PRINCETON, N. J. 
 
 6c fS t 
 
 Purchased by the Hammill Missionary Fund. 
 
 DS 421 .K85 1885 
 Kuppusv ami. 
 
 Every-day life in south 
 India, or, the story of 
 
POUNDING RICK. 
 
EVERY-DAY LIFE 
 
 IN SOUTH INDIA 
 
 OR 
 
 v/ 
 
 The Story of Coopooswamey 
 
 ^«tobto0rapljg 
 
 THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY 
 56, Paternoster Row; 65, St. Paul’s Churchyard 
 AND 164, Piccadilly 
 1885 . 
 

CONTENTS. 
 
 CHA1>. I’AGE 
 
 I. The Village of Poothoor — My Parents, and 
 
 SOME Reminiscences of my Childhood . . 9 
 
 II. My Uncle and Aunt in Coimbatore — An Idol 
 
 Procession — An Adventure .... 20 
 
 III. Education — The Village Schoolmaster ... 28 
 
 IV. Cholera 42 
 
 V. We go on Pilgrimage 54 
 
 VI. A Holy Mendicant— A Hindu Pope — Sacred 
 
 Ashes — The Temple and its Service . . 79 
 
 VH. My Friend Rungan — A Practical Joke — Perse- 
 cuting a Christian 97 
 
 VIII. Hindu Festivals — Meenatchy’s Married Life — 
 
 The Car Feast 109 
 
 IX. I Join the Coimbatore Mission School . . .127 
 
 X. Matrimonial Negotiations — Love and Marriage . 142 
 
 XL The Zenana Missionary visits Balambal — A Step- 
 mother — A Mother-in-Law ..... 164 
 
 XII. A Hindu Doctor — Death — Mourning — Cre- 
 mation 173 
 
 XIII. A Haunted House— Misery — I Gain a Situation 182 
 
6 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 XIV. Mission Life — Arrival of a Young Missionary — 
 
 Hindu Conversion 196 
 
 XV. Famine 208 
 
 XVI. I MAKE UP MY Mind and Receive Baptism — Methods 
 
 OF Work in India 219 
 
 XVII. Lazerus’s Courtship and Marriage . . . .227 
 
 XVIII. A Journey to Tanjore — Balambal’s Decision — 
 
 ^Married Life 235 
 
 XIX. Unsatisfactory Converts — A Serpent — A River 
 
 Festival 247 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Pounding Rice ....... Froiitispiece 
 
 Ploughing 9 
 
 A Hindu Beggar 49 
 
 A Bullock Cart 56 
 
 A Hindu Barber -72 
 
 Temple at Peroor 84 
 
 The God Ganesa 125 
 
 The God Sivan 155 
 
 Orphans Saved from the Famine 21 1 
 
 Orphan Girls 217 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 O NE evening, while conversing with Mr. Knox on the 
 verandah of his house in Coimbatore, he suddenly 
 asked me, ‘ Why don’t you write an account of your 
 life ? ’ I was surprised, and looking at my friend 
 inquiringly I said, ‘ You do me too much honour, sir. 
 There is little in my life that could interest any one ; 
 and I have not sufficient ability : I should not know 
 what to tell, and what to leave untold.’ 
 
 ‘ If you will only write what you have on various 
 occasions told to me, I am sure that not only will it 
 be interesting, but instructive also. Very little is known 
 of the home life of the Hindus. Books, learned 
 histories, treatises, essays on Indian politics, on myth- 
 ology, on antiquities, on the manners and customs of 
 the Brahrqins, and on other abstruse subjects, are 
 written and published, but very little is known of the 
 ordinary life of the people. Remember that what 
 is familiar and common place to you, is fresh and 
 interesting to us.’ 
 
 I protested that I was quite unfitted for the task, and 
 begged my friend to excuse me. 
 
8 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 ‘ You can at least do this/ said he. ‘ Write a complete 
 account of all that you can remember of your history 
 and experiences. Make it as picturesque and graphic 
 as you can. Recall and fill in all the conversations that 
 you can remember, and I will correct and arrange your 
 manuscript ; I will reject what seems to me unsuitable, 
 and if I can, from my own knowledge of the habits 
 and customs of the people, add anything to your 
 narrative that will make it more clear and acceptable 
 to British and American readers, I will do so.’ 
 
 To this proposal I agreed. Every week I brought 
 some sheets to Mr. Knox, which he afterwards read 
 to me with alterations and additions of his own ; and 
 then we criticised and corrected each other’s work. 
 
 In this way the present volume, like my life and 
 experiences which it records, grew. That it is not 
 without defects is to be expected ; but, as Mr. Knox 
 frequently assured me, that these imperfections will be 
 excused for the sake of the truth of the narrative, and 
 the correct picture of Hindu life that it gives, is my 
 modest hope. 
 
 COOPOOSWAMEY. 
 
PLOUGHING. 
 
 EYER¥-DAY LIFE IN SOOTH INDIA. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE VILLAGE OF POOTHOOR— M Y PARENTS, AND 
 SOME REMINISCENCES OF MY CHILDHOOD. 
 
 M y father was a well-to-do farmer in the village of 
 Poothoor, in the Madras Presidency, twenty-five 
 miles from the large and flourishing town of Coimbatore. 
 
 Poothoor is not a large village. It has one long, wide 
 street, with low tile-roofed houses, and a picturesque 
 irregular avenue of palm trees, that, growing in front 
 of each house, are watered daily by the women. It is in 
 
 9 
 
EVERY-DAY LI EE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 1 o 
 
 this street that the Brahmins live, and all day long they 
 are to be seen, with their white dress, their bare head 
 and shoulders, lounging about, and sitting cross-legged 
 on their verandahs chatting ; while the naked children 
 are playing in front, and the women, with their bright 
 silk garments, their hair smoothed with oil, and adorned 
 with jewels and flowers, pass and repass. 
 
 The part of the village where the cultivators live, and 
 where my father’s house stood, is without order. Each 
 house has a small cleanly-swept piece of ground in front, 
 and a courtyard behind, and these houses and courtyards 
 are separated from each other by narrow zigzag lanes. 
 As my father was one of the richest men in the village, 
 his house had a double story, and was built of brick, 
 with massive, deeply-carved doors. 
 
 Most of the houses in this part of the village are built 
 of mud and thatched with straw, and are ornamented 
 on the outside by perpendicular strips of red and white 
 paint. Some are lying deserted and in ruins. 
 
 Near the entrance to the village, on a stone platform, 
 under the leafy shade of a large tree, are the village 
 idols — one in the form of a bull, another the image of a 
 fat man with an elephant’s head, sitting on a rat,^and 
 three in the form of cobras, with head erect and 
 hood spread out, all black with oil, and adorned with 
 small patches of red paint, and occasionally with 
 garlands of flowers. In front of this tree is the village 
 tank, with its grand flights of granite steps, where the 
 villagers bathe and wash their clothes, and whither the 
 women come, morning and evening, with their bright 
 brass water vessels to draw water. A short distance 
 
I 
 
 MY FATHER. ii 
 
 beyond may be seen the huts of the pariahs, and in 
 another direction those of the despised, degraded leather 
 workers. 
 
 The village has its schoolmaster, doctor, goldsmith, 
 carpenter, barber, and washerman ; also a small open 
 shop, and a market place. 
 
 In describing the village, the dogs, donkeys, and pigs 
 should not be forgotten. Many of the donkeys, having 
 been made to carry the washerman’s load before they 
 were strong enough, have bent backs and twisted legs. 
 
 The black, long-snouted pigs are kept only by the 
 outcast pariahs and leather workers. They, along with 
 the donkeys, the dogs, and the huge unwieldy buffaloes, 
 are the chief scavengers of the village. 
 
 My father, who was tall, broad-shouldered, and mus- 
 cular, was not a bad specimen of a Hindu farmer. His 
 shoulders were a little bent, and he walked in his 
 leather sandals with a slightly slouching gait. His 
 dress consisted of three pieces of white cloth ; one 
 worn as a turban, the other thrown loosely over 
 his naked shoulders, and the third fastened round 
 his waist, and tucked up between his legs at his back 
 so as to fall in graceful folds over his thighs, to a little 
 below the knee. In the presence of a superior, he 
 would drop his upper cloth and leave his shoulders 
 bare. 
 
 He was fond of a laugh and a gossip, and had a 
 merry twinkle in his eyes ; yet his prevailing feelings 
 were inclined to melancholy. Every little disappoint- 
 ment and vexation weighed on his spirits, and he 
 surveyed the future with anxious, troubled thoughts. 
 
12 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 Much of his time was occupied, and his mind en- 
 gaged in petty village quarrels, in plotting against his 
 neighbours, or trying to circumvent their plots against 
 him. The village community presented no picture of 
 a happy family, but was eaten up with jealousy, envy, 
 and distrust. 
 
 Although bound to none around him by a single 
 tie of esteem or confidence, he yet never thought of 
 acting independently. He was but a wheel in a great 
 machine — never even in thought separating himself, his 
 interests, and his duties, from those of his class. What 
 they did he would do. When they adopted a new 
 course, so would he. 
 
 Although superstitious and faithful in the perform- 
 ance of religious duties, he had small respect either 
 for the priests or for the corrupt Hindu religion. He 
 enjoyed nothing better than a good story at the ex- 
 pense of the gods or the priests. His life was moral, 
 because he had no temptation, and if he told the truth 
 and acted honestly, it was because he saw no advantage 
 to be gained by an opposite course. 
 
 My mother, although younger than my father, looked 
 quite as old. She early lost the bloom and freshness 
 of womanhood. I was her second son, and sorrow for 
 the loss of her first-born had helped to injure her health. 
 My father rarely spoke to her, except to give her a 
 command or a rebuke. She was capricious, and often 
 very provoking, like a showery day, now all smiles, 
 then frowns and tears. If thwarted or crossed in her 
 humour, she would sulk whole days together. Instead 
 of listening with attention and sympathy when my 
 
A TERRIBLE DANGER. 
 
 13 
 
 father talked to her, she would turn round, address 
 an order to a servant or fuss about something near 
 her. She usually objected to everything he proposed, 
 and would, as a rule, only agree to his plans after she had 
 been argued and scolded into compliance. I have seen 
 my father, when reproaches and scolding failed to drive 
 her from a bad humour, take a cane and beat her 
 soundly. 
 
 My earliest recollections are talks that I had with 
 my mother. One that I remember well was about my 
 curious name of Coopooswamey — the meaning of which 
 is ‘manure-god.’ ‘Your brother,’ my mother told me, 
 ‘ died in infancy, five years before you were born. The 
 astrologer said that some god or demon was jealous, 
 and when you were born he told us that the only way 
 to save your life would be to avert the envy of the god 
 by giving you an ugly name. You were taken outside 
 the house and laid on the dung-heap. Your nose was 
 pierced, and the little silver ring that you now wear was 
 inserted. The astrologer who drew your horoscope told 
 us that you would be exposed to a great danger in your 
 youth, and that if you escaped that your life afterwards 
 would be prosperous.’ 
 
 ‘ Did his words come true?’ I asked. 
 
 ‘Yes,’ replied my mother. ‘Once, when you were 
 about two years old, you gave me a terrible fright. I 
 left you playing by the side of the hedge in front of the 
 house, and when I went to call you, I saw to my horror 
 a large cobra winding itself round your body and under 
 your legs. You were laughing and crowing, and touch- 
 ing its glistening skin with your chubby hands. The 
 
4 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 serpent seemed pleased with your warmth, and with 
 your gentle, childish way of touching it By a terrible 
 effort I kept from screaming. I knew that if I made a 
 noise or any sudden movement the snake would pro- 
 bably fix its fangs in you, and you would be dead 
 in a few hours. I kept quite still, and at length the 
 cobra observing me, quickly glided into the hedge. 
 Then my screams broke forth as I rushed and caught 
 you in my arms and pressed you to my bosom. The 
 people came running to know what was the matter. 
 When I told them they raised their hands in wonder.’ 
 
 ‘ Did any one kill the snake ? ’ I asked. 
 
 ‘ Kill the snake ! ’ replied my mother. ‘ We could 
 not do that. It was a god that had come to bless you. 
 Even the shadow of a cobra falling on any one is a good 
 omen. How lucky, then, did we consider you, that the 
 god had even embraced and fondled you ! ’ 
 
 ‘ Is that why you so often go to the snake hole near 
 the house with offerings of eggs, camphor, and other 
 things ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes,’ replied my mother ; ‘I have hardly missed a 
 day in visiting the place where I saw the serpent dis- 
 appear. Sometimes I break some cocoanuts there, and 
 sacrifice a fowl in honour of the god that was so gracious 
 to you.’ 
 
 Until four years old I was allowed to run about 
 naked, my only covering, if covering they could be 
 called, being the jewels, the gold earrings and brace- 
 lets, the silver anklets and silver waist chain, with which 
 I was adorned. 
 
 My father’s house, as I have said, was one of the best 
 
GAMES. 
 
 ^5 
 
 in the village. It was constructed in such a way that all 
 the rooms opened into a central hall, a miniature court- 
 yard. The tiled roof sloped inwards on four sides, like a 
 square funnel inverted, leaving a square opening in the 
 middle, through which light and air, the rain in wet 
 weather, and the crows in all weathers, were freely 
 admitted. The roof on the inside, not being bounded 
 by walls, was supported by wooden pillars. A narrow 
 passage led to the hall from the outside, which, with this 
 exception, communicated only with the sky. It was in 
 this hall that, without any covering, I slept on a grass 
 mat, on the mud floor. 
 
 Sometimes in the early morning, and especially in the 
 rainy or winter season, when the older people in the 
 house drew their large white sheets closely around them, 
 I used to feel cold ; but no one took much notice of me. 
 My father would say, ‘ Children and the legs of a stool 
 don’t feel cold,’ and he would send me out into the sun- 
 shine, telling me that that would warm me. Except in 
 the middle of the day, when every living creature seeks 
 the shade, and when many, tired with their work in the 
 fields, or with their household occupations, in which they 
 had been engaged since sunrise, enjoy the refreshment 
 of a midday sleep, it was my delight to crawl about in 
 the sand, and bask in the sun. Sometimes I played with 
 the village children at shop-keeping. With small stones 
 for money, and sand for articles of merchandise, we 
 bought and sold fruits, grains, betel nuts, and tobacco. 
 
 With a staff and a small hole in the ground, we 
 imitated the women in pounding rice. We flew kites 
 spun tops, and played at marbles. One of our favourite 
 
if) EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 games was to perform worship. We put a little stone 
 on the ground, imitated the ceremony by which the 
 Brahmin priests suppose they bring the spirit of the god 
 into his stone image, then we prostrated ourselves before 
 our idol, and offered to it pebbles, leaves, and small 
 pieces of wood. 
 
 Once a week I was bathed in oil, a most refreshing 
 operation. The oil was rubbed over me and washed off 
 with hot water and vegetable soap. Sometimes, all wet 
 and glittering with oil, I was allowed to trot about 
 for a while in the sun. 
 
 It was not till I was three years old that I was 
 weaned ; although long previous to that I ate freely of 
 rice cakes, butter-milk, curry and rice, fruits and sweet- 
 meats. 
 
 In all the forms of politeness and the rules of caste I 
 was carefully trained. When any one took notice of me, 
 or gave me a gift of sugar-cane or other sweetmeat, my 
 mother would say, ‘ Make salaam, make salaam.’ I was 
 taught to fold my arms, and look modestly, either 
 on the ground or a little on one side, when I was 
 addressing a superior. 
 
 One of my chief pleasures as a child was to watch the 
 women trim and light the little saucer lamps in front of 
 the idols. 
 
 Everywhere in India there are idols ; on every high 
 hill and under every green tree. In the temples a light 
 is kept constantly burning in front of the god. By the 
 roadsides, also on the banks of rivers and tanks, there are 
 little earthenware shrines and niches for these saucer 
 lamps. Pious women nightly replenish, trim, and light 
 
IDOL WORSHIP. 
 
 7 
 
 them, and on festivals the shrines are ablaze with the 
 twinkling lights. 
 
 ‘ What is the use of lighting the lamps every night ? 
 Does the god need the light to see with?’ I asked my 
 mother once. 
 
 ‘ Little boys should not ask questions,’ she replied. 
 
 It is the custom; is not that enough? Our pious 
 ancestors used to do this, and we must do it too.’ 
 
 This reply did not quite satisfy me, so, after thinking 
 the matter over for a long time, I ventured to ask my 
 father. I was a great favourite with him. For hours 
 together, sitting on the verandah, conversing with grave 
 village eldens, he would fondle me in his arms, and keep 
 me lying in his lap. Very rarely, indeed never unless 
 greatly provoked, did he chastise me. He would often 
 speak threateningly, and raise his hand as if to strike, 
 but I knew that it was a mere pretence. 
 
 He was sitting alone after supper, smoking a cigar, 
 consisting of a green leaf rolled into a cone and filled 
 with tobacco. The air was deliciously soft and balmy, 
 and the full moon shed a silver radiance wherever its 
 beams fell. 
 
 ‘ Sir,’ said I, ‘ why do the women light the little 
 lamps in front of the gods every night ? ’ 
 
 ‘ In order to get merit,’ he replied. 
 
 ‘ Do the gods need the lights to see with ? ’ I , 
 asked. 
 
 ‘ I don’t know/ said he. ‘It is a custom handed 
 down by our forefathers.’ 
 
 ‘ That is what mother told me.’ 
 
 ‘ Have you been speaking to her about it?’ 
 
 /I 
 
1 8 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 ‘Yes; but I was not satisfied with what she said; 
 and I thought you could tell me something more.’ 
 
 He took two or three puffs of his green leaf cigar, 
 and then said — 
 
 ‘You must not inquire too much about these things ; 
 you will only trouble your mind ; but, since you have 
 asked me, I can tell you a little more. There is a verse 
 in one of the Puranas which says : “ If any one goes 
 to the temple of Siva — the bestower of benefits — and 
 walking round the right side thereof, lights even one 
 lamp, made of clarified cow’s butter and a thread from the 
 stalk of the lotus plant, he will escape the curse of trans- 
 migration, and obtain heavenly bliss. The god knows 
 those who light the holy lamp, and their sins perish.” ’ 
 
 ‘ Only a few of the women light the holy lamps. 
 Why do they not all do it?’ I inquired. 
 
 ‘ Many are careless about these things,’ said he. 
 
 ‘ Perhaps they do something else to obtain the god’s 
 favour. Do you think that if I were to light one of the 
 lamps in the front of the god that he would do me 
 some good ?’ 
 
 ‘ Oh yes ; we ought not to doubt it. I can tell you 
 a story to show you that. In one of the sacred books 
 it is said that, once upon a time, in the middle of the 
 night, the lamp in one of Siva’s temples was about to 
 go out, the wick having burnt down to the oil. Just 
 then, a rat that came to drink the oil pulled the wick, 
 so that the lamp burned brightly. Siva, seeing this, was 
 so glad that he appeared to the rat, and transformed it 
 into a mighty emperor, to rule over the three worlds — 
 heaven, earth, and the abyss. In this way the rat was 
 
I/O IF A RAT BECAME A KING. 
 
 19 
 
 born on the earth as a great king, and ruled the three 
 worlds.’ 
 
 ‘How wonderful!’ said I; ‘but many people light 
 the lamps, and they never see the god.’ 
 
 ‘Now, now, that will do; I cannot talk to you any 
 more on these matters. It is late ; go and lie down.’ 
 
 So saying, my father dismissed me, and I went and 
 lay down on my mat in a corner of the hall. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 MY UNCLE AND AUNT IN COIMBATORE— AN IDOL 
 PROCESSION— AN ADVENTURE. 
 
 M y father’s only sister being married to a gentleman 
 in Coimbatore who held a good appointment as 
 clerk in the collector’s office there, I was often taken 
 to see them. My uncle was, like my father, a tall man 
 with large features ; and, although somewhat irritable in 
 temper, he usually spoke with a certain deliberation. He 
 was shrewd and straightforward, and, while not lacking 
 in politeness, he seldom hesitated to express his honest 
 thought. It was his straightforwardness and honesty — 
 virtues so rare among Hindus — that had gained for him 
 the confidence of his superiors, and the position of trust 
 which he held in the office. 
 
 My aunt was one of the best women I have ever 
 known. She was thoughtful and wise, kind and patient. 
 My father had a great love and respect for her, and also 
 for her husband, so that there was no family with which 
 we had more frequent and familiar intercourse. 
 
 On one occasion when I was staying with them, one 
 of the gods was brought in procession past the front of 
 
 my uncle’s house. The priests, musicians, and dancing 
 
 20 
 
IDOL PROCESSION. 
 
 21 
 
 women, and a great crowd of people accompanied it. 
 My uncle and aunt, as soon as the god, elevated on a 
 platform and adorned with flowers, reached their door, 
 went out and gave to one of the priests an offering of 
 flowers and fruits. 
 
 In the midst of the noise and confusion, a man, whom 
 I recognised as the brother of my uncle’s bullock driver, 
 stooped down to me, offered me sweetmeats, and in a 
 kind voice said : ‘ My darling, my beloved, all are going 
 with the god in procession. Come, I will carry you on 
 my shoulders.’ 
 
 Nothing loth, I mounted on to his naked shoulder, and 
 with my hand on his head, one leg in front of his breast, 
 and the other behind his back, I looked over the heads 
 of the people at the show. It was a bright and animated 
 spectacle. The god, not very beautiful in itself, a black 
 oily idol, was covered with flowers and jewels ; the temple 
 women, decked with ornaments and clad in bright silk, 
 were moving in a rhythmical and graceful manner, and 
 looking about in a bold, unconstrained way. The priests, 
 in white flowing garments, were receiving the offerings 
 of the people, and the crowd that followed and pressed 
 round the god presented a moving mass of bare heads 
 and naked shoulders interspersed by a few turbaned and 
 well-clad people. 
 
 My bearer carried me a few yards, turned into a 
 narrow bye-street, and set me down, saying : ‘ The 
 procession is coming through that street : let us go this 
 way and meet the god there.’ 
 
 At the end of the lane another man came behind, and, 
 in spite of my cries and struggles, stripped me of my 
 
2 2 EVERY-DAV LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 gold bracelet and necklace. They tried to pull off my 
 gold ring, but I kicked and struggled so much, and the 
 ring fitted so tight, that they could not get it off. Seeing 
 some one coming, they ran away and left me. It was 
 about eight o’clock in the evening, and darkness had set 
 in. As I went along, sobbing aloud, unable to find my 
 way home, afraid of snakes and robbers and evil spirits, 
 Babu, the son of a dancing girl who knew my uncle, 
 met me. 
 
 ‘ What is the matter with you ? ’ he asked. ‘ Who 
 brought you here ? Why are you cr}dng ? Don’t cry ; ’ 
 and taking me by the hand, he led me to his mother’s 
 house. 
 
 ‘ I found him on the road crying and sobbing, and 
 when I asked him what was wrong, he did not tell me, 
 said Babu to his mother. 
 
 Dancing girls are the only women in India that are 
 not allowed to marry. Although attached to the temple, 
 taking part in almost all the services, and called ‘ the 
 servants of the god,’ they, in private, follow a profession 
 which in every country is looked on with abhorrence. 
 
 It being necessary for them to be able to learn the 
 songs which they sing while dancing, they were, till 
 recently, the only women in India who learned to read ; 
 and in going into a girls’ school to-day it would often be 
 found that all the pupils belong to this class, care not 
 having been taken to exclude them, and respectable 
 people naturally refusing to allow their daughters to 
 associate with them. 
 
 They form a distinct and hereditary class. Their sons 
 are usually trained as musicians, and their daughters, if 
 
MY BRACELET IS GONE. 
 
 23 
 
 sufficiently beautiful, as dancing girls. Their ranks are 
 constantly recruited from other castes, it being not 
 uncommon for a mother, if disappointed by the early 
 death of her children, to seek to propitiate the god by 
 vowing her next female child to the service of the 
 temple. 
 
 Engaged, as these women are, in the services of the 
 temples, and occupying a recognised social position, they 
 are regarded with a certain amount of respect. Their 
 free, open, unrestrained life gives to many of them a 
 dignity and frank unconsciousness of manner, which 
 contrast favourably with the immodest shyness of most 
 other Hindu and Mohammedan women. The dancing 
 girl in whose house I was took me on her knee, wiped 
 my eyes with one end of her cloth, and spoke soothingly 
 to me. 
 
 ‘Have you had your food?’ she inquired. I muttered 
 indistinctly that I had not taken any food, and that I 
 had been carried by my bullock driver’s younger brother^ 
 while the god was being taken in procession. 
 
 ‘Where is your bracelet?’ said she suddenly, in an 
 agitated tone. ‘ It was a gold one ; has any one taken it 
 from you ?’ 
 
 I looked at my hands, and noticing that the bracelet 
 was gone, I told her that it had probably slipped off. 
 She gave me a tumbler of milk, of which I drank a little, 
 and cried to be taken home. 
 
 Ordering her horse carriage, she at once set out with 
 me and Babu on the way to my uncle’s house. 
 
 Meanwhile my aunt, an hour after she had given the 
 offering to the god, called all the children for supper- 
 
24 
 
 EVERY-DAY LI EE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 Her two sons and her eldest daughter came in, and 
 when she did not see me with them she asked where I 
 was. 
 
 ‘ He must be sleeping upstairs,’ said her daughter ; 
 
 ‘ we have not seen him since the procession passed.’ 
 
 She ran up to look for me, but finding no one there 
 except her youngest daughter, Balambal, who was sleep- 
 ing on the floor, she thought that I must have gone with 
 her husband, who had followed the procession. When 
 at length he returned alone, she asked him where I was. 
 
 ‘ Why do you ask me ?’ he said, greatly alarmed. ‘ I 
 did not see him. I followed the procession alone. How 
 can I tell you where he is ? ’ 
 
 ‘What shall I do?’ cried my aunt. ‘ He was here a 
 few minutes ago. I thought he had gone with you. 
 Who can have taken him away?’ 
 
 ‘ Wait a little,’ said my uncle. ‘ Don’t distress your- 
 self till we search for him, and see whether he can be 
 found or not. He cannot be very far away. He will 
 come back all right’ 
 
 My uncle then ran out and asked every one if they had 
 seen me. An old woman who lived in the next house 
 said that she saw me standing in front of her door when 
 the god passed. 
 
 A shopman said that he saw some one, whom he 
 thought at the time to be one of our servants, carrying 
 me on his shoulder. 
 
 ‘What shall I do?’ cried my aunt, when she heard 
 the result of these inquiries. ‘I brought him up as 
 tenderly as a parrot. What shall I say to his parents ? 
 I do not care so much for the jewels he was wearing. 
 
THE DANCING WOMAN QUESTIONED. 25 
 
 I shall be satisfied if I can only find him. What am 
 I to do ? Whom can I ask ? Where am I to search 
 for him in the night ? ’ 
 
 She ordered one of her servants to light a lantern, 
 and, with her husband and three servants, she went to 
 report the matter at the police-station. 
 
 She got four constables to aid her, and dividing them 
 into three parties — the first consisting of a constable 
 and a servant, the second of herself, another servant, 
 and a constable, and the third of my uncle and two 
 constables — sent them to search diligently the three 
 streets near her house, telling the policemen to blow 
 their whistle whenever they should find me. She her- 
 self met me, driving with the dancing girl and her 
 son Babu. 
 
 Overjoyed, she caught me in her arms, covered me 
 with kisses, and asked me where I had been. I began 
 to cry, but spoke nothing. The constable, taking out 
 of his pocket a note-book and pencil, and with the air 
 of importance that such men like to put on, asked the 
 dancing girl who she was, whose child I was, how she 
 got possession of me, where we were going at that time 
 of night, what her name was, and bade her give a true 
 account of all these particulars. 
 
 ‘What!’ said the dancing girl, ‘you speak very 
 authoritatively. Perhaps you do not know who I am. 
 Do not be so rash, or you may lose the uniform you 
 seem so proud of.’ 
 
 My aunt, becoming suspicious of the dancing girl, 
 took me aside, told me to stop crying, and tell where I 
 had been, and who took me away. 
 
2 6 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 I answered, weeping and with faltering lips, that 
 while I was sitting in the verandah of the house, 
 Babii took me up and carried me to his mother’s 
 house. 
 
 This falsehood of mine, which, with the lazy in- 
 difference to truth so common among the Hindus, I 
 told, confirmed my aunt’s suspicions ; so she at once 
 ordered the constable to blow his whistle. 
 
 ‘ You vile woman,’ said the policeman to the 
 dancing girl, ‘ arc you so bold ? I will soon teach 
 
 you. What if you are a rich woman? You did not 
 give me a proper answer ; so come down out of 
 your carriage, and go with me to the police- 
 station.’ He blew his whistle, and the others answered 
 him. 
 
 ‘ Why should I leave my carriage and go to the 
 police-station ? What have I done ? Do you think I 
 stole the child’s jewels?’ 
 
 ‘ Yes,’ said the constable. ‘ It is evident that you are 
 the thief. If we had not found you, you would have 
 taken the child and thrown him into some well. 
 I believe you were taking him somewhere for that 
 very purpose. Don’t try to deceive me with your 
 cunning.’ 
 
 The dancing girl began to weep and protest ; a great 
 crowd collected, and, all together, we went to the police- 
 station, where the dancing girl, her son Babu, and her 
 coachman were searched. 
 
 At length, being strictly questioned, I told who had 
 taken me away, and how the dancing girl had found 
 me. She was honourably acquitted ; and the jewels 
 
THE THIEF DISCOVERED. 
 
 27 
 
 being found in the thief’s house, he was convicted, and 
 sentenced to three years’ imprisonment. 
 
 My uncle and aunt were so overjoyed at getting me 
 and the lost jewels safely back again that they forgot 
 to punish me for the lie I told. During the re- 
 mainder of my stay I was never again allowed to go 
 out alone. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 EDUCATION— THE VILLAGE SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 T six years of age I was sent to the village school. 
 
 This step was not taken without a good deal of 
 discussion, and some opposition. 
 
 My father was strong for education, but my father’s 
 brother, who lived in the same house with us, and shared 
 the farm, thought that I should be brought up as a 
 farmer, and that education was of little value. 
 
 ‘ What is the use of sending the boy to school ? ’ 
 my uncle would say. ‘ A farmer needs no book-learn- 
 ing. Let him learn to manage his farm, and he will do 
 well enough. If he has a letter to write, which need 
 not occur more than once or twice in a lifetime, he can 
 get the village accountant to write it for him. If he 
 should wish to know the sacred books, there are plenty 
 of strolling beggars to recite them to him. Sending 
 him to school will only weaken his health, fill his head 
 with conceit, and unfit him for his work and his position 
 in life. Book-learning, in my experience, breeds nothing 
 but discontent and idleness.’ 
 
 ‘ I don’t agree at all to what you say,’ my father 
 would reply, with some heat, ‘ and I am very sorry that 
 
 28 
 
THE SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
 29 
 
 you should talk like that before the child. Why should 
 he be nothing but a farmer ? He need not work in 
 the fields himself. If he can succeed in passing an 
 examination in English, he will be qualified for a post 
 under Government. Perhaps before I die I may see 
 him a village magistrate, or even a Tasildar.’ 
 
 These talks were often renewed, and were carried 
 on with much spirit. My mother entirely sympathised 
 with the ambitious views of her husband. She had 
 shrewdness enough to see that the only path to any 
 position of influence or consideration, either in our 
 own village or elsewhere, was through education. 
 Neither she nor my father valued it in the least degree 
 for its own sake, as a means of training the mind and 
 acquiring knowledge, but simply as the only way of 
 getting on in the world. One day, when my father 
 and uncle and two or three others were discussing and 
 chatting together, Runga Rao, the village schoolmaster, 
 joined the group on the verandah. His face was far 
 from prepossessing, and was too true an index of his 
 character. He had a habit of knitting his brows over 
 his small twinkling eyes, which made them look as if 
 deeper in his head than they really were. He had 
 high cheek-bones, a hooked nose, and sharp lips ; and 
 he seldom looked you straight in the face, but would 
 turn his head a little to one side, and glance at you 
 from the corners of his eyes. One could seldom be 
 certain in an important matter whether he were express- 
 ing his own opinions or not. He seemed always to 
 be considering, not what was the truth in the matter, 
 but what, in the circumstances, it would be prudent to 
 
EVERY-BAV LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 say. He was a Hindu of the old school, — devotedly 
 attached to the old state of things, which, with much 
 grief and vexation, he saw passing away. He was a 
 bigot in religion, and was almost the only man in the 
 village who stood up for Hinduism in all its forms. 
 
 ‘ How do you do, Runga Rao ? You are looking dull 
 to-day. The draught does not trouble you, does it ? ’ 
 said my father, greeting him by raising his folded hands 
 to his breast. 
 
 ‘ There are worse things than draught,’ said the 
 schoolmaster. 
 
 ‘Has your wife presented you with a daughter?’ 
 said my uncle. 
 
 ‘ No, not that either ; although that would be bad 
 enough,’ replied Runga Rao. 
 
 ‘ Speaking of that,’ said my father, ‘ you know 
 Periah Swamy. I met him to-day looking very 
 dejected. His family are all girls, and he has just 
 had another. Guess you what he said.’ 
 
 ‘ What was it ? ’ 
 
 ‘ What great sin have I committed that I should 
 have another daughter?’ 
 
 ‘ Poor man ! ’ said my uncle, laughing. ‘ He is to be 
 pitied. The cost of their marriages will ruin him.’ 
 
 ‘ I have seen one of these new-fangled deputy in- 
 spectors of schools to-day,’ said the Brahmin. ‘He 
 had the impudence to tell me that my school was old- 
 fashioned — that it was behind the age ; and he advised 
 me to send my son to Coimbatore to be trained in the 
 Normal School.’ 
 
 ‘ What did you say to him ?’ asked my father. 
 
THE EVILS OF EDUCATION. 
 
 31 
 
 ‘ I told him that what was good enough for our 
 forefathers was good enough for us — that I could do 
 without a Government grant, if I must leave the good 
 old customs to get it.’ 
 
 ‘ These new notions are spreading very fast,’ said 
 my uncle. 
 
 ‘ Since Aya Pillay got his B.A. degree, two or three 
 other lads have been seized with the same mania. 
 They will have nothing but an English education. 
 For my part, I don’t see what a farmer wants with 
 education at all.’ 
 
 ‘There I don’t agree with you,’ said my father. ‘If 
 a man can’t read and check his own accounts and title- 
 deeds, he is at the mercy of those who can, and who 
 may put anything they like in the paper they make 
 him sign. I should have been cheated often if I had 
 not known how to read and do accounts.’ 
 
 ‘ There is a good deal in that,’ said the schoolmaster, 
 ‘ and that is just what I teach ; but what is the use of all 
 this high English education ? What good does it do ? 
 It is all very well for those who can get Government 
 employment ; but they are only one in ten. They 
 come back from their college to the village, and sneer 
 at everything around them.’ 
 
 ‘They get just enough education to make them 
 proud and discontented with their position,’ said my 
 uncle. 
 
 ‘ I met one of these graduates the other day,’ continued 
 the schoolmaster, ‘ and I asked him to tell me what 
 good this education ’’was doing. He said that it was 
 the only way of getting a Government appointment.’ 
 
EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 ‘Is there any benefit besides that?’ I asked. He 
 tried hard to mention some, but completely failed. I 
 then asked him to tell me some of its evils, and I was 
 surprised to see how quickly and easily he could enume- 
 rate the evils, although he could say nothing on the 
 other side.’ 
 
 ‘ I have noticed,’ said my uncle, ‘ that these men who 
 spend ten or twelve years in acquiring all their learning 
 make very little use of it afterwards. They pore over 
 their books before an examination, and afterwards pitch 
 them all away.’ 
 
 ‘We interrupted you,’ said my father to the school- 
 master. ‘ Tell us what evils he mentioned.’ 
 
 ‘ He said,’ replied the schoolmaster, ‘ that this high 
 education enables men to do more evil than they could 
 otherwise do.’ 
 
 ‘ Makes stupid rogues clever ones,’ I said. 
 
 ‘ Yes, that is what it does,’ he replied. 
 
 ‘ Again, it makes men discontented. Instead of doing 
 any work, they simply grumble against the Government 
 and everything around them. It does not qualify them 
 for any business or profession. It frees them from reli- 
 gious restraint, destroys their faith in their own religion, 
 and leaves them quite indifferent to every other; so that 
 they practise without compunction many vices that they 
 would otherwise have been afraid to commit.’ 
 
 ‘ Your friend was at least candid,’ said my father. ‘ It 
 is true that many of these men fail to obtain the em- 
 ployment they desire, and therefore become discon- 
 tented, but they are not idler than others who have had 
 no education. See how many in every village lounge 
 
THE VILLAGE SCHOOL. 
 
 33 
 
 about doing nothing. They are, indeed, somewhat con- 
 tented with their life ; they don’t grumble and complain 
 so much as those who have passed examinations ; but 
 it is just because they have no hope or expectation of 
 rising out of their position. I have been thinking of 
 sending my son to your school’ 
 
 ‘ I shall be glad to receive him. How old is he ? ’ 
 
 ‘ He was six years old last March. I will consult the 
 astrologer as to a propitious day for his commencing his 
 studies, and then I will bring him to you.’ 
 
 ‘ Very good ; do so,’ said Runga Rao. 
 
 The village school in which Runga Rao, in an old- 
 fashioned way, strove to impart the rudiments of learning 
 to his pupils, was held in an open shed near the temple. 
 Underneath the tiled roof and dingy rafters, tfiick with 
 dust and cobwebs, sat the scholars cross-legged on the 
 earthen floor. On the back wall of the shed was a stone 
 on which the image of the belly god was carved, and the 
 only articles of furniture in the school were the grass mat 
 on which Runga Rao sat, the small desk, one foot high, in 
 which he kept the school register, and the cane with 
 which he administered chastisement. As a young, 
 unbroken colt gazes wistfully at the sober cart-horses 
 harnessed and tamed to their task, and then, in the 
 exuberance of life and freedom, snorts and bounds 
 away, often had I looked into the open school-shed, 
 and with careless awe and wondering anticipation 
 listened to the hum and roar of the boys shouting their 
 lessons and committing them to memory. 
 
 Before introducing me to Runga Rao and placing me 
 under his care, my father took me to the temple. Passing 
 
 C 
 
34 EVERY-DAY LIRE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 through the massive gates into the temple courtyard, 
 with its high, strong stone wall, we ascended the steps of 
 the temple proper, and stood under its gloomy roof in 
 front of the god. After prostrating himself in worship, 
 my father, with the tears streaming down his cheeks, 
 stood up and prayed. 
 
 ‘ O god Subramonien, grant to my son, whom you 
 have so graciously given to me, long life and the blessing 
 of education.’ 
 
 ‘ Pray,’ said he, turning to me ; ‘ pray for health and 
 the riches of knowledge.’ 
 
 I folded my hands, and joined my requests to his. 
 
 Two days after, we went again to the temple with an 
 offering of rice, money, plantain fruits, betel nut, and 
 flowers. Other boys, with their parents, were also 
 present. 
 
 The priest, with an iron style, wrote the letters of the 
 alphabet on three palmyra leaves, which, with other 
 blank leaves, were tied together by a string. They were 
 to be gradually written upon, and were to serve as my 
 lesson book. Taking the gifts and palmyra books from 
 all the boys, the priest placed them in front of the idol, 
 and while we all prostrated ourselves he performed 
 worship on our behalf, and invoked the favour of the 
 god on those of us who were about to go to school for 
 the first time. He then pronounced the letters that he 
 had written in our book, and caused us all to recite 
 them together after him. Thus my first public lesson 
 was given to me by the priest before the god in the 
 temple. 
 
 ‘ Master,’ said my father next morning to Runga Rao, 
 
A BAJ^GAIN. 
 
 35 
 
 as we presented ourselves before him in front of his 
 school-shed, ‘ I have brought the pupil I promised you.’ 
 
 The boys now shouted their lessons with increased 
 energy, to show how diligent they were. 
 
 ‘ Silence ! Sit down all,’ said the master. 
 
 The boys dropped down cross-legged on the floor, and 
 chatted to one another in an undertone. 
 
 ‘ The knowing man,’ said Runga Rao, ‘ is the strong 
 man. Does your son know any letters ? ’ 
 
 ‘ According to my ability I have taught him a little, 
 but he does not know much,’ replied my father. ‘ I 
 expect him to make good progress under your care. 
 You must open his eyes.’ 
 
 ‘ By the favour of the gods we will do what we can,’ 
 said the Brahmin. ‘You are a rich man; you must give 
 me good pay.’ 
 
 ‘ I a rich man ! ’ exclaimed my father. ‘ See how 
 many I have to support. My son’s marriage must be 
 celebrated before long ; and you know how much that 
 will cost.’ 
 
 ‘ I am very poor,’ replied the teacher. ‘ I must eat 
 the plainest food. My income is not sufficient for my 
 support.’ 
 
 ‘ I’ll tell you what I will do,’ said my father; ‘when 
 my son can read the story of Nulla, I will give you 
 twenty-five rupees, two valuable cloths, and a cow.’ 
 
 ‘ Won’t you give me a monthly fee besides ? ’ 
 
 ‘ No ; but my son will take to you the usual presents 
 on Saturdays and feast days. What do the other boys 
 give ? ’ 
 
 ‘ On the Deebavali feast each boy brings me two 
 
36 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 cloths ; on the tool feast, a cloth or a jewel, or a gift 
 of money ; at harvest time some fruit and grain ; every 
 Saturday one piece of firewood, one betel nut, one pie 
 (a small copper coin), and a little oil.’ 
 
 ‘ That’s a good deal ; you ought to live well on that. 
 Take good care of my son. Don’t beat his eyes, but 
 beat him anywhere else as much as you like. I shall 
 now take leave,’ said my father. 
 
 ‘ I will do the best I can for the boy,’ said Runga 
 Rao. ‘ He seems a bright, intelligent lad ; go now, and 
 come again.’ 
 
 My father, thus dismissed, made a respectful salaam 
 and departed. I stood with folded arms in front of the 
 master. 
 
 ‘ Go and sit over there,’ said he to me, ‘ and Samiah 
 will give you a lesson.’ 
 
 The Brahmin boy beside whom I sat down, making 
 a smooth surface with the palm of his hand in some 
 clean sand, wrote four letters with his finger, and caused 
 me to say them after him. Then he showed me how 
 to smooth the sand and form the letters for myself. 
 
 The other boys, of whom there were about thirty, 
 were all this time shouting their lessons, almost ‘ as 
 loud as they could bawl,’ the teacher, in a sing-song 
 voice, reading a sentence, and the boys shouting it 
 after him. 
 
 This went on till they could say that sentence cor- 
 rectly and rapidly, when another sentence was treated 
 in the same way. 
 
 In the midst of this hubbub, my attention was at- 
 tracted to Samiah, who, sitting a little behind the 
 
A PUNISHMENT. 
 
 37 
 
 master, was amusing himself by thrusting a straw into 
 the holes of the large black ants in the mud floor. When 
 an ant seized hold of the straw he pulled it out, and 
 with the knife attached to his style cut off its head, 
 saying, ‘ I sacrifice thee, as a he-goat, to the goddess of 
 learning.’ 
 
 Runga Rao, suddenly turning round to look for his 
 cane, caught Samiah in the very act of cutting off the 
 head of one of the ants. 
 
 ‘You rascal! What is that you are about ? Killing 
 the ants in that wanton manner 1 Do you wish, in your 
 next birth, to be an ant yourself, and have your own 
 head cut off? For such a sin as that you may have to 
 suffer in many future births. You may be born as a dog, 
 and have to live on a dung-hill and eat offal, or as a 
 donkey and carry the washerman’s load and suffer his 
 beatings. But I’ll lessen your future sufferings by 
 inflicting on you a slight punishment now. Stand up, 
 keep your legs straight. Bend down and take hold of 
 your big toes. Remain in that position till I tell you 
 to rise.’ 
 
 The poor boy, in a slow and sulky manner, did as he 
 was told, and remained in that painful position till his 
 back and legs ached. 
 
 The instruction we received in Runga Rao’s school 
 was as poor and unsatisfactory as it could well be. 
 Nothing was ever explained to us. We repeated our 
 lessons like parrots, all shouting at the same time. We 
 learned to read nothing except what was thus, by constant 
 repetition, fixed in our memory. If any one had asked 
 us to tell the meaning or purport of what we read, we 
 
38 EVERY-DAY LIRE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 should have looked at him with astonishment. It never 
 occurred to us to think or inquire what the meaning 
 was. 
 
 Once, during the visit of my cousin Balambal and her 
 mother, with whom I stayed in Coimbatore when I lost 
 my gold bracelet, I overheard my father telling how 
 well I could read. I joined the group, and Balambal, 
 who was younger than I, took one of my books and put 
 it into my hand. Proud of what I considered my ability, 
 I read a little. 
 
 ‘ That is wrong,’ said Balambal ; ‘ you made a mis- 
 take.’ She had been reading for some time in the 
 mission girls’ school in Coimbatore. 
 
 Annoyed and angry at being corrected by a girl, I 
 said, ‘ What I have read is quite right’ 
 
 ‘ No, it is not,’ she replied ; ‘ give the book to me, and 
 I will read it’ 
 
 She took the book, pointed out the mistake, and read 
 the passage fluently and correctly. I had nothing to say 
 except, ‘ That’s how the teacher told me to read it.’ 
 
 My father and his sister swayed backwards and for- 
 wards, roaring with laughter. 
 
 Runga Rao was irregular in his attendance, and care- 
 less in his work. When we failed to repeat our lessons, 
 he would get into a furious rage, and beat us unmerci- 
 fully. He would make us rise up from the floor and sit 
 down again a great many times, or cause us to hang by 
 the hands from a beam across the roof. Sometimes he 
 would make two boys, who both deserved punishment, 
 beat each other on the head till he told them to stop. 
 
 In order to learn well and escape these inflictions, two 
 
IVORSHIP. 
 
 39 
 
 of my companions and I made pnjah (worship) one day 
 to the goddess of learning. Having bought in the 
 bazaar rice cakes, plantain fruits, betel nuts, camphor, 
 incense powder, garlands, and other things necessary for 
 the ceremony, we took them into one of the rooms 
 in the court of the temple, where we thought we should 
 not be disturbed, and placed them before a little idol 
 that one of us had. 
 
 We dressed the god in a silk cloth, and adorned it in 
 the usual way with garlands. Samiah, whom being a 
 Brahmin we made our priest, set fire to the camphor, 
 and threw some incense powder on some live coal 
 heaped on a plate. While the camphor was blazing, and 
 the smoke of the incense was ascending, we fell down 
 before the god. 
 
 It is usual after worship to distribute sacred ashes and 
 sandal wood paste, and some betel leaf and betel nuts, 
 to the people after the idol has been taken out — carried 
 in procession round the temple and put in its place 
 again. Fearing, however, that we might be disturbed 
 by some of the temple Brahmins, and that our betel 
 nuts and other things would be taken from us, we 
 distributed them at once to the people who were 
 standing round and worshipping with us. Our boy 
 priest, with much dignity, gave to each a little cow 
 dung ashes, which we smeared across our brow ; then, 
 with a spoon he gave each of us a small quantity 
 of sandal wood paste, which, with the point of one of 
 our fingers, we put as a round dot in the middle of 
 our forehead. He gave every one a few green betel 
 leaves and some nuts. When all this was finished, and 
 
40 
 
 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 \vc were about to bring out the idol for the procession, 
 the chief priest of the temple, a very choleric old 
 Brahmin, came scolding and threatening. We imme- 
 diately shut and barred the door of the little room. 
 
 ‘ Fools and rascals ! ’ he cried in a rage. ‘ Who 
 allowed you to take the sacred vessels and the temple 
 bell, and use them in this way ? ’ 
 
 We were all trembling with fear, and none of us dared 
 to say anything to him. 
 
 ‘ Don’t abuse the boys,’ said one of the men outside. 
 ‘ They are doing no harm. This is a good beginning 
 for them ; the}’ should rather be encouraged than 
 blamed.’ 
 
 The old priest paid no heed to these appeals, but 
 kept shoving and beating the door, and trying to compel 
 us to come out. Being old and feeble, he soon became 
 tired, and went away. 
 
 ‘You can come out now, the old Brahmin is away ; no 
 one will disturb }’OU,’ said the people outside, who were 
 friendly to us. 
 
 Hastily bringing the idol out, we tied it to a small car 
 that we had made for the purpose, and carried it shoulder 
 high round the temple. 
 
 Happily, such useless village schools as Runga Rao’s 
 are gradually being improved. In many large towns 
 normal training schools for teachers have been estab- 
 lished, and young teachers are encouraged by the 
 offer of liberal grants to leave their schools in charge 
 of some relative, while they go and learn the method 
 of teaching. 
 
 Inspectors visit the village schools at regular intervals. 
 
THE IDEAL OF EDUCATION. 
 
 41 
 
 and give a grant of mone}' to the teachers in proportion 
 to the proficiency of the children. 
 
 By this means great improvement is taking place in 
 the old village schools, and although the high ideal of 
 education, ‘that each youth should grow up in enviable 
 freedom, surrounded with beautiful and noble objects, in 
 constant intercourse with worthy men, taught what he 
 needs first to know, and never learning anything which 
 he requires to unlearn,’ — although this ideal may have to 
 wait long before it is realised, an approach to it is being 
 made : the children are being taught to look at objects 
 around them, to compare and to describe, to understand 
 and reflect, and there is now some endeavour to train the 
 reason, the imagination, and the affections, as well as the 
 memor)’. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CHOLERA. 
 
 NE morning, a little girl, thrusting her head into the 
 
 school-shed with a look and voice of terror, shouted, 
 ‘ Cholera is in the village. Beeran’s aunt has taken it 
 and died.’ 
 
 We all jumped up, and gathering our books together, 
 ran out of the school and off to our homes. 
 
 Except famine, cholera is the most terrible scourge of 
 India, and in some respects is even more awful than 
 famine itself. Famine destroys chiefly the poor ; its 
 approach can be observed and, to some extent, guarded 
 against ; but cholera is a demon that walks in silence 
 and darkness, and that spares no rank or age. Its 
 doomed victims, although dreading, are unconscious of, 
 its approach, till it lays its hand on them and strikes 
 them down. 
 
 The rumour that cholera was in Madras, in Salem, in 
 Coimbatore, had reached us, and filled us with vague 
 fear. But a week before the cholera god had been 
 carried in procession through the village, and as we had 
 been liberal in our offerings, both to the god and to the 
 priests who accompanied it, and had been unceasing in 
 
/JAT INTERESTING SONG. 
 
 43 
 
 prayers and vows in the temple, we hoped that the 
 plague would leave us unvisited, and now, hardly more 
 than a week after the god had been so earnestly 
 invoked, the enemy had come and commenced its work 
 of destruction ! 
 
 There were not wanting some who declared that 
 instead of warding off the disease, the visit of the god 
 was its direct and immediate cause. 
 
 Certain it is that only those who drank the water of 
 the well where the priests who accompanied the cholera 
 god bathed and washed their clothes fell victims to the 
 disease. The pariahs and other outcasts who were 
 forbidden to approach this caste well all escaped. 
 
 Every morning I used to go to the temple to pray that 
 both I and my father and mother might be preserved 
 from the disease. 
 
 One morning I heard an old neighbour woman singing 
 a song which attracted my attention. It declared that 
 God is not made of stone, or brass, or mud ; that the 
 worship of such false gods is useless ; that God is a 
 spirit, and dwells only in the heart of His true wor- 
 shippers. 
 
 ‘ What is that song you are singing ?’ I asked. 
 
 ‘ It is a song that my husband used to sing,’ she 
 replied. ‘ I often sing it at my work in the morning. 
 Would you like to hear it?’ 
 
 I told her that I should, and she sang : — 
 
 My God is not a chiselled stone, 
 Or lime so bright and white : 
 Nor is He cleaned with tamarind, 
 Like images of bronze. 
 
44 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA 
 
 I cannot worship such as these, 
 
 But loudly make my boast, 
 
 That in my heart I place the feet. 
 
 The golden feet of God. 
 
 If He be mine, what can I need ? 
 
 My God is everywhere : 
 
 Within, beyond man’s highest word. 
 
 My God existeth still. 
 
 In sacred books, in darkest night. 
 
 In deepest, bluest sky. 
 
 In those who know the truth, and in 
 The faithful few on earth : 
 
 My God is found in all of these ; 
 
 But can the Deity 
 Descend to images of stone. 
 
 Or copper dark and red ? 
 
 Alas ! how long did I adore 
 The chiselled stone, and serve 
 An image made of lime or brass. 
 
 That’s cleaned with tamarind.^ 
 
 ‘ Is it true what the song says,’ I asked, ‘ that God 
 does not dwell in an image of stone or brass?’ 
 
 ‘ Quite true,’ she replied. 
 
 ‘ Then why do men worship t*he stone, and say that 
 the god is in it ?’ 
 
 ‘ It is only for the sake of vulgar, ignorant, foolish 
 people that the stone is worshipped. Sensible folk know 
 that all this is vain.’ 
 
 ‘ But you worship the god, too, don’t you ?’ 
 
 ‘Yes,’ she replied; ‘I must do what is customaIy^ 
 We must walk as the village walks.’ 
 
 I went to the temple slowly and thoughtfully, and 
 
 ^ Gover’s Folk So7igs oI Southe7'7i htdia^ 
 
.)/F BROTHER IS ATTACKED. 
 
 45 
 
 gazed on the black oily idol in its shrine with thoughts 
 and feelings that I had never had before. I was not 
 convinced that the object which I had been taught so 
 devoutly to reverence and address my prayers to, whose 
 curse I had been accustomed to dread, and whose 
 malignant power I had heard so frequently invoked to 
 work injury on others, that this black, weird, strange 
 object was nothing but a dead, helpless stone ! 
 
 The seed of doubt, however, was sown, and my faith 
 in the gods was never again so strong and unhesitating 
 as it had been before. 
 
 In a week the disease spread through the whole 
 village, and for a month it raged with fearful violence. 
 As many as ten, and sometimes twenty people were 
 attacked in one day ; and at first almost every one who 
 took the disease died. 
 
 At half-past three one morning one of my young 
 brothers was attacked. He was immediately taken to 
 another room away from us, and we were sent off in 
 the dusk of early morning to the house of an aunt. 
 
 My brother died at four in the afternoon. His death 
 was kept a close secret from us ; but we suspected what 
 had happened by seeing the preparations for worship, 
 and for the sacred rice boiling, that, with the view of 
 soothing the anger of the god, always takes place where 
 a cholera victim has died. 
 
 While cholera is prevalent the people go very early 
 to bed, and do not leave their houses till the sun is well 
 up. They very rarely go out in the night. 
 
 A hundred goats were sacrificed ; but this seemed 
 rather to provoke the god, for the number of his victims, 
 
46 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 for a little while after, increased. At length the cases 
 became fewer, the violence of the malady abated, and 
 most of those who were stricken down recovered. 
 
 It was at this stage that I was attacked. I became 
 sick in the middle of the night ; but I hesitated for a long 
 time to awake any one and ask assistance. The pain 
 became so great, however, that I could endure it no 
 longer ; so, creeping to where my aunt’s husband was 
 lying on the ground asleep, with his sheet closely cover- 
 ing him from head to foot, I shook him, and shouted 
 at the same time, ‘ Uncle, uncle, I am very ill ; I must 
 go out.’ My uncle dashed the cloth off his face, and, 
 jumping up, carried me out ; then returning with me, 
 he kept me near the fire, and warmed my body and my 
 head. I soon became unconscious, and my parents were 
 sent for to take me home. 
 
 I recovered consciousness when I was taken in my 
 father’s arms into the open air. Loudly bewailing, he 
 and my mother took me first into the temple, where 
 with streaming eyes my mother prayed for my recovery, 
 and vowed that if her petition were granted she would 
 give a beautiful white heifer and a ram to be sacrificed 
 every year for three years on the last day of the annual 
 festivals, and that I would roll on the ground round the 
 temple at one of the car feasts. Some pills that a 
 missionary in Coimbatore had distributed were brought 
 to our village, but most of the people, fearing the rage 
 of the goddess, refused to use them. My father, how- 
 ever, being a man of greater courage than most of the 
 others, and also partly in revenge on the goddess for 
 the death of my younger brother, and partly in des- 
 
BEREA VEMENT. 
 
 47 
 
 peration, obtained some of the pills and gave them 
 to me. 
 
 One night during my illness I dreamed that two 
 short and shaggy-haired old black women, stooping with 
 age, stood on the two west corners of the house, and 
 called out, ‘ Oh women, come, come.’ I awoke in terror, 
 and told the dream to my mother, who soothed me and 
 hushed me to sleep again. 
 
 About an hour after my grandmother and my mother 
 were both attacked, and fell victims before three in the 
 morning. 
 
 Thus, in a fortnight we lost seven in our house, and 
 as many as forty among our relatives. 
 
 A few days after my recovery Runga Rao came to 
 condole with my father on his losses, and to congratulate 
 him on my restoration. 
 
 ‘ I am glad that your eldest son was spared to you,’ 
 he said. ‘ His loss would have been harder for you to 
 bear than all the rest. Did you give him any of the 
 white people’s medicine?’ 
 
 ‘ Yes,’ said my father, ‘ I gave him a pill. His mother 
 tried to dissuade me, but I thought I might try at least 
 with one child. It did him good ; so I gave him a good 
 many afterwards.’ 
 
 ‘ It was a great risk,’ said the schoolmaster, shaking 
 his head. ‘ Many who refused to take the medicine 
 recovered, and I hear that some who took it died by 
 incurring the wrath of the goddess.’ 
 
 ‘It was not so in my family,’ replied my father. ‘My 
 wife and my mother, who were obstinate in refusing 
 the pills, died very quickly after they were attacked. I 
 
48 EVERY-DAY LIFE EV SOUTH EVDE4. 
 
 wish in my heart to curse the goddess for what she has 
 done, notwithstanding all the vows, and prayers, and 
 worship we offered to her.’ 
 
 ‘ Don’t say that,’ said the Brahmin. ‘ I know many 
 who were cured by her. The cholera only disappeared, 
 too, after special worship was paid to her, and she was 
 soothed by being bathed with cocoanut water, milk, 
 curd, the juice of the best oranges, pomegranates, lemons, 
 jack-fruit, plantains, and mangoes. She is very faithful 
 to her devotees. I am sorry, though, that you lost your 
 wife. It will cost you something to get another.’ 
 
 ‘Yes,’ said my father, ‘ my wife’s death is a loss of a 
 thousand rupees to me. I have my son also to provide 
 with a wife. These expenses will be very hard on 
 me.’ 
 
 ‘Oh,’ said the schoolmaster, rising to go, ‘a rich man 
 like you can easily bear them.’ 
 
 There lived in the village a religious mendicant who 
 had a vow of silence. Beggars are a very numerous class 
 in India. Some adopt the profession from simple lazi- 
 ness, and in order to obtain a livelihood ; and as the 
 bestowal of alms is regarded by every one as the most 
 sacred and meritorious of acts, every beggar may be said 
 to be in easy, if not comfortable, circumstances. Almost 
 all mendicants are religious devotees. Either from a dis- 
 gust to life caused by bereavement, personal sickness, the 
 loss of wealth, or other disappointment, or from a pure 
 desire to propitiate the gods and obtain deliverance from 
 future punishment, or from a mixture of motives, they 
 take a vow of poverty, and forsaking relatives and friends, 
 denying themselves almost everything that other men 
 
A HINDU BEGGAR. 
 
 D 
 
UNDER A VOW OF SILENCE. 
 
 51 
 
 prize — they allow their hair to grow long and nnatted, 
 smear their body with ashes, and, clad in the meagrest gar- 
 ment, they wander from village to village, from fair to fair, 
 from festival to festival, and lodge in the open verandahs 
 and in the public choultries. Some, in addition to the 
 privations of a begging and wandering life, afflict them- 
 selves in various ways — walk on wooden shoes covered 
 closely with iron nails, or wear a heavy iron frame riveted 
 round their neck. The people, while regarding them as 
 unmitigated rascals, capable of any crime, yet almost 
 worship them as beings of extraordinary religious merit. 
 To be distrusted and despised as a man and worshipped 
 and ministered to as a god does not appear an incon- 
 sistency to the Hindu mind. These beggars, being so 
 highly and universally honoured, are very proud and vain. 
 
 The devotee who had taken up his abode in our 
 village had a vow of silence. He lived in a corner of a 
 verandah in one of the side streets amid a heap of rags 
 that had accumulated round him in the course of years. 
 He sat for hours and hours in a vacant, listless manner 
 in the midst of his rags. He went occasionally to the 
 village shop to buy food with the money that the people 
 gave to him. He had no friend or relative in the village. 
 No one knew who he was or where he had come from. 
 He had lived in the same monotonous manner, I was 
 told, for twenty years. Differently from most beggars, 
 he covered his almost naked body with a long cloak. 
 
 The excitement and anxiety of the cholera made no 
 change in his quiet, listless manner and monotonous 
 habits till one day he seemed to have suddenly gone 
 mad. He was seen prancing wildly, and followed by a 
 
52 
 
 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 crowd of excited, alarmed people, running to the 'village 
 burning-place. There, amid the half-consumed skulls 
 and bones of the dead bodies that had so recently been 
 burned, he jumped about and waved his hands in a 
 frantic manner, shouting, ‘Ah! Ah! Hoo ! Hoo!’ Every 
 one believed that he was possessed by Mari, the goddess 
 of cholera. 
 
 ‘ O goddess ! ’ cried my uncle Boyan, falling down 
 before him. ‘ Our kind mother ! What is our crime ? 
 \\'hat disrespect have we shown to you ? Why do you 
 thus roar with grief? Tell us our offences, and we will 
 worship thee, and make atonement.’ 
 
 ‘ Ah ! Ah ! Hoo ! Hoo ! No proper worship has been 
 made to me ! ’ cried the man possessed, in a strange, 
 unnatural voice, and in a sing-song recitative manner. 
 
 ‘ No anointing. My temple is in ruins : I am exposed 
 to the sun and the rain. I can endure this no longer. I 
 have been preserving you hitherto. Even now, when I 
 saw seven bands of demons coming to spread destruction 
 among you, I took compassion, and allowed only three 
 of the bands to enter the village. Two of them have 
 gone among cattle and sheep, and the third among men. 
 Ah ! Ah ! Hoo ! Hoo ! ’ On hearing these terrible words, 
 we were all greatly distressed. 
 
 ‘ O goddess ! Our gentle mother, take pity on us 
 poor creatures! ’ cried my uncle. ‘ We will execute your 
 royal commands.’ 
 
 Suddenly the inspiration left the man, and he became 
 silent and listless, and passed quietly through the crowd, 
 which, in an awe-stricken manner, made way for him. 
 
 Arrangements for the repair of Mari’s the goddess of 
 
PIOUS ZEAL. 
 
 53 
 
 cholera’s temple, were immediately commenced. Some 
 promised wood, others lime, others tiles, and others 
 workmen’s wages, and all went home full of fear, and of 
 zeal for the goddess. 
 
 The work was speedily commenced, money and 
 building materials were freely contributed, and many, 
 who were strong and who knew the work, assisted 
 gratuitously in repairing the temple. The work was 
 finished just about the time that the disease completely 
 left the village. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 WE GO ON PILGRIMAGE. 
 
 A Tv hair had never been cut. It was kept neatly 
 ■IVI smoothed and oiled, parted in the middle, and 
 plaited at the back of my head. 
 
 It is not usual for boys to wear their hair long. 
 Shaving is practised even on little children — only a tuft 
 at the back of the head being allowed to grow. My 
 mother, however, had vowed, while I was yet an infant, 
 that if my life were spared, my hair should be allowed 
 to grow till I was eight years old, when at the gate of 
 the famous temple of Peroor it should be solemnly shaven 
 off, and presented to the god. 
 
 The time had now come for the fulfilment of the vow, 
 and great was the talk and interest which the anticipated 
 pilgrimage excited in our family and among all our 
 relatives and friends in the village. 
 
 Veeran, a young farmer, who lived close to us, and his 
 wife, Meenatchy, whom he had recently taken home as 
 his wife, and who, it was said, was a good deal persecuted 
 by her mother-in-law, asked to be allowed to join us. 
 Several others, thinking that it would be a good 
 opportunity to take their wives and children safely to 
 
 54 
 
LHVD MOO'l'infl 
 
J^OAD COMPANIONS. 
 
 57 
 
 the great temple to present their offerings and see the 
 god, made the same request Feeling that the larger the 
 party the less would be our danger of being attacked by 
 robbers, we welcomed all who offered to join us. 
 
 The astrologer having fixed the most auspicious time 
 to start, all needful preparations were made ; cooking 
 pots, brass drinking vessels, sweet cakes fried in ghee, 
 cooked rice tied in handkerchiefs, and a quantity of raw 
 rice to be boiled on the way, were collected ready to be 
 put in the bullock carts along with us in the morning. 
 
 The night before we started I could hardly sleep for 
 thinking of the great event, and next morning I could 
 eat nothing. Amid much noise and shouting — every one 
 telling every one else what to do, all in gay clothing, the 
 women with their skin tinged yellow with saffron and 
 their eyelids blackened to give a more voluptuous and 
 languishing look to their eyes — we, at length, got 
 ourselves comfortably seated in the straw in the bottom 
 of the bullock carts. 
 
 The bullocks, making the old village ring with the 
 sound of the bells round their necks, started off, and our 
 journey commenced. 
 
 In the first cart, along with my father and myself, 
 were my aunt, Meenatchy, and Balambal. Alas ! my 
 poor mother, who had made the vow, and who had 
 looked forward so eagerly to this journey, was no more. 
 Where was she ? We knew not ; but why think of 
 these things? 
 
 We soon reached the highway leading to Pollachy, 
 whither, that being market day, large numbers of people 
 were hastening. The road was alive with heavily-laden 
 
58 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 bullock carts, droves of sheep and goats, women with 
 baskets, leather workers with dried or tanned buffalo 
 hides on their heads, men leading a goat or two or a 
 couple of calves, and many hastening with empty 
 baskets to buy in their week’s provisions, each woman 
 walking a pace or two behind her husband, both talking 
 aloud to each other as they went, without seeing each 
 other’s face. 
 
 ‘ What a large number of people there are on the 
 road,’ I said. ‘Are they all going to Peroor?’ 
 
 At this, all in the cart burst out laughing. 
 
 ‘ See how pious he is,’ said my aunt. ‘ He is thinking 
 only of the temple and of the god.’ 
 
 ‘ This is market day at Pollachy,’ said my father. 
 ‘ The people are going there.’ 
 
 ‘ It is still four miles from Pollachy,’ said my aunt. 
 ‘ Some of these people must have a long way to go to 
 get their week’s provisions and to sell their produce.’ 
 
 ‘ Some come as far as eight or ten miles,’ replied my 
 father. 
 
 ‘ Why do they come so far? Have they no markets 
 near their own villages ? ’ Meenatchy asked. 
 
 ‘Not like the Pollachy market,’ said my father. ‘If 
 they wish to buy bullocks or a cow, or bamboos and 
 timber to build a house, or a rich cloth for a bride, they 
 must come to this market.’ 
 
 Suddenly we heard a great rustling over our head 
 among the leafy branches of the large trees that lined 
 the road. Looking out, Balambal raised her arms in an 
 animated, excited manner, and shouted, ‘ The monkeys, 
 the monkeys ! See, see ! ’ 
 
POLL ACHY MAP HPT. 
 
 59 
 
 We all looked out, and saw a number of monkeys 
 leaping from branch to branch, sitting up in their 
 curious comical way gazing at us, and then springing 
 to another branch. 
 
 ‘ Some have young ones in their arms,’ I shouted. 
 ‘See how they are jumping and holding their little 
 ones at the same time.’ 
 
 ‘In many parts of India,’ said my father, ‘ monkeys 
 are worshipped as gods, and in Benares there is a temple 
 where there are 500 of them.’ 
 
 Thus conversing, we drew near to the town of Pollachy. 
 The white terraced roofs of some of the houses, the 
 pointed spire of the Government buildings, and the 
 square conical tower of the temple, were now in 
 view. 
 
 The market extended fully half a mile beyond the 
 town, so that we had slowly to thread our way through 
 the dense mass of buyers and sellers. We passed on 
 our left the burial ground of the Christians, where a large 
 cross marked the grave of a missionary’s child. 
 
 Apart by themselves, in a low-lying field, were the 
 despised outcast leather workers with their hides. On 
 our right, in an open space among trees, were the cattle, 
 so tame that bullocks, cows, bulls, sheep, goats, and one 
 or two native ponies were mixed up with the black- 
 skinned, white-clad crowds. 
 
 The air was laden with the odour of spices, and our 
 eyes and nostrils began to tingle as we passed between 
 the large heaps of red and green chillies. The press of 
 bare-backed, bare-legged people was now so great — 
 every one shouting, pushing, elbowing, bargaining — that 
 
6o EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 it was difficult to get along at all. Eheu ! What a 
 dust ! How hot it is ! What a teeming, gesticulating, 
 jostling, vociferating multitude ! 
 
 Although confusion and disorder seemed to reign 
 everywhere, a more careful inspection showed this im- 
 pression to be erroneous. Every kind of merchandise 
 had its proper place in the market. The cloths and 
 blankets were spread out under long open sheds that 
 extended along the two further sides of the wide open 
 spaces. The booths were arranged in orderly lines ; the 
 bullock carts were drawn up side by side on the out- 
 skirts farthest from the sheds ; and all the women and 
 others, with their baskets of wares, sat in lines in the 
 middle of this camp-like enclosure. 
 
 Here, everything produced by every family in the 
 whole country round, and many things from the ends of 
 the earth, were spread out under the open sky ; grains, 
 spices, fruits, vegetables, jewels of gold, of silver, of 
 brass, of iron, and of sea shell ; cloths and blankets, 
 strange wooden combs, looking-glasses, paint for the 
 face, sea-shell feeding bottles, Bryant and May's matches, 
 Eno’s fruit salt, and every other requisite of Hindu 
 village life. 
 
 ‘ Yesterday,’ said my father, ‘ how few of all these 
 thousands of people were here, and to-morrow they will 
 all have gone. How strange ! Is it not a picture of 
 life? We come into the world, spend our little day, 
 chaffering, elbowing, pushing our way along as best we 
 can, and then we suddenly depart !’ 
 
 ‘ See,’ said my aunt, who was paying but little heed 
 to these moralisings, ‘ see these impudent beggars how 
 
AA^ ENGLISmfAA^^S HOUSE. 
 
 6i 
 
 they snatch and take by force what they want from the 
 baskets of the poor women.’ 
 
 We looked out and saw an ugly, dirty, half-naked 
 beggar, his face, breast, and arms smeared with ashes ; 
 his long hair all matted and tied in a knot above his 
 head ; his wallets slung on his shoulder, and an oval 
 vessel made of half a gourd in his hand, taking some 
 fruit, vegetables, and grain from the baskets of the 
 women. Most of his victims struggled with him, seized 
 his hand, or thrust him aside, trying to prevent him 
 taking too much, but no one hindered him altogether 
 from getting something. 
 
 Poor people ! It is not so much the taxes they have 
 to pay to Government that crush and impoverish them, 
 as the exactions of these impudent mendicants, and of 
 the idle temple Brahmins, bribes to policemen and village 
 officials, and the exorbitant interest of the money- 
 lenders. 
 
 Having now reached the end of the market, we passed 
 the large hospital on our right, then on our left the 
 Government buildings, with their pointed spires and long 
 Gothic windows, also a small mosque, and a Hindu 
 temple that was being built. 
 
 The town was now behind us, and we were going 
 leisurely along a beautiful broad smooth road, shaded 
 on either side by large wide-spreading trees. 
 
 ‘What a curious-looking house that is!’ said I, 
 pointing to an oblong tiled building on the top of a rising 
 ground, a little distance from the road. 
 
 ‘ Who can it be that lives there, away from the town 
 and from every one else?’ said Meenatchy. 
 
62 
 
 EVERY-DAY LIEE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 ‘ That,’ said my father, ‘ is the house of the European 
 in charge of this district.’ 
 
 ‘ Does he live all alone there ? ’ Meenatchy asked. 
 
 ‘Yes; he is not married, and there is no other 
 European in the town.’ 
 
 ‘Not married!’ exclaimed Meenatchy. ‘How could 
 his parents allow him to grow up without getting a wife 
 for him ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Many of the English gentlemen are like this. Their 
 customs are altogether different from ours They don’t 
 marry till they are old, and then every one selects a wife 
 for himself.’ 
 
 ‘ Most wonderful!’ exclaimed my aunt. ‘I have heard 
 that the English are very curious people, but I never 
 thought they could be like this. Have they no shame ? 
 How can a man speak for a wife for himself? ’ 
 
 ‘ In everything they are different from us,’ said my 
 father. ‘ European ladies drive openly in the same 
 carriage with their husbands ; they walk about arm- 
 in-arm with them ; they ride on horseback with them, 
 and they even sit in their presence ! ’ 
 
 ‘ Our customs are very much better than that,’ said 
 my aunt. 
 
 ‘Do they all live alone like this? It is strange that 
 they are not afraid,’ said Meenatchy. 
 
 ‘ In many places they are alone among the Hindus, 
 but in large towns there are many. They live in 
 beautiful houses in large gardens,’ replied my father. 
 
 ‘ How can they live without being married ? ’ said 
 Meenatchy. ‘ Every Hindu has a wife.’ 
 
 ‘ They are a strange people,’ said my father, ‘ but they 
 
HINDU AFFABILITY. 
 
 63 
 
 are very brave and very honest. They never take 
 bribes, and they try to do as much good to the people 
 as they can. They are far kinder to us than the 
 Brahmins or the Mohammedans. If the Europeans 
 were only more numerous, the village officials and 
 others would not be allowed to oppress us as they 
 do.’ 
 
 It was now about four o’clock in the afternoon, and 
 as we slowly jogged along we passed many of the 
 people returning to their villages from the market. One 
 man took hold of the back of our cart to help him 
 along. My father entered into conversation mth him, 
 and asked many questions regarding his business at 
 the market, and other private matters. I have observed 
 that there is a great difference between Hindus and 
 Europeans in this respect. An Englishman is offended 
 if you ask him where he is going, where he has come 
 from, his object in coming, his profession, the amount 
 of his salary, and the like ; whereas a Hindu regards 
 such inquiries as an indication of polite and kindly 
 interest in him. He will answer freely, though not 
 always truthfully, all your queries, and will, by magni- 
 fying his salary and in other ways, seek to give you a 
 high opinion of his importance. 
 
 The sun had set before we reached the choultry 
 by the wayside where we were to pass the night. It 
 looked, with its high blank walls, almost like a fortified 
 place. 
 
 In front was a verandah and a room for Europeans. 
 The rest of the building was reserved for Hindus, and 
 was arranged, native fashion, with the roof sloping 
 
64 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 towards the centre, where, without the aid of windows, 
 abundance of air and light was admitted. 
 
 This strong, commodious building for travellers had 
 been erected, as a work of merit, by a rich Hindu. 
 
 Choultries like this are the inns of India. They are 
 to be found in every town and village, and, in the Coim- 
 batore district, at intervals of ten or twelve miles along 
 the main roads. 
 
 Frequently they consist simply of a strong square 
 room, with three walls, without doors or windows, the 
 roof being supported in front by two wooden pillars. 
 Sometimes they are spacious buildings, with inner 
 verandahs and rooms, with one side set apart for 
 Brahmins, and, occasionally, a room for Europeans. 
 
 When we entered the choultry a lively and animated 
 scene presented itself. 
 
 A large party of pilgrims, on their way to the sacred 
 town of Pulney, filled every corner of the building. 
 They wore the pilgrim dress of brick-coloured cotton 
 cloth. Men, women, children, all were clad in the same 
 ugly colour. Some had a band of the dingy yellow 
 cloth tied over the mouth. The light, arched wooden 
 frames, adorned with the cloth of tawny hue, with pea- 
 cocks’ feathers, and carved representations of some god, 
 which they carry on their shoulder, and to which are 
 tied the earthen pots containing the sugar, butter, fish, 
 milk, and other things for the idol, were laid here and 
 there on the ground. 
 
 Some of the pilgrims were bringing water from the 
 well ; others were washing their feet ; some were cook- 
 ing over small fires ; others were lying at full length on 
 
A BAND OF PILGRIMS. 
 
 the floor ; and some were comforting the children. Al- 
 most all, except those with the cloth over their mouths, 
 were talking in loud tones, and making a terrible noise. 
 
 ‘ Ramaswamey,’ said one, ‘is this milk kavady (offer- 
 ing)? It is big. Do you feel it heavy ? ’ ^ 
 
 ‘ By the help of the spear god, it is as light as a gar- 
 land of flowers,’ Ramaswamey replied. 
 
 ‘ Whose temple was that which we passed on the 
 way ? ’ inquired one woman of another. 
 
 ‘ It was Mariumman’s temple.’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, goddess Mari ! ’ exclaimed the woman, ‘ take 
 care of us on our way. If we return in health, we will 
 give you two goats and two pots of boiled rice.’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, Mariumman !’ cried another, ‘ yoti must give 
 strength to our hands and feet. Let a stone fall on the 
 head of that man who did evil to me last year.’ 
 
 ‘ This Mariumman is a good goddess,’ said another ; 
 ‘ she will give all that we ask. But Karuvaloor Mariamma 
 is a bad goddess ; she will not do what we ask. I went 
 to her for the gift of a child ; I gave her two pots 
 of rice, but without success. May her temple fall down 
 and go to ruins ! Good-for-nothing goddess ! May 
 she find destruction ! I will throw up two handfuls of 
 earth.’ - 
 
 ‘ Sellaka, don’t blaspheme the goddess,’ said one of the 
 women, who was lying on the floor, with her eyes shut, 
 as if asleep. 
 
 ‘ What sort of goddess is she, if she cannot do what 
 we ask ? ’ exclaimed Sellaka. ‘ Let her go to ruin.’ 
 
 ‘ What do we do when we reach Pulney ? ’ asked a 
 young man of another, who, from his self-conscious, 
 
 E 
 
66 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 bustling, important air, seemed to have made the pil- 
 grimage before. 
 
 ‘ First, every one must go to the barber, and get the 
 whole head shaved.’ 
 
 ‘ Must we be shaved too ? ’ said Sellaka. 
 
 ‘ Yes, every one, women as well as men.’ 
 
 ‘ I wish I had not to get my head shaved,’ said 
 Sellaka ; ‘ but no matter, for the favour and blessing of 
 the god, I will do it.’ 
 
 ‘ Then we must go to the bazaar and buy plantains, 
 cocoanut, camphor, and benzamin, and take them to the 
 temple. The priest will keep half, and give us back the 
 remainder, with a little white ashes.’ 
 
 ‘ What becomes of the milk and the dead fish that we 
 take ? ’ asked one. 
 
 ‘ When the pot of milk and the vessel with the fish are 
 put before the god, the milk suddenly bubbles up, and 
 the fish become alive.’ 
 
 ‘ A wonderful miracle ! ’ exclaimed one of the men. 
 ‘ Pulneyandy is a great god.’ 
 
 ‘ All this is doubtful,’ said a man, looking round from 
 the rice which he was cooking over a small fire on the 
 ground. 
 
 ‘ How doubtful ? ’ exclaimed the other. 
 
 ‘ I have been told that the priest throws some lime 
 into the milk to make it ferment and bubble up.’ 
 
 ‘Well, let that pass. What about the fish? How is 
 it that they come alive ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, that is very easily done. The priest takes the 
 pot with the fish into the inner shrine, where no one can 
 see him, quickly throws out the dead fish, and puts in 
 
AN AFFABLE STRANGER. 67 
 
 some living ones in their stead ; then, covering up the pot, 
 he brings it out and gives it back to the worshippers.’ 
 
 ‘ I can believe anything of these Brahmin rascals. 
 They are up to all kinds of tricks,’ said the other. 
 ‘ However, let that go. May the god lead us as he wishes.’ 
 While this was going on, and while I was listening to 
 the talk of these people, the women of our party had 
 taken out the rice and other things from the cart, drawn 
 water from the well, lit a fire, and were busily cooking 
 our evening meal. A little distance off, in one of the 
 side rooms, reclining on a mat, with his shoulder sup- 
 ported by a large round pillow, was a man of a very 
 different style from the pilgrim rabble who were making 
 such a din, and who had first attracted my attention. 
 
 His turban, which was lying by his side, was of rich 
 purple silk, with a bright border of gold thread. A 
 square scarlet cashmere cloth, embroidered at the 
 corners and in the centre with gold, was thrown loosely 
 over his naked shoulders. He was evidently a gentleman 
 of some wealth and importance. 
 
 Presently he graciously motioned my father and 
 myself to approach him. He kindly asked about our 
 affairs, and the purpose of our journey. 
 
 ‘ And is this the boy whose hair you are going to 
 give to the god ?’ said he, looking at me with a smile. 
 
 Afterwards, when we learned who he was, we were 
 astonished at his affability. It is not usual for Hindus 
 of any official importance to converse or hold kindly 
 intercourse with those whom they think beneath them. 
 A Tasildar, or other native magistrate, will walk with 
 one or two servants round him, his head high, his toes 
 
68 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 out, and his body swaying from side to side. His inferiors 
 must approach him humbly, and must patiently endure his 
 lofty manners. English officials, although with ten times 
 more authority, are not half so proud. The Hindu cringes 
 to those above him, and is haughty to those beneath him ; 
 the Englishman, I have observed, shows most of his pride 
 to hi^ superiors, and to those who resist his authority. 
 
 The stranger told us that he was in the service of the 
 Rajah of Travancore, and had been to England more 
 than once on the rajah’s business. 
 
 We gazed with wonder on a man who had crossed 
 the great ocean, and had visited distant countries. His 
 broad, massive, softly-moulded, good-humoured face 
 inspired our confidence, and set us at our ease in his 
 presence. He seemed a man of more than ordinary 
 refinement and intelligence. 
 
 ‘ Were the people kind to you in England?’ inquired 
 my father. ‘ I should be afraid to go to a country 
 where there were none of my relatives, or of my caste 
 people, and where the customs must all be strange.’ 
 
 ‘ The English were very kind to me. They made 
 a “ lion ” of me, as it is called, z.e., they treated me as 
 if I were a very great man. Rich people invited me 
 to their houses, and showed me much honour.’ 
 
 ‘ Are all the people in England rich ? ’ 
 
 ‘ No,’ replied the stranget, ‘ many are poor ; but almost 
 all have more money and other possessions than the 
 majority of Hindus have. Here, how many possess 
 only one cloth to cover them, a small hut to live in, 
 and for furniture only an earthen pot or two, a small ' 
 earthen lamp, and a grass mat ? ’ 
 
THE ONLY HINDUS THAT PROSPER. 69 
 
 ‘Why do so many of the English come to India?’ 
 
 ‘ Because they find that they can have more money, 
 and honour, and power in this country than in their 
 own.’ 
 
 ‘ The English are a wonderful people ! ’ exclaimed 
 my father. ‘ They may not be so contented as the 
 Hindus, but perhaps that is why they are so enter- 
 prising, so rich, and so powerful. If the Hindus were 
 like them, they, too, might be rich ; but they are too 
 timid. Those who have money are afraid to risk it 
 in any enterprise ; they do nothing but follow old 
 customs.’ 
 
 ‘ The only people that prosper among us,’ said the 
 stranger, ‘ are the lawyers, the money-lenders, and 
 Government, Hindu, and Mohammedan officials, who 
 fatten on the vices of the people, or enrich them- 
 selves by bribes and other exactions.’ 
 
 By this time our food was ready ; so, requesting per- 
 mission from the stranger to leave him, we sat down in 
 front of our leaf plates, and soon after, as it was late, and 
 we were tired with our journey, we composed ourselves 
 to sleep, the women lying down a little distance off in 
 a place by themselves. The pilgrims were now quiet, 
 and were lying in various positions, like fish shaken 
 out of a basket. 
 
 Early next morning we scrambled into our carts 
 again, and continued our journey. The rich, cultivated 
 fields, through which we had been passing, were suddenly 
 exchanged for a barren desert. The roadside trees were 
 stunted and scraggy, and in the wide landscape, which 
 spread for miles before us, hardly a village was to be 
 
70 
 
 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 seen. In the undulating stony waste, on which our road 
 lay before us like a long white tape on reddish grey 
 cloth, herds of sheep were wandering and nibbling 
 the scanty grass. 
 
 The lovely belts of green on the lower slopes of a 
 range of rocky, precipitous mountains in the far distance 
 gave rest and refreshment to the eye. 
 
 After jogging along about eight miles, we passed on 
 the left a huge black image of the belly god, the largest 
 I had ever seen. 
 
 Three miles farther on our way led us through a small 
 village, with straggling mud houses, a noisy school-shed, 
 lazy loungers, and a small open shop, where, behind 
 baskets of grains and spices, and bunches of plantains 
 and cocoanuts suspended from the low, projecting roof, 
 a woman sat, waiting for custom. 
 
 Again, as by magic, the scene changed. A turn in 
 the road brought us as into a new world. We were 
 moving along the top of the bund, or embankment, of 
 a vast artificial lake, whose surface a stiff breeze was 
 lashing into foam-crested waves, and which seemed to 
 stretch to the very foot of the mountains in the far 
 distance. 
 
 In front, at the end of the bund, we looked with 
 delight on the rich green masses of waving palms and 
 other trees, and below, to our right, on the bright fields 
 of growing rice that lay spread out for miles, vieing in 
 beauty and magnificence with the lake above, to which 
 they owed all their fertility. 
 
 ‘ Were we to come along this road in the hot weather,’ 
 said my father, ‘ we should find this large tank quite 
 
PEROOR. 
 
 71 
 
 empty, and its rich bed covered with cucumbers and 
 melons.’ 
 
 ‘ Where does all the water go ? ’ I asked. 
 
 ‘ It is allowed to flow gradually over the paddy fields,’ 
 replied my father. ‘ See, the buffaloes ploughing in the 
 wet mud, and yonder, in another patch, the young shoots 
 of paddy that have just been planted : the water is being 
 let in to soak them well’ 
 
 Soon the tank was behind us, and we were 
 enjoying the shade and coolness of a magnificent grove 
 of banyan trees. Out into the glaring sunshine again, 
 past a field of tall sugar-cane, and a squeaking, squealing 
 sugar press ; then along the lower side of the bund of 
 another tank, we entered the town of Coimbatore. What 
 beautiful broad, straight streets ! How magnificent some 
 of the houses ! We passed the college, the hospital, the 
 London Mission school, and one or two temples, half 
 hidden and smothered by small dirty shops. 
 
 We went to my uncle’s house, where we spent the 
 night. Continuing our journey next morning, we were 
 soon beyond the town, under leafy trees again, in a rich, 
 tank-watered country, and, without accident or incident 
 of importance, we at length arrived at the village of 
 Peroor. 
 
 It is a small, straggling place, with wide, open spaces, 
 and a sleepy, decayed appearance. The large, massive 
 towers of the temple; the high, graceful granite pillar in 
 front of its main entrance ; the beautiful tank, with its 
 flights of granite steps ; the large car, with its carvings, 
 reposing under its protecting thatch ; the many choultries 
 for the accommodation of pilgrims, were the chief, and 
 
72 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 indeed the only striking objects in the village. The 
 whole place had a vacant, deserted look ; but one could 
 imagine how busy and animated it would appear on 
 grand festival occasions, with crowds of pilgrims from 
 far and near, bringing their offerings, bathing, chattering, 
 and cooking, 
 
 ‘ I shall go and find a barber to cut off the boy’s hair,’ 
 said my father, the morning after our arrival. ‘ I must 
 
 A HINDU BARBER. 
 
 also make a bargain with the priests about the cere- 
 monies, and engage some musicians and dancing women 
 to lead our procession.’ 
 
 ‘Get a good man to shave the boy’s head,’ said my 
 aunt. 
 
 ‘Yes,’ said Meenatchy, stroking my hair affectionately. 
 
SJIA VING. 
 
 73 
 
 ‘ I am told that the barbers here are mostly rogues. 
 They don’t cast the hair into a holy river, but sell it to 
 make wigs. I fear, my pet, that is what they will do 
 with your smooth, lovely hair.’ 
 
 ‘What if he does?’ said my father. ‘If it is cut off and 
 given to the barber, and the fit ceremonies are performed, 
 we need not care what becomes of it afterwards. At any 
 rate, the barbers here won’t play us the trick they do 
 at Rameswaram.’ 
 
 ‘ What is that?’ inquired my aunt. 
 
 ‘At the feasts there, when the multitudes of pilgrims 
 are very great, and every one keeps pestering the few 
 barbers to shave his head soon, the barbers shave a little 
 off one side of each man’s head, and leave them all 
 standing in this ridiculous fashion till the business can be 
 conveniently finished.’ 
 
 ‘The barbers thus secure their time and their cus- 
 tomers by one stroke, I suppose,’ said my aunt. 
 
 ‘Yes,’ replied my father. ‘ No other barber will touch 
 a head that is half shaved, and the man cannot stir 
 from the spot till the whole is completed.’ 
 
 The barber is an important personage, because almost 
 every Hindu has most of his head and face, and in 
 some cases the back of his hands, regularly shaved, and 
 because no Hindu will shave himself. 
 
 Although so essential to the comfort and dignity of 
 the' people, the barber is not esteemed in proportion 
 to his usefulness. He is ranked with scavengers of all 
 kinds, as a clearer away of dirt. 
 
 A tuft of hair at the back of the head, and a mous- 
 tache, are all that is worn ; the moustache is for ornament. 
 
74 EVERY-DAY LIl^E IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 and the hidaini^ as the tuft is called, is for important 
 religious purposes. It is usually worn tied in a knot and 
 thrust beneath the turban. As a sign of mourning, the 
 turban is laid aside and the kudami allowed to hang 
 loose down the back. 
 
 There is nothing that a Hindu covets so much as a 
 son ; not merely for the pleasure of rearing him, and 
 perpetuating his own name and nature to future gener- 
 ations; not merely, either, that he may have some one to 
 look to for support in old age ; but that his soul may be 
 refreshed in the other world. One of the names for son 
 is Puthiran, which means, ‘ Deliverer from hell. 
 
 The most sacred duty incumbent on every Hindu 
 who has survived his father is to perform the rites on the 
 anniversary of his death for the repose of his soul. It 
 is in these rites that the great importance of the kudami 
 is found. The son bathes in the tank, and squeezes the 
 drops from his hair into the water, and thus cools the 
 tongue of his father in the land of spirits. 
 
 We found the barber that we were seeking, sitting 
 under a large tree by the side of the tank, preparing to 
 shave an old man. The barber was telling, in his 
 garrulous way, some remarkable events that had recently 
 occurred in Coimbatore. 
 
 ‘ You know Samiah?’ he said, as he rubbed his brush 
 on the soap that lay on the ground by his side. 
 
 ‘ The teacher in the mission school ? ’ inquired the 
 old man. 
 
 ‘ The very man,’ said the barber, ‘ and a good, respect- 
 able man he is.’ The old Brahmin’s face and mouth 
 were now covered with lather, so that the barber was 
 
STRANGE OCCURRENCES. 
 
 75 
 
 allowed to go on with his story without interruption. 
 ‘Well, Samiah’s niece was possessed with a devil, and a 
 man was brought from Malabar to drive it out. He 
 agreed to do the business for ten rupees. 
 
 ‘ After performing a number of ceremonies, and just 
 before tying an amulet round the girl’s left arm, he 
 asked five rupees more. 
 
 ‘ Samiah insisted on keeping him to his bargain ; told 
 him that he would not give him another rupee ; that ten 
 rupees was enough for all he was doing — quite enough 
 to spend on a woman. 
 
 ‘ The man got into a rage, and left the house, mutter- 
 ing some mysterious words, which were supposed to 
 mean that he would do some mischief to the inmates. 
 
 ‘ Next day the vessels in the house moved from place 
 to place of their own accord. Big stones fell in the 
 rooms in front of the people sitting there. No one 
 could discover or imagine where they came from. 
 
 ‘ For about a fortnight, while this annoyance lasted, 
 the people in the house could hardly sleep for fear of the 
 stones falling on their heads and killing them. Yet the 
 strange thing is, that although the stones continued 
 to fall, they never struck any one, but seemed simply 
 intended to give annoyance.’ 
 
 ‘ I wonder the people could stay in the house at all,’ 
 said my father. ‘ Did they not all leave it?’ 
 
 ‘ What could they do?’ said the barber ; ‘ the house is 
 their own, and it was impossible to get another at once, 
 although they had tried. But I have not told you all. 
 The pot of rice on the fire would remain steady so long 
 as the cook’s eyes were on it ; but if she looked away, it 
 
76 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 would fall over on to the floor. Sometimes the cooked 
 rice was coloured red, and a cloth taken from a vessel of 
 water would be, to the amazement and terror of the 
 women, perfectly dry.’ 
 
 By this time the shaving of the old man’s head was 
 finished, and the thin line of hair left on his upper lip was 
 properly trimmed. 
 
 ‘ I heard something of these strange occurrences,’ said 
 he, ‘ and I have been wishing to meet some one who could 
 tell me more particularly about them. Was no exami- 
 nation made by others into the cause of these things ?’ 
 
 ‘Yes,’ replied the barber; ‘the deputy-collector, Mr. 
 Rungachariar, went to the house to see for himself. A 
 small brass vessel that had been missing for a long time, 
 and had been given up as lost, came towards him with 
 tremendous force, so that he had to dodge his head to 
 escape the blow.’ 
 
 ‘Are these disturbances going on still?’ asked my 
 father. 
 
 ‘ No,’ replied the barber, ‘ they only lasted about a 
 fortnight. The district munsiff, a great friend of 
 Samiah, sent to Palghaut for a Mussulman, who directed 
 the people in the house to pick up all the stones and 
 other things as they fell, and put them in a pot of water 
 with some turmeric powder and lime, and to keep it 
 always on the fire. They were to keep the pot boiling 
 constantly for three days. On the fourth day the man 
 came, and with a kind of magical wand in his right hand 
 went round the house three times, pronouncing some 
 mysterious words. From that day the annoyance 
 entirely ceased.’ 
 
DEMON POSSESSION 
 
 77 
 
 On our way back to the choultry, I asked my father it 
 he had ever heard of such things before. 
 
 ‘ Yes,’ said he, ' they occur in many places. They are 
 supposed to be the work of evil spirits. Not long ago a 
 Roman Catholic family in Coimbatore suffered greatly. 
 There is also a house in the Brahmins’ street there that 
 has been entirely abandoned. If any one attempts to 
 live in it the demon appears to them every night in a 
 dream, in the likeness of a widow, and orders them to 
 quit on pain of death. It is a fact that many who lived 
 in the house died suddenly. Sometimes these evil spirits 
 enter into human beings also. Your aunt suffered two 
 or three times in this way. A Mohammedan drove 
 out the demon, but it came back again. At length he 
 performed ceremonies for ten days, after which it left 
 her and never returned.’ 
 
 ‘ What kind of spirit was it ?’ 
 
 ‘ It was a male spirit. It is always a male spirit that 
 possesses a female.’ 
 
 ‘ Did my aunt know that a spirit had taken possession 
 of her ?’ 
 
 ‘ No ; the spirit only came at certain hours of the day, 
 and at those times she was unconscious. She did not 
 speak her own words, or do any of her accustomed acts. 
 The demon that possessed her had lived formerly in the 
 Telugu country, and spoke through her in that language. 
 
 ‘ What did he say?’ 
 
 ‘Not much. When the Mohammedan was exorcising 
 it, it would cry a thousand times, “ I am going, I am 
 going, I am going, I am suffering.” It told also how it 
 had seized your aunt, and had entered into her body. 
 
78 EVERY-DAV LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 How she, having on a certain occasion gone alone to a 
 tank, had stumbled over a stone, and how it had entered 
 into her at that moment. I remember the circumstance 
 very well. Your aunt had indeed been to that place.’ 
 
 ‘ What did the Mohammedan do to drive out the 
 spirit ?’ 
 
 ‘ Making your aunt sit in the middle of a figure which 
 he had drawn with chalk on the floor, he beat her 
 soundly with a cane. She felt no pain, nor did the 
 cane leave any marks on her body.’ 
 
 ‘ This is very terrible. I hope no evil spirit will ever 
 take possession of me,’ I said. 
 
 ‘ Meditate much on the god, and perform diligently his 
 worship, and he will protect you,’ replied my father. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A HOLY MENDICANT— A HINDU POPE— SACRED 
 ASHES-THE TEMPLE AND ITS SERVICE. 
 
 ITI’hen we returned to the choultry, a beggar was 
 » » standing at the door with a group of people round 
 him. He had a tall, red, conical cap on his head, a 
 brass plate with the image of the monkey god on his 
 breast, and the sacred yellow cloth thrown over his 
 shoulders. On his left arm were a number of wallets ; 
 in one hand he carried a long staff, and with the other 
 he was beating a small brass gong attached to his wrist 
 Round his neck were strings of holy beads, and his face, 
 arms, and chest were smeared with sacred ashes. 
 
 ‘ Do you know,’ said he to some of the people stand- 
 ing round, ‘ that the great guru is in the neighbouring 
 town ? He has not been in this district for thirty years.’ 
 
 ‘ We heard that he had come,’ said one of the village 
 fathers. ‘ I remember the last time the guru came. Let 
 me see — yes, it must be nearly thirty years ago. This 
 will be the son of the guru that came then. Did you 
 see him ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I only got a glimpse as he passed. It is only the 
 Brahmins, and those who can give him a rich present 
 
 79 
 
8o EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 that are allowed to come near him. The people are all 
 falling down before him, and worshipping him, like a 
 god. Every family in his sect must send him some 
 money. I saw his elephants and camels, and his splendid 
 palanquin. He is more glorious than a rajah.’ 
 
 ‘What a blessing it must be to fall at his feet ! ’ said 
 one. ‘ Does he teach the people anything ? ’ 
 
 ‘ He does not speak much,’ replied the mendicant. 
 ‘ He pours into each of his disciples’ hands a little holy 
 water for them to drink. He fines all who have broken 
 any of the rules of caste.’ 
 
 ‘Do they all pay?’ asked my father. ‘If every one 
 who breaks the caste rules were fined, no one would 
 escape.’ 
 
 ‘ It is true,’ said the mendicant. ‘ Few in these days 
 keep caste properly. It is only those who act differently 
 from the majority that are fined. A widow was accused 
 before him of immoral conduct. She was condemned to 
 pay a heavy fine, and till the fine should be paid she was 
 to be excluded from caste. Her relatives were expelled 
 along with her, and no one was to be allowed to have any 
 dealings with them. I am not a great guru,’ continued 
 the mendicant, ‘ but here are some sacred white ashes 
 which will destroy your sins, and reduce them to ashes.’ 
 
 ‘ What good can ashes rubbed on the body do to the 
 soul ? ’ said the old man whom we saw being shaved, and 
 who now joined the group. 
 
 ‘You fool!’ said the beggar. ‘Are you ignorant of 
 the Sacred Books ? Have you never heard of the 
 wicked man, how, when he was dying, and when the 
 demons were waiting to carry him to hell, a dog. 
 
SUPERSTITION. 
 
 8t 
 
 terrified by the demons, jumped from the dung-heap, 
 and running into the house sprang upon the bed, 
 covering the dying man with ashes ; and how, at once, 
 the evil spirits flew away, and the good angels came and 
 carried the man’s soul to heaven ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Oh yes, I have heard the story ; but no one now-a- 
 days, believes these stories — they are all lies. However, 
 give me some of the ashes. At least, they can’t do any 
 harm. Perhaps they have some efficacy — who can tell ? 
 and it is well to follow the custom.’ 
 
 So saying, he dipped his finger in the white dust, and 
 smeared it in horizontal lines on his brow. 
 
 Although the women standing round were not 
 allowed to do the same, they looked on with interest 
 and approval while the men were adorning themselves. 
 
 After the mendicant had gone away, and the crowd 
 had dispersed, the old man sat down beside my father, 
 and asked about our journey, and our purpose in 
 visiting Peroor at that time. 
 
 ‘ We have come to fulfil a vow which my wife made 
 when this boy was born. Her first child died, and she 
 wished to please the god and save this boy’s life.’ 
 
 ‘ Ah yes,’ said the old man, ‘ there would be little 
 service done to the gods but for sickness, bereavement, 
 and suffering. When we are well and happy, we think 
 little about religion.’ 
 
 ‘ It is true,’ said my father, ‘ most of the offerings 
 and penances are in fulfilment of vows made in terror, 
 and which the people are afraid afterwards to leave 
 unperformed. We have little reason to love the gods. 
 They are mostly evil, vindictive, jealous beings, who 
 
 F 
 
82 
 
 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 delight to afflict us, and who envy us the smallest 
 happiness.’ 
 
 ‘ You heard how that rascally beggar spoke to me. I 
 saw him dead drunk last night. He is half intoxicated 
 with bang now. He is one of the greatest knaves in the 
 country.’ 
 
 ‘ These beggars are mostly rascals,’ said my father. 
 ‘How are the Brahmins here?’ 
 
 ‘ I don’t wish to speak of them. Every one knows 
 that in holy places like this they are worse than any- 
 where else.’ 
 
 ‘It is a fine temple. What a pity it has never been 
 finished !’ 
 
 ‘ How is it that so much money was spent in temple 
 building long ago, while now they are allowed almost to 
 fall into ruins ? ’ 
 
 ‘There are no rich rajahs now, to undertake such 
 works,’ said the old man. ‘ The revenues which the 
 rajahs, three hundred years ago, had little use for 
 except to build temples and palaces with, are now 
 spent by a Christian government on roads, bridges, 
 railways, colleges, schools, and hospitals, and in high 
 salaries to European officials. The people, too, are losing 
 their faith in the gods. When I was a boy all the people 
 used to flock to the festivals. Now the most faithful wor- 
 shippers are women and children and idle vagabonds. 
 So few people came to the car feast last month that the 
 car could not be dragged, and messengers had to be sent 
 to all the villages round to compel the people to come. 
 They don’t contribute as they used to do, and all kinds 
 of plans have to be adopted to make them pay.’ 
 
IVi: GO TO THE TEMPLE. 
 
 83 
 
 ‘ At Pollachy last year/ said my father, ‘ the god was 
 brought out of the Siva temple loaded with chains, and 
 the people were told that the god’s cruel creditors had 
 chained it for debt. Some of the people laughed, but 
 most were afraid that the god would be angry and send 
 some calamity to the town unless the chains were 
 removed, so they contributed a large sum.’ 
 
 ‘ Here, at one of the feasts,’ said the old man, ‘ they 
 rubbed the god with ointment, saying that grief and 
 anxiety had made him sick. Of course, the offerings 
 flowed in, and the god quickly recovered health.’ 
 
 The old man said this solemnly, yet there was a twinkle 
 in his eye, and a sarcastic, humorous tone in his voice 
 as he said it. 
 
 It was now time for us to go to the temple. The 
 musicians and dancing-women were waiting outside, 
 sounding their instruments, and talking in loud tones. 
 
 We went in procession, — my aunt, Meenatchy, and 
 the other women of our party carrying the offerings, the 
 musicians with their harsh, discordant music, and the 
 dancing-women with rhythmical motions and sweet, 
 plaintive singing, leading the way. 
 
 At the door of the temple my hair was soon shaven 
 clean off, and given to the barber. We then passed 
 through the massive doors under the high tower, into 
 the temple court. In a recess in the gateway were 
 wooden horses for the gods to ride on, and coils of thick 
 rope to draw the unwieldy car with. 
 
 We crossed the court, making obeisance to the image 
 of the sacred bull which reposed under a stone canopy 
 not far from the gateway ; we ascended the steps to the 
 
We passed between the rows of gods and griffins, 
 beasts and devils carved in complete relief in the huge 
 monolithic pillars that supported the roof, to the remote 
 
 TEMPLE AT PEROOR. 
 
 84 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 temple, a square, flat-roofed structure — massive, gloomy, 
 and austere, suggestive of caves and gloomy abysses, 
 rather than of the gladness and brightness of free, open 
 healthy nature, with its trees and flowers, the gladdening 
 sunlight, and the open expanse of heaven. 
 
LEVI TV IN THE TEMPLE. 85 
 
 interior where, behind a heavy iron grating, a small light 
 was burning, and where the god was. 
 
 One of the priests opened the grating, went in, and 
 poured over the god water, brought in a large copper 
 vessel on the back of an elephant. He then anointed 
 the idol with oil, put a dot of red and yellow powder 
 on its forehead and shoulders, and placed garlands of 
 flowers round its neck. He then came, received our 
 offerings, and presented them to the god, all the while 
 repeating verses of Sanscrit, and sounding a little bell. 
 
 We stood reverently waiting while the priest was 
 making worship for us, but the Brahmins who were 
 loitering about, and the village people who had entered 
 along with us, showed no respect whatever for the 
 place or the worship. They talked and laughed, and 
 moved about as freely as if they had been at a fair. 
 
 Hindus perform their worship with as much talking 
 and confusion as they do everything else. It is not 
 unusual even for quarrels and fights to take place in the 
 temple courts, and in the very presence of the god. 
 
 The officiating priest at length came out and gave us 
 some of the fruits, rice, and flowers that we had given to 
 him to be put before the idol, and poured some of the 
 holy water into our hands. We drank a little of the 
 water, fixed the flowers in our hair, or in the folds of 
 our turbans, and returned to the choultry. 
 
 One morning, shortly after our return from Peroor, a 
 European gentleman rode into our village. 
 
 ‘ That,’ said a boy called Rungan, one of my com- 
 panions, who, about a year before, had gone to school at 
 Coimbatore, and who was home on a holiday, ‘ that 
 
86 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 is the missionary, Mr. Knox. He will be going to 
 preach.’ 
 
 Mr. Knox was accompanied by a horsekeeper and 
 two native evangelists. He rode a white pony, and 
 dismounting walked with a firm and measured step 
 towards the stone platform with the gods, near the tank. 
 His short beard and moustache were black, and his pale 
 face had a slightly olive tinge. His whole manner, all 
 the lines of his face, as well as the calm and somewhat 
 stern look in his eyes, indicated force and determination, 
 rather than gentleness and amiability. He wore a short 
 tweed jacket, a grey holland vest, and white trousers ; a 
 large grey helmet covered his head, and added to the 
 sternness of his aspect. The native preachers who were 
 with him were dressed like Brahmin clerks. One wore 
 a white, the other a red turban with a gold border ; one 
 wore a short white jacket, and the other, the handsomer 
 and better dressed of the two, a long straw-coloured 
 coat. 
 
 Near the tank, where they went to preach, there was 
 a group of Brahmins and others, and women, with their 
 white and coloured dresses and bright brass water- 
 vessels, were passing and repassing. This spot is the 
 chief place of assembly in the village. Here the idle 
 spend most of their time ; here wayfarers sit to rest, and 
 to retail the latest news ; and here the village women 
 stop occasionally for a minute or two, to talk over with 
 each other their vexations and troubles, — the never- 
 ending interests connected with rupees, annas, and 
 pice, and with births, deaths, and marriages. It was 
 such an unusual and unheard-of thing for a European 
 
THE NATIVE PREACHERS. 
 
 87 
 
 gentleman to come to preach to us, that the people 
 gathered from all sides to hear what he was goingtosay. 
 
 The Brahmins stood somewhat superciliously a little 
 distance off, but were evidently interested in watching 
 what was going to happen. A number of naked and 
 half-clad children jostled each other in the front of 
 the crowd. 
 
 On a sign from the missionary one of the catechists 
 mounted the steps of the stone platform. His white 
 cotton jacket, which was badly made, hung awkwardly 
 on his shoulders ; his large white turban was loosely 
 tied, so that it half covered his ears, and reached to 
 the back of his neck. He had a red cotton handker- 
 chief hanging loosely over one shoulder, and a white 
 umbrella, and a bundle of small books and tracts 
 under his arm. His toes were turned slightly inwards, 
 and his head was inclined a little to one side. His 
 soft, almond-shaped face indicated gentleness and 
 pliancy of disposition. 
 
 His address was listened to with some impatience, 
 especially as what he said was not very flattering. 
 He began, ‘ Do you know what kind of men you 
 Hindus are ? ’ and he proceeded, in a sing-song manner, 
 looking over the heads of the people, to tell them their 
 faults and vices. 
 
 The catechist, who next spoke, was a young man 
 with smooth, regular, finely-formed features. He had 
 a small moustache, straight eyebrows, and a frank, open 
 countenance. He looked like a handsome Brahmin, 
 and his dress was, in perfect harmony with the refine- 
 ment and delicacy of his features. 
 
88 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 He spoke well, earnestly, and with graceful animation; 
 but he was soon interrupted by some of the young 
 Brahmins, who had been whispering together. 
 
 ‘ I have a question to ask,’ said one. 
 
 ‘ If you keep your question in mind,’ said Mr. Knox, 
 ‘ you may tell it to us afterwards. We cannot stop 
 our preaching to answer questions.’ 
 
 The young Brahmin stepped back among his com- 
 panions. When the missionary stood up to preach, 
 the impatience among the Brahmins, and their desire 
 to give annoyance and show off their importance, had 
 so increased, that two or three began to speak at once. 
 ‘ We have urgent business,’ shouted one, ‘ we cannot 
 wait. You must answer our questions now.’ 
 
 ‘He speaks good Tamil,’ said another; ‘let him 
 go on.’ 
 
 ‘ Why don’t you old men speak ? ’ cried a youth to 
 some staid, reverend Brahmins ; ‘ have you nothing to 
 say ? ’ 
 
 A deaf, infirm old Brahmin now came along, stepped, 
 stick in hand, into the front of the crowd, looked up 
 at the preachers, and then round on the people, and 
 wanted to know what it was all about. In the midst 
 of the hubbub Mr. Knox managed to say, ‘ I once 
 heard a Hindu addressing a large meeting in Scotland. 
 The Scotch people listened to him gladly, and treated 
 him politely. No one interrupted him while he was 
 speaking.’ 
 
 ‘ You have spoken long enough ; can’t we speak now? 
 answer our questions ! ’ shouted some. 
 
 ‘ If you listen quietly to what I have to say, I will 
 
THE MISSIONARY'S SERMON 
 
 ansvyer your questions afterwards. I hope soon to 
 return to England. Many there will ask me about the 
 Brahmins — how you behave when we preach. What 
 sort of account shall I be able to give of you ? ’ 
 
 Still interruption and contradiction. 
 
 ‘ Many,’ continued the missionary, ‘ consider the 
 Brahmins among the politest people in the world. 
 What would they think if they were to see you now ? ’ 
 
 Some of the Brahmins began now to be a little 
 ashamed, but still the interruption continued. 
 
 ‘Women when collected together,’ said Mr. Knox, 
 ‘all talk at the same time. You are not women ; why 
 do you chatter like them ? ’ These appeals at length 
 produced the desired effect, and the missionary was 
 allowed to proceed with his address. 
 
 ‘ As this village,’ he said, ‘ is near the public road, 
 many travellers stay here for a little while to rest. 
 
 ‘ They tell you news, inform you of their affairs, and 
 express opinions on various subjects. You listen, but 
 you do not always agree to what they say. Sometimes 
 their ideas are so strange and unreasonable that you 
 hear them with a smile and a shake of the head. As 
 one of your own poets has said, “ Some will even declare 
 that a crow is white, and that to kill one’s mother is 
 a virtuous deed.” 
 
 ‘ Meeting a man on the road, you ask him, “ Where 
 are you going?” He perhaps replies, “I am going to 
 the temple to see the god.” You immediately think 
 of the verse which says, 
 
 “Thinking the upright stone a god, 
 
 Four kinds of flowers you place before it : 
 
90 
 
 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 Marching round with muttered sound, 
 
 What is that prayer you say ? O fool, 
 
 That an upright stone one word can speak ; 
 
 Or God in the midst of it can dwell ; 
 
 As well believe the pot and ladle. 
 
 The taste of the curry, with truth, can tell.” 
 
 ‘ Or hearing that one of your friends is making 
 preparations for a long journey, you ask him where he 
 is going. He tells you that he has been much troubled 
 with the thought of his sins, and that he hopes, by 
 visiting the sacred city of Casi (Benares), and bathing 
 in the Ganges, to obtain purification and an entrance 
 into heaven. 
 
 ‘ Although you may not altogether disapprove of his 
 purpose, you think of the verse which says, 
 
 “To Casi, to Casi, there are those who say, 
 
 And break their legs with the toil of the way. 
 
 If a dog that is black to Casi go. 
 
 Will bathing there make it white as snow?” 
 
 ‘ There are others who tell you, “ We not go so far 
 as Casi ; if we bathe in the Cavery our sins will be 
 washed away.” 
 
 ‘ In regard to this also you know what the poet says, 
 
 “ Although you bathe in holy water. 
 
 Your wickedness will not depart ; 
 
 Though the filth of the body be all removed, 
 
 Not so sin within the heart ; 
 
 To behold a river is not to be pure : 
 
 To repent and reform is the only cure.” 
 
 ‘You thus find that many of the opinions which men 
 express, and the doctrines which they hold, are doubtful. 
 What one man asserts another denies ; what one 
 
THE SERMON 
 
 91 
 
 believes another rejects ; and even those who practise 
 rites and ceremonies do so, not because they firmly 
 believe in them, but merely as an experiment, and 
 because it is the custom. 
 
 ‘ This is the first time that we have come to your 
 village. Many of you look upon us with suspicion, and 
 before listening to what we have to say you imagine 
 that our teaching must be false and injurious. 
 
 ‘ I am sure that you will not have this opinion when 
 you know what our doctrines really are. I will tell 
 you nothing but what is reasonable, and what you 
 will all agree to. Listen, and judge for yourselves. 
 
 ‘ Every man has a body. You all, I am sure, admit 
 that. It is with the body that we walk, eat, speak, 
 hear, and see : with the body we perform many impor- 
 tant acts ; but the body is not the man. Cut off a leg 
 or an arm, the man still lives, and feels, and thinks. 
 Every man is a living soul. It is the soul that thinks, 
 that forms plans and carries them out, that loves and 
 hates, that feels sorrow and enjoys happiness. The 
 body is but the covering and the instrument of the 
 soul. 
 
 ‘ As there are souls on earth, so there are souls in 
 heaven. God, as you yourselves say, is the Parania 
 Athma , — the Highest Soul. He is the Creator of all 
 things. As every house had a builder, every book an 
 author, every picture a painter, every image a carver, 
 so the sun, moon, and stars, the earth, and all that it 
 contains, were made by the Highest Soul. 
 
 ‘ God, who is the highest Being in the universe, is 
 infinitely wise, good, and holy. As He is holy. He 
 
92 EVERY-DAY LIRE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 desires all men to be holy. He has written His law on 
 every man’s heart. When we do wrong we feel self- 
 condemned ; when we do right we are pleased and 
 satisfied with ourselves. What is this but the voice of 
 God speaking in our heart ? 
 
 ‘ The soul does not always remain in union with the 
 body. The last time that I went to the palace of a 
 young zemindar whom I used to visit, the people told 
 me, “ He is gone.” What they said was true. He had 
 not ceased to exist, but had simply left his body, and 
 gone, — where ? to God, to give an account of his deeds. 
 
 ‘ This is what every one of us must do. At the close 
 of our life on earth we must go, like a steward, to 
 render an account to God of the deeds we have done 
 while in the body ; and to receive a reward, or a pun- 
 ishment, according as our acts have been good or 
 bad. 
 
 ‘ Alas ! you will say, who can give a good account 
 of his life ? Who is there that does not commit sin ? 
 
 ‘ My friends, God is willing to pardon your sins if 
 you seek His mercy. It is to tell you this that I have 
 come to your village to-day. Jesus Christ is the 
 Saviour of the world. He died on the cross, and by 
 His death He has made atonement for the sins of all 
 men, and God has promised to forgive all who repent 
 and trust in Christ. Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, 
 and you shall be saved. 
 
 ‘ Now,’ said Mr. Knox, ‘ has any one anything to say, 
 or any question to ask ? ’ 
 
 Runga Rao, the schoolmaster, who had been listening 
 to the address with a keen, suspicious look, like a cat 
 
THE VILLAGE GURU ASKS A QUESTLON 93 
 
 watching a bird, — his thin lips pressed close together, 
 and his little twinkling eyes peering out under his 
 overarching eyebrows, stepped forward and said — 
 
 ‘ We agree to most of the latter part of your address ; 
 but at the beginning you said that going on pilgrimage 
 to Casi, and bathing in sacred rivers, cannot take away 
 our sins.’ 
 
 ‘ No,’ Mr. Knox replied ; ‘ I did not say that. What 
 I said was, that while some of you believe that these 
 ceremonies will remove sin, some do not. Is that 
 statement right or wrong ? I quoted to you what your 
 own poets say about it, and I showed you, that whereas 
 your doctrines are doubtful, and are rejected by many, 
 the doctrines that we teach you are true and cannot 
 be denied.’ 
 
 All admitted that this was correct, and that he had 
 said nothing that they could object to. 
 
 ‘ There are some questions, which, if you can spare a 
 little time, we should like to ask,’ said a smooth-shaven, 
 solemn, consequential Brahmin called Muthu Iyer, the 
 village guru. He was held in high esteem on account 
 of his office, which was to teach the Sanscrit prayers or 
 charms to his disciples. 
 
 ‘ I am entirely at your disposal,’ said Mr. Knox. 
 
 ‘ Select a guru, or some man of importance to propose 
 the questions, and I will answer them to the best of 
 my ability. Are you a guru ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes, I am a guru,” said Muthu Iyer. 
 
 ‘ What question do you wish to ask ? ’ 
 
 There was a pause for some time. At length Muthu 
 Iyer said : 
 
94 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA, 
 
 ‘ Are there many gods, or only one ? ’ 
 
 The missionary replied by asking, ‘ Do you know 
 how to find out whether a nation is ruled by one or by 
 two sovereigns ? ’ 
 
 ‘No, I do not,’ said the guru. 
 
 ‘ By the image on the money of the country,’ replied 
 the missionary. ‘ You see this rupee,’ said he, taking 
 one from his pocket, and holding it up. ‘ The image 
 of the Queen is stamped upon it. If Intiia were 
 governed by two rulers, a king and a queen together, 
 there would be two heads on this rupee. Now, God 
 has put His stamp on every man. He has written 
 His law in the conscience. “ Do right. Do no wrong.” 
 Is there any man in the world who will say, that 
 what is wrong ought to be done, and that what is 
 right ought not to be done? There is no such man. 
 
 ‘ All the coins in a country are not alike in all 
 respects ; some are made of brown copper ; some of 
 white silver ; some of ruddy gold ; yet all are alike in 
 one respect ; all are stamped with the image of the king. 
 In like manner, although some men are black and 
 some white, some bold and enterprising, others timid 
 and cautious, some fitted to command, others born to 
 obey ; all bear in their heart the image of their 
 Creator, viz., the absolute conviction that whatever is 
 right ought to be done, and that whatever is wrong 
 ought not to be done. One God alone could have 
 written this decree on the human heart.’ 
 
 This answer, which must have seemed to all who 
 heard it a striking and original way of'looking at the 
 matter, was listened to with solemn attention. A smile 
 
POLYTHEISM AND POLYGAMY. 
 
 95 
 
 of satisfaction passed over the countenances of some, 
 as they said, ‘ Yes, that is right ; the answer is good.’ 
 
 ‘ I have another question to ask,’ said the guru. 
 
 ‘ Why do men worship so many gods ? ’ 
 
 ‘ For the same reason,’ replied the missionary, ‘ that 
 some men marry so many wives. God has appointed 
 for each man one wife. The proof of this is, that an 
 equal number of male and female children are born 
 every year. Some men, however, not content with 
 God’s appointment, choose two, or five, and if a sultan, 
 two or three hundred. 
 
 ‘ In the same way, not willing to serve the true God, 
 many men have invented gods to suit their taste and 
 fancy. Thieves worship the god of theft. Covetous 
 men worship Lutchmee, the goddess of riches. Licen- 
 tious men worship Krishna.’ 
 
 ‘Your answers are good, and I have no more ques- 
 tions to ask,’ said the guru ; and gravely making salaam, 
 he turned and walked away, in a dignified manner, along 
 with two or three others. 
 
 After they had gone a short distance, they made signs 
 to the rest to follow ; but these preferred to remain a 
 little longer, to hear the answers to the questions which 
 Runga Rao, the schoolmaster, was now putting. 
 
 ‘ Why,’ he inquired, ‘ did you say that it was wrong 
 to bathe in sacred rivers ? ’ 
 
 ‘ There is nothing wrong in bathing in a river,’ said 
 Mr. Knox. ‘ The fault is in supposing that the water of 
 the river can wash away sin. If you bathe as a sign that 
 you determine to abandon your sins, and that you trust 
 in God’s mercy for forgiveness, it is a good and com- 
 
96 EVERY-DAV LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 mendable act It is with this meaning and purpose that 
 those who become Christians have water sprinkled over 
 them.’ 
 
 ‘ That is why we bathe too,’ said Runga Rao. 
 
 ‘ Your motives may be all that is good,’ said Mr. Knox, 
 good-naturedly, ‘ but I know that very many Hindus 
 bathe in certain rivers in order to wash away their sins.’ 
 ‘ It may be,’ replied Runga Rao, with a solemn face, 
 ‘ but there are no such men in this village.’ 
 
 The hypocrite ! Well aware that the religious meaning 
 and purpose of the Hindu bathings and washings could 
 not be defended, he adopted, in this bold way, the 
 missionary’s more reasonable explanation. 
 
 After some further conversation Mr. Knox rose and 
 went away. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MY FRIEND RUNGAN-A PRACTICAL JOKE- 
 PERSECUTING A CHRISTIAN. 
 
 T NEVER could make friends easily. Some people, by 
 ^ a happy frankness and forwardness of disposition, 
 easily introduce themselves to others, enter into con- 
 versation with them, and establish bonds of union, of 
 sympathy, and of mutual action. They make of every 
 one they meet, if not an attached friend, at least an 
 agreeable acquaintance. 
 
 I had so much of that awe, that undefinable fear with 
 which most strangers at first regard each other, that I 
 seldom could make a first advance. 
 
 My friends, therefore, have always been few, and my 
 attachment to them has been, in most cases, warm and 
 enthusiastic. 
 
 At this time my chief friend and companion was a 
 boy, two or three years my senior, called Rungan. A 
 large mouth and thick lips, broad, exposed nostrils, 
 and high cheek-bones made his face look coarse and 
 vulgar, and a front tooth, which had been broken with a 
 stone in a fight with some village boys, gave a touch of 
 comicality to his appearance. Possessed of more force 
 
98 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 of character than is usual among Hindu boys, he was 
 the ringleader in every mischief, and was fond of ruling 
 and ordering others about. On this account few of 
 the older boys liked him. They resented the tone of 
 authority with which he addressed them. 
 
 He was singularly frank and fearless ; if he told a 
 lie, it was usually rather to justify himself than from 
 fear of consequences. 
 
 One evening, not long after, my return from Peroor, 
 Rungan said to me, ‘ Come, let us hide somewhere, and 
 I will show you some fun.’ 
 
 ‘ What are you going to do ? ’ I asked. 
 
 ‘We will give the women a fright. Come, and I will 
 show you.’ 
 
 No one saw us as we ran out of the village. He 
 climbed up into a tamarind tree, and I darted into a 
 field of ripening cholum. The long thick stalks and 
 large round heads of the cholum rose a foot above 
 me, and concealed me perfectly. The darkness was 
 increasing rapidly. 
 
 ‘ When the women pass by you must cry “ boo ! ” and 
 I will drop some tamarinds on them,’ said Rungan to 
 me from the tree ; ‘ they will think it’ is a devil.’ 
 
 We had not long to wait till we heard the voices of 
 a party of village women coming along, single file. 
 Allowing those in front to pass, I gave forth an un- 
 earthly howl from the cholum, and Rungan, faithful to 
 his engagement, dropped down tamarinds on them. 
 The effect was instantaneous. All the women screamed. 
 Those in front ran, while those immediately under the 
 tree seemed transfixed with terror. Some fell flat on 
 
A MYSTERIOUS CONVERSATION. 
 
 99 
 
 the ground, and others ran trembling and screaming. 
 Those behind ran back, and went to the village another 
 way. 
 
 I pushed my way through the cholum, and Rungan 
 presently joined me on the other side of the field, where we 
 both lay hid, rather frightened at the success of our joke. 
 
 ‘ If they find out that we did it,’ said I, ‘they will be 
 terribly angry, and we shall get well beaten.’ 
 
 ‘ They will never suspect us,’ said Rungan. ‘ They 
 will be sure to think it was a devil ; and if they do find 
 us out, we can easily say that we did not mean any- 
 thing ; that it was only for fun.’ 
 
 ‘ Hush ! ’ said I, ‘ there is some one coming.’ 
 
 We lay quite still, and by-and-by two figures, one 
 of whom I thought was Runga Rao, the schoolmaster, 
 passed close to our hiding-place. 
 
 ‘ We must do something to get him out of the 
 way,’ said one, who, by his voice, I was now sure was 
 Runga Rao. 
 
 ‘ His father is the most respectable man in the 
 Agrarum (Brahmins’ Street),’ said the other. 
 
 ‘He does not disgrace his father and his family alone, 
 but the whole Agrarum,’ said the schoolmaster. 
 
 ‘ It won’t be easy to do it with poison,’ said the other. 
 
 His servant cooks all his food for him at the choultry.’ 
 
 ‘ Couldn’t we bribe his servant ? ’ 
 
 They had now gone so far that we could not hear 
 what reply the other made. Rungan and I were, at 
 first, almost as frightened as the women we had sent 
 screaming home. It is scarcely less dangerous to be 
 the discoverer of a plot than the victim of one. 
 
loo EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 If these Brahmins were to find out that we had 
 overheard them, and that we shared their secret, they 
 would perhaps do something to get us out of the 
 way also. 
 
 Poisoning is very easily accomplished in India, and 
 sudden death from cholera being so common, and the 
 dead being so quickly taken away and burned, detection 
 is difficult. 
 
 ‘What are we to do?’ said I. 
 
 ‘ We must go to the choultry, and see who this 
 Brahmin is that they wish to kill. I think it must be 
 the old pundit’s son, who went to Coimbatore some 
 time ago, and has joined the Christians.’ 
 
 ‘ If he has become a Christian, and brought dis- 
 grace on his caste, it is quite right to kill him,’ 
 said I. 
 
 ‘ I don’t think so,’ said Rungan. ‘ I used to think 
 like that before I went to the mission school at Coim- 
 batore, but I have changed my mind on that subject, 
 and a great many others. Christianity is a good 
 religion. If any one chooses to join it, he ought not 
 to be interfered with.’ 
 
 When I reached home, two or three women were 
 telling, with loud voices and animated gesticulations, 
 the fright they had had. 
 
 ‘ It was certainly a devil,’ said one. 
 
 ‘ I am sure it was,’ said another, ‘ for I saw him. I 
 was the last. All the rest had run away, and I had 
 fallen down with fear. When I got up, my knees 
 trembled so I could hardly walk ; I could not run. 
 Just as I was turning the corner to enter the village, I 
 
SUNRISE. 
 
 lOI 
 
 looked back, and saw a great black thing coming down 
 the tree.’ 
 
 ‘ The gods preserve us ! What was it like ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I was too frightened to look long,’ said the speaker ; 
 ‘but I thought I saw great horns, and large, horrible 
 teeth.’ 
 
 ‘ I will never go that road again,’ said on e ; ‘at least, 
 not when it is dark.’ 
 
 ‘Nor I, nor I,’ said all the others. 
 
 Few sights are more beautiful than sunrise on 
 the plains of India. The darkness changes, like a 
 dissolving view, into grey twilight. A faint streak of 
 light appears in the east, and spreads upward in the 
 sky. The stars look sickly ; the dark grey and purple 
 hues of morning become silver grey, and then the sun, 
 suffusing the eastern sky with a warm blush, peeps 
 above the horizon, and as if in eager haste to dispossess 
 its enemy, night, of its dominion, mounts upward, dis- 
 closing itself a great ball of fire. 
 
 It was on a morning such as this, the morning after 
 our adventure in the cholum field, that I arose before 
 daybreak and went out to meet Rungan. 
 
 Not a speck was to be seen in the glorious dome 
 ov’erhead. The village soon awaked. The children 
 came out of the houses and commenced their play. 
 
 ‘ Like sportive deer they coursed about, 
 
 And shouted as they ran.’ 
 
 Groups of labourers, bullocks carelessly dragging 
 between them the light wooden plough, here and there 
 a farmer carrying the plough on his own shoulders, set 
 out on their way to the fields. 
 
102 EVERV-DAY LIEE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 A stream of women, clad in scarlet, and yellow, and 
 blue, with large, bright brass water-vessels balanced on 
 their heads or supported against their sides, proceeded 
 to the village tank. Their bare arms were elaborately 
 tattooed, and were adorned with heavy silver armlets and 
 glass bangles. Their necks shone with strings of red 
 coral beads, and their noses and ears were illuminated 
 with jewels of gold. Some were going to the tank 
 simply to draw water, others to bathe and wash their 
 clothes. 
 
 In loud and animated tones they chatted as they 
 went. 
 
 ‘ How have you been since your marriage ? ’ inquired 
 a middle-aged woman, called Ammay, of a tall graceful 
 girl, who was walking in front of her. ‘ I hope your hus- 
 band is kind to you.’ 
 
 Meenatchy, without looking round, replied, ‘ I don’t 
 think he cares for me. He never speaks to me.’ 
 
 ‘ I am sorry to hear that,’ said Ammay. ‘ He was 
 eager enough to get you.’ 
 
 ‘ I thought that I should be happy. Before I was 
 married, my husband’s mother used to treat me very 
 kindly — give me sweetmeats and praised my beauty. 
 Now, she and her daughters are always finding fault 
 with me. I can do nothing right.’ 
 
 ‘ I am sorry for you,’ said Ammay. ‘ But such is our 
 fate. It is a punishment for sins committed in a former 
 birth. If a young wife breaks a mud pot, it is gold ; if 
 the mother-in-law breaks it, it is only mud. Have they 
 been setting your husband against you ? ’ 
 
 ‘ They don’t speak to him much when I am present, 
 
A LOVE-PHILTRE. 
 
 103 
 
 but they are all on one side against me,’ said Meenatchy, 
 with a sigh. 
 
 ‘ They are afraid that your husband will ’ /e you, 
 and give his earnings into your hand, and that you will 
 become the mistress of the house,’ said Ammay. 
 
 ‘ I am sure I don’t wish for that. If they treat me 
 like this, it will be better for me to die. Is there nothing 
 that I can do ? ’ 
 
 Up till this time Meenatchy had been walking in 
 front, and the conversation had been carried on without 
 their seeing each other’s faces. Now, in her distress, 
 Meenatchy turned round to Ammay for her answer. 
 
 ‘ What mark is that on your cheek ? It was not there 
 before you were married,’ asked Ammay. 
 
 ‘ My mother-in-law did this with a fire-brand when I 
 was cooking one day.’ 
 
 ‘ Ah ! I see,’ said Ammay. ‘ They wish to spoil your 
 good looks. They seem determined to prevent your 
 husband loving you.’ 
 
 ‘Alas! What am I to do?’ said Meenatchy. ‘Is 
 there no way of winning him to my side ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I know an old woman that can supply you with 
 some medicine to give him that will make him love 
 you.’ 
 
 ‘ Do you, indeed ? Is it a very strong medicine? ’ 
 
 ‘ You know Unbay who was married last year? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes,’ said Meenatchy. ‘She was treated so cruelly 
 by her mother-in-law and by her husband that she ran 
 away to her parents.’ 
 
 ‘ Well, her husband waited a while, and when she did 
 not return he went to coax her back. He stayed two or 
 
104 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 three days with her in her father’s house ; and while he 
 was there she gave him some of this medicine. Now 
 he loves her only, and is quite turned against his 
 mother.’ 
 
 ‘ Will you get me some of this medicine, and I will 
 put it in his food ? ’ said Meenatchy. 
 
 They had now reached the square tank, with its four 
 flights of granite steps leading down to a pool, in 
 which men, women, and children were bathing, washing 
 their clothes, and lifting out the green, unwholesome- 
 looking water to carry to their homes. 
 
 ‘ Have you heard,’ said one of the women, who was 
 resting her water-vessel on her knee, on the top step of 
 the tank, preparatory to lifting it on to her head, ‘have 
 you heard that we are to pour water on the gods this 
 evening ? ’ 
 
 ‘No; is it so? Ah I well, the gods are angry. No 
 rain has fallen for three months. If we pour water on 
 them, perhaps they will take pity and send us some 
 rain,’ said Meenatchy, and stepping down, she loosened 
 one end of her cloth, dipped it in the water, swung it 
 over one shoulder, and dashed it on the lowest granite 
 step. Repeating this till that portion of her cloth was 
 clean, she undid another part, and treated it in the same 
 way. At length, screening herself with the end that she 
 had washed, she let that which was next her body slip 
 off ; then tying the wet end hastily, she completed the 
 washing of her cloth. Near her a man, with nothing on 
 but a small strip of cloth, was washing himself 
 
 Seeing Rungan approach the tank, I joined him, and 
 we sauntered together towards the choultry. A group 
 
JFHV HE CAME. 
 
 105 
 
 of Brahmins were there, some standing, others sitting 
 on the verandah, engaged in eager conversation with a 
 young man, who, although he looked like a Brahmin, was 
 dressed differently from any of the others. Instead of a 
 cloth thrown over his naked shoulders he wore a long 
 white coat. His features were regular and delicately 
 formed, like those of a young woman, and there was a 
 look of frank sincerity in his face, very different from the 
 sneering, sneaking appearance of many of those who 
 were conversing with him. 
 
 The schoolmaster, his small ferret eyes peering from 
 their deep sockets, and his thin lips pressed together, 
 stood listening to the conversation, but took no part in 
 it. The group consisted mostly of idle, lazy men, who 
 subsisted on the small income of their lands, and on the 
 gifts of the lower castes, and who spent their time in 
 mere idleness and debauchery. 
 
 ‘ What have you come back for ? ’ asked a short fat 
 man, with round face and small nose. 
 
 ‘ He has had enough of beef and brandy, and wishes 
 to be restored to his caste again,’ sneered a thin cynical 
 youth. 
 
 ‘ No,’ said the young man whom they were addressing, 
 ‘ I don’t wish to be received into caste again. You know, 
 Soobrao, why I have come,’ said he to the fat Brahmin. 
 ‘ Here is your letter promising to let me take away 
 your daughter, whom I have married, if I only came 
 to fetch her.’ 
 
 ‘ Do you think she would consent to live with a 
 pariah ? ’ said the other, with a sneer. 
 
 ‘ If you refuse to give me your daughter, wh}" then 
 
io6 EJ^ERV-njy LI EE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 did you ask me to come here ? Is it to get me into your 
 power again ? ’ 
 
 ‘ You have brought disgrace on your family and your 
 caste by joining the religion of the pariahs.’ 
 
 ‘It is not the religion of pariahs. You call me a 
 pariah ; I am no more a pariah than the collector is, or 
 the governor. A man may be a murderer, and an 
 adulterer, and you don’t call him a pariah ; but because 
 I worship the true God and obey my conscience, you 
 call me a pariah.’ 
 
 ‘ Couldn’t you have worshipped God as we do, with- 
 out disgracing us all by becoming a Christian ? ’ said an 
 old Brahmin, with white eyebrows, and a thin, white 
 moustache. 
 
 ‘ Worship God as you do ! ’ exclaimed the youth, with 
 indignation, ‘ adore the licentious Krishna, meditate on 
 the vicious Vishnu, bow down to a stone, and have my 
 offerings taken to the temple in a procession of harlots ! 
 It is because I won’t do this, that you brand me with the 
 name of pariah.’ 
 
 ‘ He is mad,’ said one. ‘ What is the use of talking to 
 him ? Come, let us go.’ 
 
 When all had gone, Rungan said to him — 
 
 ‘ These people are your enemies ; they will injure you 
 if they can.’ 
 
 ‘ Yes,’ he replied, with a sigh ; ‘ I ought to have 
 known that there was no use coming here ; but they 
 wrote to me so often that I thought they were sin- 
 cere, and that I should be able to get my affairs 
 settled.’ 
 
 ‘ Be on your guard,’ said Rungan. ‘ I don’t like the way 
 
IVE LAY OUR PLANS. 
 
 107 
 
 I saw some of them speaking together. I think they are 
 making a plot against you.’ 
 
 ‘Very likely. They tried once to poison me. I am 
 careful now, and I will leave to-morrow morning.’ 
 
 ‘ If anything is done it will be to-night,’ said Rungan 
 to me, as we walked away. ‘ What do you say to our 
 slipping out and hiding somewhere ?’ 
 
 - ‘ What if we are found out ? They will kill us too,’ 
 said I. 
 
 ‘ There is no fear of that,’ replied Rungan. ‘ No one 
 suspects us. I know a glorious place to hide, where we 
 can see the front of the choultry, and no one can see us. 
 I will meet you in the cholum field near the tree where 
 the devil appeared the other night.’ 
 
 Soon after supper, declaring that I was tired and very 
 sleepy, I lay down before the others and pretended to 
 fall fast asleep. I waited till all had lain down, and till 
 the heavy breathing and loud snores taught me that I 
 could safely rise and slip out. The sleep of a Hindu is 
 usually very sound. He can lie down anywhere, on a 
 hard granite stone, on the rough ground under a tree, in 
 a small, hot, stifling room, at any time, and fall so fast 
 asleep that a pistol might be fired over his head without 
 awaking him. 
 
 As I slipped out a dog barked, and soon another, a 
 little way off, gave an answering howl. I ran quickly 
 till I reached the cholum field. No one had seen me. 
 The night was exquisitely balmy — neither cold nor 
 warm. The moon had not yet risen, and the cloudless 
 dome of heaven was as if powdered over with sparkling 
 diamond dust. 
 
loS EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 ‘ Let us creep along through the cholum/ said Rungan, 
 whom I found waiting for me, ‘ till we come to the hedge 
 that goes in front of the choultry.’ 
 
 We had not lain long in our hiding-place in one of the 
 gaps in the hedge, before we saw two muffled figures come 
 and stand looking at the Brahmin Christian who was 
 sleeping on the verandah ; his servant was also fast 
 asleep a few yards from him. The two plotters lifted a- 
 large granite stone, that had been cut for a step, and 
 placed it on the breast and neck of the sleeper. He gave 
 a groan and they ran away. Rungan sprang forward, I 
 followed, and we exerted all our strength to help the 
 youth to free himself He gasped for breath, and stared 
 wildly round for a minute. 
 
 ‘ Who are you? ’ he said. ‘ Did }'ou put this stone on 
 my chest ? ’ 
 
 ‘ No,’ said Rungan. ‘ We are the two boys that spoke 
 to }^ou this morning. We thought some mischief would 
 be done to you, so we watched, and when the men who 
 put this stone on you ran away, we came to help you.’ 
 
 ‘ I must start at once,’ said he. ‘ I will never trust 
 myself in this village again.’ 
 
 He awoke his servant, ordered him to tie his brass 
 drinking vessel and other things in a handkerchief, and 
 thanking us for the kindness we had done him, started 
 off into the darkness. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 HINDU FESTIVALS— MEENATCHY’S MARRIED LIFE— 
 THE CAR FEAST. 
 
 HE festivals were our gala-days. They brought rest, 
 
 recreation, and excitement into the dull monotony 
 of our existence. Each festival was a season of pleasure 
 and joyous activity. No one was left to sit idle, or to 
 choose his own method of spending the day : every one 
 had something to do — a part to perform, now as an 
 actor, now as a spectator. The women, especially, 
 looked forward to these occasions with eager anticipa- 
 tion. Stores had to be laid in, the house cleaned and 
 whitewashed, and, when the important day arrived, the 
 body had to be bathed and rubbed with saffron, the hair 
 to be combed, oiled, and plaited with flowers ; fine 
 clothes and splendid jewels to be taken out and worn, 
 friends to be visited, callers to be entertained, and all 
 the gay excitement of the feast to be enjoyed. 
 
 In writing thus, I do not, of course, refer to the minor 
 holidays that take place every new moon. These were 
 welcome, indeed, as we had no other day of rest in the 
 month ; but they were not celebrated with any pomp. 
 Those whose parents were dead fasted, and performed 
 
no EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 ceremonies *for the repose and satisfaction of their souls. 
 Others merely rested, by abstaining from their ordinary 
 work. 
 
 The first great feast of the year is the Pongol, or 
 harvest feast. The house having been thoroughly white- 
 washed without and within, the floors purified with cow 
 dung, all the old pots broken and thrown away, and 
 their places supplied with new ones from the potter, all 
 the men, women, and children in the house assemble in 
 the hall, and sit in separate groups. 
 
 A Brahmin priest enters, and taking some of the new 
 rice from the large pot, offers it to a picture of one of 
 the gods, drawn with chalk on the floor. 
 
 After this act of worship, the rice is distributed to all 
 present, and solemnly eaten. The beggars waiting 
 outside receive alms of money and grain, and presents 
 are sent to the Brahmins. 
 
 To feed and bestow gifts on the Brahmins forms a 
 part of the ceremonial observed at every festival ; and 
 many of these men are so idle and lazy, that they are . 
 content to subsist entirely on what they obtain in this 
 way. They have the convictions and sentiments of your 
 born gentleman — that nothing is so degrading as work, 
 and that there is no dishonour in living as drones in the 
 hive on the industry of others. 
 
 On one of the days of the feast worship is paid to 
 the sun, as the great fertiliser, and on another to the 
 bullocks and cows. Next to the sun, have they not been 
 the most serviceable in producing the harvest, and in 
 ministering to the welfare of the village? 
 
 The bullocks — these large, docile, stolid creatures. 
 
COIF PONGOL. 
 
 1 1 1 
 
 who plough the land, irrigate the fields, and draw the 
 carts ; the cows, whose gifts are so valuable — the milk 
 as food, the dung, when mixed with water, as the chief 
 means of purifying the houses and the temples ; when 
 made into cakes and dried in the sun, as fuel for cook- 
 ing ; and when reduced to ashes, as a means of freeing 
 the soul from sin. These animals are washed and 
 ornamented with flowers, and their horns are painted 
 with bright colours. They are then led in procession 
 round the village, incense is burnt before them, and the 
 people, falling down, worship them as gods. 
 
 In different places these* customs vary somewhat, 
 but what I have described was the usual practice in 
 Poothoor. 
 
 I remember one occasion when my father was per- 
 forming the cow pongol. He had ornamented the cattle 
 shed with garlands of mango leaves, and with- bunches 
 of cocoanut flowers, leaves, and fruit. The floor of the 
 shed was made pure and clean with white sand. In a 
 spot in the middle, made sacred by being smeared with 
 cow dung, a large pot, containing a mixture of milk and 
 water, was boiling. My father was watching it intently. 
 My father’s brother and I, with some of the servants 
 and the women of the household, stood behind him, 
 greatly interested in what was going on. A group of 
 villagers were looking on from the outside. 
 
 ‘ Ayaswamey is a prosperous man,’ said Veeran, 
 Meenatchy’s husband ; ‘ his pongol always comes 
 
 right.’ 
 
 ‘ He is kind to the Brahmins,’ replied Runga Rao ; 
 ‘ that is the reason why his pot boils so beautifully.’ 
 
1 12 EVERV-nAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 If the froth from the milk and water boils over and 
 flows down the sides of the vessel, it is supposed to be a 
 good sign ; if it does not swell and overflow, the gods 
 are angry ; if it rises and falls over towards the north 
 or the east, there will be much prosperity during the 
 year ; if towards the south or west, bad luck will 
 come. 
 
 ‘ I am always unlucky,’ said Veeran. ‘ Last year, 
 when I was making pongol, the froth seemed to sink 
 instead of rising in the pot. At last I got into a rage 
 and dashed the whole thing in pieces.’ 
 
 ‘Ah! ah! You know the proverb, “ Anger, sin, and 
 crime — these three are equal,” ’ said the schoolmaster. 
 
 ‘Oh, just what might be expected. One of my best 
 cows died, and a fine young bull-calf strayed away, and 
 I never got it again. 
 
 ‘You must examine your pot more carefully next 
 time,’ said the postmaster. ‘ There was very likely a 
 small hole in the bottom which had more to do with 
 the failure of your pongol than the anger of your gods.’ 
 
 ‘ It may be so ; but why had my pot a hole in it ? and 
 why did my cow die, and my calf stray?’ 
 
 ‘ It was the will of the gods, I suppose,’ said the post- 
 master. ‘ The chief thing, however, is to take care of 
 the cattle. The English make no pongol, and their 
 cows don’t die.’ 
 
 ‘ The English are the curse of the country,’ cried 
 the schoolmaster, in a rage ; ‘ with their new-fangled 
 education, their language, and their atheism, they are 
 destroying all our customs, and simply training people 
 to be idle and discontented — “ mere troublers without 
 
TOOL FEAST 
 
 113 
 
 design, repiners without hope, and schemers without 
 self-control.” ’ 
 
 ‘I don’t know about all that,’ said Veeran, ‘but I 
 know that we never get proper rain now, since the 
 English came and covered the country with their rail- 
 ways and telegraphs.’ 
 
 My father had by this time finished the ceremony of 
 watching the pot, burning incense before it, and suppli- 
 cating the god for a blessing during the year. 
 
 ‘ Boyan,’ he said, turning to one of the servants, ‘ take 
 these flowers and plantains, and tie them round the 
 necks of the bullocks. Here are some coins and betel 
 nuts to tie with the flowers.’ 
 
 ‘ Shall I loose the young bull also, sir ? He is very 
 wild,’ said Boyan. 
 
 ‘Yes; put the money and flowers on them all, and 
 drive them round the village. The pongol has been 
 good to-day, and we must not curtail any of the 
 ceremonies. If the bull hurts any one it will be their 
 fate. What can we do ? ’ 
 
 The bullocks were adorned and driven out of the 
 shed. They had been well fed, and kept without work 
 for several days ; so that they galloped off, tails high 
 in the air, tossing their heads, and kicking wildly. The 
 village youths rushed after them, and with shouts and 
 excited antics sent them careering along, while the 
 more daring tried to snatch the flowers and money from 
 their necks. Happily, the day closed with no accident, 
 and the exhausted animals, their flowers and gifts all 
 taken from them, were driven quietly home to their shed. 
 
 The next great feast of the year is the Tool Feast. 
 
 H 
 
114 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 It usually takes place in the month of September, and, 
 in its meaning and purpose somewhat resembles the 
 pongol. The implements of labour, the means by 
 which each man obtains his livelihood, are, for the time> 
 regarded as gods, and solemnly worshipped. Soldiers 
 place their guns, bullets, swords, flags, belts, and other 
 things in a heap, employ a Brahmin priest to consecrate 
 them, and then, ornamenting the ground in front of 
 them, burning incense, and presenting offerings of 
 flowers, fruits, and other things, they bow down before 
 them, and pray that these weapons and instruments of 
 war may make them victorious over all their enemies. 
 In the same way the carpenter worships his square, 
 compass, axe, hammer, chisel, and nails ; the blacksmith 
 his pincers, bellows, and anvil ; the bricklayer his trowel, 
 smoothing board, and spirit level ; the barber his scissors, 
 razor, and strop ; the tailor his needle, thimble, scissors, 
 thread, and smoothing iron ; the shopman his scales and 
 weights ; and schoolboys their books, slate, pencil, pen, 
 and ink bottle. 
 
 We schoolboys used, dressed in our best, and carrying 
 a short stick in each hand, to go along with the master 
 to the houses of our parents. When we entered a house 
 we immediately arranged ourselves in a circle, back to 
 back, and face to face ; sang a song, and danced a kind 
 of reel, keeping time to the music and to the blows 
 which we struck on our partners’ sticks. The dance 
 and song had a very pleasing effect. This is the only 
 occasion on which Hindus enjoy the pleasure of the 
 dance. With kind words, and with gifts to our teacher, 
 we were dismissed from each house. 
 
A HERO. 
 
 1^5 
 
 The most stirring and animated scene was displayed 
 when the idol, mounted on a large wooden horse or 
 lion, was taken out of the temple to go a-hunting. The 
 hobby horse, with the god fastened to it by ropes, was 
 placed on the shoulders of a few of the strongest and 
 fleetest men in the village ; a Brahmin priest, with a bow 
 and arrow in his hand, sat beside the idol. Suddenly, 
 the signal being given, the bearers set off at the top 
 of their speed to a place where a plantain tree had 
 been fixed. They dashed round it three times, and 
 then the priest aimed an arrow at the tree, and the 
 people, with a great shout, rushed upon it, cut it down, 
 and every one snatched a piece of its large leaves and 
 fixed it in his hair or in his turban. 
 
 If the juice that comes from the tree was of a white 
 colour, it was a good sign ; if it was tinged with red, 
 the omen was considered to forbode calamities. 
 
 At this feast, fathers-in-law entertain and bestow gifts 
 on their sons-in-law, and in many other ways the festival 
 is accompanied with much cheerful social activity. 
 
 The Theebavali festival, which takes place in October, 
 is held in commemoration of a victory said to have been 
 gained by the popular god, Krishna, over a ferocious giant. 
 
 The story is, that this giant so afflicted and oppressed, 
 not only all the inhabitants of the world, but the gods 
 themselves, that, provoked beyond endurance, they 
 appealed for relief to the chief deity, called Juthiran. 
 Juthiran paid a visit to Krishna, and represented the case 
 to him. He at once set off for the giant’s city, fought 
 with him the whole day, slew him, and delivered i6,ioo 
 virgins, 6,000 four-tusked elephants, and an innumerable 
 
1 6 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 number of horses, etc., etc., that were in his possession. 
 On that day, Krishna was prevented from bathing till 
 after sunset. On this day, therefore, the people think 
 that to bathe by day would be a sin, but that to bathe 
 by night is an act of merit, and every one enjoys, during 
 the night, the luxury of an oil bath. They do not 
 plunge into a tub of oil, but every one has his body well 
 rubbed with oil and afterwards washed with soap nut 
 and water. 
 
 Every one puts on new clothes. They fry and eat 
 sweet cakes, give presents, and shout, ‘To-day our distress 
 was removed, the giant was destroyed, and we escaped.’ 
 
 The whole village is illuminated, and fireworks are 
 burned. 
 
 It would be tedious to describe all the feasts, with 
 their peculiar ceremonies, that occur at different periods. 
 All have much in common, and yet each has a meaning 
 and a ceremonial peculiar to itself. 
 
 Few know, and few care to know, the meaning of the 
 ceremonies -they perform. To the vast majority the 
 festivals are simply seasons of fun, enjoyment, and 
 display. 
 
 Of late years, much knowledge on these matters, from 
 a source and in a way that no one could have anticipated, 
 is spreading among the people. Strange to say, it is 
 from the missionaries and their Christian helpers that 
 the people are learning the meaning of many of their 
 heathen ceremonies. 
 
 Formerly most people were content to observe the 
 rites and customs of their religion simply as a matter of 
 form and custom, but now many are studying the doc- 
 
MEENATCHY. 
 
 117 
 
 trines and philosophy of Hinduism, in order to meet 
 and answer the statements of the Christian preachers 
 and the Christian books. The result is not always 
 favourable to Hinduism. 
 
 Like all village children, Meenatchy had grown up to 
 maidenhood in a free, open, unrestrained manner. 
 
 She was active and cheerful — had a merry twinkle in 
 her eye, and much grace and vivacity of movement. 
 Her face was pleasing, because it suggested good sense 
 and kindliness of temper. It was rare that Meenatchy 
 gave way to those fits of passion and caprice so common 
 among Hindu women. She was fond of playing tricks, 
 and would lay a plot, pilfer, and lie with the gravest and 
 most composed expression. 
 
 Although never allowed to forget that she was only a 
 girl, she had been a favourite with many, and her life 
 had been a happy one. 
 
 When six years old she was married to her cousin — a 
 boy four years her senior. They had played together 
 among the other village children, and both, of course, 
 knew the bond that united them. With the close of her 
 girlhood, almost all her happiness ceased. 
 
 A few weeks before the final ratification of her mar- 
 riage, she had been closely confined to the house. 
 
 Her husband had indeed taken her home with music 
 and the show of honour, but when she crossed the 
 threshold as a wife her sorrows commenced. 
 
 She and her husband formed but an insignificant 
 portion of a patriarchal family. Besides her father-in- 
 law and mother-in-law, there were in the house a 
 broken-hearted, discontented widow, and three sisters-in- 
 
1 1 8 E VER Y-DA Y LIFE IN SO UTH INDIA . 
 
 law, who were married but had not yet grown up to 
 womanhood. Her mother-in-law and sisters-in-law 
 treated her worse than a slave. They not only gave her 
 all the mean work of the house to do, but watched her 
 with jealous eyes, and found fault with everything she 
 did. Seeing her careful to keep herself neat and tidy, 
 they would say, ‘ Are you a temple girl, that you spend 
 your whole time in combing your hair and tying your 
 cloth?’ 
 
 When, overcome by their reproaches, she became care- 
 less about her appearance, they would say, ‘You are a 
 regular sloven, always dirty and untidy.’ 
 
 iMeenatchy was naturally of a frank, confiding, trustful 
 disposition. She delighted to take those around her 
 into her confidence, to tell them her thoughts and 
 fancies — any piece of news she heard, or any event she 
 saw. 
 
 At first she had talked in this artless way to her 
 husband’s mother and sisters ; but they treated her with 
 so much coldness, sneered at her sensibility, and cast up 
 to her the very confidences that in the openness of her 
 heart she had given them, that it was little to be 
 wondered at that she became silent and reserved, and 
 sought elsewhere the companionship and sympathy that 
 she could not find in her own home. 
 
 At first her husband was disinclined to listen to the 
 slanders of his mother and sisters against his wife, and 
 would sometimes take her part against them. 
 
 This only increased their ill-will, and made them 
 persecute him along with his wife. The food would be 
 late ; the curry would be spoiled ; there was always 
 
SCOLDING. 
 
 119 
 
 something wrong, and the blame was invariably thrown 
 on Meenatchy. 
 
 At length they gained their object. The young wife’s 
 temper was soured ; she became careless about her 
 person, and quarrelled with her husband. Only then, 
 when Veeran’s mind was turned against his wife, when 
 he began to abuse and beat her, and refuse her nice 
 clothes and jewels, only then was a measure of peace 
 restored to the household. Veeran became a favourite 
 with his mother and sisters, and Meenatchy was left to 
 sorrow alone. 
 
 Her only comfort was the thought that, by-and-by, 
 she would, perhaps, be a mother, and even a stepmother, 
 that her turn for being honoured would come, and that 
 she would exercise the same authority over others as 
 was now being exercised over her. One day, as I 
 entered the doorway of her house, I heard loud talking, 
 and looking in I saw the mother-in-law standing, and 
 with excited gestures pouring forth a tirade against 
 Meenatchy. 
 
 On the floor beside the angry woman was a little 
 machine, like a mangle, through which she had been 
 passing a quantity of raw cotton to clear the seeds from 
 it. Her two daughters were sitting on the floor, grinding 
 corn with a small hand-mill, consisting of two circular 
 stones, one of which they were causing to revolve on the 
 other. 
 
 Meenatchy was standing, combing and smoothing her 
 hair, and putting a small dot of red powder on her 
 forehead, with the assistance of a looking-glass, about 
 as large as the palm of her hand. 
 
120 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 ‘ Smoothing the hair, tying flowers, and putting a 
 mark on the forehead ! ’ exclaimed her mother-in-law, in 
 a sarcastic tone. ‘ What man is she going to deceive ? 
 See how she adorns herself ! When will her beauty be 
 destroyed ? She’ll be ugly and miserable enough 
 by-and-by ! ’ 
 
 ‘ What have I done,’ said Meenatchy, ‘ that you abuse 
 me so? You are always scolding me.’ 
 
 ‘ Hold your tongue!’ shouted the mother-in-law. ‘Are 
 you the mistress of this house ? No one can look at you 
 or speak to you, but you must give impudence.’ 
 
 ‘ I wish I had never come here to live^’ said Meenatchy. 
 ‘ It would be better for me to die than to suffer what you 
 inflict on me.’ 
 
 ‘ She will be telling her husband, too, and setting 
 him against us,’ said one of the girls at the mill. 
 
 ‘ Let her try to do it,’ said the mother-in-law, with a 
 threatening gesture. 
 
 Seeing the household in this condition, I stayed 
 outside on the front verandah. Presently I heard 
 one or two slaps and loud cries, and almost imme- 
 diately after Meenatchy came running out, sobbing 
 bitterly. 
 
 ‘ Why am I made to suffer like this ?’ she cried ; ‘ I can- 
 not bear it ; I cannot bear it ! ’ 
 
 ‘ Why is your mother-in-law so hard on you ? ’ I 
 asked, trying to comfort her. 
 
 ‘ I do not know,’ she said. ‘ She is always like that. 
 If she does not like me, why did she allow her son to 
 marry me?’ 
 
 I was silent for some time. At length I asked, ‘ Are 
 
THE USE OF PENANCE. 
 
 121 
 
 you going to roll round the temple at the car feast, 
 on Thursday?’ 
 
 ‘ Yes,’ she replied. ‘ I made a vow to do so ; I thought 
 the god might take pity on me, and remove some of my 
 troubles.’ 
 
 ‘ I don’t think it is of any use,’ I replied. ‘ I am to 
 perform the ceremony, too, but if I could escape I should 
 be glad. I don’t believe in it’ 
 
 ‘ But didn’t the god deliver you when you were 
 attacked with cholera? If your parents had not made 
 that vow, perhaps you would have died.’ 
 
 ‘ Why did not the vow save my mother too ? ’ I 
 asked. 
 
 ‘ I don’t know,’ said Meenatchy ; ‘ but if there was 
 no use in the ceremony, so many people would not 
 practise it, nor would our forefathers have established 
 the custom.’ 
 
 ‘ Yes, that is how it is,’ I said. ‘ We must do as others 
 do. I wonder if it really pleases the god to see us rolling 
 in the dirt.’ ’ 
 
 ‘ People say that when the gods see us happy and 
 comfortable they are jealous, and that if we inflict pain 
 on ourselves or do anything disgusting they will not 
 afflict us. All suffering, too, is meritorious. The greater 
 the penance we endure, the less shall we suffer on 
 account of our sins in future births.’ 
 
 ‘ I wish I hadn’t to do it,’ I said ; ‘ but it will be soon 
 over, and then I am going to Coimbatore.’ 
 
 ‘ I heard that,’ said Meenatchy. ‘ You are going to 
 the mission school there to learn English. You will, 
 by-and-by, pass examinations and become a great man ; 
 
12 2 E VER y-DA Y LIFE IN SO UTH INDIA, 
 
 perhaps a Tasildar some day ; then you will be too 
 proud to remember your poor friends.’ 
 
 ‘ I hope not,’ I replied. ‘ If I am ever a Tasildar in 
 this district, I will protect you and see that your hus- 
 band treats you properly. 
 
 ‘ Heigh ho !’ she sighed. ‘ It will be a long time 
 before you will have power enough to do me any 
 good ; but now I must go. My husband will soon 
 return, and he will be angry if he finds me out -here.’ 
 
 So saying she ran into the house, and I wended my 
 way, thoughtfully, homewards. 
 
 Ever since the visit to Peroor I had been restless and 
 dissatisfied. The village life appeared flat and unprofit- 
 able. Deep religious longings, too, had awakened 
 within me. I yearned for some god whom I could really 
 worship, and in whose protection I could confide. I had 
 begun to see that few reverenced the gods whom they 
 professed to serve, and that many disbelieved in them 
 altogether. 
 
 In this dissatisfied, unhappy mood, it was with great 
 pleasure that I learned that my father intended to leave 
 his farm entirely to the care of his brother, and go to 
 live in Coimbatore. 
 
 A few months after the death of my mother, my 
 father had married a young girl, and he intended to 
 prepare a home for her in Coimbatore. 
 
 ‘ After the car feast, and after you have performed the 
 ceremony of Ungaprathat-chanum (of rolling flat on 
 •the ground round the temple), we will go,’ said my 
 father to me. 
 
 This, then, was something to look forward to. The 
 
DRAGGING THE CAR. 
 
 123 
 
 knowledge that soon after the disgusting ceremony was 
 performed we should say farewell to the village and 
 enter on a new and more stirring life in Coimbatore, 
 enabled me to anticipate the festival with more com- 
 posure. Ah, little did I then know what was in store 
 for me in the future ! 
 
 A bright, cloudless, balmy morning ushered in the 
 day of the car feast. 
 
 The car is a large wooden structure, in shape resembling 
 a cart, piled high and broad with a load of straw. It is 
 covered with carvings representing events in the lives of 
 the gods. Many of these carvings are simply grotesque, 
 but some, with the view of interesting the people and 
 giving additional spice to the sacred festivals, are grossly 
 obscene. The car rests on rough wooden wheels, and is 
 drawn with long thick ropes by the crowds of people 
 who flock to the feasts. 
 
 A canopy had been placed on the top of the car, and 
 underneath its shade sat the musicians and some of the 
 priests. 
 
 Dressed in gay clothing, the villagers came streaming 
 in from all the neighbouring villages and hamlets. Some 
 carried brass plates, in which a little light blazed and 
 flickered ; others brought offerings of flowers and fruits ; 
 while many came empty-handed, and seemed to care 
 chiefly for the pleasure of mixing in a crowd and 
 meeting their friends. Amid much confusion and 
 shouting, the long thick ropes were attached to the 
 car ; one or two of the priests and musicians mounted 
 to the top and sat under the gorgeous canopy, from 
 whence they lowered a basket, into which the people 
 
124 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 dropped their gifts. When the basket was full it was 
 raised to the top of the car, and lowered again for more. 
 Many of the people were idling about, and gazing at 
 the futile efforts of those who were trying to drag the 
 car. 
 
 ‘Come along; take hold of the ropes; pull the car!’ 
 shouted the schoolmaster. 
 
 Thus urged, a number went to lend a hand at the 
 ropes, but many moved away and simply looked on. 
 Runga Rao, and some of the other Brahmins, pushed and 
 scolded and coaxed. With a great confused shout the 
 people at the ropes pulled, the car shook, the wheels 
 creaked, and the clumsy structure moved an inch or two, 
 and then stopped. 
 
 ‘ They won’t get the car round the temple to-day 
 unless they pull more vigorously, or unless more people 
 come to the festival,’ said my father, who was looking 
 on, to the postmaster of the village, a vain, conceited 
 young fellow, who, because he knew English and wore 
 a jacket, thought himself superior to every one. 
 
 ‘You don’t believe in these things, perhaps?’ said my 
 father. 
 
 ‘ They are needed by the village rabble, who, without 
 these ceremonies and festivals, would forget the gods 
 altogether, but an educated man does not require any- 
 thing of this kifid.’ 
 
 ‘ I partly agree with you,’ said my father ; ‘ and yet 
 it was on account of this festival that I delayed 
 my departure for Coimbatore. My son is fulfilling a 
 vow to-day. See, there he is,’ said he, pointing with 
 his staff to the place where Meenatchy and I, with 
 
THE VOW FULFILLED. 
 
 125 
 
 four others, were laboriously rolling full length on the 
 ground. 
 
 ‘ I heard of your vow,’ said the postmaster. ‘ Don’t 
 you think it was the medicine you gave your son, and 
 not the vow, that secured his recovery ? ’ 
 
 ‘ It may be so, but who knows? The vow was made, 
 and the god might be angry if it were not fulfilled.’ 
 
 ‘ It is right to follow the custom. After all, that is the 
 safest rule,’ said the postmaster. 
 
 Dirty, giddy, stupefied, I finished the prescribed 
 distance, and staggered home to wipe the filth from 
 
126 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 my face. During the rest of the day, however, until meal- 
 time, I went about with my soiled clothes. 
 
 Several ineffectual efforts were made to drag the car. 
 A number of people, instead of helping, climbed up a 
 tree, and sat on a long branch watching the crowd 
 below. A boy who was perched on a higher branch 
 made the others laugh by shouting a song in good- 
 humoured ridicule of the god Ganesa, who is usually 
 represented as a fat man, with an elephant’s head, seated 
 on a rat. He is sometimes called the belly god. The 
 boy sang with a shrill voice : — 
 
 ‘ Poor Gampate bewails his rat. 
 
 Abstracted by felonious cat. 
 
 “My legs are short; how shall I trudge? 
 
 And how can this big belly budge ? ” ’ 
 
 The people laughed and shouted, and suddenly the 
 branch, which was old and rotten, broke with a crash, 
 and threw the people on the top of one another to the 
 ground. They uttered terrible shrieks and cries ; some 
 lay on the ground moaning, and others rose and felt 
 themselves all over, to see if any bones were broken. 
 Several were injured severely, and two were killed. 
 
 This accident at once put an end to the festival. The 
 car was deserted, and the crowd began to disperse to 
 their villages. Many said that the god had taken 
 revenge on them because they did not drag the car 
 and because they laughed when the boy sang the song. 
 They did not seem to consider that the boy himself 
 escaped entirely uninjured, 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 I JOIN THE COIMBATORE MISSION SCHOOL. 
 
 T WAS fourteen years old when we left Poothoor 
 ^ to go and live in the town of Coimbatore. We 
 stayed for a few weeks in the house of my aunt, until 
 my father’s young wife, who had now reached maturity, 
 should be brought home to live with him and keep 
 house for us. The house which we finally got was not 
 so large and comfortable as the one we had occupied 
 in Poothoor, my father grudging the rents that were 
 demanded for the best houses. It was in the same 
 street in which my aunt lived, and was quite large and 
 comfortable enough for our purposes. The street is 
 broad, and is ornamented with palm trees, planted close 
 to the low-tiled verandahs. One or two of the palms are 
 growing through the roofs of the houses. 
 
 Rungan and Chinnaswamey, my two chief com- 
 panions and friends, having no relatives in Coimbatore 
 with whom they could live, were staying at a place 
 called a hostel, where, for a few rupees a month, they got 
 food and a share of a long, low, dirty, common room. 
 
 ‘ Father,’ said I one morning, ‘ Rungan has promised 
 to come round this way to-morrow morning and take 
 
 127 
 
2 8 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 me to school. You need not come with me. I am old 
 enough to introduce myself.’ 
 
 ‘ Very well,’ said my father. ‘ I should like to pay 
 my respects to the missionary gentleman and to the 
 head-master, but I can do that some other time.’ 
 
 Rungan came a few minutes before' seven, and shouted 
 in at the door, ‘Are you ready?’ I was just finishing 
 a little cold rice, so, hastily washing my mouth and 
 hands, I thrust my arms into my new white jacket, tied 
 on my best turban, and went out. 
 
 ‘ We are late, I fear,’ said Rungan, ‘ and the head- 
 master always canes those who come after prayers.’ 
 
 We ran quickly, and soon overtook a group of boys 
 with slates and books in their hands and under their 
 arms, dressed, some in white, others in print jackets, 
 some with a coloured handkerchief tied round their 
 head, and* others with white peaked caps. One boy 
 had evidently been newly married, as he wore a splendid 
 scarlet satin jacket, and a gorgeous gold-bordered 
 yellow turban. 
 
 ‘ Has the bell not rung yet ? ’ said Rungan to Chin- 
 naswamey. 
 
 ‘ No ; we are in plenty of time. Rama Rao, the head- 
 master, is behind us. I saw him in front of his house 
 as we passed.’ 
 
 One or two of the teachers. Brahmin youths, with 
 long white coats and white turbans, and a number of 
 the schoolboys, were standing in the school doorway 
 and in the street, waiting for the head-master. 
 
 The school is in the centre of the town, at one end 
 of the Brahmins’ quarters. 
 
THE SCHOOL. 
 
 1 29 
 
 When the head-master came bustling up, we all 
 crowded into the school, so different in every respect 
 from Runga Rao’s miserable shed in Poothoor. 
 
 The two large halls, which, divided by an arch, form 
 the school, were clean ; the Venetian windows were 
 painted green, and the brick floor was covered with 
 a smooth, hard coating of tar ; the benches were 
 arranged in a circle round each teacher’s desk and 
 blackboard. 
 
 A little bell was rung ; we were all silent ; one of 
 the teachers bowed his head, and with shut eyes offered 
 prayer. Some of the boys, and two of the masters, 
 who were Christians, shut their eyes and bowed their 
 heads also ; but the rest of us, the Hindus and Moham- 
 medans, stood with heads erect and eyes wide open. 
 
 The prayer over, the boys quickly dispersed to their 
 classes, and all the small boys went away to a separate 
 building on the other side of the street. 
 
 I, with two other boys, went to the head-master’s desk, 
 and stood waiting to be enrolled. 
 
 A string of boys, with rueful faces, came to receive 
 punishment for being late. 
 
 Just then Mr. Knox entered, and the whole school 
 rose and stood, till, with a wave of the hand, he motioned 
 them to sit. 
 
 ‘What are all these boys wanting?’ he asked the 
 head-master. 
 
 ‘ They are waiting to be punished for coming late.’ 
 
 ‘ Do you cane as many as this every morning ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Yes, sir ; the punishment seems to have no effect.’ 
 
 ‘ Then why don’t you try something else ? Make 
 
 I 
 
T 30 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 every boy that comes late pay a farthing for each 
 offence. I see that some, too, come without a head 
 cloth. That is very disrespectful, is it not?’ 
 
 ‘ Yes, sir. It is not proper to sit bare-headed in 
 class.’ 
 
 ‘Fine them also. It is the parents who ought to 
 look to these matters, and the only way to make them 
 do so is to touch their pockets.’ 
 
 ‘ It will look very mercenary,’ said the head-master, 
 ‘to fine the boys; and I don’t think it will do any 
 good.’ 
 
 ‘ I don’t consider it at all mercenary,’ replied the 
 missionary. ‘ I don’t want fines, but proper behaviour. 
 Give the boys fair warning, and try this plan for three 
 months; if it fails, you can return to the cane. I assure 
 you, you won’t get many fines.’ 
 
 Mr. Knox’s prophecy proved true. From that day 
 no boy was to be seen without a head-cloth, and it was 
 very seldom that any one came late. 
 
 ‘What is this boy waiting for?’ said Mr. Knox, turn- 
 ing to me. 
 
 ‘ I wish to be admitted into the school,’ I said, with a 
 good deal of timidity. It was the first time I had ever 
 spoken to a European gentleman. 
 
 ‘You are a big boy; what school have you been 
 attending ? ’ 
 
 I told him. 
 
 ‘ Ah ! a village school. Rama Rao, you had better 
 examine him, and see what class he is fit for. I fear his 
 attainments won’t be much.’ 
 
 After my examination, during which I could see a 
 
THE FORGIVENESS OF SINS. 131 
 
 good. deal of dissatisfaction and half-concealed contempt 
 on Rama Rao’s face, he placed me in a class where the 
 boys were all smaller than I. The teacher, a fat, grea.sy- 
 looking Brahmin youth, was standing on one side, and 
 the class was receiving a religious lesson from — no less 
 a person than the young man whose life had been 
 attempted in our village, and whom Rungan and I had 
 helped to save. The boys in the class were mostly 
 keen, intelligent, vivacious Brahmins. They were sitting 
 side by side with boys of lower castes ; one or two, as 
 I afterwards learned, were even the children of washer- 
 men and of pariahs. The washermen’s sons were the 
 dirtiest boys in the class. 
 
 Presently Mr. Knox came to our class, and after 
 asking the teacher what the lesson was he said to us — 
 
 ‘ You are getting a catechism lesson. What is the 
 question ? ’ 
 
 ‘ What must we do to obtain the forgiveness of our 
 sins ? ’ said a smart Brahmin boy at the top of the 
 class. 
 
 ‘ I wish you to tell me, — not the answer in the cate- 
 chism, but your own opinion on this matter. What do 
 you think we must do to obtain the forgiveness of 
 our sins ? ’ 
 
 The head boy hesitated a moment, and then replied, 
 ‘ We must repent’ 
 
 This answer was new and strange to me. It was not 
 what my father, or my former teacher, Runga Rao, would 
 have said. They would have spoken of temple services 
 and penances, of bestowing gifts on the Brahmins, of 
 pilgrimages and bathing in sacred rivers. 
 
32 EVERY-DAV LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 ‘ What you say is true,’ said the missionary. ‘We must 
 repent ; but is that all that is necessary ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Yes ; if we repent of our sins, God will forgive us.’ 
 
 ‘ What is your opinion, and yours, and yours ? ’ he 
 asked, going down the class. 
 
 All said that repentance was alone necessary. 
 
 ‘ Suppose,’ said the missionary, ‘ that some one had 
 killed your father ; he would be seized, put in prison, 
 and by-and-by be brought before the judge and con- 
 demned to die. While lying in prison waiting for 
 death, perhaps he would repent, be very sorry for 
 what he had done, and resolve never to do it again. If 
 you were sure that his repentance was sincere, would 
 you beg the judge to pardon him?’ 
 
 ‘ No,’ said the boys. ‘ If he had killed our father he 
 must die.’ 
 
 ‘ But then he has repented. It repentance is sufficient 
 to remove sin, why should not that murderer be for- 
 given ? ’ 
 
 We were all perfectly firm. A concrete example like 
 this was too much for us. No one would admit that the 
 murderer should be pardoned. 
 
 Mr. Knox smiled quietly, and said no more. He 
 evidently thought it best to leave us to draw our own 
 conclusions. 
 
 After the lesson was over, he talked to the Scripture 
 master in a low tone about his work. As I was at the 
 end of the bench, I overheard most of their conver- 
 sation. 
 
 ‘ Soondram Pillay,’ said he, ‘ I hope the boys don’t 
 give you much trouble now.’ 
 
now TO TEACH. 
 
 133 
 
 ‘ Sometimes they are impertinent, sir ; but I did not 
 think it necessary to bring it to your notice.’ 
 
 ‘ In what way are they impertinent? ’ 
 
 ‘ Please excuse me. I hope that you will not punish 
 them. They behave much better now.’ 
 
 ‘ Very well, I will not speak to them about it. What 
 do they do?’ 
 
 ‘ Sometimes a boy will tell me that Christianity is 
 not true, or he will speak about “ belly Christians,” and 
 compare them with the heathen ; or a boy will make 
 remarks about some of the Bible stories. Once when I 
 was teaching the commandments, I asked a boy, “ What 
 is the second commandment?” He answered, “Thou 
 shalt worship idols.” I said, “ That is not the answer. 
 Repeat it correctly.” “ Yes, sir, that is what you told us, 
 worship idols.” “ Sit down,” I said. Then I asked another 
 boy. He answered in the same way. I sent them to the 
 head-master, who rebuked them, and came and gave 
 some advice to the class.’ 
 
 ‘ I can easily understand the unwillingness of the boys 
 to repeat a commandment that so flatly condemns their 
 own convictions and practice,’ said Mr. Knox. ‘ In a 
 case like that, you should be content with simply 
 teaching the lesson, without asking questions that will 
 give the boys pain to answer. Look upon your class as 
 a preacher does on his congregation. Let your whole 
 manner, and all your illustrations and arguments, be 
 such as to commend the subject to the boys, to awaken 
 their interest, and in as pleasant a way as possible 
 produce conviction. Teach, if possible, nothing at all 
 that you cannot show to be reasonable. Many reject 
 
134 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 much truth that would be infinitely useful to them, 
 because it is taught along with doctrines which they 
 cannot endure. Christ at first withheld many things from 
 His disciples because they were not able to bear them.’ 
 
 ‘ Must I not make the boys commit the catechism by 
 heart ? ’ 
 
 This was a catechism compiled by the missionary 
 with a system of ethics and theology adapted to 
 Hindus. 
 
 ‘ Certainly not,’ replied Mr. Knox. ‘ Let the meaning 
 be impressed on their minds. The more trouble they 
 take to learn the words, the less attention will they give 
 to the meaning, and the greater will be their disgust 
 with the whole thing afterwards. If you teach properly, 
 and gain their attention, their minds cannot fail to be 
 influenced. You wish to change their convictions, and 
 not to give them merely a form of sound words.’ 
 
 Almost the whole work of the school was done in 
 English. The Tamil alphabet and the English alphabet 
 were taught together in the elementary class. The 
 boys were told ‘Rise up,’ ‘Sit down,’ ‘Take your 
 slates,’ etc., in English, from the first day they entered 
 the school. And children, as soon as they learned a 
 word or two, would practise them most diligently, and 
 would shout ‘ Good morning, sir,’ most confidently to 
 the missionary whenever they met him on the street. 
 
 How different everything was from the village school 
 in which I had been wasting so much of my time ! 
 
 A native inspector visited the school two or three 
 times in the course of the year, and a grand and search- 
 ing annual examination was held by the European 
 
JUDICIAL INVESTIGA TION. 1 3 5 
 
 inspector himself. We had to work with great diligence 
 to master the portions of study prescribed by Govern- 
 ment The annual Government grant was in proportion 
 to the salary and qualifications of the teachers, but was 
 liable to be withdrawn or reduced if the examinations 
 should be unsatisfactory. 
 
 Mr. Knox was a strict disciplinarian, and sought by 
 every means in his power to raise and purify the moral 
 tone of the school. Though strict, he was singularly 
 just and reasonable; he was always ready to listen 
 candidly to anything that might be urged in extenuation 
 of a fault, or against his own opinion, and he never 
 punished capriciously ; yet he never uttered a threat 
 without carrying it out ; so that, although we feared 
 him, we loved and trusted him too. 
 
 One day the theft of some school books was traced 
 to a lazy, sulky Christian boy in the highest class. The 
 masters wished to settle the matter without telling the 
 missionary, but while they were in the midst of the 
 investigation he entered. 
 
 ‘ What is the matter ? ’ he asked. 
 
 ‘ For some time back,’ said the head-master, ‘ some of 
 the boys have been losing their books, and we have 
 found out at last that this boy, Shaedrack, has been 
 stealing them. We are trying to make him confess.’ 
 
 ‘Are you sure that it is he who took them?’ 
 
 ‘ There is no doubt about it whatever. We can easily 
 prove it.’ 
 
 After listening to the evidence which the head-master 
 stated to him, Mr. Knox’s lips pressed close together, 
 and his face became terribly stern as he looked at the 
 
136 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 Christian boy, who stood trembling, with his eyes on the 
 ground. 
 
 ‘ Did you steal the books ? ’ 
 
 ‘No.’ 
 
 ‘ If you are guilty you had better confess ; for if you 
 don’t, I will at once call a policeman, and make a charge 
 against you. Your crime is sure to be proved, and then 
 your punishment will be very severe. Acknowledge 
 your fault, and you will not suffer so much.’ 
 
 After a little hesitation, the boy, in a low tone, uttered 
 one word. 
 
 ‘ What does he say ? ’ asked the missionary. 
 
 ‘ He says that he confesses,’ replied the head-master. 
 
 ‘ Call all the boys.’ 
 
 Gradually all the boys, with inquisitive, unsym- 
 pathetic looks, gathered round the culprit and his 
 examiners. 
 
 ‘You have been guilty of two faults,’ said the mis- 
 sionary; ‘first of stealing, then of lying. You are a 
 Christian, and have brought disgrace on your religion 
 before the whole school. Give him,’ said he, turning to 
 the head-master, ‘ twelve cuts on the hand, and dismiss 
 him from the school.’ 
 
 After the whipping was inflicted, and the boy sent 
 away, I heard the head-master say to Mr. Knox — 
 
 ‘ I think, sir, the punishment was too severe.’ 
 
 ‘ Why ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Because many are guilty of the same faults.’ 
 
 ‘ Don’t you punish them ? ’ 
 
 ‘ We may give them a caning for stealing, but not for 
 telling lies.’ 
 
VICARIOUS SUFFERING. 
 
 137 
 
 ‘ Why not ? ’ 
 
 ‘ We could not do that, because we all, masters as 
 well as scholars, tell lies.’ 
 
 At another time it was discovered that the best books 
 in the school library had been taken away. 
 
 ‘ The whole school,’ said Mr. Knox, ‘must suffer. The 
 books have no doubt been stolen by some schoolboy. If 
 the others chose, they could easily prevent or discover 
 such crimes. Every one must pay a fine to make up the 
 value of the books.’ 
 
 At this the boys looked at one another, and grumbles 
 were heard. 
 
 ‘ What are you saying ? ’ said the missionary, address- 
 ing a slim, vain youth, who was ever ready to give his 
 opinion, end who had muttered something. 
 
 ‘ We do not think it will be just to make the innocent 
 suffer for the guilty,’ said he. 
 
 ‘Your ideas of justice, and mine,’ replied Mr. Knox, 
 
 ‘ don’t exactly coincide. Which must I follow — your 
 sense of what is just, or you mine ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Of course we must follow yours,’ said the teacher. 
 
 ‘ The whole school is implicated,’ continued the mis- 
 sionary, ‘ because, unless the boys winked at the offence, 
 it would not have occurred. Many of the boys who did 
 not steal the books, no doubt thought those very lucky 
 who did. Is it not so ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes, sir; that is true,’ said the head-master. 
 
 ‘ It is only by being made to suffer,’ continued the 
 missionary, ‘ that a conviction that such acts are wrong 
 can be impressed on the minds of the boys. I believe 
 in vicarious suffering, and although I am innocent, I 
 
138 EVERY-DAV LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 shall willingly share the punishment by joining you in 
 paying the fine.’ 
 
 Although we resisted the influence of the religious 
 instruction that we received as much as we could, tried 
 not to listen, carried on a debate in our minds in defence 
 of Hinduism, hoped that strong arguments must surely 
 exist, although we could not discover them, still, a deep 
 impression was made on our minds. VVe were convinced 
 in spite of ourselves of a great deal that our teacher 
 taught us. 
 
 When I told my father about the Scripture lesson, he 
 told me that it could not do me any harm, if I always 
 remembered that He whom the Christians called God 
 or Christ was really Sivan ; that the difference between 
 Christianity and Hinduism was only a difference in 
 name. ‘ If they say anything against Hinduism, say 
 “Yes, yes”; but you need not believe.’ After that I 
 used to listen gladly whenever the teacher spoke about 
 God ; but I was displeased whenever he mentioned the 
 name of Christ, because I knew that Christ was a dis- 
 tinct person, and could not be regarded as identical with 
 any of the Hindu gods. 
 
 The teacher was very discreet and cautious. He made 
 as little reference to Christ as possible, and tried, by 
 illustrations and by stories of good men, to awaken 
 within us an admiration for goodness, and a sense of 
 our need of a Saviour. 
 
 When I made known to the teacher who I was, and 
 reminded him of the incident that occurred on the occa- 
 sion when I first met him, he smiled and seemed greatly 
 pleased. 
 
THE MISSION COMPOUND. 
 
 139 
 
 ‘ I have often thought about you,’ he said, ‘ and wished 
 to meet you again ; and although I did not recognise you, 
 — you remember it was in the middle of the night that I 
 first made your acquaintance, so that I did not get a 
 proper look at your face — I thought I remembered your 
 voice when I heard it in the class. Who are you living 
 with in Coimbatore ? ’ 
 
 ‘ My father has left Poothoor, and is living here now.’ 
 
 ‘ You mu.st come and see me in my house. I live in 
 the mission compound. I should like much to have a 
 talk with you.’ 
 
 I took an early opportunity of paying my respects to 
 my teacher in his own house. 
 
 The mission compound is a strip of land, about 
 a furlong in length, not far from the native town, 
 and near the houses of the Europeans. At one end 
 is the church, at the other a boarding-school for 
 girls, and midway between the house of the mis- 
 sionary. 
 
 The teacher’s house was very neat and clean. Some 
 books were arranged on a set of shelves, and some 
 pictures were nailed on the whitewashed walls. 
 
 ‘ Sit down,’ he said, offering me a chair. There was 
 only one chair in my father’s house, and in Poothoor we 
 had none at all. 
 
 We talked of many things, and at length our conver- 
 sation turned to religion. 
 
 ‘ I observe that you are very attentive in the class. 
 Do you read the Bible at home ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Sometimes I do, but ’ 
 
 ‘ You don’t believe much of it, I suppose.’ 
 
140 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 ‘ It contains good morals,’ I said ; ‘but I don’t like to 
 leave my own religion.’ 
 
 ‘ Do you worship the idols ? ’ 
 
 ‘ No, I don’t. I believe that God is a Spirit, and I 
 think of Him in my heart.’ 
 
 ‘ Do you pray to Him ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I have not learned any except the Sanscrit prayers 
 that the guru taught me, and I don’t understand their 
 meaning.’ 
 
 ‘ Has your father not taught you how to pray ? ’ 
 
 ‘ No. Once when I saw him bathing in the tank, and 
 muttering his devotions, I asked him what he said. He 
 told me that it would be a great sin for him to tell me, 
 and that if I were to overhear him uttering them I 
 should become a deaf serpent in the next birth.’ 
 
 The teacher laughed, and said, ‘ We Christians don’t 
 hide our prayers like that. We teach them to our wives 
 and children, and we don’t mutter senseless words, but 
 ask what we need from God.’ 
 
 ‘ We, too,’ I said, ‘ ask what we need. If we wish 
 education we ask the goddess of learning to bless our 
 studies.’ 
 
 ‘You don’t pray from the heart,’ said the teacher. 
 
 ‘ You pay a priest to teach you.’ 
 
 ‘ It is well to receive instruction from the learned,’ I 
 replied. 
 
 ‘ It is only to get money,’ said the teacher. ‘ The 
 priests refuse to teach poor low-caste people. They say 
 that low-caste people ought not to read or be taught the 
 Vedas. Is that right? But would you like to speak to 
 God?’ 
 
HEATHEN AND CHEISTIAN PEA YEES. 141 
 
 ‘ I should like to do so/ I said, ‘ but how can I speak to 
 Him?’ 
 
 ‘You can speak to Him by prayer. We Christians 
 daily speak to Him in this way. He kindly listens to 
 our prayers, and gives us what is right. Consider God 
 as your Father, and ask Him for whatever you need.’ 
 After some further talk with my kind teacher, I took 
 leave of him, and promised to come often to see him. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 MATRIMONIAL NEGOTIATIONS-LOVE AND MARRIAGE. 
 
 T T being usual for Hindus to marry, if possible, only 
 ^ among relatives, my father said to my aunt one 
 day — 
 
 ‘ My son is now thirteen years old. It is time that he 
 should be married, and I know no one more suitable for 
 him than your daughter.’ 
 
 ‘ There is no one,’ said my aunt, ‘ who has a better 
 right to give a wife to your son than I. Your son and 
 my daughter would make a good couple.’ 
 
 ‘ When your husband comes, speak to him about it,’ 
 said my father. 
 
 ‘Your brother-in-law asks our second child, Balam- 
 bal, in marriage for his son,’ said my aunt, to her hus- 
 band that evening. ‘ They will be like a god and a 
 goddess. What do you say ?’ 
 
 ‘ A capital match ! ’ said he, ironically. ‘ Give our 
 daughter to a motherless son ? Is she so old that she 
 must seek a husband ? She knows nothing about mar- 
 riage. She has not reached her tenth year. Were 
 Coopooswamey’s father suddenly to close his eye (in 
 death), Coopooswamey would be destitute. It is very 
 
 142 
 
BA LAMB AT S CONFESSION. 
 
 U3 
 
 likely that a stepmother will give her wealth to a step- . 
 son ! What, you stupid ! Hold your tongue ! Don’t 
 shove your daughter into an old well .We married one, 
 and see the miserable state she is in now.’ 
 
 My aunt stood patiently listening to this outburst. 
 Knowing his disposition, she felt that the only way to 
 avoid a quarrel was to let him talk, without contra- 
 diction. She did not allude to the subject again, but 
 induced my grandmother to talk to him. 
 
 One day about this time my grandmother said 
 jocularly to Balambal, ‘ Who are you going to marry ?’ 
 
 ‘ My cousin,’ said she, smiling. 
 
 Hearing this, two or three people who were on the 
 verandah with her laughed. I was in the upstair room, 
 and through the open window heard both the question 
 and the reply. 
 
 ‘Is it a girl like you that I am to marry ? ’ said I, 
 coming down, and speaking with boyish rudeness. 
 
 ‘ If that is what you say, why did you so earnestly 
 play at marriage with me the other day, and tie a shell 
 round my neck as a tali. * All my friends saw you do 
 it,’ she said. 
 
 My real feelings thus discovered, the warm blood 
 rushed to my face, and hanging down my head I 
 went away without a word. 
 
 My father did not speak to me about the marriage 
 that he was negotiating for me. It is not usual for 
 Hindu parents to consult their children on these matters, 
 or to allow a son the right of choice in the selection of 
 his bride, or a daughter the privilege of refusal. The 
 bride and bridegroom usually acquiesce in the decision 
 
144 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 of their parents. They, indeed, can hardly do other- 
 wise, because at the time of their marriage they are 
 often mere children ; and although in some cases old 
 enough to understand the meaning and importance of 
 marriage, and to form those opinions and attachments 
 that link young men and maidens to each other, they 
 have probably had no opportunity of seeing and speaking 
 to each other. For a young man to look at or speak 
 to a girl, with a view to winning her affection, would 
 be considered the height of impropriety. 
 
 Besides, a young man at the time of his marriage is 
 rarely in a position to maintain himself, and although 
 married his position in his father’s house is little changed, 
 his bride being received as a daughter, and sharing the 
 common life of the family. 
 
 My own marriage was in some respects different from 
 the ordinary type. Balambal and I had had frequent 
 opportunities of seeing each other. We had been allowed 
 to grow up together like brother and sister, and, boy 
 though I was, I had set my affections on her. I 
 early perceived that she was superior to any girl that 
 I had ever seen. It was not merely that her skin 
 was fairer and her features more regular, softer, and 
 more beautiful than those of other girls, but she was 
 so kind, so wise, so clever, we all admired her, and I 
 loved her. I vowed that none but Balambal should be 
 my wife. 
 
 Although my father told me nothing of what was going 
 on, I was in the confidence of my aunt. 
 
 In order to make the formal proposal to my uncle 
 that his daughter Balambal should be espoused to me 
 
MY FATHER WELCOMES THE GUESTS. 145 
 
 my father invited a number of the relatives of both 
 families to a feast. 
 
 Veeran was there, and the young postmaster from 
 Foothoor. They had come the night before, and were 
 both staying in our house. Veeran was dressed simply 
 as a cultivator with a white turban, a white cloth thrown 
 over his naked shoulders, and a similar cloth tied round 
 his loins. The postmaster had puffy cheeks and bad 
 teeth, that were black with the betel which he chewed. 
 He wore a white flannel jacket edged with black, and 
 his feet were protected by yellow shoes with pointed 
 upturned toes, and folded-down heels. 
 
 The first guest who came was an old man, with 
 well-marked massive features and a gruff voice. His 
 moustache and eyebrows were pure white. He had been 
 head clerk in the collector’s office, but was living retired 
 on a pension, and on the gains which, in various ways, 
 he had made when in office. He wore the long thin 
 flowing cotton cloth coat that all Government officials 
 affect, a small diamond earring twinkled in each ear, and 
 the little finger of his left hand was adorned by a large 
 ring glittering with a cluster of diamonds. 
 
 Slipping off his shoes on the outside of the threshold, 
 he came in bowing and salaaming, and with a smile on 
 his old rugged face. 
 
 ‘ Come in, come in,’ said my father, who had risen and 
 stepped forward to welcome him. ‘ I hope you are well, 
 your presence is an honour to my house. You bring 
 good luck, for you are the first that has come.’ 
 
 ‘Am I the first? If I bring as much good luck as I 
 wish you, your feast will be successful indeed.’ 
 
 K 
 
146 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA, 
 
 After the guests, to the number of thirty, had all 
 arrived, they laid aside their turbans and upper cloths 
 and jackets, and with no covering, save the cloth about 
 the loins, sat down, cross-legged, in a row on the mats 
 placed for them in the hall. 
 
 In front of each was a round plate made of fresh leaves 
 sewn together. 
 
 My aunt and my stepmother, assisted by two female 
 servants, waited on the guests, but did not take food 
 along with them. Men and women never eat together. 
 The women first serve the men and take their food by 
 themselves afterwards. 
 
 A large black earthenware pot of rice was brought in, 
 and a heap of the beautiful, nicely-cooked grain was 
 placed on each leaf plate. On the top of this a ladleful 
 of curry was poured, and a pot of a boiled grain called 
 dholl, and over all was poured some ghee, or clarified 
 butter. The curry consisted of mutton cut in small 
 pieces and stewed in ghee with a large number of spices. 
 
 In addition to the dholl and ghee a little chutney was 
 placed on the side of each plate. 
 
 All this while not a word had been spoken ; each one 
 watched silently and solemnly the serving out of the 
 food by the lithe, handsome, active women. At length, 
 when every one had been served, my uncle, looking 
 towards my father, asked permission to eat, to which my 
 father replied, ‘ Eat, eat.’ Each one then leaning over 
 his food, mixed a portion with his thumb and three 
 fingers, raised and thrust it dexterously into his mouth. 
 
 The meal proceeded in perfect silence, and not till the 
 close did any one drink water. 
 
REASON FOR EATING WITH FINGERS. 147 
 
 In drinking, no one allowed his brass drinking vessel 
 to touch his lips. Throwing their heads back, opening 
 their mouths wide, and raising their hand aloft, they 
 poured the water in a stream down their throats. 
 
 Those who do not understand our Hindu customs 
 may be apt to suppose that sitting on the floor, and 
 having our food served on leaf plates, and eating with 
 our fingers is a sign of barbarism. Far from this, it in 
 reality indicates refinement and delicate fastidiousness. 
 
 To a Hindu the saliva is impure, and everything it 
 touches is defiled. A plate, therefore, or a knife or fork or 
 spoon that has once touched the lips, could not be used 
 again. The very ground where food has been partaken 
 has to be purified after each meal, by having a little 
 liquid cow-dung sprinkled over it. 
 
 A Hindu never spits inside a house. He rises and 
 goes outside to do so. He never moistens a postage 
 stamp with his tongue, but keeps a pot of gum beside 
 him for the purpose. He cuts a fresh twig every morning, 
 chews it soft at the end, and cleans his teeth with it, and 
 then throws it away. 
 
 After every one had partaken to his heart’s content of 
 the savoury viands, a brass vessel containing sandal-wood 
 paste was handed round ; each one dipped his hand into 
 it and smeared it over his arms and breast. It imparted 
 a delightful feeling of coolness to the skin, and shed a 
 pleasant fragrance through the hall. Flowers were given 
 to each to fasten in his hair, and then they all rose and 
 went outside to wash the right hand, which they had 
 taken their food with. Then they gathered in a corner 
 of the hall to chew betel and talk. 
 
48 EVERY-DAY LIRE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 ‘ Come along, old man,’ said Veeran to one who was 
 slower in his movements than the others, and therefore 
 the last to seat himself. 
 
 ‘ Old man ! is that what you call me? Ah well! rny 
 hair is getting white; I am not so young as I once was,’ 
 said the old man, good-humouredly. 
 
 ‘Without the wisdom of the old,’ said the postmaster, 
 ‘what can wc do? Without the head, the tail won’t wag. 
 Have some betel nut.’ 
 
 ‘ Thanks, I have no teeth,’ said the old man. 
 
 ‘ Well, here are some flowers,’ said Veeran. 
 
 ‘ Ah, you joke me; I have no hair to put flowers in,’ said 
 the other, touching the meagre tuft forming his kudami. 
 
 ‘ What are you going to do then — nothing?’ 
 
 ‘ Although I can’t chew betel, I can talk. How is 
 your son?’ said he, turning to a man not quite so old 
 as himself, who was sitting next him. ‘ I hear he has 
 passed his examination at the university.’ 
 
 ‘Yes,’ replied the other. ‘ By the gods’ favour, he has 
 been so far successful. He has been at home for more 
 than a month now.’ 
 
 ‘Has he got any employment? ’ 
 
 ‘No, he is quiet at home. He says that he is entitled 
 to a post from Government, but, without favour, how can 
 he get that ? He is idle and discontented. He seems 
 far from happy.’ 
 
 ‘ The world,’ said the other, sententiously, ‘is divided 
 between the busy and the idle. The busy fail to enjoy 
 life from excess of drudgery, anxiety, and worry; the 
 idle still more from satiety and ennui. I fear that 
 happiness is very rare.’ 
 
A BAB OMEN. 
 
 T49 
 
 ‘ What is that you are saying about happiness ? ’ said 
 Veeran. ‘ My idea of happiness is plenty to eat, nothing 
 to do, and a wife that does not bother you with her 
 tongue.’ 
 
 ‘You know what pleasure is,’ said Boyan. ‘I heard 
 that your wife once gave you a love philtre, and that 
 you are now as fond of each other as two doves.’ 
 
 There was a laugh at this, and all eyes were turned 
 on Veeran, who looked very stupid, and did not speak 
 again for a while. 
 
 At length my father cleared his throat. ‘ My son,’ 
 said he, ‘ is now thirteen years old, and it is high time he 
 should be married. If, by the favour of the god, we can get 
 a girl for him among our relatives, it will be well. I think 
 if my brother-in-law would agree to give his daughter, 
 a better match could not be made.’ 
 
 Just then a puff of wind blew out the light, and left 
 them in darkness. 
 
 ‘ We need not talk any more of this matter,’ cried my 
 uncle. ‘ If I give my daughter, as the light has gone 
 out, so will it be with her. It is not a good omen.’ He 
 rose as he said this, and went hastily away. 
 
 At the door a married woman, bearing a pot of water, 
 met him, and a dog that was lying near flapped its ears. 
 He went home in perplexity. 
 
 These omens were good — the woman and the dog ; 
 nothing could be better ; and yet how could he renew 
 a matter like this, that had once been broken off? 
 
 ‘ But if I reject the good omens it will be like pushing 
 luck away with my foot,’ thought he, as he turned the 
 matter over in his mind. 
 
150 EVERY-DAY LI EE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 About this time I was asked to accompany my aunt 
 and Balambal to Peroor, to see the god floated on the 
 tank. The ceremony was to take place at night, so we 
 set off in the evening in a bullock cart. Many people 
 were flocking to the same place, some, like ourselves, in 
 carts, but most on foot. 
 
 The scene at Peroor was an animated one. The 
 temple and the tank were lighted up, and many of the 
 people carried torches and firebrands. The god was 
 brought out, carried in procession round the temple, and 
 then placed on a raft on the tank. 
 
 By keeping close to the idol, we were fortunate 
 enough to obtain a place on the raft. 
 
 It was floated thrice round the shrine in the middle of 
 the tank; then it was lifted out, placed in the shrine, and 
 the lighted camphor, cocoanuts, and other fruits and 
 money that we gave to the priest, were spread out before it. 
 
 The god was then placed again on the raft, and we 
 were slowly pushed towards the bank. Before we 
 reached the steps the raft dipped to one side, and we 
 were all thrown into the water ; but as we were near 
 the steps, where the water was not very deep, we all 
 managed to scramble out. 
 
 The people pushed and jostled one another to get a 
 little of the fruit and other things that had been 
 presented to the idol, and which the priests were 
 scattering among the people. 
 
 Some of the women, in the hope of obtaining 
 offspring, bathed in the tank, and then in their wet 
 garments rolled on the ground round the temple — a 
 most painful sight ! 
 
A DEVIL DRIVER. 
 
 151 
 
 Instead of returning to Coimbatore, we went to pass 
 the remainder of the night in the house of a friend. 
 
 While going thither, we saw a man covered with 
 ashes sitting by the wayside, having in front of him 
 three women with dishevelled hair, whose heads were 
 constantly moving from side to side. 
 
 ‘ What is that man doing ? ’ I asked my aunt. 
 
 ‘ He is a devil driver,’ she replied ; ‘ and these poor 
 women are possessed by evil spirits.’ 
 
 Suddenly a woman bounded forwards, and sat down 
 before him. He gave her a good lashing with the cane, 
 and kicked her well. The woman roared, and turned 
 her head from side to side. Other women also sprang 
 forward and were beaten in the same way, and as they 
 were beaten they cried, ‘ I am going ! I am going ! ’ 
 
 ‘ That,’ said my aunt, ‘ is the evil spirit within them 
 who is shouting.’ 
 
 A little farther on we met a man with his face 
 blackened with charcoal. His whole appearance was 
 frightful, and he was dancing, prancing, and moving 
 his arms and head wildly about. He danced in this 
 excited manner up to my aunt, who put some money 
 into my hand to give to him. I shrank away from him, 
 and threw the money to him on the ground. He was 
 supposed to be possessed by the god. 
 
 When we reached the house where we were to stay, 
 Balambal and I went inside, but my aunt, being cere- 
 monially unclean, had to remain without, and spend the 
 night in a small shed. 
 
 ‘ Serve rice to these two young people as soon as 
 you can,’ said my aunt to one of the female servants. 
 
52 EVERY-DAY LI EE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 ‘ It is late — long past the time when they usually take 
 their food. They ought to have been asleep long 
 ago.’ 
 
 ‘ Rice will be put for them in a minute or two,’ said 
 the servant. ‘ Go and wash your hands,’ said she to us. 
 
 ‘ Pour some water on your feet and ankles. Here is a 
 brass vessel. Come quickly.’ 
 
 She then went and spread a leaf for me, and put two 
 handfuls of rice and a ladleful of curry on it. The 
 curry was so hot with spices that I could not eat it. 
 
 ‘ Why don’t you take your rice ? Is there anything 
 the matter ? ’ asked the servant. 
 
 ‘ It is too hot. Give me a little more ghee.’ 
 
 She then poured so much ghee on my leaf that all the 
 curry and the rice were soaked with it. 
 
 ‘What is wrong now?’ she exclaimed, seeing me 
 playing with my food rather than eating it. 
 
 ‘ The ghee is getting hard,’ I said. ‘ Please pour a 
 little of the soup over it.’ 
 
 She added so much soup that it was out of all 
 proportion to the quantity of rice ; and when I sat 
 wondering how I was to consume so much soup, it 
 occurred to me that I might add some more rice to it, 
 and when I did so the rice on my leaf amounted to as 
 much as would be sufficient for two men. 
 
 ‘ What am I to do with all this rice ? ’ exclaimed I in 
 despair. 
 
 ‘ Eat as much as you can, and leave the rest,’ said the 
 servant. 
 
 ‘ But won’t it be wrong to waste so much food ? ’ 
 I asked. 
 
A STORY. 
 
 153 
 
 ‘ No/ she replied. ‘ It can be thrown to the dog. To 
 feed the dog is a work of merit.’ 
 
 After our supper was over, she took Balambal and me 
 to a room where there was no one but a little girl 
 sleeping in a corner. Spreading a grass mat on one 
 side for me, and one on the other side for Balambal, 
 she bade us lie down and go to sleep. All the other 
 rooms in the house were occupied, and the people 
 were all asleep. 
 
 ‘ I am not sleepy,’ said I to the servant. ' Is there no 
 story you can tell us ? ’ 
 
 ‘ What story have I got to tell ? It is late. I wish to 
 go and lie down.’ 
 
 ‘ Tell us only one short story,’ said I, urging her. 
 
 ‘ Very well then, listen. Once upon a time, there 
 was a city called Ahagapany, governed by King 
 Ahasuran, who had one Patti for his prime minister. 
 This king governed the city with so much firmness, 
 justice, and kindness that even the tiger and the sheep 
 became so friendly that they would drink water together 
 from the same spring. 
 
 ‘ One day, reflecting on his sad condition in having 
 no son to succeed him on the throne, he fell into 
 the greatest melancholy, and thought that it would 
 be better to die than live in the world as a childless 
 man. 
 
 ‘ What is the use of my telling a story to you when 
 you neither nod your head nor give a sound to encourage 
 me as I go along ? ’ said the servant. The truth is, I had 
 been thinking what I would say to Balambal after the 
 story was finished and the servant gone away. 
 
54 EVERY-DAY LI EE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 ‘ Go on,’ said Balambal. ‘ I will make the “ Hu ” sound 
 to show that we are listening.’ 
 
 ‘ No,’ said I, ‘ that is my part.’ 
 
 ‘ If you are going to quarrel,’ said the servant, ‘I won’t 
 tell you any more.’ 
 
 ‘ We are not going to quarrel,’ I rej^lied. ‘Go on with 
 the story.’ 
 
 ‘ Tell me where I left off, then.’ 
 
 As I had not been listening very attentively, I looked 
 confused, and could not tell her. 
 
 Balambal at once gave the last word, and I, much 
 ashamed, sat mute. 
 
 The serv^ant went on again thus : 
 
 ‘ The king lived for many years in this unhappy mood. 
 He had sixty-four wives, of whom the first was his legal 
 and proper wife. Each of the sixty-three asked him to 
 tell them the cause of his melancholy. He refused to 
 tell any of them, but when his lawful wife asked him he 
 promised to tell her next day. 
 
 ‘ When, with great sorrow, he opened his mind to her, 
 she became very sad, and said — 
 
 It must be on account of some sin committed in a 
 former birth. What can we do but go to the great god 
 Sivan, and tell him our grief ? Perhaps he will take pity 
 
 r 
 
 on us.” 
 
 ‘ The king thanked his wife for her good advice, and 
 immediately set about making preparations. He invited 
 to his palace Brahmins and men learned in the Vedas ; 
 feasted them, sang sacred songs, prayed to all the gods 
 without exception, fasted, and went on pilgrimage to the 
 Ganges. 
 
THE STORY CONTINUED. 
 
 155 
 
 ‘ At length, one night, at twelve o’clock, Sivan, with 
 his wife, Parvathi, seated side by side on a bullock, 
 appeared to him and to his wife, and informed them 
 
 THE GOD SIVAN. 
 
 that in a former birth they had both been guilty of 
 infanticide. 
 
 ‘ When the king and queen heard this, they fell at the 
 
156 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 feet of the god and goddess, and asked forgiveness for 
 their sin. Sivan immediately granted their request, and 
 vanished from their sight 
 
 ‘ Soon their hearts were gladdened by the birth of a 
 son. 
 
 ‘ They brought up the child with great tenderness, 
 indulging him in every way, and educating him in all 
 the knowledge and accomplishments befitting a king. 
 
 ‘ When he had reached a marriageable age, his father 
 proposed to the queen that a wife should be sought for 
 him. The queen remarking that there was nothing 
 more important, and few things more difficult to find 
 than a good wife for one’s son, agreed to her husband’s 
 proposal. 
 
 ‘ The young prince’s portrait was painted by a skilful 
 artist, and sent by ambassadors to the court of every 
 king in the world. 
 
 ‘ In a country four thousand miles away there lived a 
 princess more beautiful than a goddess, and she was 
 finally selected as a bride for the prince.. 
 
 ‘ Their marriage was celebrated with great pomp and 
 splendour, and was the occasion of much joy throughout 
 the whole country. After they were crowned, they 
 attained to greater glory than their parents, and lived as 
 harmoniously as milk and water. 
 
 ‘ It is in this way,’ said the servant, ‘ that parents 
 should bring up their children, and that husbands and 
 wives should love each other.’ 
 
 Seeing that my eyes were shut, and that I seemed to 
 be asleep, the servant rose, and making salaam to 
 Balambal, slipped away to get her rice. 
 
JFE DECLARE OUR LOVE. 
 
 157 
 
 ‘ Balambal/ said I, in a whisper. 
 
 ‘What is it?’ she asked, shyly. 
 
 ‘ Are you going to sleep ? ’ 
 
 ‘No, I can’t sleep so long as you are here.’ 
 
 ‘ There is no where else for me to go to.’ 
 
 ‘ Can’t you go and lie down on the verandah outside ?’ 
 ‘Yes, I will do that ; but I want to speak to you first. 
 You heard that story. What do you think of it?’ 
 
 ‘ That story is suitable for you and me,’ she replied, 
 laughing. 
 
 I also laughed. ‘ I have been wishing for a long time 
 to have some talk with you.’ 
 
 ‘ How many words you have already spoken ! You 
 don’t seem satisfied with speaking a few. Talk, then ; 
 I will listen.’ 
 
 ‘ I tried many times to speak with you, and could not 
 succeed. Whenever you saw me, you ran away.’ 
 
 ‘ It was not because I did not like to speak with you 
 that I ran away, but because of what others would say. 
 I, also, was very anxious to meet you and talk as we 
 used to do, but, as the proverb says, we must walk as 
 the village walks.’ 
 
 ‘ Are you glad that my father has asked you for my 
 wife ? ’ I asked. 
 
 ‘ I resolved that I would marry no one but you,’ she 
 replied. 
 
 ‘You are only a little girl,’ said I, pleased and 
 astonished ; ‘ only eleven years of age. Who taught 
 you to make this resolution ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Does one need to be taught this ? Your good looks 
 and your affection were my instructors — nothing else ! ’ 
 
158 EVEJ^Y-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 ‘ The eye can sec good looks, but how did you know 
 about my love ? ’ I asked. 
 
 ‘ What ? ’ said she. ‘ I read about love in a book. Love 
 is shown by actions ; actions are seen by the eyes.’ 
 
 ‘ You said that you would like to marry me because I 
 love you. Do you love me, too ? ’ 
 
 ‘ When I saw that you loved me, I thought about it, 
 and I was grateful to you. Does not that prove that I 
 love you ? ’ 
 
 Drowned in a sea of love and joy, I exclaimed, ‘You 
 are very wise and clever ! To tell your good qualities, 
 five tongues would not be sufficient ! ’ I then went 
 away, and lay down on the verandah outside, where I 
 was soon fast asleep. 
 
 Those were bright and happy days to me. The 
 knowledge of Balambal’s love affected me like strong 
 wine. My heart exulted. I walked with an elastic, 
 springing step. I sought lonely places to think of her. 
 She occupied all my thoughts. My companions noticed 
 a change in me, although I did not allow them to sus- 
 pect the reason. My love for Balambal gave me a 
 feeling of goodwill to every one in the world. My heart 
 throbbed with generous emotions. Everything she did 
 seemed to me perfect. The tones of her voice were 
 music. Her movements in walking were as graceful 
 as a dance. 
 
 I dared not be seen speaking to her, but I could see 
 from the movement of her head, and sometimes by the 
 shyest glance of her bright eye, that I was not forgotten. 
 I used to watch her as she went to the well with the 
 other women. 
 
LOVE. 
 
 ^59 
 
 While I was living in this happy ecstacy, I learned that 
 my father had written to Tanjore for another wife for 
 me. After the way my uncle had broken off the nego- 
 tiations for Balambal, my father thought that there was 
 no use speaking to him again. 
 
 I ran in great distress to my aunt 
 ‘ I did not tell my father to get a wife for me. Why 
 should he be in such a hurry?’ I said. 
 
 ‘ Never mind,’ she replied ; ‘ I will speak to your 
 father about it It will all come right yet’ 
 
 ‘ What does my father say ?’ I asked my aunt, a day 
 or two after, when I met her returning from my father’s 
 house. 
 
 ‘ It is all right,’ she replied. ‘ He will break off the 
 arrangements with the people in Tanjore. I told him 
 that you were not happy, that you were eating no food, 
 and that you could not sleep at night When he asked 
 the cause, I told him that you did not wish to marry a 
 stranger. I advised him to make the excuse to the people 
 in Tanjore that the horoscope of their daughter, which 
 they had sent, does not suit your horoscope. Tell a 
 thousand lies, I said, and promote a marriage. He 
 agrees to do this, so that all will be right.’ 
 
 In three weeks after this everything was arranged 
 for my marriage with Balambal. 
 
 The first ceremony was the formal and public asking 
 of the bride. Seven married women — not widows — 
 carrying plates filled with flowers, and fruits, and sweet- 
 meats, accompanied by seven men, went in procession 
 to my uncle’s house. He met them at the door, and 
 ushered them in with great politeness. 
 
i6o EVERY-DA\ LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 ‘ Wherefore have you come?’ inquired my uncle. 
 
 ‘ We have come to ask your daughter, Balambal, in 
 marriage for my eldest son,’ said my father. 
 
 ‘ What are the jewels you are prepared to offer to my 
 daughter ?’ 
 
 ‘ A necklace of gold mohars, a jewel for the upper tip 
 of the ear, a tight-fitting necklace of fine gold wire, a 
 gold bangle for the hand. These fine jewels we have 
 brought as a present for your daughter.’ 
 
 ‘ Is the bridegroom educated ? ’ 
 
 ‘ He is at present studying in the mission school. We 
 hope that he will by-and-by pass his examinations.’ 
 
 ‘ All right, I agree,’ said my uncle ; and taking the 
 jewels and clothes that we had brought, he put them on 
 Balambal, and caused her and me to sit side by side in 
 the middle of the assembly. 
 
 My father, taking some betel nuts and leaves, and 
 offering them to my uncle, said, ‘ The bride is mine, 
 the bridegroom is yours.’ 
 
 My uncle, taking the nuts and leaves, and giving some 
 in return to my father, said, ‘Yes, the bridegroom is 
 mine, and the bride yours.’ 
 
 It would be tedious to describe all the ceremonies 
 that took place at the marriage. A spacious leafy bower 
 or hall was erected, and decorated with bright lamps, 
 and tinsel paper of red and yellow, and blue and gold. 
 
 A piece of cow dung, to represent the belly god, was 
 placed in the middle of the room where the marriage 
 ceremony was to take place, and near it two pots tied 
 round with cloth, to represent another famous god and 
 his wife. 
 
MARRIAGE. 
 
 i6i 
 
 After worship had been performed, and gifts offered 
 to these gods, and ghee poured on the fire, the 
 bride’s father caused me to clasp Balambal’s right 
 hand, and placing some betel leaf and nuts and a silver 
 coin on the top of our hands, he held them all together, 
 and guided them round the pots, saying, ‘ Upon Siva, 
 upon Parvathi, upon Agni, upon the three hundred and 
 thirty millions of gods, and in the presence of all here 
 present, upon heaven, upon earth, upon everything 
 sacred, I give my daughter in marriage to thee as thy 
 wife.’ When the bride’s father had said this, the mother 
 poured water on our hands, and thus they gave their 
 daughter to me. 
 
 I also repeated the formula, ‘ Upon Siva, upon Par- 
 vathi, etc. I regard this maiden as my wife. I will not be 
 faithless to her. I will never look on the face of another 
 woman. I will not deviate from this sacred promise.’ 
 
 The wedding garments and gold wedding ornament 
 for the bride were now brought forward on a brass 
 salver, and presented to the oldest man in the assembly 
 for his blessing. He took them, touched them with 
 both his hands, and passed the plate to some one else. 
 
 When the salver came round to the Brahmin priest, 
 he handed it to me, and told me to give it to the bride. 
 I did so. The bride’s companions then spread out the 
 cloth, and threw it over her. The Brahmin then gave 
 me the gold tali, telling me to tie it round the bride’s 
 neck. I did so, and the bride’s companions, one by one, 
 also knotted it. Then all the Brahmins present showered 
 their blessings on us in Sanscrit, and the other caste 
 people wished us unbounded prosperity and happiness, 
 
i 62 every-day life IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 and a life unmixed with cares and sorrows. The bride’s 
 companions then took the bride inside and dressed her 
 properly, and bringing her back placed her on my left. 
 Only now was the bride my wife. 
 
 The Brahmin told us toTove each other like Siva and 
 his wife Parvathi. The bride’s companions brought a 
 cup full of milk and plantain fruit, and told the bride to 
 give it to me to taste. I drank a little, and in the same 
 way gave the cup to her to drink. 
 
 After this a heap of raw rice along with some grass 
 was placed in a brass salver before the bride. My 
 parents came one after the other, and taking some of the 
 rice and grass in both hands, put them on my knees, 
 shoulders, and head, and then on those of the bride. 
 This ceremony was repeated three times. The bride’s 
 parents then did the same, and after them every aged 
 member, male and female, in the assembly. 
 
 After this my bride and I stood up, and two women, 
 each with a plate containing a red mixture and a burn- 
 ing wick, stood before us, and raised the plates from our 
 feet to our heads three times. Then they dipped their 
 fingers in the red mixture and marked our foreheads with 
 it. Then the lights were waved again several times in 
 front of us. 
 
 The Brahmin then joined the little finger of my left 
 hand with that of my wife’s right hand. I followed my 
 companions. My wife came after me with her finger 
 joined to mine, and her companions followed her. In 
 this way we walked three times round the fire, the grind- 
 stone, and the marriage pandal or hall, and full pots. 
 The third time I was told to lift up my bride’s right foot 
 
FLEASAA^TRV. 163 
 
 with my right hand, and place it on the grindstone. I 
 did so. 
 
 We were then shown a star in the sky, and told to 
 behave well, especially the bride. 
 
 In the evening we were seated in a gorgeous palanquin, 
 along with a boy and girl, and with music and lights 
 were carried in procession through the town. All our 
 relatives had a light burning before their doors in honour 
 of the occasion. 
 
 On our return home we were presented with a cup of 
 milk and plantain fruit, and then were placed in the 
 marriage spot to amuse ourselves by pitching flowers at 
 each other. 
 
 On the fourth evening of the feasting and ceremonial, 
 a large quantity of water was poured into a big vessel, 
 and mixed with saffron powder and quicklime to make 
 it red. 
 
 Into this vessel a ring and a bangle were thrown, and 
 we were told to get them out. I got out the bangle and 
 my wife got out the ring. Then I took the water in 
 a small vessel, and wetted my wife from top to toe. 
 Others in the company shared in the amusement, and 
 amid much laughter threw the coloured water at each 
 other. We all then went to the tank, with music sound- 
 ing, and after bathing we were decked with ornaments. 
 
 The feast continued for several days longer, during 
 which we received many presents from the bride’s parents, 
 and then the festivities came to an end. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE ZENANA MISSIONARY VISITS BALAMBAL— A 
 STEPMOTHER— A MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 S my bride was still a girl, not yet old enough to live 
 
 with me as my wife, she returned, as soon as the 
 marriage festivities were over, to her father’s house. We 
 had, however, frequent opportunities of seeing and con- 
 versing with each other. 
 
 Balambal had been attending the Mission Caste Girls’ 
 School. Usually when a girl is married she ceases 
 attending school, so that her education is stopped before 
 it has advanced sufficiently far to be a permanent advan- 
 tage to her. Reading and writing, in many cases not 
 having become sufficiently easy to be a pleasure, are 
 often laid aside and become lost arts after a girl enters 
 on her married life. 
 
 My uncle and aunt being sensible people, and per- 
 ceiving the disadvantage of taking a girl too soon away 
 from school, allowed Balambal to return. 
 
 One day while I was staying in my uncle’s house, the 
 lady in charge of the girls’ school drove up to the house 
 in her carriage. The heat is so great that no Europeans 
 not even the missionaries, walk. All either ride or drive. 
 
 164 
 
MISS PHILP^S PECEPTIOA.^ i6s 
 
 Miss Philp had asked permission to visit my aunt and 
 the other women in the house. Balambal was very fond 
 of her, and had often told me what a good, kind lady she 
 was. Her pleasant face was pale with the heat, and 
 her gold-coloured hair was tied at the back and hung 
 down in graceful curls. 
 
 Stepping from her phaeton she gave her horse a pat, 
 and came into the house. 
 
 ‘ Fetch a chair for the lady,’ said my aunt to Balambal. 
 
 ‘Are you Balambal’s mother?’ Miss Philp asked in a 
 pleasant voice. 
 
 ‘Yes,’ said I, in English, wishing to show my ability. 
 ‘ That is her mother, and that woman pounding rice is 
 a servant. These other women are neighbours that have 
 come in to see you.’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, you talk English,’ she said. ‘ Are you Balambal’s 
 brother ? ’ 
 
 . ‘ No, I am her husband.’ 
 
 ‘ Ah, I am very glad you allow your wife to attend 
 school.’ Then turning to my aunt: ‘ Your daughter is 
 very clever j she is one of the brightest girls in the 
 school; I should have been very sorry to lose her.’ 
 
 ‘ I am very glad,’ said my aunt, ‘ and we are glad to 
 have the honour of your visit’ 
 
 The women had by this time drawn a little nearer, 
 and were looking at the English lady with great interest. 
 
 ‘ Are you married ?’ asked one. 
 
 ‘ No, I am not,’ said Miss Philp with a smile. 
 
 The women looked at each other in astonishment 
 
 ‘ In my country all the women don’t marry.’ 
 
 ‘ That is very strange,’ said my aunt ‘ We think 
 
i66 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 that every woman should be married, unless she is a 
 widow.’ 
 
 ‘What is your age?’ asked another woman, an old 
 grandmother with white hair and two protruding upper 
 teeth. 
 
 ‘ I am not so young as Balambal, nor so old as you,’ 
 said the lady. 
 
 ‘ Do you get a large salary ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I don’t work for money, but from love to God, and 
 from a desire to tell you about Him. I get enough for 
 my necessities.’ 
 
 ‘ She won’t like to be asked these questions,’ I said to 
 my aunt. ‘ English people are different from us.’ 
 
 ‘ If the lady does not like it, we must not ask them ; 
 but we thought she would not be offended. Hindus 
 like to be asked all about their affairs.’ 
 
 ‘ I am not offended,’ said Miss Philp, with a kindly 
 smile. ‘ I know that your customs are different from 
 mine. Will you allow me to read to you a story out of 
 this book ? ’ 
 
 My aunt agreed to this. Some mats were brought 
 and spread ; the women sat down, and Miss Philp read 
 the story of the prodigal son. The women were very 
 much pleased with the story. It evidently interested 
 them and touched their hearts. 
 
 After they had talked a little about it, I said, ‘ Chris- 
 tianity is not true.’ 
 
 ‘Why do you say that?’ asked Miss Philp. ‘What 
 reason have you for saying that it is not true ? ’ 
 
 ‘ There are many reasons.’ 
 
 ‘ Well, can you mention one or two? ’ 
 
J//SS PHILP HAS THE BEST OF IT 167 
 
 ‘ The Bible says that God is a Spirit, and that God 
 made man in His own image.’ 
 
 ‘ You think that a spirit can’t have an image. Have 
 you got a pencil or a piece of chalk ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I have a pencil,’ said I. 
 
 ‘ Well, take a piece of paper. Now draw me a “ figure 
 of speech.” You can’t’ 
 
 I was utterly confounded. I did not expect that my 
 objection would be so easily answered. 
 
 ‘ What are your other reasons ? ’ she asked. 
 
 ‘ It says in the Bible, that after God made the world. 
 He saw that all things were very good. If He were 
 God, why did He not know beforehand that they would 
 be good? Why did He need to see them?’ 
 
 Miss Philp laughed. ‘These objections,’ she said, 
 
 ‘ are very ingenious. Did you find them out for 
 yourself? ’ 
 
 ‘ No,’ I said ; ‘ I heard a Brahmin talking about 
 
 Christianity ? ’ 
 
 ‘If he has no stronger objections to bring against 
 Christianity than these, you may conclude that Chris- 
 tianity is true. The Bible does not say that God did 
 not know that all things would be good before He made 
 them. What it says is true — that He saw that all things 
 that He had made were very good. I must go now, as 
 I have to visit the school before breakfast. Salaam, 
 salaam.’ 
 
 All the women rose, accompanied her to the street, 
 and watched her get into her carriage and drive away. 
 
 My stepmother was of a cross and miserly dispo- 
 sition, and she had been much displeased at the expense 
 
1 68 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 of my marriage ceremonies and festivities. She did not 
 look forward with any satisfaction to Balambal’s coming 
 and staying with us permanently. She therefore re- 
 ceived Balambal very sulkily when, owing to my uncle 
 and aunt receiving a sudden and urgent message to 
 go to Madras to see a relative that was very ill and 
 supposed to be dying, their daughter was sent to stay 
 with us till their return. 
 
 ‘ Take your food, and be off to school!’ my stepmother 
 shouted to Balambal and me in an angry tone, the first 
 morning after Balambal came. 
 
 We, as frightened as rats that had seen the cat, went 
 and sat down in the hall. 
 
 Spreading an old withered plantain leaf, my step- 
 mother put some cold rice on it, and poured over it a 
 little buttermilk. 
 
 ‘Oho 1 is this our fate?’ said I, puttijig my fingers in 
 the rice ; then, rising, I went off to school. 
 
 At one o’clock, on my way home again, I met Balam- 
 bal at the corner of a street, and joining her, I began to 
 talk about my stepmother’s cruelty. 
 
 ‘ I will not live with her,’ I said ; ‘ I will run away.’ 
 
 ‘ Will you leave me ? ’ said Balambal. 
 
 ‘ No ; but I won’t stay with her. When I leave 
 school I will get a situation, and earn some money, and 
 you and I can live by ourselves.’ 
 
 ‘ That would be very nice,’ said Balambal ; ‘ but what 
 would the neighbours say ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I don’t care what they would say. If you live with 
 my stepmother she will kill you, I am sure of that’ 
 
 We bought some cakes, and were eating them on the 
 
CHARITY. 
 
 169 
 
 way. A poor boy, his hair all matted, his body dirty, a 
 small tattered rag round his waist, held out his hand in 
 a cringing manner, and begged us to give him a piece of 
 our cake. ‘ I have had nothing to eat all day,’ he said, 
 ‘ and I am very hungry.’ 
 
 I abused him, and ordered him off. 
 
 ‘ Don’t speak like that,’ said Balambal. ‘ If we become 
 like him, others will speak to us in that way ; let us give 
 him some.’ 
 
 When we reached home, and were waiting for our 
 food, my stepmother said : 
 
 ‘ Is this the way your father brought you up? Look 
 at the impudence of the brats. Like a dog leaving its 
 food they ran away.’ Then, turning to the servant, she 
 said, ‘ Don’t give them any food.’ 
 
 We stood amazed, as if a thunderbolt had struck us. 
 
 My father came in soon after, and, seeing the con- 
 fusion, asked what it was all about. 
 
 ‘ Your son and daughter-in-law have been sulking 
 all day, and would not take their food,’ said my step- 
 mother. 
 
 Going into another room, my father called me, and 
 asked me to tell him fully and particularly what had 
 happened. 
 
 I said nothing, but, thinking of the evil of having no 
 mother, I stood sobbing bitterly. 
 
 ‘ Don’t cry,’ said my father ; ‘ tell your mind freely.’ 
 
 I was much afraid, and said, ‘ I don’t know anything 
 about it.’ 
 
 ‘ Tell Balambal to come,’ said my father, with a 
 gesture of impatience. 
 
1 70 EVERY-DAY LIRE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 I went, and, telling my wife that my father wished to 
 speak with her, I narrated what had passed between us. 
 
 ‘ Is that all ? ’ she said. ‘ It won’t be difficult to excuse 
 ourselves in some way.’ 
 
 She then went into the room where my father was. 
 He had thrown off his upper cloth and his turban, and 
 was seated cross-legged on a grass mat. There was a 
 look of angry determination on his face. Balambal 
 stood respectfully before him. 
 
 ‘ Have you had your food ? ’ he asked. Balambal was 
 a favourite with him, and as he spoke to her the 
 expression of his face softened, and the tones of his 
 voice became tender. 
 
 ‘ I cannot have taken my food, when you yourself, 
 my husband, and my mother-in-law are still without it,’ 
 said Balambal, in a gentle, conciliatory manner. 
 
 ‘ Have you been to school to-day ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes; but to-morrow is a holiday.’ 
 
 ‘ What did you learn to-day ? ’ 
 
 ‘ We read a story.’ 
 
 ‘ What was it ? ’ 
 
 ‘Must I tell you the whole of it?’ 
 
 ‘ Yes, if you can.’ 
 
 ‘ There was a king who for a long time had no chil- 
 dren, but who at length received from the Almighty the 
 gift of a daughter. He brought her up with such 
 tenderness and love, that her complexion was fresh as a 
 peach, and each day new beauty and grace were added 
 to her person. The king having been so long childless, 
 his daughter was as precious to him as the flower on a 
 tree that blooms but once in a hundred years. 
 
AN APT STORY. 
 
 171 
 
 ‘ In order to obtain a suitable husband for her, the 
 king caused her portrait to be painted, and sent to 
 every country. A husband, the only son of a king, and 
 whose mother was bad, was chosen. The marriage 
 was celebrated, and the princess went to her future 
 home. 
 
 ‘ Her husband’s stepmother, with whom she had to 
 live, was a woman of low origin, as stupid as a donkey, 
 and of a quarrelsome, jealous temper. The princess, 
 who had been brought up like a swan, now found herself 
 like a bird in the hands of the fowler. She patiently 
 and meekly submitted to all the cruel and unreasonable 
 treatment of her mother-in-law. She was like the sugar 
 cane squeezed between the rollers of the mill, and was so 
 overwhelmed with sorrow that she at length resolved 
 to put an end to her life. To add to her distress, her 
 husband took his stepmother’s part, and he also began 
 to ill-treat her. The princess, thus oppressed beyond 
 endurance, one day ended her misery by jumping into 
 a well.’ 
 
 My father, admiring Balambal’s cleverness, said, ‘You 
 are a capital girl. You have been able to throw your 
 own circumstances into the form of a story.’ 
 
 ‘ I do not deserve to be praised,’ said Balambal. ‘ If I 
 am clever, it has only made me the victim of jealousy 
 and ill-will. The abuse I have received is like molten 
 lead poured into the ear.’ 
 
 ‘ I did not know that my wife had been causing you so 
 much uneasiness; but don’t be vexed, I will see to it, and 
 make it all right.’ 
 
 I had been listening outside, and thinking it well to 
 
172 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 seize this opportunity, I ran to my father, and said that 
 I also was treated in the same way. 
 
 ‘ Begone ! ’ shouted my father. ‘ You are a downright 
 fool ! You have not the sense of a woman. You can be 
 duped by any one.’ 
 
 Mortified at being spoken to like this, especially before 
 my wife, I ran away with all haste. 
 
 My father went to my stepmother, and said, ‘ O 
 buffalo ! why will you not cease showing your evil 
 temper ? What ! are you possessed ? Does the devil 
 need to be driven out ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I don’t know what you mean,’ said his wife. ‘ You 
 are either offended with me, or you are hungry. It is 
 now meal time. I will spread the plantain leaf.’ 
 
 ‘ You are talking nonsense,’ said my father. ‘Answer 
 my question.’ 
 
 ‘ What do you want me to say ? I am innocent, and 
 know nothing. The child is crying. I know not what 
 to do. I wish I were dead ! ’ 
 
 ‘ I know you are a talkative woman,’ said my father, 
 seeing that he could do little good by reasoning or 
 scolding. ‘You had better hold your tongue now.’ 
 
 ‘ If I am talkative, so are those related to me. You 
 had better hold your peace, too,’ said my stepmother, 
 leaving the room. 
 
 After this we were not treated so harshly, although 
 there were occasional scenes. My stepmother went 
 about sulky and silent. She was afraid to provoke my 
 father’s anger too far, as she knew that he would not 
 hesitate to give her a sound thrashing. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A HINDU DOCTOR— DEATH— MOURNING— CREMATION. 
 
 Y father went to see his farm, and visit his brother at 
 Pollachy, and while there, the weather being wet 
 and cold, he had a severe attack of fever and ague. 
 Instead of remaining quiet in his brother’s house till he 
 should be well, he set off for home with the fever strong 
 upon him. 
 
 ‘ Oh dear me ! ’ exclaimed my stepmother, when she 
 saw the bullock cart come to the door with my father, 
 too weak to get out. ‘ How sick you are ! Coopooswamey, 
 come and help your father out. He is trembling and 
 cold with ague. What shall we do? What shall we do ?’ 
 
 ‘ I am very sick,’ said my father, in a faint voice. ‘ I 
 can’t move ; my back, and legs, and arms are all aching.’ 
 
 Grieved to see him so ill, I helped him to get up, 
 supported him into the house, and laid him down on a 
 mattress on the floor. 
 
 ‘ The cold wind blew through the cart all night,’ said 
 my father. ‘ I am worse than I was. I don’t think I shall 
 get better.’ 
 
 ‘ Don’t say that,’ I replied. ‘ We will send for the 
 doctor, who will give you good medicine.’ 
 
 173 
 
174 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 ' ‘ And I will worship the gods for you,’ said my 
 stepmother. 
 
 ‘ That’s not of much use,’ replied my father ; ‘ but 
 you can do as you please. This shivering is very 
 bad.’ 
 
 The news of my father’s illness spread quickly among 
 the neighbours, and many came in to see him. They 
 crowded the little room where he was lying, and talked 
 about his case. 
 
 ‘ Run for the astrologer,’ said my uncle, who had 
 a few days before returned from Madras, and who had 
 taken Balambal home again. ‘We cannot call the 
 doctor till the astrologer tells us whether this is a 
 suitable day to begin a course of medicine.’ 
 
 I went off at once to the astrologer’s house, in the 
 Brahmins’ street. He was sitting on the low verandah 
 in front of his house, reading aloud in the singing 
 manner in which Hindus read all poetry, and moving 
 his head backward and forward in time with the 
 reading. He was dressed in pure Hindu fashion, 
 without a jacket. The sacred marks on his brow and 
 arms had been carefully and neatly made, and he wore 
 round his neck a string of sacred beads. 
 
 Making a profound obeisance, I stood respectfully 
 a little distance from him. 
 
 ‘ What ? ’ he asked, raising his head and looking 
 at me. 
 
 ‘ My father has just returned from Pollachy very 
 ill with fever. Will you graciously tell me whether 
 this is a propitious day for commencing to take 
 medicine ? ’ 
 
THE PHYSICIAN. 
 
 175 
 
 ‘ I will think and tell you.’ 
 
 I waited while the astrologer carried on his mental 
 calculation. 
 
 ‘ To-morrow he can take medicine, not to-day.’ 
 
 Thanking him for this information, I made a pro- 
 found salaam and hastened homewards. 
 
 As nothing could be done till next day, my father 
 was simply fed on water in which rice had been boiled. 
 My stepmother went to the temple. 
 
 Next day a native physician was called. He was a 
 little man, with a stoop, and a pursed-up mouth. He 
 carried a big stick in his hand, and wore a handkerchief 
 over his bare shoulders and chest, which were smeared 
 with white ashes. 
 
 The little man looked at my father’s tongue and felt 
 his pulse. 
 
 ‘The fever is very strong. It will be necessary to 
 give medicine at once,’ he said. 
 
 ‘ I have had no sleep, and I can’t eat. The fever has 
 not left me for two days. I am very weak,’ said my 
 father. 
 
 ‘ Here is a list of the medicines that will be needed,’ 
 said the doctor, unfolding a paper. ‘ The whole amounts 
 to twenty-five rupees {^£ 2 ). I have a powder with me 
 that will require to be mixed with these medicines ; the 
 cost of the powder is only five rupees ’ (eight shillings). 
 
 ‘ Must I pay all this money at once ? or can I give 
 it to you afterwards ? ’ inquired my stepmother. 
 
 ‘ Any payment that you may make afterwards will 
 be acceptable,’ said the doctor, in a dry manner ; ‘ but I 
 can do nothing till the sum I have mentioned is paid. 
 
1 76 E VER V-DA V LI EE IN SO UTH INDIA. 
 
 How can I buy the medicines unless you give me the 
 money to buy them with ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Please take twenty rupees ; I will pay the rest 
 afterwards.’ 
 
 ‘ The sum I need is so small,’ said the doctor, ‘ it is 
 not worth while breaking it. We must not eat half, 
 and leave half of the same mouthful. Give thirty 
 rupees and I will make up the medicine. I cannot 
 procure the drugs for a less sum.’ 
 
 ‘ Coopooswamey,’ said my stepmother to me, ‘ fetch 
 me the key of the money-box. It is tied to the chair 
 at your father’s side.’ 
 
 I brought the key. My stepmother got the money, 
 and with great and manifest reluctance paid it to the 
 doctor. She knew that he was telling lies about the 
 price of the medicines, but she also knew that he would 
 not do anything for the sick man until this large sum 
 were paid. She seemed, as she slowly counted out 
 each coin, to be saying in her mind, ‘ My beloved 
 rupee ! How can I endure the pain of parting with 
 thee ?’ 
 
 The physician took the money and went away. Two 
 hours afterwards he returned with four medicinal balls, 
 which he said were to be taken in the course of 
 the day. 
 
 Having received the thirty rupees, his haughtiness 
 increased ; he walked with a eonsequential air, and looked 
 sideways at us all. 
 
 After taking the medicine my father became worse. 
 The cold stage came on so violently that he seemed 
 as if about to go into a fit. I ran to call the doctor 
 
LAST FAREWELLS. 
 
 177 
 
 again, but he refused to come. ‘I have business now,’ 
 he said. ‘ I will call in the evening.’ 
 
 The medicine which my father had taken caused him 
 great agony, and brought on unconsciousness. All in 
 the room expected him to die. 
 
 One by one, we each put a few drops of milk in his 
 mouth. 
 
 ‘ This is from your sister,’ said my aunt, with a choked 
 voice and streaming eyes. 
 
 ‘ This is from your brother,’ said my uncle, who had 
 that morning come, at our urgent request, from Pollachy. 
 
 ‘ This is from your son,’ said I, with crushed feelings 
 and trembling knees, as I put a drop of milk in his 
 mouth. It was very solemn. I felt as if taking a last 
 farewell, and that the next service I should have to 
 perform for my dear father would be to put the lighted 
 torch to his funeral pyre. 
 
 My father, awaking out of unconsciousness, and seeing 
 our distress and excitement, called his wife to him. She 
 came and leaned over him to hear what he wished to say. 
 
 T have not long to live,’ he said ; ‘I married you, and 
 I have protected you. Be careful after I am gone not to 
 bring any disgrace on me. Alas! what will become 
 of my children?’ cried he, bursting into tears and burying 
 his face in the pillow. ‘Don’t be unkind to them.’ 
 
 I went again for the physician, but he was very saucy. 
 ‘What a great deal of trouble you give!’ he said; ‘I went 
 before, and they were very unwilling to pay me : they 
 have no mind to part with their money.’ 
 
 When I reached home and told what the doctor 
 said, my stepmother asked my uncle to go and call him. 
 
 M 
 
178 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 ‘Tell him/ she said, ‘that we will give him anything that 
 he asks.’ 
 
 This was just what the greedy, selfish physician wanted. 
 
 He came, felt my father’s pulse, and said that he 
 would not give any more medicine unless fifty rupees 
 were first paid. 
 
 He received the money and gave my father a pill. 
 My father died next morning at seven o’clock. 
 
 As soon as we saw what had occurred we all beat our 
 breasts, crying out together, ‘Alas! he is gone, Alas! he 
 is gone ! ’ - _ 
 
 The men then went outside, and the women, forming 
 a circle with their arms on each other’s necks, bowed 
 their heads and mourned together, weeping bitterly and 
 chanting a dirge. Neighbour women came, some with 
 plates of betel leaf, betel nuts, and tobacco, others with 
 flowers, others with sandal-wood paste; and each one em- 
 bracing my stepmother, bewailed with her. She did not 
 seem to be very greatly distressed, for, after making a 
 show of weeping and lamenting, she went into her room. 
 
 My father’s concubine came with her two daughters 
 and her son, and lamenting and weeping bitterly, 
 embraced the corpse. 
 
 We were all surprised to see this woman mourning 
 over the dead so bitterly, while the proper wife sat so 
 calm beside the dead body. The concubine embraced 
 me, and clasped me close in her arms, as I sat with the 
 tears running down my cheeks and constantly blowing 
 my nose. With much grief and emotion she exclaimed, 
 ‘ Alas! it is our sad fate. You are left an orphan. You 
 have now none but God to depend on.’ 
 
SORRO w. 
 
 179 
 
 My father’s death was my first real sorrow. While 
 he was alive his thoughtfulness and tenderness seemed 
 to me so much a matter of course that I did not value 
 them or think it necessary to be grateful for them ; but 
 now that they were gone for ever, I felt their worth for 
 the first time. 
 
 Oh ! how I wished that he could return to me for 
 one hour, that I might tell him how much I loved him, 
 and how eagerly I desired to show him my gratitude ! 
 
 There is something sweet and tender in sorrow for the 
 loss of a dear friend, whose love has become precious to 
 us by his loss, and whose virtues appear enhanced and 
 illuminated as we gaze on them through our tears. 
 
 My uncle and aunt were greatly distressed. 
 
 ‘I have lost my right hand!’ exclaimed my uncle. ‘He 
 helped me in so many ways ! What good will it be to 
 me to live after you are gone ? God has taken you 
 away without the least mercy.’ 
 
 A crowd filled the house, and every one lamented in 
 his own way. Some spoke of his virtues, some of his 
 generosity, some of his nobleness of character, some of 
 the riches of his knowledge, and some of his obliging 
 disposition. 
 
 ‘ What is the use of brooding over the past and spend- 
 ing the time in wailing?’ said the old family priest, in a 
 loud voice. ‘ Make arrangements for the ceremonies ; 
 and get the body taken out of the house, or it will 
 be too late. What a misfortune it is that the death 
 has taken place to-day. If he had only lived till to- 
 morrow 1 ’ 
 
 We must wait till his wife’s mother comes. She is 
 
i8o EVEJ^Y-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 in Peroor. We have sent for her. She will come soon,’ 
 said my uncle. 
 
 ‘It will be* madness to wait for any one,’ exclaimed 
 the priest. ‘ Will the old woman raise the dead ? In 
 a short time the star Goolican will appear, and then you 
 won’t be able to take away the corpse.’ 
 
 ‘ Go on with the preparations,’ said my uncle. ‘ We 
 can’t wait for the old woman.’ 
 
 My stepmother and my youngest sister at once set off 
 to the tank to bathe, and bring water to wash the body. 
 On the way from the tank they wept and bewailed 
 aloud. My stepmother sat down beside the corpse, and 
 water was poured over them both. 
 
 Some rice was put in a pot on the fire, and my step- 
 mother took a stick and stirred it rapidly. This was to 
 see whether her married life had been pure. If the rice, 
 while she stirred it, were to come over the edge of the 
 pot, she would be considered pure. 
 
 She stirred and stirred vigorously. The rice moved 
 round and round in the pot, but none came out. She 
 threw down the stick in a rage. 
 
 The people looked at one another. 
 
 ‘ She does not mourn for him very much,’ said one to 
 another, in a low tone. 
 
 ‘ She was very cruel to his children,’ said the other. 
 
 ‘ You cannot trust a woman. She must be well 
 watched, and even then she will cheat you,’ said my 
 uncle, from Pollachy. 
 
 Some of the neighbour widows now stepped up to my 
 stepmother, who was standing sulkily aside with her 
 chin on her breast. They untied the string to which the 
 
FUNERAL PROCESSION 
 
 i8i 
 
 marriage ornament was fastened to her neck. The newly 
 made widow quietly allowed them to do this, and then, 
 with a loud cry, threw herself on the ground. The old 
 woman, her mother, came in and embraced her daughter, 
 and then threw herself, weeping, on the corpse. 
 
 Her old husband, who came in with her, clasped his arms 
 round his daughter, and cried a mourning hymn. ‘ Have 
 you departed from us for ever ? Alas! you have left your 
 family in a helpless state I What shall I do ? I have 
 not drawn from you all the money you owed me ! ’ 
 
 The body having now been washed, sacred ashes were 
 rubbed on its forehead, its mouth was filled with rice, 
 and it was wrapped in a new cloth. 
 
 As my father had died on a Thursday, his spirit, it was 
 supposed, would haunt the spot for six months. The 
 dead body was put on a bier, sitting upright, with its face 
 exposed ; but it was not taken out by the door, as the 
 spirit would in that case easily enter the house again. 
 A hole was broken in the wall, and as soon as the body 
 had passed through to the outside the hole was quickly 
 filled up again. 
 
 As the procession proceeded to the burning-place, one 
 of the women cried out — 
 
 ‘ What a wonder man’s life is ! Can he possibly die ? 
 Is he to be borne to the grave, and placed on the funeral 
 pile ? What I A man whom we saw last week riding 
 through. Does he now move towards the grave ? What 
 a wonder 1 It is like a strong green tree felled down. 
 How many there are who, being puffed up with pride 
 and avarice, speak and act as if they were destined to 
 live till the destruction of the world. It is all madness ! ’ 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A HAUNTED HOUSE— MISERY— I GAIN A SITUATION. 
 
 A FTER the funeral ceremonies were over we did not 
 return to our own house, but went to one at the 
 other end of the street that had been secured for us. My 
 father having died on an unlucky day, it was supposed 
 that his spirit would haunt the house for some time. 
 The removal cost us little trouble, because, with the 
 exception of a couple of boxes with clothes and jewels, 
 a few brass vessels, and some cooking utensils, we had, 
 like most Hindus, very little furniture. The change of 
 abode was beneficial in many ways. Our new surround- 
 ings occupied and diverted our minds, and we were 
 spared the anguish of having the painful events of the 
 previous days kept vividly before our minds by associa- 
 tion with the spots where they occurred. We did not 
 see the place where my father used to sleep, where he 
 took his food, where he smoked and chewed betel, where 
 he washed his feet and cleaned his teeth, and above all, 
 where he spent his last painful hours. We had indeed 
 lost him, but we became more quickly resigned to his 
 loss, and we felt it less keenly because we were away 
 
 from so much that could suggest him to our mind. 
 
 182 
 
MISER Y. 
 
 183 
 
 A live chicken was tied to one of the wooden pillars 
 of the supposed haunted house, and left to die of starva- 
 tion. I went frequently, and, looking through the 
 wooden bars of the window, watched its struggles. It 
 lingered on for fourteen days and then lay quite still. 
 Had it died sooner, this would have been regarded as a 
 sign that the spirit was present and had drunk its blood, 
 and another chicken would have been put in its place. 
 As the bird had slowly lingered, and had evidently died 
 of starvation, we concluded that the ghost of my father 
 had gone, and would no more haunt the house. 
 
 Six months were allowed to pass, and then a man who 
 had the power of becoming possessed by an evil spirit 
 was consulted, who assured my step-mother that she 
 might return to the house. A goat was sacrificed, a 
 feast held, and certain other ceremonies performed, and 
 my mother-in-law with her children went back to her 
 former home. I, however, was destined never to enter 
 it again. 
 
 The few months that I lived with my stepmother after 
 my father’s death were the unhappiest of my life. 
 
 She was a woman of a violent, unreasonable, capri- 
 cious temper. Although able to converse in a lively, 
 agreeable manner with her friends outside, she had 
 little but sharp and bitter words for me and for her 
 dependants. How unreasonable a woman in a rage can 
 be, I had daily experience. So uncertain was her temper, 
 that I felt in her presence as if she were a tiger or a 
 serpent. Her very look gave me a catching of breath, 
 and a spasm of indigestion. Ah ! if men and women 
 — women especially — would only consider how bright 
 
1 84 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 and happy they could make the life of all around 
 them by cheerfulness and kindliness, surely many of 
 them would try more than they do to control their bad 
 temper, and cultivate good humour. 
 
 My stepmother had taken such an ill-will to me, that 
 she found fault with everything that I did. If I chatted 
 in a cheerful manner, she would call me a fool that was 
 always talking, and if I sat silent, she would ask what 
 I was sulking at. 
 
 I usually tried to keep out of her way, and if it had 
 not been for the counsels of Balambal and my kind 
 friend the Scripture-teacher, I should have run away 
 from home and lived by begging. 
 
 My uncle and aunt did not know how harshly and 
 unreasonably my stepmother behaved in her own house, 
 because she was always fair and pleasant to them ; so, 
 when at this time they had to go on business to Madura 
 for a few weeks, they sent Balambal to stay with my 
 stepmother. 
 
 ‘You will have to live with her altogether, soon,’ said 
 her mother to her ; ‘ and it will be well to learn before- 
 hand a little of your future life.’ 
 
 My uncle and aunt came to see my stepmother before 
 they left, and spoke some comforting and consolatory 
 words to her. 
 
 ‘ It is of little use to be sad,’ said my aunt. ‘ We 
 must all die some day. Your husband died first, and we 
 must follow him. Your grief will gradually subside at 
 the sight of your children. I hope that you will take 
 care of Coopooswamey and treat him kindly.’ 
 
 ‘ Coopooswamey is a disobedient, troublesome fellow,’ 
 
MY STEPMOTHER SCOLDS. 185 
 
 said my stepmother. ‘ If he is to stay with me, he will 
 need some man to look after him and keep him in order, 
 for I can’t.’ 
 
 ‘ What ! Is it true ? ’ said my aunt. ‘ I can’t believe 
 it. He has always been a good, sensible boy. If what 
 you say is the case, he must surely have fallen into bad 
 company. I will advise him.’ Then, turning to me, she 
 embraced me with tears, and said, ‘ Commit yourself to 
 the god’s care, as you are now fatherless at this stage 
 of your life.’ 
 
 The word ‘ father ’ caused tears of sorrow to roll down 
 my cheeks in torrents. Balambal, too, who was present, 
 wept bitterly. 
 
 My aunt held me fast in her arms as she wept and 
 consoled me. ‘ Don’t be afraid of anything,’ said she. 
 ‘ My husband and I will be father and mother to you, 
 and the god will protect you. Be patient while we 
 are away ; it won’t be long.’ 
 
 Thus left behind, Balambal and I remained with my 
 stepmother as tame as a serpent in a cage. She soon 
 broke out like a termagant, abusing Balambal. Her 
 little naked child was sitting and rolling about on the 
 front verandah, eating a sweet rice cake, when an impu- 
 dent crow hopped forward, and deliberately plucked the 
 whole of the cake out of the child’s hand. The child 
 roared, and its mother came rushing out. 
 
 ‘ Thou ! what hast thou done to the child ? Art not 
 thou born to bring ruin wherever thou goest ? Alas ! 
 not a year has elapsed since thou set thy foot on this 
 threshold. Now, behold ! thou hast swallowed up thy 
 father-in-law. I don’t know whom else thou art to 
 
86 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 devour. No sooner didst thou enter the house than the 
 goddess of fortune departed.’ 
 
 ‘ Madam,’ cried Balambal, ‘ I am innocent. It was a 
 crow that snatched away the cake from the child’s 
 hand.’ 
 
 ‘ Where were you then ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I was here.’ 
 
 ‘ And couldst thou not see to it then ? Thou art 
 a hypocrite, I know. Ah, a rogue ! It is very fine to 
 say a crow did it.’ 
 
 A day or two after this scene, which took place in 
 the open street, in the presence of many of the neigh- 
 bours and passers-by, I was in haste to go to school, 
 and asked the servant to give me my food quickly. My 
 stepmother hearing me, shouted, ‘ What authority ! 
 Serve his food at your convenience. This sort of thing 
 will not do here.’ 
 
 The servant said to me, ‘ Food is ready, but I cannot 
 give it to you now.’ 
 
 I told the servant that I was very hungry, and late 
 for school. My stepmother shouted to the servant to 
 go on with her work, and not talk to a childish fellow 
 like me. 
 
 I was packing up my books in a rage, to go off 
 without food, when Balambal prevented me, and running 
 to the servant begged her, with all humility and gentle- 
 ness, to get permission from the lady to give us food. 
 
 The servant made a joke of this, and said, ‘What! 
 Do you speak with your husband ? Have you both 
 begun to converse so early? You are a fine girl 1’ 
 
 ‘ What if I do speak to him ? ’ said Balambal. ‘ I 
 
BALAMBAL. 
 
 187 
 
 agreed to marry him before this, and now I talk with 
 him. If young people learn to talk with each other, 
 they will be much more likely to be friendly and happy 
 afterwards.’ 
 
 ‘ Very good, very good ! ’ said the servant, laughing. 
 
 ‘ Balambal,’ said I, after the servant had gone, ‘I 
 cannot stay here.’ 
 
 ‘ What will you do ? Will you leave me in your 
 stepmother’s power ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I don’t know what to do. It was cruel in your 
 mother not to take us with her.’ 
 
 ‘ She will soon return,’ said Balambal ; ‘ let us wait 
 patiently till then.’ 
 
 That afternoon I told my troubles to the Scripture- 
 teacher, and asked his advice. He told me that Mr. 
 Knox was in need of a writer, to keep the accounts of 
 the mission. ‘ If you can obtain this situation, you 
 could live at a hostel, or I could give you a room in my 
 house. I will speak for you to the missionary.’ 
 
 The teacher did not wish me to stay with my uncle, 
 as he thought by getting me away from my friends to 
 some place where he could meet me often, he might be 
 able to influence me in favour of Christianity. 
 
 Except in large cities like Madras, European gentle- 
 men never live in the midst of Hindu towns. Their 
 bungalows are usually situated in the midst of large 
 compounds, in a suburb by themselves. They are thus 
 away from the dust and noise of the streets. The bark- 
 ing of dogs, the braying of donkeys, the beating of 
 tomtoms, and the blowing of fifes and bagpipes, that at 
 funerals, marriages, and religious festivals go on all 
 
1 88 ' EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 night, do not vex their ears. Their gardens are nicely 
 kept, and the roads near where they live are always 
 clean, and hard, and smooth. Mr. Knox’s bungalow was 
 near the town, and yet in this pleasant suburb. 
 
 The mission compound is a large piece of ground 
 enclosed on the side next the town by a wall, and on the 
 farther side, where few people walk, and where it is of 
 less consequence whether snakes lodge or not, by a 
 prickly hedge. In one corner is the church, and in 
 another the boys’ and girls’ boarding-schools. 
 
 When I went to pay my respects to the missionary, 
 and ask him for the situation that the Scripture-teacher 
 had told me about, I slowly mounted the broad steps 
 leading to the study door, and waited some time 
 outside. 
 
 I did not know how to make my presence known. 
 Looking through the Venetians, I saw Mr. Knox writing 
 at a large table. I coughed. 
 
 ‘ Who is there ? ’ asked the missionary. ‘ Come in.’ 
 
 I ventured timidly to "enter. 
 
 ‘ Come in,’ said the missionary. ‘ Oh, you are the lad 
 that the Scripture-teacher has been speaking to me 
 about. Your name is Coopooswamey. I should have 
 known that from the ring in your nose. You are a 
 second son, and your brother died before you were 
 born.’ 
 
 ‘ Yes, sir,’ I said. I was surprised that he knew so 
 much about me. He knew it all from the little silver 
 ring in my nose. 
 
 ‘ Sit down.’ 
 
 ‘ I shall stand, sir.’ 
 
J KIND OFFER. 189 
 
 ‘ Very well, if you like that better ; but you need not 
 be afraid of me. Sit down.’ 
 
 I sat on the edge of the chair that he pointed to. 
 
 ‘ I want to hear if you can read well. Very few 
 educated Hindus can read their own language properly. 
 I hope you are not neglecting your own language, and 
 confining yourself entirely to English. Read a few 
 verses of this chapter.’ 
 
 ‘ Yes, that will do,’ said Mr. Knox, after I had read a 
 short piece from the New Testament. ‘You read fairly 
 well — a little too fast, however, and you don’t pronounce 
 all the syllables distinctly. I shall require you to read 
 to me and help me in my Tamil work, as well as keep 
 the mission accounts.’ 
 
 ‘ I will do whatever you wish,’ I said. 
 
 ‘ I will give you six rupees a month, and if you 
 please me you will get an increase by-and-by. Do you 
 agree ? ’ 
 
 This was not a large salary, but it was as much as I 
 could expect at first, so T thanked Mr. Knox for his 
 kind offer. 
 
 ‘ Go and sit at that table in the corner, and I will give 
 you some work.’ 
 
 While I was copying some papers that i\Ir. Knox had 
 placed before me, his servant came in and gave him a 
 bit of paper. 
 
 ‘ Tell him to come in,’ said the missionary. 
 
 The servant went out, and ushered in the postmaster 
 of Poothoor, who came forward in a very polite and 
 deferential manner. 
 
 ‘ I have come to pay my respects to you,’ he 
 
190 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 said to Mr. Knox, who motioned to him to take a 
 chair. 
 
 A little dog that had come in with the servant ran 
 up to the Brahmin playfully. 
 
 ‘Get away; don’t trouble me!’ said he, shrinking from 
 the dog. 
 
 ‘ You don’t like dogs,’ said Mr. Knox, tying it up. 
 
 ‘ No, your honour, we are not accustomed to them. 
 We don’t allow them to enter our houses, or come near 
 us, your honour.’ 
 
 ‘ When did you come to Coimbatore ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Yesterday, your honour.’ 
 
 ‘ Are you still in the post-office ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes, your honour ; but my pay is very small, only 
 fifteen rupees, your honour, very much beneath my 
 merits. I have passed all the examinations for the post 
 of Tasildar and Sheristadar ; but I have hitherto been 
 unsuccessful. What is to be done ? ’ 
 
 ‘ How is it that you have failed to get a good appoint- 
 ment ?’ 
 
 ‘ I have no influence, your honour. Everything goes 
 by favour.’ 
 
 ‘ It is a nice town.’ 
 
 ‘ Yes, your honour, excellent place ; very fine climate, 
 very healthy.’ 
 
 ‘ The Brahmins there are rather ill bred.’ 
 
 ‘ Yes, your honour. They are brutes, they are beasts. 
 I can call them nothing but savages. What can you 
 expect? They have no education.’ 
 
 ‘ They would hardly thank you if they knew the 
 character you give them.’ 
 
THE SCOTCH. 
 
 191 
 
 He smiled at this, and said, ‘ I wish to ask you how 
 far London is from Scotland.’ 
 
 ‘ It depends on what part of Scotland you mean,’ said 
 the missionary. ‘ From my native town, Glasgow, it is 
 about as far as from here to Madras.’ 
 
 ‘ Your honour is a Scotchman ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Yes.’ 
 
 ‘ Ah ! the Scotch are the finest people in the 
 world ! So gentle, so refined, so kind in every 
 way.’ 
 
 ‘ The Scotch are certainly distinguished for some 
 things,’ said Mr. Knox ; ‘ for enterprise, for example, 
 but I don’t think the character you give them exactly 
 applies.’ 
 
 ‘ There are many Scotchmen in India, I think.’ 
 
 ‘Yes, a good many.’ 
 
 ‘ Your predecessor, Mr. Strong, was a Scotchman ? ’ 
 ‘Yes, he was.’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, he was a kind gentleman. He was my bene- 
 factor — my greatest friend, I can say. I studied in his 
 school. It was he who got me my present post. I 
 thank him in my heart every day, along with God ! I 
 have his image here ’ (placing his two hands on the left 
 side of his breast). ‘ I think of him only in the coolest 
 part of the day ! The English are very different from 
 the Scotch.’ 
 
 ‘Yes, they are different in some things.’ 
 
 ‘ They are proud and haughty ; they think them- 
 selves gods, I may say. They consider it beneath them 
 to speak to a humble gentleman like me, or to acknow- 
 ledge my salute.’ 
 
192 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 ‘ Some of them may be proud, and treat you some- 
 what disdainfully ; but it is your own fault’ 
 
 ‘ How, your honour ? ’ 
 
 ‘ You all approach them so abjectly and cringingly, as 
 if you would consider it a favour if they would kick you. 
 You never resent a slight or an insult You submit 
 meekly and patiently to all their treatment of you. As 
 a rule, people will only exercise self-control and for- 
 bearance when they find that they have to suffer if they 
 don’t’ 
 
 ‘Yes, your honour, we do stand before them like 
 that’ 
 
 ‘ You yourselves treat one another worse than any 
 European treats you. See a Tasildar walking down the 
 street, among his bowing inferiors ! how proudly he 
 shoves out his toes, moves his body from side to side, 
 and looks haughtily away.’ 
 
 ‘ Yes, your honour, they do so ; they do walk like that. 
 The Europeans are great rajahs in this country, but 
 I suppose that they are nothing in England. They are 
 mostly the sons of washermen, shoemakers, potters, and 
 people of that class.’ 
 
 ‘ Who told you so ?’ 
 
 ‘ I have heard it.’ 
 
 ‘ I suppose you read it in some native newspaper?’ 
 
 ‘ Yes, your honour ; I did see it in a native paper.’ 
 
 ‘ That is the way you speak about your rulers, is it ? 
 There is not a finer body of men in the world. If these 
 are what you think low-class Europeans, what must those 
 left in Europe be like !’ 
 
 ‘ Yes, that is what I thought, your honour. If a man 
 
A J^EMAJ^A'ABLE CURE. 
 
 ^93 
 
 is worth anything, and has a good position in his own 
 country, he will not leave it.’ 
 
 ‘ Quite the reverse. It is the noble, the brave, the 
 enterprising that come abroad. The low caste have not 
 sufficient courage to do so.’ 
 
 ‘ If they could get a proper position and living in their 
 own country, why did they leave it?’ 
 
 ‘ Their position,’ replied the missionary, ‘ might be 
 good, and yet not so good as that which they enjoy here, 
 with abundant wealth, two or three carriages, four or five 
 horses, a retinue of servants, and the power and dignity 
 of rajahs.’ 
 
 At this point, one of the teachers of the Coimbatore 
 College came in, and the postmaster took leave and went 
 away. 
 
 ‘ You are looking remarkably well,’ said Mr. Knox to 
 the schoolmaster, ‘ are you better now ?’ 
 
 He was a tall, well-made, but flabby-looking man, 
 with a nervous, anxious manner. He had been ill for 
 nearly a year with chronic dysentery. 
 
 ‘ Yes,’ replied the teacher, ‘ I have been well for some 
 time, but I am not strong yet. I have come to pay my 
 respects to you.’ 
 
 ‘ What is the medicine that cured you ? You 
 tried every medicine and every method of cure, I 
 think.’ 
 
 ‘ A native man — a goldsmith cured me.’ 
 
 ‘ What medicine did he give you ?’ 
 
 ‘ He gave me no medicine at all.’ 
 
 ‘ How did he cure you then ?’ 
 
 ‘ He made worship to his god. I heard about him 
 
 N 
 
194 EVERY-DAV LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 and called him. He came, and asked me to give him 
 six annas, which I did. He said he must consult his 
 god whether he could cure me. On the third day he 
 came again and told me he could cure me.’ 
 
 ‘ Did he not give you any medicine ?’ 
 
 ‘ No ; he gave me a few ashes to smear on my 
 forehead.’ 
 
 ‘ What more did he do ?’ 
 
 ‘ He came every second day to see me.’ 
 
 ‘ What did he say ?’ 
 
 ‘ Nothing at all.’ 
 
 ‘ He simply looked at you, and went away?’ 
 
 ‘ Yes, that was all he did.’ 
 
 ‘ When did you begin to get better ?’ 
 
 ‘ From the time that he came. At first, I felt a kind 
 of burning in my stomach. By-and-by that went 
 away.’ 
 
 ‘ What god did he worship?’ 
 
 ‘ Subramamen.’ 
 
 ‘ That is not your god ?’ 
 
 ‘ No ; I worship Vishnu.’ 
 
 ‘Do you worship Subramamen now?’ 
 
 ‘ I worship Vishnu in him. I consider Vishnu in 
 everything.’ 
 
 ‘ What did you give the man ?’ 
 
 ‘ I gave him five rupees for the worship and fifteen 
 rupees as a present’ 
 
 ‘ When did you give it?’ 
 
 ‘ About a month ago.’ 
 
 ‘ And you have been well since then ?’ 
 
 ‘Yes, but I am not quite strong yet.’ 
 
NO MEDICINE. 
 
 195 
 
 ‘ Are you going to return to the college now?’ 
 
 ‘ No, sir, I wish to go somewhere for a change 
 first. After my leave expires I will go back to the 
 college.’ 
 
 After some further conversation he asked permission 
 to go, and, making salaam, he went away. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 MISSION LIFE— ARRIVAL OF A YOUNG MISSIONARY— 
 HINDU CONVERSION. 
 
 HE life of a missionary is not an unpleasant one. 
 
 He shares the importance and dignity of the 
 British ; his power and influence among the native 
 Christians are very great, and he is regarded by the 
 Hindus as a man of light and leading. He mixes more 
 freely among the people, is more approachable by them 
 than any other European. They soon learn that he is 
 an upright, trustworthy man, who earnestly desires to 
 do them good, and promote their interests in every 
 way ; and they therefore, in his private capacity, regard 
 him with confidence and favour. 
 
 Mr. Knox was not tied to any special kind of mission 
 work. He had been frequently requested to teach 
 English and science in the high school, but he steadfastly 
 refused. He held that the Hindu masters could teach 
 all secular subjects, if not as well as a European, yet 
 sufficiently well for practical purposes, and that his duty 
 was to devote himself entirely to direct Christian work 
 and to the general interests of the mission. 
 
 His mornings were occupied in preaching to the 
 
SERMON'-MAKmG. 
 
 T97 
 
 heathen and teaching Scripture in his schools, and the 
 midday was spent in writing and study. He went 
 frequently from home for three weeks at a time, visiting 
 out-stations and preaching in remote villages. 
 
 Although he knew Tamil fairly well, and could speak 
 fluently, he yet had such a sense of the dififlculty of the 
 language and the importance of correct pronunciation 
 that he used daily to practise reading along with me. 
 I would read first, and he after me ; so that he might 
 imitate not merely the pronunciation, but the exact 
 Hindu tone and accent. He became so correct and 
 beautiful a speaker that any one who did not know his 
 voice, hearing him in another room, would not know 
 that it was a European who was speaking. 
 
 In making a sermon he used to dictate to me, and 
 I wrote. When a word or phrase puzzled him, we both 
 assisted in finding the right expression. When the 
 sermon was finished, he would lie on a sofa while I read 
 it to him three or four times. He thus committed to 
 memory, not merely the sentences, but the proper 
 emphasis and intonation. 
 
 Although I could not enter fully into the meaning 
 and spirit of many of his sermons, especially those that 
 were intended for the Christian congregation, yet I 
 could not but admire their pure and elevated character, 
 and I was insensibly yet deeply influenced by them. 
 
 Mr. Smith, a young missionary from England, 
 arrived at this time, and we went to the railway station 
 to meet and welcome him. The station is a sub- 
 stantially built stone platform and row of offices, 
 with a sloping shed for protection from the scorching 
 
98 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 sun. In a roofed enclosure, like a cattle pen, the native 
 passengers were sitting among some bread and sweet- 
 meat sellers, waiting for the train — only gentlemen 
 and their servants, and important people, such as 
 Government clerks, policemen, and Brahmins, being 
 allowed on the platform before the train’s arrival. There 
 were greater hubbub and excitement than usual. A row 
 of policemen, with their white tunics and trousers, 
 their small red turbans, and old muskets, were drawn 
 up in military order. A group of European gentlemen, 
 some in uniform and others in morning dress, were 
 standing by themselves chatting cheerfully, and laugh- 
 ing at each other’s jokes. The chaplain, in a straight 
 black coat and a white tope, came forward, and shook 
 hands with Mr. Knox. 
 
 ‘ Have you come to meet the Governor ? ’ 
 
 No, I did not know that he was to pass Coimbatore 
 to-day. I have come to meet Mr. Smith.’ 
 
 ‘ Ah, he is to be your colleague, I hear.’ 
 
 ‘ Will the Governor stay in Coimbatore ? ’ 
 
 ‘ No, he will merely spend a few minutes, and then 
 go on.’ 
 
 Mr. Knox went towards the group of Brahmins and 
 the native Government officials, who, in all the grandeur 
 of gold-embroidered turbans and white flowing gar- 
 ments, were standing and moving about in a dignified 
 way by themselves. 
 
 ‘How do you do, Junga Rao?’ said Mr. Knox, 
 salaaming, and shaking hands with a stout, handsome, 
 smiling native gentleman, with a broad, intelligent, 
 happy face. ‘ Are you staying in Coimbatore ? ’ 
 
THE GO FEE NOE. 
 
 99 
 
 ‘ I have a case in the District Court here, which will 
 ocupy me for a fortnight,’ replied the pleader. ‘ Are 
 you going anywhere ? ’ 
 
 ‘ No,’ said Mr. Knox, ‘ I have come to receive a 
 young missionary, who has newly arrived from England. 
 Come and see me, and I will introduce you to him.’ 
 
 ‘ I shall be most happy,’ replied the polite Brahmin. 
 
 The bell now rang, and we saw the train coming 
 round the curve over the tank embankment. As it 
 steamed into the station the policemen and the gen- 
 tlemen, both European and native, straightened them- 
 selves up a little. The Governor’s aide-de-camp* and 
 private secretary stepped down from the brass railed- 
 in platform of the gorgeous imperial saloon, which was 
 decked out with crimson and gold, and furnished like a 
 drawing-room. The Governor, a pleasant, stout, white- 
 whiskered gentleman, came out and shook hands with 
 the European gentlemen, as they were one by one in- 
 troduced to him, and then made salaams to each of the 
 native gentlemen who pressed forward to be presented. 
 
 After seeing the Governor I ran to the fore part of 
 the train where Mr. Knox was talking to the young 
 missionary. 
 
 ‘ Have you a servant ? ’ asked Mr. Knox. 
 
 ‘No,’ said Mr. Smith. ‘ I was told in Madras that it 
 would be better to get one in Coimbatore.’ 
 
 ‘ Then show Coopooswamey here all the luggage 
 that belongs to you, and he will select a boy and 
 have the things brought to the bungalow. We need 
 not wait’ 
 
 Leaving a portmanteau and a box, and several small 
 
200 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 packages in my charge, Mr. Knox and Mr. Smith went 
 outside to Mr. Knox’s carriage and drove away. 
 
 The luggage was placed in a little bullock cart under 
 the bamboo cover, and we trotted along briskly till we 
 came to the bungalow, and I went to the dining-room to 
 tell Mr. Smith that his luggage had come. 
 
 The missionaries, Mr. and Mrs. Knox, Miss Philp, 
 and Mr. Smith, were seated at breakfast, and seemed 
 very happy. They were evidently enjoying their meal, 
 and were talking and laughing merrily. A large punkah 
 was swinging over their heads, pulled by the horsekeeper, 
 who was sitting outside on the verandah. The ayah and 
 one of the male servants were waiting at table. 
 
 Although the English in India get out of bed and 
 commence their work, especially all work that has to 
 be done in the open air, at daybreak, they do not take 
 breakfast till about noon, and then their meal is very 
 substantial. 
 
 ‘ Boy,’ I heard Mr. Knox say to his servant, ‘ help 
 Mr. Smith to another chop. You won’t have any more? 
 Well, boy, bring the curry and rice, and get the eggs 
 boiled, and put the jam and fruit on the table.’ 
 
 ‘Yes, sir,’ shouted the boy, and hurried outside to the 
 cook room for the curry and rice. 
 
 ‘ Have you tasted curry and rice yet ? ’ Mr. Knox 
 asked. 
 
 ‘ Yes, I had some in Madras.’ 
 
 ‘ Did you like it ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Fairly well; but I hope to take to it better by-and-by.’ 
 
 ‘ They told me,’ said Miss Philp, ‘ that I was sure to 
 learn the language if I took to curry and rice.’ 
 
HINDU CONVERSION 
 
 201 
 
 ‘ Then 1 must try to like it,’ said Mr. Smith. 
 
 ‘ How did you like Madras ? ’ asked Mr. Knox. 
 
 ‘ Very much,’ replied Mr. Smith. 
 
 ‘ Did you see anything of native life there ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Only the servants, and I do not think it is right to 
 treat them as the Europeans do,’ said Mr. Smith. ‘ We 
 should try to win them by love and kindness.’ 
 
 ‘ Love and kindness are all very well,’ said Mr. Knox ; 
 ‘ but undiluted love and kindness do not suit the 
 Hindus. What they need is fairness and firmness. 
 We have found that no servants can stand praise. If 
 the dinner is particularly well cooked, the curry flavoured 
 specially to our liking, and I say to the boy, “ Boy, this 
 is how I like the curry,” it will never be like that again. 
 Praise your servant, and he will think that he has your 
 favour, and may do as he likes.’ 
 
 ‘ I don’t like to hear that,’ said Mr. Smith, ‘ and I hope 
 that I shall never have these opinions.’ 
 
 As the breakfast seemed nearly over, and the bullock 
 driver was getting impatient to be paid, I stepped 
 forward into the entrance to the room. 
 
 * Has Mr. Smith’s luggage come ? ’ asked Mr. Knox. 
 
 ‘ Yes, sir,’ said I. 
 
 ‘ I will go and see it,’ said Mr. Smith, rising. 
 
 ‘ How much is it ? ’ he asked me when we were by 
 ourselves. 
 
 ‘ Four annas,’ said the bullock boy. 
 
 ‘ He never gets more than three annas, sir,’ I said. ‘ It 
 used to be two annas, but Mr. Knox gives three.’ 
 
 ‘ I will give four annas this time,’ said Mr. Smith ; 
 
 ‘ but I don’t promise to do so alwa}'s.’ 
 
202 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA, 
 
 ‘ What a kind gentleman ! ’ I thought. 
 
 The conversion of a Hindu is usually a slow and 
 gradual process. The truth and saving efficacy of 
 Christianity are not revealed to him as by a flash of 
 lightning piercing the darkness of midnight, or with the 
 suddenness of a tropical dawn ; his spiritual illumination 
 resembles rather what Mr. Knox has told me of the 
 slow approach of day in Northern countries; first, the 
 thin streaks of light seem to make darkness visible, then 
 the night vanishes, and finally a long twilight is suc- 
 ceeded by clear daylight and the full blaze of the sun. 
 
 Generally, the first effect of Christian truth is to open 
 one’s eyes to the folly, absurdity, and vileness of 
 Hinduism. 
 
 It does not need a prophet to reveal the falseness of 
 the gods, the licentiousness and trickery of the priests, 
 and the immoral and debasing character of many of 
 the so-called sacred rites; one’s conscience and natural 
 reason are sufficient to show us all that ; but it needs 
 Christianity, by the contrast of its reasonableness and 
 moral excellence, to throw the deformity of Hinduism 
 into bold relief, and make one disgusted and ashamed 
 on account of it. 
 
 The Christian view of God — His unity, holiness, and 
 love ; the moral law, the Sermon on the Mount, the 
 loveliness of Christ’s character and life, fill a Hindu with 
 profound admiration. He is probably not yet, however, 
 convinced of the Divinity of Christ, or of the efficacy 
 of His sacrifice. Although persuaded that Hinduism is 
 false and Christianity true ; or, as he would express it, 
 that Christianity is a good religion, he does not feel 
 
DECISION FOR CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 203 
 
 bound to forsake the one and embrace the other. ‘Will 
 it not be enough if I worship God in spirit? When 
 bowing before the idol, I will think only of the true 
 God, and He who can read my heart will accept my 
 worship as offered to Him.’ 
 
 There are many educated, cultured Hindus — how 
 many it is impossible to tell — who are in this position. 
 They try to make a compromise with conscience. They 
 read the Bible and pray to the true God ; they believe 
 in Christianity and practise Hinduism. They are the 
 more tempted to do this, as Hindu sentiment is vastly 
 tolerant of speculation, and entirely intolerant of prac- 
 tice. Hinduism has been able to exist so long, because 
 it does not seek directly to fetter thought. It practically 
 says, ‘ Believe what you please, but follow the customs, 
 perform the rites.’ In the bosom of Hinduism, heretical 
 sects flourish luxuriously ; indeed, almost every educated 
 man is in heart an infidel to his own religion. The only 
 thing that Hinduism refuses to tolerate is noncon- 
 formity. 
 
 In most cases it requires something more than mere 
 intellectual conviction to make a Hindu abandon what 
 his forefathers have practised for thousands of years, 
 and what, not merely all the power of the priesthood, 
 but all the influences of friendship, of a patriarchal 
 family life, of early training, of social sentiment and 
 respectability, unite to maintain. It is probably affliction 
 and suffering of some kind that at length startles him 
 out of his cowardly and hypocritical compromise : his 
 business is unprosperous, his health fails, his children 
 die; conscience awakes, and he imagines that his troubles 
 
2 04 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 arc the result of God’s anger. His sins rise up before 
 him. He examines the Christian faith more carefully 
 and anxiously, becomes convinced of the Divinity and 
 authority of Christ, and resolves formally to renounce 
 Hinduism and embrace Christianity by a public 
 baptism. 
 
 He becomes openly a Christian: his heathen practices 
 are abandoned. He is cast off as completely by 
 Hinduism as it has been cast off by him. The doors 
 of the Hindu temple and of Hindu society are shut 
 against him. He has crossed the Rubicon, he has 
 burnt his bridges, and never again can he be a 
 Hindu. 
 
 His knowledge of Christianity, however, may yet be 
 but elementary. He has not yet experienced a spirit- 
 ual change of heart, and is not even aware that any 
 such change is needed. He has forsaken the worship 
 of false gods, and now worships the true; he has 
 embraced a new religion — but not yet become a new 
 creature in Christ Jesus. 
 
 I was gradually and irresistibly brought to this posi- 
 tion. At first I had strenuously resisted the influence of 
 the religious instruction in school, and of the conversa- 
 tions that I had with the Scripture-teacher and Mr. 
 Knox. I tried to believe that there must be a great deal 
 more evil in Christianity and a great deal more good in 
 Hinduism than I could discover. In spite of all my 
 efforts, however, my ancestral faith gradually dissipated 
 like mist. ' 
 
 I did not, however, like so many, subside into indif- 
 ference or scepticism. Never did I doubt the existence 
 
FAITH IN CHRIST. 
 
 205 
 
 of God. I yearned to know Him, and to win His 
 favour. 
 
 I did not conceal from Mr. Knox the state of my mind. 
 
 ‘ I can see,’ said I to him, one day, in the course of 
 conversation, ‘ that the rites that Hinduism prescribes — 
 pilgrimages, bathing in rivers, rolling on the ground, 
 putting ashes on the body, cannot please God ; but there 
 must be some way of pleasing Him.’ 
 
 ‘ There is a way,’ replied Mr. Knox ; ‘ but nothing that 
 we can do can gain for us the favour of God and recon- 
 ciliation with Him.’ 
 
 ‘ How is that ? ’ I asked. ‘ What, then, is to be 
 done? ’ 
 
 ‘ Nothing that man can do can fully satisfy his own 
 conscience ; how, then, can it satisfy God?’ 
 
 ‘ But is not God merciful? ’ 
 
 ‘ Yes, God is merciful; but just now it is not a ques- 
 tion of mercy at all that we are considering. It is how 
 to satisfy His justice and gain His righteous favour ; and 
 nothing that we can do is sufficient for that. No religion 
 since the world began has been able to solve the diffi- 
 culty and show how man can be just with God, except 
 Christianity.’ 
 
 ‘ You mean the death of Christ?’ 
 
 ‘Yes ; Christ’s life and Christ’s death are a sacrifice 
 that are quite sufficient to atone for our guilt. One 
 proof that the death of Christ is a sufficient satisfaction 
 for sin is, that it satisfies the conscience. Those who 
 trust in Christ have perfect peace.’ 
 
 ‘Is there nothing at all, then, that we must do?’ I 
 asked. 
 
2o6 EVERY-DAV LTEE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 ‘ There is much that we must do, but nothing to give 
 us a claim on God. You have heard, perhaps, of per- 
 petual pensions ? ’ 
 
 ‘ No, I don’t remember.’ 
 
 ‘ A perpetual pension is an income which a man 
 receives from the state, not for any merit or worth in 
 him, or for anything that he has done. His great-grand- 
 father or his great-great-grandfather performed some 
 distinguished service for his country, won a great battle, 
 perhaps, and as a reward a pension was granted, not 
 only to him, but to his heirs, also, for all time to come. 
 These heirs could do nothing to merit the pension — it 
 had been gained for them by the merit of their heroic 
 ancestor, and yet they had to do something. They would 
 require to prove their heirship and claim the pension, 
 and probably they would be expected in some way to 
 live worthy of the dignity that they had inherited. 
 So with us. Pardon and the favour of God are 
 an inheritance that is ours through the death of 
 Christ. What we have to do is by faith to claim 
 the inheritance. We must believe ourselves to be 
 Christ’s heirs, and we must believe that God for His 
 sake pardons our sins, that He receives us graciously, 
 and loves us freely.’ 
 
 ‘ Is that all that we must do ? Is nothing necessary 
 except faith ? ’ 
 
 ‘ You must give yourself to God, and faithfully and 
 sincerely endeavour to do His will ; but that only because 
 it is your duty, not to merit or win pardon : that is yours 
 by free gift, and cannot be merited. A loving, obedient 
 child does not fulfil his father’s wishes in order to obtain 
 
THE PATH OF DUTY. 
 
 207 
 
 payment: he obeys him because he loves him. The father 
 will reward him, no doubt ; but it will be from love and 
 kindness. In the same spirit of love we must serve God, 
 and in the same spirit of love He will not fail to reward 
 us.’ 
 
 Although Mr. Knox spoke with great plainness and 
 with abundant wealth of illustration, I did not at that 
 time clearly understand all that he said. In listening 
 to a teacher, we usually appropriate only what our mind 
 is craving at the time. A geologist does not gather 
 plants, nor a botanist stones. I was becoming more 
 and more convinced that it was my duty to embrace 
 Christianity, and the terribleness of that step appeared 
 to me so great that I could not think that there would 
 be no merit in it, and that God would not be pleased 
 with me for taking it. I did not at that time, however, 
 analyse my feelings so exactly as this. I saw simply 
 that it was my duty to become a Christian, and my 
 decision was hastened by events that occurred soon 
 after. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 FAMINE. 
 
 I T was while I held my post under Mr. Knox at 
 Coimbatore that the terrible famine of 1877-78 
 began. It was an awful time, which no one, I imagine, 
 who lived through it, will ever forget. Notwithstanding 
 the heroic efforts of the Government and others, a 
 million and a half of lives were lost by actual 
 starvation. 
 
 At first Coimbatore suffered little, and for a while 
 we were able to send supplies to other districts. 
 Although by this constant drain food became scarce 
 and dear, work in the fields was still available, and 
 labourers could earn their usual wages. 
 
 At length, however, the customary rains failed ; the 
 tanks, when they should have been full of water, 
 were dry, and many of the wells became useless. 
 
 It was a famine not so much of food as of work. 
 There was food for those who had money to buy it. 
 Rice was brought in large quantities from Bengal and 
 Burmah, but the heavens being as brass, and the earth 
 as iron, the chief industry of the country was stopped ; 
 
 labourers could obtain no work, and were quickly 
 
 208 
 
DESPERATION. 
 
 209 
 
 brought to the brink of starvation. The small shop- 
 keepers lost their trade, and the weavers found their 
 cloth increasing on their hands. The people who had 
 no money to buy food had none for clothing either. 
 
 Those who had property sold their jewels, their 
 cattle, their brass idols, the very doors and windows 
 of their houses. Farmers lived for awhile on their 
 seed grain, and then, with the weavers, whose looms 
 were silent because they had no money to buy thread, 
 joined the ranks of the starving labourers, and sought 
 to earn enough to keep life in by working on the roads 
 and on other relief works started by Government. 
 
 Thousands were too weak to work, and for them 
 camps were provided, where, like ravenous beasts, they 
 fed on the lump of doughy rice that was daily thrown 
 down to them. 
 
 Many, rather than violate their caste by eating in this 
 promiscuous fashion, food cooked by they knew not 
 whom, preferred to remain in their village and die ; or at 
 length goaded by despair, would, when just ready to die, 
 set out for the nearest relief camp, and before they could 
 reach it lie down by the wayside and perish. 
 
 Husbands forsook their wives, fathers their children. 
 Mothers clung to their offspring for a while, and then 
 the instinct of self-preservation proving stronger than 
 maternal love, forsook them also. The poor little father- 
 less, motherless wretches wandered about in dirt, starva- 
 tion, and rags, and subsisted on the unwholesome fruit 
 of the prickly pear, and on what they could obtain by 
 begging, and at length found refuge in relief camps and 
 in orphanages provided for them b}’ missionaries. 
 
 O 
 
2 10 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 How pitiful ! how sadly, touchingly interesting to see a 
 group of famine-stricken children coming in to join the 
 orphanage. Squalid and dirty, with a rag tied round 
 their loins, a black earthen pot in their hand, and a look 
 of hunger and savage distrust on their face, they stand 
 before us. 
 
 ‘ It was this boy,’ said the native evangelist Paul — 
 pointing to a lad who stood a little in front of the others, 
 and who had a bolder and more self-reliant look than 
 the rest — ‘ it was this boy who brought the others, 
 and told me they wished to be taken into the 
 orphanage.’ 
 
 We looked at the boy thus distinguished. He had 
 large eyes, a large mouth, and full lips. As we looked 
 at him he hung his head in a bashful manner. 
 
 Looking at the poor boys, Mr. Knox said, in a kindly 
 tone, ‘Would you like to stay with us? We will give 
 you good food and clothes, and make you as happy as 
 we can.’ 
 
 ‘ Yes,’ said the tall boy, whom we afterwards found 
 to be a Roman Catholic called Lazerus. ‘Yes, we will 
 stay.’ 
 
 ‘ You won’t run away ? ’ 
 
 ‘ No, we won’t run away.’ 
 
 ‘Take them,’ said Mr. Knox to me. ‘Give them a 
 comfortable wash, and clean elothes. Better burn their 
 rags. Bathe their heads with carbolie lotion, and don’t 
 let them eat too much at first’ 
 
 I led away the miserable urchins, each one clinging to 
 his rags, and grasping his earthen pot, as if he would still 
 have to collect his food and eat out of it as before. 
 
Jioiv TO CURE LYING. 21 j 
 
 To discipline and train these juvenile savages, for 
 such they had really become, through the demoralising 
 influence of their famine life, was no easy matter. 
 
 Mr. Knox’s first and persistent endeavour was to 
 secure implicit obedience, and destroy the inveterate 
 tendency to lying. 
 
 Lying is so common among Hindus that it is hardly 
 considered a fault. 
 
 ‘ There is nothing that so fosters the habit of lying,’ 
 said Mr. Knox to me, ‘ as on every slight suspicion to 
 ask a number of questions. The person questioned, 
 seeing that you have no proof, and anxious to hide his 
 fault, tells lies ; and tells lie upon lie. If you suspect a 
 boy of doing something wrong, say nothing, but keep 
 your eyes open. When you have satisfactorily discovered 
 the offence, don’t ask any questions, but go to the boy, 
 or call himi to you, and say, “ On such and such an 
 occasion you did so and so.” The culprit, perceiving 
 that he is found out, will not think of telling a lie. If he 
 does, you can say, “Now you are guilty of two faults, 
 first, the crime, and second, a lie to conceal it. If you 
 had acknowledged your fault, I should have pardoned 
 you, but now you must be punished for both offences.” 
 Few will continue to tell lies if they are treated always 
 in this way.’ 
 
 The building in which the boys lived was at the east 
 end of the mission grounds, and in front of it was a 
 pleasant garden, watered by a well. 
 
 Mr. Knox used, the first thing in the morning, to visit 
 the orphanage, and see that all was going on right ; 
 and frequently in the evening he would stroll among 
 
2 14 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 the boys, watch them at their play, and listen to their 
 talk. 
 
 To cheer and brighten their life, he put four violins in 
 the school, and paid a Christian lad to come every night 
 for an hour to teach all who cared to learn. He also 
 built a rabbit and pigeon house, and made the boys feed 
 and attend to the rabbits and the pigeons. Various 
 industries, such as carpentering, weaving, mat and basket 
 making were started, and the boys were made to work at 
 these trades during half of the day. All were taught 
 reading ; but only the youngest and the cleverest were 
 allowed to spend their whole time at school. The little 
 ones, because they were too young to work ; and the 
 bright ones because they, it was hoped, would be able to 
 gain a position among the educated Hindus, which it» 
 would be vain to expect that all the orphans would 
 reach. 
 
 One morning, at half-past six, Mr. Knox came among 
 us while a serious investigation was going on. 
 
 ‘ What is it ? ’ said he to me. 
 
 ‘ I did not wish to tell you, sir,’ I replied. ‘ Some of 
 the boys every morning break one of the rules in a way 
 that is very offensive. I have spoken to them many 
 times, and tried to find out who are guilty, but no one 
 will confess, and no one will tell on the others.’ 
 
 ‘ This is a serious matter,’ said Mr. Knox. ‘ The fault 
 itself might be excused, but to tell a lie to hide it is 
 very bad.’ 
 
 He went into the orphanage, and made all the sixty 
 boys stand in a row. 
 
 ‘ Some of you have been breaking the rules, and you 
 
‘ WILL NO ONE CONFESSV 
 
 215 
 
 all say you do not know who it is. If the guilty will 
 confess I will pardon them, but if they persist in denying 
 I must punish you all.’ 
 
 The boys looked very grave. 
 
 ‘ I did not do it, sir.’ 
 
 ‘ I did not do it, sir,’ said one and another. 
 
 ‘ I don’t wish any one to say that he did not do it,’ 
 said Mr. Knox. ‘ Let the guilty boys speak, or let some 
 one tell who they are.’ 
 
 No one spoke. 
 
 ‘ Hold out’ your hands.’ 
 
 The first boy to receive a stroke of the cane was a 
 little comical fellow called Amos Ours (they had all 
 been baptised after being about a year or eighteen 
 months in the school). He looked up in Mr. Knox’s 
 face with such a grave, innocent expression, that that 
 gentleman had not the heart to hurt him. 
 
 After each of the sixty had received one stroke of 
 the cane, the missionary said, ‘Will no one confess ? If 
 you do not, I must give you six cuts. If you acknowledge 
 your fault, you will be pardoned.’ 
 
 The boys here began to cry, and turned to each 
 other, saying, ‘Was it you? Was it you? If you 
 did it, tell.’ 
 
 ‘ Each of you is responsible for the good behaviour of 
 all the rest. If you don’t try to make each other keep 
 the rules, you must all suffer together.’ 
 
 After giving each boy two more strokes on the hand 
 with the cane, Mr. Knox’s heart began to relent. He 
 was almost sorry that he had said he would give each 
 boy six strokes. 
 
2 10 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 ‘ I won’t punish you any more now,’ he said ; ‘ but if 
 you don’t acknowledge your fault, I must give you the 
 rest another time. To-morrow is Christmas Day ; if 
 you don’t make up your mind before that to teil the 
 truth, you can have no Christmas dinner.’ 
 
 At noon all the children assembled on the verandah 
 to receive 'a Scripture and a singing lesson. 
 
 ‘ They have resolved to acknowledge their fault,’ 
 said I. 
 
 ‘ Let those who have been guilty stand up,’ said Mr. 
 Knox. 
 
 Five boys rose, and among them little Amos Ours, 
 who had looked so innocent. 
 
 ‘ Sit down,’ said the missionary ; ‘ you have been 
 punished sufficiently ; don’t do it again.’ This was a 
 lesson that they never forgot. Never again had such 
 painful measures to be taken. 
 
 When a girl had to be punished she was made 
 to wear, for a day or two, a cloth of a coarse texture 
 and different colour from those of the others. 
 
 The sense of shame which this caused usually made 
 the wildest and most intractable girls gentle and 
 obedient. One of the girls, called Krubay, was taken 
 into the bungalow to help with the baby, and learn 
 ayah work. 
 
 Besides her there were five other servants — the ayah, 
 the cook, the tunecutch (a female servant who assists 
 the cook), the maty (a man who does the household 
 work, waits table, etc.), and a sweeper woman. 
 
 This is the smallest number of servants to be found 
 in almost any European bungalow. 
 
PUNISHMENT. 2 1 7 
 
 It was discovered that a loaf of bread and some other 
 things were being stolen every day. The place where 
 the bread was kept was locked ; yet every day a loaf 
 disappeared. Of course no one knew who took it. 
 
 ‘ I will try to set a trap that will discover the thief,’ 
 said the missionary. He buttered a slice of bread, 
 spread over this a layer of ipecacuanha, and on the top of 
 that a layer of jam. Next day the bait was gone. 
 
 ORPHAN GIRLS. 
 
 The ayah said that she was not very well. Suspicion 
 naturally fell on her ; but this was allayed when it was 
 known that she was suffering from a slight attack of 
 fever, and not from nausea. 
 
 At last Krubay was discovered to be the culprit. 
 
 Mr. Knox made her stand in the presence of all the 
 other children, and, after a grieved and intensely solemn 
 
2i8 EVERY-DAV life IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 manner, telling her the enormity of her fault, he said, 
 ‘ I am going to give you a very severe punishment. It 
 would not be kindness to you to do otherwise. I 
 wish this to be the last punishment that you will ever 
 receive.’ 
 
 The change in Krubay’s character was most thorough. 
 She became honest and truthful. There was no one 
 that Mr. and Mrs. Knox afterwards more trusted and 
 esteemed than Krubay. Mr. Knox relied more on 
 the good influence of rewards than of punishments. 
 
 Every Saturday one pie (half a farthing) was given 
 to each of the little children against whose name there 
 was no bad mark in the record of the week. The 
 larger children got three pies. 
 
 The boys at school who were at the top of their class 
 obtained a reward of six pies ; if lower, three pies ; and 
 if below the middle of the class, nothing at all. The 
 eagerness to obtain these rewards, the bitter grief and 
 tears when they failed, and the happy smiles when they 
 were successful, showed how useful and effectual this 
 mode of discipline was. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 I MAKE UP MY MIND AND RECEIVE BAPTISM- 
 METHODS OF WORK IN INDIA. 
 
 BOUT this time my father-in-law died, and my wife 
 
 and mother-in-law went to live with relatives 
 in Tanjore. It seemed as if the obstacles to my 
 baptism were being providentially one by one removed. 
 My stepmother, aided by her brother, a rascally lawyer, 
 had defrauded me of my share of my father’s property, 
 so that I was quite cut off from all intercourse with her, 
 and I never went to see her. 
 
 When I told Mr. Knox that I had decided to be 
 baptised, he congratulated me very heartily. 
 
 ‘It is a step,’ he said, ‘ that you will never regret. I 
 thought that you were a Christian in heart ; and there is 
 nothing more miserable than to be inwardly a Christian 
 and outwardly a Hindu.’ 
 
 The sacred rite was performed before any one in the 
 town knew, so that no talk or commotion was excited. 
 
 I entered the church — it was the first time that I had 
 ever been present at a Christian service — and sat on the 
 front cane bench. The congregation had assembled, 
 and the bell had stopped ringing. The men were 
 
^20 EVERY-DAY LIRE IN SOUTH 1NDL4. 
 
 sitting on the one side of the church and the women on 
 the other. All were bare-footed — the men having left 
 their shoes outside, and, what seemed to me strange, 
 their turbans were off, and placed on the ground under 
 the seats. A European, when he wishes to show respect 
 to any one, takes off his hat ; a Hindu does exactly 
 the opposite, he puts his turban on. The native Chris- 
 tians, however, have been taught in their worship to 
 follow the European custom. Almost all, even the little 
 boys as well, had their heads half shaved, and wore, 
 Hindu fashion, the tuft of hair at the back of their 
 head. The dress of the women was bright and cheerful. 
 How much cleaner and neater they were than 
 women of the same class among the heathen ! and how 
 wonderfully thoughtful and intelligent they seemed ! 
 The matrons were distinguished from the maidens by 
 having their heads covered by the border of their cloth. 
 
 The missionary and his wife, Mr. Smith, and Miss 
 Philp, sat on the front seat ; and the boarding-school 
 girls, who formed the church choir, were immediately 
 behind them and on the mat in front. 
 
 The pastor, clad in a white gown, entered from a door 
 at the side, and stepping to the pulpit, stood for a few 
 moments in silent prayer, with the sleeve of his gown 
 covering his face. He was dressed in European fashion, 
 with trousers and boots, and wore his hair and whiskers 
 in the same foreign mode. 
 
 Before the sermon, which was a very eloquent one, a 
 chapter was read, a prayer delivered, and two hymns 
 were sung to English tunes, and a native lyric to the 
 accompaniment of a violin. 
 
LAZERUS. 
 
 221 
 
 Then Mr. Knox stepped on to the platform, and 
 motioned to me to stand in front of him. 
 
 He put a few questions to me, made me promise to 
 abandon all idolatrous practices, and live in a manner 
 becoming a Christian ; and then, while I knelt down, he 
 dipped his hand into a brass bowl of water, and baptised 
 me in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy 
 Ghost. 
 
 The ceremony did not make so much impression on 
 my mind as I thought it would. It had appeared to me, 
 in anticipation, such a terribly momentous act ; and now, 
 when it was done, my heart was calm. I was stirred by 
 no deep emotion. I felt, indeed, that I had taken a step 
 that could not be retraced, and I was profoundly thankful 
 that I had done so. My conscience told me that I had 
 done right, and I enjoyed more peace and satisfaction 
 than I had experienced for a long time. 
 
 One of the wildest boys in the school was Lazerus. 
 He had one of his front teeth broken in a fight 
 with some heathen boys who came into the mission 
 compound, and whom Lazerus and the other orphan 
 boys, with stones and sticks, drove out. His broken 
 tooth gave a comical look to his otherwise striking 
 features. 
 
 Mr. Knox put him to learn carpentry, but he would 
 not set his mind to this trade, and there was constant 
 jarring between him and the foreman, and constant 
 complaints carried to Mr. Knox against him. 
 
 At length the missionary said to him, ‘ Do you wish 
 to be a carpenter, or not? If you do, you must give 
 your mind to the work.’ 
 
222 
 
 EVERY-DAY LI EE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 ‘ I don’t want to be a carpenter.’ 
 
 ‘ What then do you want to be ? ’ 
 
 ‘ A servant to master.’ 
 
 ‘ Very good. Go to the bungalow, and I will tell 
 Mrs. Knox to give you something to do.’ 
 
 Lazerus was thus installed as a sort of ‘ boots.’ He 
 cleaned the knives, washed the plates, brushed the boots, 
 and occasionally carried out the baby, which last service 
 he was always delighted to perform, his large eyes 
 sparkling and his big mouth spreading into a smile. 
 After a time Mr. Knox thought that Lazerus should be 
 earning a wage, and as he did not really need his 
 services, he hesitated to include him among the regular 
 household staff, and therefore recommended him to 
 IMr. Smith. 
 
 ‘ I have found him honest, intelligent, and possessed 
 of more character and energy than most Hindus. I 
 don’t think you will find a better boy.’ 
 
 ‘ Since you recommend him I have no hesitation in 
 taking him,’ said Mr. Smith. ‘ What salary must I give 
 him ? ’ 
 
 ‘ If you hire a stranger you will need to give eight or 
 nine rupees, but as it will be Lazerus’s first situation, I 
 think six rupees will be enough. I have no doubt he 
 will be pleased with that. He can give two rupees to 
 the orphanage for his food, keep one rupee, and give the 
 other three rupees to me to put in the mission bank for 
 him. I compel all my servants, Christian teachers, and 
 preachers to put some of their pay every month in the 
 bank. This has proved a very wholesome way of keep- 
 ing them out of debt, and making them independent. 
 
A FAITHFUL SFFVANT. 
 
 223 
 
 They have always something at Christmas to buy new 
 clothes for the year with.’ 
 
 ‘ Very well, I will take Lazerus,’ said Mr. Smith, who 
 was sitting along with Mrs. Knox and her husband in 
 the drawing-room. 
 
 ‘ I will go out to the verandah and tell him,’ said Mr. 
 Knox. 
 
 Lazerus was sitting in a small room a little distance 
 from the bungalow, next to the kitchen, surrounded by 
 plates and knives, lamps and boots. 
 
 When Mr. Knox called him he rose, wiped his hands 
 on a towel, pressed his turban down on his head, loosed 
 his cloth, which was tucked up above his knees, and 
 came to the verandah. 
 
 ‘ Mr. Smith wishes you to be his servant, he will give 
 you good wages, and be very kind to you.’ 
 
 Lazerus hung down his head, and said nothing. 
 
 ‘What is wrong?’ said Mr. Knox. ‘Don’t you want 
 to go?’ 
 
 ‘ I don’t want to leave master.’ 
 
 ‘ But I am giving you no wages, and Mr. Smith will 
 pay you a salary.’ 
 
 ‘I don’t want to leave master,’ said Lazerus. 
 
 Mr. Knox returned smiling to the drawing-room, and 
 described the interview. 
 
 ‘ I did not know that a Hindu was capable of so 
 much fidelity and attachment. Of course I don’t like to 
 drive such a boy away from me.’ 
 
 ‘ He is quite flattered at Lazerus’s preference/ said 
 Mrs. Knox. 
 
 After that Lazerus became Mr. Knox’s personal ptten- 
 
224 
 
 EVERY-DAY LIEE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 dant. He went with him on all his journeys, packed his 
 clothes, his camp furniture and utensils, and cooked his 
 food when away on preaching tours. Of course he 
 obtained from Mr. Knox the salary that Mr. Smith 
 would have given him. He occasionally gave trouble, 
 so much so that the rod had to be administered. Mr. 
 Knox would tell him to hold out his hand, and would 
 then administer the chastisement that seemed necessary. 
 Lazerus would take neither rebuke nor punishment 
 from any one but his master, and even Mrs. Knox had 
 to confess that he was quite beyond her control, yet a 
 beating from ‘ master ’ always did him good. His face, 
 however gloomy and sulky before, would brighten, and 
 he would do his work with a cheerful, happy alacrity, as 
 if a burden had been lifted from his mind. 
 
 Once Lazerus ran away, but when Mr. Knox returned 
 from his next journey he found him on the front steps, 
 waiting with a smile to welcome him. 
 
 Mr. Smith was very earnest and zealous. Having 
 come to India with his soul on fire to convert the Hindus, 
 it was a great trial to him to be required to wait for a 
 year, and quietly to study the language, and not be 
 allowed to conduct any department of the mission. 
 
 But an apprentice does not usually begin to learn his 
 trade by setting up his notions of how things should be 
 done. A missionary has at first a hard task. He has 
 to learn the use of his tools, and the nature of the 
 material he is to work on. He knows neither the 
 language nor the habits and dispositions of the people 
 whom he has come to teach and convert. His know- 
 ledge and ideas are not the knowledge and ideas that 
 
AJV UNFORTUNATE KINDNESS. 
 
 225 
 
 they can understand. He is at first in many respects 
 unfitted to understand them and be their teacher, and 
 yet not unfrequently the first thing he does is to criticise 
 the senior missionaries who are associated with him. 
 
 It is well if the young missionary keeps these opinions 
 to himself, and lets them lie in his head for a time un- 
 expressed and unpractised, till he is able to judge what 
 fate they deserve. Probably he will be too earnest and 
 zealous to do this ; he will be prone to quarrel with the 
 older missionaries, and pass through a period of painful 
 jangling before his relation to them is properly adjusted, 
 and he settles down as a wise, sensible, useful missionary. 
 
 ‘ If you wish to make a man your enemy, show him a 
 kindness,’ said Mr. Knox once to me. ‘ It may seem a 
 strange thing to say, but it is true. The greatest and 
 perhaps the only persistent enemy that I ever made was 
 a man to whom I lent three hundred rupees for his 
 marriage expenses. 
 
 ‘At first, when I came to India, I thought that I ought 
 to treat every native as a friend. I soon found that 
 their ideas of the claims of friendship and mine were 
 very different, and that instead of inspiring gratitude 
 and goodwill by my kindness, I only caused disappoint- 
 ment, vexation, and a feeling of injustice. Naturally, I 
 soon learned to exercise reserve and self-restraint, and 
 to show goodwill and warm friendship only to those 
 whom I had proved, and who would not presume on my 
 goodness, and look upon it as a blank cheque for them 
 to fill up for any amount. 
 
 ‘ Those whom I now receive into favour value my 
 regard as a reward of trustworthiness, and as a special 
 
 P 
 
226 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 mark of confidence, while they have learned that, as it 
 has been gained by merit, it can only be retained on the 
 same terms. Others, who wish my favour, and who yet 
 do not enjoy much of its sunshine, have nothing to 
 complain of, because they know that any real or solid 
 benefit I can do them I will not withhold, but that the 
 show of favour, the display of confidence and esteem 
 which constitutes the communion of friendship, are only 
 for those who can win them.’ 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 LAZERUS’S COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE. 
 
 A LTHOUGH among native Christians marriage does 
 ^ not take place so early as among the Hindus, 
 still, those most interested are not allowed to arrange 
 the matter for them.selves. It would not only conflict 
 with native feeling, but would lead to abuse. A young 
 man may make up his mind as to the girl he would like 
 to marry, and girls may have their preferences, but all 
 negotiations must be conducted through parents and 
 guardians ; and as missionaries are in the position of 
 parents to the orphan children under their care, they 
 have to perform the parental duty of providing wives for 
 the young men, and husbands for the girls. 
 
 A dusky down had appeared on Lazerus’s chin, and 
 there was suspicion that he sometimes patronised the 
 barber to shave more than the front of his head. He 
 was forming questionable companionships, and giving 
 his friends anxiety. 
 
 Mr. Knox consulted the pastor, the Scripture-teacher, 
 and myself, and we were all of opinion that Lazerus 
 should marry. 
 
 ‘ You are going to the hills for change in a few weeks,’ 
 
 227 
 
2 28 EVERY-DAY LIEE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 said I to Mr. Knox. ‘ While you are away none of us 
 will be able to control Lazerus, and he is sure to get 
 into mischief. He will perhaps go away and join the 
 Roman Catholics. If he has a wife he will be all right’ 
 
 Mr. Knox called Lazerus to his study, and said to 
 him, 
 
 ‘ I think it is time that you should marry.’ 
 
 Lazerus held down his head and blushed. 
 
 ‘ Have you any objections ?’ 
 
 ‘ No,’ said Lazerus. 
 
 ‘ Is there any girl that you have been thinking of?’ 
 
 ‘ No.’ 
 
 ‘ There are three girls in the orphanage any one of 
 whom will suit you. There is Martha and Jessie and 
 Aubay.’ 
 
 ‘ May I have two or three days to think about it ?’ 
 
 ‘ Certainly ; it is an important matter. When you 
 have made up your mind, come and tell me.’ 
 
 Three days after, Lazerus came again to the study. 
 
 ‘ Have you made up your mind ? Who have you 
 chosen?’ asked Mr. Knox. 
 
 ‘ Martha.’ 
 
 ‘ I will tell Mrs. Knox to speak to her,’ said the 
 missionary. 
 
 When Martha was told of Lazerus’ proposal, she at 
 once said — 
 
 ‘ I sha’n’t have him ; and if I am obliged to take him, 
 I will run away.’ 
 
 ‘ There is no necessity for that,’ said Mrs. Knox. 
 ‘ You will not be compelled to marry any one you do 
 not wish.’ 
 
‘ V£S.’ 
 
 229 
 
 Mr. Knox told me that he was very sorry to tell 
 Lazerus his misfortune, it was so evidently his first 
 love. 
 
 ‘Would you like to have either of the other two?’ 
 asked the missionary, after he had informed the young 
 man of Martha’s refusal. 
 
 Lazerus looked vexed, but he knew the chances of 
 courtship, and his disappointment could not be so great 
 as it would have been if he had courted her in the 
 European way, and made his proposal to her in person. 
 
 In reply to Mr. Knox’s question, he said at once, 
 J essie. 
 
 Jessie was spoken to, and when she was asked if she 
 would have Lazerus for her husband, she hung her head 
 for a minute, and then lifting it, said, ‘ Yes.’ 
 
 Jessie was a dark, bright-eyed, merry girl. She had 
 always a smile or a laugh on her face, and was one of the 
 best singers in the school. It was she who was usually 
 made to start the tune at the singing lesson. 
 
 Preparations were immediately made for the marriage. 
 Cloths for the bride and bridegroom, various simple 
 articles of furniture, such as a grass mat, a broom, a 
 mortar and pestle, a brass drinking vessel, and some 
 earthen pots for cooking with, were bought 
 
 Lazerus had selected the cloth for his bride, and the 
 marriage was to take place within a week, when he came 
 to the study and said to Mr. Knox, 
 
 ‘I don’t want Jessie.’ 
 
 ‘ Why ? what is this ? ’ asked the missionary, look- 
 ing up in a serious manner. ‘ Why don’t you want 
 Jessie ? ’ 
 
230 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 ‘ She can’t sew,’ said Lazerus. 
 
 ‘ This will never do,’ said the missionary ; ‘ you can’t 
 draw back now. You have proposed to Jessie, and she 
 has accepted you. If you reject her now, she will be 
 ruined ; no one will marry her. If you don’t marry 
 Jessie, I must dismiss you from my service. I cannot 
 recognise wickedness like this.’ 
 
 Lazerus went away, and we talked to him, and 
 gradually persuaded him to let the marriage go on. 
 Jessie could sew, but she was not so skilful as some of 
 the other girls. The marriage took place in the mission 
 church. Jessie was decked with flowers, a small blue 
 silk jacket, a white cloth, and borrowed jewels. Lazerus 
 was resplendent in a grand turban, a long white coat, 
 and yellow pointed slippers. 
 
 Jessie pretended to be very unwilling to be married, 
 and kept her face in the opposite direction from her 
 lover, and got as far away from him as possible. 
 
 Instead of putting a ring on his bride’s finger, Lazerus 
 took a small gold locket, attached to a yellow cotton 
 string, out of his pocket, and, with bashful looks, tying 
 it round Jessie’s neck, said, after the minister, ‘ With this 
 tali I thee wed.’ 
 
 x"\s soon as the wedding ceremony was over, and while 
 the missionaries and the native pastor and the young 
 couple were in the vestry, signing the register, the 
 pastor’s son played some lively music on a violin, and a 
 band of young men around him sang with great vigour 
 and cheerfulness. 
 
 All the congregation then formed a procession, and 
 the bride and bridegroom, with the violinist and the 
 
THE WEDDING. 
 
 231 
 
 singers leading, went round the mission compound to 
 the mission house, to present themselves to the mis- 
 sionaries and receive their congratulations. 
 
 Mr. Knox, Mrs. Knox, Miss Philp, and Mr. Smith 
 stood waiting to receive the procession, and when they 
 came, and the young bride and bridegroom stood before 
 them, and the crowd of smiling, sympathetic faces 
 gathered round, Martha perhaps half regretting her 
 refusal, and the orphan lads and girls anticipating the 
 time when they would be in the same position, Mr. 
 Knox made a few simple kindly remarks, which were 
 received with much laughter and satisfaction. 
 
 Mr. Smith, too, tried to say something witty and 
 humorous, but, whatever was the reason, his jokes, to his 
 evident disappointment, missed fire. 
 
 ‘ I don’t know how it is,’ I heard him say afterwards 
 to Mr. Knox, ‘ that, however much I try, I cannot make 
 the people laugh.’ 
 
 ‘ Perhaps,’ replied Mr. Knox, ‘ if you did not try 
 so hard, you would succeed better. I don’t try. I 
 simply say something kindly, and, somehow or other, 
 and often to my astonishment, they usually, on these 
 occasions, burst into laughter at the most simple 
 things. I suppose it’s because they are happy, and 
 perhaps they see more humour in what I say than I 
 can.’ 
 
 A small house with two rooms was given to Lazerus, 
 and there he and Jessie took up their abode. 
 
 On the Monday after their marriage, a week’s pro- 
 visions had to be bought, and as Jessie had no experience 
 in marketing, Lazerus went with her. He put on his 
 
232 EVERY-DAY LIEE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 long white coat, his fine red turban, and his red shoes, 
 and stepped grandly forth. • 
 
 Jessie, a short, round-faced, bright-eyed, happy young 
 wife, wearing her beautiful marriage cloth, and carrying 
 a wide, open-mouthed basket, followed behind. 
 
 In the basket there was a quart bottle, without a 
 cork, for the lamp oil. 
 
 The oil commonly used by the poorer people in 
 India for their small earthenware saucer lamps is 
 castor oil, and when a man feels out of sorts and 
 needing medicine, he takes a pull at the lamp-oil 
 bottle. 
 
 Jessie got her basket three-quarters full of rice. She 
 put in a little earthen pot on the top of the rice a little 
 dirty-looking salt ; she bought also some chilli pods, 
 onions, garlic, and saffron, and placed them on the 
 rice. The bottle was filled with castor oil, and should 
 have been fixed securely, upright, deep in the rice; but 
 as Jessie had not sufficient experience to know this, and 
 Lazerus was too dignified to show her, she simply stood 
 the bottle on the top of the rice, and raised the basket 
 on to her head. Lazerus, after a good deal of higgling 
 over half a farthing, paid the money, and then stepped 
 grandly homewards, Jessie following behind with the 
 basket on her head. 
 
 When they reached home, Lazerus came with tears 
 in his eyes to Mr. Knox, and told him that the bottle 
 of castor oil had upset, and that the oil had poured 
 out among all his rice, and through the basket down 
 over Jessie’s beautiful marriage cloth ! 
 
 Mr. Knox comforted him, and said, ‘ Never mind. 
 
TROUBLES. 
 
 233 
 
 I will pay for the food you have lost, and Jessie 
 will do better next time.’ 
 
 For some time after her marriage Jessie did not 
 behave well. Her life in the orphanage had been so 
 much under authority, so much time allowed for work, 
 so much for lessons, so much for play, that when she 
 got married she thought that she could do just as she 
 pleased, so, instead of attending in the forenoon to 
 cleaning and arranging her little house, and cooking 
 her husband’s food, she wasted her time playing with 
 the horsekeeper’s wife, and idling about. 
 
 When Lazerus went for his food, about one o’clock, 
 and found nothing ready, he would try to look stern, 
 and would say, ‘ I am very hungry ; is the rice not 
 ready ? ’ 
 
 ‘ You can be hungry another time,’ Jessie would 
 reply ; ‘ the rice is not ready yet.’ 
 
 At length Lazerus came to Mr. Knox, and said, 
 ‘ Please, sir, you must beat my wife.’ 
 
 ‘ I can’t do that,’ said Mr. Knox. 
 
 ‘ Well, then, I must send her away,’ said Lazerus. 
 
 ‘ I can see,’ said Mr. Knox, ‘ that she is very trouble- 
 some ; I will speak to her.’ 
 
 Jessie was called, and came with her hair all untidy, 
 her cloth dirty, worn, and torn, and stood before Mr. 
 Knox. Lazerus stood looking at her in a sulky, dis- 
 appointed way. 
 
 Mr. Knox spoke to her kindly, and earnestly assured 
 her of his protection, if she did well and tried to please 
 her husband, and said, ‘ If you continue to give trouble 
 and cause annoyance as you have done, I must reduce 
 
234 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 your husband’s pay. I increased it to enable you both 
 to live comfortably together, but if you don’t try to do 
 your part you must both suffer.’ 
 
 Jessie promised to behave better in future. 
 
 Soon after this a son was born ; and this not only 
 knit Jessie’s heart to her husband, but led her to settle 
 down to her household duties, so that after that* there 
 was peace and goodwill in her house. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 A JOURNEY TO TAN JORE— BALAMBAL’S DECISION- 
 MARRIED LIFE. 
 
 T HAD not heard from my wife since she went to 
 ^ Tanjore. My mother-in-law could not write, and I 
 imagined that, having learned that I had become a 
 Christian, she had forbidden Balambal to send me any 
 message. My wife was now more than fourteen years 
 old, and it must be, I thought, quite time for her to 
 come and live with me. I had now sixteen rupees a 
 month, and a nice house in the mission compound, so 
 that I was quite able to support both my mother-in-law 
 and my wife, if I could only persuade them to come 
 and live with me. 
 
 Leave for a week was readily granted to me, so, 
 putting on my best turban, and taking a brass drinking 
 vessel, a straw mat, and some boiled rice tied in the 
 corner of a handkerchief, and fifteen rupees rolled in my 
 waistcloth, I went to the station. There was a great 
 crowd going to a festival at Tiruputty, so that it was with 
 difficulty that I got a ticket and crushed my way into 
 a carriage. 
 
 With much squeezing and shouting, most of the people 
 got into the carriages. 
 
236 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 Although women and men of different castes were all 
 crowded close together in the carriage, there was no 
 murmuring. All were contented and cheerful. A fat 
 Brahmin was compelled to sit half on the knee of a 
 pariah, and a chuckler (leather-worker) was squeezed 
 close against a holy mendicant, who, with his almost 
 naked body and matted hair, was sitting in haughty 
 silence. The Brahmin and the holy man did not like it ; 
 but what could they do ? There was no time to choose 
 their company, and they would have to wash off the 
 defilement as soon as, and in the best way, they could. 
 
 At many of the stations there was a caste man with 
 water, and when any low caste man wanted a drink he 
 poured it into his joined hands, and so into his mouth. 
 Everywhere there were boys with baskets containing 
 biscuits, bread, fruit, and sweetmeats for sale. 
 
 Arriving at Tanjore, I spent the night at a choultry, and 
 went next morning to call on my mother-in-law, and see my 
 wife. How anxious I became as I approached the street ! 
 
 I walked past the street once or twice before I could 
 summon courage to approach the house where they lived. 
 I saw some women at a well in the street, drawing up 
 the water in their brass vessels by cords, hand over 
 hand. Was Balambal among them ? My heart beat 
 fast. I slowly walked towards the group. She was 
 there, and as soon as she saw me she ran into a house. 
 She never treated me like this before. Why was she 
 so shy ? As I stood outside, my aunt came out, and 
 said, ‘ Come in.’ 
 
 When I was inside the house, she took my hand, and 
 looking sadly, yet kindly, into my face, said : 
 
‘ IF/FE SHOULD GO WITH HUSBAND.’ 237 
 
 ‘ We heard that you had become a Christian. Is 
 it so ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Yes,’ I replied ; ‘but you will not be angry with me 
 for that, aunt. It is a good religion.’ 
 
 ‘ What is the use of my being angry ? What is done 
 cannot be undone.’ 
 
 ‘ Where is Balambal ? ’ I asked. 
 
 My aunt called her, and she came timidly and shyly, 
 and stood behind her mother. What a tall, fine-looking 
 young woman she had grown ! She was more beautiful 
 than I had ever seen her. She did not look at me, 
 but stood with her eyes modestly turned to the 
 ground. 
 
 ‘ I have come to take you both to live with me at 
 Coimbatore,’ I said. ‘ I have a good salary now, and 
 I can make you both very comfortable.’ 
 
 ‘ I am old now,’ said my aunt, ‘ and I could not live 
 among Christians. I do not know their customs, and 
 they would not like mine.’ 
 
 ‘ Balambal will come ? ’ I asked anxiously. 
 
 ‘ She can go if she pleases. She is married to you, 
 and a wife should be with her husband.’ 
 
 Balambal smiled, and hid her face behind her mother’s 
 shoulder. I saw that she would not refuse. 
 
 ‘ Will you go, Balambal ? ’ asked her mother. 
 
 ‘ I do not like to leave you,’ she replied. 
 
 ‘ She will go,’ said her mother. 
 
 When I was alone with Balambal, I took her hand 
 and attempted to draw her to me. She kept her face 
 away from me, but I put my arm round her neck and 
 kissed her. 
 
238 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 ‘ Oh ! ’ she said, ‘ you should not do that’ 
 
 ‘ Why not?’ I asked, with my heart full of love for her. 
 ‘ Are you not my wife ? ’ 
 
 She allowed me to draw her to me, and then leaning 
 on my bosom, she said, ‘ My husband, my own husband!’ 
 
 Full of pride and joy I took my young wife with me 
 to Coimbatore. How pleasant it was to see her look to 
 me as her protector ! to feel that I was now a man, and 
 that I had entered on the joys and responsibilities of 
 life I There seemed nothing left for me to desire. My 
 cup of happiness was full to the brim. 
 
 Balambal lived quietly in her house in the mission 
 compound. She was not a Christian, so she did not 
 court the society of the Christian women ; and being 
 married to a Christian she felt estranged from the women 
 of her own caste, so during the first few months of our 
 married life I was her only companion. We were all in 
 all to each other. Sometimes, it is true, she was sad 
 as she thought of her mother ; and sometimes she was 
 vexed with me unnecessarily,’ and would even speak 
 crossly, and put me out of temper. 
 
 But as time passed we gradually learned to treat 
 each other with more kindness and consideration and 
 when things did not go smoothly or when either was 
 cross and vexed on account of anything, we learned 
 to take as little notice of it as possible, and let the ill- 
 temper pass away of itself, like a fire that goes out when 
 it is not stirred. 
 
 Balambal refused for some time to go to church, but 
 she willingly listened to me reading a chapter of the 
 Bible every night and knelt with me as I prayed, so that 
 
OUT-STATIONS. 
 
 239 
 
 I had good hope that by-and-by she would follow my 
 example and become a Christian. 
 
 Three months after I had brought my wife to live 
 with me, Mr. Knox asked me to accompany him on a 
 preaching tour into his district. He wished to try me 
 in the work of preaching, and see whether it would be 
 possible to train me to be a catechist. 
 
 There are several village churches connected with the 
 mission, some of them as far as fifty miles away from 
 Coimbatore town. Most of the converts in these out- 
 stations were from the pariah class. 
 
 Mr. Knox’s method of evangelising his district was 
 not merely to travel over it as much as possible, and 
 preach in the towns and villages, but to have a catechist 
 and a mission school in as many places as possible. In 
 this way, through the daily preaching of the catechist, and 
 through the regular Scripture teaching in the school, the 
 people are instructed much more thoroughly than they 
 could be by an occasional visit and an open-air address 
 from the missionary. 
 
 The presence of the catechist and the existence of the 
 church give also moral support and courage to all who 
 may be inclined towards Christianity. What attaches 
 every Hindu, and even the lowest pariah, to his caste, is 
 that it is his only protection against a sea of troubles ; 
 it is his nation, his clan, his trades union. Outside his 
 caste, all men are alien to him ; within it alone can he 
 look for sympathy, brotherhood, and protection. He 
 clings to it as a sailor to his ship ; as a soldier, while 
 in an enemy’s country, to his regiment. 
 
 The hardest trial, therefore, that a man, whatever be 
 
240 
 
 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 his social position, has to face in becoming a Christian, is 
 the being made to stand entirely alone, without friends 
 or sympathisers, if not his hand against every one, at 
 least every man’s hand against him. When, however, 
 he sees a Christian community already existing, in 
 joining it he is, in an important sense, but exchanging 
 one caste, one clan or tribe, for another. 
 
 A low caste man, although not unpersecuted, gains 
 much in becoming a Christian ; and he continues to live 
 among his own people, and gradually brings them along 
 with him. Thus, when once Christianity has gained an 
 entrance into a pariah village, it makes steady advances. 
 Every year there are some seeking admission into the 
 Christian community. Many of these catechumens are 
 very ignorant, only a step removed from the lowest 
 savagery ; but they have sense enough to perceive that 
 Christianity is a better religion than their own. 
 Hinduism has ground them down for ages, and if not 
 made them, at least kept them, the degraded wretches 
 that they are. Christianity speaks to them of freedom, 
 of progress ; it offers bright hopes to them, both for this 
 life and for that which is to come. 
 
 There is nothing that so impresses the mind of these 
 low caste people, and so wins their favourable regard for 
 Christianity, as the improvement in manners and 
 appearance and social position which they see in the 
 Christians. When they observe that their neighbours 
 who have become Christians are educated, that they are 
 better clad and better housed than others, they are 
 more easily convinced that the religion that has effected 
 this improvement, is a religion that has come from God. 
 
A AT ACCIDENT. 
 
 241 
 
 Mr. Knox and I started at half-past six next 
 morning, our cart having left the evening before, and 
 we had not gone four miles when Mr. Knox exclaimed, 
 ‘ Is that our cart ? What can they have been doing all 
 night ? ’ 
 
 The cart was moving along at a leisurely pace ; 
 Lazerus and Joshua were walking behind as we drove 
 up. 
 
 ‘ What is this ? ’ shouted Mr. Knox. ‘ Why have you 
 not gone on ? ’ 
 
 ‘ One of the wheels broke, and we had to take it to a 
 blacksmith,’ said Lazerus. 
 
 ‘ I hope none of you got hurt.’ 
 
 ‘ I got my leg bruised a little,’ said Joshua. ‘ I was 
 the only one in the cart’ 
 
 ‘ Come on as fast as you can,’ shouted the missionary, 
 as we drove past 
 
 The village where we were to halt and spend the 
 night was a dreary, deserted-looking place. There was 
 only one little shop : the red mud walls round the back- 
 yards of the houses were in many places partly washed 
 away by the rain and broken by the goats that con- 
 stantly clambered on them. 
 
 The keeper of the choultry obtained a fowl, some rice, 
 milk, and plantains, and about noon I placed Mr. Knox’s 
 breakfast before him with a fresh plantain leaf for him 
 to eat it from. 
 
 We chatted during the meal, until at length Mr. 
 Knox asked me suddenly, as if recollecting himself, 
 ‘ Have you had your food ?’ 
 
 ‘ No,’ I said. 
 
 Q 
 
242 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 ‘Well, go and take it : I ought not to have kept you 
 talking so long.’ 
 
 ‘ I am in a difficulty,’ I said. ‘ I went to the caste 
 choultry, and the keeper abused me and drove me out. 
 
 I told him that I was a caste man, but he would not 
 believe me, because he knows that I am a Christian. I 
 must buy new pots to cook with, and to drink water, 
 because my own brass pot is in the bandy.’ 
 
 ‘ What are you going to do ?’ 
 
 ‘ I must suffer. What can I do ? I can’t take my 
 food where pariahs and others will look at me.’ 
 
 ‘ Give up your caste,’ said Mr. Knox. ‘ It is nothing 
 but a trouble to you. Your friends in Coimbatore who 
 keep caste will not invite you to eat with them ; but you 
 will not lose their society. Your heart will be much 
 lighter after you have broken the miserable bonds of 
 caste.’ 
 
 ‘ I see that I must come to it,’ I replied, ‘ but I 
 won’t do it to-day. I can buy some cakes in the 
 bazaar.’ 
 
 ‘ Why is it that so few of the young men in the Church 
 seek admission to the Lord’s Supper ? There are nearly 
 twice as many women as men who are members,’ Mr. 
 Knox asked me that afternoon. 
 
 ‘ They are afraid of Church discipline,’ I replied. 
 ‘ They are not like Europeans, who have been trained 
 from infancy to live moral lives. Lying and stealing 
 and drinking, and other vices, were not thought very 
 wrong by them while they were heathen ; they were even 
 encouraged to commit these sins, and they cannot change 
 altogether by becoming Christians. Their associations 
 
DIRECT QUESTIONS. 243 
 
 are bad, and it is difficult for them always to resist 
 temptation.’ 
 
 ‘ It is unreasonable, I know,’ said Mr. Knox, ‘ to ex- 
 pect from them as high, upright, and pure a Christian 
 life as from those who have been brought up in a 
 Christian country, who have inherited Christian tradi- 
 tions and sentiments, and who are made to feel by all 
 their associations the wrong and disgrace of such 
 sins as you have mentioned ; but the weaker they are 
 the more they need the strength that a close union with 
 the Saviour and the fellowship of the Church would give 
 them. They are at least much better, however, than 
 those of their own class among the heathen. You are 
 not yet a member of the Church yourself ; how is 
 that ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I am not good enough, sir.’ 
 
 ‘ We are none of us good enough,’ replied Mr. Knox. 
 ‘You have obtained the forgiveness of your sins, have 
 you not ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I am not sure ; how can I tell ? I am trying to do 
 God’s will, and I hope that He will pardon my sins; 
 what more can I say ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I thought that your faith was clearer and more 
 assured than that,’ replied Mr. Knox. ‘ A Christian 
 ought to know that he has passed from death unto life. 
 The Gospel is glad news of great joy, but it will not 
 give us much joy or peace if it leaves us in doubt as to 
 the pardon of our sins. This is the difference between 
 Christianity and every other religion. All false religions 
 leave men to seek pardon and deliverance from sin 
 entirely by their own efforts, — by works of fancied merit. 
 
244 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 In Christianity it is conferred as a free gift on all who 
 trust in Christ’ 
 
 ‘ But can any one be sure that his sins are forgiven ? ’ 
 I asked. 
 
 ‘Of course he can. Those to whom Christ said, “Thy 
 sins are forgiven thee,” did they not know it? We too 
 may know it as surely as they did. “ Believe on the Lord 
 Jesus, and thou shalt be saved!” I know that I believe; 
 am I not bound, then, to think, “I shall be saved?” “He 
 that believeth is not condemned ? ” “ He that believeth 
 on the Son hath everlasting life.” Do you not believe 
 on the Lord Jesus Christ?’ 
 
 ‘Yes I do,’ I replied, ‘He is my Saviour. He died for me.’ 
 ‘Then why not believe that you are “not condemned,” 
 that you “have eternal life,” that you will never perish ?’ 
 ‘ I never saw it like that before,’ I exclaimed ; 
 ‘but if I fall into sin, will Christ forgive every sin I 
 commit?’ 
 
 ‘You must try not to commit sin. If you think that 
 because Christ so freely pardons you, you need not be 
 particular about wrong-doing, then you have no true faith. 
 If, with earnest desire and determination you trust in 
 God for mercy for Christ’s sake, and if you persevere 
 in trying to glorify God by a pure and holy life, what- 
 ever sins, through weakness, or through being surprised 
 by temptation, you may commit, God will forgive. 
 Should you fall into any sin, you should immediately, 
 earnestly repent and trust in Christ anew for pardon.’ 
 
 ‘ I have been trying to do God’s will,’ I said, ‘ but I 
 often fail. I tremble sometimes lest I should fall into 
 some great sin and bring disgrace on my profession. 
 
THE JVA V OF HOLINESS. 245 
 
 You do not know the temptations to which one living 
 among the heathen is exposed.’ 
 
 ‘I wish to speak to you about that too,’ said Mr. Knox. 
 
 ‘ If you try to serve God in your own strength, you will 
 fail. There are two lessons that we have to learn — one 
 is, that we cannot obtain by our efforts the pardon of sin ; 
 we must obtain it as a free gift from God, through faith 
 in Christ. That lesson I hope you have learned. The 
 other is, that we cannot by our own efforts overcome 
 temptation. The power to conquer sin we must obtain 
 by faith in Christ. We come boldly to the throne of 
 grace to obtain two things — mercy, or the pardon of sin, 
 and grace to help us in our time of need. When Peter 
 was walking on the water, he was afraid and began to 
 sink, but when he cried to Christ, the Lord Jesus took 
 him by the hand, and they both walked together on the 
 waves. Peter afterwards denied Christ, because he was 
 too self-confident. Had he looked then also to Christ 
 for help, he would have been made bold as a lion. Be 
 constantly on your guard, and when you are tempted 
 seek assistance at once from Christ. You will not be 
 disappointed. His grace will be sufficient for you.’ 
 
 ‘ All this is new to me,’ I said ; ‘ I never heard these 
 things before.’ 
 
 ‘ You have heard them,’ said Mr. Knox ; ‘ but you did 
 not understand them. Now, will you not commemorate 
 the new light and joy you are receiving to-day by 
 resolving to give up caste ? ’ 
 
 My countenance fell, and I looked troubled. 
 
 ‘ Remember what Christ did for you. He was rejected 
 and despised. He voluntarily sank to the lowest degra- 
 
246 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 dation in consenting to be crucified, for “ Cursed is every 
 one that hangs on a tree.” Your caste is not of great 
 value to you. It is a burden and a snare. It brings you 
 into society that you had better give up, and it casts a 
 slight on your fellow-Christians, many of whom you 
 know and acknowledge to be as good as yourself ; but I 
 won’t press the matter further. I have often spoken to 
 you about this.’ 
 
 ‘ I cannot make up my mind all at once,’ I replied ; 
 
 ‘ I am not so attached to my caste as I used to be. I 
 have been thinking of abandoning it.’ 
 
 ‘ I am delighted to hear it ; but I must not press the 
 matter further to-day. I shall let it grow in your mind, 
 and I have no doubt you will come round to see that 
 you ought to give it up altogether.’ 
 
 I experienced so much trouble and annoyance during 
 the tour from my endeavour to keep caste, and my 
 exclusiveness gave so great offence to the catechists and 
 village Christians whom we visited, that I finally gave 
 up my caste altogether, and lived and ate as the others 
 did. What would Balambal say? I hoped the best. 
 She had given up so much for me that I trusted she 
 would consent to this also — that when she knew that 
 the thing was done, she would think it could not be 
 helped, and would reconcile her mind to it. She had so 
 completely forsaken her own caste by marrying me 
 and coming to live in the mission compound, that its 
 entire renunciation would give her very little incon- 
 venience. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 UNSATISFACTORY CONVERTS— A SERPENT— A RIVER 
 FESTIVAL. 
 
 O UR first Sabbath was spent at a half-deserted town 
 called Perunduray. Standing at the junction of 
 four roads on the highway between Madras and Coim- 
 batore, this town was formerly, when all travelling had 
 to be done either on foot or in carts or palanquins, a 
 place of some little importance, and its bungalow for 
 travellers, now seldom occupied, was the scene of constant 
 stir and bustle. The railway, passing four miles off, has 
 destroyed the life of the town, and left it, like a totter- 
 ing old man or a stream in summer, existing, but no 
 more. The Christians from two villages, one eight, the 
 other six miles distant, in opposite directions, had been 
 asked to meet at the bungalow for religious service, 
 and for the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper. 
 
 They were to come at ten in the forenoon. At about 
 eleven Mr. Knox called Aaron the Catechist, and asked 
 whether the people had come. Aaron is a short man 
 with a massive face and largish no.se. His head and 
 face he gets shaved once a week, so that on Sundays he 
 is clean and smooth, and no hair is to be seen except 
 
 247 ' 
 
248 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 his eyebrows. Towards the end of the week his head 
 and cheeks become covered with a rough white stubble 
 His voice is usually husky, so that he has frequently to 
 clear his throat, and he has a habit, when addressed, oi 
 blowing his nose into a large red handkerchief before 
 answering. His manner to his superior is exceedingly 
 deferential. 
 
 ‘ The people from Patakarampolium have come, sir,’ 
 he said ; ‘ but only two have come from Congicoil,’ 
 ‘•How is that? Are they not coming? Has the 
 reader come ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Yes, sir. He and Samuel.’ 
 
 ‘ The reader says that the people won’t come to-day,’ 
 I said. ‘ They are going to have a marriage.’ 
 
 ‘ They are not going to have a marriage to-day, are 
 they ? Where is the reader ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I am here,’ said the reader. He had been appointed 
 three months previously to carry on a school and 
 conduct service in the pariah village of Congicoil. He 
 was allowed the fees of the school, and a small salary in 
 addition. 
 
 ‘ Why are the people not coming? ’ asked Mr. Knox. 
 
 ‘ There is to be a marriage to-morrow.’ 
 
 ‘ Among the Christians ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Yes, sir.’ 
 
 ‘ Who is to marry them ? I have not been told about 
 it. Have they asked one of the pastors to perform the 
 ceremony ? ’ 
 
 ‘No, sir; they are going to do it in the heathen 
 fashion.’ 
 
 ‘ What ! ’ 
 
DISCIPLINE. 
 
 249 
 
 ‘Yes, sir. Most of the bride’s relatives are heathen ; 
 and they won’t allow her to get married to the young 
 man unless some of their ceremonies are performed.’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, this is very bad,’ said Mr. Knox. ‘ What is the 
 use of their being Christians if they continue their former 
 heathen practices ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes, sir; I told them that. I told them that you 
 would be very angry, but they would not heed my 
 words.’ 
 
 ‘Will there be any use in my going to their village 
 to-morrow?’ Mr. Knox asked, turning to Aaron. 
 
 ‘ No, sir, I think not. If you go the people will not 
 come to meet you. Many will be in their fields, and the 
 others will not come out of their houses.’ 
 
 ‘ If they persist in having the marriage in the way 
 that you say, I will close the school, and take you away 
 from their village,’ said Mr. Knox to the reader. 
 
 ‘ I will tell them, sir, and do what I can to persuade 
 them to put off the marriage, and have it celebrated 
 properly ; but I don’t think I shall succeed.’ 
 
 ‘ Well, call in those who have come, and let us go on 
 with the service.’ 
 
 Mats were spread on the floor, and a Bible and hymn- 
 book, with the bread and wine, were placed on the table, 
 which was covered with a clean white tablecloth. The 
 people came in and sat on the mats, the men on one 
 side and the women on the other. 
 
 After the service had commenced, a little dog that 
 was tied in a side room, provoked by the singing, began 
 to whine and bark. Mr. Knox rose, untied the dog, and 
 took it to a door at the back of the side room to let it 
 
250 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 out. I heard a few strokes on the ground with a cane, 
 and then Mr. Knox, looking, I thought, a little paler than 
 usual, returned and continued the service. After all was 
 over, Lazcrus went into the side room, and then came 
 running out shouting, ‘ A serpent, a serpent ! ’ I went 
 in, and there a venomous snake was lying dead on the 
 ground. 
 
 ‘ Did you kill it, sir?’ I asked, looking at Mr. Knox. 
 
 ‘ Yes. There is no handle on the door, so I put my 
 hand on the top, and as I pulled the door open the snake 
 fell down.’ 
 
 ‘ It did not bite you ? ’ 
 
 ‘ No, but it was a narrow escape. It fell down from 
 the very place where my hand was, and struck against 
 me as it fell. I killed it, as you see, with the cane that I 
 always have in my bedroom for such a purpose.’ 
 
 The last place that we visited on the tour was Bhowany, 
 a sacred town on the junction of two rivers, the Covery 
 and Bhowany. The triangle of land where the two 
 rivers unite is covered with temples. 
 
 The scenery is exceedingly beautiful. The two broad 
 rivers are dotted and broken by picturesque rocks and 
 small tree-clad islands. Tall sugar-loaf mountains, each 
 with a temple on its summit, rise abruptly from the 
 plain, which is rich with tall feathery palms, broad leafy 
 tamarind, margossa, and mango trees, and bright with 
 emerald green paddy fields. Beautiful parrots and 
 wild pigeons flit across the river and among the trees, 
 and thousands of other birds fly high overhead. The 
 climate is moist and relaxing, and a very little exertion 
 causes fatigue, 
 
A RIVER FESTIVAL. 
 
 25 
 
 We were fortunate in being present during the cele- 
 bration of one of the sacred feasts. Crowds of people 
 of all ages and of both sexes, all in bright new clothing, 
 thronged the steps along the banks, and chiefly at the 
 most sacred place, where the two rivers unite and mingle 
 their sacred waters. 
 
 Bathers, with their clothes on, plunged and splashed 
 wherever they could find standing room, and the temple 
 Brahmins walked among the crowds viewing the scene. 
 
 Beggars, clad as holy men, with yellow cloths, their 
 brow, chest, and arms smeared with ashes, their hair 
 and beard long and matted, their neck and arms adorned 
 with beads, were beating cymbals, blowing conch shells, 
 and forcing their way everywhere, demanding alms. 
 
 Most of the people were casting offerings of fruit, 
 flowers, and money into the river, and a number of 
 wretched youths were diving, struggling, and groping in 
 the mud for the copper coins that were thrown to the 
 river goddess. No one rebuked or hindered them, for 
 no one cared what became of the offerings after the 
 water had received them. 
 
 Parents brought their children, and plunged the head 
 of their child and a piece of money beneath the surface 
 at the same time. Two or three divers stood ready to 
 snatch the coin that each father dropped before it could 
 reach the bottom. 
 
 One group that we saw, evidently consisting of all 
 the members of a family, performed an elaborate cere- 
 mony. On one of the granite steps they put a little of 
 the river sand to represent the goddess, and arrayed in 
 front of it offerings of jewels, money, flowers, fruits, and 
 
252 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 small lighted lamps, consisting of a wick fixed in a 
 saucer of dough. They broke cocoanuts in halves, and 
 presented them to the goddess. Then each member of 
 the party stood, one by one, in front of the idol, and 
 raised their folded hands in worship. 
 
 Mr. Knox approached the group, the people respect- 
 fully making way for him, and, after looking at the 
 worship for a little while, asked one of the elderly men 
 of the party ‘ What god are you worshipping ? ’ 
 
 ‘ The goddess Bhowany,’ replied the man. 
 
 ‘ Where is she ? ’ 
 
 ‘ There,’ replied the man, pointing to the river, ‘ She 
 is flowing past.’ 
 
 A younger man, standing a little aloof from the 
 others, said in English, ‘ We know that all this is 
 useless, that there is only one true God.’ 
 
 ‘ I am glad that you have these enlightened views,’ 
 said the missionary. ‘ Are you a native of this place ? ’ 
 ‘ No ; my native place is Salem.’ 
 
 ‘ For what purpose have you come to Bhowany? ’ 
 
 ‘ For the festival.’ 
 
 ‘Have you, with all your enlightenment, actually come 
 from a distance to perform these useless ceremonies ? ’ 
 asked Mr. Knox, in astonishment. 
 
 ‘ What can I do ? ’ replied the young man. ‘ I must 
 follow the custom. According to the proverb, if one 
 lives in a country where all go naked, one must do the 
 same ; if nine men do one thing, the tenth cannot hold 
 back.’ 
 
 ‘ If nine men eat poison, must the tenth eat it also?’ 
 Mr. Knox asked. 
 
THE MISSIONARY DISCUSSED. 
 
 253 
 
 ‘ These ceremonies are all useless, except for our 
 benefit. In this way we get our living,’ said one of the 
 beggars. 
 
 ‘ Yes,’ said Mr. Knox, and quoted a verse from a 
 Hindu poet ridiculing the idea that the water of a 
 river can wash away sins. 
 
 The people listened, not displeased, but some of the 
 lazy, ignorant temple Brahmins looked on scowling. 
 
 ‘ What does the missionary here ? curse him ! ’ I 
 heard one say ; ‘ he would like to prevent the people 
 coming, I suppose, and rob us of our gains. I wish I 
 could put a spoke in his wheel’ 
 
 ‘ It’s not so easy,’ said another; ‘we can’t do much, 
 except perhaps to get some low fellow to insult him and 
 raise a laugh.’ 
 
 ‘ Couldn’t we draw him into an argument, and put him 
 to shame ? ’ suggested a third. 
 
 ‘ I fear the shame might fall on us,’ replied the first. 
 
 ‘ Some of the ablest men in the town called on him 
 yesterday. He received them with perfect politeness, 
 but sent them away quiet and thoughtful. I hear that 
 they have had enough of him, and don’t intend to repeat 
 their visit.’ 
 
 ‘ Who were they ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Vecraswamey, the pleader, and Krishnaras, the late 
 judge of the Moonsif Court.’ 
 
 ‘ Ah ! then we had better keep away from him.’ 
 
 ‘ Besides,’ said the other, ‘ some of the learned and 
 respectable people in the town seem somewhat in 
 favour of his teaching. They say that he teaches 
 good morals and reasonable doctrines, and carefully 
 
254 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 avoids insulting the Hindu religion. What can vve 
 do?’ 
 
 ‘ Ah yes, what can we do?’ asked the others. ‘ We’d 
 better let them alone.’ 
 
 On my return Balambal received me kindly and 
 fondly. It was our first separation since she had come 
 to live with me, and we had both felt the absence 
 long, and were glad to be together again. How much 
 pleasanter it was for me to be welcomed by a loving 
 wife, busying herself about my comfort, and showing by 
 every word and look that there was one in the world 
 to whom my existence was necessary. How much 
 pleasanter this than to return to the tender mercies of 
 my stepmother, or to an empty house! 
 
 Absence had made our hearts grow fonder. I never 
 felt more in love with my good little wife, and she looked 
 brighter and happier than ever she had done before. 
 Taking her on my knee, and putting my arm round her 
 waist, I said, ‘ Balambal, do you love me very much ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes, I love you. Why do you ask me that ? ’ 
 
 ‘You are very glad that you have come to stay with 
 me ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Yes ; why should I not be glad ? You are very kind 
 to me ; and although I was afraid to come and live 
 among Christians, I have lost all that feeling. Every 
 one has been very kind to me while you were away. 
 Mrs. Knox is a very good lady. She came often to see 
 me, and she called me often over to the bungalow to talk 
 with her.’ 
 
 ‘ You would not like to leave me now ? ’ 
 
 ‘ No ; but why are you asking those questions?’ she 
 
WIFELY DEVOTION. 
 
 255 
 
 said, taking her head from my shoulder, and looking 
 inquiringly into my face. 
 
 ‘ I wish to tell you something, which I hope will not 
 make you angry.’ 
 
 ‘ What is it ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I have broken my caste.’ 
 
 She did not move from her position. 
 
 ‘ I suffered very much in travelling among the 
 Christians by trying to keep caste, and Mr. Knox 
 wished me very much to break it, so I at last agreed. 
 I see now that it is not right for a Christian to keep 
 caste, for all men are brethren. God has made of one 
 blood all the nations on earth. What do you say, 
 Balambal ? Are you angry ? ’ 
 
 ‘No, I am not angry, but I wish you had told me 
 before you did it’ 
 
 ‘ I should have done so if I had been here, but I 
 thought it was better not to give you the trouble of 
 thinking about it and deciding.’ 
 
 ‘ When I came to live with you,’ said Balambal, ‘ I 
 gave up everything for you. You are my husband — 
 your caste is mine.’ 
 
 ‘ And will you become a Christian too ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘ I have been thinking much about it. 
 Mrs. Knox and Miss Philp have been talking to me, 
 and I have been almost persuaded. I know that there 
 is only one God, and I believe in Jesus Christ Now 
 that you have broken caste, why should I hesitate to 
 be baptised ? ’ 
 
 ‘This is the best news I have heard in my life!’ I 
 exclaimed ; ‘ I must go and tell Mr. Knox.’ 
 
256 EVERY-DAY LIFE IN SOUTH INDIA. 
 
 ‘ No,’ said Balambal, ‘ you are tired now, and your rice 
 is ready ; you can tell him another time and she tripped 
 into the other room to spread my mat and serve my 
 curry and rice. 
 
 My wife was baptised and I was admitted to the 
 Lord’s Supper on the same day. 
 
 Mr. Knox, and indeed all the people in the church, 
 seemed to share my joy with me. Mr. Smith congratu- 
 lated me heartily on my change of opinion regarding 
 caste, and invited me to take tea with him next day. 
 
 Not long after Mr. Knox raised me to the position of 
 catechist. 
 
 My mother-in-law came once to see us, and was 
 pleased to find us so comfortable and happy, but she 
 refused to live with us. She returned to Tanjore after 
 waiting three days. My stepmother I never see. She 
 was, I was told, glad that I had become a Christian, 
 because by so doing I lost my share of my father’s 
 property. 
 
 Meenatchy, I heard, forsaken in the famine by her 
 husband, wandered to Caroor, where she was received by 
 the kind Wesleyan missionary there, in whose orphanage 
 she is now employed as cook-woman. 
 
 Miss Philp married a police superintendent, and went 
 to live at Salem. 
 
 Mr. Knox is preparing to leave for England on 
 furlough. I am sorry to lose, even for so short a time, 
 so true and kind a friend. 
 
 I have never regretted becoming a Christian, and 
 Balambal is not sorry that she came to live with me. 
 
 Pardon Sons, Printers, IVine Office Court, Fleet Street, London, F..C. 
 
Date.,J)ue 
 
Princeton Theological Seminary-Speer b ary 
 
 2 01040 9748