his length upon the ground and dragging his body through the dust. He was on his way to some temple or shrine, and by this slow and painful process it would take the whole day for him to reach it. His motion was like that of a large inch-worm, as he slowly stretched himself at full length along the ground; and the sight would have seemed ludicrous, had it been less sad.

The accompanying picture is that of a fakir who became a somewhat conspicuous character in missionary circles in India. This old man thought that he had committed unpardonable sins against the gods. He made a vow therefore that he would wear an iron cage around his neck until he had begged sufficient money to enable him to dig a deep well in a dry country, which is considered a very meritorious act. The cage, or gridiron, rested on his shoulders like a Chinese cangue; and upon it were his idol, some trinkets, and a few feathers. Around his neck were strings of seeds of the tulsie-tree, upon which he counted his prayers. He begged for seventeen years, yet found no peace, and he continually dreaded the wrath of the gods. Passing through a village one day, he heard a missionary preach from the words, "The blood of Jesus Christ, his Son, cleanseth us from all sin."

He became converted, but still wore the cage for three years until his vow was fulfilled, and the well was dug.

Then he became a preacher and an earnest and faithful helper of the missionaries in Southern India.

CHAPTER VII.

CAWNPORE AND THE MUTINY.

If the heat had been found excessive in coming to Benares, it was still more so in leaving the city. All my sight-seeing had been accomplished within a few hours after sunrise, and the rest of the day I remained under the swinging punkahs at the hotel, keeping as cool and quiet as possible. But on learning that a train would leave the railroad station at four o'clock P. M., and that this was the only one which would enable me to make connections with the night express from Mogul Serai to Agra, I determined at once to take it.

The attempt to catch the train was a great risk, however, for the distance to the station was four miles, and the carriage must necessarily drive very slowly over a sandy road, where I would be exposed to the direct rays of a tropical sun for an hour or so, in the hottest part of the afternoon.

I had never ventured out so early in the day since the "hot season" had fairly set in, and from the warnings that old residents had given me, I had

grave misgivings whether it could be safely ventured upon even where the necessity of the case gave me but little choice.

The first three miles were accomplished without very great discomfort, but on the fourth mile, where the carriage dragged slowly through the sandy river-bed and across the miserable bridge of boats, the temperature within the close carriage rose to a furnace-like heat, and I seriously doubted whether my head could endure the terrible pressure and heavy throbbing until the train was reached. At last, however, the river was crossed, and I staggered from the carriage into the dépöt, where I found as usual that I was about the only foreigner on the train.

Before starting, a very pleasant-looking native, whom I had met in the city, came up to me and said he was sorry to see that the heat affected me so severely; and then added, "But you will find the hot winds much worse at Agra, sir, for natives as well as foreigners die there from the heat." This was consoling, under the circumstances, and I asked him how I might escape. "Oh," he replied reassuringly, "do not fear, for God will keep you through it."

Greatly struck at such a remark, coming from

such a source, I immediately inquired if he were a Christian. "No," he replied, "I am a Hindoo, but I believe in one God whom we may trust." I asked him if he did not believe in the forms of Hindoo worship which I had seen in the morning at Benares, among his own people. He said he did not, for he counted all these idolatrous practices as "foolishness." "You belong to the sect of the Brahmo-Somaj, then," I said. He replied that he did, and then he told me that Keshub Chunder Sen, the founder of the sect, whom I had met in Calcutta, had been to Benares, and preached to the people the new doctrine of Brahmoism, and that he for one believed in it, and had renounced his idols. I told him that I was well acquainted with the teachings of the Brahmo-Somaj, for I had enjoyed a long interview with Chunder Sen on the subject, in his home at Calcutta. I also met some of his disciples who had just returned from the Madras Presidency, where they had gone on a preaching tour. Hopes had been excited in missionary circles that the Brahmo-Somaj would accomplish great religious reforms, as it aimed to overthrow the tyranny of caste, break down idolatry and superstition, and introduce a more spiritual faith, founded on "the spirit of prayer" and belief in one God.