into gross wickedness has been very unsatisfactory. Many are respectable members of society, and make the profession of religion implied in attending public worship and calling themselves Christians. A considerable number show in different ways spiritual character. What more can be said of congregations composed of those whose advantages have been immeasurably greater? It would have been a most pleasing, but at the same time a most remarkable and unparalleled result, if orphans brought up under the charge of missionaries had gone forth a united band, with no defaulters, to maintain the cause of God among their countrymen, by a life so adorned with excellence that its testimony to Christ could not be resisted. The result actually attained, though chequered, is sufficient to show that orphan institutions have by the Divine blessing done much good, and that the faithful labour bestowed on them has borne gratifying fruit.

MISSION TOURS.

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IN

CHAPTER XIV.

MISSION TOURS.

N our own country, under the pressure of life, many hail the release from toil and the refreshment of spirit promised by the annual summer trip. So in India missionaries avail themselves of the cold season to sally out for the prosecution of their work. Their main object is to make known the gospel to the many whom they are sure to meet wherever their tent may be pitched, who have never heard the name of Jesus, except perhaps amidst the bustle and noise of a mela, and who but for itineracies would remain in total ignorance of the Saviour of mankind. The missionary who does not keep this before his mind as his chief aim is unworthy of the name. While this object is pursued, another is sought which missionaries deem very legitimate. Health is indispensable for the efficient discharge of their duties, and travelling is found very beneficial to the health of their families as well as to their own. Touring in the cold weather, by the new strength it gives to the body and the refreshment it gives to the spirit, has been found to prepare them for a new campaign at home as nothing else could have done.

Some missionaries have kept themselves within a limited sphere not far from their homes, visiting the

same places again and again, obtaining a personal acquaintance with many of the people, and endeavouring to deepen any impressions which may have been made. Others have travelled for weeks, sometimes for months, over hundreds of miles, visiting the towns and villages on their route, and speaking about the things of God to all whom they have met.

During my long residence in India it was my privilege to undertake tours of both descriptions. I never stopped at home during the cold weather-we are not in India in the habit of saying summer and winter," but "hot weather and cold weather "-except when justice to my colleagues, or the necessities of the mission, compelled me to stay. There were seasons when my colleague was, either from inexperience or ill-health, unable to do the home work; or, as happened more than once, I had no colleague at all, and in these circumstances it was obvious duty to remain at my post. Even then I commonly managed to get out a little into the surrounding country. On some of our tours we were put to no small inconvenience, and we were not strangers to hardship; but we look back to them with much pleasure, and think how much we would like to set out on them again if circumstances permitted.

season.

At an early stage of our residence at Benares voyaging on the Ganges was a favourite mode of enjoying the cold There were budgerows, vessels with two tolerably sized rooms, available for hire at a moderate charge. It was indispensable to have with the budgerow a small boat for the accommodation of servants and for the cooking of food. On a few occasions I took a trip on a vessel of this description with my family, moving up and down the river, and halting towards evening near a town

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or village, which I could visit for the purpose of speaking to the people about the Saviour. The country is so populous that there was no difficulty in mooring our little craft in the evening near some place where hearers could be collected. It was seldom on any tour in the NorthWest we were allowed to forget that we were in the region of the sacred river, which receives from the people divine honours, and which in their belief confers inestimable benefit on all who bathe in its waters. When on the bank of the river, its alleged virtues formed a frequent subject of remark and discussion. There, as elsewhere, we had to tell them that Ganges water, however good for refreshing and cleansing the body, cannot wash away one spot from the soul. We had to tell them frequently, that as the washerman who puts clothes into a box and carefully washes it with the expectation of their coming out clean and white will be acting a very foolish part, so they were acting an equally futile part if they supposed that the water of the Ganges, so useful for the body, had any effect on the spirit. In answer to the remark that Ganges water could not do what other water could not, as it had nothing peculiar in its composition, I have been gravely told that two things exactly the same to the senses may be essentially different; and the proof given was that the river Kurumnasa, which means the destroyer of merit, takes away all merit from those who bathe in it, while bathing in the Ganges secures an untold degree of merit, extending not only to one's own past and future, but to an untold number of ancestors and descendants !

When on the Ganges or its banks one continually sees proof of the implicit trust placed in it. We remember being awakened very early one morning long before dawn by a person bathing close to our boat, in a quivering voice

which showed he was chilled by the water, long and earnestly imploring the favour of Gunga Ma-Mother Ganges.

There is no part of India, mountain or plain, where serpents may not be encountered. One evening, when returning to our boat from a village on the banks of the river, I was walking warily on a narrow path half-covered with grass from both sides, when I saw before me what I first supposed to be a rope. I halted, and immediately a serpent glided away. That evening, before reaching the boat, I saw at least a dozen of serpents at their evening gambols over the ruins of a house. I walked quietly on, deeming it the best part of valour to leave them undisturbed. If they observed me they showed no inclination to approach me.

For many years voyaging on the Ganges has gone out of fashion. Native boats laden with produce and wood continue to ply, but the budgerows and pinnaces, which Europeans could hire, have almost entirely disappeared. There are various reasons for this change. The current of the river is very rapid in some places, which makes the work of dragging against it very slow and tiresome; there is sometimes the danger of collision with other boats. The high banks of the river here and there prevent the country from being seen, and at other places there is a dreary stretch of sand. Though the weather of the cold season is very steady, a storm might come on, and if it did neither boat nor boatmen could be trusted; for the boat, never of the best material, was often sadly out of repair, and the boatmen were ready, when danger appeared, to throw themselves into the water and make for the shore, leaving the passengers to shift for themselves. There was, indeed, the pleasantness of sailing on a broad