MADRAS.

marble. The grounds round the European houses are well planted, and the country now presents a green and cheerful aspect. Mount Road, running south and inland, leads to many bungalows and hotels. The drive along the beach to the Capper House is the pleasantest in Madras. Here one meets the sea-breeze, appropriately called by the residents "the doctor." Here we pass the most imposing of the public buildings of the city, in particular the University. It was strange to see on the Sunday the punkas swinging during service in the churches. Like huge weavers' beams with heavy curtains, they are kept in motion by means of cords pulled from the outside, two natives, who keep each other

awake, being employed for every one. However strict a Sabbatarian, the minister as well as the people must have the punka kept going over his head throughout the service.

In Madras we visited two large hospitals; the one in the Foreign Town supported by Europeans and conducted upon the English system, the other in the Native Town and under native superintendence. The general hospital in the Foreign Town is a very large and well-ventilated building. It has spacious corridors, wide and shady verandas, and noble wards. The doors were open on every hand, mainly towards the verandas; and a refreshing breeze passing gently through, relieved the heat, which in this climate. is so oppressive to the patient. In every ward freshness and cheerfulness

seemed to bespeak a cure. Hopefulness was upon the countenances even of the most afflicted, and pleasant pictures and beautiful flowers gladdened the eye. The matron is a lady clever and kind. Her apartments are at the top of the building, on which a garden is laid out, and which commands an extensive view. The other hospital, that in the Black Town, was, I regret to say, a contrast to all this. It is called the Choultry Poorhouse and Hospital. Here mute misery was written on every face. The patients had no bedclothes. The paupers lie on a mat on the floor. The portion set apart for lepers presented a most painful spectacle. Those who were in the early stages of the disease were all oiled, and were sitting on their haunches, rubbing and scratching themselves uneasily. Two young men, brothers, presented two different types of the disease. The one was not in the least disfigured; the other was frightfully so, the face being covered with blotches. But whatever the form it assumes, the disease is incurable. In its later stages ulcers appear, and eat off fingers and toes, features and limbs. Several poor wretches in great suffering were plastering their own sores, the materials for doing so being handed to them at the point of a long wand. It was a revolting sight. Most of the sufferers were natives, but a few knew English. To these I spoke a few words about the Lord Jesus and the lepers. It was all one could then do. Sickened and saddened, we next went through bare and comfortless wards for aged and infirm men and women, who here drag out the residue of their days of sorrow. There is also a foundling ward. The foundlings seemed to be in great wretchedness. In this In this hospital there were 250 patients, and the average was at that time ten deaths a week.

During the awful famine of 1878, there were nine thousand inmates, kept in a sort of camp, and an average of thirty deaths a day. The dead were burnt in heaps by contract daily. In this lazar house there were, when we visited it, 250 patients in hospital, 275 in the almshouses, 42 in the Rajah's Choultry, and 250 lepers; making a total of 817 souls. The horrors of that famine year are untold and untellable. As the waggons of grain passed from the shore to the railway, they had to be guarded with a strong military force; but the starving would risk blows of sabres and horses' hoofs to pierce the sacks, so that the grain might trickle out; and afterwards hundreds might be seen eagerly picking up the grains that had fallen upon the road. In punishment for this offence all who could be captured were driven into pens set up upon the shore, and confined there without food or water, and under the blaze of the sun, for four and twenty hours. Thus many perished. And this was not in remote districts, but at the head-quarters of British power, pomp and fashion in South India-in Madras itself! Inland they died of famine by hundreds. "I do not know," | said an eyewitness, a government dispenser of relief, "I do not know what we should have done without the dogs and vultures."

MYSORE.

No account of Madras would be complete without a reference to the Free Church College, which stands first among the educational establishments of Southern India. It was begun in 1837 by the well-known missionary Dr. Anderson,-whose name is in the south what the name of Dr. Duff is in the north, and within a year there were two hundred and seventy scholars. But then it was suddenly broken up by the agency of "that hydra-headed monster," Caste. Two Pariah boys were admitted, and the rest left. Dr. Anderson was entreated to dismiss the Pariah boys, but he was firm; and he gained the victory. By-and-by the youths returned; and Pariah and Brahman might be seen sitting side by side on the same bench, learning the same lessons. This was a blow given to caste that has been felt throughout Southern India, and felt to the present day. The numbers soon rose to five hundred; and ever since the college has maintained its position as the most efficient in Madras. It is a striking fact that the three Presidency cities in India-Madras, Calcutta, and Bombay-possess colleges organised by Scotchmen, which have accomplished greater results in producing an enlightened and well-trained body of natives in India than any other society, nay more, than the Government itself.

At Tirupetty, about fifty miles from Madras, there is an old temple much frequented by pilgrims, and very interesting to the student of Indian architecture. Pursuing the path up the hill, we go through three gopuras curiously carved. The hill is two thousand five hundred feet high, and has seven peaks or summits, on the last of which is the pagoda. Along the top are ruined houses, forming a quadrangle, with stone wall enclosure. A tower rises above these, and around is a broad belt of mango, tamarind, and sandal trees. It is said to be one of the oldest Dravidian temples.

West of Madras about sixty miles is Arcot, the famous town which Clive pounced upon in 1751, that he might relieve Trichinopoly. The garrison, seeing Clive's troops marching on steadily in the teeth of a thunderstorm, thought they were fire-proof, and abandoned the place. Entering it, Clive held the place during a fifty days' siege, and repelled the assaults of the Mohammedan troops. Arcot is now a large and prosperous town. Beyond lies MYSORE, one of the most flourishing of the native tributary states in India, occupying a table-land lofty, well-wooded and cool, where is the famous Seringapatam, now almost in ruins, and Bangalore, one of the healthiest cities in India, with a large British settlement. Scattered over the table-land are many huge isolated rocks called drugs, four thousand feet above the sea, and formerly used as fortresses. Coorg is a mountainous district, thickly-wooded, with extensive coffee and tea plantations. Worthiest of record is the name of a native, Samuel Flavel, a man of great originality, intellectual power and untiring zeal, who for twenty years (1826-1847), was instrumental in spreading Christianity with its civilising influences in Mysore.