +little bare feet were tucked in between bowls and jugs of +milk. "But, indeed, they are quite clean," explained Ponnamal, +without waiting for remark from us, for she knew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +what we were thinking of her table decorations. "We dusted +the sand off their little feet before we lifted them up." The +babies said nothing, but looked doubtfully up at us, as if not +very sure of our intentions. But Ponnamal's eyes were so +appealing, and the little buff things in blue with a trellis +of pink flowers for background made such a pretty picture, +that we had not the heart to spoil it. Then the little faces +smiled gratefully upon us, and everybody smiled. The kitchen +is a happy place of innocent surprises.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>The Secret Traffic</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Sir, to leave things out of a book because they will not be +believed, is meanness."—<span class="smcap">Dr. Johnson.</span></p></div> + + +<div class='cap'>WHEN first, upon March 7, 1901, we heard from the +lips of a little child the story of her life in a +Temple house, we were startled and distressed, and +penetrated with the conviction that such a story ought to +be impossible in a land ruled by a Christian Power. The +subject was new to us; we knew nothing of the magnitude +of what may be called "The Secret Traffic of India"—a traffic +in little children, mere infants oftentimes, for wrong purposes; +and we did not appreciate, as we do now, the delicacy and +difficulty of the position from a Government point of view, +or the quiet might of the forces upon the other side. And +though with added knowledge comes an added sense of +responsibility, and a fear of all careless appeal to those +whose burden is already so heavy, yet with every fresh discovery +the conviction deepens that something should be done—and +done, if possible, soon—to save at least this generation +of children, or some of them, from destruction.</div> + +<p>"It is useless to move without a body of evidence at +your back," said a friend in the Civil Service to us at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> +close of a long conversation. "If you can get the children, +of course they themselves will furnish the best evidence; +but, anyhow, collect facts." And this was the beginning of +a Note-book, into which we entered whatever we could +learn about the Temple children, and in which we kept +letters relating to them.</p> + +<p>By Temple children throughout this book we mean children +dedicated to gods, or in danger of being so dedicated. Dedication +to gods implies a form of marriage which makes +ordinary marriage impossible. The child is regarded as +belonging to the gods. In Southern India, where religious +feeling runs strong, and the great Temples are the centres +of Hindu influence, this that I have called "The Traffic" +is worked upon religious lines; and so in trying to save the +children we have to contend with the perverted religious +sense. Something of the same kind exists in other parts of +India, and the traffic under another name is common in +provinces where Temple service as we have it in the South +is unknown. Again, in areas where, owing to the action of +the native Government, Temple service, as such, is not recognised, +so that children in danger of wrong cannot, strictly +speaking, be called Temple children, there is yet need of +legislation which shall touch all houses where little children +are being brought up for the same purpose; so that the +subject is immense and involved, and the thought of it +suggests a net thrown over millions of square miles of +territory, so finely woven as to be almost invisible, but +so strong in its mesh that in no place yet has it ever given +way. And the net is alive: it can feel and it can hold.</p> + +<p>But all through this book we have kept to the South—to +the area where the evil is distinctly and recognisably +religious. Others elsewhere have told their own story; +ours, though in touch with theirs (in that its whole motive +is to save the little children), is yet different in manner,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> +in that it is avowedly Christian. India is a land where +generalisations are deceptive. So we have kept to the South.</p> + +<p>We ourselves became only very gradually aware of what +was happening about us. As fact after fact came to light, +we were forced to certain conclusions which we could not +doubt were correct. But at first we were almost alone in +these conclusions, because it was impossible to take others +with us in our tedious underground hunt after facts. So +the question was often asked: "But do the children really +exist?"</p> +<div class="sidenote">"If"</div> + +<p>I have said we were almost alone, not quite. Members +of the Indian Civil Service, who are much among the people, +knew something of the custom of child-dedication, but found +themselves unable to touch it. Hindu Reformers, of course, +knew; and two or three veteran missionaries had come into +contact with it and had grieved over their helplessness to +do anything. One of these had written a pamphlet on the +subject twenty years before our Nursery work began. He +sent it to me with a sorrowful word written across it, +"Result? Nil." But we do not often meet our civilian +friends, for they are busy, and so are we; and the few +missionaries whose inspiring sympathy helped us through +those earlier years were in places far from us, and so were +all the Reformers. So perhaps it was not wonderful that, +beset by doubting letters from home and a certain +amount of not unnatural incredulity in India, we sometimes +almost wondered if we ourselves were dreaming. "Well, if +they do exist, I hope you will be able to find them!"—varied +by, "Well, if you do find them, they will be a proof of their +own existence!"—were two of the most encouraging remarks +of those early days.</p> + +<p>From the beginning of this work, as stated before, we +have tried to collect facts about the traffic and the customs +connected with it. Notes were kept of conversations with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> +Hindus and others, and these notes were compared with +what evidence we were able to gather from trustworthy +sources. These brief notes of various kinds we offer in +their simplicity. We have made no attempt to tabulate or +put into shape the information thus acquired, believing that +the notes of conversations taken down at the time, and the +quotations from letters copied as they stand, will do their +work more directly than anything more elaborate would. +Where there is a difference of detail it is because the +customs differ slightly in different places. No names are +given, for obvious reasons; but the letters were written by +men of standing, living in widely scattered districts in +the South. The evidence contained in them was carefully +sifted, and in many cases corroborated by personal investigation, +before being considered evidence: so that we believe +these chapters may be accepted as fact. Dated quotations +from the <i>Madras Mail</i> are sufficient to prove that we are +not writing ancient history:—</p> + +<p><i>January 2, 1909.</i>—"The following resolution was put +from the chair and carried unanimously: 'The Conference +(consisting of Hindu Social Reformers) cordially supports +the movement started to better the condition of unprotected +children in general, and appreciates particularly the +agitation started to protect girls and young women from +being dedicated to Temples.'"</p> +<div class="sidenote">Mysore</div> + +<p><i>May 8, 1909.</i>—"Once more we have an illustration from +Mysore of the fact that the Government of a Native State +are able to tread boldly on ground which the British +Government in India are unable to approach. At various +times, in these columns and elsewhere, has the cry raised +against the employment of servants of the gods in Hindu +Temples been uttered; but, as far as the Government are +concerned, it has fallen, if not on deaf ears, on ears stopped +to appeals of this kind, which demand action that can be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> +interpreted as a breach of that religious neutrality which is +one of the cardinal principles of British rule in India. The +agitation against it is not the agitation of the European +whose susceptibility is offended at a state of things that he +finds hard to reconcile with the reverence and purity of +Divine worship; but it is the outcry of the reverent Hindu +against one of the corrupt and degrading practices that, in +the course of centuries, have crept into his religion. In this +particular instance the Mysore Government cannot be accused +of acting hastily. As long ago as February, 1892, they issued +a circular order describing the legitimate services to be performed +in Temples by Temple women. In 1899, the Muzrai +Superintendent, Rai Bahadur A. Sreenivasa Charlu, directed +that the Temple women borne on the Nanjangud Temple +establishment should not be allowed to perform <i>tafe</i> (or +dancing) service in the Temple; but that the allowances +payable to them should be continued for their lifetime, and +that at their death the vacancies should not be filled up. +Against this order the Temple women concerned memorialised +H.H. the Maharajah as long ago as 1905, and the order +disposing of it has only just been issued. In the course of +the latter the Government say:—</p> + +<p>"'From the Shastraic authorities quoted by the two +Agamiks employed in the Muzrai Secretariat, it is observed +that the services to be performed by Temple women form +part and parcel of the worship of the god in Hindu Temples, +and that singing and dancing in the presence of the deity +are also prescribed. It is, however, observed that in the +case of Temple women personal purity and rectitude of +conduct and a vow of celibacy were considered essential. +But the high ideals entertained in ancient days have now +degenerated. . . . The Government now observe that whatever +may have been the original object of the institution +of Temple women in Temples, the state in which these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +Temple servants are now found fully justifies the action +taken by them in excluding the Temple women from every +kind of service in sacred institutions like Temples. Further, +the absence of the services of these women in certain +important Temples in the State has become established +for nearly fifteen years past, and the public have become +accustomed to the idea of doing without such services.'</p> + +<p>"The exclusion of Temple women from Temple services +obtains in Mysore in the case of a few large Temples whose +<i>Tasdik Pattis</i> have been revised. But the time has come, the +Government think, for its general application, and they +therefore direct that the policy enunciated in the abstract +given above should be extended to all Muzrai Temples in the +State. It is to be hoped that the good example thus set +will bear fruit elsewhere, where the Temple women evil is +more notorious than it was in Temples of Mysore."</p> + +<p>A copy of the Government document to which this cutting +relates lies before me. It is bravely and clearly worded, and +its intention is evident. The high-minded Hindu—and there +are such, let it not be forgotten—revolts from the degradation +and pollution of this travesty of religion, and will +abolish it where he can. <i>But let it be remembered that, +good as this law is, it does not and it cannot touch the +great Secret Traffic itself. That will go on behind the law, +and behind the next that is made, and the next, unless +measures are devised to ensure its being thoroughly enforced.</i></p> + +<p>Cuttings from newspapers, quotations, evidence—it is not +interesting reading, and yet we look to our friends to +go through to the end with us. Let us pause for a moment +here and remember the purpose of it all; and may the +thought of some little, loved child make an atmosphere for +these chapters!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>Blue Book Evidence</h3> + +<div class='center'> +"The precipitous sides of difficult questions."—E. B. B.<br /><br /> +</div> + + +<div class='cap'>OUR first evidence consists of abridged extracts from the +Census Report for 1901. After explaining the different +names by which Temple women are known in +different parts of the Madras Presidency, the Report continues: +"The servants of the gods, who subsist by dancing and music +and the practice of 'the oldest profession in the world,' are +partly recruited by admissions and even purchases from other +classes. . . . The rise of the Caste and its euphemistic name +seem to date from the ninth and tenth centuries, during which +much activity prevailed in South India in the matter of building +Temples and elaborating the services held in them. . . . +The duties then, as now, were to fan the idol with Tibetan +ox-tails, to carry the sacred light, and to sing and dance +before the god when he is carried in procession. Inscriptions +show that in <span class="smcap">a.d.</span> 1004 the great Temple of the Chola +king at Tanjore had attached to it four hundred women of +the Temple, who lived in free quarters in the four streets +round it, and were allowed tax-free land out of its endowments. +Other Temples had similar arrangements. . . . At the +present day they form a regular Caste, having its own laws +of inheritance, its own customs and rules of etiquette, and +its own councils to see that all these are followed, and they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> +hold a position which is perhaps without a parallel in any +other country. . . .</div> + +<p>"The daughters of the Caste who are brought up to follow +the Caste profession are carefully taught dancing and singing, +the art of dressing well, ;. . . and their success in keeping +up their clientele is largely due to the contrast which they +thus present to the ordinary Hindu housewife, whose ideas +are bounded by the day's dinners and babies."</p> + +<p>Closely allied to this Caste is that formed by the Temple +musicians, who with the Temple woman are "now practically +the sole repository of Indian music, the system of which is +probably one of the oldest in the world." In certain districts +the Report states that a custom obtains among certain castes, +under which a family which has no sons must dedicate one +of its daughters to Temple service. The daughter selected is +taken to a Temple and married there to a god, the marriage +symbol being put on her as in a real marriage. Henceforth +she belongs to the god.</p> + +<p>Writing in 1904, a member of the Indian Civil Service +says: "I heard of a case of dedication (three girls) at A. +at the beginning of this year, but I could not get any evidence. +The cases very rarely indeed come up officially, as nearly every +Hindu is interested in keeping them dark." We, too, have +had the same difficulty, and the evidence we now submit is +doubly valuable because of its source. It is very rarely that +we have found it possible to get behind the scenes sufficiently +to obtain reliable information from those most concerned in +this traffic.</p> + +<p>The head priest of one of our Temples admitted to a +friend who was watching for <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'opportunties'">opportunities</ins> to get information +for us that the "marriage to the god is effected privately by +the Temple priest at the Temple woman's house, with the +usual marriage-symbol ceremony. To <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'aviod'">avoid</ins> the Penal Code +(which forbids the marriage of children to gods) a nominal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> +bridegroom is sometimes brought for the wedding day to +become the nominal husband. This Caste is recruited by +secret adoption."</p> + +<p>A Temple woman's son, now living the ordinary life apart +from his clan, explains the very early marriage thus: "If +not married, they will not be considered worthy of honour. +Before the children reach the age of ten they must be married. . . . +They become the property of the Temple priests and +worshippers who go to the Temple to chant the sacred +songs."</p> +<div class="sidenote">"The Child should be about Eight"</div> + +<p>A Temple woman herself told a friend of ours: "The child +is dressed like a bride, and taken with another girl of the +same community, dressed like a boy in the garb of a bridegroom. +They both go to the Temple and worship the idol. +This ceremony is common, and performed openly in the +streets." In a later letter from the same friend further +details are given: "The child, who should be about eight +or nine years old, goes as if to worship the idol in the +Temple. There the marriage symbol is hidden in a garland, +and the garland is put over the idol, after which it is taken +to the child's home and put round her neck." After this she +is considered married to the god.</p> + +<p>A young Temple woman in a town near Dohnavur told +us she had been given to the Temple when she was five years +old. Her home was in the north country, but she did not +remember it. She had, of course, understood nothing of the +meaning of the ceremony of marriage. She only remembered +the pretty flowers and general rejoicing and pleasure. Afterwards, +when she began to understand, she was not happy, but +she gradually got accustomed to it. Her adopted relations +were all the friends she had. She was fond of them and +they of her. Her "husband" was one of the Temple priests.</p> + +<p>A Hindu woman known to us left home with her little +daughter and wandered about as an ascetic. She went to a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> +famous Temple, where it is the custom for such as desire to +become ascetics to enter the life by conforming to certain +ceremonies ordained by the priests. She shaved her head, +took off her jewels, wore a Saivite necklet of berries, and +was known as a devotee. She had little knowledge of the +life before she entered it, and only gradually became aware +of the character borne by most of her fellow-devotees. +When she knew, she fled from them and returned to her own +village and the secular life, finding it better than the +religious.</p> +<div class="sidenote">How she is Trained</div> + +<p>In telling us about it she said: "I expected whiteness, I +found blackness." She told us that she constantly came into +contact with Temple women, none of whom had chosen the +life as she and her fellow-ascetics had chosen theirs. "Always +the one who is to dance before the gods is given to the life +when she is very young. Otherwise she could not be properly +trained. Many babies are brought by their parents and given +to Temple women for the sake of merit. It is very meritorious +to give a child to the gods. Often the parents are +poor but of good Caste. Always suitable compensation and +a 'joy gift' is given by the Temple women to the parents. +It is an understood custom, and ensures that the child is a +gift, not a loan. The amount depends upon the age and +beauty of the child. If the child is old enough to miss her +mother, she is very carefully watched until she has forgotten +her. Sometimes she is shut up in the back part of the house, +and punished if she runs out into the street. The punishment +is severe enough to frighten the child. Sometimes it is branding +with a hot iron upon a place which does not show, as +under the arm; sometimes nipping with the nail till the +skin breaks; sometimes a whipping. After the child is +reconciled to her new life, occasionally her people are allowed +to come if they wish; and in special circumstances she pays +a visit to her old home. But this is rare. If she has been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> +adopted as an infant, she knows nothing of her own relations, +but thinks of her adopted mother as her own mother. As +soon as she can understand she is taught all evil and trained +to think it is good."</p> + +<p>As to her education, the movements of the dance are taught +very early, and the flexible little limbs are rendered more +flexible by a system of massage. In all ways the natural +grace of the child is cultivated and developed, but always +along lines which lead far away from the freedom and innocence +of childhood. As it is important she should learn a +great deal of poetry, she is taught to read (and with this +object in view she is sometimes sent to the mission school, +if there is one near her home). The poetry is almost entirely +of a debased character; and so most insidiously, by story and +allusion, the child's mind is familiarised with sin; and before +she knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good, the +instinct which would have been her guide is tampered with +and perverted, till the poor little mind, thus bewildered and +deceived, is incapable of choice.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<h3>"Very Common in those Parts"</h3> + +<div class='center'> +"The dark enigma of permitted wrong."—F. R. H.<br /><br /> +</div> + + +<div class='cap'>THE mixture of secrecy and openness described by the +Temple woman is confirmed by Hindus well acquainted +with Temple affairs. "All the Temple women are married +to the gods. In former times the marriages were conducted +upon a grand scale, but now they are clandestinely performed +in the Temple, with the connivance of the priest, and with +freedom to deny it if questioned. Some ceremonies are performed +in the Temple, the rest at home. Sometimes the +marriage symbol is blessed by the priest, and taken home to +the child to be worn by her. In all these cases the priest +himself has to tie it round her neck. The previous arrangements +for the marriage are made by the priests with the +guardians of the child who is to be initiated into the order +of Temple women.</div> + +<p>"The ceremony of tying on the marriage symbol is never +in our district performed in public. None but intimate friends +know about it. There is a secret understanding between the +priests and the Temple women concerned. When the time +arrives for the marriage symbol to be tied on, after the usual +ceremonies the priest hands over the symbol hidden in a +garland of flowers.</p> + +<p>"Of course, there is music on the occasion. When outsiders<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> +ask what all the noise is about, the people who know do not +say the real thing. They say it is a birthday or other festival +day. The symbol is tied on when the child is between five and +eleven, after which it is considered unholy to perform the +marriage ceremony. The symbol is at first hidden from the +gaze of the public. Later it is shown publicly, but not while +the girl is still young."</p> + +<p>This tallies exactly with our own experience. More than +once an eager child in her simplicity has shown me the +marriage symbol, a small gold ornament tied round her neck, +or hanging on a fine gold chain; but the Temple woman in +whose charge she was has always reproved her sharply, and +made her cover it up under her other jewels, or under the +folds of her dress.</p> + +<p>The reason for this secrecy, which, however, is not universal, +is, as is inferred in the evidence of the head priest, because it is +known to the Temple authorities that what they are doing is +illegal; though, as a matter of fact, as will be seen later, +prosecutions are rare, and convictions rarer still.</p> + +<p>The Caste is recruited, as the Blue Book states, by "admissions +and even purchases from other classes." On this point +a Brahman says: "When the Temple woman has no child, she +adopts a girl or girls, and the children become servants of the +gods. Sometimes children are found who, on account of a vow +made by their parents, become devotees of the gods." Another +Brahman, an orthodox Hindu, writes: "In some districts people +vow that they will dedicate one of their children to the Temple +if they are blessed with a family. Temple women often adopt +orphans, to whom they bequeath their possessions. In most +cases the orphans are bought."</p> +<div class="sidenote">Convictions are Rare</div> + +<p>The position of the Temple woman has been a perplexity to +many. The Census Report touches the question: "It is one +of the many inconsistencies of the Hindu religion, that though +their profession is repeatedly vehemently condemned in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> +Shastras (sacred books), it has always received the countenance +of the Church." Their duties are all religious. A well-informed +Hindu correspondent thus enumerates them: "First +they are to be one of the twenty-one persons who are in +charge of the key of the outer door of the Temple; second, to +open the outer door daily; third, to burn camphor, and go +round the idol when worship is being performed; fourth, to +honour public meetings with their presence; fifth, to mount +the car and stand near the god during car-festivals." The +orthodox Hindu quoted before remarks on the "high honour," +as the Temple child is taught to consider it, the marriage to the +god confers upon her.</p> + +<p>We have purposely confined ourselves almost entirely to +official and Hindu evidence so far, but cannot forbear to add to +this last word the confirmatory experience of our own Temple +children worker: "When I try to persuade the Hindus to let us +have their little ones instead of giving them to the Temples +they say: 'But to give them to Temples is honour and glory +and merit to us for ever; to give them to you is dishonour +and shame and demerit. So why should we give them to +you?'"</p> + +<p>We have said that convictions are rare. This is because of +the great difficulty in obtaining such evidence as is required by +the law as it stands at present. One case may be quoted as +typical. A few years ago, in one of our country towns, a +father gave his child in marriage to the idol "with some +pomp," as the report before us says. He was prosecuted, but +the prosecution failed, for the priest and the parents united in +denying the fact of the marriage; and the evidence for the +defence was so skilfully cooked that it was found impossible +to prove an offence against the Penal Code.</p> + +<p>Once, deeply stirred over the case of a little girl of six who +was about to be married to a god as her elder sisters had been +a few months previously, we wrote to a magistrate of wide<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> +experience and proved sympathy with the work. His letter +speaks for itself:—</p> + +<p>"I have been waiting some little time before answering +your letter, because I wanted time to think over your problem. +As far as I can make out, there is no way in the world of preventing +a woman marrying her own daughter to the gods at +any age; but you can prosecute her if she does. If you could +get her into prison for marrying the elder girls, the younger +might be safe; but I don't think you can do anything directly +for her. She is not being 'unlawfully detained'; and even if +she were, all you could do would be to get her returned to her +parents and guardians, which would be worse than useless.</p> + +<p>"The question is whether you can hope to get a conviction +in the other case.</p> + +<p>"I don't see how you can. You can say in court that +you saw the little girls with their marriage symbol on, and +that they said they had been married to the god. The +little girls will deny it all, and say they never set eyes on +you before. Moreover, I don't think the ordinary Court +would be satisfied without some other evidence of the fact +of dedication; and considering how everyone would work +against you, I think you would find it extraordinarily hard. +The local police would be worse than useless."</p> + +<p>To every man his work: it appears to us that expert +knowledge is required, and ample means and leisure, if the +expenditure involved is to result in anything worth while; +and a careful study of all available information regarding +prosecutions, convictions, and, I may add, sentences, has +convinced us, at least, of the futility of such attempts from +a missionary point of view: for even if convictions were +certain, <i>as long as the law hands the child back to its +guardians after their unfitness to guard it from the worst +that can befall it has been proved</i>, so long do we feel +unable to rejoice exceedingly over even the six months'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +rigorous imprisonment, which in more than one case has +been the legal interpretation of the phrase "up to a term +of ten years," which is the penalty attached to this offence +in the Indian Penal Code.</p> + +<p>In this connection it may be well to quote a paragraph +from the <i>Indian Social Reformer:</i>—</p> + +<p>"The Public Prosecutor at Madras applied for admission +of a revision petition against the order of the Sessions +Judge, made in the following circumstances:—</p> +<div class="sidenote">Ten years—Six Months</div> + +<p>"One, S., a priest, was convicted by the first-class subdivisional +magistrate of having performed the ceremony of +dedicating a young girl in the Temple of N., and thereby +committing an offence punishable under Section 372 of the +Penal Code. He accordingly sentenced him to six months' +rigorous imprisonment. On appeal, the Sessions Judge reduced +the sentence to two months, on the ground that the +rite complained against was a very common one in those +parts. The Public Prosecutor based his petition on the +ground that it had been held in a previous case 'that +such a dedication was an offence, and that it was highly +desirable that the interests of minors should be properly +protected.' This protection, it was submitted, could only be +vouchsafed by making offending people understand that they +would render themselves liable to heavy punishment. The +present sentence would not have a deterrent effect, and he +accordingly applied for an enhancement of the same. His +lordship admitted the petition, and directed notice to the +accused."</p> + +<p>It is something to know the six months' sentence was +confirmed. But is not the fact that a Sessions Judge +should commute such a sentence, on the ground that the +offence was "very common," enough to suggest a doubt as +to the deterrent effect of even this punishment?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span></p> +<h3>NOTE</h3> + +<div class='blockquot'> +<p><b>During the last few months the Secretary of State for India +has addressed official inquiries to the Government of India +regarding the dedication of children to Hindu gods, and the +measures necessary for the protection of such children.</b></p> + +<p><b>If the anticipated change in the law is to result in more +than a Bill on paper—a blind, behind which things will go +on as before only more out of sight—it is, we believe, needful +to ensure:</b></p> + +<div class="hang1"><b>1st. Protection for all children found to be in moral +danger, whether or not they are or may be dedicated +to gods.</b><br /><br /></div> + +<div class="hang1"><b>2nd. That, irrespective of nationality or religion, whoever +has worked for and won the deliverance of the +child should be allowed to act as guardian to it.</b><br /><br /></div> + +<div class="hang1"><b>3rd. That such a Bill shall be most thoroughly enforced.</b><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<p><b><i>February, 1912.</i></b></p> + +<div class='right'> +To face p. 268.<br /> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<h3>On the Side of the Oppressors there was Power</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>I HAVE been looking over my note-book, in which there +are some hundreds of letters, clippings from newspapers, +and records of conversations bearing upon the +Temple children. It is difficult to know which to choose +to complete the picture already outlined in the preceding +chapters. A mere case record would be wearisome; and +indeed the very word "case" sounds curiously inappropriate +when one thinks of the nurseries and their little inhabitants; +or looks up to see mischievous eyes watching a +chance to stop the uninteresting writing; or feels, suddenly, +soft arms round one's neck, as a baby, strayed from her +own domain, climbs unexpectedly up from behind and +makes dashes at the typewriter keyboard. Such little +living interruptions are too frequent to allow of these +chapters being anything but human.</div> + +<p>The newspaper clippings are usually concerned with +public movements, resolutions, petitions, and the like. +There is one startling little paragraph from a London +paper, dated July 7, 1906; the ignorance of the subject +so flippantly dealt with is its only apology. No one could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> +have written so had he understood. The occasion was the +memorial addressed to the Governor in Council by workers +for the children in the Bombay Presidency:—</p> + +<p>"Society must be very select in Poona. There has been +a custom there for young ladies to be married to selected +gods. You would have thought that to be the bride of a +god was a good enough marriage for anyone. But it is +not good enough for Poona." It is time that such writing +became impossible for any Englishman.</p> + +<p>In India the feeling of the best men, whether Hindu or +Christian, is strongly against the dedication of little +children to Temples, and some of the newspapers of the +land speak out and say so in unmistakable language. The +<i>Indian Times</i> speaks of the little ones being "steeped deep +from their childhood" in all that is most wrong. A Hindu, +writing in the <i>Epiphany</i>, puts the matter clearly when +he says: "Finally, one can hardly conceive of anything +more debasing than to dedicate innocent little girls to gods +in the name of religion, and then leave them with the +Temple priests"; and another writer in the same paper +asks a question which those who say that Hinduism is +good enough for India might do well to ponder: "If this +is not a Hindu practice, how can it take place in a Temple +and no priest stop it, though all know? . . . In London +religion makes wickedness go away; but in Bombay religion +brings wickedness, and Government has to try to +make it go away." This immense contrast of fact and of +ideal contains our answer to all who would put sin in +India on a level with sin in England.</p> + +<p>Christian writers naturally, whether in the <i>Christian +Patriot</i> of the South or the <i>Bombay Guardian</i> of the West, +have no doubt about the existence of the evil or the need for +its removal. They, too, connect it distinctly with religion, and +recognise its tremendous influence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span></p> + +<p>But we turn from the printed page, and go straight to the +houses where the little children live. The witnesses now are +missionaries or trusted Indian workers.</p> +<div class="sidenote">"She Belongs to the god"</div> + +<p>"There were thirteen little children in the houses connected +with the Temple last time I visited them. I saw the little baby—such +a dear, fat, laughing little thing. It was impossible +to get it, and I see no hope of getting any of the other +children."</p> + +<p>"When I was visiting in S. a woman came to talk to me with +her three little children. Two of them were girls, very pretty, +'fair' little children. 'What work does your husband do?' +I asked; and she answered, 'I am married to the god.' Then +I knew who she was, and that her children were in danger. I +have tried since to get them, but in vain. Everyone says that +Temple women never give up their little girls. These two +were dedicated at their birth. This is only one instance. We +have many Temple women reading with us, and many of the +little children attend our schools."</p> + +<p>"There are not scores but hundreds of these children in the +villages of this district. Here certain families, living ordinary +lives in their own villages, dedicate one of their children as +a matter of course to the gods. They always choose the +prettiest. It is a recognised custom, and no one thinks anything +of it. The child so dedicated lives with her parents +afterwards as if nothing had happened, only she may not be +married in the real way. She belongs to the god and his +priests and worshippers."</p> + +<p>"The house was very orderly and nice. I sat on the +verandah and talked to the women, who were all well educated +and so attractive with their pretty dress and jewels. They +seemed bright, but, of course, would not show me their real +feelings, and I could only hold surface conversation with +them."</p> + +<p>We are often asked if the Temple houses are inside the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> +walls which surround all the great Temples in this part of +the country. They are usually in the streets outside. Most +of the Brahman Temples are surrounded by a square of streets, +and the houses are in the square or near it. There is nothing +to distinguish them from other houses in the street. It is only +when you go inside that you feel the difference. An hour on +the shady verandah of one of these houses is very revealing. +You see the children run up to welcome a tall, fine-looking +man, who pats their heads in the kindest way, and as he passes +you recognise him. Next time you see him in the glory of his +office, you wish you could forget where you saw him last.</p> + +<p>Sometimes we are asked who the children are. How do +the Temple women get them in the first instance?</p> + +<p>We have already answered this question by quotations +from the Census Report, and by statements of Hindus well +acquainted with the subject. It should be added that often +the Temple woman having daughters of her own dedicates +them, and as a rule it is only when she has none that she +adopts other little ones. A few extracts from letters and +notes from conversations are subjoined, as they show how +the system of adoption works:—</p> + +<p>"We are in trouble over a little girl, the daughter of +wealthy parents, who have dedicated her to the gods and +refuse to change their mind. The child was ill some time +ago, and they vowed then that if she recovered they would +dedicate her."</p> + +<p>"The poor woman's husband was very ill, and the mother +vowed her little girl as an offering if he recovered. He did +recover, and so the child has been given."</p> + +<p>"It is the custom of the Caste to dedicate the eldest girl +of a certain chosen family, and nothing will turn them from +it. One child must be given in each generation."</p> + +<p>"She is of good caste, but very poor. Her husband died +two months before the baby was born, and as it was a girl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> +she was much troubled as to its future, for she knew she +would never have enough money to marry it suitably. A +Temple woman heard of the baby, and at once offered to adopt +it. She persuaded the mother by saying: 'You see, if it is +married to the gods, it will never be a widow like you. It +will always be well cared for and have honour, and be a sign +of good fortune to our people—unlike you!' (It is considered +a sign of good omen to see a Temple woman the first thing +in the morning; but the sight of a widow at any time is a +thing to be avoided.) The poor mother could not resist this, +and she has been persuaded."</p> +<div class="sidenote">"Not Wrong because Religious"</div> + +<p>"The mother is a poor, delicate widow, with several boys +as well as this baby girl. She cannot support them all +properly, and her relatives do not seem inclined to help her. +The Temple women have heard of her, and they sent a woman +to negotiate. The mother knew that we would take the little +one rather than that she should be forced to give it up to +Temple women; but she said when we talked with her: 'It +cannot be wrong to give it to the holy gods! This is our +religion; and it may be wrong to you, but it is not wrong +to us.' So she refused to give us the baby, and seems inclined +to go away with it. It is like that constantly. The thing +cannot be wrong because it is religious!"</p> + +<p>"I heard of two little orphan girls whose guardian, an uncle, +had married again, and did not want to have the marriage +expenses of his two little nieces to see to. So at the last +great festival he brought the children and dedicated them +to the Saivite Temple, and the Temple women heard about +it before I did, and at once secured them. I went as soon +as I could to see if we could not get them, but she would +not listen to us. She said they were her sister's children, +and that she had adopted them out of love for her dead +sister."</p> + +<p>A lawyer was consulted as to this case, but it was impossible<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> +to trace the uncle or to prove that the children were +not related to the Temple woman. Above all, it was impossible +to prove that she meant to do anything illegal. So nothing +could be done.</p> + +<p>As a rule the Temple woman receives little beyond bare +sustenance from the Temple itself. In some Temples when +the little child is formally dedicated, she (or her guardian) +receives two pounds, and her funeral expenses are promised. +But though there is little stated remuneration, the Temple +woman is not poor. Poverty may come. If she breaks the +law of her caste, or offends against the etiquette of that +caste, she is immediately excommunicated, and then she +may become very poor. Or if she has spent her money +freely, or not invested it wisely, her old age may be cheerless +enough. But we have not found any lack of money among +the Sisterhood. No offer of compensation for all expenses +connected with a child has ever drawn them to part with +her. They offer large sums for little ones who will be useful +to them. We have several times known as much as an offer +of one hundred rupees made and accepted in cases where +the little child (in each case a mere infant) was one of +special promise. A letter, which incidentally mentions the +easy circumstances in which many are, may be of interest:—</p> + +<p>"K. is a little girl in our mission school. Her mother is +a favourite Temple woman high up in the profession. She +dances while the other women sing, and sometimes she gets +as much as three or four hundred rupees for her dancing. She +is well educated, can recite the 'Ramayana' (Indian epic), and +knows a little English. She spends some time in her own +house, but is often away visiting other Temples. Just now +she is away, and little K. is with her. . . . Humanly speaking, +she will never let her go."</p> +<div class="sidenote">The Pressure Tells</div> + +<p>The education of the mission school is appreciated because +it makes the bright little child still brighter; and we, who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> +know the home life of these children, are glad when they +are given one brief opportunity to learn what may help +them in the difficult days to come. We have known of +some little ones who, influenced by outside teaching, tried +to escape the life they began to feel was wrong, but in +each case they were overborne, for on the side of the +oppressors there was power. I was in a Temple house +lately, and noticed the doors—the massive iron-bossed doors +are a feature of all well-built Hindu houses of the South. +How could a little child shut up in such a room, with its +door shut, if need be, to the outside inquisitive world—how +could she resist the strength that would force the garland +round her neck? She might tear it off if she dared, but the +little golden symbol had been hidden under the flowers, and +the priest had blessed it; the deed was done—she was married +to the god. And only those who have seen the effect of a +few weeks of such a life upon a child, who has struggled in +vain against it, can understand how cowed she may become, +how completely every particle of courage and independence +of spirit may be caused to disappear; and how what we had +known as a bright, sparkling child, full of the fearless, confiding +ways of a child, may become distrustful and constrained, +quite incapable of taking a stand on her own account, or of +responding to any effort we might be able to make from +outside. It is as if the child's spirit were broken, and those +who know what she has gone through cannot wonder if +it is.</p> + +<p>And then comes something we dread more: the life begins +to attract. The sense of revolt passes as the will weakens; +the persistent, steady pressure tells. And when we see her +next, perhaps only three months later, the child has passed +the boundary, and belongs to us no more.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> + +<h3>And there was None to Save</h3> + +<div class='poem'> +Thou canst conceive our highest and our lowest<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pulses of nobleness and aches of shame.</span><br /> +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">Frederic W. H. Myers.</span><br /> +</div><br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='cap'>IN speaking of these matters I have tried to keep far +from that which is only sentiment, and have resolutely +banished all imagination. I would that the writing could +be as cold in tone as the criticism of those who consider +everything other than polished ice almost amusing—to judge +by the way they handle it, dismissing it with an airy grace +and a hurting adjective. Would they be quite so cool, we +wonder, if the little wronged girl were their own? But we +do not write for such as these. The thought of the cold eyes +would freeze the thoughts before they formed. We write for +the earnest-hearted, who are not ashamed to confess they care. +And yet we write with reserve even though we write for them, +because nothing else is possible. And this crushing back of +the full tide makes its fulness almost oppressive. It is as +though a flame leaped from the page and scorched the brain +that searched for words quite commonplace and quiet.</div> + +<p>The finished product of the Temple system of education +is something so distorted that it cannot be described. But it +should never be forgotten that the thing from which we recoil +did not choose to be fashioned so. It was as wax—a little,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> +tender, innocent child—in the hands of a wicked power when +the fashioning process began. Let us deal gently with those +who least deserve our blame, and reserve our condemnation +for those responsible for the creation of the Temple woman. +Is it fair that a helpless child, who has never once been given +the choice of any other life, should be held responsible afterwards +for living the life to which alone she has been trained? +Is it fair to call her by a name which belongs by right to one +who is different, in that her life is self-chosen? No word can +cut too keenly at the root of this iniquity; but let us deal +gently with the mishandled flower. Let hard words be +restrained where the woman is concerned. Let it be remembered +she is not responsible for being what she is.</p> + +<p>In a Canadian book of songs there is a powerful little poem +about an artist who painted one who was beautiful but not +good. He hid all trace of what was; he painted a babe at her +breast.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +I painted her as she might have been<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If the Worst had been the Best.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>And a connoisseur came and looked at the picture. To him it +spoke of holiest things; he thought it a Madonna:—</div> + +<div class='poem'> +So I painted a halo round her hair,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I sold her and took my fee;</span><br /> +And she hangs in the church of St. Hilaire,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where you and all may see.</span><br /> +</div> +<div class="sidenote">"It Crowns with the Golden Crown"</div> + +<div class='unindent'>Sometimes as we have looked at the face of one whose training +was not complete we have seen as the artist saw: we have +seen her "as she might have been if the worst had been the +best." There was no halo round her hair, only its travesty—something +that told of crowned and glorified sin; and yet we +could catch more than a glimpse of the perfect "might have +been." So we say, let blame fall lightly on the one who least<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> +deserves it. Perhaps if our ears were not so full of the sounds +of the world, we should hear a tenderer judgment pronounced +than man's is likely to be: "Unto the damsel thou shalt do +nothing. . . . For there was none to save her."</div> + +<p>Our work at Dohnavur is entirely among the little children +who are innocent of wrong. We rarely touch these lives which +have been stained and spoiled; but we could not forbear to +write a word of clear explanation about them, lest any should +mistake the matter and confuse things that differ.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>We leave the subject with relief. Few who have followed +us so far know how much it has cost to lead the way into these +polluted places. Not that we would make much of any personal +cost; but that we would have it known that nothing save a +pressure which could not be resisted could force us to touch +pitch. And yet why should we shrink from it when the purpose +which compels is the saving of the children? Brave words +written by a brave woman come and help us to do it:—</p> + +<p>"This I say emphatically, that the evil which we have +grappled with to save one of our own dear ones does not sully. +It is the evil that we read about in novels and newspapers for +our own amusement; it is the evil we weakly give way to in +our lives; above all, it is the destroying evil that we have +refused so much as to know about in our absorbing care for +our own alabaster skin; it is that evil which defiles a woman. +But the evil that we have grappled with in a life and death +struggle to save a soul for whom Christ died does not sully; it +clothes from head to foot with the white robe, it crowns with +the golden crown."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>There remains only one thing more to show. It was +evening in an Indian town at a time of festival. The great +pillared courts of the Temple were filled with worshippers and +pilgrims from all over the Tamil country and from as far north<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> +as Benares. Men who eagerly grasped at anything printed in +Sanscrit and knew nothing of our vernacular were scattered in +little groups among the crowd, and we had freedom to go to them +and give them what we could, and talk to the many others who +would listen. Outside the moonlight was shining on the dark +pile of the Temple tower, and upon the palms planted along the +wall, which rises in its solid strength 30 feet high and encloses +the whole Temple precincts. There were very few people out in +the moonlight. It was too quiet there for them, too pure in its +silvery whiteness. Inside the hall, with its great-doored rooms +and recesses, there were earth-lights in abundance, flaring +torches, smoking lamps and lanterns. And there was noise—the +noise of words and of wailing Indian music. For up near +the closed doors which open on the shrine within which the idol +sat surrounded by a thousand lights, there was a band of +musicians playing upon stringed instruments; sometimes they +broke out excitedly and banged their drums and made their +conch-shells blare.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there was a tumultuous rush of every produceable +sound; tom-tom, conch-shell, cymbal, flute, stringed instruments +and bells burst into chorus together. The idol was going to +be carried out from his innermost shrine behind the lights; and +as the great doors moved slowly, the excitement became intense, +the thrill of it quivered through all the hall and sent a tremor +through the crowd out to the street. But we passed out and +away, and turned into a quiet courtyard known to us and +talked to the women there.</p> +<div class="sidenote">The Harebell Child</div> + +<p>There were three, one the grandmother of the house, one +her daughter, and another a friend. The grandmother and her +daughter were Temple women, the eldest grandchild had been +dedicated only a few months before. There were three more +children, one Mungie, a lovable child of six, one a pretty three-year-old +with a mop of beautiful curls, the youngest a baby +just then asleep in its hammock; a little foot dangled out of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> +the hammock, which was hung from a rafter in the verandah +roof. We had come to talk to the grandmother and mother +about the dear little six-year-old child, and hoped to find their +heart.</p> + +<p>But we seemed to talk to stone, hard as the stone of the +Temple tower that rose above the roofs, black against the purity +of the moonlit sky. It was a bitter half-hour. Some hours are +like stabs to remember, or like the pitiless pressing down of an +iron on living flesh. At last we could bear it no longer, and +rose to go. As we left we heard the grandmother turn to her +daughter's friend and say: "Though she heap gold on the floor +as high as Mungie's neck, I would never let her go to those +degraded Christians!"</p> + +<p>Once again it was festival in the white light of the full +moon, and once again we went to the same old Hindu town; for +moonlight nights are times of opportunity, and the cool of +evening brings strength for more than can be attempted in the +heat of the day. And this time an adopted mother spoke +words that ate like acid into steel as we listened.</p> + +<p>Her adopted child is a slip of a girl, slim and light, with the +ways of a shy thing of the woods. She made me think of +a harebell growing all by itself in a rocky place, with stubbly +grass about and a wide sky overhead. She was small and very +sweet, and she slid on to my knee and whispered her lessons +in my ear in the softest of little voices. She had gone to +school for nearly a year, and liked to tell me all she knew. +"Do you go to school now?" I asked her. She hung her +head and did not answer. "Don't you go?" I repeated. +She just breathed "No," and the little head dropped lower. +"Why not?" I whispered as softly. The child hesitated. +Some dim apprehension that the reason would not seem +good to me troubled her, perhaps, for she would not answer. +"Tell the Ammal, silly child!" said her foster-mother, who +was standing near. "Tell her you are learning to dance and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> +sing and get ready for the gods!" "I am learning to dance +and sing and get ready for the gods," repeated the child +obediently, lifting large, clear eyes to my face for a moment +as if to read what was written there. A group of men stood +near us. I turned to them. "Is it right to give this little +child to a life like that?" I asked them then. They smiled +a tolerant, kindly smile. "Certainly no one would call it +right, but it is our custom," and they passed on. There was +no sense of the pity of it:—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +Poor little life that toddles half an hour,<br /> +Crowned with a flower or two, and then an end!<br /> +</div> + +<p>We had come to the town an hour or two earlier, and had +seen, walking through the throng round the Temple, two bright +young girls in white. No girls of their age, except Temple +girls, would have been out at that hour of the evening, and +we followed them home. They stopped when they reached +the house where little Mungie lived, and then, turning, saw +us and salaamed. One of the two was Mungie's elder sister. +Little Mungie ran out to meet her sister, and, seeing us, +eagerly asked for a book. So we stood in the open moonlight, +and the little one tried to spell out the words of a +text to show us she had not forgotten all she had learned, +even though she, too, had been taken from school, and had +to learn pages of poetry and the Temple dances and songs.</p> + +<p>The girls were jewelled and crowned with flowers, and they +looked like flowers themselves; flowers in moonlight have a +mystery about them not perceived in common day, but the +mystery here was something wholly sorrowful. Everything +about the children—they were hardly more than children—showed +care and refinement of taste. There was no +violent clash of colour; the only vivid colour note was the +rich red of a silk underskirt that showed where the clinging<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> +folds of the white gold-embroidered <i>sari</i> were draped a little +at the side. The effect was very dainty, and the girls' manners +were modest and gentle. No one who did not know what the +pretty dress meant that night would have dreamed it was but +the mesh of a net made of white and gold.</p> + +<p>But with all their pleasant manners it was evident the +two girls looked upon us with a distinct aloofness. They +glanced at us much as a brilliant bird of the air might be +supposed to regard poultry, fowls of the cooped-up yard. +Then they melted into the shadow of an archway behind the +moonlit space, and we went on to another street and came +upon little Sellamal, the harebell child; and, sitting down on +the verandah which opens off the street, we heard her lessons +as we have told, and got into conversation with her adopted +mother.</p> + +<p>We found her interested in listening to what we had +to say about dedicating children to the service of the gods. +She was extremely intelligent, and spoke Tamil such as one +reads in books set for examination. It was easy to talk +with her, for she saw the point of everything at once, and +did not need to have truth broken up small and crumbled +down and illustrated in half a dozen different ways before it +could be understood. But the half-amused smile on the clever +face told us how she regarded all we were saying. What was +life and death earnestness to us was a game of words to her; +a play the more to be enjoyed because, drawn by the sight +of two Missie Ammals sitting together on the verandah, +quite a little crowd had gathered, and were listening appreciatively.</p> +<div class="sidenote">"Now Listen to my Way"</div> + +<p>"That is your way of looking at it; now listen to my way. +Each land in all the world has its own customs and religion. +Each has that which is best for it. Change, and you invite +confusion and much unpleasantness. Also by changing you +express your ignorance and pride. Why should the child<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> +presume to greater wisdom than its father? And now listen +to me! I will show you the matter from our side!" ("Yes, +venerable mother, continue!" interposed the crowd encouragingly.) +"You seem to feel it a sad thing that little +Sellamal should be trained as we are training her. You +seem to feel it wrong, and almost, perhaps, disgrace. But +if you could see my eldest daughter the centre of a thousand +Brahmans and high-caste Hindus! If you could see every +eye in that ring fixed upon her, upon her alone! If you +could see the absorption—hardly do they dare to breathe +lest they should miss a point of her beauty! Ah, you would +know, could you see it all, upon whose side the glory lies +and upon whose the shame! Compare that moment of +exaltation with the grovelling life of your Christians! Low-minded, +flesh-devouring, Christians, discerning not the +difference between clean and unclean! Bah! And you +would have my little Sellamal leave all this for that!"</p> + +<p>"But afterwards? What comes afterwards?"</p> + +<p>"What know I? What care I? That is a matter for the +gods."</p> + +<p>The child Sellamal listened to this, glancing from face to +face with wistful, wondering eyes; and as I looked down +upon her she looked up at me, and I looked deep into those +eyes—such innocent eyes. Then something seemed to move +the child, and she held up her face for a kiss.</p> + +<p>This is only one Temple town. There are many such in +the South. These things are not easy to look at for long. +We turn away with burning eyes, and only for the children's +sake could we ever look again. For their sake look again.</p> +<div class="sidenote">The World turned Black</div> + +<p>It was early evening in a home of rest on the hills. A +medical missionary, a woman of wide experience, was talking +to a younger woman about the Temple children. She had +lived for some time, unknowingly, next door to a Temple +house in an Indian city. Night after night she said she was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> +wakened by the cries of children—frightened cries, indignant +cries, sometimes sharp cries as of pain. She inquired in the +morning, but was always told the children had been punished +for some naughtiness. "They were only being beaten." She +was not satisfied, and tried to find out more through the +police. But she feared the police were bribed to tell nothing, +for she found out nothing through them. Later, by means +of her medical work, she came full upon the truth. . . . +"Why leave spaces with dotted lines? Why not write the +whole fact?" wrote one who did not know what she asked. +Once more we repeat it, to write the whole fact is impossible.</p> + +<p>It is true this is not universal; in our part of the country +it is not general, for the Temple child is considered of too +much value to be lightly injured. But it is true beyond a +doubt that inhumanity which may not be described is possible +at any time in any Temple house.</p> + +<p>Out in the garden little groups of missionaries walked +together and talked. From a room near came the sound +of a hymn. It was peaceful and beautiful everywhere, and +the gold of sunset filled the air, and made the garden a +glory land of radiant wonderful colour. But for one woman +at least the world turned black. Only the thought of the +children nerved her to go on.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> + +<h3>The Power behind the Work</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"To Him difficulties are as nothing, and improbabilities of less than +no account."—<i>Story of the China Inland Mission.</i></p></div> + + +<div class='cap'>THE Power behind the work is the interposition of God +in answer to prayer.</div> + +<p>Recently—so recently that it would be unwise to +go into detail—we were in trouble about a little girl of ten +or eleven, who, though not a Temple child, was exposed to +imminent danger, and sorely needed deliverance. I happened +to be alone at Dohnavur at the time, and did not know what +to answer to the child's urgent message: "If I can escape +to you" (this meant if she braved capture and its consequences, +and fled across the fields alone at night), "can you +protect me from my people?" To say "Yes" might have had +fatal results. To say "No" seemed too impossible. The +circumstances were such that great care was needed to avoid +being entangled in legal complications; and as the Collector +(Chief Magistrate) for our part of the district happened just +then to be in our neighbourhood, I wrote asking for an +appointment. Early next morning we met by the roadside. +I had been up most of the night, and was tired and anxious; +and I shall never forget the comfort that came through the +quiet sympathy with which one who was quite a stranger to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> +us all listened to the story, not as if it were a mere missionary +trifle, but something worthy his attention. But nothing could +be done. It was not a case where we had any ground for +appeal to the law; and any attempt upon our part to help +the child could only have resulted in more trouble afterwards, +for we should certainly have had to give her up if she came +to us.</p> + +<p>As the inevitableness of this conclusion became more and +more evident to me, it seemed as if a great strong wall were +rising foot by foot between me and that little girl—a wall +like the walls that enclose the Temples here, very high, very +massive. But even Temple walls have doors, and I could not +see any door in this wall. Nothing could bring that child to +us but a Power enthroned above the wall, which could stoop +and lift her over it. I do not remember what led to the +question about what we expected would happen; but I +remember that with that wall full in view I could only +answer, "The interposition of God." Nothing else, nothing +less, could do anything for that child.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Voices Blown on the Winds</div> + +<p>Her case was complicated, if I may express it so, by the +fact that though she knew very little—she had only had a +few weeks' teaching and could not read—she had believed +all we told her most simply and literally, and witnessed to +her own people, whose reply to her had been: "You will see +who is stronger, your God or ours! Do you think your Lord +Jesus can deliver you from our hand, or prevent us from doing +as we choose with you? We shall see!" And the case of an +older girl who had been, as those who knew her best believed, +drugged and then bent to her people's will, was quoted: "Did +your Lord Jesus deliver her? Where is she to-day? And you +think He will deliver you!" "But He will not let you hurt +me," the child had answered fearlessly, though her strength +was weakened even then by thirty hours without food; and, +remembering one of the Bible stories she had heard during<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> +those weeks, she added, "I am Daniel, and you are the lions"—and +she told them how the angel was sent to shut the lions' +mouths. But she knew so little after all, and the bravest can +be overborne, and she was only a little girl; so our hearts +ached for her as we sent her the message: "You must not try +to come to us. We cannot protect you. But Jesus is with +you. He will not fail you. He says, 'Fear thou not, for I +am with thee.'" That night they shut her up with a demon-possessed +woman, that the terror of it might shake her faith +in Christ. Next day they hinted that worse would happen +soon. Our fear was lest her faith should fail before deliverance +came.</p> + +<p>Three and a half months of such tension as we have rarely +known passed over us. Often during that time, when one +thing after another happened contrariwise, as it appeared, and +each event as it occurred seemed to add another foot to the +wall that still grew higher, help to faith came to us through +unexpected sources like voices blown on the winds.</p> + +<p>Once it was something Lieut. Shackleton is reported to have +said to Reuter's correspondent concerning his expedition to the +South Pole: "Over and over again there were times when no +mortal leadership could have availed us. It was during those +times that we learned that some Power beyond our own +guided our footsteps." And the illustrations which followed +of Divine interposition were such that one at least who +read, took courage; for the God of the great Ice-fields is +the God of the Tropics.</p> + +<p>Once it was a passage opened by chance in a friend's book—Pastor +Agnorum. The subject of the paragraph is the +schoolboy's attitude towards games: "Glimpses of his mind +are sometimes given us, as on that day at Risingham when +you refused to play in your boys' house-match, unless the other +house excluded from their team a half-back who was under +attainder through a recent row. They declined, and you stood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> +out of it. The hush in the field when your orphaned team, in +defiance of the odds, scored and again scored! Their supporters, +in chaste awe at the marvel, could hardly shout: it +was more like a sob: a judgment had so manifestly defended +the right. The cricket professional, a man naturally devout, +looked at me with eyes that confessed an interposition, and all +came away quiet as a crowd from a cemetery. It was not a +game of football we had looked at, it was a Mystery Play: we +had been edified, and we hid it in our hearts."</p> + +<p>And once, on the darkest day of all, it was the brave old +family motto, on a letter which came by post: "Dieu défend +le droit." It was something to be reminded that, in spite of +appearances to the contrary, the kingdom is the Lord's, and +He is Governor among the people.</p> + +<p>"Eyes that confessed an interposition." The phrase was +illuminated for us when God in very truth interposed in such +fashion that every one saw it was His Hand, for no other +hand could have done it. Then we, too, looked at each other +with eyes that confessed an interposition. We had seen that +which we should never forget; and until the time comes when +it may be more fully told to the glory of our God, we have hid +it in our hearts.</p> + +<p>The reason we have outlined the story is to lead to a +word we want to write very earnestly; it is this: Friends +who care for the children, and believe this work on their +behalf is something God intends should be done, "pray as +if on that alone hung the issue of the day." More than we +know depends upon our holding on in prayer.</p> + +<p>All through those months there was prayer for that child +in India and in England. The matter was so urgent that +we made it widely known, and some at least of those who +heard gave themselves up to prayer; not to the mere easy +prayer which costs little and does less, but to that waiting +upon God which does not rest till it knows it has obtained<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> +access, knows that it has the petition that it desires of Him. +This sort of prayer costs.</p> +<div class="sidenote">"I Should utterly have fainted but—"</div> + +<p>But to us down in the thick of the battle, it was strength +to think of that prayer. We were very weary with hope +deferred; for it was as if all the human hope in us were +torn out of us, and tossed and buffeted every way till there +was nothing left of it but an aching place where it had +been. God works by means, as we all admit; and so every +fresh development in a Court case in which the child was +involved, every turn of affairs, where her relatives were +concerned (and these turns were frequent), every little +movement which seemed to promise something, was eagerly +watched in the expectation that in it lay the interposition +for which we waited. But it seemed as if our hopes were +raised only to be dashed lower than ever, till we were cast +upon the bare word of our God. It was given to us then +as perhaps never before to penetrate to the innermost +spring of consolation contained in those very old words: "I +should utterly have fainted, but that I believe verily to see +the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Oh, +tarry thou the Lord's leisure: be strong, and He shall comfort +thine heart; and put thou thy trust in the Lord."</p> + +<p>This Divine Interposition has been very inspiring. We +feel afresh the force of the question: "Is anything too +hard for the Lord?" And we ask those whose hearts are +with us to pray for more such manifestations of the Power +that has not passed with the ages. Lord, teach us to pray!</p> + +<p>For it has never been with us, "Come, see, and conquer," +as if victory were an easy thing and a common. We have +known what it is to toil for the salvation of some little life, +and we have known the bitterness of defeat. We have had +to stand on the shore of a dark and boundless sea, and +watch that little white life swept off as by a great black +wave. We have watched it drift further and further out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> +on those desolate waters, till suddenly something from +underneath caught it and sucked it down. And our very +soul has gone out in the cry, "Would God I had died for +thee!" and we too have gone "to the chamber over the +gate" where we could be alone with our grief and our +God—O little child, loved and lost, would God I had died +for thee!</p> + +<p>Should we forget these things? Should we bury them +away lest they hurt some sensitive soul? Rather, could we +forget them if we would, and dare we hide away the knowledge +lest somewhere someone should be hurt? For it is +not as if that black wave's work were a thing of the past: +it has gone on for centuries unchecked: it is going on +to-day.</p> + +<p>Several months have passed since the chapters which +precede this were written. We are now, with some of our +converts who needed rest and change, in a place under the +mountains a day's journey from Dohnavur. It is one of +the holy places of the South; for the northern tributary of +the chief river of this district falls over the cliffs at this +point in a double leap of one hundred and eighty feet, and +the waters are so disposed over a great rounded shoulder +of rock that many people can bathe below in a long single +file. To this fall thousands of pilgrims come from all parts +of India, believing that such bathing is meritorious and +cleanses away all sin. And as they are far from <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'own their'">their own</ins> +homes, and in measure out on holiday, we find them more +than usually accessible and friendly. This morning I was +on my way home after talk with the women, and was turning +for a moment to look back upon the beautiful sorrowful +scene—the flashing waterfall, the passing crowd of pilgrims, +the radiance of sunshine on water, wood, and rock, when a +Brahman, fresh from bathing, followed my look, and glancing +at the New Testament and bag of Gospels in my hand,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> +smiled indulgently and asked if we seriously thought these +books and their teaching would ever materially influence +India. "Look at that crowd," and he pointed to the people, +his own caste people chiefly. "Have we been influenced?"</p> +<div class="sidenote">Deep Calleth unto Deep</div> + +<p>Then he told me the story of the Falls, how ages ago a +god, pitying the sins and the sufferings of the people, bathed +on the ledge where the waters leap, and thereafter those +waters were efficacious to the cleansing of sin from the one +who believingly bathes. To the one who believes not, nothing +happens beyond the cleansing of his body and its invigoration. +"Even to you," he added, in his friendliness, "virtue of a sort +is allowed; for do you not experience a certain exhilaration +and a buoyancy of spirit and a pleasure beyond anything +obtainable elsewhere [which is perfectly true]? This is due +to the benevolence of our god, whose merits extend even +to you."</p> + +<p>He was an educated man; he had studied in a mission +school, and afterwards in a Government college. He had read +English books, and parts of our Bible were familiar to him. +He assured me he found no more difficulty in accepting this +legend than we did in accepting the story of our Saviour's +incarnation. And then, standing in the Temple porch with its +carved stone pillars, almost within touch of the great door +that opens behind into the shrine, he led the way into the +Higher Hinduism—that mysterious land which lies all around +us in India, but is so seldom shown to us. And I listened till +in turn he was persuaded to listen, and we read together from +the Gospel which transcends in its simplicity the profoundest +reach of Hindu thought: "In the beginning was the Word, +and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." We did +not pause till we came to the end of the paragraph. I could +see how it appealed, for deep calleth unto deep; but he rose +again up and up, and that unknown part of one's being which +is more akin to the East than to the West, followed him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> +and understood—when the door behind us creaked, and a +sudden blast of turbulent music sprang out upon us, deafening +us for a moment, and he said, "It is the morning worship. +The priests and the Servants of the gods are worshipping +within." It was like a fall from far-away heights to the very +floor of things.</p> + +<p>Then he told me how in the town three miles distant, the +Benares of the South, the service of the gods was conducted +with more elaborate ceremonial. "I could arrange for you to +see it if you wished." I explained why I could not wish to see +it, and asked him about the Servants of the gods, and about +the little children. "Certainly there are little children. The +Servants of the gods adopt them to continue the succession. +How else could it be continued?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> + +<h3>If this were All</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>AN hour earlier three of us had stood together by +the pool at the foot of the Falls, and watched the +people bathe. At the edge of the rock an old grandmother +had dealt valiantly with an indignant baby of two, +whom, despite its struggles, she bathed after prolonged +preparation of divers anointings, by holding it grimly, +kicking and slippery though it was, under what must have +seemed to it a terrible hurrying horror. When at last that +baby emerged, it was too crushed in spirit to cry.</div> + +<p>Beyond this little domestic scene was a group of half-reluctant +women, longing and yet fearing to venture under +the plunging waters; and beyond them again were the +bathers, crowding but never jostling each other, on the +narrow ledge upon and over which the Falls descend. Some +were standing upright, with bowed heads, under the strong +chastisement of the nearer heavier fall; some bent under it, +as if overwhelmed with the thundering thud of its waters. +Some were further on, where the white furies lash like living +whips, and scourge and sting and scurry; and there the +pilgrims were hardly visible, for the waters swept over them +like a veil, and they looked in their weirdness and muteness +like martyr ghosts. Further still some were carefully<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> +climbing the steps cut into the cliff, or standing as high as +they could go upon an unguarded projection of rock, with +eyes shut and folded hands, entirely oblivious apparently to +the fact that showers of spray enveloped them, and the +deep pool lay below.</p> + +<p>I had never seen anything quite like this: it was such a +strange commingling of the beautiful and sorrowful. The +women—"fair"-skinned Brahman women they chanced to +be—were in their usual graceful raiment of silk or cotton, +all shades of soft reds, crimson, purple, blue, lightened with +yellow and orange, which in the water looked like dull fire. +Their golden and silver jewels gleamed in the sunlight, and +their long black hair hung round faces like the faces one +sees in pictures. The men wore their ordinary white, and +the ascetics the salmon-tinted saffron of their profession.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Under the Waterfall</div> + +<p>Then, as if to add an ethereal touch to it all, a rainbow +spanned the Falls at that moment, and we saw the pilgrims +through it or arched by it as they stood, some at either end +of the bow where the colours painted the rock and the spray, +and some in the space between. The sun struck the forest +hanging on the steeps above, and it became a vivid thing in +quick delight of greenness. It was something which, once +seen, could hardly be forgotten. The triumphant stream of +white set deep in the heart of a great horseshoe of rock +and woods; the delicate, exquisite pleasure of colour; and the +people in their un-self-consciousness, bathing and worshipping +just as they wished, with for background rock and spray, and +for a halo rainbow. To one who looked with sympathy the +picture was a parable. You could not but see visions: you +could not but dream dreams.</p> + +<p>Then from the quiet heights crept a colony of monkeys, +their chatter drowned in the roar of the Falls. On they +came, wise and quaint, like the half-heard whispers of old-time +jokes. And they bathed in the mimic pools above, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> +it seemed in imitation of the pilgrims, holding comical little +heads under the light trickles.</p> + +<p>And below the scene changed as a company of widows +came and entered the Falls. They were all Brahmans and +all old, and they shivered in their poor scanty garments of +coarse white. Most of them were frail with long fasting and +penance, and they prayed as they stood in the water or +crouched under its weight. Such a one had sat on the stone +under the special fall which, as the friend who had taken me +observed with more forcefulness than sentiment, "comes down +like a sack of potatoes." I had tried to stand it for a minute, +but it pelted and pounded me so that less than a minute was +enough, and I moved to make room for a Brahman widow +who was bathing with me. And then she sat down on the +stone, and the waters beat very heavily on the old grey head; +but she sat on in her patience, her hands covering her face, +and she prayed without one moment's intermission. How +little she knew of the other prayer that rose beside hers +through the rushing water—it was the first time I at least +had ever prayed in a waterfall—"Oh, send forth Thy light +and Thy truth; let them lead her!" She struggled up at +last and caught my hand; then, steadying herself with an +effort, she felt for the iron rod that protects the ledge, and +blinded by the driving spray and benumbed by the beat of +the water, she stumbled slowly out. But the wistful face +had a look of content upon it, and her only concern was to +finish the ceremonial out in the sunshine—she had brought +her little offerings of a few flowers with her—and so, much +as I longed to follow her and tell her of the cleansing of which +this was only a type, it could not have been then. Oh, the +rest it is at such a time to remember that the Lord is good +to all, and His tender mercies are over all His works.</p> + +<p>Below the pool, in the broad bed of the stream and on +its banks, all was animation and happy simple life. Here<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> +the women were drying their garments, without taking them +off, in a clever fashion of their own. There some were washing +them in the stream. Children played about as they willed. +But in and among the throng, anywhere, everywhere, we +saw worshippers, standing or sitting facing the east, alone +or in company, chanting names for the deity, or adoring +and meditating in silence. Doubtless some were formal +enough, but some were certainly sincere; and we felt if +this were all there is to know in Hinduism, the time must +soon come when a people so prepared would recognise in +the Saviour and Lover of their souls, Him for whom they +had been seeking so long, "if haply they might feel after +Him and find Him."</p> + +<p>But this is not all there is to know. Back out of sight +behind the simple joyousness of life, to which the wholesome +waters and the sparkling air and the beauty everywhere so +graciously ministered, behind that wonderful wealth of +thought as revealed in the Higher Hinduism which is born +surely of nothing less than a longing after God—behind all +this what do we find? Glory of mountain and waterfall, +charm and delight of rainbow in spray; but what lies behind +the coloured veil? What symbols are carved into the cliff? +Whose name and power do they represent?</p> + +<p>This book touches one of the hidden things; would that +we could forget it! Sometimes, through these days as we +sat on the rocks by the waterside, in the unobtrusive fashion +of the Indian religious teacher, who makes no noise but waits +for those who care to come, we have almost forgotten in +the happiness of human touch with the people, the lovable +women and children more especially, that anything dark and +wicked and sad lay so very near. And then, suddenly as we +have told, we have been reminded of it. We may not forgot +it if we would. It is true that the thing we mean is disowned +by the spiritual few, but to the multitude it is part of their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> +religion. "Of course, Temple women must adopt young children; +and they must be carefully trained, or they will not +be meet for the service of the gods." So said the Brahman +who only a moment before had led me into the mystic land, +deep within which he loves to dwell: what does the training +mean?</p> +<div class="sidenote">To-morrow, How will it Be?</div> + +<p>A fortnight ago the friend to whom the child is dear took +me to see the little girl described in a letter from an Indian +sister as "a little dove in a cage." I did not find that she +minded her cage. The bars have been gilded, the golden +glitter has dazzled the child. She thinks her cage a pretty +place, and she does not beat against its bars as she did in +the earlier days of her captivity. As we talked with her +we understood the change. When first she was taken from +school the woman to whose training her mother has committed +her gave her polluting poetry to read and learn, and +she shrank from it, and would slip her Bible over the open +page and read it instead. But gradually the poetry seemed +less impossible; the atmosphere in which those vile stories +grew and flourished was all about her; as she breathed it +day by day she became accustomed to it; the sense of being +stifled passed. The process of mental acclimatisation is not +yet completed, the lovely little face is still pure and strangely +innocent in its expression; but there is a change, and it +breaks the heart of the friend who loves her to see it. +"I must learn my poetry. They will be angry if I do not +learn it. What can I do?" And again, "Oh, the stories +do not mean anything," said with a downward glance, +as if the child-conscience still protested. But this was +a fortnight ago. It is worse with that little girl to-day; +there is less inward revolt; and to-morrow how will it +be with her?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> + +<h3>"To Continue the Succession"</h3> + + +<div class='cap'>FOR to-morrow holds no hope for these children so far +as our power to save them to-day is concerned. It +will be remembered that we felt we could do more +for them by working quietly on our own lines than by +appealing to the law; but lately, fearing lest we were +possibly doing the law an injustice by taking it for granted +that it was powerless to help us, we carefully gathered all the +evidence we could about three typical children: one a child +in moral danger, though not in actual Temple danger; +another the adopted child of a Temple woman; the third +a Temple woman's own child: and we submitted this +evidence to a keen Indian Christian barrister, and asked +for his advice.</div> + +<p>L., the first child he deals with, the little "dove in the +cage," is in charge of a woman of bad character, by the +consent and arrangement of her mother. The mother +speaks English as well as an Englishwoman, and her eldest +son is studying for his degree in a Government college. +Although Temple service is not intended, the proposed life +is such that a similar course of training as that to which +the Temple child is subjected, is now being carried on. This +is the barrister's reply to my letter:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"I have carefully perused the statements of the probable +witnesses. L.'s mother is not a Temple woman, and the +foster-mother also is not a Temple woman. The law of +adoption relating to Temple women does not apply to +them. The foster-mother, therefore, can have no legal claim +to the child. But the mother has absolute control over +the bringing-up of the child, and it would not be possible +in the present state of the law to do anything for the child +now."</p> + +<p>S. This is the little one who whispered her texts to me +in the moonlight, and whose foster-mother told her to tell +me she was being trained for the Service of the gods. She +is evidently destined to be a Temple woman. "The first +question for consideration is how the old woman is related +to her. If she is the adopted mother, or if she could successfully +plead adoption of the child, the Civil Courts will be +powerless to help. If we can get some reliable evidence that +the child has not been adopted" (this is impossible) "we +may be able to induce the British Courts to interfere on +her behalf and say she shall not be devoted to Temple +service until she attains her majority; but it would not be +possible to induce the Courts to hand the child over to the +Mission."</p> + +<p>K., the little girl whose own mother is a Temple woman. +She has been taught dancing, which to our mind was conclusive +proof of her mother's intentions. To make sure we +asked the question, to which the following is the reply: "No +children of [good] Hindu parents are taught dancing. Even +the lowest caste woman thinks it beneath her dignity to +dance, excepting professional devil-dancers, who are generally +old women, mostly widows, of an hysterical temperament. +When young children of women of doubtful character are +taught dancing, it means they are going to be married to +the idol. When children of Temple women are taught<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> +dancing the presumption is all the greater. But the difficulty +in the case of K. is to get one who has higher claims to +guardianship than the mother. In the case of a Temple +woman's child there is no one.</p> + +<p>"It is this which makes it impossible for the well-wishers +of the children to interfere. . . . The law punishes only +the offence committed and not the intent to commit, or even +the preparation, unless it amounts to an attempt under the +Penal Code."</p> + +<div class='center'><b>. . . . .</b></div> +<div class="sidenote">"We have no Right to Interfere"</div> + +<p>Bluebeards are not an institution in England; but if they +were, and if one of the order were known to possess a cupboardful +of pendent heads, would Englishmen sit quiet while +he whetted his butcher's knife quite calmly on his doorstep? +Would they say as he sat there in untroubled assurance of +safety, feeling the edge of the blade with his thumb, +and muttering almost audibly the name of his intended +victim, "We have no right to interfere, he is only sharpening +his knife; an intent to commit, or even the preparation +for crime, is not punishable by law, unless it amounts to an +attempt, and he has not 'attempted' yet." Surely, if such +intent were not punishable it very soon would be. It would +be found possible—who can doubt it?—to frame a new law, +or amend the old one, so as to deal with Bluebeards. And +a Committee of Vigilance would be appointed to ensure its +effectual working.</p> + +<p>Of course, the simile is absurdly inadequate, and breaks +down at several important points, and the circumstances +are vastly more difficult in India than they ever could be +in England, just because India is India; but will it not at +least be admitted that the law meant in kindness to the +innocent is fatal to our purpose?—which is to save the children +while they are still innocent.</p> +<div class='center'><b>. . . . .</b></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span></p> + +<p>We do not want to ask for anything unreasonable, but +it seems to us that the law concerning adoption requires +revision. In Mayne's <i>Hindu Law and Usage</i> it is stated +that among Temple women it is customary in Madras and +Pondicherry and in Western India to adopt girls to follow +their adopted mother's profession: and the girls so adopted +succeed to their property; no particular ceremonies are +necessary, recognition alone being sufficient. In Calcutta +and Bombay such adoptions have been held illegal, but in +the Madras Presidency they are held to be legal. In a case +where the validity of such adoption was questioned, the +Madras High Court affirmed it, and it has now, "by a series +of decisions, adopted the rule ;. . . which limits the illegality +of adoption to cases where they involve the commission of +an offence under the Criminal Code." This, as we have said, +makes it entirely impossible to save the child through the +law before her training is complete; and after it is complete +it is too late to save her. Train a child from infancy to +look upon a certain line of life as the one and only line for +her, make the prospect attractive, and surround her with +every possible unholy influence; in short, bend the twig and +keep it bent for the greater part of sixteen years, or even +only six—is there much room for doubt as to how it will +grow? An heir to the property may be required; but with +the facts of life before us, can we be content to allow the +adoption of a child by a Temple woman to be so legalised +that even if it can be proved to a moral certainty that +her intention is to "continue the succession," nothing can +be done?</p> +<div class="sidenote">What we Want</div> + +<p>Then as to the guardianship: again we do not want to +ask too much, but surely if it can be shown that no one +else has moved to save the child (which argues that no one +else has cared much about her salvation) we should not be +disqualified for guardianship on the sole ground that we are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span> +not related? In such a case the relatives are the last people +with whom she would be safe. An order may go forth +from that nebulous and distant Impersonality, the British +Government, to the effect that a certain child is not to +be dedicated to gods during her minority. But far away +in their villages the people smile at a simplicity which can +imagine that commands can eventually affect purposes. They +may delay the fulfilment of such purpose; but India can +afford to wait.</p> + +<p><i>We would have the law so amended, that whoever has +been in earnest enough about the matter to try to save the +child from destruction, should be given the right to protect +her, if in spite of the odds against him he has honestly +fought through a case and won.</i></p> + +<p>"Is it not a sad thing," writes the Indian barrister—we +quote his words because they seem to us worthy of notice +at home—"that a Christian Government is unable to legislate +to save the children of Temple women? I am sorry my +opinion has made you sad. Giving my opinion as a lawyer, +I could not take an optimistic view of the matter. <i>The law +as it stands at present is against reform in matters of this +kind.</i> Even should a good judge take a strong view of the +matter, the High Court will stick to the very letter of +the law."</p> + +<p>So that, as things are, it comes to this: We must stand +aside and watch the cup of poison being prepared—so openly +prepared that everyone knows for which child it is being +mixed. We must stand and wait and do nothing. We must +see the little girl led up to the cup and persuaded to taste +it. We must watch her gradually growing to like it, for +it is flavoured and sweet. We must not beckon to her before +she has drunk of it and say, "Come to us and we will tell +you what is in that cup, and keep you safely from those +who would make you drink it"; for "any attempt to induce<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> +the child to come to you, or any assistance given to help +her to escape to you, would render you liable to prosecution +for kidnapping—a criminal offence under the Penal Code." +Any one of us would gladly go to prison if it would save +the child; but the trouble is, it would not: for the law +could only return her to her lawful guardians from whose +hold we unlawfully detached her. We, not they, would be +in the wrong; they did nothing unlawful in only preparing +the cup. Does someone say that we put the case unfairly—that +the law does not forbid us to warn the child, it only +forbids us to snatch her away when the cup is merely being +offered her? But remember, in our part of India at least, +these cups are not given in public. The preparation is public +enough, the bare tasting is public too; but the cup in its +fulness is given in private, and once given, the poison works +with stealthy but startling rapidity. Warn the child before +she has drunk of it, and she does not understand you. +Warn her after she has drunk, and the poison holds her +from heeding.</p> + +<p>Besides, to be very practical, what is the use of warning +if we may only warn? Suppose our one isolated word weighs +with the child against the word of mother or adopted mother, +and all who stand for home to her; suppose she says (she +would very rarely have the courage for any such proposal, +but suppose she does say it): "May I come to you? and will +you show me the way, for it is such a long way and I do not +know how to find it? I should be so frightened, alone in the +night" (the only time escape would be possible), "for I know +they would run after me, and they can run faster than I!" +What may we say to her? What may I say to the Harebell +supposing she asks me this question? She is only six, and +there are six long miles over broken country between her +home and ours. We could not find it ourselves in the dark. +But supposing she dared it all, and an angel were sent to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span> +guide her, have we any right to protect her? None whatever. +If there are parents, or a parent, they or she have the right +of parentage; if an adopted mother, the right of adoption.<a name="FNanchor_F_6" id="FNanchor_F_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_F_6" class="fnanchor">[F]</a></p> + +<p>We know that the law is framed to protect the good, +and the rights of parentage cannot be too carefully guarded; +but to one who has not a legal mind, but only sees a little +girl in danger of her life, and has to stand with hands tied +by a law intended to deal with totally different matters, it +seems strange that things should be so. This is not the +moment (if ever there is such a moment) to choose, for deliberate +lawlessness; but there are times when the temptation +is strong to break the law in the hope that, once broken, it +may be amended. Only those who have had to go through +it know what it is to stand and see that cup of poison being +prepared for an unsuspicious child.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Then unto Thee we Turn</div> + +<p>The last sentence in the barrister's letter begins with "I +despair." The sentence is too pungent in its outspoken +candour to copy into a book which may come back to India: +"I despair": then unto Thee we turn, O Lord our God; for +now, Lord, what is our hope? truly our hope is even in Thee: +oh, help us against the enemy; for vain is the help of man. +Hath God forgotten to be gracious? Will the Lord absent +Himself for ever? O God, wherefore art Thou absent from +us for so long? Look upon the Covenant, for all the earth +is full of darkness and cruel habitations. Surely Thou hast +seen it, for Thou beholdest ungodliness and wrong. The +wicked boasteth of his heart's desire. He sitteth in the +lurking-places of the villages: in the secret places doth he +murder the innocent. He saith in his heart, "God hath +forgotten: He hideth His face; He will never see it." Arise,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span> +O Lord God, lift up Thine hand! Up, Lord, disappoint him, +and cast him down; deliver the children! Show Thy marvellous +lovingkindness, Thou that art the Saviour of them +which put their trust in Thee, from such as resist Thy right +hand. Thy voice is mighty in operation: the voice of the +Lord is a glorious voice. We wait for Thy lovingkindness, +O God: be merciful unto the children: O God, be merciful +unto the children, for our soul trusteth in Thee, and we call +unto the Most High God, even unto the God that shall perform +the cause which we have in hand. For Thou hast looked +down from Thy sanctuary; out of heaven did the Lord behold +the earth, that He might hear the mournings of such as are +in captivity, and deliver the children appointed to death. +Arise, O God, maintain Thine own cause! Our hope is in +Thee, Who helpeth them to right that suffer wrong. The +Lord looseth the prisoners. God is unto us a God of deliverances. +Power belongeth unto Thee. Our soul hangeth upon +Thee: Thou shalt show us wonderful things in Thy righteousness, +O God of our salvation, Thou that art the hope of all +the ends of the earth. And all men that see it shall say, +This hath God done; for they shall perceive that it is His +work. He shall deliver the children's souls from falsehood +and wrong; for God is our King of old; the help that is +done upon earth He doeth it Himself. Sure I am, the Lord +will avenge the poor, and maintain the cause of the helpless. +Why art thou so heavy, O my soul, and why art thou disquieted +within me? Oh, put thy trust in God; for I will +yet praise Him which is the help of my countenance and +my God!</p> + +<p>Are there any prayers like the old psalms in their intense +sincerity? In the times when our heart is wounded within us +we turn to these ancient human cries, and we find what we +want in them.</p> + +<p>Let us pray for the children of this generation being trained<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span> +now "to continue the succession," whom nothing less than a +Divine interposition can save. The hunters on these mountains +dig pits to ensnare the poor wild beasts, and they cover them +warily with leaves and grass: this sentence about the succession +is just such a pit, with words for leaves and grass. Let +us pray for miracles to happen where individual children are +concerned, that the little feet in their ignorance may be +hindered from running across those pits, for the fall is into +miry clay, and the sides of the pit are slippery and very +steep.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Let us Pray</div> + +<p>More and more as we go on, and learn our utter inability +to move a single pebble by ourselves, and the mighty power +of God to upturn mountains with a touch, we realise how +infinitely important it is to know how to pray. There is the +restful prayer of committal to which the immediate answer +is peace. We could not live without this sort of prayer; we +should be crushed and overborne, and give up broken-hearted +if it were not for that peace. But the Apostle speaks of +another prayer that is wrestle, conflict, "agony." And if +these little children are to be delivered and protected after +their deliverance, and trained that if the Lord tarry and +life's fierce battle has to be fought—and for them it may be +very fierce—all that will be attempted against them shall +fall harmless at their feet like arrows turned to feather-down; +then some of us must be strong to meet the powers +that will combat every inch of the field with us, and some +of us must learn deeper things than we know yet about the +solemn secret of prevailing prayer.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_F_6" id="Footnote_F_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_F_6"><span class="label">[F]</span></a> To-day (February 16, 1912) as I go through proofs of the second edition, +I hear by post of a young girl in a distant city who lately escaped to a missionary, +and asked for what he could not give her—protection. She had to return to her +own home. In her despair, she drowned herself.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXV</h2> + +<h3>What if she misses her Chance?</h3> + +<div class='poem'> +"Who would be planted chooseth not the soil<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Or here or there, ;. . .</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Lord even so</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">I ask one prayer,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">The which if it be granted</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">It skills not where</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Thou plantest me, only I would be planted."</span><br /> + + +<div class='sig'> +<span class="smcap">T. E. Brown.</span><br /><br /> +</div></div> + + +<div class='cap'>TWO pictures of two evenings rise as I write. One is of +an English fireside in a country house. The lamps have +been lighted, and the curtains drawn. The air is full +of the undefined scent of chrysanthemums, and the stronger +sweetness of hyacinths comes from a stand in the window. +Curled up in a roomy arm-chair by the fire sits a girl with a +kitten asleep on her lap. She is reading a missionary book.</div> + +<p>The other this: a white carved cupola in the centre of a +piece of water enclosed by white walls. People are sitting on +the walls and pressing close about them in their thousands. +A gorgeous barge is floating slowly round the shrine. There +is very little moon, but the whole place is alight; sometimes +the water is ablaze with ruby and amber; this fades, and a +weird blue-green shimmers across the barge, and electric +lamps at the corners of the square lend brilliancy to the +scene. The barge is covered with crimson trappings, and +hundreds of wreaths of white oleander hang curtain-wise +round what is within—the god and goddess decked with +jewels and smothered in flowers. Round and round the +barge is poled, and in the coloured light all that is gaudy and +tawdry is toned, and becomes only oriental and impressive; +and the white shrine in the centre reflected in the calm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span> +coloured water appears in its alternating dimness, and shining +more like a fairy creation than common handiwork.</p> + +<p>We who were at the festival, three of us laden with +packets of marked Gospels, met sometimes as we wandered +about unobserved, losing ourselves in the crowd, that we +might the more quietly continue that for which we were +there; and in one such chance meeting we spoke of the +English girl by the fireside, and longed to show her what we +saw; and to show it with such earnestness that she would be +drawn to inquire where her Master had most need of her. +But no earnestness of writing can do much after all. It is +true the eye affects the heart, and we would show what we +have seen in the hope that even the second-hand sight might +do something; but words are clumsy, and cannot discover to +another that poignant thing the eye has power to transmit to +the heart. And it is well that it is so, for something stronger +and more consuming than human emotion can ever be must +operate upon the heart if the life is to be moved to purpose. +"A moving story" is worth little if it only moves the feelings. +How far out of its selfish track does it move the life into +ways of sacrifice? That is the question that matters. What +if it cost? Did not Calvary cost? Away with the cold, +calculating love that talks to itself about cost! God give +us a pure passion of love that knows nothing of hesitation +and grudging, and measuring, nothing of compromise! What +if it seem impossible to face all that surrender may mean? +Is there not provision for the impossible? "In the Old Testament +we find that in almost every case of people being +clothed with the Spirit it was for things which were impossible +to them. To be filled with the Spirit means readiness for +Him to take us out of our present sphere and put us anywhere +away from our own choice into His choice for us." These +words hold a message alike for us as we meet and pass in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span> +that Indian crowd, and for the girl by the fireside at home +who wants to know her Lord's will that she may do it, +and whose heart's prayer is: "May Thy grace, O Lord, make +that possible to me which is impossible by nature."</p> +<div class="sidenote">"All the Way"</div> + +<p>Let us have done with limitations, let us be simply +sincere. How ashamed we shall be by and by of our +insincerities:—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +Thy vows are on me, oh to serve Thee truly,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pants, pants my soul to perfectly obey!</span><br /> +Burn, burn, O Fire, O Wind, now winnow throughly!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Constrain, inspire to follow all the way!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Oh that in me</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Thou, my Lord, may see</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Of the travail of Thy soul,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And be satisfied.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>We had only a few hours to spend in the town of the +Floating Festival; and being anxious to discover how things +were among the Temple community, I spent the first hour +in their quarter, a block of substantial buildings each in its +own compound, near the Temple. I saw the house from +which two of our dearest children came, delivered by a +miracle; it looked like a fortress with its wall all round, and +upstairs balcony barred by a trellis. The street door was +locked as the women were at the Festival. In another of +less dignified appearance I saw a pretty woman of about +twenty, dressed in pale blue and gold, evidently just ready +to go out. One of those abandoned beings whose function +it is to secure little children "to continue the succession" +was in the house, and so nothing could be attempted but +the most casual conversation. All the other houses in the +block were locked as the women were out; but I saw a +new house outside, built in best Indian style, and finely +finished. It had been built for, and given as a free gift, to +a noted Temple woman.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span></p> + +<p>These houses would open, in the missionary sense of the +word, but not in an afternoon. It would take time and +careful endeavour to win an entrance. Such a worker would +need to be one whom no disappointment could discourage, +a woman to whom the word had been spoken, "Go, love, ;. . . +according to the love of the Lord." When will such a worker +come?</p> + +<p>As I left the Temple quarter, I met my two companions +who had been at work elsewhere, and we walked together +to the place of festival. Tripping gaily along in front was +a little maid with flowers in her hair. It was easy to +know who she was, there was something in the very step +that marked the light-footed Temple child. Poor little all-unconscious +illustration of India's need of God!</p> + +<p>Later on we saw the same illustration again, lighted up +like a great transparency, the focus for a thousand eyes. +For on the daïs of the barge, in the place of honour +nearest the idols, stood three women and a child. The +women were swathed in fold upon fold of rich violet silk, +sprinkled all over with tinsel and gold; they were crowned +with white flowers, wreathed round a golden ornament like +a full moon set in their dark hair; and the effect of the +whole, seen in the luminous flush of colour thrown upon +them from the shore, was as if the night sky sparkling +with stars had come down and robed them where they +stood. Then when it paled, and sheet-lightning played, as +it seemed, across water and barge and shrine, the effect was +wholly mysterious. The three swaying forms—for they +swayed keeping time to the music that never ceased—resembled +one's idea of goddesses rather than familiar +womenkind. To the Indian mind it was beautiful, bewilderingly +beautiful; and the simple country-folk around drew +deep breaths of admiration as they passed.</p> + +<p>The little girl looked more human. She too was in violet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> +silk and spangles and gold, and her little head was wreathed +with flowers. It may have been her first Floating Festival, +for she gazed about her with eyes full of guileless wonder, +and the woman beside whom she stood laid a light, protecting +hand upon her shoulder.</p> +<div class="sidenote">That Little Child!</div> + +<p>That little child! How the sight of her held us in pity as +the barge sailed slowly round. She was so near to us at times +that we could almost have touched her when the barge came +near the wall; and yet she was utterly remote, miles of space +might have lain between; it was as if we and she belonged to +different planets. And yet our little ones who might have +been as she, were so close—we could almost feel their loving +little arms round our necks at that moment—this child, how +far away she was! Had one of us set foot on the place where +she stood, the friendly thousands about us would have changed +in a second into indignant furies, and so long as the memory +of such impiety remained no white face would have been +welcome at the Floating Festival.</p> + +<p>We stood by the wall awhile and watched; the sorrow of it +all sank into us. There in the holiest place of all, according to +their thinking, close to the emblems of deity, they had set +this grievous perversion of the holy and the pure. Right on +the topmost pinnacle of everything known as religious there +they had enthroned it, and robed it in starlight and crowned +it as queens are crowned. "Oh, worship the Lord in the +beauty of holiness!" "One thing have I desired of the +Lord ;. . . to behold the fair beauty of the Lord"—such +words open chasms of contrast. God pity them; like those +of old, they know not what they do.</p> + +<p>We came away, our books all sold and our strength of +voice spent out, for everywhere people had listened; and as +we came home, strong thanksgiving filled our hearts, thanks +and praise unspeakable for the little lives safe in our nursery, +for the two especially who but for God's interposition might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span> +have been on that barge—and oh, from the ground of our +heart we were grateful that He had not let us miss His will +concerning these little children. We thought of those special +two with their dear little innocent ways. We could not think +of them on the barge. We could not bear to think of it—again +and again we thanked God, with humble adoring thanksgiving, +that He kept us from missing our chance.</p> + +<p>But the mere thinking of that intolerable thought brought +us back upon another thought. What of that girl by the fireside? +What if she misses her chance? We know, for letters +confess it, that many a life has missed its chance. What of +the woman, strong and keen, with pent-up energies waiting for +she knows not what? What of the girl by the fireside crushing +down the sense of an Under-call that will not let her rest? +The work to which that Call would lead her will not be anything +great: it will only mean little humble everyday doings +wherever she is sent. But if the Call is a true Call from heaven, +it will change to a song as she obeys; and through all the +afterward of life, through all the loneliness that may come, +through all the disillusions when her "dreams of fair romance +which no day brings" slip away from her—and the usual and +commonplace are all about her—then and for ever that song of +the Lord will sing itself through the quiet places of her soul, +and she will be sure—with the sureness that is just pure +peace—that she is where her Master meant her to be.</p> +<div class="sidenote">"This I wish to do, this I Desire"</div> + +<p>Not that we would write as if obedience must always mean +service in the foreign field. We know it is not so: we know it +may be quite the opposite; but shall we not be forgiven if we +sometimes wonder how it is that with so much earnest Church +life at home, with so many evangelistic campaigns, and conventions, +there is so poor an output so far as these lands +abroad are concerned? Can it be that so many are meant to +stay at home? We would never urge any individual friend to +come, far less would we plead for numbers, however great the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span> +need; we would only say this: Will the girl by the fireside, if +such a one reads this book, lay the book aside, and spend an +hour alone with her Lord? Will she, if she is in doubt about +His will, wait upon Him to show it to her? Will she ask Him +to fit her to obey? "And this I wish to do, this I desire; whatsoever +is wanting in me, do Thou, I beseech Thee, vouchsafe +to supply."</p> + +<p>Forgive if we seem to intrude upon holy ground, but sometimes +we see in imagination some great gathering of God's +people, and we hear them singing hymns; and sometimes the +beautiful words change into others not beautiful, but only +insistent:—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +The Lord our God arouse us! We are sleeping,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dreaming we wake, while through the heavy night</span><br /> +Hardly perceived, the foe moves on unchallenged,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Glad of the dream that doth delay the fight.</span><br /> +O Christ our Captain, lead us out to battle!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shame on the sloth of soldiers of the light!</span><br /> +</div><div class='center'> +<b>. . . . .</b> +</div><div class='poem'> +Good Shepherd, Jesus, pitiful and tender,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To whom the least of straying lambs is known,</span><br /> +Grant us Thy love that wearieth not, nor faileth;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Grant us to seek Thy wayward sheep that roam</span><br /> +Far on the fell, until we find and fold them<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Safe in the love of Thee, their own true home.</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2> + +<h3>"Thy Sweet Original Joy"</h3> + +<div class='poem'> +Beacons of hope, ye appear!<br /> +Languor is not in your heart,<br /> +Weakness is not in your word,<br /> +Weariness not on your brow.<br /><br /> +</div> + + +<div class='cap'>WITHIN the last few months a friend, a lover of books, +sent me <i>The Trial and Death of Socrates</i>, translated +into English by F. J. Church. Opening it for +the first time, I came upon this passage:—</div> + +<p><i>Socrates:</i> "Does a man who is in training, and who is in +earnest about it, attend to the praise and blame of all men, +or of the one man who is doctor or trainer?"</p> + +<p><i>Crito:</i> "He attends only to the opinion of the one man."</p> + +<p><i>Socrates:</i> "Then he ought to fear the blame and welcome +the praise of the one man, not the many?"</p> + +<p><i>Crito:</i> "Clearly."</p> + +<p>And Socrates sums the argument thus: "To be brief; is +it not the same in everything?"</p> + +<p>Surely the wise man spoke the truth: it is the same in +everything. The one thing that matters is the opinion of +the One. If He is satisfied, all is well. If He is dissatisfied, +the commendation of the many is as froth. "Blessed are the +single-hearted, for they shall have much peace."</p> + +<p>But Nature is full of pictures of bright companionship in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span> +service; the very stars shine in constellations. This book of +the skies has been opening up to us of late. Who, to whom +the experience is new, will forget the first evenings spent with +even a small telescope, but powerful enough to distinguish +double stars and unveil nebulæ? You look and see a single +point of light, and you look again and twin suns float like +globes of fire on a midnight sea; and sometimes one flashes +golden yellow and the other blue, each the complement of the +other, like two perfectly responsive friends. You look and see +a little lonely cloud, a breath of transparent mist; you look +and see spaces sprinkled with diamond dust, or something even +more awesome, reaches of radiance that seem to lie on the +borderland of Eternity.</p> + +<p>And the shining glory lingers and lights up the common +day, for the story of the sky is the story of life.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +Far was the Call, and farther as I followed<br /> +Grew there a silence round my Lord and me—<br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>is for ever the inner story, as for ever the stars must move +alone, however close they are set in constellations or strewn +in clusters; but in another sense is it not true that there is the +joy of companionship and the pure inspiration of comradeship? +God fits twin souls together like twin suns; and sometimes, +with delicate thought for even the sensitive pleasure of +colour, it is as if He arranged them so that the gold and the +blue coalesce.</div> + +<p>And we think of the places which were once blank, mere +misty nothings to us. They sparkle now with friends. Some +of them are familiar friends known through the wear and tear +of life; some we shall never see till we meet above the stars. +And there the nebula speaks its word of mystery beyond +mystery, but all illuminated by the light from the other side.</p> +<div class="sidenote">Another Compelling Influence</div> + +<p>In the work of which these chapters have told there has +been the wonderful comfort of sympathy and help from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span> +fellow-missionaries of our own and sister missions; and, as +all who have read, understand, nothing could have been done +without the loyal co-operation of our Indian fellow-workers +whose tenderness and patience can never be described. We +think of the friends in the mission houses along the route of +our long journeyings; we remember how no hour was too +inconvenient to receive us and our tired baby travellers; we +think of those who in weariness and painfulness have sought +for the little children; and we think of those who have made +the work possible by being God's good Ravens to us. We think +of them all, and we wish their names could be written on the +cover of this book instead of the name least worthy to be +there. And now latest and nearest comfort and blessing, +there are the two new "Sitties," whose first day with us made +them one of us. What shall I render unto the Lord for all +His benefits towards me?</p> + +<p>The future is full of problems. Even now in these Nursery +days questions are asked that are more easily asked than +answered. We should be afraid if we looked too far ahead, +so we do not look. We spend our strength on the day's work, +the nearest "next thing" to our hands. But we would be +blind and heedless if we made no provision for the future. +We want to gather and lay up in store against that difficult +time (should it ever come) a band of friends for the children, +who will stand by them in prayer.</p> + +<p>There has been another compelling influence. We recognise +something in the Temple-children question which touches +a wider issue than the personal or missionary. Those who +have read <i>Queen Victoria's Letters</i> must have become conscious +of a certain enlargement. Questions become great or +dwindle into nothingness according as they affect the honour +and the good of the Empire. We find ourselves instinctively +"thinking Imperially," regarding things from the Throne +side—from above instead of from below.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span></p> +<div class="sidenote"><i>But</i></div> + +<p>We fear exaggerated language. We would not exaggerate +the importance of these little children or their cause. We +have said that we realise, as we did not when first this +work began, how very delicate and difficult a matter it +would be for Government to take any really effective action, +and less than effective action is useless. We recognise the +value of our pledge of neutrality in religious matters, and +we know what might happen if Government moved in a +line which to India might appear to be contrary to the +spirit of that pledge. It would be far better if India +herself led the way and declared, as England declared when +she passed the Industrial Schools Amendment Act of 1880, that +she will not have her little children demoralised in either +Temple houses recognised as such, or in any similar houses, +such as those which abound in areas where the Temple child +nominally is non-existent. But must we wait till India leads +the way? Scattered all over the land there are men who are +against this iniquity, and would surely be in favour of such +legislation as would make for its destruction. But few would +assert that the people as a whole are even nearly ready. A +great wave of the Power of God, a great national turning +towards Him, would, we know, sweep the iniquity out of the +land as the waters of the Alpheus swept the stable-valley +clean, in the old classic story. Oh for such a sudden flow +of the River of God, which is full of water! But must we +wait until it comes? Did we wait until India herself asked +for the abolition of suttee? Surely what is needed is such +legislation as has been found necessary at home, which +empowers the magistrate to remove a child from a dangerous +house, and deprives parents of all parental rights +who are found responsible for its being forced into wrong. +Surely such action would be Imperially right; and can a +thing right in itself and carried out with a wise earnestness, +ever eventually do harm? Must it not do good in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span> +end, however agitating the immediate result may appear? +Surely the one calm answer, "<i>It is Right</i>," will eventually +silence all protest and still all turbulence!</p> + +<p>Such a law, it is well to understand at the outset, will +always be infinitely more difficult to enforce in India than +in England, because of the immensely greater difficulty here +in getting true evidence; and because—unless that River of +God flow through the land—there will be for many a year +the force of public opinion as a whole against us, or if not +actively against, then inert and valueless. Caste feeling will +come in and shield and circumvent and get behind the law. +The Indian sensitiveness concerning Custom will be all +awake and tingling with a hidden but intense vitality; and +this, which is inevitable because natural, will have to be +taken into account in every attempt made to enforce the +law. The whole situation bristles with difficulties; but are +difficulties an argument for doing nothing?</p> + +<p>"Whoever buys hires or otherwise obtains possession of, +whoever sells lets to hire or otherwise disposes of any minor +under sixteen with the intent that such minor shall be +employed or used for ;. . . any unlawful purpose or knowing +it likely that such minor will be employed or used for any +such purpose shall be liable to imprisonment up to a term +of ten years and is also liable to a fine."</p> + +<p><i>But</i> where it appeared that certain minor girls were +being taught singing and dancing and were being made to +accompany their grandmother and Temple woman to the +Temple with a view to qualify them as Temple women, it +was held that this did not amount to a disposal of the +minors within the meaning of the section.</p> + +<p>Ought this interpretation of the Indian Penal Code to +be possible? The proof the law requires at present, proof +of the sale of the child or its definite dedication to the idol, +is rarely obtainable. The fact that it is being taught singing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span> +and dancing (although it is well known, as the barrister's +letter proves, that among orthodox Hindus such arts are +never taught to little children except when the intention is +bad) is not considered sufficient evidence upon which to base +a conviction. To us it seems that the presence of the child +in such a house, or in any house of known bad character, +is sufficient proof that it is in danger of the worst wrong +that can be inflicted upon a defenceless child—the demoralisation +of its soul, the spoiling of its whole future life, before it +has ever had a chance to know and choose the good.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-48.jpg" width="550" height="387" alt="From the Rock, Dohnavur." title="" /> +<span class="caption">From the Rock, Dohnavur.</span> +</div> + +<p>And so we write it finally as our solemn conviction that +there is need for a law like our own English law, and we +add—and those who know India know how true this sentence +is—<i>such legislation, however carefully framed, will be a +delusion, a blind, a dead letter, unless men of no ordinary +insight and courage and character are appointed to see that +it is carried out</i>.</p> + +<p>God grant that these chapters, written in weakness, may +yet do something towards moving the Church to such prayer +that the answer will be, as once before, that an angel will +be sent to open the doors of the prison-house!</p> + +<p>The frontispiece shows the rock to which we go sometimes +when we feel the need of a climb and a blow. It is +associated in our minds with a story:—"Between the passages +by which Jonathan sought to go over unto the Philistines' +garrison there was a sharp rock on the one side and a +sharp rock on the other side. . . . And Jonathan said to the +young man that bare his armour: 'Come and let us go +over unto the garrison of these uncircumcised: it may be +that the Lord will work for us: for there is no restraint +to the Lord to save by many or by few.' And his armour-bearer +said unto him: 'Do all that is in thine heart: turn +thee, behold I am with thee according to thy heart.'"</p> + +<p>We have a rock to climb, and there is nothing the least<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span> +romantic about it. We shall have to climb it "upon our hands +and upon our feet." It is all grim earnest. "We make our way +wrapped in glamour to the Supreme Good, the summit," writes +Guido Rey, the mountaineer, in the joy of his heart. But later +it is: "One precipice fell away at my feet, and another rose +above me. . . . It was no place for singing." Friends, we shall +come to such places on the Matterhorn of life. As we follow the +Gleam wherever it leads, may we count upon the upholding of +those for whom we have written—the lovers of little children?</p> +<div class="sidenote">"So God maketh His Precious Opal"</div> + +<p>And now, in conclusion, all I would say has already +been so perfectly said, that I cannot do better than copy +from the writings of two who fought a good fight and have +been crowned—Miss Ellice Hopkins, brave, sensitive, soldier-soul +on the hardest of life's battlefields; and George Herbert, +courtier, poet, and saint. "Often in that nameless discouragement," +wrote Miss Hopkins, as she lay slowly dying, "before +unfinished tasks, unfulfilled aims and broken efforts, I have +thought of how the creative Word has fashioned the opal, +made it of the same stuff as desert sands, mere silica—not a +crystallised stone like the diamond, but rather a stone with a +broken heart, traversed by hundreds of small fissures which let +in the air, the breath, as the Spirit is called in the Greek of our +Testament; and through those two transparent mediums of +such different density it is enabled to refract the light, and +reflect every lovely hue of heaven, while at its heart burns a +mysterious spot of fire. When we feel, therefore, as I have +often done, nothing but cracks and desert dust, we can say: So +God maketh His precious opal!"</p> + +<p>We would never willingly disguise one fraction of the truth +in our desire to win sympathy and true co-operation. There +will be hours of nameless discouragement for all who climb the +rock. For some there will be the "broken heart."</p> + +<p>And yet there is a joy that is worth it all a thousand times—well +worth it all. Who that has known it will doubt it?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span> +This reach of water recalls it. The palms, as we look at them, +seem to lift their heads in solemn consciousness of it. For the +water-side—where we stand with those for whom we have +travailed in soul, when for the first time they publicly confess +their faith in Christ—is a sacred place to us.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-49.jpg" width="550" height="388" alt="THE PLACE OF BAPTISM." title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE PLACE OF BAPTISM.</span> +</div> + +<p>Has our story wandered sometimes into sorrowful ways? +To be true it has to be sorrowful sometimes. We look back to +the day of its beginning, the day that our first little Temple +child came and opened a new door to us.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +Since that time many a bitter storm<br /> +My soul hath felt, e'en able to destroy,<br /> +Had the malicious and ill-meaning harm<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">His swing and sway;</span><br /> +But still Thy sweet original joy<br /> +Sprung from Thine eye did work within my soul,<br /> +And surging griefs when they grew bold control,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And got the day.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>It is true. Many a bitter storm has come; there have been the +shock and the darkness of new knowledge of evil, and grief +beside which all other pain pales, the grief of helplessness in the +face of unspeakable wrong. But still, above and within, and +around, like an atmosphere, like a fountain, there has been +something bright, even that "sweet original joy" which +nothing can darken or quench.</div> + +<div class='poem'> +If Thy first glance so powerful be<br /> +A mirth but opened and sealed up again,<br /> +What wonders shall we feel when we shall see<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Thy full-orbed love!</span><br /> +When Thou shalt look us out of pain,<br /> +And one aspect of Thine spend in delight,<br /> +More than a thousand worlds' disburse in light<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In heaven above!</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>And not alone, oh, not alone, shall we see Him as He is! +There will be the little children too.</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><i>Those who care to know how the Temple Children's work began +will find the story in</i> "<span class="smcap">Things As They Are</span>." <i>Preface by +Eugene Stock; 320 pp. and Thirty-two Illustrations from Photographs +taken specially for this work. Cloth, 2s. 6d. net (post free +2s. 10d.) Also,</i> "<span class="smcap">Overweights of Joy</span>." <i>Preface by Rev. T. +Walker, C.M.S. With Thirty-four Illustrations chiefly from Photographs +taken specially for this work. Cloth, 2s. 6d. net (post free +2s. 10d.), Morgan & Scott Ld., 12, Paternoster Buildings, London.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h3>ONLY A LIMITED NUMBER OF COPIES REMAIN</h3> + +<h4>OF THE<br /></h4> + +<div class='bbox'> +<h2>ORIGINAL EDITION OF</h2> + +<h1>LOTUS BUDS</h1> +</div> + +<div class='center'><br /><small>CONTAINING</small><br /> + +FIFTY PHOTOGRAVURE ILLUSTRATIONS.<br /> + +———————<br /> + +Cloth Boards, <b>14s. 6d.</b> <i>net</i> (<i>post free</i>, 15s.).<br /> + +———————<br /> + +"THE MOST STRIKING MISSIONARY BOOK EVER PUBLISHED."<br /> + +<i>Her Majesty Queen Alexandra graciously accepted a copy.</i></div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The feature of the book is fifty photogravure illustrations from photographs specially +taken of the children. Many of these—indeed, all of them—are very charming. Some +of them are mere babies, others of larger growth, but in each case the photographer has +succeeded in presenting pictures which will elicit high admiration. The laughing faces, +curly hair, and fine physical development of the little Indians, make photographs +exceedingly attractive. Indeed, we have never seen a more 'taking' series of children +of the Orient. . . . The book will interest not only supporters of missions but all lovers +of children."—<i>The Westminster Gazette.</i></p> + +<p>"The photogravure illustrations—fifty in number—are perfect as works of art. +Some are pictures of scenery; most are characteristic representations of the children. +All are full-page."—<i>British Weekly.</i></p> + +<p>";. . . the beautiful little faces depicted in the photogravures which adorn the +volume. There are fifty of these photogravures in the book, the major portion being of +children, and we regard it as extremely improbable that more splendid pictures are to be +found in any other work."—<i>Baby.</i></p> + +<p>"The most wonderful photographs."—<i>Contemporary Review.</i></p> + +<p>"We have seldom seen more attractive illustrations than those of the Indian children +which are here reproduced."—<i>East and West.</i></p> + +<p>"They are the finest photographs of children we have ever seen, and beautifully +produced."—<i>The Record.</i></p> + +<p>"We must, in conclusion, compliment all concerned in the manner in which this +appeal for the children has been issued—the author, the artist, and the publishers +(Messrs. Morgan & Scott Ld.), having combined to produce in 'Lotus Buds' a fine piece +of work."—<i>The Publishers' Circular.</i></p></div> +<div class='center'> +———————<br /> + + +MORGAN & SCOTT LD., 12, Paternoster Buildings, London, E.C.<br /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span></p> +<div class='center'>ALSO BY AMY WILSON-CARMICHAEL</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class='unindent'><b><big>THINGS AS THEY ARE:</big></b><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">MISSION WORK IN SOUTHERN INDIA</span></div> + +<div class='hang1'>With Preface by <span class="smcap">Eugene Stock</span>. 320 pages, and Thirty-two beautiful Illustrations from +Photographs taken specially for this work. Ninth Edition. Paper, <b>1s. 6d.</b> <i>net</i> (<i>post +free</i>, <b>1s. 9d.</b>); Cloth Boards, <b>2s. 6d.</b> <i>net</i> (<i>post free</i>, <b>2s. 10d.</b>).</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dr. A. Rudisill</span>, M.E. Press, Madras:—"In 'Things as They Are' are pictured by +pen and camera some things as they are. It is all the more needful now when so many +are deceived, and are being deceived, as to the true nature of idolatry, that people at +home who give and pray should be told plainly that what Paul wrote about idolaters in +Rome and Corinth is still true of idolaters in India."</p> + +<p>"The account of native life, of the customs of the people, of the few pleasures they +enjoy, and the many sorrows that oppress them, is as accurate as it is lucid and entertaining. +It will be well to give this book studious attention; it is so completely sincere +and so free from prejudice; and there are many excellent illustrations after photographs."—<i>Literary +World.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div class='unindent'><b><big>OVERWEIGHTS OF JOY:</big></b><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">MISSION WORK IN SOUTHERN INDIA</span></div> + +<div class='hang1'>Preface by Rev. <span class="smcap">T. Walker</span>, C.M.S. 320 pages, and Thirty-four beautiful Illustrations +from Photographs taken specially for this work. Paper <b>1s. 6d.</b> <i>net</i> (<i>post free</i>, <b>1s. 9d.</b>).; +Cloth Boards, <b>2s. 6d.</b> <i>net</i> (<i>post free</i>, <b>2s. 10d.</b>). (Companion Volume to "Things as +They Are.")</div> + +<p>"There is a life and enthusiasm and devotion, combined with literary ability and winsomeness +of style, which make the book very captivating, as well as very touching. It is +quite wonderfully illustrated with sunsets on the Ghauts and all kinds of wonders, and +withal it is a song of spiritual triumph from a soul that feels intensely the cost of the +Cross. A book, indeed, for every Christian home."—<i>The Churchman.</i></p> + +<p>"One of the most striking and inspiring missionary books of recent years."—<i>The +Christian World.</i><br /><br /></p> + + +<div class='unindent'><big><b>THE BEGINNING OF A STORY</b></big></div> + +<div class='hang1'>Being the story of the beginning of the work among Temple children, related for the +friends of the Temple children. Bound in Art Covers, tied with silk cord. Artistic +design embossed in gold, <b>6d.</b> <i>net</i> (<i>post free</i>, <b>8d.</b>).</div> + +<p>"This little book tells a touching story. It is hoped that many who are interested in +the work on behalf of Indian children exposed to terrible peril will circulate this booklet +to further a cause which has aroused widespread and prayerful interest."—<i>Irish Baptist +Magazine.</i></p> + +<p>"This is a delightful booklet in its attractive blue and gold covers, and with the +picture of the smiling Indian maiden looking out upon us."—<i>Bible Standard.</i></p> + +<div class='center'> +———————<br /> + +MORGAN & SCOTT LD., 12, Paternoster Buildings, London, E.C.</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> + +<p>Obvious punctuation errors were corrected.</p> + +<p>The original contained each chapter number and title on a page +preceding the actual start of the chapter. These repeated Chapter Titles were removed to avoid redundancy.</p> + +<p>Varied hyphenation, such as "armchair" and "arm-chair", was retained. +The Bear Garden is not hyphenated when used in titles but is hyphenated within the text.</p> + +<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOTUS BUDS***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 29427-h.txt or 29427-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/9/4/2/29427">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/4/2/29427</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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