nished up in the open air. There is a
tree at one end of the village; we stood under it and sang a chorus and
taught the children who had followed us from house to house to sing it,
and this attracted some passing grown-ups, who listened while we
witnessed unto Jesus, Who had saved us and given us His joy. Nothing
tells more than just this simple witness. To hear one of their own
people saying, with evident sincerity, "One thing I know, that whereas I
was blind now I see," makes them look at each other and nod their heads
sympathetically. This is something that appeals, something they can
appreciate; many a time it arrests attention when nothing else would.

[Illustration: We were not able to get the photo of that special girl
in the blue seeley, but this girl is so like her that I put her here.
She is a Vellalar. The jewels worn by a girl of this class run into
thousands of rupees. They are part of the ordinary dress. This girl did
not know we were coming, she was "caught" just as she was. She had a
ball of pink oleander flowers in her hands and white flowers in her
hair.]

We were thoroughly tired by this time, and could neither talk nor sing
any more. The crowd melted--all but the children, who never melt--one by
one going their respective ways, having heard, some of them, for the
first time. What difference will it make in their lives? Did they
understand it? None of them seemed specially interested, none of them
said anything interesting. The last question I heard was about
soap--"What sort of soap do you use to make your skin white?" Most of
them would far prefer to be told that secret than how to get a white
heart.

Afternoon Number Two found us in the Village of the Temple, a
tumble-down little place, but a very citadel of pride and the arrogance
of ignorance. We did not know that at first, of course, but we very soon
found it out. There was the usual skirmish at the sight of a live white
woman; no one there had seen such a curiosity. But even curiosity could
not draw the Brahmans. They live in a single straggling street, and
would not let us in. "Go!" said a fat old Brahman disdainfully; "no
white man has ever trodden our street, and no white woman shall. As for
that low-caste child with you"--Victory looked up in her gentle way, and
he varied it to--"that child who eats with those low-caste people--she
shall not speak to one of our women. Go by the way you have come!"

This was not encouraging. We salaamed