old man was appointed caretaker, and lived in
a frail hut in the midst of the wood. He cooked his dinner daily with
the help of a wild-looking, unclothed little daughter who shared his
humble home. They generally kindled their fire inside the hut, which
was made of most inflammable materials, and to judge by the clouds of
smoke which poured out through the coarse thatch at cooking time, the
operations were on rather a large scale. He also made a large bonfire
of refuse bits of wood outside his hut on cold nights, and there he
and a few friends would sit and toast themselves till a late hour.

This man was supposed to be paid by the month, but he told me that his
money was always doled out to him in small sums at irregular
intervals, and that he was never paid up to date. This is a common
custom to secure continuity of service. It would not matter if the
balance due was really given at the conclusion of the compact. But
this is rarely, if ever, done.

The old man watched the wood with exemplary fidelity for two years,
never absent from his post night or day, except for the briefest
possible visit to the bazaar at long intervals, to buy the few
necessities of his simple life. He then fell ill, and decided to give
up his job and return to his native village. But his employer only
gave him a portion of the final balance, on the plea that he must have
neglected his duty when he was unwell. He asked me to write a
certificate to the effect that he had stuck to his post all the time,
which I gladly did, but it was not likely to help his cause with his
heathen master.

This cheerful old man was an example of how happiness does not depend
on comfortable surroundings. The hut, which was of his own
manufacture, was of the most miserable description. Inside there was
literally only just space enough for himself and his little girl to
creep in and lie down. In the monsoon it was reduced to a pitiable
condition, the rain coming through like a sieve. The floor having
become mud, the old man was at last obliged to invest in a native
bedstead, which only costs about 8d. Having secured this luxury he was
quite content, and when he looked across at the Mission bungalow,
which, though homely enough, was a palace compared to his hut, I do
not suppose that he ever felt any wish to exchange residences.

The only thing that he could not bear was the tyranny of clothes, and
he wore even less than is usual in India. His chief joy was to sit a