fellow, a
white child from England!"

"No, no," answered the little girl, "it would be taking her from her
parents."

"Well then," said her friend, "is there nothing I can bring you?"

"Well, if you are so kind as to insist on bringing me something, ask the
Christians in England to send me a Bible-book and more PADRI-SAHIBS."

[Illustration: MISSIONARY'S HOUSE.]

This was a good request indeed, but to get Padri-Sahibs is a hard thing
to do. Who can tell how much good they have done already! There are many
Christian villages in India, and they are as different from heathen
villages as a dove's nest is different from a tiger's den.

Some very wicked men have been converted. You have heard of those proud
and hateful beggars, the Sunnyasees and the Fakirs.

One day a missionary, who had gone for his health to the Himalaya
Mountains, was walking in the verandah of his house, when he was
surprised by a man suddenly throwing himself down at his feet, and
embracing his knees. The missionary could not tell who this man was, for
a dark blanket covered the man's head and face. But soon the covering was
lifted up, and a swarthy and withered countenance was shown; the
missionary knew it to be that of an old Fakir he once had known, as the
chief priest of a gang of robbers, but now the Mahomedan was become a
Christian; and he had travelled six hundred miles, hoping to see once
more the face of his teacher; and lo! he had seen it at last.

SCHOOLS.--The Hindoos have schools of their own, but only for boys. The
scholars sit in a shed, cross-legged upon mats, and learn to scratch
letters with iron pins upon large leaves. But what can they learn from
Brahmin teachers but foolish tales about false gods?

Missionaries have far better schools, where the Bible is taught; and
missionaries' wives have schools for girls; and sometimes they take pity
on poor orphans, and receive them into their houses.

One evening as a Christian lady was returning home, she saw a Hindoo
woman lying on the ground, and a little boy sitting by her side. The lady
spoke kindly to the sick woman, and then the little boy looked up and
said, with tears in his eyes, "My mother is sick, and has nothing to eat;
I fear she will die." The lady had compassion on the mother and the
child, and hastening home, she sent her servant to fetch them both. They
were soon put to rest on a nice clean mat, with a blanket to cover them;
but the mother died next morning. The li