ly superior
to the childish nonsense the women talked, but they did not interfere.

Villages like this--and Old India is made up of such villages--are far
removed from the influence of the few enlightened centres which exist.
Madras is only a name to them, distant four hundred miles or so, a place
where Caste notions are very lax and people are mixed up and jumbled
together in a most unbecoming way.

Education, or "Learning," as they call it, they consider an excellent
thing for boys who want to come to the front and earn money and grow
rich. But for girls, what possible use is it? Can they pass examinations
and get into Government employ? If you answered this question you would
only disgust them. Then there is a latent feeling common enough in these
old Caste families, that it is rather _infra dig._ for their women to
know too much. It may be all very well for those who have no pretensions
to greatness, they may need a ladder by which to climb up the social
scale, but we who are already at the top, what do we want with it?
"Have not our daughters got their _Caste_?" This feeling is passing away
in the towns, but the villages hold out longer.

In that particular village we had some dear little girls who were
getting very keen, and it was so hard to move out, and leave the field
to the devil as undisputed victor thereon, and I sent one of our workers
to try again. She is a plucky little soul, but even she had to beat a
retreat. They will have none of us.

We went on that day to a village where they had listened splendidly only
a week before. They had no time, it was the busy season. Then to a town,
farther on, but it was quite impracticable. So we went to our friend the
dear old Evangelist there, the blind old man. He and his wife are lights
in that dark town. It is so refreshing to spend half an hour with two
genuine good old Christians after a tug of war with the heathen; they
have no idea they are helping you, but they are, and you return home
ever so much the happier for the sight of them.

As we came home we were almost mobbed. In the old days mobs there were
of common occurrence. It is a rough market town, and the people, after
the first converts came, used to hoot us through the streets, and throw
handfuls of sand at us, and shower ashes on our hair. In theory I like
this very much, but in practice not at all. The yellings of the crowd,
men chiefly, are not polite; the yelpings of the dogs, set on by
sympathe