nging to a famous South-country
Temple, knowing the circumstances, had made a flattering offer for the
baby, then just three months old. The grandfather had refused; but the
grandmother was religious, and she felt the pinch of the extra five, and
secretly influenced her daughter, so that it was probable the Temple
woman would win if she waited long enough. And Temple women know how to
wait.

[Illustration: THE DOHNAVUR COUNTRY IN FLOOD.]

A year passed quietly. We had friends on the watch, and they kept us
informed of what was going on. The idea of dedication was becoming
gradually familiar to the grandfather, and he was ill and times were
hard. But still we could do nothing, for to himself and his whole clan
adoption by Christians was a far more unpleasant alternative than
Temple-dedication. After all, the Temple people never break caste.

Once a message reached us: "Send at once, for the Temple women are about
to get the baby"; and we sent, but in vain. A few weeks later a similar
message reached us; and again the long journey was made, and again there
was the disappointing return empty-handed. It seemed useless to try any
more.

About that time a comrade in North Africa, Miss Lilias Trotter, sent us
her new little booklet, "The Glory of the Impossible." As we read the
first few paragraphs and roughly translated them for our Tamil
fellow-workers, such a hope was created within us that we laid hold with
fresh faith and a sort of quiet, confident joy. And yet, when we wrote
to our friends who were watching, their answer was most discouraging.
The only bright word in the letter was the word "Impossible."

"Far up in the Alpine hollows, year by year, God works one of His
marvels. The snow-patches lie there, frozen into ice at their edges from
the strife of sunny days and frosty nights; and through that ice-crust
come, unscathed, flowers in full bloom.

"Back in the days of the bygone summer the little soldanella plant
spread its leaves wide and flat on the ground to drink in the
sun-rays; and it kept them stored in the root through the winter. Then
spring came and stirred its pulses even below the snow-shroud. And as it
sprouted, warmth was given out in such strange measure that it thawed a
little dome of the snow above its head. Higher and higher it grew, and
always above it rose the bell of air till the flower-bud formed safely
within it; and at last the icy covering of the air-bell gave way and let
the blossom t