ent spot in a
heathen land is a refreshing sight. When the bishop consecrated the
cemetery and dedicated the cross, he handed over to the Patel a
handsome chair with a gay cushion, as a token of our appreciation of
his kindness. In his official position as head of the village he
sometimes has to receive Government officers coming to the place on
business. But as no one in the village possessed a chair, he had
hitherto been obliged apologetically to spread a blanket for his
guests to sit upon. Hence a chair of state was a really useful
present.

One or two graves were dug in readiness, according to the custom in
Indian cemeteries, because of the rapid burial necessary in a tropical
climate. But for more than three years there was no death in the
Christian settlement. At last one of the little boys in the Home,
described in a letter as "our youngest and our best," died suddenly of
plague, and was buried in the new plot, appropriately enough, on Holy
Innocents Day, 1911.

Someone asked, "Was the Patel pleased with his chair?" A Hindu is
rarely actually pleased with a gift, because, however large it may be,
he generally regrets that it is not larger. When it got whispered
abroad that the Patel was going to receive a present, he had visions
of one of great value. A silver cup, or even one of gold, was
discussed as a possible, or even a probable gift. And though he had
the grace, unlike some Indians, not to grumble in our presence
concerning the nature of the presentation, the comment, "only a
chair," was the prevailing sentiment expressed in the village.

[Illustration: THE CEMETERY CROSS.]

A Hindu almost always asks for more. If you are paying a large
building account, the contractor will suggest that, because of the
excellence of his work, it would be only just and right to give him
Rs. 100 extra. The driver of a _tonga_ almost habitually asks for
more, irrespective of what has been given him. Hence people practise
the innocent artifice of handing to him somewhat less than his legal
fare, and then when he asks for more giving him the balance, and he
usually goes away quite satisfied. Porters at railway stations
unblushingly beg for tips, and remonstrate at the smallness of the
gift, and pursue the traveller about the station beseeching him to
consider their poverty. If you have been staying in an Indian
bungalow, an array of servants gather round at the time of your
departure, unless the master of the house has set