After the program came the inevitable tea. A missionary ought to cultivate a love for tea before he comes to the Orient. For here it will be constantly offered to him, in the shop, after church, on the street. But since these Chinese allow us to enter their rooms without removing our shoes, and do not insist upon our sitting on the floor, I am sure that I prefer Chinese tea drinking to Japanese.

We were invited to examine the notebooks in astronomy, biology and geometry; and I felt ashamed as I recalled some of my college notebooks. I could read few of the characters, but I could appreciate the neatness and accuracy of the drawings, and I could read the essays of the English class on Portia. I wondered how these girls, with all sentiment suppressed by training and example, could appreciate the principal element of this play, but the essays surely showed understanding and appreciation, though they dwelt chiefly on Portia's virtue in following her father's plans, though she, herself, wished to tell the favorite suitors which casket to choose.

In the afternoon we took a foreign carriage-not a cart, nor a jinrikisha-but a real foreign carriage with blue plush cushions and gilt tassels, that we might visit the Temple of Heaven. Here the worship approaches most nearly the true worship of any of the heathen rites. Heaven is worshiped once a year by the Emperor, who prays and sacrifices for the sins of his people. Last winter as I went to the depot to take the train for Peking, I was told that the train could not go to Peking that day since the Emperor had gone to worship at the Temple of Heaven. As we saw dozens of immense stoves at the entrance for the preparation of the food for the Emperor and his retinue, I was less surprised that the train must stop until he and his hundred attendants had returned.

A strange feeling of awe came over me as I entered these grounds and buildings of former generations. This place is surely a marvel of art, and is beautiful and impressive in structure and coloring.

But we wondered at the dust on the marvelously carved throne, where the Emperor spends the night in feasting and prayer before he sacrifices for his people, and at the dirt carelessly swept into the corner of this sacred place into which the common Chinese are not allowed to enter. We asked if we might bring a Chinese attendant with us, and consent was given, but when the guard found out that the attendant was a woman, immediately the decision was reversed. "Oh, no," the guard said laughingly, not come in here. Why, even the Empress Dowager would not be allowed to enter." "Oh, then, why do you allow the foreign women to enter?" I "We must," he replied, "we do not dare to offend the honorable foreigner." So by giving tips we were shown through the extensive

asked.

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women can

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One Day at Peking

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grounds and buildings with great courtesy. Though we were the honored foreigner, we were not allowed to pass through the middle gates nor use the middle walks; these were for the Emperor and the good spirits, the east and west paths were for us.

The difference between the Emperor's stairway and the one for the less honorable foreigner is not very great. The former is wider, and as the guide brushed some of the dust away from the marble at the great circular building, we noticed that there the marble was more rare, and highly polished. This most prominent building, with its shining tiles of blue and yellow, and its wonderful carvings and paintings, is devoted to the ancestral tablets of the Manchu dynasty. It contains on the northern side, a huge tablet to Imperial Heaven, and four cases on each side to the eight emperors who have reigned thus far during the past two hundred and fifty-six years. The inscriptions on these tablets to the deified ancestors for very good reasons we did not stop to read.

To the south was another magnificent building which even we were not allowed to enter, and beyond, the green polished tiles of the sacrificial altars, and the Altar of Heaven where the Emperor only, stands and worships for his people. Briers and thorns are twined around this white marble structure protecting it from the foreign visitors who might desecrate this place by removing pieces for souvenirs.

I climbed to the top of the green tiled structure and picked from among the ashes some bones of the sacrificial offerings. I think no one would object to this souvenir.

Slowly we came away from the wonderful temple, through the grounds fragrant with flowers, shaded by the immense trees of a former century, picking up bits of carved tiles and flowers. Outside the moat and double gates was the dry parched earth, a beggar wretched and dirty, begging for alms, little naked children, tired jinrikisha men watching for employment, shopkeepers with their tiny stores, waiting listlessly for a customer. These are the people for which the Emperor sacrifices a bull and prays for once a year. Further along, we saw some sleek, black bullocks being led toward the temple grounds to be fed and cared for until they would follow their companions to the green polished altar. I thought, "If the blood of bulls and goats and the ashes of an heifer sprinkling the unclean, sanctifieth to the purifying of the flesh, how much more shall the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without spot to God, purge your conscience from dead works to serve the living God?"

IT

AHJIBAI

BY MISS ANSTICE ABBOTT

T is nearly six months now since dear old Bhimabai passed away, but the memory will live long in the Bombay church and in the hearts of those who knew her and loved her. A short sketch of her life will, I hope, interest our readers and strengthen their faith in sending the gospel to their Indian sisters.

Bhimabai Powar was of the Marli or gardener caste. Her husband was in the employ of a Parsi. They were of good standing in the caste, but Bhimabai being an intelligent woman, often questioned in her own mind the utility of their idolatrous worship, and at times would cease from all religious observances just to see what would come of it. Nothing came of it, but she would return to her old ways from force of habit and also to prevent scandal. In the spring of 1895 both she and her husband were attacked with violent malarial fever and taken to the general hospital. They were, of course in different wards. When she began to recover and inquired for her husband, he, poor man, was dead and buried. In her despair at being left a widow she longed for death, but life came slowly back. During her convalesence the Bible women visited her regularly, and from the first she heard them gladly. As she said afterward, Jesus wanted me, so he prepared my heart."

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On her recovery the serious question of how and where she was to live pressed heavily upon her. She had no relatives to whom she could go, and but few acquaintances in Bombay and no means of livelihood. After consulting with the Bible women I offered her a room in the same building with one of my schools, and undertook her support until she decided whether to cast in her lot with the Christians or to return to her own people. She wished the Bible women to teach her, and she would often sit near the schoolroom door that she might hear the children sing and receive their daily Bible lesson. The prayer of the teacher and the Lord's prayer repeated reverently by Hindu and Bene-Israelite children impressed her greatly. Before long she had fully and intelligently accepted Christ, and was received into the American mission church. She had been attending its services for some time.

Soon after her baptism a young woman was put into her charge, a deserted wife, who, after hearing the Bible women every week near her home, was desirous of leaving all and becoming a Christian. She was of high caste, so the two women got on well together-by eating apart. The elder began at once to train the younger in Christlike ways. No easy task,

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for the latter's idea of Christianity was protection and provision, together with a ceasing from " presumptuous sins." The bringing into Christ's control "the words of the mouth and the meditation of the heart," was an entirely new idea to her, and proved to be for a long time an irksome task. In July, 1897, when I opened my "Widows' Home," Bhimabai and her young companion were its first occupants. Bhimabai was perhaps about fifty at that time, tall, dignified, reserved, and well set in her own ways. She was, however, I believe, truly looking forward to helping me in the training of young widows as they should come into the Home. She was not, however, at all prepared for the influx of thirteen women within two weeks, women saved from the famine, unkempt, diseased in body and mind. She withdrew into her shell, and while she was not unkind, she kept to herself as much as possible from the unpromising addition. As the women improved in health of body, she awoke to her duty and her privilege. As she was the old woman among them, and never well and strong, she was allowed to cook and eat by herself, but many a time if any one was ill or sad she would cook a little dainty for her, sometimes invite one who had been particularly naughty to come into her little room, give her something delicious of her own cooking, and then, like a dear old grandmother, talk to the rebellious one until she became softened and comforted.

She soon earned the name of Ahjibai (grandmother) and was Ahjibai to the end of her days. She was a blessing indeed to the Home. Never interfering with the matron, never assuming any prominence, always quietly working for the Master.

The most marked characteristic in her new life was her simple, full faith in Christ. She took him at his word and was full of gratitude and love toward him for the forgiveness of her sins; for bringing her out of idolatry; and for the provision for all her wants and needs. She never liked to pray before others, but when it seemed her duty to do so she did not refuse. Her prayers were a speaking to God and most impressive in their simple faith. When it was her turn at evening prayers to tell a Bible story and give some thoughts upon it, all gave their attention, for her expositions were original, apt and spiritual.

In 1905 the Home was moved to Satara in the hope that I might recover health and continue in my beloved work. But the hope was not realized, and as I bade good-by to my women and children it was hardest to part from my true helper and friend, dear Ahjibai.

The Home could not be continued in Satara, so the women were separated. Some went with Mrs. Fairbank to Ahmednagar. Others were sent to Mrs. Sibley in Wai. Ahjibai was homesick for Bombay and for the

church in which she had been a faithful member, so Miss Millard cared for her in her own compound. She had been losing strength for some months and on her return to Bombay it was found she was suffering from a tumor. She lived on, patient and cheerful, attracting to her little room many of the Christians by her happy Christian life.

Dr. Gurubai Karmarker, our missionary doctor, attended her to the last, and I can do no better than to copy extracts from two letters that she wrote concerning Ahjibai's last days.

She wrote January 25th: "Dear Ahjibai is very frail and weak, yet strong in her faith and reliance on God and her Saviour. She is a beautiful character. A true Christian. She is so thankful to Mrs. E. for her support. Every time I go to see her, she expressed her gratitude. dear soul, she lives the gospel."

February Sth. "Dear old Ahjibai entered into her rest yesterday morning. . . . Sunday, a week ago, I called on her in the morning and asked her if she would like to have the pastor administer the sacrament to her, as the Lord's Supper was to be celebrated that morning in church. She said, 'Oh yes. It will be my last sacrament on earth.'

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"About ten days before her death she handed to me nineteen rupees which she had been gathering and saving in pies (a twelfth of a penny) for some years. She wanted to use some of it for the Kingdom of Christ. told her of our new Indian Missionary Association, and she was delighted to give five rupees for that and five rupees to the church. The rest she wished used for her funeral expenses. Ahjibai was a remarkable woman. She was a true example of how the Holy Spirit can wholly change the human nature. It was perfectly astonishing to see that no sign of heathenism was left in her, although she became a Christian late in life."

I send this account to comfort and encourage those who are supporting widows and helpless women in India.