y the husband's
mother, to the humblest servant woman. The education of women is
prohibited; hence they are very much like children, playing with their
dolls, jewels and other toys, and having no higher idea of life in
general than what they have been taught in the nursery. It is rather
fortunate, therefore, that these lamentable victims of prejudice live in
ignorance, as long as the present condition exists, for otherwise their
life would be still more miserable.

In the course of the last few years missionaries from Europe and America
have opened schools for the education of girls. The most prominent of
these is located in Calcutta, and has many branches in other parts of
India. It is called "the American Zenana," or ladies' mission, and
during my stay in India it was managed by a Miss Hook, a very estimable
lady of Danish descent, the fruits of whose noble work will be of
incalculable value to future millions of Hindoo women.

[Illustration: MISSION HOME AND SCHOOL.]

At an examination in this school I had the honor of distributing the
prizes, consisting of five hundred American dolls sent by Cyrus Field of
New York. The recipients were the most dainty and pretty little girls
one could see. I wish I could describe this festivity. I sat on the
platform in the great hall with Miss Hook to the right, a pundit or
learned Brahmin to the left, and surrounded by the American and native
teachers and some American tourists. The immense hall might be compared
with a beautiful flower terrace alive with different colors, every
little girl shining like a pretty flower in her red, green, white, blue
or purple dress, her pretty black hair sparkling with gold and silver
ornaments or jewels. They were all listening with close attention until
their names were called, when they modestly, their faces beaming with
joy, stepped up to receive the pretty dolls sent by the generous
American.

At first these schools met with bitter opposition on the part of the
better classes of natives, but these prejudices gradually died away, and
at present the mission schools are not subject to either persecution or
ill-will.

One day in February, 1883, I received a visit at my home by a Brahmin of
the highest class, accompanied by his young wife and her little sister.
Her name was Annandabai Joshee. Her husband was postmaster in the old
Danish city Serampoor. He was a highly educated man, about forty years
of age, with fine, affable manners. His wi