Madras, I
think--and the poor old mother's one desire was to see us out of the
room. She had not liked to turn us out; but, as the news spread, more
women gathered clamouring round the door; and the moment we left the
room empty, in they rushed, with the mother and the women who had
listened to us, and flinging themselves on the floor, cried the Tamil
cry of sorrow, full of a pathos of its own: "Ai-y[=o]! Ai-y[=o]!
Ai-Ai-y[=o]!"

It was sad to leave them crying so, but at that moment we were certainly
better away. The children came with us to the well outside the village,
and we sat on its wall and went on with our talk. They would hardly let
us go, and begged us to come back and "teach them every day," not the
Gospel--do not imagine their little hearts craved for that--but reading
and writing and sums! As we drove off some of the villagers smiled and
salaamed, and the little children's last words followed us as far as we
could hear them: "Come back soon!"

Sometimes, as now, when we come to a new place, we dream a dream, dream
that perhaps at last it may be possible to win souls peacefully. Perhaps
these courteous, kindly people will welcome the message we bring them
when they understand it better. Perhaps homes need not be broken up,
perhaps whole families will believe, or individual members believing may
still live in their own homes and witness there. Perhaps--perhaps--! And
snatches of verse float through our dream--

"Oh, might some sweet song Thy lips have taught us,
Some glad song, and sweet,
Guide amidst the mist, and through the darkness,
Lost ones to Thy feet!"

It sounds so beautiful, so easy, singing souls to Jesus. And we dream
our dream.

Till suddenly and with violence we are awakened. Someone--a mere girl,
or a lad, or even a little child--has believed, has confessed, wants to
be a Christian. And the whole Caste is roused, and the whole countryside
joins with the Caste; and the people we almost thought loved us, hate
us. And till we go to the next new place we never dream that dream
again.

CHAPTER III

Humdrum

"A missionary's life is more ordinary than is
supposed. Plod rather than cleverness is often the
best missionary equipment."
_Rev. J. Heywood Horsburgh, China._

"Truly to understand the facts of work for Christ
in any land, we must strip i