OUR HOME IN THE WILDERNESS. Recollections of North Tinnevelly. BY THE REV. R. R. MEADOWS. CHAPTER II. "The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them, and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose."-Isa. xxxv. 1. HE place we lived in was a wilderness, physically and morally. It was as wild and dreary as could well be imagined. The spot we fixed upon to build our house had in one corner a solitary thorn tree, which, however, soon died, and at the opposite corner a tree of another sort, and a few cactus plants. As far as the eye could reach, to the east and west, scarcely another tree or shrub could be seen. As I have watched the rising sun, I have noticed that the only shadow cast upon the plain was that of some traveller as he crossed the sun's line. On the north side there was indeed a clump of tamarind trees, about ten in number, wide-spreading, and green in the winter, but losing their leaves in the hot summer, and affording scarcely any shade. Of cultivation there was none. There were fields belonging to different owners, but it seemed as if they had not been ploughed or sown for a century; and not being divided by hedges, they presented one vast plain of red parched land, without a blade of green grass to relieve the eye. It was about a mile from our town, a somewhat large place, of 10,000 inhabitants, and within distances of one, two, and three miles from small villages, more or less prettily embedded in trees; but such wretched hovels were the so-called houses, as scarcely to deserve the name of human habitations. The houses both in the town and in the villages were, with few exceptions, built of mud; the colour of the earth from which the walls had been formed, black if the earth were black, red if the earth happened to be red. If they were ever whitewashed outside, they never were inside. They had no windows, and were thatched with straw. The appearance of one of these villages is that of careless neglect, and of total indifference to neatness and order. If a house is deserted, it either goes to ruin through the ravages of white ants, which will eat through the rafter-sticks in no time, or the roof is taken off, and the materials applied to some other purpose. The mud walls being allowed to stand, become, from year to year, washed and worn by the rain, till they form a rude and shapeless mound. The interior of a house is as comfortless as its exterior is uninviting. Built in the form of a square, like four verandahs facing a court-yard (though verandah and courtyard are too high-sounding words for such places), it is used as the common habitation both for the family and the live stock. The cows occupy one side, the sheep are tied in another; the fowls have the general liberty of going everywhere and of defiling every spot. Then in the yard there are unsightly round mud bins, thatched over, to stow away the year's supply of grain. If you venture into that part which they emphatically call the house, you will stand a great chance of being stifled, for there the cooking is carried on, on the floor, and there is no chimney or other outlet for the smoke; it has to creep through the thatched roof as best it can; and the village in the evening, when the cooking is going on, presents to an unpractised eye the appearance of being on fire, smoke coming out of the whole roof of all the houses. When your eyes have become accustomed to the partial darkness and the blinding smoke, you will discover in one corner black earthen pots of different sizes heaped up one upon another. These are the cooking utensils, or they are filled with the different ingredients necessary to make the unvarying curry, that is, rice, tamarind, turmeric, coriander seed, fenugreek, onions, &c. You will also find a ladle or two made out of the shell of the cocoa-nut, and one or two black iron spoons, required for the oil used either for the lamp or for medicine. The lamp itself is worth describing. It is a small brass or earthen one, broad at the back, and coming to a point where the wick lies. It is seldom cleaned, neither is the wooden stand on which it rests; and from the habit of using a lump of soft mud, to give the necessary inclination for the oil to run down towards the wick, and the overflow falling down drop by drop upon the stand, the imagination can well picture what it must look like. It i Suspended from the roof is the oil-pot, and across the beams are placed the fishing-net, the spinning-wheel, the men's and women's clothes, a few spare rafters, and the firewood for the next month's consumption. The bed-where does it stand? is only a mat, so it is rolled up and placed in a corner, or if it is a bedstead they sleep on, it has been brought into the courtyard for the double purpose of making room and of being scorched in the hot sun, or it has been carried to the neighbouring pond to be immersed for a few hours. I ought to add that in these country towns and villages sanitation is neither understood nor practised. Our town had deep gutters each side of the street, but they were not built with reference to the slope of the ground, and were not kept free from straw and other refuse. Water, therefore, could not pass along, and the drains from the houses all emptied into them. How the people escaped cholera or typhoid fever I cannot understand. I was always speaking to them about it. Over and over again have I got the Government officials to call them together, and persuade them to subscribe to some town sanitation fund. For one year only would they subscribe, and that almost under compulsion. We had carts and sweepers daily in the streets, and things were certainly improving; but when the second year came for subscribing they held back. We were forty miles from our doctor, and further still from our baker. Thankful we are that this did not make us anxious; and when urgent need of the doctor was felt, we either sent for him or went to him. Our experiences of such times will form a part of the following narrative. part of the following narrative. Our baking troubles, though seemingly great, were rather a subject for amusement than anything else. We had to send a man with an empty basket to the distant towns of Madura or Palamcottah. If the weather was fair, and the man active, three or four days would see him return with his precious burden; but often the bread was hardened by the hot sun, or in the rainy season grown mouldy from the damp. Once we were in great straits. The person we had engaged did not present himself, and the only substitute we could find was a decrepit old man. He undertook to take the empty basket to the house of a Native clergyman twentythree miles on the road, where another man was to be engaged to carry it on. This latter had received all instructions to bring back the bread and other things, but he set down his basket at the appointed place, and returned without it. A special messenger had to be sent sixty miles to bring it to us. AN EYE LOST AND AN EYE SAVED. HE Rev. W. Hooper, Principal of the Lahore Divinity College, writes: In February, 1878, we introduced badminton among the students, and they at once took to it eagerly. They then petitioned to be allowed to play cricket, and played it with great interest until late in May, when Albert, who had lost the sight of one eye for many years, was struck by the cricket-ball in that eye. The eye had to be removed; and then was seen how wonderfully God fulfils His mercy towards them that fear Him. It was discovered that had the bad eye not been removed, the sight of the other also, which had already begun to fail, would soon have been lost. In that case Albert would have been unfitted for evan gelistic work, whereas now there is every hope of his being long spared in health and strength. This incident rather frightened the students of cricket; but still the bodily exercise has no doubt contributed not a little to the general healthfulness for which we have to thank God. LETTERS TO MY PARISH FROM SANTALIA. II-A Confirmation at Taljhari. TALJHARI, May 6th, 1878. T is so very lately that some of you were confirmed, or have been interested in the Confirmation of others, that as the Confirmation here took place only a little more than a week ago, I feel as if I could not do better than give you some account of it. For two or three days previously a few people kept dropping into Taljhari every day from the more distant villages, and we had to find accommodation for them, and there was rice to buy, and the many other things necessary for the feast which the Bishop had kindly promised he would give; but happily the cares about such things did not fall upon me; I had plenty of willing helpers, who arranged all these things much better than I could have done, and I was able to give myself to the preparation and examination of candidates; indeed, for the last day I found this very hard work, for as some of the people came from distant villages where their preparation had been almost entirely in the hands of catechists, I had to spend a long time in their examination. Most of them answered very well. Some of them, however, answered so badly that I refused to present them to the Bishop. The night before the Confirmation I felt tired out with talking and instructing all day, but the Bishop and his chaplain came by the mail train at half-past one in the morning, so I had to get up to go and meet them, and then went to bed again at three to lie tossing about until five, when I got up to see after all the many arrangements that had to be made. After going up to the church, to see that all was arranged properly, I came down again to give the Bishop a lesson in his part of the service, and teach him how to repeat the necessary words. At half-past seven all was ready, and I took the Bishop and his chaplain across to the school. We had a short prayer with the candidates in the school-room, and then, headed by some of the clergy, and followed by the Bishop and myself, the people wound up the hill to the church, walking two by two. Really it was a very pretty sight, for the situation of the church is most lovely, on the top of the hill among some fine trees. We entered by the west door, the people singing in Santali, "Onward, Christian Soldiers "; and the singing inside of those who were leading sounded so sweet to us who brought up the rear outside. The church was very prettily decorated with green leaves, and the enormous and exquisitely beautiful flowers of the pink water lily. I had to read the greater part of the service, owing to the Bishop's want of acquaintance with Santali; and I had to translate the two addresses which he gave to the people. The Bishop sat just inside the chancel-just above the two steps at the entrance of the chancel-and the candidates came up and knelt before him two by two, and he repeated the words over them. I must say that this was a much more impressive way than the passing quickly down a long row of candidates, laying the hands for a mere second on the head of each. There were 120 confirmed-almost all of them quite grown-up men and women-only very few below sixteen years of age. After the Confirmation we at once had the Lord's Supper, and certainly it seemed to me most appropriate. About 225 partook of it, and it was striking to see how many more men there were than women. I wish there were something more like a just proportion between the two sexes in the number of communicants at Horton. Everything went off so quietly and decorously; there was none of the noise and unseemly staring about which I have seen at Confirmations in England. At eleven o'clock we sat down to breakfast-about fourteen, for I had asked a few of the English people from Rajmahal to come over, and I am glad they did come, for they were greatly interested in what they saw. Really often English people in India know nothing of the mission work that is being carried on almost at their doors. After breakfast we had our annual meeting with the chief people of the different villages, one, two, or three being chosen as representatives by the village people, the number ranging according to the size of the village. The Bishop was present and was very greatly interested; we had some very interesting and warm discussions, principally about the matter of marriage dowries. The Santals have been accustomed to sell their daughters in marriage, and the custom is a very difficult one to uproot. All the more enlightened and better Christians are opposed to the old custom, but some of the less enlightened, and especially those who have a large number of daughters, want to retain the custom in some measure; only they would make it nominally a matter of presents to the girl's parents, and not of bargaining about the price of her. The tone of the discussion was very good; and it was very pleasant to hear them speaking out and not concealing their feelings either one way or the other. Then there was a little discussion about the age at which marriage was to be permitted; and though the heathen Santals have begun the Hindu fashion of marriages of children, the Christians determined that no girl was to be married before sixteen, and no young man before eighteen years of age; and you must recollect that in this warm climate a girl of sixteen is as much a woman as one of twenty in England. So, proportionately, are the young men. Then we had a little talk about voluntary and unpaid preaching; and after two hours' sitting, or rather more, we broke up. The next thing was to go out in front of the Mission House and see the sports of the people. First of all they ran races and jumped, much as we do in England, and your vicar was foolish enough to run a race with a Santal about the same age as himself. But when they followed with their national games-a sort of sword dance, and then something like what the old English fighting with quarterstaves must have been; and most wonderful exhibitions in the way of rolling over one another like living wheels, and a dozen other apparently impossible sorts of contortions-we began to feel how very far away from England we were, and how very different the people were to ourselves. It was very pleasant to see the people so happily and so innocently enjoying themselves, and it was such a bright day, and all was done in so much spirit, and yet in so much kindness, that it was an unmixed delight. Then just before sunset we had a short, but very sweet, service in church; and when it was dark, fires were lighted here and there on the grass, and by their light the people, sitting in long rows, ate their dinner, which the Bishop had provided. It was a striking sight to see hundreds by fire-light, sitting with their plates made of leaves heaped up with rice, their leaf-cups full of meat. Then at last the day was concluded with our sitting out in the starlight until nearly eleven-the boys and girls singing to us, and one of my preachers playing on a sort of native guitar. And so all came to an end-the Bishop leaving us again in the middle of the night, with a few kind words to your fatigued but happy friend and pastor. THE LATE LIEUT. SMITH. FEW friends of the late Lieut. G. Shergold Smith have put up a memorial tablet in the village church of Escot, Devon, with the following inscription. It is noteworthy that in this same parish, at the junction of three roads, stands a monument to Bishop Patteson, who had also resided in the neighbourhood. IN MEMORY OF GEORGE SHERGOLD SMITH, LIEUT., R.N., After fourteen years honorably spent in the service of his country, ending with the Ashantee War, he obeyed a yet higher call, and gave himself wholly to the cause of Christ. Appointed Leader of the Expedition sent out by the Church Missionary Society to Central Africa, he faithfully performed his trust, launched the FIRST MISSIONARY VESSEL on the waters of the Victoria Nyanza, and delivered to King Mtesa in Uganda the message of peace and goodwill in the glorious Gospel of Jesus Christ. But his work was well nigh over, and God was about to take him to Himself. Having recrossed the Lake to bring up fresh supplies, he landed at Ukeréwé, and there, together with his fellow-labourer Thomas O'Neill, he died by violence at the hands of those he had given up all to bless." "What things were gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ." A GOOD SUGGESTION FOR A MISSIONARY BOX. FEW Sundays ago I was present at the tea-table of a Christian friend. Just before the meal commenced, the head of the family said, "Now for the Articles;" and then, one after another, the mother, children, and guests who were present, said in a clear voice the appointed portion. For that day the elders had learnt the seventh Article, which is fairly long, and the youngest child (who was only six, and very ambitious to hold his own with the rest) repeated the fourth. As each finished the lesson, a penny was dropped into the Jews' Box, which stood upon the table, and the meal proceeded. Of course the sixpence, less or more, thus put in each Sunday, is no great sum, but friends who approve When the Articles of the plan might substitute coins of a higher value. had been gone through, say in a year-for some of the longer ones should be divided-another course of repetition (such as choice hymns) could be taken up. As the friend I visited put the Jews' Box into a prominent place one year, probably he will put the Church Missionary Box forward another. The benefit arising from all the family making themselves thoroughly acquainted with the Articles of our Church need B. not be enlarged upon. to what were we going? a long burning ride of some 300 miles, on untried steeds, the road unsettled, and the memory of several robberies within a week or two. All manner of thoughts as to the difficulties of the way and how best to meet them flashed through my mind, but I felt that I could of myself do nothing but commit my way unto the Lord. On the morning of the 25th we got up early to finish packing and make our final preparations. At prayers I felt heavy and dull, and afterwards on trying to pack I felt it to be impossible, and I was obliged to lie down utterly prostrate. My head begun to ache and burn, and then I got the clue to what it was a first attack of fever. I was very ill all the morning, but at three o'clock was a little better, and made up my mind to go on at any cost, as I felt sure, if I stayed, I should get worse. So making a great effort -and I can assure you it was hard work -I managed to dress with some help. They were all most kind to me, and wanted to wait a day or two, but I thought it better not. Alladin Pasha and Ali Bey and Captain Colding came to see me, and were most kind in their inquiries. Captain Colding had invited us all to tea on board the Chloe before starting, and with some difficulty they got me on board. It was rather a sad tea as we took leave of poor Hall, who was going home in the Chloe next morning. Captain Colding tried to cheer us all up, and I think he half succeeded at last, and made no end of jokes, as we saw our camels loading in the Custom House yard. A boat came off from the Pasha to say that all was ready for the start, and we saw our long line of forty camels filing through the gate, so wishing God speed to Hall, we went on shore. We went to say good-bye and to thank the Pasha for all his kindness to us; he gave us coffee and cigarettes as usual, and told us that he had ordered donkeys to take us to our first halting-place, a few miles out of Suakim. This was very good of him, as I was almost unable to mount a camel. At 6.30, as the sun was setting, we started, all wishing us a pleasant journey, and the soldiers presenting arms as we passed through the gate. Crowds of Arabs, men, and boys followed us out of the town. A brisk trot soon brought us over the bridge, through the Arab town and out into the Desert, and to a large tree under which we were to spend the night. A fire had been lit, and I lay down at once; I could hold up no longer. As I lay half-conscious on my "augaril" [see next page], I thought I had never seen such a curious sight. The camels were stalking about in the starlight like great spectres, and the black men were gliding about in the fire light; however, soon all was quiet, and I fell into a deep sleep. The dreams I had I can never describe, they were most unearthly. June 26.-At half-past five coffee was brought to us, and we prepared for a start. The noise was confusing, but I felt better. A present of four sheep came from the Pasha to keep us on our way. At 6.30 all was ready and I was helped on to my camel; a nice beast, and which has proved to be a good one. I found the mounting not so difficult as I had been led to suppose, and we were soon on our way, my camel being led in front, the others tied one after the other by their tails. Suakim looks very pretty from the Desert, as from the sea, and we saw the Chloe steaming out of the harbour, and did not lose sight of her for a long time. We rode for five hours, at about three miles an hour, in a northerly direction to Handob, the first station. The camels move at a swinging pace, the rider's body swaying to and fro about forty times a minute, which accounts for the back-ache one soon gets. The camels move the legs on the same side together. There is a nice well at Handob, and flocks of sheep, goats, and camels were being watered as we passed the well, and I could then better understand Jacob's driving away the herdsmen and watering the flocks for Rachel. Indeed, each day some new light on the customs in the Bible narrative dawns upon me. The station at Handob I will describe, as whenever I mention stopping at a hut, it will be of the same sort. The huts are made of poles, over which mats are sewn. The only drawback is that the sun shines through them at times. There is a verandah in front, which is often the coolest place, unless the wind blows very hot. The hut is surrounded by a ring fence to keep off wild animals; the door of the fence is formed generally by two branches which are replaced after the traveller departs. The wells are generally some distance from the huts, and the camels have to be taken to water, and it is then that they often bolt with their drivers, or rather the drivers with them, and leave the poor traveller alone, or with too few camels to continue his journey. The fires are made as follows: three stones are taken and placed in a triangle, and then the ends of three branches are lit, and pushed on as they burn up; and often on the road you see the three stones and a few ashes-the only remnants of an Arab encampment. I was thankful for the rest, as I was very shaky, and the quinine had made my head ache very much. Some good soup made of doves which Litchfield kindly shot for me, and a good sleep, did me much good. While half asleep our head kavass (soldier) came with an abscess on his foot, which I opened. This and a little ointment I have given him have made him most attentive; in fact, all the men have a fancy for "Hakim Pasha," as they call me [hakim means doctor], and a good strong pill now and then keeps them all very civil, which is a good thing, as if you have careless, sullen men with you it makes the journey very much harder. Little things go a long way with Arabs, and if you are kind and strict you get on well enough. I will now descibe our men. First, then, our kavass and three soldiers given us to take care of us. They provide their own weapons, horses, or camels, and receive certain privileges and pay from Government. Our head kavass is a short, fiery little fellow, very dark, large moustache, bright eyes, turban, embroidered waistcoat, and white coat and trousers. He carries a whip made of hippopotamus hide, and uses it, too, sometimes. The first day he cut a man over the head with it, laying open his cheek. It was dressed with coffee grounds, and well in four days. His arms consist of a pair of old, long flint-lock pistols, for which he has just three charges of powder. On the whole he is a capital fellow, and looks after us well; if one of us goes ahead for a walk, either he or the sheikh trots after us on his camel to see that we are safe. He smokes cigarettes continually. The other three soldiers have long French guns, knives, and look very warlike; their guns are slung behind the saddles. They ride with our goods, looking after them; this leaves us free to go on a little faster. The camel men are tall, well-built, handsome fellows; good features, high foreheads, and pearly-white teeth; they are always chewing some kind of stick, which gives the peculiar whiteness to the teeth. The dress is simple, consisting only of a waist cloth of white linen, wound round and draped neatly enough. One man has the end of a piece of stuff with the maker's stamp and "British manufacture" on it; of this he is very proud, and displays it to the best advantage, of course not knowing what it is. Each man carries a knife, shield of hippopotamus hide, and spear, and curved stick, which he carries with the curve up in a very jaunty manner; it is useful for defence, killing snakes and guiding the camels, though rarely used for beating them. The hair is perhaps the most curious part, being jet black, coarse, wavy, and straight up, in three divisions, one at each side and one in the middle; or else a crown of hair two or three inches long, straight up, and a sort of tail behind all dripping with oil. In the early morning, at noon, and at night I noticed that a mark of sand was on many of the men's foreheads, chins, and noses; I found out afterwards it was from bowing the head down to the ground in prayer. The mark is never brushed off, as it said to be an ornament to a "believer's" face. Before praying, a Moslem must wash; in the Desert he does this with sand, as sand is said to have a cleansing effect, and the Koran allows it. They wear a necklace of beads which, when they pray, they count, saying " Allah" for each bead dropped. They have several charms, sewn up in a neat leather case, and fastened round the upper arm. These are supposed to protect from sickness, wild beasts, the evil eye, &c. They use a good deal of snuff, carrying it in a round wooden ball; they place the snuff under the upper lip. But to go back again: the evening at Handob was cool, so I tried to go a stroll with my gun, but soon felt tired, and had to return after a few hundred yards. The howling of the hyenas disturbed my rest much, but next morning at five I was up and felt rather better, and we left Handob at 5.30, travelling about N.W., and getting a last unexpected glimpse of the sea. Shall we ever see it again, I wonder? June 27.-We gradually ascended by an easy road into the mountains, the only drawback being the thorn bushes, which kept one constantly on the look-out. I was very thankful not to have another attack of fever, which I was expecting; I had taken a large dose of quinine. As we moved along we saw on several mountain peaks wild Arabs looking out for small or unprotected caravans, which they rob, not leaving their victims their clothes. Here is no vegetation but the thorn trees, and no green leaves to be seen except a few near the wells. We saw a few small deer, and Pearson and Litchfield tried to get a shot, but without success, We arrived at Wotu, a hut as before, at 9.30, and rested there till 4.15, but to our great disgust the water was very salt and nasty. The filters cleared it of the dirt, but not of the salt or disagreeable taste. We had an awful march of eight and a half hours without getting off the camels to Olip, passing on the way Hambuck, a pretty-looking well, around which was a small Arab encampment; it looked a very tempting place to rest at, but our kavass would not hear of stopping, he said the water was salt and there was no hut. The ride from Hambuck to Olip, I can scarcely describe. It was very dark, very rough, and the camel shook me a great deal. My back hurt me much; I was very tired; my head ached very badly, and, added to all this, salt water made it misery. I nearly fell asleep with fatigue several times, but the " He, he, hiss" of the camel-drivers, combined with the jolting, kept me awake. How I got off the camel at Olip, I do not know; but I fell down on my augaril, a native bed which is very light and useful; it is a light, wooden frame, laced with red string, and can be slung over the luggage on the camel, and is always ready for use. There I lay, too tired to sleep, but unable to move, and though ants and beetles, and even two or three lizards crawled over me, I could do nothing. The noise of the camels was most trying; but all must end some time, and at last I fell asleep. ANNIE LAMB; OR, THE LASTING MEMORIAL. N a green knoll formed by a bend of the river Trent, which sweeps round it with a rapid eddying current, there nestles, half concealed amid a group of noble elms, a village church and churchyard, whose quiet beauty won the heart and inspired the strains of Kirke White, the youthful poet of the neighbouring town. It was Sunday morning, a few weeks before Christmas, one of those cold, uninviting November days which make even the strong and healthy think twice before they leave their snug firesides. The clergyman, as he passed from the parsonage to the church, cast a wistful glance down the sheltered road that leads from the village to the house of prayer. No figure met his eye. The road looked deserted and forlorn; and his heart was sad as he thought within himself, "Alas! there will be few of my flock to meet with me in the House of God to-day." A train of desponding thoughts had been awakened within him, and he allowed them to run on perhaps too readily, but it was a morning to be gloomy and depressed. Musing thus in sadness he drew toward the church; when, lifting up his eyes, he espied, to his surprise, a well-known member of his little flock, a poor, pale, delicate-looking, and crippled girl, who was slowly making her way up the gravel path. To him in a moment that poor crippled form proved an angel of joy. As he saw her his gloomy thoughts were put to flight, and his face brightened, and there was a cheeriness in his tone as he accosted her, saying, "Good morning, Annie: how come you to be here this cold morning? it is hardly fit for such as you to be out-of-doors." "O sir," she replied, and tears of tender emotion came into her eyes as she spoke, "I cannot help coming; I always used to like to come; but since my confirmation day, you know, sir, when I gave myself to the Lord, I have felt I could not stay away from His |