standing at the church door, called out to
know whether I had any pictures to give away. I invited them instead
to come and see the church, and several boys left following the
palanquin and came towards me. The crowd seeing this, and moved with
curiosity, did the same, and in a few minutes the greater part of the
procession was diverted into the church. The result of this was the
unusual sight of the church crammed to the doors with eager Hindus in
holiday attire, and it gave an idea of what will be its aspect on some
great festival, after the conversion of the village has become an
accomplished fact.

The situation, however, soon became embarrassing. The Hindus appeared
rather pleased with their surroundings. Some of them had got with them
the heavy brass cymbals which they clash as a musical accompaniment in
their religious processions. They began to sound their cymbals and to
dance in the slow, sedate way, which they do in their temples on
festal occasions, or when having an outdoor procession. Meanwhile the
directors of the ceremonies had grasped the situation, and setting
down the palanquin hurried into church, and expressing their
indignation by words and blows, endeavoured to drive out the crowd.
But as the church has nineteen large double doors this was no easy
matter, because as fast as they were driven out at one door they came
in at another. At length the church was cleared, and the much
disorganised procession went on its way. On its return, after an hour
or so, a good many Hindus again visited the church, in order to get a
better view of it than they had been able to secure amidst the crowd.

The sight of the people, solemnly dancing and clashing their cymbals
in the church, set one thinking as to the difficulties and problems
which the conversion of the villagers will give rise to. It is
purgatory to an Indian to sit still for any length of time. Outdoor
preachers have to adapt themselves to a congregation which is
continually changing. Very few can keep their attention for ten
minutes. An ordinary Evensong, with little variety of posture, is a
dreary exercise for a Hindu, and if he comes he seldom sits it out to
the end. The Christian Indian gets accustomed to it and learns to
appreciate it, but he rejoices in a procession, or in any ceremonial
which involves motion. If the solemn dance and clashing of cymbals
during the Magnificat could be allowed, the rustic Indian would enjoy
Evensong.

Father Bens