It is rather a formidable-looking affair, but wholly desolate, or nearly so; the gods alone hold it. A sculptured griffin, cut in the rock doorway, stands guard. Passing in, you turn several corners, and soon are in the enclosure; crumbling buildings are all around, a green watertank collects the frogs, lizards crawl about, bugs wink at you, and the only pleasant thing that greets you is a pretty little wild flower, which still clings in fondness to the decaying fortress. A magnificent view of a wellcultivated country is sufficient reward for the climb, and I hoped to enjoy it, as a good sight of the plains of India that now knew no Sabbath, but should erelong. But as I was walking about I was surprised at suddenly seeing a crowd of people coming out of a building, close by which some flags were flying. They saw me; some ran back, the rest came forward, salaaming at a great rate. I salaamed back, and the leader came forward and stood waiting. What could I do but bring forward a little Tamil for their edification? I showed them what I had and they seemed pleased and showed me theirs. We were soon good friends. They were all boys, and the oldest, about seventeen, was a fine, pleasing-looking boy whom I took a fancy to at once. He offered to show me about, so I followed him, asking all sorts of questions, as well as I could. In the middle of the fort stood an old temple fast tumbling down; at the entrance was a pillar, mounted by a frame for a lamp. On two opposite sides were figures of some idol. It being probably a Mohammedan fort, I thought that the mark upon the other sides must be the hand, which makes so large a show in Mohammedan symbols; so I asked the boy. The only reply was a most contemptuous look and a kick of his foot against the carving.

It was really the mark — a trident — which all followers of Siva wear on their foreheads. He took me inside, where as usual elephant-headed Pilliyar was enthroned, and others by his side. All greasy and disgusting enough. The boy was a Mussulman and he and I could agree on the first article of our creed,

one God.

We walked about, and after a while I sat down and tried to talk a little with him. The whole company stood about me, except when sent off by the sober ones for snickering out, as most all did. I made out to get at some of his belief; one thing he said was, "Jesus is your God, Mohammed our God." I knew that all true Mohammedans hated the title Son of God, as applied to Christ, and so purposely used it. He at once caught me up, and holding up a finger said, — Only one God; how is Christ the Son of God?" My Tamil was not free enough, nor my purpose such as to lead me to reply, so I turned the subject. He was studying English, and as I walked off with him, expressed a wish to have a book. So I invited him to go to the bungalow with me. Down we went, the

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whole troop of us, he keeping all the boys from stepping ahead of me as we walked on. People stopped to look at us, and it did look not a little droll to see me heading a company of some dozen little boys or more into the bungalow-yard. Mr. Webb had come back from another street-talk, and I brought him my congregation. He had another talk with them. One thing the boy told him I never had heard of before. He said that Jesus, the prophet, had promised a Comforter, and that the Comforter was Mohammed. Mr. Webb gave the boy a Testament and he left us, pleasing us all by his frank and kindly ways.

14

Time is precious, and at midnight we were all called up to start on a trip of twenty-one miles to a place called Karûr. The first stage was twelve miles to the Câvery River, which we must cross. We poked along, enjoying the jolts, trying in vain to coax a little sleep, until 3.30 A. M., when we reached the bank of the river. Now for a good touch of Orientalism. How do you suppose we were to cross? Rubbing our eyes, all we could see that looked like boats were four concerns the most definite term I know-modelled most closely after that well-known conveyance in which the wise men of Gotham once sailed. They were four mammoth saucers, made of slit bamboo wicker-work, twelve feet in diameter, three feet deep. This wicker-work was covered with thick tough leather, making them almost completely water-proof. The first to enter this novel boat was Mrs. Webb, in her palanquin; with many groans the bowl was tipped up on end, and the palkee walked in. Next came our bandies. How they could be accommodated seemed a problem. The wind was very high, and the river swollen, and the head boatman said that the tops must be taken off the common carts. So they stripped off the mats, and, tipping up the next boat, backed Mr. Webb in, leaving out the bullocks. He presented a most laughable appearance, sitting in his cart, the bare framework looking like a big cage, and the whole bobbing up and down. Our turn came next. We stayed in the bandy, though the matter of boarding was so peculiar. Our spirits kept up, as we could see no difference in the boat-level, and we began to have a more favorable impression of Hindû navigation. The baggage-cart came next, and when all were safely in, the men climbed in, three into each.

The Webbs' boat soon disappeared in the dusk. Our turn came, but we did not fare so well. Three times, at least, after pushing off, we were driven back by the wind and current, as I believe, partly because the men were unwilling to go. I did n't know any words for managing such tubs, so I relieved my mind by driving at them in English. I did not at all relish the idea of spending the day there, as we had eight miles to go upon the other side before reaching a bungalow. I cried out to the cook to help off, but he said the wind was too high. But at last we started again, this time the men wading and pushing more by hand than by pole. The river was two miles wide, and we were three long hours getting over, working up-stream, and then poling across, shallow enough all the way. We spun around like tops, and at last reached the other side.

They landed us in a beautiful grove of cocoa-nut trees, and Mr. Webb hailed us with a bunch of plantains and a young cocoa-nut, the young milk of which was delightfully refreshing. Leaving the other carts to come when they could, we pushed ahead in our bandy, and before long were at the bungalow, Karûr, a wretchedly furnished place. We stayed through the day, and at four in the afternoon again set out for a night ride of forty-five miles to Dindigal. In five minutes we came to a river which we had good fun in crossing. I went in Mr. Webb's cart to try it, and my bandy went before with Mr. Webb, H., and Sarah. We left Mrs. Webb to come later. In went the bandy and bullocks, and twenty men about it, some hauling the bullocks, some tugging at the wheels, some pushing behind, and all yelling and screaming and

hurrahing like mad. Such a droll sight! I just looked on and roared with laughter. The river is narrow and shallow, but very swift. With the help of our friends we crossed safely, not wetting the bottoms of the carts. We were cheated about our bullocks, and had miserable sets. I rode in Mr. Webb's cart the first twelve miles. That is, I pretended to, but we got worked up about the lazy bullocks; so I got out and found a bamboo, with which I belabored the beasts, till I showed them that they could run if they chose, and for four miles I ran beside them, beating and yelling like any bandy-man. They sobered down again when I got in, so that toward the end I got out and ran another mile, and got away out of sight of my own bandy. The next stage we arranged ourselves for sleep, Mr. Webb and Sarah in his cart, H. and I in mine. But I could not sleep, and these bullocks were still more stupid. Mr. Webb went ahead, and was soon out of sight. So I got out about midnight, and ran along barefoot looking for a stick, and looking out for snakes. I got in and beat and cried out, but scared the driver more than the bullocks, and finally gave up. At four o'clock we came up with the relay, and this time had good bullocks and a good driver. Four miles. from Dindigal we met Mr. White's bandy come to help us; soon a man came along to meet us, and, after the custom of the country, brought us each a lime: if we receive it we are friends. The native pastor and catechists had been out to meet us, but were going back. Pretty soon we drove up to the Dindigal house, and received the welcome of Mr. and Mrs. White. We had been a few minutes here, when the Christians began to come in, each with a lot of limes, and then they