t, and can
work at his own time, and can stay or move as his fancy dictates. On
the other hand, he may become the guest of one of the chief men of
the village, who will put his guest-house at his disposal and give
him hospitality. By this plan he is brought into much closer contact
with the people and will see more of them, but he will forfeit his
independence, will be obliged to consult his host in all his plans,
and must be prepared to put himself and his time at the disposal of
his host and the villagers, both by day and night.

Both methods have their advantages. For a new district, and where
the people are suspicious, the latter plan, though more exacting,
is probably the better; when the missionary has become well known
and has much work to do, the former is preferable.

The traveller who has spent a winter in touring India, but has only
visited the large towns and show places, and has never lived in
an Indian village, remains altogether a stranger to the deep inner
life of the Indian. The real India is not seen in the Westernized
bazaars of the large cities, but in the myriads of villages, wherein
more than 80 per cent. of the population of India dwell. Moreover,
a much better and more attractive side of Indian life is seen in the
villages than in the towns, and it is among their less sophisticated
population that the missionary spends his happiest hours.

When travelling without camp equipment, we generally follow the
Bible precept. We arrive at a village, and, "inquiring who within
it is worthy, abide there till we depart thence." This is usually
some malik, or head man, who possesses that great institution of
Afghanistan, a hujra, or guest-house. We are shown to this house,
usually a mud building with a low door and a few small apertures in
the walls in the place of windows, and a clean-swept earthen floor,
which may be covered by a few palm-mats. Hearing of our arrival,
the owner of the guest-house comes to receive us in the Oriental
fashion so familiar to readers of the Old Testament.

Thus, on one occasion I came rather late at night to one such
guest-house. The host had already retired, but rose from his bed
to receive me. I inquired if that was his hujra. He answered: "No;
it is God's, but I am in charge of it." Such expressions are not mere
form, as was shown by the cheerful and unostentatious way in which the
owner put himself out in order to insure my comfort. Once I arrived
about midnight at a vi