ith the temple. She must have heard her future being
discussed, and not understanding it, and being frightened, had wondered
if she might come to us. But they had taken their own way of reconciling
her to it; a few sweets, a cake or two, and a promise of more, a vision
of the gay time the magic word marriage conjures up, and the child was
content to go with them, to be led to the temple--and left there.

But her people were so thoroughly refined and nice, so educated
too,--could it be, _can_ it be, possibly true? Yes, it is true; this is
Hinduism--not in theory of course, but in practice. Think of it; it is
done to-day.

A moment ago I looked up from my writing and saw the little Elf running
towards me, charmed to find me all alone, and quite at leisure for
her. And now I watch her as she runs, dancing gleefully down the path,
turning again--for she knows I am watching--to throw kisses to me. And I
think of her and her childish ways, naughty ways so often, too, but in
their very naughtiness only childish and small, and I shiver as I think
of her, and a thousand thousand as small as she, being trained to be
devil's toys. They brought one here a few days ago to act as decoy to
get the Elf back. She was a beautiful child of five. Think of the shame
of it!

We are told to modify things, not to write too vividly, never to harrow
sensitive hearts. Friends, we cannot modify truth, we cannot write half
vividly enough; and as for harrowing hearts, oh that we could do it!
That we could tear them up, that they might pour out like water! that we
could see hands lifted up towards God for the life of these young
children! Oh, to care, and oh for power to make others care, not less
but far, far more! care till our eyes do fail with tears for the
destruction of the daughters of our people!

This photo is from death in life; a carcass, moving, breathing,
sinning--such a one sits by that child to-day.

I saw him once. There is a monastery near the temple. He is "the holiest
man in it"; the people worship him. The day I saw him they had wreathed
him with fresh-cut flowers; white flowers crowned that hideous head,
hung round his neck and down his breast; a servant in front carried
flowers. Was there ever such desecration? That vileness crowned with
flowers!

I knew something about the man. His life is simply unthinkable. Talk of
beasts in human shape! It is slandering the good animals to compare bad
men to beasts. Safer far a tiger'