y
and in such form that we could not but stand and worship, awestruck by
the token of the nearness of our God. There is many a spot marked in
garden or in field or in the busy nursery or our own quiet room, where,
with the open letter in our hand--the letter of relief from a pressure
unknown even to the nearest fellow-worker--we have knelt in spirit with
Jacob and said: "Surely the Lord is in this place!" and almost added, so
dense are we in unilluminated moments, "and I knew it not."

Framed between red roofs and foliage, there are far blue glimpses of
mountains shown in this lakeside photograph. We do not see the water
from the compound. It lies on the other side of the boundary fields and
hedges; but we see the mountains with perfect distinctness of outline,
scarped with bare crags, which in the early morning are sometimes pink,
and in the evening, purple. But the time to see the mountains in their
glory is when the south-west monsoon is flinging its masses of cloud
across to us. Then the mountains, waking from the lazy sleep of the
long, hot months, catch the clouds on their pointed fangs, toss them
back and harry them, wrap themselves up in robes of them, and go to
sleep again.

The road that skirts the Red Lake leads through two ancient Hindu towns,
from both of which we have children saved, in each case as by a miracle.
In the first of these old towns there is a Temple surrounded by a mighty
wall.

There are two large gates and one small side door in the wall; and,
passing in through the small side door, one sees another wall almost as
strong as the first, and realises something of the power that built it.
The Temple is in the centre of the large enclosure. It is a single tower
opening off the inner court. In the outer court a pillared hall is used
as stable for the Temple elephant, and two camels lounge in the roughly
kept garden in front. This Temple, with its double walls, its massive,
splendidly-carved doors and expensive animal life, is somewhat of a
surprise to the visitor, who hardly expects to see so much in a little
old country town on the borders of the wilds. But Hinduism has not lost
hold of this old remote India yet. There are some who think that the
country town is the place to see it in strength.

[Illustration: AT THE DOOR OF THE TEMPLE.]

It was early in August, three years ago, that we heard of a baby girl in
that town, devoted from birth to the god. We set wheels in motion, and
waited. A