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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes index 6833f05..d7b82bc 100644 --- a/.gitattributes +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -1,3 +1,4 @@ -* text=auto -*.txt text -*.md text +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt index 6c72794..b5dba15 100644 --- a/LICENSE.txt +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -7,5 +7,5 @@ the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize -this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +this book outside of the United States should confirm copyright status under the laws that apply to them. @@ -1,2 +1,2 @@ -Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for eBook #77569 -(https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/77569) +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +book #77569 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/77569) diff --git a/The_Wondrous.txt b/The_Wondrous.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 86217c2..0000000 --- a/The_Wondrous.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3501 +0,0 @@ -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77569 *** -Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed. - - - -[Illustration: Day by day the monarch went out to reap his corn - and bind up his sheaves.] - - - - THE - - WONDROUS SICKLE - - And Other Stories - - - BY - - A. L. O. E. - - _Authoress of "Ned Franks,"_ - _"The White Bear's Dean," &c._ - - - [Illustration] - - - London - GALL AND INGLIS, 25 PATERNOSTER SQUARE; - _AND EDINBURGH._ - - - - Contents. - - —————— - - THE WONDROUS SICKLE - - THE ZAMINDAR - - CHAPTER I. - - CHAPTER II. - - CHAPTER III. - - CHAPTER IV. - - CHAPTER V. - - CHAPTER VI. - - CHAPTER VII. - - CHAPTER VIII. - - THE VILLAGE AND THE CITY - - THE STRAIT GATE - - AN HOUR OF PERIL - - THE GENEROUS BENEFACTOR - - THE DESECRATED TEMPLE - - THE TWENTY-FOUR PIECES OF SILVER - - THE BAD BARGAIN - - THE ILL-FAVOURED BRIDE - - THE LADDER OF LIFE - - THE BRAHMIN BOY - - - - THE - - WONDROUS SICKLE - - And Other Stories - - - - THE - - WONDROUS SICKLE. - - [Illustration] - -FATH MASIH had been appointed "patwari" * in a large village. Though -many Hindus and Mahomedans in that village had been annoyed at the -situation being given to a Christian, and some bigoted individuals -annoyed him as much as they could, the poor in general were pleased. -Here was a man who dealt justly; here was a man who took no bribes; -here was a man ready to listen to the appeal of the humblest, a friend -of the widow and the orphan. The people thought better of Christianity, -when they saw the life led by the Christian. - - * The business of the patwari is to measure land, keep a map of -the district, &c. His is a small office under Government, giving -considerable opportunity for fleecing the peasantry. - -Fath Masih and his wife were almost shut out from intercourse with any -others of their own faith. The only Christian whom they ever saw was -Ishák, who had a place in the Forest Department at a station ten miles -distant, and who, about once a-month, managed to come over and see -them. Ishák was a pious man, and a warm friend of Fath Masih. It might -be expected that the meeting between the two Christians would be a -great pleasure to both. It would, indeed, have been so, had not Ishák, -every time that he came to Durhiala, found Fath Masih more and more in -low health, and depressed in spirits. - -"I can hardly endure this life," said the poor patwari, one day, as -he sat under the shade of a banyan beside his friend. "My wife and I -have no one with whom to hold Christian converse. There is no church -in which, on Sundays, our souls can be refreshed by hearing the Word -of God. When we are in trouble, there is no one to remind us that the -Lord chasteneth those whom He loveth. If we look to the right, behold, -a Hindu temple,—to the left, we see through the trees the domes of a -Mahomedan mosque. It is very depressing!" - -"It is so, indeed," replied Ishák, who was himself in much the same -position. "But you have still the comfort of the Bible and prayer." - -The face of Fath Masih grew only the sadder. He gave a deep sigh -before he replied,—"The worst of all is that I am losing my pleasure -in reading the Bible, and all my comfort in prayer. My soul, from want -of Christian intercourse, is becoming dry, like a field that never is -watered. I fear that were my Lord to send a message to me, as He did to -Ephesus of old, it would be, 'I have something against thee: thou hast -fallen from thy first love'" (Rev. ii. 4). The words ended with a deep -sigh. - -Ishák looked anxiously at his friend, whose melancholy was evidently -affecting his health. - -"Does your wife feel the loneliness as much as you do?" asked Ishák, -after a pause. - -"Perhaps not," replied Fath Masih gravely. "Many women come to visit -my wife, both Mahomedan and Hindu, but their talk is mere gossip. They -show their jewels, expect my wife to take pleasure in their weddings, -and mourn at their funerals. But, of course, there is no religious -intercourse between them." - -Ishák looked almost as grave as his friend on hearing this. He had -noticed that Moni's dress was less distinctively Christian than it had -been in the city in which she had formerly dwelt; that she wore more -gaudy ornaments, as if to look like the women around her. He fancied -that Fath Masih was not quite satisfied with his wife, and felt that, -in this heathen place, her love, like his own, was growing cold. - -"I sometimes wonder whether I ought to stop in Durhiala," said Fath -Masih. - -"Your present situation was procured with much difficulty," observed -his friend; "and I remember how fervently you thanked God for granting -your prayers at last, and enabling you to be independent of all -assistance from the Mission." - -"Yes, I was thankful, and I am thankful, for this," replied Fath Masih. -"I think it a mean thing, and a wrong thing, for a man who can support -himself to be always coming for help, and taking from the store, which -is all too small to supply the wants of such as are really unable to -work. I have seen men—with a great show of religion, too—who seemed -to me like the leech, with their one cry of 'Give, give!' Thank God! -I am able to help the good cause a little myself, instead of sitting -with folded hands, expecting others to put bread into the mouth of -a sluggard." Fath Masih followed the excellent example of those who -always give at least a tenth of whatever they possess to God, and find -that they are never the poorer for so doing. - -"Were you to leave your post here, you would be dependent again," -observed Ishák. - -"That is what keeps me here, and the thought that God sent me here," -said Fath Masih. "But am I right in believing that He sent me here, -when my soul is in danger of starving for lack of spiritual food? Its -life seems to be decreasing day by day. If we remain here long, I fear -that we shall be 'dead' Christians—Christians only in name!" Fath Masih -turned his face aside, to hide the tears that had started into his eyes. - -Ishák said nothing more at that time, and indeed had then no -opportunity to continue the subject, for Moni gave notice that she had -served up the evening meal. - -The food was eaten almost in silence. Fath Masih felt too sad and too -ill to care to eat much, and his friend was lost in thought. But when -the "pilau" was succeeded by fruit, as the heap of ripe mangoes rapidly -lessened, Ishák, in a cheerful tone, engaged in conversation, and even -Fath Masih, swallowing the luscious golden juice, seemed to forget half -his gloom. Ishák offered to tell a story, and Moni, as well as her -husband, gladly listened. - -"Once upon a time there was a king, good and just, and beloved by his -subjects. But he had not been long seated on the throne before his -health began to fail. Re cared not to go forth from his palace, and all -its beautiful adornments gave him no pleasure. The feast spread before -him he scarcely tasted, for all his appetite was gone. The king grew -thin, his form wasted, he had no spirit either for work or amusement. -At last, the courtiers whispered amongst themselves, 'Alas! Alas! Our -king is gradually wasting away! He will not long remain in this world!' - -"Many doctors were sent for; various were the opinions which they gave -as to the cause of the king's illness, the nature of his disease. Some -persons even hinted at poison. Much medicine was given to the king, but -still he grew no better. He seemed at last unable to do anything but -recline on cushions, taking hardly any nourishment, and finding solace -in nothing but smoking his hookah. It was commonly reported in the -city, 'Our good king is going to die.' - -"At last, a very famous physician from a neighbouring country was sent -by its friendly king. The fame of this physician had been spread far -and wide, so numerous had been the cures which he had wrought. It was -said, 'Our king's last chance is from this man's skill; if it fail in -this case, all hope is lost!' - -"The physician was admitted to the presence of the king, whom he found -pale and almost lifeless, with closed eyes, extended on his soft couch. -The physician felt the king's pulse, inquired into his symptoms, and -then asked for twenty-four hours before deciding on his case. - -"Those twenty-four hours were a time of great anxiety to many both -within and without the palace, and most of all to the poor sick king. - -"The next day the physician returned with something wrapped up in an -embroidered cloth, and with a countenance so cheerful that the hearts -of all gathered hope. - -"'Have you, O physician! found out any cure for my grievous sickness?' -asked the king. - -"'I have found something, O Ruler of the world! which, by the favour -of the All-merciful, may work a cure, if used with courage and -perseverance,' said the physician. - -"'I will shrink from no remedy, however painful,' cried the king, 'if -only my lost health can be restored.' - -"The physician slowly opened the folds of the cloth, and behold! a -bright sickle, with handle of carved ivory, appeared in view. The -attendants looked on in wonder, for they knew not by what magic power a -sickle could work a cure. - -"Then said the physician, 'Every day, O mighty Monarch! take this -sickle in your royal hand, and descend into yon field in which I behold -corn ripening in the sunshine. Ply the sickle with force and vigour, -until the ivory handle almost cleave to the hand that grasps it, and -the toil-drops stand on your Majesty's brow. Then, returning to the -palace, deign to partake of the food which will then be set before your -Majesty. Persevere in thus using my sickle until yon field be reaped, -and if my lord's health be not improved, let his servant's head be the -forfeit.' - -"The sick monarch agreed to try the virtue of the wonderful sickle, -which, when not actually used, was, by his command, to be kept locked -up in a sandal-wood chest. No one was to touch one ear of corn in the -little field except the king, who hoped to gather health from its -reaping. - -"He went forth alone on the following morning with the wonderful -sickle, nor returned till his hand almost clave to the ivory, and the -toil-drops stood on his brow. - -"Bring me food—and quickly!' cried the king, 'I am half dead with -fatigue!' And he threw himself back on his cushions. - -"Food was served in silver vessels. The courtiers looked on wondering -as the king proceeded to eat it. - -"'Yesterday,' whispered one, 'the dishes went away almost as full as -when they were brought. To-day the king has almost finished the pilau, -and now he is busy with the curry and rice!' - -"After a plentiful meal, the king, who was usually sleepless, fell into -a long, deep slumber. When he awoke, he observed with a smile, 'I have -not had such a sleep for many months. There must be magic virtue in the -sickle.' - -"Day by day the monarch went out to reap his corn, and bind up his -sheaves, which were always given to the poor. Day by day he returned -weary, and very hungry. His step grew firmer, his eye brighter, he -was far more cheerful and hopeful. Soon the king gave audience to -ambassadors, then felt able again to judge the cause of the poor in -person. All the dwellers in the city rejoiced to see his returning -health, all praised the gifted physician, and sick grandees offered the -latter thousands of rupees for magic sickles like that used by the king. - -"When all the corn in the little field had been reaped by the royal -hand, the monarch sent for the physician. He loaded the doctor with -praises and costly gifts, and permitted him to return to his own land. -The wonderful sickle was preserved amongst the choicest treasures of -the king." - -"Was there really magic virtue in the sickle?" asked Fath Masih, when -Ishák had finished his story. - -Ishák's only reply was a smile. - -"I suspect that the real medicine in it was the work which it made the -king do, and the cure was the effect of that work on the monarch's -health and spirits," observed Moni, who was a very intelligent woman. - -"True," was Ishák's reply, "and it was not without a purpose that I -have told you this story, which I read in a book long ago. Fath Masih! -Your soul is faint, you are almost weary of life; you think that you -are placed in a spiritual desert; I see in it a field, yea, a promising -field of corn. You are surrounded by enemies of your faith; there is -not one amongst them that is not a possible convert to that faith. -To the Hindu temple and Mahomedan mosque throng beings with immortal -souls, souls that our Lord died to save, souls that may be won for Him. -Take the sharp weapon of God's Word in your hand; grasp it by the ivory -handle of prayer. Why hath God brought you to this dark place but that -your light may shine to His glory! There is little danger of love dying -out when it is actively, prayerfully engaged in work for the good of -souls." - -Fath Masih made no reply, his eyes were fixed on the ground. A painful -consciousness had come upon him that his conduct had been that of the -man who buried his talent in the earth. He was becoming less and less -"fervent in spirit," because not "serving the Lord." - -No more was said in conversation on the subject, but when Ishák that -evening led the family devotions, he earnestly prayed that the Holy -Spirit of God might be shed into the heart of each present, that not -one might stand idle when the Lord saith, 'Go work in my vineyard;' -but that all might inherit the blessing promised to those who, turning -'many to righteousness, shall shine as the stars for ever and ever.' -(Daniel xii. 3). - -"We are all weakness!" he cried. "But Thou, O Lord, art our strength! -Thou canst put treasure into earthen vessels; Thou canst touch the dumb -lips with living fire; Thou canst give power to the feeblest reaper; -and from Thee alone we look for the harvest, the precious harvest of -souls!" - -Ishák departed on the following morning, and a longer time than usual -elapsed before he was again able to revisit his friend. The weather -being exceedingly hot, Ishák started on his long walk to Durhiala -whilst the stars were yet shining in the sky, and arrived about two -hours after sunrise. - -As Ishák approached the village, he met ten or twelve little children, -some of whom had primers in their hands, and who were smilingly -repeating to each other some simple rhyme which they had just been -learning. - -"What! Is there a school in Durhiala?" asked Ishák of the eldest child -of the party. - -"No, there never was a school," said the child; "but the patwari's bibi -lets us come to her of a morning, and teaches us 'bhajans' * and our -letters, and when we learn well, she sometimes gives us fruit." - - * A wild kind of song, much admired by Hindus. - -"And she tells us such nice stories!" cried a smiling, bright-eyed -little girl. - -"What kind of stories?" asked Ishák. - -Then half-a-dozen eager voices answered at once— - -"Oh! About the Holy Baby that was put in a manger." - -"About the Lord who loves little children." - -"About the song of the angels." - -"About the lost sheep and the Good Shepherd!" - -Ishák smiled on the eager little pupils, and passed on, with a silent -thanksgiving to God that Moni had laid her hand to the sickle. - -One lame little girl came limping after the rest. - -Ishák stopped to speak to her also. "Have you too been to the patwari's -bibi?" he asked. - -The child looked up timidly into his face, and reading kindness there -she replied, "She has been putting something on my bad boils to make -them well." - -"Is the bibi clever at making people well?" inquired Ishák. - -The girl looked rather doubtful. "She could not make little brother -well, though she tried," was the child's reply. "She sat beside him -all night long, but he died in the morning, and poor mother sobbed and -wailed, for he was her only boy." - -"Did the bibi not try to comfort her?" asked Ishák gently, stooping -down to listen to the scarcely audible reply. - -"The bibi told mother that she had lost her own—her only little baby; -but she said that God had comforted her in her trouble, for she knew -that her baby had gone to be with the Lord Jesus, who carries little -lambs in His bosom." - -Again a silent thanksgiving arose from the heart of Ishák. "My friend's -wife is like the woman who hid leaven in three measures of meal," -he said to himself. "Oh! May God make this once childless woman the -spiritual mother of many!" - -Ishák had now come in view of the patwari's house. He saw Fath -Masih, who was engaged in such earnest conversation with an -intelligent-looking young man, that he did not notice the approach of -his friend. - -Tired as he was, Ishák would not interrupt the conversation, for, from -the earnest manner of the speakers, and the few words which reached his -ears, it was evident that it was on the subject of religion. Ishák saw -Fath Masih place a little book in the young man's hand, and heard his -parting words, "You promise to read it—and with prayer!" - -The reply Ishák could not hear, but he read it in the thoughtful -countenance of the young man as he turned and departed with a copy of -the Gospel in his hand. - -Then Fath Masih caught sight of Ishák, and hastened to welcome him, -with a countenance beaming with joy. As he grasped his friend's hand, -he exclaimed, "O Ishák, I thank God for bringing me here! I think that -there are three real inquirers in this place!" - -"You too have laid your hand to the sickle," said Ishák; "and, to judge -from your face, you do not find the work irksome." - -"It is a blessed, blessed work!" exclaimed Fath Masih. "God forgive me -for leaving it so long undone! I feel now that not only missionaries, -but every Christian in India should pass on the glad tidings to others. -I used to content myself with praying, 'Lord! The harvest is great; -send forth more labourers into Thy harvest.' Now I myself have heard -His call, and venture humbly to say, 'Here am I, send me!'" - -"But do not your efforts raise up much opposition?" asked Ishák. "Do -you not bring yourself into trouble?" - -"I have sometimes a little of that trouble which is coupled with a -blessing," replied Fath Masih cheerfully. "But I never now feel that -weariness, that deadness of spirit which oppressed me when last you -were here. My experience has been something like that of the king in -your story," he added, smiling; "I find that health, and vigour, and -joy come from the use of the wonderful sickle!" - -[Illustration] - - - - THE ZAMINDAR. - - [Illustration] - -CHAPTER I. - -THE sun had set; the red glow had just died away in the sky, but -the moon had risen. A railway official, named Karim, stood on the -platform of the small station of Banda, watching for an expected train. -A zamindar (peasant) * named Matrá, came up to him, and asked him -respectfully when the train from Calcutta would arrive. - - * In parts of India, a farmer. - -"I expect it in ten minutes," answered Karim. - -The zamindar sat down on the ground, like one who is very weary. As -Karim looked at him, pity arose in the official's heart. Matrá was -quite young, scarcely eighteen years of age, but lines of care were -already on his features. His blanket was little better than a rag. His -limbs, naturally strong and graceful, were thin as if from lack of -food. As he sat on the ground, a deep sigh came from the poor zamindar. - -"You seem tired," observed Karim kindly. - -"I was up before the sun, and have been driving the plough all the -day," said Matrá; "and now I have just walked seven miles to this -station." - -"Are you going a long journey?" asked Karim, who noticed that the -zamindar had no bundle with him, not even a hookah or brass lota. - -"I am not going on any journey," replied the zamindar. "I have come to -meet the train, because I hope that it may bring my father." - -"You must be very anxious to see him that you come so far after a long -day's work," observed Karim, seating himself beside the zamindar on an -empty box which chanced to be on the platform. - -It was pleasant to the zamindar to have some one to converse with, some -one who spoke in a friendly tone, and who was willing to listen. Matrá -was soon telling his simple story. - -"My father is a sepoy," he said, "and it is ten or twelve years since -he left our village to march away with his regiment. I can remember -that day very well; how grand I thought it to see the sepoys marching, -and hear the music playing. But we have never had anything but trouble -since that unlucky day. First came my marriage." - -"Was that a trouble?" asked Karim, smiling. - -"It did not seem so at the time. We had fine clothes, and feasting, -and drum-beating, and fireworks let off in our village. It was a -grand 'tamasha!' The girl's family were Chhatries, so, of course, my -grandfather would have all done in good style, and many rupees were -given both to the father of the bride and the Brahmins, and there were -jewels to buy besides. Then first my grandfather fell into debt, and in -debt we have been ever since. It is easier to get into a bog than out -of it." - -Karim nodded his head in assent. - -[Illustration: "You must be very anxious to see him that you come so -far after a long day's work," observed Karim.] - -"Before the girl came to live with us," continued the young zamindar, -"as she was playing with her little companions on the top of the house, -she fell over, broke her neck, and was taken up dead!" - -Matrá could not be expected to mourn much for a child-wife whom he had -hardly seen. Karim rightly guessed that the zamindar's evident regret -was chiefly on account of the debt incurred by the expense of such a -profitless marriage. "And what were your other troubles?" he asked. - -"My grandfather fell sick not long after this, and sick he continued -for years. He had no son but my father, and my father was far away -with the army. Mere boy as I was, I did what I could, looked after the -buffaloes, and worked in the fields, but I could not do the work of a -man. And there was always the debt a-growing, like the gourds in the -rains." - -"Did your father do nothing to help you?" inquired Karim. - -"He sent several times five-rupee notes," said the zamindar, "but it -was like throwing stones into a bog, which swallows them up and you see -no more of them. The money-lenders could never have enough. My mother -fretted and went on pilgrimage, and bathed at holy ghauts, and did -pujá at many shrines. But she took the smallpox and died, though she -had made many offerings to the goddess of smallpox." Matrá sighed very -deeply; the loss of his mother lay much more heavily on his heart than -that of his little wife. - -"You have indeed had troubles," observed Karim. - -"You have not heard the end of them," said the poor young zamindar. "My -grandfather died at last. I paid all the respect I could to his body. I -feasted for days a hundred neighbours who came to its burning, gave a -cow and many rupees to the Máhá-Brahmin, and myself carried the ashes -to the Ganges, though it was just the season when the corn was ripe -for reaping. If I had been in the bog of debt before, I was now up to -my eyes! It's heartless work watering one's fields in the dry season, -and seeing the corn springing up so green, when one knows that the -money-lender may sweep down any day like the locusts, and eat up all -the fruit of one's toil!" - -"Is not running into debt at all the cause of the mischief?" observed -Karim. - -"What is to be done?" said the zamindar sadly. "Wedding and funeral -ceremonies are the ruin of the poor, and bad seasons which come now and -then, when there's drought, and the heat dries up all the crop." - -"Have you no relations to help you?" asked Karim. - -"Not one on earth but my poor old grandmother, who is now scarcely able -even to spin or card cotton; and my father, who has been so long away. -But he is coming back at last!" said the zamindar, and a look of joy -beamed on his careworn face. "I had a letter from him some weeks ago -(I've learned to read a little in a village school), and I made out -that he would be here before the rabi * harvest is ripe; the corn is -green enough yet, but I thought that after work, I would come over here -to meet him. Maybe my father will arrive sooner than he said; any-ways, -I would not miss my chance of the first sight of him, if I had to walk -twenty miles." - - * The spring harvest. Let it be borne in mind that there are two annual -harvests at least in some parts of India, so that the zamindar may -often be seen ploughing in one field, while a rich crop covers the next -one. - -"Would you remember the face of the father whom you have not seen since -you were a child?" asked Karim. - -"I know that he was tall—taller than any other peasant in our -village—and that he used to seat me on his shoulder, and then I could -pluck mangoes from the high boughs," replied Matrá, brightening at the -recollection of the happy time which he had had with his father. "I -can't just bring his face to my mind—I wish that I could—but surely I -should know him if he arrived. How long the train is of coming!" he -said suddenly, looking down the long, dark line of railway. - -"The whistle has not yet sounded," said the official; "we shall have -notice when the train is drawing near." - - - -CHAPTER II. - -"I TOO have had many troubles," said Karim, after a little pause, -"perhaps even greater troubles than you. But my Father has helped me -out of them all." - -"It is a great thing to have a father near at hand," said the young -zamindar. "Probably you live with yours, and see him every day." - -"I have never seen Him yet," replied Karim. - -"Never seen him yet!" repeated Matrá. "Then you are worse off than I -am. But you say that he helps you in all your troubles." - -"There is not a thing that happens to grieve me that I do not tell Him -of," said Karim, "and my Father sets everything right. There never was -another so kind and so wise, or so powerful either." - -"Then I wonder that he keeps you here looking after the trains," -observed Matrá. "He might find some better situation for you; or, if he -be rich, give you all that you want, without need of your working at -all." - -"My Father thinks it better for me to earn my bread by honest labour," -observed the official. "But after awhile, He will call me to His own -beautiful dwelling-place, and put splendid robes upon me, and give me -freely all that my heart can desire." - -"I wish that my father could do so," said Matrá; "but I doubt that he -will ever have enough to pay off our debt. Does your father live very -far off, that he never sees you at all?" - -"He sees me always," said Karim, looking upwards; "night and day, in -darkness and light, He is ever close beside me. God is my Heavenly -Father, I have now no parent beside Him." - -"Are you a Christian?" asked the zamindar. There was a little scorn in -his tone as he uttered the word. - -"I am a Christian," was Karim's reply. "A year ago, I had father, -mother, brother, sisters, friends, and as many rupees as I chose to -spend; now I am cast off by every one except that Heavenly Father, -whose love makes up for all." - -The zamindar did not understand why a man should give up home and -everything for the sake of changing his religion. "I suppose that you -were a Mahomedan," he said. - -"I was, and a bigoted one," replied Karim. - -"I think that the Mahomedan religion is good for the Mahomedans, and -the Christian for the English, and the Hindu for us Hindus," said -Matrá. "I believe what my fathers believed, and do what my fathers did. -They always performed pujá to the gods." - -"And what benefit did they receive from so doing?" asked Karim. - -It was a difficult question to answer; Matrá did not attempt to reply. - -"You do pujá to many gods; we pray but to One Supreme Being," said -Karim; "He is the Maker of everything that we behold, the bright sun, -yon moon, earth, sea, and the myriads of creatures that live therein. -As to a man there can be but one father, so can there be but one God, -and that God is Love. This is what we are taught in our holy Book." - -"I know that you Christians believe not in Krishan, Vishnu, or -Mahedeo," said Matrá, slowly rising to his feet, as if inclined to end -the conversation. - -"Listen to me, brother," said Karim, also rising to a standing -position. "You are expecting your father by the coming train, a father -whom you love, though you do not remember his face. Suppose that, when -the train stops, a Brahmin should get out of a carriage, and carry with -him some dozens of images, one with the head of an elephant, another -with a hundred arms, another with no shape at all, and should say to -you, 'Rejoice, O zamindar! "These" are the fathers whom you have been -expecting so long! Would you take the figures of brass or stone to your -bosom, and cry, 'Now am I satisfied!' Would you receive the lifeless -things, and acknowledge them to be your parent indeed?" - -The zamindar shook his head. He was expecting a living father, a loving -father; he could not receive as such any image of stone or brass. - -"And if it would be an insult to your parent to let an image for -one moment take his place, think you that the one great Father, the -Eternal, the Invisible, is not offended when His creatures liken Him to -such monstrous forms as you do pujá to in your temples?" - -"No one ever spake such things to me before," said Matrá, his common -sense striving against the force of old habits, and his fear of the -anger of those whom he had been taught to look on as gods. - -"Listen but a minute longer," said Karim earnestly. "If in your village -you heard any one saying that your father had committed theft, murder, -and done other things that it is shameful even to mention, would you -listen with a pleased countenance, and reward the speaker at the end?" - -"I would break the liar's head with my goad!" muttered the young -zamindar. - -"And yet you are willing that Brahmins should tell you of deities -committing crimes, which, if committed by a man, would drive him -from society and bring him to prison, or to the gallows! Look at yon -clear sky with its pure moon, and the stars just beginning to shine -above us, can you believe it to be peopled with beings revelling in -blood, delighting in suffering, pleased with the shrieks of helpless -babes flung into the Ganges, or the groans of victims crushed under -Juggernath's car? Does not Nature, beautiful, bounteous, pure, tell of -a Maker all perfect and holy—repeat, as it were, the words of our Book, -that there is one God, the Heavenly Father of all, and that He is Love?" - -There was no time for reply, for as Karim uttered the last word, the -whistle was heard which announced the coming train. Soon, snorting and -puffing, like some mighty monster, its one red eye gleaming through the -gloom, the train rushed up. It slackened its pace, and then stopped as -it reached the side of the platform. Karim was ready at his post. With -lamp in his hand, he passed from carriage to carriage, giving the name -of the station in case any traveller should wish to alight. - -Eagerly Matrá ran along the platform, passing the carriages occupied -by Europeans with scarcely a glance at the faces within, but anxiously -peering into every one filled with natives. The station was a small -one, and but few passengers alighted. There was a sahib whose "sais" -(groom) was waiting with his horse, a bunniah and his family, and that -was all. There was not a trace of a sepoy. - -It was with a heavy heart as well as weary limbs that poor Matrá left -the station. He knew too well the face of the bunniah, for he owed him -a debt, and had found in him one of the hardest of his creditors. The -poor man slunk away, as debtors will, with mingled fear and shame. -Matrá murmured to himself as he left the station, "I have had my weary -walk for nothing." - - - -CHAPTER III. - -HAD Matrá indeed had his walk for nothing? Any one who could have read -his heart as he went on his homeward way would hardly have said so. -A seed of truth, a living seed had been dropped there, and had found -good soil to grow in. As Matrá walked on, with the soft pure moonlight -around him, he almost forgot his weariness, he almost forgot his -burden of debt, so constantly were Karim's words coming back to his -mind—"There is but one God, and that God is Love." - -"The one God of the English seems to do more for them than our millions -of gods do for us," thought Matrá. "The English press onward like -that engine which I saw rushing into the station, with a long line of -carriages behind it. What speed, what straight course, what power! We -go on like one of our country waggons, creaking along in the old ruts, -and sometimes a wheel comes off or an ox drops down, and there we are -left on the road. What makes the difference between us? The engine goes -faster and better, pushed on by something which we cannot see, than -does the cart with the oxen which we always are goading. The God of the -Christians must be a very strong God, and the man at the station says -that He is a very kind one; but it's likely enough that He would have -nothing to do with poor Hindu zamindars such as we." - -Matrá found his old grandmother Sibbi still awake, and preparing for -him some chapatties. The poor old woman, with her shrunken fleshless -limbs, looked almost like a living skeleton as she crouched by her -little oven. There was not much appearance of life about her except in -the wistful black eyes deep sunken under the brows whitened by age. - -Sibbi was a strange old woman, not like the others in the village, and -no great favourite with them. She could actually think of something -besides marriage and funeral ceremonies, pilgrimages and pujás. Even -before she became a widow, Sibbi's whole heart had not been set on -her ornaments, and she had sold all of any value to help to pay her -husband's debts, taking even the ring out of her nose. Sibbi had drawn -upon herself the anger of the Máhá-Brahmin, by suggesting to her -grandson that on account of their exceeding poverty, the gift to him of -a very old and almost useless cow might be sufficient. It was indeed -the only one which the family possessed, but another was procured to -satisfy the covetousness of the Brahmin. - -It was supposed, and probably with reason, that the difference which -existed between old Sibbi and her neighbours was caused by her having, -when eleven years old, passed six weeks in the house of an English -lady. The parents of Sibbi had lost her at one of the great melás at -which tens of thousands of Hindus assemble, melás which occasion a -fearful amount of confusion, disease, and misery. An English magistrate -found the poor girl, frightened and almost famished, crying by the -side of the road. In compassion, he took her home to his wife. Sibbi -received in that English home kindness which she never forgot. She was -clothed, fed, and allowed to attend on the Mem Sahiba's sweet little -girl. - -In that house Sibbi had, as it were, a glimpse of paradise; and though -a loving daughter, she was hardly glad when her parents found her at -last. The parents took her away back to their village, though the lady -offered to keep her. From that day, the usual occupations of zamindars' -girls were those of Sibbi. She cooked, she carded cotton and spun it, -she worked in the fields; married early, was a servant to her husband, -and a slave to her husband's mother; but she often recalled the past, -and asked herself if the six weeks, so unlike all that preceded or -followed them, had not been a beautiful dream! One persuasion remained -on her mind, that there were other places in the world besides her -mud-built village, and that people existed more clever, and at least as -holy as Brahmins. - -Matrá sat down hungry to his insufficient meal, having first washed -his hands, feet, and face. He could have eaten twice as much as -was prepared, but took care to leave something for his poor old -grandmother. Matrá took his meal in silence, but then told Sibbi all -that had passed between himself and the man at the station. - -"One God,—and that God is Love!" repeated Sibbi to herself, looking -like one trying to recall something that has almost escaped memory, as -she put her wasted hand to her wrinkled forehead. "Missy Baba learned -to say that, little Missy Baba—the pretty one—who died. I almost cried -my eyes out when they took her away to bury her!" - -Tears came into the old woman's eyes as she remembered the sorrow which -nearly fifty years had not effaced from her loving heart. "Missy Baba -could not speak many words even in her own language, but the Mem taught -her to say, 'Our Father' and 'God is Love,' that she might repeat them -to me. She said them both the very day that she died. And when I was -crying and moaning over the little form that looked so peaceful where -it lay still and cold on the bed with a rose on its breast, the Mem -said to me, quite quiet and calm-like, 'She has gone to the God who -is Love.' I never shall forget that night! I wondered why the Mem did -not moan and beat her breast as we do, she loved the little darling so -dearly." - -"Perhaps," thought Matrá, "the same great Father who helps that -Christian in all his troubles was comforting the poor mother too." Then -Matrá observed aloud, "How could the Mem Sahib be sure that her child -had been taken to her God—how could she know that her soul had not -passed, by a new birth, into some unclean dog or ass?" - -"I am sure that it never did!" said Sibbi quickly. "Missy Baba's soul -could never have gone into anything unclean. I often think that she's -somewhere up above, like one of those; stars, safe with the Heavenly -Father!" And as she spoke, the old Hindu pointed with her trembling -fingers to a brilliant star in the east. - -Another seed of truth had been dropped into the mind of Matrá, a -thought of One who could not only support in life, but receive after -death. But it was as yet as a seed wrapt up in its husk, that needs -warmth and moisture to make it rise up to life, and burst forth to -beauty. - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -"I WONDER whether that poor half-starved fellow will come over again -this evening on the chance of meeting his father," said Karim to -himself, as on the following evening he again took his station on the -platform to watch for the train. "Here come some to meet the train, but -I take it that they are very different sort of folk from my zamindar." - -A prisoner, in clanking irons, led by two policemen, stood now on the -platform. He was going to be tried on a charge of murder, and if a -man's character could be read in his face, this one might have been -deemed guilty of any crime. Fierce wolf-like eyes glared under a mass -of shaggy hair, and as he squatted on the ground, just under the yellow -gleam of the lamp, he looked somewhat like a wild beast crouching in -the act to spring. - -As Karim gazed at this wretched man with mingled pity and disgust, -he was saluted by Matrá, the zamindar. Karim courteously returned -the salám, and then walked to the other end of the platform, that -conversation might not be overheard by policemen or prisoner, if, as he -thought probable, the zamindar should talk to him again. - -As he expected, Matrá followed his steps. - -"Have you been thinking over what I said to you last night?" asked -Karim, when both men had reached the end of the platform. - -"I've thought of little else," said the peasant. "As I watered my -buffaloes, and drove my plough, I was always turning over in my mind -what you told me of the one God, who lives up yonder, the God of Love." - -"And you believe that I spake truth?" asked the railway official. - -"How can I believe it?" cried the zamindar bitterly. "If God be a God -of love, why is the world so full of misery? Why are the poor oppressed -and trodden down like the dust under foot? Why is there crime and -wickedness?" Matrá pointed as he spake towards the prisoner. "The sun, -the dew, the rain, and the green crops seem to tell us that there is a -great God who made them, and who wishes man to be happy; but thorns and -briars, locusts and blight, plague and pestilence, poverty and famine, -they tell quite a different tale. If God be good, and powerful too, how -came misery into the world?" - -"It is a sad story, and a somewhat long one," said Karim, "but if you -wish, you shall hear the account given in our Scriptures." - -"I wish to hear it," said Matrá. - -"The good God when He had made this world, created one man and one -woman, from whom all the people that ever lived are descended." - -"What!" exclaimed Matrá in surprise. "English, Hindus, Brahmins, -Mehtars,—all descended from one pair! This is not what our Vedas tell -us." - -"No indeed," replied Karim; "your Gorus tell you that Brahmins came -from Brahma's mouth, and low caste folk from his feet; being Brahmins -themselves, they have their own reasons for telling you this," he -added, with a smile. "But listen to the true account given in the -Holy Scriptures. This first pair, named Adam and Eve, God placed in a -beautiful garden, where they lived in love, innocence, and joy. They -had abundance of fruits to eat; only as regarded one tree, the Maker -of all gave command, 'Thou shalt not eat of its fruit; if thou eatest -thereof thou shalt surely die." - -"Such a command was easily obeyed," observed Matrá. - -"There was an evil spirit, called Satan, who envied the peace and -happiness in which dwelt Adam and Eve. He had, however, no power to -harm them, unless he could tempt them into sin. Alas! He succeeded -too well! It was as if the husband and wife had had a choice placed -before them, 'Will you believe God or Satan? Will you choose God or -Satan to be your master?' A fatal choice was made. The woman ate of the -forbidden fruit and gave it to her husband, and from that hour both -fell under the power of cruel Satan. Misery, pain, sin, and death came -into the world!" - -"An evil hour for the first pair," said Matrá, "as it was for my -grandfather when he first got into the clutches of the money-lenders, -and mortgaged our land. But was it not rather hard that all the race -born of this man and woman should suffer as well as themselves?" - -"Let us take your simile," said Karim. "Your grandfather, by his act, -laid a heavy debt upon you, his grandson, but you yourself, by your own -account, have added to the debt. So not only were Adam and Eve sinners, -but Satan once getting power in the world, has tempted and drawn into -sin every man and woman in it, and one terrible sentence, that of death -for the body, and death for the soul (which is eternal separation from -God) hangs over all." - -"Could not God forgive us all the debt, as He is, as you tell me, -Love?" inquired the zamindar. - -"If your creditor took you before the judge, and that judge were the -kindest man in the world, he might pity you, indeed, but justice would -compel him to give a sentence against you. The judge might be powerful, -wise and good, but still you would be ruined." - -Poor Matrá looked very sad; he knew that this was indeed too true. -A just and kind judge could not save him from the consequences of -incurring a debt which he could not pay. - -"I don't think that there is any comfort at all in your religion," said -the zamindar with a sigh. "If it only tells us that we are in the power -of a wicked spirit, and that we are separated for ever from God, and -have a great debt like a heavy stone hung round our necks to drown us, -it makes us out to be in a miser able state indeed." - -"But from that state God has found a way to save us," cried Karim -cheerfully. "If you were to be told how all your debt could be cleared -off at once, and that you should be restored to your father, and live -all the rest of your life in plenty and peace, would not your heart be -glad?" - -"I should feel as if I were in heaven!" cried Matrá. But he sighed -after he had uttered the words, for he felt that he could no more hope -for such joy than he could build a house on a rainbow. - -"God 'has' found a way of saving us, of freeing us from Satan, of -paying our debt, of—" here Karim was suddenly interrupted by the shrill -railway whistle. - -Matrá had been so much interested in the conversation that he had -almost forgotten for the moment why he had come to the station. But now -the sound of the whistle gave him joy, for it might be the signal that -his father was near. - -The same sound made a groan burst from the wretched prisoner, for it -told him that he was soon to be hurried off to the place of his trial, -probably the place of his execution. It is with such different feelings -that God's children and His enemies hear that death draws nigh. To the -first it brings hopes of a blissful meeting, to the latter the terror -of coming judgment - - - -CHAPTER V. - -AGAIN, on the train's arrival, Matrá ran anxiously along the line of -carriages, in search of his father. There was the usual hum of many -speaking, and the hissing noise of the steam let out from the boiler, -but no sound of greeting from a once familiar voice! The prisoner was -hurried by his keepers into a third-class carriage, and Matrá saw him -no more. - -Once again the zamindar sorrowfully retraced his steps homewards. -He had not the same peaceful feeling which had soothed him on the -preceding night. It was not so much a God of Love that had been -presented to his mind, as the terrible condition of those born and -living in sin. - -"Satan was cruel indeed to make the man and woman so miserable," -thought Matrá, "when they were so peaceful and happy. Why did they -listen to his evil counsel? But I might as well ask, why did we go -into debt? We knew well enough that a money-lender's heart is as hard -as a buffalo's hide. The crackers at my wedding were soon let off, the -fireworks died into darkness, the sweetmeats were eaten, the fun was -over, and then came the debt to crush us! We've had to pay dear for -the honour of the thing. Why, all that we have borrowed for wedding, -burning, and everything else hardly came to 500 rupees, and I'm sure -that, little by little, 'we've paid the whole sum three times over,' * -yet the debt remains large as ever! - -"Our land is mortgaged, every inch of it; my creditors only leave -the fields to me now, because they enable me to work, and as long as -I can work, they can squeeze something out of me still, ay, if it -were my very life-blood! Were I to fall sick—and ill-fed as I am, I -am likely enough to do so—they would be down on me at once. My poor -old grandmother and I might just lie down by the side of the road and -perish of hunger. That station-man did but mock my misery when he asked -how I should feel if I heard that my debt could be cleared off at once, -and I be restored to my father, with peace and plenty before me. That -never, never will be!" - - * I fear that this is no exaggeration. The simple peasants are -grievously cheated, and pay enormous interest. - -Matrá walked fast, as if he wished to walk away from his own bitter -thoughts, but they followed him like his black shadow. When he had -almost reached his mud hut, which was at the nearer end of the village, -the zamindar heard a low murmuring behind some bushes, in a voice which -he recognised as that of his grandmother. - -Noiselessly Matrá approached the spot, near enough to catch the meaning -of the words uttered. The old woman, with her hands pressed together, -and her forehead almost touching the ground was in the attitude of one -performing pujá, but there was no temple or idol in that place, only -the quiet jungle before her, and the dark blue sky above her. These -were the words which the zamindar heard, broken by a few low sobs— - -"I have done pujá at many shrines, but the gods do not hear me; I am -poor and old, and getting blind, and if my son does not come back soon, -I shall die without seeing his face. O God of Love! Hear me! We are -very needy and wretched, and sorely want Thy help. Perhaps up in the -bright place Thou canst look down on us poor ignorant folk, who do not -even know how to pray. Wilt Thou be angry if I too say, 'Our Father,' -and beg Thee very, very hard to send back my only son!" - -A slight rustling in the bush made by Matrá, startled the poor old -woman. She raised herself trembling lest she should have drawn upon -herself a storm of wrath by such a strange and terrible act as that of -addressing the God of the Christians. It had been some remembrance of -olden days that had made the poor creature attempt to do what she had -seen done by the English lady and Missy Baba. - -Matrá looked on Sibbi quietly for some time without uttering a word. -In the faint moonlight, and with her dimmed eyes she could not tell -from his face whether her grandson were angry or not. Still less could -Sibbi read the strange thoughts that were rising in the soul of Matrá. -Without knowing it, the old Hindu had dropped another seed of life into -the zamindar's heart. He saw devotion in a form to him perfectly new. -It was no shouting of "Rám! Rám!" or "Hari! Hari!" No wild loud singing -and drum-beating before a painted idol; no Brahmin's purchased prayers! -It was addressing an unseen Being as if He could listen, and answer, -and help. It was like a child's cry of pain, which a parent at least -understands. - -Matrá turned silently away. - -Sibbi said to herself, "He despises me; he thinks I have done an evil -thing. If I were not his grandmother, Matrá would spurn me with his -foot, and get the Brahmins to curse me." - -But Matrá's silence was not that of contempt, it was that of perplexity -and doubt. As he lay down to rest that night on his charpai, wrapped -in his ragged blanket, Matrá, caught himself repeating some of his -grandmother's words of prayer. - -When in the morning Matrá looked towards the rising sun, he thought of -what the Christian had told him about the God who made it, and wondered -whether there were in truth such a Being, to whom the sorrowful might -go in their troubles, to find in Him a Father indeed. Then Matrá -remembered what the Christian had been saying when the conversation had -been suddenly interrupted, of God's having found a way to save poor -sinners. - -"I will tie up the buffaloes a little earlier than usual," said Matrá -to himself, "that I may have a longer talk with the Christian. He at -least finds comfort in his religion, and I have none in mine. I will -hear of the way of being saved of which he told me; there is no harm -in knowing what other men believe. That Christian must have found -something in his faith very precious to be ready to give up for its -sake father, mother, all that he had in the world. Did he not say that -the love of his God made up for the loss of all?" - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -"I WANT to hear the end of your account of what you Christians think -about man and his miseries," said the zamindar, as again he stood on -the railway platform beside his new friend. - -"I would rather tell you of the way of escape which God has made for -man out of his miseries," replied the Christian. "I know the way, for I -am in it; I wish you to know it also, for it is open to you." - -The two men seated themselves, the one to speak, and the other to -listen. - -"God pitied lost man," continued Karim, "yet Divine justice and truth -required that by man punishment should be borne. No mere human being -could help his brother, because every one was himself under the same -condemnation. You, for instance, could not pay a brother's debt, -because you are in the same strait as he." - -"I could certainly help no one out of a bog in which I am sinking -myself," sighed Matrá. - -"So God sent His own Son into the world to become a man, that He might -suffer as man, and for man," said Karim. - -"Stop! You told me that there is but one God, and now you speak of His -Son!" exclaimed Matrá. "Do you Christians worship two Gods?" - -"There is but one God," replied Karim with reverence, "and yet we find -from our Scriptures that in this One there are three Persons, the -Father, the Son, and the Spirit, so closely joined that they are One, -and yet each in Himself a distinct object of devotion." - -"I do not understand," said Matrá. - -"Man cannot understand the deep things of God, but what is revealed we -must believe. A simile makes it more simple to my own mind," continued -Karim, "and it may make it more simple to yours. Is the sun in the sky -one object or two?" - -"Certainly there is but one sun," replied Matrá. - -"When we speak of the sun, we mean the sun and his beams also, for the -sun and his beams are as one. Yet, seen through a mist, the sun appears -shorn of his beams, and sometimes, on the other hand, we see the rays -when the sun himself is hidden. In one sense, therefore, they are -distinct, while in another they form but one glorious sun." - -"It is a mystery," said the zamindar thoughtfully, "but I think that -all religions have mysteries." - -"The great God," continued Karim, "sent His Son into the world to -save sinners by the sacrifice of Himself. Christ came as the sunbeams -come down, to enlighten, warm, and bless. As a body was needed for -sacrifice, the Saviour assumed a mortal body. He was born of a pure -virgin. Thus the Lord Jesus Christ was Man that He might suffer, whilst -ever continuing to be God that He might save." - -"A deity putting on a mortal form—that is an avatar," said Matrá. "I -did not know that Christians, like Hindus, believe in avatars." - -"Your Brahmins," said Karim, "tell you that one of your deities nine -times became incarnate, and that while inhabiting a body—as a fish, -a tortoise, a boar—he performed wonders, or committed crimes. We -Christians believe but in one sinless avatar; that God's Son appeared -as a mortal, that He might conquer Satan, give an example of perfect -holiness, and then die as a sacrifice for sin. The Lord Jesus, -before His avatar, knew perfectly well what His life on earth would -be, and what its terrible close. He knew that He would be despised -and rejected, poor and afflicted, He knew that He would be put to a -death of torture, nailed hands and feet to a cross. His death was the -punishment of sin, but of sin 'not His own;' He stood in our place, -bore the shame of our guilt, and paid our debt with His blood." - -"Do you indeed believe this?" exclaimed the astonished Hindu. - -"As firmly as I believe in my own existence; so firmly that I would lay -down my life as a witness to its truth, as thousands of Christians have -laid down their lives." - -"The Son of God slain as a sacrifice for sin! It sounds so strange, so -wonderful!" cried Matrá. - -"It is love passing knowledge," said Karim. "Love in the Father to -send His Son; love in the Son to be willing to die for man. The idea -of sacrifice is no new thing to Hindus. Do not your books tell of the -wondrous merit of the sacrifice of a thousand horses? But what is the -value of the blood of a crore of horses, weighed against one drop of -the blood of an Incarnate God!" - -"And what do you think that you gain by this great sacrifice?" inquired -Matrá. - -"Everything!" exclaimed the Christian with animation, his whole face -radiant with joy. "First, there is the debt of sin wiped out as if it -had never been, full and free forgiveness. Then there is peace with -God—adoption into His family, and an inheritance of endless glory -and joy in the kingdom of heaven. No mere absorption, no loss of -individuality, which is the highest hope of the Hindu, but conscious -happiness, unutterable bliss in the society of blessed saints and -angels dwelling together in perfect love in the presence of the -Heavenly Father of all." - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -THE words were still on Karim's lips, when he interrupted himself by -the sudden exclamation, "See yonder!" - -"There is a man running along the line!" said Matrá, looking in the -same direction. - -"The madman!" cried Karim. "He will be crushed by the coming train!" -And loudly he shouted, again and again, to warn the man off the -dangerous line. - -The runner appeared not to heed or to hear. The speed at which he was -advancing left him no breath to call out, but he threw up his arms -wildly as if to excite attention. - -"There may have been some accident to the train!" exclaimed Karim. - -The words went like a knife to the heart of Matrá. He could hardly -forbear rushing forwards to meet the runner, but Karim laid a hand -on his arm. The men had not long to wait. In two minutes the panting -messenger reached the platform. - -"Train ran off the line!" he gasped forth. "Carriages smashed—people -killed!" - -Karim instantly hurried away to the telegraph office, and as rapidly -as he could sent off a message to the nearest station, then went in -search of some one to despatch with the tidings to the magistrate of -the neighbouring town. He would have sent Matrá, but Matrá was not on -the platform. - -The zamindar was rushing along the line to the place where the accident -had occurred. In his overwhelming anxiety, his former fatigue was -forgotten; only Matrá felt as if weights were attached to his feet, for -his speed could not keep pace with his will. - -The scene of the accident was reached. The engine, a huge black object, -loomed before Matrá, half encircled by a mass of broken carriages. A -number of passengers were standing about, some shouting for help, some -moaning with pain, some, especially women, crying with terror. - -"Is any one killed?" gasped forth Matrá; he could hardly utter the -question. - -"A good many are hurt, only one killed," replied a railway guard, -whose face bore the mark of severe bruises. "A sepoy lies yonder, poor -fellow! His head was crushed under a wheel!" As he spoke, he pointed to -a spot a few yards distant, where, in a little pool of blood, a fearful -object to behold, lay the corpse of a tall sepoy. - -In a moment, poor Matrá was on his knees beside the body, beating his -breast, and sobbing forth, "My father! It is my father!" - -It was to him a terrible moment. For years the young zamindar's hopes -had clung to a meeting with his parent, the thought of seeing Bhola -Náth had been the one bright spot in Matrá's prospect, the one sweet -drop in his cup. And now as he looked on that poor mangled disfigured -corpse, and saw in it the wreck of all his hopes, the strength and -courage of Matrá completely gave way, he wept and sobbed like a child. - -And if such was the grief of the son, what was the anguish of the poor -old mother, when, on the following day, the sepoy's body was carried to -her wretched hovel! Then indeed did Sibbi bewail the day of her birth; -she tore the grey hairs from her head, and uttered bitter wailings, the -wailings of those who mourn without hope. - -By this time, poor Matrá had regained some calmness, but it was the -calmness of despair. He had to make preparations for burning the corpse -that night, and so miserably poor was he, that he had the bitter task -of collecting most of the materials himself. The Brahmins, knowing -that Matrá had no more power even to borrow, took very little interest -in the funeral rites; one even reproached poor Sibbi, saying that the -terrible misfortune which had come upon her was doubtless due to the -wrath of the gods whom she had offended. It mattered little now to -Sibbi whether they reproached her or not. Does the agitated ocean show -more disturbance because of the pelting of a shower? - -Nearly two hours after sunset the sad preparations were completed. The -sepoy's corpse was laid on the funeral pile, the head to the north, -the feet to the south. A man with shaven head set fire to the pile, -and soon red flames were crackling and curling around the body, and a -mass of smoke was obscuring the light of the full moon. Meta, in silent -anguish, stood by, watching the fire do its terrible work. - -"My son! What dost thou here?" exclaimed a voice behind him. - -Matrá started, as if he had been spoken to by the dead. Turning round, -he uttered a cry of joyful surprise, and then threw himself into the -arms of his father! - -Yes, it was indeed Bhola Náth who had arrived at Banda by that -evening's train, and had come in time to see his mother and son, in -bitter woe, paying the last honours to the corpse of one in no way -related to them, whilst he whom they mourned as dead stood in life and -vigour beside them. Sibbi rushed forward with extended arms, shrieking -forth, "My son! My son!" - -The sudden appearance of Bhola Náth beside what all supposed to be his -funeral pile, roused the superstitious fears of some ignorant peasants. -They believed him to be no man but an evil spirit. Some actually caught -up stones, and Bhola Náth was in danger of being mercilessly pelted by -his neighbours, but Sibbi threw her arms around her new-found son. - -"He is no ghost!" she cried. "Behold his feet are not turned backwards! -His voice is the voice of a living man! It is he whom I nursed as a -babe in my arms! It is indeed my son, the light of mine eyes! Now shall -I die happy!" * - - * This strange kind of reception of Bhola Náth by his neighbours was -suggested to me by my accomplished native critic, who knew what, -under such circumstances, would probably occur. To have "feet turned -backwards," and "to speak through the nose," are supposed by the Hindus -to be the characteristics of ghosts! - -It was some time before Bhola Náth was left alone with his mother and -son. There was too much to say, too much to think of, for any of the -three to retire to rest. Day broke as they still sat together outside -their little hut. Sibbi and Matrá looked very happy; their minds were -too full of the unexpected joy of Bhola Náth's return, to have at that -time any room for care or regret. But it was otherwise with Bhola Náth -himself. He looked thoughtful and grave. - -"Perhaps my father is thinking of the wife and parent whom he misses -from our home," reflected Matrá; "those whose faces he never more can -behold." - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -AT last, after a pause of silence, Bhola Náth thus spake:—"O mother and -son! Two things are on my mind; of two things I have to tell you; one -will cause you joy, the other will cause you grief. Of which shall I -speak first?" - -Then replied Matrá, "Father, this is a time of rejoicing, because we -behold you again. Let your words, then, be of joy." - -"Thou knowest, my son, that the debt which has pressed on thee has -lain also as a weight on my heart. When, on leaving the service, I -found myself entitled to a pension, I reasoned thus in my mind—'I am -still a strong man; I can earn my living; what need is there to me of -a pension? If I could change it for a sum large enough to pay off our -debt at once, then would we be as free men, the mortgage would be off -our land, and no money-lender could devour its produce year by year." - -Sibbi and Matrá listened with intense interest. - -"After turning over this matter much in my mind, I resolved to ask the -advice of my colonel, and find from him if such a thing could be. The -Colonel Bahadar * had shown me much favour since I had had the good -fortune to save him from an enemy's sword. I went to his quarters, and -made my salám, and told him of all our trouble." - - * A title of respect. - -"What said the Sahib Bahadar?" asked Matrá. - -"He muttered to himself, 'Debt, debt; it is always the same story. Debt -is the cancer that eats into the very life of this people.' Then said -the sahib to me, 'How much does your family owe?' - -"I replied, 'O my lord! The debt altogether is 500 rupees. It has been -paid over and over again, but we could never clear off all at once; and -where interest is fifty per cent.—' - -"'Fifty per cent.!' exclaimed the sahib, looking more angry than I had -ever seen him look before. 'This India is full of rogues, and their -senseless victims, the zamindars!' - -"So he strode several times up and down the room, as is the colonel's -way when he is thinking. Then, after a while, he stopped straight -before me. - -"'Bhola Náth,' said he, 'you are a brave fellow and an honest man, and -have done me a great service. I am loth that you should be all your -life like a man with a halter round his neck. I will myself pay off -your debt at once, but upon one condition.'" - -Sibbi uttered a cry of delight, and Matrá eagerly said, "What was that -one condition?" He feared that some very difficult thing, some lifelong -task would be named. - -"The one condition was, that neither I nor my son should ever go to a -money-lender again." - -"I would as lief go into the den of a hungry tiger!" exclaimed Matrá -with vehemence. "Never, never again will I plunge into the bog of debt!" - -The news just given by Bhola Náth caused great delight to his hearers. -Matrá, remembered the words of Karim, which had seemed to him at the -time like a mocking of his hopeless trouble—"How would you feel if you -knew that your debt would be cleared off at once, and you be restored -to your father, with peace and plenty before you?" - -"And now perhaps it is better that I should tell you at once of what -you will deem my evil tidings," said Bhola Náth. - -"There can be no evil tidings for us now!" exclaimed the rejoicing -Matrá. - -"You are just reunited to a long-lost father. Would it be no sorrow to -you to be separated from him again, and perhaps for ever?" - -"Nothing shall separate us!" exclaimed Matrá. - -"Nothing—but death," murmured old Sibbi. - -"What if all the world should despise me, and abuse me, and cast me -off?" - -"Father! I would stand by you against all the world!" exclaimed the -young zamindar. - -"Then hear the truth at once," said Bhola Náth. "After three years -of thinking, reading, praying, I have resolved to be baptised as a -Christian!" - -He looked as a brave man might do tied to a gun, when the match is -brought to blow him to pieces. But there was not the loud explosion of -grief and anger which he expected. Matrá looked on his father in mute -surprise. - -Sibbi muttered to herself, "Then I can keep my vow." - -"What vow? What do you mean?" asked her son. - -"When I prayed to the Christian's God to bring you back, I vowed -that if He heard me, I would—" she dropped her voice to a faint -whisper—"that I would throw our idol into the river!" - -"Well done, brave mother!" exclaimed Bhola Náth, with an unutterable -sense of relief, for he had dreaded more than anything else the grief -and opposition of his parent. "And you, my son," he continued, turning -towards Matrá, "will you despise me for changing a false religion for -the only true one?" - -"Father," replied the young zamindar, "I as yet know nothing of the -Christian religion but a little which I have heard from a man at the -station, who was a Mahomedan once. But you will teach me more. If I -once saw my way to getting clear of the debt of sin as we are getting -clear of the mortgage, let the Brahmins say what they may, I will never -again worship any god but the God who has redeemed me from evil." - -WE will not follow closely the events of the following days, weeks, and -months. Bhola Náth sought out the native pastor of Banda, and had many -interviews with him, as well as with his son's Christian friend, Karim. -It was principally from the latter that Matrá received instruction, and -from reading the New Testament with his father, when the work was done. - -When it became known in the village that the sepoy had come back -with new strange notions, that he no longer did pujá to the gods, -nor feasted Brahmins, nor shouted "Rám! Rám!" bitter opposition was -raised against him. Matrá and Sibbi came in for their full share of -persecution. Their neighbours would not eat nor barter with them; the -family were driven from the well; they were even pelted and beaten. - -But blows and insults were not arguments, and the more Matrá -contrasted the spirit of Hinduism with that of Christianity, the more -he felt convinced that Karim and his father had found the true way -of salvation. After the lapse of some months, the whole family—aged -grandmother, brave father, and stalwart son—were baptised in a tank. -Crowds of Hindus assembled to witness the baptism; some mocked, some -abused the new converts, but in the hearts of many arose the thought, -"Perhaps these honest Hindus have some good reason for changing their -religion. Perhaps there is some truth in the Bible." - -The family of Matrá were not long to be the only Christians in their -village. As one torch lights another, so by their means gradually -spread the knowledge of the Gospel. - -Sibbi did not long survive her baptism. Receiving the Gospel simply, -as a little child might do, she dropped peacefully asleep as her Missy -Baba had done, feeling that she had a Heavenly Father, and that she was -going to Him. The aged woman's body was not burned, but buried; it was -laid like a seed in the ground, to rise again, even as the seed which -the husbandman lays in the soil. - -Matrá said, what he had never said when standing by a heathen's funeral -pile, "We shall see her again in glory. Thanks to Him who died for -sinners, we shall meet once more, never to be parted, in the presence -of the God who is Love!" - - - - THE VILLAGE AND THE CITY. - - [Illustration] - -ACHHRUMAL, the bunniah, came from Kashi (Benares) to visit his kinsman, -Nand Lál, who dwelt in a little village about twenty kos distant. The -home of Nand Lál was close by a jungle, and in a lonely part of the -country. Achhru had never visited the place before, and, with some -contempt, contrasted the mud-built village with the tall buildings, the -grand pagodas, the wide "ghats" (bathing-places) of his own large and -beautiful city. - -On the first morning after Achhru's arrival, Nand Lál asked him how he -had slept during the night. - -"How could I sleep, O brother!" cried Achhru. "The horrid noises which -I heard so distracted me that I could scarcely close my eyes!" - -"What noises?" inquired his cousin. - -"First there was such a croaking of frogs from yon pond, that one might -have thought that all the frogs in Bengal had come on pilgrimage to -a sacred tank, and were crying 'Rám! Rám!' together. Then, as I was -beginning to drop asleep, wild wailing yells came from the jungle, as -if the place were haunted by demons!" - -"Only the jackals," observed Nand Lál; "we so often hear the noise that -we hardly heed it." - -"That was not all," continued his cousin. "As I lay awake, listening to -the yells of the jackals, I heard another horrible sound, which made my -heart almost stand still. It was between a howl and a laugh!" - -"A hyena has been prowling about," said Nand Lál. "Three kids were -taken by it last week." - -"When that horrible sound ceased," cried Achhru, "and the jackals had -stopped their yelling, I was more troubled than ever, for my ear caught -a sound which was, I am sure, the hissing of a serpent." - -"There are many hereabouts," observed Nand Lál; "our people are often -bitten by snakes when they go out in the jungle." - -"I shall certainly not stay long in this dreadful place," thought the -timid-hearted Achhru. And he suddenly remembered that there was to be -a festival in honour of the goddess Lachmi, in Kashi, which he must -certainly attend. He would therefore go back on that very day to the -city. - -Poor Nand Lál looked mortified and disappointed. "Why, brother!" he -cried. "Thou hast had no time to take rest. Thou hast scarcely partaken -of food in my house. After an absence of years, I had looked for a long -visit, I had hoped that we should have passed weeks together!" - -"We shall pass weeks, and months, too, if you will," cried Achhru, "but -not in this noisy village. Come back with me to Kashi. You have never -yet seen the holy city, or visited its thousands of shrines. Come and -bathe in the sacred Ganges, and delight thy soul with such sights as -have never met thine eyes before." - -Nand Lál did not need much pressing, for he had often felt curiosity to -visit Kashi, and bathe in the Ganges. His preparations were few, and -speedily made. Nand Lál fastened up his cooking vessels in a little -bundle, wrapped his blanket about him, put some "annas" into his -hamarband, and told his wife to expect him back in a fortnight. Then he -departed with his cousin. - -Before the fortnight was over, however, Nand Lál found his way back -to his secluded village beside the jungle. His wife welcomed him with -gladness, for he was a good and gentle husband, and had never been -known to beat her. Quickly she prepared the evening meal, and brought -the hookah to refresh the weary traveller. - -Neighbours, impelled by curiosity, came to visit Nand Lál; his wife -asked him why he had returned before the appointed time. - -"I could not stand the noises," replied Nand Lál, with a smile; "like -my cousin Achhru, I did not like the croaking of frogs, the yelling of -jackals, the howling of hyenas, the hissing of snakes." - -"Why, surely Kashi is not like our jungle!" cried one of his friends. - -"Not like our jungle, but a thousand times worse!" exclaimed Nand Lál. - -"Explain your meaning," said his friend. - -"O Nattu! The sounds of a large city are worse than any made by wild -beasts," replied Nand Lál. "I have heard murmurs and complaining, the -groanings of the poor, the grumbles of the rich that they are not -richer. The voices of discontent are to me as the croaking of myriads -of frogs." - -"And your jackals, what are they?" asked Nattu, who began to see the -meaning of his companion. - -"I witnessed quarrelling and heard disputes. There were sellers and -buyers in the bazaars abusing each other for a matter of a few pice, -or even cowries, reviling each other's mothers, wives, and daughters, -pouring out curses and threats; and I said to myself, 'The city has its -jackals and hyenas as well as the jungle, to yell over their carrion -prey.'" - -"And your hissing serpents?" asked his friend. "Did you find them too -in the city?" - -"In the city—here—everywhere—for is there a spot in all Hindostan where -the liar is not to be found? Speak not our children lies almost as -soon as they can utter the name of father? But I had deemed that in a -holy city I might find some who would speak the truth. Alas! The very -air seemed filled with the hissing of falsehood. The bunniah lies, the -beggar lies, the courtier lies, and the priest at the shrine tells the -greatest lies of all. My heart grew sad, and I said to myself, 'If -I could but hear of one man who keeps his lips pure from murmuring, -abuse, and lying, I would go a hundred kos to prostrate myself before -him, and put his foot on my head." - -"Was there ever such a man?" said Nattu. - -"Such was my thought," continued Nand Lál. "When passing through the -bazaar one day I saw a crowd gathered together, and went up to the -place in hope of seeing some 'tamasha' (show). In the midst of that -crowd stood an earnest-looking man, with a book in his hand, who was -addressing the people. I stood with the rest to listen, and I heard the -preacher tell of One who 'did no sin, neither was guile found in His -mouth, who when He was reviled, reviled not again, when He suffered, -He threatened not' (1 Pet. ii. 22, 23). I exclaimed to myself, 'Here -must have been a perfect man He who thus governed His lips, He who was -free from all guile, must have been a saint indeed! Such a one would I -choose for my Goru!'" - -"But perhaps the preacher was himself telling lies when he described -such a Goru," observed one of the peasants. - -"He spoke as one who believes what he teaches," was the reply of -Nand Lál, "and I had occasion to see that, in one thing at least, -he followed the example of his Master. Some of the crowd abused the -preacher; some even pelted him with dust; but he spake not an angry -word. Then I said to myself, 'As is Goru, so is disciple.' Since he is -like the Holy One whom he preaches, in having on his tongue the law of -kindness, so also he must surely be like Him in having lips free from -guile." - -"Perhaps the man was a 'Karáni'" (Christian), observed Nattu. - -"He certainly is a follower of Him whom he called the Lord Jesus -Christ," said Nand Lál. "He spake so much of his Master's purity, -goodness, and gentleness, that my heart was melted within me. I desired -to hear some of the gracious words which, as the preacher said, came -from the Holy One's lips. I had my desire gratified. The man with -the book, looking earnestly round at the crowd, repeated to them the -invitation given, as he said, by his Master,—'Come to me, all ye -that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest' (Matt. xi. -28). O brothers! These words were to me as the note of the 'bul-bul' -(nightingale) after the howling and cries and wild yells of the jungle! -Discord seemed changed to music, tumult to peace. I listened as if I -could listen for ever!" - -"I would that I too had heard the preacher," said Nattu. - -"Close to him was a lad selling books," continued Nand Lál. "After the -preacher had finished his discourse, he advised the hearers to buy the -Holy Gospels, which would tell them about the Heavenly Goru. The books -cost but an 'anna' each [less than 1 ½ d.]. Even I was able to buy one, -and I have it here in my bosom." - -"Thou art something of a scholar, Nattu; thou wilt read it to us after -the day's work is done," said one of his companions. - -And so the first ray of light fell on the little mud-built village -beside the jungle. The Gospel was read and re-read, till the pages -of the little book would hardly hold together. A whole Testament was -afterwards with some difficulty procured, through a peasant going -to Kashi. What had been mocked at in the city was listened to with -gladness by simple zamindars. And one of the first effects of receiving -the Gospel of salvation was to be noticed in the conversation of those -who had learned something of Him who had no guile in His mouth. Still -round the village were the noises which had so disturbed Achhru Mal: -the frogs croaked from the pond, the jackals yelled in the jungle, the -serpents hissed in the long rank grass; but the tongues of peasants, -and even the lips of their children, now spake the truth, and had -learned, as it were, a new song, words of prayer and praise to God, -words of kindness and love to man. - -[Illustration] - - - - THE STRAIT GATE. - - [Illustration] - -MANY hundred years ago, a king built a palace which was a miracle of -beauty. The treasures stored up within were greater than man could -count. The interior of the building was inlaid with jewels, and beside -it the glories of the Taj Mahal would grow pale. The king did not wish -so to shroud himself in his grandeur that his subjects should not have -free access to him. He gave command that a door of his palace should -be left constantly open, so that all, whether rich or poor, might be -able to enter his presence. There was no bell placed on that door, no -bar placed across, and no guard of sepoys denied admittance: a single -porter waited within. But the door was exceedingly small, its height -was as that of a child but seven years old. - -But to that door came a noble of high rank, who proudly traced back his -lineage to kings of old. He came mounted on an elephant in a howdah of -carved sandal-wood, and the gilded trappings of the elephant glittered -in the sunshine. - -[Illustration: "I will not descend from my elephant, and put myself on -a level with the low and the mean!" cried the noble.] - -"How shall I enter the king's palace?" he said to one of his -attendants. From his lofty height he had not even noticed the little -door. - -Then answered the porter from within, "This is the way, O descendant of -monarchs! Your honour must descend from your howdah, and even, as doth -the son of the humblest peasant, enter in by this door." - -"I will not descend from my elephant, and put myself on a level with -the low and the mean!" cried the noble. "There should be a loftier, -more worthy door for those in whose veins runs the blood of princes!" - -So, full of the pride of rank, he departed, never to enter the palace, -or behold the glories within. - -Then came a man bearing a large bundle of valuable goods, through which -he hoped to become the most wealthy man in the city. He was so fearful -of losing his treasure that he would entrust it to no one, lest some -precious thing should be lost. But he desired to see the palace, and -prostrate himself before the king. - -Then said the porter within, "Lay down your burden, or give it to -others, and enter in by this door." - -The rich merchant looked at the door, then at the bundle, which he -prized as much as his life. He shook his head, and, proud of his -riches, turned away. He was never to enter the palace, or behold the -glories within. - -Then came a learned pundit, reading in a book as he walked along. -He too intended to enter the presence of the king, and he believed -himself, by reason of his learning, to be entitled to a high place at -court. He was so buried in his book that when he reached the little -door, he did not observe it, nor hear the invitation of the porter -within. - -Full of the pride of talent, he passed on, never to enter the palace, -or to behold the glories within. - -Then came a religious devotee, a very tall man, wrapped in a blanket. -Many had been his austerities, terrible the penances which he had -performed. He was believed to be a great saint; the people sought his -blessing and dreaded his curse. He looked upon himself as the chosen of -Heaven. The tall devotee walked up to the door and then paused. Said -he, "How can I possibly pass through so low an entrance as this?" - -"Thou who carriest thy head so high must stoop low," cried the porter -within. - -"What! I—deeply read in the mysteries of religion, I whose life is -spent in holy meditation, bow down my head so low as to be of but the -stature of a child! Let the wide doors of ivory be thrown open for me, -or I care not to cross the threshold." - -So, full of the pride of self-righteousness, the devotee passed on. He -was never to enter the palace, or behold the glories within. - -Then came a youth mounted on a white horse, and wearing a mantle stiff -with gold. When he rode up to the door, he somewhat marvelled to see -it so low, but he dismounted and approached it. The youth was as tall -as the devotee, and though he stooped low and lower, he but struck his -head in the attempt to pass through. - -"The rich mantle hampers your movements," said the porter inside. - -It had indeed caught on a nail, and was so thoroughly entangled that no -efforts of the youth could release it. - -He now hesitated, but only for a moment. Undoing the clasp which -fastened the mantle round his neck, he left it behind, then falling on -his knees, and so humbling himself to the stature of a child, in the -attitude of a suppliant the youth entered the palace, and beheld the -glories within. - -The palace, O reader! is the religion taught by the Lord Jesus Christ. -To the true believers who enter in, it presents treasures of grace, of -joy, of glory, such as no pen can write, or tongue can speak, or mind -conceive. - -What are some of its treasures? - -Free forgiveness of every sin, full acceptance with God, purity of -life, gladness of heart, comfort in this world, and eternal joy -hereafter. - -But he who would enter must lay aside "pride," whether of birth, -wealth, or talent. Above all, he must lay aside the pride of -self-righteousness. The first step towards heaven is the knowledge of -sinfulness. We must go down on our knees and pray,— - - "God be merciful to me a sinner! Create in me a pure heart, O God! and -renew a right spirit within me!" - -The Christian religion exalts God and humbles man. The Mahomedan trusts -to enter paradise by the favour of his Prophet, and his own good works. -He says, "Have I not observed the fasts, and prayed five times a day?" - -The Hindu religion fosters pride in the Brahmin, and makes the favour -of the gods an accident of birth. In his view, how can the Sudra or the -Chumar enter like him the state of absorption which he tries to regard -as bliss? - -The Christian exalts God, for it shows Him to be perfectly holy, -merciful, and just. And while God is exalted, the pride of man is -humbled. - -Is he puffed up because of lofty birth? Thus saith the Scriptures, -"Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return" (Gen. iii. 19). - -Is he proud of his wealth? "We brought nothing into the world, and -certainly we shall carry nothing out" (1 Tim. vi. 7). - -Is he vain of his learning? "The wisdom of man is foolishness with God" -(1 Cor. iii. 19). - -Is he proud of his holiness and his good works? "The heart is deceitful -above all things, and desperately wicked" (Jer. xvii. 9). "By the works -of the law shall no man living be justified" (Gal. ii. 16). - -If a man be saved from the just punishment of his sin, it is because -our Substitute, Christ, hath borne that punishment on the cross. If a -man be accounted righteous, it is because the Holy One hath clothed him -in the robe of His own merits. If a man be admitted into heaven, it is -because the Son of God hath purchased admittance for him by shedding -His own precious blood. If a man be called to wear a crown of glory, it -is because his Saviour wore a crown of thorns. Everything that is good -in a Christian comes from the gift of God's Holy Spirit; his only plea -for mercy is the spotless sacrifice—Christ; his only hope of acceptance -with a holy God is that the Saviour died for sinners! - -Therefore, O proud man! descend from thy height, and humble thyself in -the dust. It is on thy knees, stooping to be as a little child, that -thou mayst enter the spiritual palace, and behold the glories within. -"Pride goeth before destruction, and a lofty spirit before a fall." -"Before destruction the heart of man is haughty, and before honour is -humility" (Prov. xviii. 12). - -[Illustration] - - - - AN HOUR OF PERIL. - - [Illustration] - -FAZL DE, a merchant, was travelling towards the city of Delhi with -camels and asses laden with various goods. After the day's stage was -over, his attendants pitched his tent under a clump of mango trees, -and unlading his beasts of burden, suffered them to graze. The place -was not far from a village. The hour was sunset. Many of the peasants -returning from field-work drew near; to them the merchant spoke with -kindness. Then, opening one of his bales, Fazl De disposed amongst -them, at cheap rates, of such of his goods as suited the needs of -peasants. - -More and more people now gathered around, pleased both with the -traveller's goods and with his gracious speech. After a while, when -business was over, seated outside his tent with a circle of listeners -around him, the merchant thus addressed them:— - -"I bring you, O my friends! something better than anything contained in -my bales; and that, which is most valuable, you may have without money -and without price. That I may better explain to you my meaning, I will -tell you of an adventure which happened to myself some three years ago." - -The crowd listened in perfect silence. - -"I had business that took me from Jhelum to Pind Dadar Khán. I had no -goods with me then, but I travelled alone and on horseback. I came to a -village, where I stayed for more than an hour. I expressed my intention -of going on as soon as my horse should have rested a little, for my -business required urgent haste. - -"Then said the villagers, 'The road is not safe for your honour. Rain -has been falling for three days, and the way is now over an almost -impassable bog.' - -"I was not a man to be easily daunted, and I replied, 'I know that many -persons travel by this road.' - -"'It is perfectly safe in dry weather,' said the peasants; 'but now, -even with a guide, it is not safe to cross the morass.' - -"I thought this a cunning attempt to make me stop longer at the serai -(inn). I determined to press on. I, however, took the precaution of -engaging a guide. Then again I mounted my horse and rode on. - -"I proceeded on my way, deep in thought, for many things pressed on -my mind at that time. I was a seeker after truth. I had heard much -of the Gospel, and I admired greatly the purity of its teaching. But -one doctrine in it offended the pride of my heart—the doctrine that -man cannot be saved by any good works, by alms-giving, fasting, or -pilgrimages; that he can only be saved by faith in Jesus Christ, a -crucified Saviour. I was a man bearing a good character, and I thought -that by strenuous efforts I could certainly reach heaven at last. -Turning these things over in my mind, I rode to the edge of the bog, -and then looked round for my guide. The cowardly fellow had failed me; -he was nowhere to be seen. - -"'It matters not,' I said to myself, 'my horse is a good one, and -neither he nor his rider mind floundering through a little soft mud. I -shall soon reach firm ground on the farther side.' - -"Now mark me, my friends," continued the merchant, "I have always -looked on that day's adventure as a kind of parable of my own state. I -trusted my body's safety to my good horse, just as I trusted my soul's -safety to my good works, and in both cases I played the part of a -fool. I rode on some way with difficulty indeed, but no great danger. -At last, I found that at every step my horse's feet sank up to the -fetlocks, to go even a few yards cost him such exertion that he was -soon as thoroughly wet as if he had been hunting all day. But I was -too proud to go back. I spurred and whipped my poor horse, and tried -to encourage him by my voice. 'I will soon reach the farther side,' -thought I; 'I see good firm ground before me.' - -"But that good firm ground I was never to reach by any efforts of my -horse, though desperate were the efforts which he made. I felt him -sinking deeper and deeper under me, till he could no longer get on; his -ears were turned back with terror, he sank to his knees, then down, -down to the girths of the saddle! - -"'His weight and mine are sinking him!' thought I. 'My only chance is -to abandon the poor brute to his fate. I am comparatively light, and -am not clogged with mud as he is. By going with springing step, I may -manage to reach firm ground.' - -"But, O my friends! I felt mine to be but a desperate chance. I would -have given all that I possessed to have been fairly out of that -terrible bog. - -"What gave me some hope, however, was to see a mounted camel before me -at a place where the bog evidently ended, for the ground was a little -raised, and there were some bushes upon it. I called out loudly to the -man on the camel, and he halloed back to me. I knew, however, that no -man would ride a heavy camel into the bog. The man would only be a -witness of my terrible end. - -"For I felt that the end was at hand. I was no more able to reach -safety without my horse, than I had been when in the saddle. In vain I -tried to lift my legs, it seemed as if some cruel enemy from beneath -were pulling me down! Then I thought of my sins as I had never thought -before. Then I dreaded to meet an angry God. Then the terrors of -judgment rose up before me. My good works were as the poor perishing -brute behind me. I longed, oh! How I longed for a Saviour then! - -"In my perplexity, floundering and struggling, I had not marked the -movements of the man in front. Through the merciful providence of God, -the camel had been laden with tent ropes and poles; the former the man -was, as rapidly as he could, unwinding, and preparing to throw out to -me. At last, I perceived his aim; but my impatience grew to agony when -I saw the difficulty which my kind friend experienced in making the -rope reach me. He threw it again and again, but had to draw it back, it -was quite beyond reach of my hand. - -"I had by this time sunk up to my waist! I saw the man look anxiously -around, as if seeking for other means of saving me; at last, he seized -on a long tent-pole. The man then, holding with one hand the end of the -rope, of which he had fastened the other end to the camel, placed the -pole on the bog before him. I was now in the mud up to my arm-pits. Ten -more minutes and I knew that I must be suffocated and perish. I saw -the man step cautiously on the tent-pole, but could it, even for a few -minutes, support his weight? My senses became confused with terror, I -hardly knew what was passing before my eyes till I heard a loud voice -cry, 'Grasp it, and hold fast!' - -"Then I saw the rope which my preserver, stepping along the slippery -half-sinking pole, had risked his life to throw, I saw it just within -reach of my hand! I grasped it, poor perishing wretch that I was, how -tightly I grasped it! It was my one hope for life. It was hard to hold -on—the strain of my weight, all mud-clogged as I was, was so great! -Still I never for an instant let go, till the camel, impelled by his -master, drew me out of the bog!" - -"That moment was doubtless the happiest of your honour's life, when -you stood again on firm ground," observed one of the peasants, who had -listened with interest to the story. - -"No, I had a happier moment still," observed the merchant, "and that -was when I found firm ground for my soul to rest on. I told you that -my adventure is to me as a parable, now I will unfold to you the -lesson which it taught me. The bog is like the everlasting punishment -inflicted by a just God for sin. I thought that, mounted, as it were, -on my good works, I had nothing to fear from it. I nearly lost my soul -through my error. The rope thrown to me is the emblem of salvation -freely offered to all who will 'grasp it and hold fast.'" - -"Who throws the rope?" asked one of the hearers. - -"The Lord Jesus Christ," was the reply; "He who watched from heaven -the vain struggles of poor sinners, even as my preserver mine from the -farther side of the swamp. Christ descended from heaven to earth and -assumed the form and nature of man that He might deliver sinners from -the endless pangs of hell. He gave His life a ransom for many, and by -His perfect obedience, even unto death, He saved believers from the -just punishment of their disobedience to the law of a holy God." - -These were new words to the peasants, who wondered at the, to them, -strange doctrine taught by the merchant. - -"Notice, my friends, that I had nothing to do with procuring the rope, -nothing to do with throwing the rope; all that I could do was to grasp -it and hold it fast. And so when I found that without any desert of my -own, free salvation was offered to me by another, I accepted that free -offer of mercy, I grasped and held fast the blessed hope of eternal -life given to us in the Saviour Jesus Christ. I believed that Christ -could save me, I believed that He was willing to save me. I was, all -clogged with the mire of sin, helpless and perishing, dragged, as it -were, by the cord of love to the firm ground of salvation. And there -I stand now, rejoicing in hope of eternal glory, washed from my sins, -cleansed, and made an heir of the kingdom of heaven. It is that you may -reach this safe ground, it is that you too may receive this blessing, -that we Christians now preach the Gospel amongst you. Being saved -ourselves, we are not willing that others should perish. The rope is -held out to all; it only needs faith in Christ to receive it. To you I -now call in the words of my kind preserver—Grasp it, and hold it fast!" - -[Illustration] - - - - THE GENEROUS BENEFACTOR. - - [Illustration] - -THE beautiful young Gangi went to gather flowers for the shrine of -the goddess Durga. Gangi was not a widow, and yet she dressed in the -garb of a widow. There were no bracelets on her arms, no ornament on -her slender ankles. Her unbraided hair fell on her shoulders, and her -form drooped like a creeper that is torn from the stem around which -it had twined. Gangi's young husband had become a Christian; he had -broken caste, and henceforth was to all whom he loved as one dead and -forgotten, or remembered only to be cursed. - -But Gangi could neither curse nor forget, though she feared that her -husband had done some very horrible thing. She could hardly believe -that her kind, gentle Charu Dás was wicked, but she knew that she -herself was wretched. Gangi dared not speak of Charu Dás, though he -was constantly in her thoughts. Oh! Could she but win him back by -austerities! Gladly would she have wasted away her flesh by fasting, or -have walked, with bare and bleeding feet, all the way to Kashi. Gangi -was possessed with the same spirit of loving devotion which, in former -days, made the Satí burn herself on the funeral pyre of her husband. - -Gangi was bending over a tank to gather some beautiful lotus blossoms, -when she started, as if she had seen a snake in the water below. It was -the reflection of some one standing behind her, one whom she knew well, -but from whom she had deemed herself parted for ever. With a faint cry, -Gangi started from her stooping position, and fled a few steps; then -she paused, for a familiar voice entreated her to stop, a voice which -she had never yet disobeyed. - -"I am an outcast from all my family; dost thou desert me also, O Gangi! -Light of my soul?" said the husband of the youthful Hindu. - -Gangi stood trembling, and the tears fell fast from her eyes. - -"I am not changed towards thee, O Gangi! Is not my form the same, my -voice the same, the love in my heart the same? Yea, greater than ever! -We were so happy together!" - -"And cannot we be happy again?" exclaimed Gangi suddenly, as a hope -flashed across her soul. "The Brahmins may be won * to receive you back -by large offerings, and great penances. I will give everything that I -possess; oh! would that I had more to give! Your father, brothers, will -strip themselves of their property—" - - * This receiving back is not so difficult a matter to accomplish as -it was formerly. As more converts from Hinduism are drawn into the -Christian fold, the Brahmins are opening their eyes to the fact that -it is more for their own interests to tempt them back, than to bar and -bolt the door against them. - -"Never, never will I cease to be a Christian!" said Charu Dás firmly. - -The sudden blaze of hope in the heart of Gangi as suddenly died out, -like the fire which consumes a light muslin veil. With bitterness, she -said, "I do not know what is meant by being a Christian, but I have -heard that my lord has broken caste, thrown away his janeo, no more -does pujá to our gods, and eats with those of low caste, or Christians, -who have no caste at all." - -"Didst thou also hear why I broke caste?" asked her husband. - -"I have not heard much, save that my lord was beguiled—led astray by -the juggling arts * of the wicked Christians," said Gangi sadly. - - * The natives are ready to imagine that missionaries practise some kind -of enchantment. At Batála it has been said that the Rev. F. B— puts his -hand on the head of a Hindu, in consequence of which charm the man on -returning towards the city, "beholds it in flames," and dares not go on! - -"Hear, then, my story, beloved one, and judge for thyself whether in -breaking caste I committed a sin so great as to deserve the hatred of -my family and wife." - -Gangi listened, leaning against the trunk of a tree, at a little -distance from her husband. - -"I went to Agra, as thou knowest, and was detained there for a long -time on business. Whilst there, O Gangi! I found myself in a terrible -position. Thy husband was a criminal, and under sentence of death." - -Gangi started in horror. "Under sentence of death!" she exclaimed. -"Then he was falsely accused, cruelly condemned." - -"Not falsely accused,—but justly condemned," replied Charu Dás. "I -could plead nothing in my own defence; I knew myself to have deserved -any punishment that might be inflicted." - -"But how is my lord free now?" asked Gangi, drawing a step nearer in -her eagerness to hear the reply. - -"I had a Friend, not a Brahmin, not one of my race, but One of high -rank and the most exalted character," replied Charu Dás. "This man -loved me with a love as great, yea, even greater than mine for thee, O -wife of my youth! When all other hope failed me, He gave the greatest -proof of love that a friend could give—He offered to die in my stead!" - -Gangi clasped her hands and drew nearer still, for her whole soul was -absorbed in listening. - -"And my Friend 'did die,'" continued Charu Dás, dropping his voice -almost to a whisper. "For me the guilty one, He, the innocent, died; it -is through His mortal agony that I now am free." - -"Oh! What love," faltered Gangi. - -"Before undergoing a shameful and most painful death, my deliverer made -a dying request that I would come, and in His company, share a meal -with His chosen companions. Gangi, I could not do so without breaking -my caste; I could not do so without forfeiting my privileges as a -Brahmin. What choice should I make? I hesitated long. If I consented, I -should become an outcast; if I refused my Benefactor's dying request, -should I not be the most ungrateful of men?" - -Gangi bowed her head in silence. - -"Now tell me, joy of my soul, hadst thou been in my place, wouldst thou -have turned a deaf ear to a dying Saviour, or wouldst thou have broken -thy caste?" - -Gangi was now so near to her husband that he could catch the faintly -whispered words, "I think—I believe, that I should have broken my -caste." - -"Then, O Gangi! How canst thou condemn me?" exclaimed Charu Dás. - -"But what sin had my lord committed that he should be counted worthy -of death?" asked Gangi, to whom the first part of her husband's story -appeared hardly credible. - -"Not one sin only, but a thousand," was Charu Dás's reply. "O Gangi! -Every man and woman in this world has broken again and again the -commands of a holy God, and is by His law justly sentenced to eternal -death. How can a sinner be justified before his Maker? We Hindus -pictured our deities themselves full of every vice, and therefore -we regarded not vice with horror; but the true religion reveals to -us a Being whose very nature is perfection. How dare the polluted -sinner approach Him! Man could find no way, though he sought it by -pilgrimages, penances, prayers. - -"God Himself found a way. He sent His beloved Son to earth, and His Son -was willing to leave heaven to save us. This Friend, whose love exceeds -that of a brother, became incarnate, assumed a mortal body, that He -might offer up that pure body as a sacrifice for our sin. O Gangi! The -Lord Jesus Christ offered Himself to stand in our place. He underwent -the punishment which we had deserved. He humbled Himself unto death, a -painful shameful death, that we might receive eternal life. - -"And, O Gangi! What a gift was that which Christ purchased for us! -The highest bliss which we aim at is absorption into deity, which -leaves the soul no separate existence; it is a bliss which resembles -annihilation. The Christian's heaven is a place of pure unmixed -delight, where the redeemed of the Lord meet around Him as one large -family, shining in His light, rejoicing in His love, washed in His -blood from every stain. - -"Gangi! When I believed that God's Son had died for me, when I received -from Him the gift of pardon and peace, and the hope of eternal life, -what could I do but give myself up, body and soul, to Him who loved and -gave Himself for me?" - -"Hark!" exclaimed Gangi suddenly. "I hear the sound of steps! Fly, fly! -If my kindred find you here, they may kill you." - -Before the sentence was completed, Charu Dás had disappeared in the -jungle. - -But the deep impression made by his words remained in the mind of his -youthful wife. Gangi said little, but she thought much. She ceased to -weep for her lost husband—her relatives thought that she was learning -to forget—but silently and secretly a resolve was gaining strength in -her mind, which was soon to bear fruit in action. - -Charu Dás, according to the law, appealed to the magistrate for -permission to have an interview with his wife before they should be -separated for ever. The young Hindu, under Government protection, would -be allowed to make her final choice as to whether she would remain -amongst her own people, or break caste and cut herself off from them by -following her husband. It was a time to Charu Dás of terrible anxiety, -but he tried to cast his burden of care upon God, and trust to Him to -incline the heart of Gangi towards the husband whom she had certainly -at one time loved. - -The Hindus felt little uneasiness as to the result of the meeting. -Gangi was a Brahminee, brought up from infancy amidst those who -professed her religion, and they believed that she would as soon be -trampled under foot by elephants, as break caste and become an outcast. -But they knew not the strength of a woman's love, nor were they aware -that a gleam of heavenly light had fallen on the soul of Gangi. Closely -shrouded, the young wife went to what all her relatives believed to be -her last meeting with the despised Christian. In shrinking modesty she -stood before the magistrate. Gangi dared not raise her eyes to meet the -anxious gaze of Charu Dás. - -The grave magistrate then gave her her choice, that choice which would -affect the whole of her future life. - -To the surprise of all present, except one, Gangi, with trembling -voice, said she would go with her husband. - -The anger of her relatives was great; threats and entreaties were -alike used to move her from her purpose, but Gangi, though trembling -and weeping, kept firm. But for the presence of the magistrate, the -poor young girl would have been dragged away by violence, and never -suffered to see again him whom she loved best upon earth. But force was -forbidden by the law. The Hindu wife must be allowed a free choice. In -the midst of uproar, but full of thankfulness and joy, the convert bore -away his rescued treasure. - -The rest of the story is soon told. The young Brahminee learned ere -long to believe what Charu Dás believed, and to serve the God whom he -served. When once reproached by a former companion for her change of -religion, Gangi meekly replied, "How can we refuse to give our lives to -the generous Benefactor who gave His for us? I have learned to say from -my heart, 'We love Him, because He first loved us'" (1 John iv. 19). - -[Illustration] - - - - THE DESECRATED TEMPLE. - - [Illustration] - -MANY hundred years ago, a beautiful temple was built, of pure white -marble, for the worship of the great God, the Creator of all. On the -walls of the building were inscribed, in letters formed of diamonds, -emeralds, and rubies, the words HOLINESS, HAPPINESS, PEACE. As guardian -of the temple, a strong watchman was placed, whose name was Conscience. -He was to keep the holy place clean, and take care that nothing -defiling should enter. - -For awhile all was well, until an enemy, full of the greed of spoil, -determined to possess himself of the jewels in the white marble temple. -He had no power to do so by force. The door was strong, the watchman -who kept the keys was always at his post, and he had a bell by which -he could bring powerful help whenever needed. The enemy saw no means -of accomplishing his purpose but by deceiving or bribing the watchman. -Night, also, was the only time when he could do so unobserved by the -rest of the world. - -One dark and windy night the enemy came and knocked at the door of the -temple. - -"Who art thou?" cried the watcher within, without opening the -strongly-barred door. - -"I am a pilgrim who has come from a great distance, and with very large -offerings," replied the deceiver. "I know no one in the neighbourhood, -the night is stormy, and I fear to remain without, lest I should be -robbed of my treasures. Only see what I have brought with me." - -"It is against rules to admit any one at night," said the porter. - -"But every rule has exceptions. Mine is a peculiar case. I have brought -gifts, also, for you," said the robber. - -The watchman, in his folly, believed the word of the stranger; -curiosity and covetousness overpowered his caution. In an evil hour, he -unbarred the strong door, and let the enemy in. - -The deceiver entered, bringing with him what he called his treasures, -which were carefully enclosed in many wrappings, and secured by seals. -Entrance had thus been effected, but as long as Conscience remained -awake, the enemy could do but little. The bell might at any moment be -rung, he be overpowered, and thrust out, or handed over to justice. The -robber was indeed within the walls, but his every movement was watched -by one stronger than he. - -Deferring opening out his pretended treasures till the morning, -the intruder produced from his wallet some fruit, cakes, and -delicious-looking sweetmeats, and prepared to refresh himself after his -long journey by a meal, of which he asked the watchman to partake. - -"It is against rules to eat in the temple," said the watchman; "go -outside and eat your meal in peace." - -The deceiver pleaded the roughness of the night, and the length of -his journey. "There can be no harm," said he, "in breaking a rule for -once, and no one will know that you have done so." He spread out the -tempting food on the floor, and used such artful persuasion, that the -watchman not only permitted him to sit down and eat, but after awhile -was induced to sit down also and partake of a few sweetmeats which wore -of a most tempting appearance. - -The sweetmeats were drugged, and in the midst of his forbidden meal, -the faithless guardian of the temple fell into a deep sleep. - -Then, indeed, the enemy had it all his own way. Quickly unwrapping -what he had called his treasures, he produced instruments suited to -accomplish his wicked designs. With dexterity the robber extracted -the jewels from the walls. It was a work of time, for they had been -well and firmly set. But first the word HOLINESS was effaced, then -HAPPINESS, and then PEACE. Only a rude broken outline was left to show -where they once had been. Hours and hours went by, and all this time -the watchman slept. - -The enemy's object was not only to despoil, but to defile the once -beautiful temple. There were a number of little idols with him, and -these he placed in niches in every direction. There was one called -Falsehood, an idol representing a woman, with snakes instead of hair -curling around her brow; there was Covetousness, with many hands; -Cruelty, with a necklace of skulls; Impurity, with an animal's head. -What was beautiful had been destroyed, what was hideous was put in its -place; the once pure white temple was pure no longer, and still the -guardian slept! - -How long he might have slept none can tell, had not what may be called -a trifling incident occurred. Just when the work of destruction was -almost completed, and the first gleam of dawn appeared in the sky, a -little bird flew through a small opening in the temple, and struck the -sleeper with its wing as it passed. - -Startled, Conscience awoke, but, dizzy from the effects of the drug, -was at first hardly able to understand what had happened. The lamps in -the temple were still burning, and the faint light of morn was stealing -in. Conscience looked round and perceived hideous idols in the niches. -He saw that the jewels had been torn from their places, and beheld the -enemy going on with his work of destruction,—soiling, marring, defiling -the temple raised to the One pure God. Conscience, through the effects -of the drug, had lost power to overcome the enemy. His strength had -become as weakness, but he was still able to pull the rope which was -attached to the bell. - -[Illustration: "With all his might he pulled it, startling the enemy by -the sudden clang above his head."] - -With all his might he pulled it, startling the enemy by the sudden -clang above his head. Knowing that many would rush to the spot on -hearing the sound of the alarm bell, the robber hastily rushed out from -the temple, dropping, in his flight, the jewels which he had plundered. - -Measures were taken as quickly as possible to repair the sore -mischief done. The idols Covetousness, Cruelty, Falsehood were, one -after another, thrown down. The place received a thorough cleansing. -Gradually, though not without much difficulty, the jewels were put back -in their places, and HOLINESS, HAPPINESS, and PEACE again glittered on -the wall. But it was long ere Conscience recovered his health, or the -confidence of his superior, and never without shame and grief could he -remember the night when he threw open the door to a traitor, and let -the spoiler enter and pollute the temple of God. - -Reader! The temple of God is the human heart, first formed by its Maker -pure and clean, with holiness, happiness, and peace within it. How -Satan, the enemy, first gained entrance, how he stained, robbed, and -despoiled it, is written in the Word of God, and alas! its effects are -seen in the world around us. - -And what is meant by the watchman Conscience? - -Conscience is that power to distinguish between good and evil which God -has placed as a guard on the human heart. It is Conscience that tells -us that to kill, to rob, and to lie is sin, and that sin is hateful to -a holy God, and must be punished by Him. - -But the enemy, Satan, has had power to drug Conscience, to put it -to sleep, so that its voice has been silent. Look at Hindostan, and -see how deep has been the slumber of Conscience! Murder is sin of -the blackest dye; yet widows have been burnt alive, innocent babes -killed by their own parents, thugs have strangled travellers, without -Conscience being awakened to cry out, "O wretches! You will be called -to a fearful account for crimes such as these! God's wrath is upon your -heads!" - -Where is Conscience in the heart of the deceit, the midnight thief, -or the bold robber who rejoices over his ill-gotten spoils! Where is -Conscience in the hearts of millions who utter lies as they swallow in -air, quite unconscious that the path of falsehood leads to destruction! -It is asleep, drugged and senseless! Conscience says nothing when man -is robbed of happiness and God is robbed of honour. The once holy -temple of God becomes a harbour for idols, for Covetousness, Hatred, -Pride, and every other sin, and the watchman Conscience is silent and -asleep! - -Asleep, indeed, but not dead. Sometimes what seems an accident may -awaken it from its dangerous repose. Even a little book, such as this, -like the flap from the wing of a bird, may rouse Conscience, and open -the watchman's eyes to the peril of the soul. Ask yourself these -questions, O reader! "Is the temple of my heart clean; are purity, -happiness, and peace within it? Do I abhor all sin, and give to none a -place in my soul? Do I harbour no covetousness, hatred, or pride? Do I -refuse all unlawful gains? Are my lips clean from lying and slandering?" - -If these questions are honestly asked, and a voice within you answers -"No!" that is the voice of awakening Conscience. - -If, then, in anguish of soul you exclaim, "How can I escape from sin, -and the dreadful punishment of sin?" know that the watchman has sprung -to his feet, he is ringing the alarm bell for help. - -God is ready to grant that help, to send His cleansing Spirit into your -heart, to give back to it all that it has lost. The Christian religion -not only tells of Satan's entering the world to despoil the temple -of God, but it tells of the Conqueror of Satan entering the world to -restore what had been polluted and spoiled. The temple may become -fairer than ever before, for the blood of the Lamb of God was shed to -cleanse it from sin. Conscience, made more watchful and faithful, may -once more be trusted to keep guard against the entrance of evil, and -happiness, holiness, and peace be again inscribed in shining letters -within the temple of the heart. - -[Illustration] - - - - THE TWENTY-FOUR PIECES OF SILVER. - - [Illustration] - -A MERCHANT bade his servant Kesho go into the bazaar, and buy such -things as he required. The merchant counted out twenty-four pieces of -silver, and regarding their expenditure, gave the following directions -to Kesho:— - -"Take this money, and with it buy seven pillows, at the cost of one -rupee each. Lay out, at least, eight on working tools, and see that -they be thoroughly good. Thou must also buy food, and various other -things which thou knowest to be required. But first of all, go to the -railway station, where there are three parcels of value waiting to be -called for. Pay what is requisite for them, and bring them to me with -the utmost care. Be diligent and obedient, and show thyself worthy of -trust." - -Kesho salaamed and departed, having wrapped up the twenty-four rupees -in the scarf which he wore round his waist. - -My story, O reader! is a parable. In Kesho we behold an emblem of every -man and woman now in this world. To each is entrusted the treasure of -Time, the twenty-four hours of each day. Seven may be spent on the -pillows of sleep; eight should be given to honest work, whether in the -fields or the bazaar, whether in the school or in the office. They who -have not to earn their own bread must be diligent still. Let them work -freely for the good of others, spending their time in labours for God, -caring for the poor, teaching the ignorant, pleading the cause of the -widow. No one without guilt, and consequent punishment, can waste the -twenty-four hours committed every day to his charge by his Maker. - -And the three precious parcels which are first of all to be redeemed -are—Prayer to God, Praise of the Most High, and Reading of the Holy -Scriptures. These offer to us the noblest employment of time, and bring -the richest profit. - -Now hear what Kesho did with the rupees entrusted to his care. - -Kesho took with him a mule to carry his purchases, and in the evening -again appeared before his master. A very high but not very heavy burden -made the mule's back appear almost as lofty as that of a camel. - -"My lord, I bring the goods on the purchase of which I have expended my -twenty-four rupees," said Kesho to the merchant, after a humble salaam. - -"'Thy' rupees, forsooth!" muttered the merchant, knitting his brow -in displeasure. Then, advancing to examine the mule's burden, he -exclaimed, "O thou most dull of soul! I told thee to expend seven -rupees on seven pillows, and behold thou bast brought to me twelve! -What idle waste of my money. Doubtless thou hast spent on pillows for -sleep five of the silver pieces that were meant for a nobler purpose. -Where are the good working tools which I ordered?" - -Kesho was slowly and lazily unpacking the mule. He now produced, one by -one, put up carelessly between the pillows, the tools which were needed -for work. The merchant examined each closely. - -"These are too few in number, and not thoroughly good of their kind," -he said, angrily laying one down. "Thou hast taken no pains in their -choice, and hast doubtless spent too little upon them. What else hast -thou bought with my money?" - -Kesho produced a supply of food. - -"More silver rupees have been spent on this than was required," -observed the merchant; "your greatest expenditure seems to have been on -eating and sleeping. But I see that thou hast still many things to show -me. What are in those two bags slung across the back of the mule?" - -Kesho did not appear to be in any haste to open them. Looking rather -sullen, he poured out the contents of one upon the ground; it showed a -hookah,* and a heap of worthless rattles. - - * The hookah is the Eastern representative of pipes and cigars. Women -smoke it as well as men. - -"Are you a child or an idiot that you have spent rupees on such trash -as this?" cried the merchant, spurning the rattles with his foot. "I -hope that my three valuable parcels are safe in the other bag. Show me -its contents directly." - -Kesho was more unwilling than before, but he had no option. He first -took out a box, which he held in his hand, and then emptied the bag on -the ground. Out came packs of dirty playing-cards,—mingled with dice! -So many had been bought by the faithless servant with his master's -rupees, that the merchant saw that Kesho must have spent on them at -least half of the money that should have gone for the tools, perhaps a -good deal more than half! - -Exceedingly wrathful was the merchant. The two heaps before him showed -how utterly unworthy was his servant to be entrusted with the money -of time. But even worse was to come. Hoping that his master might not -notice the movement, Kesho was trying to hide the box which he held -behind the pile of cushions. But the merchant's eye was keen, and he -detected the attempt in a moment. - -"Slave! What art thou attempting to conceal?" he exclaimed in a voice -of thunder. "Open that box, and show me upon what worse than trash thou -hast been wasting my money!" - -Most unwillingly, and with a trembling hand, Kesho obeyed. Scarcely had -he raised the cover of the box when a number of hideous black scorpions -were crawling about in every direction. - -The merchant was more wrathful than ever. "Wretch! Worthy of a thousand -stripes!" he exclaimed. "Is that what thou hast to show for my -entrusted money? And where are the three parcels which I charged thee -first of all to redeem?" - -Prostrating himself in the dust, the servant faltered forth, "I forgot -them!" - -"Then thou hast injured thyself only!" said the merchant sternly. -"Those parcels contained gifts for thee which are now lost to thee for -ever!" - -Scarcely had the words fallen on the ear of Kesho, when he sprang up -from his prostrate position screaming with pain, for three of the -scorpions had fastened on his leg! - -Terrible was the effect of the stings of those scorpions, and still -more terrible the scourging inflicted by the merchant upon his -worthless servant. Kesho never forgot either the stings or the dreadful -punishment to the end of his days. - -O reader! Art thou like unto Kesho? Or hast thou learned to make a -better use of the treasure of time? Review the way in which yesterday -was spent; deceive not thyself, for thou canst not deceive Him who -entrusted to thee those twenty-four hours which thou canst never -recall. How many were lost in lazy sloth? How many were given to -unnecessary spinning out the time employed in eating and drinking? How -many were spent in that idle gossip which is worthless as the rattle of -a child? Were any thrown away in those games of chance which have been -the ruin of many? Oh! Search thy heart, and answer the solemn question -truly, have any of thy hours been spent in such deeds of evil as are -more poisonous than scorpions, deeds which thou wouldst gladly hide? -Seriously consider these questions, and let thy conscience give answer. -If it be silent now, at the last Day it will most assuredly speak. - -After reviewing but "one" day of the many of thy life, dost thou not -tremble and cast thyself in the dust, exclaiming to thy great Master, -"'Lord! be merciful to me a sinner.' I have forgotten, or carelessly -performed the duties of Prayer, Praise, and Perusal of Thy Word; I -have indulged in sloth, in idle-speaking, in sinful pleasures, perhaps -in acts of which I should be ashamed. And that not for one day only, -but for weeks—for months—for years! Thousands on thousands of precious -hours have been wasted, squandered, lost for ever!" - -And now, O Reader! How can the past be redeemed? Thou canst not tell -how many hours remain to be spent; make the best use of the one now -before thee. And first, I would earnestly urge upon thee to search the -Scriptures. Reading them carefully, prayerfully, thou wilt find a means -of escaping both from the scourge and the scorpions, the punishment -here and hereafter, which thou hast justly deserved. And there are to -be found directions for redeeming the time in future, for laying out to -the best advantage such hours as may be left to thee yet. We may count -the treasures of time, but the treasures of Eternity cannot be counted. -The one are as silver rupees in the girdle, the others, if blissful, -will be as mountains of gold. On the way in which time is spent here, -eternity will depend. Oh! May God bestow His Spirit upon thee, and make -thee what all of His servants are commanded to be, "not slothful in -business, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord"! (Rom. xii. 11). - -[Illustration] - - - - THE BAD BARGAIN. - - [Illustration] - -TRUTHFULNESS is as the Koh-i-nur, the gem without a flaw, which shines -in the crown of a monarch. If you would know what comes of falsehood, -hear ye the story of Shibbu. - -In the island of Ceylon dwelt Lachman Dás, who, above all other men, -was skilled in the art of making false jewels. He used to provide such -for those men who go to ships arriving from England, to cheat unwary -passengers by selling the false under the name of the true. Those who -knew Lachman Dás best called him by the title of Father "Jhuth Muth" -(Falsehood). - -One of the customers who most often came to the dwelling of Lachman -Dás was a man of the name of Shibbu, who had amassed some hundreds of -rupees by cheating the English by selling false gems. One day he came -to Lachman's house with a look of great eagerness on his face. - -"What hast thou ready, O Father?" he cried. "The smoke of a large -steamer is now to be seen in the sky, passengers will soon be arriving, -and I have not so much as a bit of glass bottle left with which to -tempt them!" - -Lachman Dás did not answer at once; he was putting the last finishing -touch to a beautiful ornament made of false rubies. But presently he -relieved the impatience of Shibbu by drawing forth from a secret place -a basket containing many more, each more splendid-looking than the -other. Shibbu was dazzled by their beauty, and eager to buy. - -"How many are there altogether?" he cried. - -"Twenty-four choice ornaments," replied Lachman Dás, after counting -them slowly. - -"I do not mind taking the whole lot,—four annas * each, six rupees for -them all," said Shibbu, trying to look as if he were indifferent to -gain, and rather bestowing a favour on the maker. - - * An anna is less than three half-pence. - -"Four annas each!" cried Lachman Dás indignantly. "Wert thou born -without eyes! Seest thou not that the worst of these is fit for the -wear of a rajah!" - -"If it were real," said Shibbu. "But come, you are an old friend of -mine, I will give you—say five annas each." - -"I will not let them go for one pie under a rupee each," said Lachman -Dás with decision. - -"A rupee each! Would you ruin a poor man with five children?" cried -Shibbu. "Come, come, I am an old customer, let us say six annas -a-piece." - -"A rupee each, not a pie less. I shall find many who will purchase my -jewels at that rate; go then elsewhere and buy," said the maker of -false gems, beginning to put his gaudy trash back again into the basket. - -"Do not be hard on an old friend. You have made many rupees by me, O -Father!" cried Shibbu, in a pleading tone. - -Lachman Dás considered for several moments; he appeared to be counting -the false emeralds in a ring which he held in his hand. At last, he -said, "I am willing to make a bargain with thee, O Shibbu! Thou shalt -have, if thou wilt, the whole lot on the following terms. For the first -ornament thou shalt give but one pie." * - - * Less than a "mite." A rupee is now worth about 1s. 8d. - -"'One pie!'" exclaimed the delighted Shibbu, scarcely able to believe -his own ears. - -"For the second 'two' pies, for the third 'four,' so to go on doubling -till the whole twenty-four be paid for." - -Shibbu was not clever at counting, but he soon made out that all the -first four ornaments would cost him but a mere trifle. Was ever bargain -so good! Shibbu began to think that the cunning old cheat before him -must have grown crazy from age to sell his jewels for a few pice! He -eagerly closed with the bargain, if Lachman Dás would but wait for -payment until the false jewels should be sold. - -"Enough," said Lachman Dás, with twinkling eyes. "Thou shalt sign an -agreement before witnesses that if thou pay me not, not merely shall -thy property be mine, but thou thyself shalt be my bondsman to the end -of thy days." - -Shibbu, eager to gain more rupees by lying and cheating, willingly put -his mark to the paper which was drawn up for him to sign. He could -hardly bear waiting till the business was over, so much afraid was he -that some other seller of gems should get the start of him, and cheat -the strangers out of their rupees before he had time to display before -them his beautiful but worthless ware. - -But Shibbu had no need for such haste. Not only did he reach the quay -before the passengers landed, but his false gems were so superior to -those of any other seller, that he disposed of the whole twenty-four, -and made three hundred rupees! - -"I never had such a catch in my life!" thought the exulting teller of -lies. "It will break old Lachman's heart when he finds what a wretched -bargain he has made. If he had stuck to his demand for rupees, I should -have given in at last. Now he must content himself with his pice!" And -Shibbu laughed to himself at the mortification of the covetous old man. - -But Shibbu did anything but laugh when standing by the maker of false -jewels, with many witnesses around, he heard the beginning of the -calculation made as to the real amount of his debt. He kept silent at -first, though growing graver and graver, till he found that though -the first jewel cost him but one pie, the twelfth was rated at "ten -rupees," "ten minas," and "eight pies." - -"Stop! Stop!" he cried. "There is some jugglery here. They never can -come to so much!" - -"Go on," said the maker of jewels to the accountant who, pen in hand, -was making up the sum. - -Now poor Shibbu was like a wretch undergoing the torture. As the -doubled price of each ornament was named, he first groaned, then -actually shrieked, as if a twisted rope were being drawn tighter and -tighter around him. Long before the price of the twentieth jewel was -reached, he was a ruined man; and when the twenty-fourth was named as -worth upwards of "forty thousand" rupees, Shibbu threw himself on the -ground, beat his breast, tore his hair, and cast dust on his beard. - -"Oh! Have mercy—mercy on me!" he cried. - -He might as well have asked mercy from the stones as from the wicked -Lachman Dás. - -Shibbu saw himself stript at once not only of his ill-gotten three -hundred rupees, but of his house, everything that he possessed,—yes, -even of his very freedom! Lachman Dás kept him to his agreement, and -the fruit of Shibbu's successful, lying and cheating was poverty, -misery, and bondage to the end of his wretched days. - -Reader! Have you ever made anything by lying or cheating? Then are you -in as evil a condition as Shibbu? You have a hard creditor in Satan, -the evil spirit, and every pie that you have gained by his means is -"set down," to be accounted for hereafter. You may now, like Shibbu, -be exulting in your success. Perhaps you are a bunniah, rich from -what you have wrung from the poor. Perhaps a Government official, -whose hands are not clean from bribes. Perhaps a contractor, who has -amassed thousands of rupees by dishonest bargains. In whatever way the -ill-gotten money has come, be sure that the reckoning day is near. - -Do you know what, in the Word of God, is written about the fate of the -liar? Hear it, O sinner! and tremble—"All liars shall have their part -in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone, which is the second -death" (Rev. xxi. 8). You have sold yourself as bondsman to him who is -indeed the father of lies, one who is more cruel than Lachman Dás. Man -can but hurt the body, but the evil one destroys the soul. Poor lost -one! Dost thou boast of thy successful lies and thy clever bargains? -See what they will bring thee to in the end. Thou hast heaped up a debt -beyond what thou canst count, and every pie must be paid. - -Yet even thou needst not despair; if thou, O lost one! repent and -forsake thy sin, there is a way by which even your enormous debt can be -paid—The Son of Man is come to save that which is lost (Matt. xviii. -11). The Christian religion offers pardon to the sinful, freedom to the -bound, and life to the dying. - -What would have been the feelings of Shibbu, when grovelling on the -ground, groaning and despairing, had some prince come forward and said, -"Fear not, I will pay all thy debt; my treasury is full, and were thy -debt even to empty it, thou shouldst go free." Would not Shibbu have -sprung up from the dust, then thrown himself at the prince's feet, and -wept for joy? Even this act of mercy hath the Lord Jesus, God's Son, -performed for thee, if thou believe. From the treasures of His grace -He pays all thy debt, so that Satan hath no power to ruin thee. Christ -came from heaven to pay it; He shed His own blood to pay it; there is -freedom and life and joy for those who trust in His name! - -[Illustration] - - - - THE ILL-FAVOURED BRIDE. - - [Illustration] - -TO the wise and virtuous Hossein was born a son whom he called Shádia -Shah (Prince of Pleasure) in the gladness of his heart. But the son -at whose birth had been many rejoicings, grew up to be a care and -sorrow to his parents. As the son of a wealthy man, Shádia fell into -temptations which assail the rich more than the poor. He thought that, -having no need to labour for his bread, he was not required to labour -at all. - -Shádia was placed at a Government school, but scarcely attended one day -out of three. He fell amongst evil companions, who led him into habits -of gambling. From morn till night the youth would sit in worse than -idleness, rattling the dice or shuffling the cards. In vain his father -reproved him, in vain his mother entreated. Shádia constantly incurred -debts which his father paid with sorrow and shame. - -"Alas!" said the neighbours. "That so wise a man should have so foolish -a son!" - -One evening Shádia, having partaken of a plentiful meal, stretched -himself on his charpai, wrapped his rich coverlet around him, and -closed his eyes as if to sleep. His father and a friend named Mihr Dád, -sat at a little distance smoking their hookahs. Then after a while, the -bubbling sound of the hookahs ceased, and the two friends engaged in -the following conversation:— - -"Is it not time," asked Mihr Dád, "that your honour should make some -arrangement for the marriage of your son?" - -"Arrangements are already in progress," was the reply. - -This was to Shádia startling and interesting intelligence. * He -noiselessly turned round on his charpai, and raised his head a little -that he might listen the better. - - * But not as astounding as it would have been to a European. In the -East, relatives arrange marriages, the bride and bridegroom are not -supposed to meddle in the matter. - -"No doubt your honour has chosen for Shádia the daughter of some -highly-esteemed man of excellent family," said Mihr Dád. - -"I cannot say that," replied Hossein. "The bride's father is not a -respectable man, but one of mean and grasping character, and of very -low birth. He is, moreover, exceedingly ugly." - -"That sounds not well," said the friend. "But perhaps the good -qualities of the bride's mother counterbalance the evil ones of the -father." - -"Oh! The mother is mad!" replied Hossein. - -Poor Shádia became very uneasy as he listened, and raised his head a -little higher, hoping that he was unnoticed, as he lay in the shadow of -a pillar. - -"It is to be hoped that the girl does not resemble her parents," -observed Mihr Dád. - -"She is said to be more ugly than her father, and more mad than her -mother," was Hossein's reply. - -The poor intended bridegroom could hardly refrain from an exclamation -of disgust. What could his father mean by making so horrible a marriage -for his only son and heir! - -"I suppose that the money arrangements at least will be satisfactory," -said Mihr Dád after a pause; "the girl will bring great wealth to the -house of her future lord." - -"Anything but wealth," replied Hossein with a sigh. "Her father makes -many promises indeed, but he is pretty certain never to fulfil them. On -the other hand, Shádia's friends must settle on his bride all that he -now possesses, or may inherit at my death. I believe that the result of -the union will be to bring him to beggary at last." - -Shádia could listen in silence no longer. He sprang from his charpai, -and with flashing eyes and quivering lips suddenly appeared before his -father. - -"I will never make such a marriage!" he exclaimed. "Why have you chosen -for me so hateful a bride?" - -"I have not chosen her for thee, O my son!" Hossein mildly replied. -"Thou hast chosen her for thyself. I would have wedded thee unto -Wisdom, thou hast given thyself unto Gambling." - -The youth looked somewhat perplexed. - -"Sit down beside us," said the father, "and hear the meaning of my -parable, and profit by it, my son." - -Shádia took his place on the mat, and listened in silence while Hossein -went on. "Gambling is the daughter of Covetousness, and her mother is -the mad Love of Pleasure. She inherits the evil qualities of both her -parents. She brings the rich to poverty, and the honourable unto shame. -Didst thou ever know a gambler who rose to distinction by honest, -persevering industry? Didst thou ever know a gambler who was blessed by -his family, or who left a good name behind him?" - -Shádia hung his head as one ashamed. - -"Oh! My son, it is in youth that unions are formed on which the -happiness or misery of the whole life may depend. You are now -contracting habits which, if confirmed, will prove your ruin. The wild -mirth of your associates is like the festivities and fireworks at a -marriage, where the bridegroom is a victim, and the bride a fiend in -disguise. For is it not the natural effect of the vice of gambling to -destroy all that is noble in the character of man? If the parents of -Gambling be Covetousness and the mad Love of Pleasure, what are her -children? Idleness, Selfishness, Neglect of Duty, Poverty, Misery, and -at length Despair." - -Shádia took to heart the words of his father, and resolved from that -day to break from the evil habit which was ruining his prospects and -corrupting his heart. - -And now, O reader! There is another kind of gambling against which -I would warn you, Gambling daily practised by many who never touch -a dice or a card. It is playing at the game of chance, at which the -immortal soul is the stake. You may have been born among Hindus or -Mahomedans, Sikhs or Christians; you may have learned from childhood -to streak your forehead with the mark of Shiv, or to say, "There is -one God, and Mahomed is His prophet," or to honour Goru Nanak, or to -reverence the name of Christ. You go on doing these things, but as -a matter of custom. Your common sense tells you that amongst many -differing religions not all can be right—that if God be One, so Truth -must be one; many paths lead to Hell, only one can lead to Heaven. Why -do you not search and inquire, to be certain which is the right one? -Why read you not Shastra and Grundth, Qurán and Bible, and compare them -together, with earnest prayer to God for guidance? Because you shrink -from labour, because you are willing to stake your soul on a "chance!" - -Consider what is the stake. If you saw a royal gambler who should cry -as he rattled the dice—"If I throw anything but six, I am content to -forfeit my crown, come down from my throne, and take my place amongst -the beggars who throng my gates!" Would you praise that king for -wisdom? Would you not say, "Alas! He is mad!" - -Or if you saw a youth seated at play, and heard him exclaim with -a solemn oath—"If I lose this game of chance, I will throw myself -into yon well a thousand feet deep, and make my life the forfeit of -failure!" Would you praise that youth for wisdom; would you not rather -cry, "Put him at once into confinement; it is not safe to leave him to -himself!" - -But he who stakes his soul, stakes more than a crown, stakes more than -his earthly existence. He stakes future happiness, more precious than -kingdoms; he risks the loss of bliss through millions and millions of -ages. He risks it on the "chance" that his forefathers were right, and -seeks no proof that they were so. Is this conduct the conduct of the -wise? If the Mahomedan religion be from God, what will become of the -Hindu? If the Christian Faith be indeed the true one, what will be the -fate of those who, refusing to examine its proofs, reject it? - -O reader! Gamble not with your own soul; become a patient, earnest, -prayerful inquirer after truth. Examine the foundations of various -religions, especially of that which fears no test. Mahomed himself -declared the Tauret of Moses, the Books of the Prophets, and the Gospel -to be the Word of God, yet willed not that his followers should read -them! Has Wisdom no answer to the question "'Why' was he unwilling that -men should search the Scriptures, though Christ, whom he knew to be a -Prophet, commanded that men should search them?" Was it not that he had -reason to dread the light that would pour in on the soul from reading -the inspired books? - -To seek for the truth—this is wisdom. To search and examine whether -the foundation on which we build our hopes of heaven be firm and -sure—this also is wisdom. To pray to the unseen God to guide us in our -search—this is wisdom; and having found truth, to embrace and hold it -fast to the end—this is wisdom indeed! - -[Illustration] - - - - THE LADDER OF LIFE. - - [Illustration] - -LOOK on the shadow of great realities shown forth in a dream! I beheld -as it were a mighty Cross, the top of which I could not see, for it was -hidden in a bright cloud; and the arms spread from East to West, as if -to embrace all the world. Against this Cross, resting upon it, was a -wondrous ladder with poles of gold, and seven rounds of various tints, -each different from the other. - -The first round of the ladder was of the hue of ashes, and on it was -written these words from Scripture—"I acknowledge my transgressions, -and my sin is ever before me: what shall I do that I may be saved?" The -name of this round was Repentance. - -The second round was blue and bright as the summer sky. On it was -written these words—"God so loved the world that He gave His only -begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but -have everlasting life." The name of this round was Faith. - -The third round was of glowing crimson hue, richer and more beauteous -than that of rubies. On it was written these words—"We love Him because -He first loved us." The name of this round was Love. - -The fourth round was green as emeralds sparkling in the light of the -noonday sun. Even to look on it gladdened the heart, and ever and anon -flowers appeared to blossom upon it, as roses bloom on the green earth. -The name of this round was Joy. On it was written—"In whom believing, -ye rejoice with joy unspeakable, and full of glory." - -The fifth round was very marvellous to look on. Its colour was pale -violet, and on it appeared in gold the semblance of an eye, an ear, a -mouth, a hand, a heart, and other objects. The name of this round was -Service, and on it was written—"I beseech you, by the mercies of God, -that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto -God, which is your reasonable service." - -The sixth round was of spotless whiteness, compared to which the pearl -is without beauty, and the new-fallen snow without brightness. The name -of the round was Holiness, and on it was written, "Holiness—without -which no man shall see the Lord." - -The seventh round appeared to be formed of golden light, but it dazzled -my eyes so much, that I could not see it distinctly. The name of that -round was Glory. On it was written, though I scarcely could read, on -account of the excessive brightness—"To them who by patient continuance -in well-doing seek for glory, and honour, and immortality, eternal -life." - -When I looked upon the ladder, I rejoiced, but when I looked from it -to the earth I trembled. In the distance I saw red flames, as of a -vast conflagration, and though yet afar off, minute by minute they -drew nearer and nearer. I knew that a fiery deluge of destruction was -spreading over the land, and was conscious that at last there would be -no means of escape but by the way of the ladder that was resting upon -the Cross. - -On the first round of the ladder, Repentance, I saw several women -seated, and all appeared to be in trouble, looking ever and anon to -the fire at a distance. I heard first one, then another, repeat with -weeping the words inscribed on the round. These were women whose hearts -were touched with a sense of their sins. - -"Oh! What must I do to be saved?" cried one. - -A Brahmin in a long dhoti, and with painted lines on his forehead, -and a string of beads in his hand, stood near. He heard the woman's -exclamation and replied, "Go on pilgrimage to Kashi, bathe in the -sacred Ganges, do pujá at the shrines, give offerings to the priests, -and possibly even thou mayst obtain emancipation." - -A turbaned Mahomedan Moulvie on the other side, with a copy of the -Qurán in his hand, cried aloud, "There is but one God, and Mahomet is -his prophet. Keep the fasts, pray five times a day, observe all the -laws of Islam; even for women a place in Paradise may be found; saith -not the prophet, that God will lead the believers of both sexes to the -gardens of delight?" - -Some of the women descended from their place on the round, and followed -the one or the other speaker. I know not whether their hearts had found -rest, but as they were now standing on the doomed earth, I feared that -none were really in safety. Their eyes were fixed on that earth, and -they turned their backs upon the Cross. - -Two youthful sisters remained on the round of Repentance, nor listened -to Brahmin nor Moulvie. Their gaze was anxiously fixed on the second -round of the ladder, a round which was very high, and therefore hard -to climb. At last, one of the sisters raised her hand, grasped firmly -the round of Faith, and by her companion's aid got a footing upon it. -The uppermost climber then helped the other up. Trembling from the -exertions which they had made, both the young women stood trembling -upon the round. - -Then loudly from those below arose the cry, "Come down!" mingled with -angry threats and curses. And suddenly a tremendous wind began to blow, -increasing to a hurricane. It could not shake the ladder indeed, but it -greatly harassed and frightened the girls who were clinging to it. - -"I cannot stop here!" cried the elder. "I cannot endure this storm!" I -could see in my dream that every limb was trembling from the blast of -"persecution." - -"Hold on! Oh! Hold on, my sister!" cried the younger. "A voice is -sounding even through the storm, 'Whosoever shall confess Me before -men, him will I confess also before my Father which is in heaven.'" - -"Oh! This is terrible!" exclaimed the elder. "I can endure no more!" As -she uttered the words she let go her hold, and dropped to the ground, -sorely bruising herself against the round of Repentance as she fell. - -A cry of anguish burst from her sister; but still notwithstanding the -furious storm, and the fiercer cries of those beneath, she maintained -her grasp, and only clung the harder, the louder the tempest of -persecution blew. - -She not only clung, but she climbed. It seemed as if the very blast -helped to bear her upward, so quickly did the brave girl reach the -third round, the ruby round of Love. It appeared as if there she would -find some rest; from thence she could look down on the crowd, and less -heed their hooting and upbraiding. I thought in my dream that I heard -her say, "Perfect love casteth out fear." - -Upward and upward still, struggling, clinging, climbing, the girl has -reached the round of Joy. Then suddenly the wind went down, as if a -voice had commanded it to be still, and as I looked on the climber, I -beheld her face lighted up with exceeding delight. A song of joy burst -from her lips, "My soul doth, magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath -rejoiced in God my Saviour!" Methinks there is no happiness on earth -like the happiness which fills the heart of those who have risen from -Faith and Love to Joy! - -But there were other heights to be reached, and the climber was soon -upon the round of Service. The ruby light of Love, the emerald radiance -of Joy were about her still, as if she carried them with her. Her happy -song did not cease; Service was evidently to the climber a post of -honour and pleasure. To devote heart and eye, lips and hand, all that -we have, and all that we are to Him who gave Himself for us, this is -not the task of the slave, this is the adopted child's privilege and -delight. - -But still, even when on the round of Service, the girl's eyes were -fixed on the round of Holiness above her, the beauteous pearly round. -She stretched her hand upwards, longing to reach it, but it seemed -too high for her even to touch. "Oh! Create in me a clean heart!" she -cried. "And renew a right spirit within me!" - -As the climber stretched upwards with wistful gaze, I saw an angel -with snowy wings and starry crown suddenly swoop down from the sky. He -caught the weary one in his strong arms, and in a moment placed her on -the round of Holiness, and then onwards—upwards to Glory! - -The crowd below cried, "The Christian is dead!" I knew that she had -but entered into heavenly rest. They saw in the winged messenger the -terrible form of Death, I beheld in him a ministering angel sent by the -Lord of Life. Blessed are they whom He finds on the round of Service, -still shining with Faith, and Love, and Joy! - -Reader! This is a parable for all who have learned that they are -sinners, who have heard of the love of a Saviour! If you have read this -book, the Ladder of Life is before you, it remains with you whether -or not you will resolve to climb it. At the last Great Day you cannot -plead, "No one warned me of coming judgment, no one showed me a way to -escape." Have you reached even the first round of the ladder? Has the -cry ever burst from your heart, "God be merciful to me a sinner! What -must I do to be saved?" - -If, as is possible, though you yet be called a Hindu, you have reached -the second round of the ladder, think not that it is possible to rest -securely on the bare belief that Christ died for sinners, without the -Love which can raise you above the fear of man. The devils believe, but -do not love; their dead faith can never save them. If you, like too -many, are content to think as a Christian, but live like a heathen, -you are in fearful danger of a fall. Oh! Climb upward, struggling and -praying, and be assured that it is Love that leads to Joy, and to that -ready glad Service which shows to all that true faith inevitably leads -to a useful, devoted life. - -Do you long for Holiness, never fully attained on earth, yet aimed at -by every sincere Christian? Hear the words of the Saviour— "Blessed -are they that hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be -filled. We know that when He shall appear we shall be like Him, for we -shall see Him as He is." To be with Him, and like Him for ever, this is -glory indeed! - -Once more look at the rounds of the Ladder of Life, and as you look, -ask your own heart, "Do I desire to climb it?" And if you find the -desire, oh! Turn it into a prayer—"Lord! By the help of Thy Holy -Spirit, give me strength to climb it, for the sake of Thy blessed Son." - -A. L. O. E. would suggest to kind young friends eager to help -Missionaries, how very acceptable would be copies of this Ladder made -in cardboard, with bright colours and gilding. She has herself made -several, and few things are so useful to her in Zenanas as the one -which she has reserved for herself. A friend greatly added to its value -by putting a little figure of a man upon it, who, by being drawn up by -means of a string at the back, mounts from round to round. Children in -Mahomedan schools have readily learned by heart the precious verses -attached to Repentance, Faith, &c. Nothing should be written on the -Ladder except the names of the rounds and references to suitable -verses. Each Missionary should learn to repeat these verses in the -language of the people she visits. - - Ladder of Life. - - GLORY WITH CHRIST. - LIKENESS TO CHRIST. - SERVICE FOR CHRIST. - JOY IN CHRIST. - LOVE TOWARDS CHRIST. - FAITH IN CHRIST. - REPENTANCE FOR SIN. - - - - THE BRAHMIN BOY. - - [Illustration] - -PRITHU was the eldest son of a "Brahmin" (one of the highest "caste" -or class in India, who think themselves twice-born, and so entitled to -look down on their fellow-men). Little Prithu would probably at one -time have almost rather starved than have eaten food which had been -touched by one of low caste, or by a Christian, or have cut off the -tuft of hair at the top of his head, which was a sign of his being a -Brahmin. Prithu has cut away the precious tuft, and now sits down at -the Christian's table, and gives thanks to the Christian's God. But the -Brahmin boy had a hard struggle to go through before he left father and -mother, country and friends, for the sake of the Gospel. - -Prithu's home was in Narowal, which is in the large province called -the Punjab. Narowal is a heathen place, but in it is a school, which -was watched over by Mr. Bateman, an English missionary. Earnestly had -Mr. Bateman been trying to win souls for Christ in Narowal and the -country around. His was not an easy work, nor always a safe one. On -one occasion some villagers were so angry with Mr. Bateman for having -been the means of drawing a boy to the Saviour, that they threatened to -drown the missionary the next time that he should cross their ferry. - -"I am not easily drowned," was Mr. Bateman's good-humoured reply. - -The natives dared not drown the English gentleman, however willing -they were to do so, but they showed their spite by trying to drown his -camels. When the large heavy beasts had to cross the ferry, a villager -led them into a quicksand, where they had no safe footing. Down went -the poor camels and Mr. Bateman's luggage into the water. The heathen -around refused to bring a boat, or to help the poor struggling beasts. -But let us return to our Brahmin. - -Prithu's father placed his boy at the Narowal school, hoping to make -him a clever man, but certainly "not" a Christian; he wished his son -to gain knowledge, but not that knowledge which is more precious than -all besides. But Prithu was thus within hearing of God's Word, and -with him it did not fall like seed by the wayside. The boy listened, -attended, and learned to love the Gospel, Prithu did not read his Bible -as carelessly as do many so-called Christian boys. The truth was taking -root in his heart, and the young Brahmin believed that Christ died for -sinners, and felt that he must love Him who had given so great a proof -of His love for mankind. - -Great was the vexation of Prithu's father when he found that his son -wished to become a Christian. He took his boy from Narowal, and placed -him in a school at Lahore. But though no longer with his friend the -missionary, Prithu did not forget his teachings. The seed of truth went -on growing, Prithu's faith and love increased. In the spring, Prithu -returned to Narowal, and spent a fortnight there, studying the Gospel, -and trying to encourage a fellow-scholar who, like himself, believed -the truth, and had to suffer persecution for righteousness' sake. - -You must not suppose that Prithu was a boy without faults; he had to -fight against sin within, as well as bear opposition from without. The -Brahmin lad had been brought up in a land where sins of the tongue, -evil-speaking, and lying, are fearfully common. On one occasion, he -insulted his friend the missionary. - -Mr. Bateman was engaged in writing, when Prithu asked him a question. -The reply did not please the young Brahmin, who uttered a rude word to -express that he did not believe that what the clergyman had told him -was true. - -The missionary rebuked the insolent lad. "Do you take me for a Hindoo -or a Mahometan," said he, "that you think that I should lightly tell -you a lie?" And turning round, the missionary went on with his writing. - -Mild as was the reproof, it cut the boy to the heart. As Mr. Bateman -described it, "he shrivelled up like the branch of a sensitive plant." -Prithu felt how unjust, how ungrateful it had been to give the lie to -one whom he so well knew to be speaking the truth in love. - -For about half-an-hour Mr. Bateman went on with his writing, leaving -the boy to reflect over his fault. Then the missionary, looking at the -silent humbled Prithu, asked him of what he was thinking. - -"I was thinking that if God were to cut out my unworthy tongue, it -would be better for me," was the poor young Brahmin's reply. - -Surely the "idle word" thus repented of was forgiven both by the master -on earth and the Master in Heaven. - -Thus has been described the peace and joy which came to Prithu when -shown how he could overcome the sins of the tongue. - -No burst of Sunshine on that April day made any landscape brighter than -was his face when God's light broke through the cloud which hung over -his heart, and he found the true remedy for his fault as he learned to -pray, "Set a watch, O Lord, before my mouth, and keep the door of my -lips, that I offend not with my tongue." How many of my British readers -have from the heart uttered this prayer, and if they have never yet -done so, is it "because they do not need it?" - -Brightly and more brightly the light of truth shone upon the Brahmin -boy. He received Christ as his Saviour, he was willing to leave all, -and take up his cross to follow Christ. But oh! what a heavy cross it -was to the tender loving heart of Prithu! - -We who have been born of Christian parents, and brought up in Christian -homes, know little of the agony to be borne by the convert who stands -alone in his family, the one Christian amongst many heathen. The more -tender the heart, the more sharp is the pain. - -Prithu had the courage to ask for baptism, but Mr. Bateman thought him, -under the circumstances, too young yet to receive it. Prithu was then -not fifteen years old; he must count the cost before he gave up all -for Christ; he must not hastily take a step which might divide him for -ever from those whom he fondly loved. Prithu returned to Lahore without -having had the water of baptism on his brow, but he carried with him -the grace of God in his heart. Unlike many lads in Britain who dread -even the scoff or laugh from ungodly companions which might follow -their showing that they care for religion, unlike those who are ashamed -even to be seen engaged in prayer, Prithu boldly confessed his faith in -Christ. - -The Brahmin father took his boy from the school in Lahore, and placed -him in another, where he heard wicked blasphemous words uttered against -Christ. Prithu was sorely distressed. He was like a light shining in a -dark place; the wind of opposition was blowing round it; would it not -flicker, would it not go out? Could a boy not yet fifteen years old -hold fast his faith to the end? - -Mr. Bateman was anxious about Prithu, and consulted a magistrate -regarding the case of the boy. By the magistrate's advice, the -missionary had a serious conversation with the father of his young -friend. Mr. Bateman told the Brahmin that in three months more Prithu -would be old enough to judge for himself which God he would serve, and -that if, after that time, the lad still wished to be a Christian, the -missionary would no longer refuse to baptise him. But during those -three months of trial Prithu must go home with his father; that father -might do all that he could to draw him back to the Hindoo religion, -every means might be taken to work upon the boy's love or fear, his -desire of praise, his dread of shame, and his pride of caste. - -It was just and fair that the father should be given those three months -during which he might try to win back his boy; it was honourable in -the missionary to do nothing, even for the sake of converting a soul, -in a deceitful underhand way. But it was a bitter trial to Mr. Bateman -thus to part with his beloved young convert; he could not but dread the -effect which those terrible three months might have upon the courage -and faith of Prithu. Could the lad, with no Christian friend beside -him, resist the arguments of his father, the tears of his own dear -mother, the taunts or entreaties of those whom he had known from his -childhood? Doubtless Mr. Bateman was very earnest in prayer for his -poor Brahmin boy, but he felt like Darius when giving up Daniel to be -thrown into the den of lions! - -Prithu had indeed a trying time before him, his faith and perseverance -had to endure a very sharp test. He was carried off into the land of -Cashmir, which does not belong to our Queen, that he might be quite -beyond reach of Christian friends. He was washed in so-called sacred -springs; he was talked to by famous Brahmins; he was made to sit day -after day before one of the hideous idols whom the heathen worship. -Those around him tried to stir up the pride of the youthful Brahmin. - -"Alas!" said one. "That you should trouble so holy a man as your -father, and disgrace so great a family by becoming a Christian!" - -"If I am the son of a great and good man, why should I not put out my -hand to take a great and good thing?" was Prithu's reply. - -Prithu had indeed put out his hand to grasp the Christian's hope; but -would he have strength to hold it fast? The poor boy's comfort and -strength was found in prayer. Even when forced to crouch before a -hateful idol, the young convert was lifting up his heart to his Lord. - -Prithu was specially comforted by the Saviour's promise, "BE THOU -FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH, AND I WILL GIVE THEE A CROWN OF LIFE." - -Prithu had no opportunity of writing to Mr. Bateman, and yet he -contrived to send a message to him. The way in which the poor lad did -this is one of the most interesting parts of his story. - -Before Prithu had been forced to leave his Christian friend, the two -had studied together a part of the Bible which to some of my readers -may be little known. In the law of Moses it is written that a freed -slave might have the choice of serving his master still, if he loved -that master so well as to resolve never to leave him till death. In -sign of such earnest, devoted love, the freed slave had his ear bored, -such was the token appointed by Moses. Now Prithu had resolved to take -the Lord Jesus as his Master for ever, and he thought that he would -have a sign like that of the freed slave. There was no need to bore -Prithu's ear, for it was already pierced for rings, after the custom of -the East, where boys as well as girls wear jewels. Prithu, as a token -of his love for his Master in Heaven, had put a little sprig of wood -into the hole in his ear, and had told Mr. Bateman that if ever he, -Prithu, should take that sprig out, it would be because he had given up -serving Christ as his Master. - -Often must the missionary have anxiously thought of his tempted boy, -and have asked himself the question, "Does my poor Prithu still wear -the sprig in his ear, or has he thrown it away, and with it cast away -his faith in Christ, and his hope of heaven?" - -Mr. Bateman was not to be left in doubt. One day a letter from Prithu's -father reached the missionary. I do not know what the letter contained, -most likely words of reproach, perhaps of abuse. But it was not on the -letter itself but on the yellow envelope which had held it that the -eyes of Mr. Bateman were fixed with eager interest. - -I have seen that yellow envelope in the missionary's album, there kept -amongst his treasures; and why is it thus preserved and valued? It is -certainly a very common-place thing to look at, and its neatness is not -improved by having on it an odd little sketch of a head in profile, -a head not so large as a pea, and roughly drawn, as if by the hand -of a child. Out of the head something appears to be sticking, such a -very small thing that when I saw it first it scarcely attracted my -notice. But that tiny head with something sticking out of it, had not -only attracted the missionary's notice, but had filled his heart with -thankful delight. Not the finest painting in the world could have given -Mr. Bateman such joy as did the rude sketch on the yellow envelope. He -knew that Prithu, his brave noble boy, must have drawn it on the cover -of his father's letter; and was sure that the small line, which to a -stranger would have no meaning, must represent "the sprig in the bored -ear!" The tried, tempted Prithu in that sketch had sent a token that he -was still resolved to serve the Lord. - -Mr. Bateman described his feelings on seeing the tiny picture as like -those of King Darius when he heard the voice of the living Daniel -coming from the lions' den, "My God hath sent His angel, and stopped -the lions' mouths, that they should not hurt me." - -It wanted but one day to the end of the three months of trial, when the -Brahmin father brought back Prithu to Mr. Bateman. There was a little -disappointment felt by the missionary at that meeting; for though -Prithu said that his faith was firm, yet he did not ask yet to be -baptised. Perhaps the lad's courage failed him a little before he took -so decisive a step; perhaps he shrank from cutting himself off from -family and friends. Prithu may have been suffered to feel natural fear, -that he might know the better that all his former strength had been -given by God. But if Prithu wavered a little, it was not for long, his -mind soon was made up, and soon the Brahmin convert was baptised in the -Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, thus openly confessing -his faith, and devoting himself, boy and soul, to the service of his -Redeemer. - -You may think that Prithu had now passed through his trials, but they -were not quite over yet. The boy was dear to his family, and even after -his baptism they would have taken him back to their home and their -hearts, had he consented to deny his Lord. But neither entreaties nor -taunts moved Prithu to give up Christ. - -The first time that Prithu's father came to see him after his baptism -was a painfully anxious time for Mr. Bateman. The Brahmin took his boy -alone with him to the top of the house; what passed between them I know -not, but the time was one of great anxiety to Mr. Bateman, who remained -below. The private conversation lasted so long, that the missionary -grew very uneasy. Great was his relief when Prithu at last appeared, -corning down from the top of the house, and singing that song which has -cheered and encouraged so many Christians— - - "Safe in the arms of Jesus, - Safe on His gentle breast." - -When Mr. Bateman, on account of shattered health, came to England, he -brought his Prithu with him, and it was thus that I met the Christian -convert. So bright I thought him, so clever, so full of intelligence -and affection! I hope to meet Prithu again in his native land. The dear -boy is anxious that the Gospel should be carried to his loved country; -and he "wants me to see his mother." - -And now, what lesson shall be gleaned from the story of Prithu the -Brahmin boy? Dear readers, great is the need that Christian men and -women should go to that dark dark land to tell the poor heathen, who -worship wood and stone, of a Father in Heaven, and a Saviour who pities -and loves them. - -Let it first make us more zealous to help the cause of missions. Whilst -I am writing this, the fields of England are bright with the golden -harvest, sheaves are ready to be carried into the garner. Would it -not be grievous if hands were wanting for the work, if no sickle were -gleaming in the sunshine, if man looked on it with folded arms, till -the overripe corn should rot on the stems, or be destroyed by the -frosts of winter? - -And India is a part of God's harvest field, a part many times larger -than our isle. There are more than "two hundred millions" of souls in -India! Oh! How vast a harvest, and the labourers how few, how very few! -I have heard that there is but one European missionary to "five hundred -thousand" natives! Oh! Pray, earnestly pray to the Lord of the harvest, -that He may send forth more labourers into His harvest! - -Pray that amongst the natives themselves many teachers may arise; even -children may speak to children. The lips of a boy, young as Prithu, may -be opened to tell former playmates of that loving Lord who hath said, -"Suffer the little children to come unto Me." - -And pray for the English labourers already there, and those who are -going forth to help them. How few we are, and how weak! Think of the -difficulties before us, remember our need of help from above,—of -courage, wisdom, patience, and love. - -But why should we ask the prayers of those who perhaps have never once -in their lives really prayed for themselves? The young Brahmin will, -I fear, rise up in the judgment to condemn many who have had an open -Bible before them from the time when they first could read it, those -whose parents, unlike Prithu's, have tried to teach them to know the -Saviour. Prithu, in face of opposition, turned from his idol to serve -the living God. Reader! Will you turn away from God to serve your idol? - -"We have no idols in Britain," perhaps you reply. - -O Reader! Search your own heart; do not flinch from the duty. Ask -yourself; "Has God the first place in my heart?" If not, some idol is -there. It may be pride, or selfishness, or love of money; whatever it -be, if it be what we will not give up at our Lord's command, it is -as much an idol to us as is a bit of carved wood to the heathen. St. -John's warning is for "all"—"Little children, keep yourselves from -idols!" - -Remember the sprig in the ear of Prithu, the sign that he had given -himself to serve the Lord, and Him only. How often during his months of -trial must the boy have felt tempted to take out that sprig, to give -up the hard struggle, and go back to his heathen state! How often in -such moments of temptation did God's Word sound in his heart, BE THOU -FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH, AND I WILL GIVE THEE A CROWN OF LIFE! Do you know -anything of such a struggle, are you seeking for, or caring for the -crown of life? Think what it must be "to win;" and oh! think what it -would be "to lose it!" - -Dear Reader, I earnestly entreat you, "seek the Lord whilst He may be -found, call upon Him whilst He is near." "Choose you this day whom ye -will serve," and if your choice be made to serve your Master in Heaven, -like Prithu, be faithful and firm, keep not the sprig in the ear, but -the love in the heart. And oh! by the grace of God's Holy Spirit, may -we be kept from falling away; and when our trial time is over, may we -receive a welcome from the Master whose blood has bought and whose -Spirit has led us! May we hear from His blessed lips the gracious -words, "Well done, good and faithful servants, enter ye into the joy of -your Lord!" - - - - _FINIS._ - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77569 *** diff --git a/images/image001.jpg b/images/image001.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index defe0ba..0000000 --- a/images/image001.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image002.jpg b/images/image002.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index f5809fa..0000000 --- a/images/image002.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image003.jpg b/images/image003.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d20c6dc..0000000 --- a/images/image003.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image004.jpg b/images/image004.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index de3fade..0000000 --- a/images/image004.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image005.jpg b/images/image005.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 4c45e64..0000000 --- a/images/image005.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image006.jpg b/images/image006.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b4e3ef0..0000000 --- a/images/image006.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image007.jpg b/images/image007.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index ddc881f..0000000 --- a/images/image007.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image008.jpg b/images/image008.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index fb934a3..0000000 --- a/images/image008.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image009.jpg b/images/image009.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 687409d..0000000 --- a/images/image009.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image010.jpg b/images/image010.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b8f88d6..0000000 --- a/images/image010.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image011.jpg b/images/image011.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index ac6f750..0000000 --- a/images/image011.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image012.jpg b/images/image012.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index ffaa10f..0000000 --- a/images/image012.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image013.jpg b/images/image013.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 64c8514..0000000 --- a/images/image013.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image014.jpg b/images/image014.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d669f10..0000000 --- a/images/image014.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image015.jpg b/images/image015.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 02f68f4..0000000 --- a/images/image015.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image016.jpg b/images/image016.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 73b48bd..0000000 --- a/images/image016.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image017.jpg b/images/image017.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 04cf72f..0000000 --- a/images/image017.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image018.jpg b/images/image018.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 3136e90..0000000 --- a/images/image018.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image019.jpg b/images/image019.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0894bd6..0000000 --- a/images/image019.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image020.jpg b/images/image020.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 06bebbd..0000000 --- a/images/image020.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image021.jpg b/images/image021.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 3086b53..0000000 --- a/images/image021.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image022.jpg b/images/image022.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 3b24f82..0000000 --- a/images/image022.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image023.jpg b/images/image023.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 9612300..0000000 --- a/images/image023.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image024.jpg b/images/image024.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index bb5d33c..0000000 --- a/images/image024.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image025.jpg b/images/image025.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d2cda22..0000000 --- a/images/image025.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image026.jpg b/images/image026.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 18f2f89..0000000 --- a/images/image026.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/images/image027.jpg b/images/image027.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 8dad23b..0000000 --- a/images/image027.jpg +++ /dev/null |
