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THE BHISHTI (WATER-CARRIER).

TAPAL WALLAH (POSTMAN).

THE PARSEF,

He has a sheepskin hung round him, and from its neck he is ever ready to pour, or squirt, or sprinkle the much-needed water. Who can look at him without thinking of Him who is so graciously ready to give a draught of living water to every one who is athirst?

6. The Postman. You would not believe what a linguist this man must be. There are fifteen languages spoken in India, and this poor man must know the characters of several of them. For the English have given India the blessing of the cheap post. How we should like to show you some of these Indian letters! Such long addresses have they that it is often difficult to distinguish the name of sender from that of the intended receiver.

7. Who is this fine cheerful-looking gentleman with the tall spotted hat? He is a Parsee, much more like a European than any of the others. Indeed he is a sort of stranger in India. The home of his fathers was Persia, and his religion, too, is quite different from that of the Hindoos or Mahomedans. He is a good man of business, and devoted to trade.

8. Here is another most useful servant, the Washerman (Dhobi). See how he beats the clothes on the river's bank. Yes, and it is marvellous how well he does his work; and if you went home with him you would be surprised to see how, with nothing but a single ponderous smoothingiron, heated by being filled with burning charcoal, he most skilfully makes up the finest things, and the next moment accomplishes the work of the heaviest mangle. The missionary in his preaching sometimes refers to the work of such men; for they can take out the deepest stains, and make a garment as white as snow.

Now what do you think of these Indians? You see they are not like poor savages. They are clever men. They have their trades and professions like ourselves, and are most skilful in the various arts, which they seem to inherit from their fathers, for in India most of the trades are connected with caste. Well, don't these people need clever, welleducated missionaries to teach them? They are kind and gentle people, but they need the light of God's Truth to shine into their hearts to make them "meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light" (Col. i. 12). W. J. BALL.

Cambridge.

THE DHOBI (WASHERMAN).

OVER THE WATER.

BY EVELYN R. GARRATT.

CHAPTER XI.-CALLED.

UT Leith Lancaster was not at ease.

He returned to London the day after he had proposed to Sasie, and though he left a diamond ring on her finger as a token that she belonged to him, and began to draw pictures in his mind of the home he would prepare for

her, he was not happy.

Before many days were over his face wore an anxious, perplexed expression, and loss of appetite and sleepless nights began to tell their tale.

He wrote to Sasie every day, and received letters in return; but after reading them he would sit with his arms on the table, and his hands thrust through his hair, and then would suddenly push back his chair, and pace the room with knitted brows and compressed lips, looking as though he were going through some great mental struggle; it generally ended with his falling on his knees and praying.

"I can keep it to myself no longer," he exclaimed one day aloud, "Sasie must be told." And then he packed his portmanteau, and started for Inglesby by the afternoon train.

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"This is the second time within the last month that you've taken me by surprise," exclaimed his mother, with a kiss of welcome, "but I suppose I must expect these erratic movements on your part in future;' but a keener look at Leith checked the smile on his mother's face, and she added quickly, "You are not well, Leith."

"I have something to tell Sasie," he said, earnestly," and I want you to pray for her."

"Come into the drawing-room; you must have some tea before you tell me."

"No, nothing for me till I've made a clean breast of it," said Leith, following his mother mechanically. "I have been a sinner, mother." Mrs. Lancaster turned round startled.

"The fact is," explained Leith, sitting down, "I have been turning away from my duty, and have tried hard not to listen to God's voice. He has been calling me, I believe, for months."

Calling you, Leith ?"

"Yes; I think I am not mistaken in thinking that my life work is to be abroad."

Mrs. Lancaster's heart sank.

"But," continued Leith, "a doubt as to whether Sasie would agree to it has made a coward of me, and when her father talked of our settling in London and being comparatively near, I felt it would be nearly hopeless to ask for Sasie if I told him that I meant to live and work as a missionary. I dared not tell either of them, and hoped that the fact of Sasie's love would so fill my thoughts as to make me forget my call." "And you feel certain that it will be right for you to give up all your former plans and hopes, Leith ?"

"Don't tempt me, little mother. I dare not think of what my duty will be if Sasie or her father object. You must pray for us, mother." "For us!' Do not I need praying for as much if not more than either of them?" thought Mrs. Lancaster, with an inward groan.

Leith rose. "I can't rest till the matter is settled. I will be back soon." And without another word he was gone, leaving his mother staring blankly after him. That evening Nona Lancaster prayed from her heart for strength to say, "Thy will be done."

Leith need not have feared what Sasie's answer would be. Her love for him was far too strong to allow of there being a single question as to whether she would go to the world's end with him or not. So long as she was with him, working by his side, what did it matter as to place and. country? indeed, she could only rejoice when she heard he was thinking of going out as a missionary.

And as they sat talking in the twilight by the schoolroom fire, they drew bright pictures of a future home in India or Africa, and forgot all for the moment, save their happy day dream.

"But," said Sasie, suddenly, "I wonder what my father will say ? "Yes, there's your father," said Leith, gravely.

"Well, the sooner he is told the better. Had you not better have a

talk with him at once, Leith? You will find him in the study, and I will wait here for you."

Sasie had to wait longer than she anticipated. At last, at the sound of Leith's footsteps in the hall, she sprang up and met him at the door. One look at his face was sufficient to tell her the consequence of his talk.

"It is just as I feared; he won't hear of it, and says I must choose between you and what he calls this absurd notion of mine." Sasie stood as if rooted to the spot.

"He says you are far too young, and that if I insist upon going, I must go alone."

"You can't go alone," murmured Sasie.

"If," continued Leith, “in five years' time you are still of the same mind he may possibly allow it, but that is all the comfort he gives us." Suddenly clasping her hands over his arm, Sasie looked up anxiously into his face, with the words, "Then you'll be content to work in England, won't you, Leith dear? There are a great many heathen in London, who need missionaries just as much as those in India and Africa. You won't go away without me?"

"How can I?" he said slowly, looking down at her upturned face. "We will work together in London," continued Sasie, eagerly, "and will think no more of India or Africa."

"Work together in London." Ah! how sweet it sounded! Would not his mother be pleased? Leith was silent for a moment, only the workings of his face showed the struggle which was going on within. His voice was unnaturally quiet when he spoke.

"Would you marry a coward, Sasie ? "

"A coward ? No."

"Then don't make me one. God calls me to fight, and love for you is making a coward of me."

"But," cried Sasie, covering her face in her hands, "how can I help you to be brave when I am a coward myself? How can I say go, when my whole heart says stay? "I'm expecting too much from you, Sasie. You are right; the only thing we can do is to pray for strength."

'Yes, pray, Leith; but do not ask me to be brave."

It was a silent good-bye, and Leith went out into the darkness, hardly knowing what he was doing, and all the way home he kept thinking of the words,." He that loveth father or mother more than Me is not worthy of Me." He paced up and down the garden for a long time before going in to see his mother.

Meanwhile Mrs. Lancaster sat watching and waiting for him; it was a relief at last to hear a door open and Leith's footstep in the hall. She went to meet him, but reading all in his face, she was not surprised at his hurried kiss, after which he ran upstairs, shutting the door after him. Sasie stood where Leith had left her for some moments without moving, and then suddenly a thought struck her. Leith had failed with her father, but why should she? He was very fond of her, and many a time a little coaxing on her part had made him alter a decision on less important subjects. She would go and pray him to change his mind. Hope rose in her heart as she made her way to his study, and knocking at the door, found him standing with his back to the fire meditating.

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Well, Sasie, my dear, whatever has put this new idea into Leith's head? Wants to go out to the blacks he tells me, and take you with him. I've never heard of such an idea, and the sooner he changes his mind the better, or he must put off all thoughts of marrying you for the next five years at least."

"Don't you think you could change your mind, father, for once?" said Sasie, coaxingly.

"Eh! what? Change my mind," said Mr. Ogilvie, playfully pinching Sasie's cheek; "why, what do these red eyes mean, little puss?" But Sasie only grew more earnest. "Five years is such a long time to wait," she said, tremblingly.

"Nonsense, my dear, if a man can't wait five years for his bride he isn't worth much. Think of Jacob-seven years, wasn't it, in that case ? " "Oh, it isn't that," said Sasie, eagerly, "he would wait any number of years for me, I know, only

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'Why we may be dead in five years' time," said Sasie, with a sob, anything might happen."

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“Tut and nonsense," said Mr. Ogilvie, a vexed look crossing his goodhumoured face, for if one thing vexed him it was to see tears. “Five years will be over before you know, and if your love can't bear the test, I can't say much for it."

"It would bear any test."

"Very well then, if that's the case you need not worry; and all the tears in the world wouldn't alter my decision. I'm not going to let you go out to the heathen before you've seen a little more of your fellowcountrymen, and take my word for it that Leith Lancaster isn't the only nice young man in England. You ought to see others before you decide. 'Marry in haste,' and what's the end of the proverb? And if all goes well in five years' time, you'll be sailing away to those blacks you're so fond of with my blessing; till then you must wait patiently. Don't you think I love you enough to know what is best for you, or do you think your father is a dreadful old tyrant ?"

"No," said Sasie, "I would never think that;" but as she left the room the faint smile which had risen at his words faded from her face. As the days passed she slowly recovered her had not been mistaken in saying she would

Ella Venning did not die. strength, though the doctors be a cripple for life.

For life! The words had fallen upon Ella's ears like a death knell. To know that though winter would change to summer, weeks into months, months into years, she would still remain a cripple, and would never be like other girls again.

"I would rather die," she moaned at first, when the truth was broken to her; but after the first day or two a torpor seemed to creep over her, and she did not mention the subject again for weeks. She would lie for hours with closed eyes, unwilling to be roused.

It was a terrible grief to Beatrice, but this sorrow brought out all her good points. Her mother was surprised to see how much tenderness and thoughtfulness there was in her character. Ella indeed was her first thought, and she would not, if she could help it, leave her even for an hour, though to sit by her and see her utter indifference to even life itself was sometimes almost too much for her. For hours she puzzled over what she could do to bring a look of even the faintest interest into Ella's worn face, but everything she tried failed.

One day a thought struck her. If there was one person in Inglesby whom Ella admired as well as respected it was Mrs. Lancaster, and knowing she was good as well as beautiful, Beatrice determined to ask her to come and see her sister. It happened to be the morning following the day on which Leith had taken his mother by surprise, and he had gone round to see Sasie after breakfast. Mrs. Lancaster was feeling utterly downhearted and sad, and by no means inclined to see Beatrice or any one; but when she heard the reason of her visit, she gladly promised to do what she asked. When that afternoon she entered Ella's room, the girl did not look pleased to see her, but by degrees her soft voice and self-forgetting sympathy found their way into her heart, and Ella began to look on her with interest. She was well aware that Mrs. Lancaster's own life had not been all sunshine, and just now there were lines of pain on her white forehead, which Ella, who was learning her first lessons in the school of suffering, was quick to perceive. Beside which, there was an atmosphere surrounding her which did not fail to influence those who came near her, and Ella felt instinctively that she was good.

In her old days Ella had had many a laugh over what she called the "goody goody” people in Inglesby, but she never thought for a moment of including Mrs. Lancaster in this category, or of applying the words to her. She was good, Ella felt it-felt that she recommended the religion she professed, and looking at her, wished she were like her.

Quite unconscious of Ella's thoughts about her, Mrs. Lancaster set herself studiously to interest the girl and win her affection, not that she ever had much difficulty in this way, for a few minutes' talk was generally enough to make people discover that her friendship would be worth having. Ella became interested in her, and as she rose to leave, asked her to come again, and before many visits were over Mrs. Lancaster had won her way into the girl's heart, and it was from her lips that Ella heard that life, even such a life as she expected hers to be, was worth living if given to God; but in order to be able to give, she must first receive.

SEQUEL TO BAIJNATH'S STORY. (See GLEANER of last month.)

BY THE REV. F. T. COLE.

|PON my arrival in the Santâl country Baijnath was made over to me for a teacher. He has remained with me during the nine years I have been in the Santâl district, and now I have only parted from him upon my leaving India. During these nine years he has been with me every day, and nearly the whole of each day. I have made use of him constantly as a preacher, and he has accompanied me in all my cold weather itinerations, so I can speak of him confidently as one whom I know thoroughly.

Baijnath is rather short and boyish-looking, having no hair on his face; this makes him look much younger than he really is. He is dark, with rather thick lips, and has a very flat nose. He is about thirty-three years old. (His portrait appeared in the GLEANER of March last.)

As a Christian he has much influence with the people, but what surprises us most is the boldness with which he rebukes sin, no matter who the culprit is; be he rich or poor he has to hear Baijnath's opinion upon the subject. He has a remarkably nice way of speaking and preaching, and is always practical in his remarks. The events of the week, the joys or sorrows of some member of the congregation, are descanted upon in his sermon. He generally assists me by preaching on Sunday afternoons at Dharampur, and when I am absent in the district he takes the whole of the services.

Baijnath has the good fortune to possess a truly good wife. She was brought up by Mrs. Storrs in her girls' school, and has shown by her life the vast difference between an educated and an uneducated Santâl woman. Such women have immense influence upon their husbands; and it is very pleasing to see how much respected they are by the rest of the people. They have three children now, one having died when a baby. When Baijnath was once out with me in the district preaching, he dreamt one night that God appeared to him, saying, "Give me your babe." Not long after this a special messenger arrived, and told Baijnath that his child was dangerously ill. He set off immediately, but did not reach his home in time to see his child alive. This loss produced a great effect on him; he seemed to think more of heaven, his own spiritual life appeared to be deepened.

In all the translational work in which I have been engaged, Baijnath has been my right hand. The Santâli idiom and diction of the four Gospels have been his, and I think he has in this way laid the foundations of Santâli literature and fixed the lines on which the language will run in the future. Before his time there was very little Santâli literature, and consequently its style and grammar had not been fixed. Baijnath's Santâli is considered by the other missionaries to be very good; he is a fluent writer, also an eloquent speaker, and has a keen sense of the ridiculous.

I once took him to Calcutta for a treat. His eyes and mouth were wide open all the time. The gas and ships struck him as very wonderful. He mistook a marble monument in a church for a live figure. One day he went to the bazaar to look about. A big fat Babu standing at his shop door invited Baijnath to come in, and politely asked him to be seated; this he was ashamed to do, as he had not been accustomed to sit in the presence of such great men. After a great deal of pressing he did at last sit down, and the shopkeeper showed him all the articles in his shop. After spending nearly an hour at this work the Babu asked him how many things he was going to buy. Baijnath in astonishment said he did not want to buy anything, and thought that it was from kindness he was showing him all these things; so he got up and walked away amid a shower of abuse. Baijnath when he returned home gave two lectures to the schoolboys and Christians on what he had seen in Calcutta, and the humour with which he told the tale of the fat Babu is beyond my powers of description.

Baijnath has been the greatest comfort to me at times when I have been cast down; not so much by his words as by his happy, cheerful, Christian life; he has made me feel that after all Christianity is not powerless to raise and beautify the lives of such degraded creatures as the Santâls. I have never had to rebuke him for any serious

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