he
pressure which is brought to bear upon them by a public which loves to
hear what it likes, they take the sting out of some strong paragraph by
adding an editorial "Nevertheless," is it very astonishing?

Do you think we are writing like this because we are discouraged? No, we
are not discouraged, except when sometimes we fear lest you should grow
weary in prayer before the answer comes. This India is God's India. This
work is His. Oh, join with us then, as we join with all our dear Indian
brothers and sisters who are alive in the Lord, in waiting upon Him in
that intensest form of waiting _which waits on till the answer comes_;
join with us as we pray to the mighty God of revivals, "O Lord, revive
Thy work! Revive Thy work in the midst of the years! In the midst of the
years make known!"

FOOTNOTE:

[1] See Appendix, p. 303.

CHAPTER XIV

What Happened

"Some years ago England was stirred through and
through by revelations which were made as to the
'Bitter Cry' of wronged womanhood. In India the
bitter cry is far more bitter, but it is stifled
and smothered by the cruel gag of Caste. Orthodox
Hindus would rather see their girls betrayed,
tortured, murdered, than suffer them to break
through the trammels of Caste."
_Rev. T. Walker, India._

THERE is another ancient town near Dohnavur, and in that town another
temple, and round the temple the usual Brahman square. In one of the
streets of this square we saw the girl whose face looks out at you. It
struck us as a typical face, not beautiful as many are, but
characteristic in the latent power of eyes and brow, a face full of
possibilities.

[Illustration: Here is one who might be a queen. What she _may_ be is
very different. She is a Brahman girl; all her people are Hindus. She
has never even felt a desire, or seen any one in her town who felt a
desire, to "fall into the pit of Christianity."]

We were rarely able to get anything we specially wanted, but we got
this. I look at it now, and wonder how it will develop as the soul
behind it shapes and grows. That child is enfolded in influences which
ward off the touch of the grace of life.

We saw numbers of women that day, but only at the distance of a street
breadth; they would not come nearer, for the town is still a Petra to
us, we are waiting to be led in.

But if we were able to g