felt the currents of European life. He is the Master of all. If Westerners and Easterners can only come close to Him, their suspicions and jealousies will melt away, and in their place we shall have mutual trust and respect and common efforts for the good of India and of the world.

The East needs the West, and the West needs the East. I believe that in the end they are not going to fight in India, but that they are going to cooperate. Just now jealousies are keen and distrust is strong. Yet the leaders of the great middle classes still look upon the British rulers as their friends. In general, so do native princes, the merchants and land owners, the outcastes, and many progressive leaders. The final solution of the whole hard problem of race relationship is to be found in Christian brotherhood. That is the Good News of Christ for troubled India today.

THAT THEY ALL MAY BE ONE

I used to think him heathen,

Just because-well, don't you see,
He didn't speak "God's English,"
And he didn't look like me;
He had a burnt complexion

Which is heathen, goodness knows;
He ate a heathen's rations,

And he wore a heathen's clothes. But there's a s'prising skinful

In that bloke from far away:

He fights like any Christian,

And I've caught the beggar pray;

He's kind to little kiddies,

And there's written in his eyes

The willingness to render

All a Christian's sacrifice.

Yes, you'd know him for a heathen
If you judged him by the hide;
But, bless you, he's my brother,
For he's just like me inside.

-Robert Freeman

III

A Village Wrestler

Most of the people of India belong to the respectable farmer castes. They live in her 720,000 villages where they cultivate their fields as their ancestors have done before them, generation after generation for a thousand years. They are hard-working folk, sturdy and withal attractive. Today, even these stolid villagers are being awakened from their age-long sleep. There is nothing more interesting in India than the way that these people are beginning to play a real part in the life of the land. Once I was suggesting to a city Brahman that the farmers had shrewd opinions which every leader must respect. "These villagers? What are they? Stones!" was his contemptuous reply. To their cost, the highcaste people of different parts of the country are finding that the middle classes are not stones. They are rousing themselves and intend to play their part in the new life of India. Indeed in the Madras Presidency the so-called non-Brahman party now controls the legislative council. The story which follows seeks to show how the ferment of new life is working among India's middle-class millions.

"Jai! jai! Appaji!

Jai! jai! Appaji!" The shouts of the crowd rose from the river-bed where the village fair was going on. Even a widow at work in the heart of the neighboring village of Nimbgaon listened eagerly.

1 Ap-pa-jee.

"Wah!" she exclaimed.

"Vithoba still smiles on

our village. Our Appaji has the strength of an elephant and the quickness of a tiger. Who can withstand him!" And she paused in the preparation of the evening meal. 'As the noise drew nearer, she left her little windowless cook-room, and carefully placed herself in a dark corner near the open door, where she could be somewhat shaded, yet could see all that went on in the street.

Soon the crowd of excited villagers came surging by. 'A cloud of dust rose around them. The gray, windowless walls of the mud houses that lined the narrow street on either side hemmed them in.

"Jai! jai! Appaji!" they called in rhythmic repetition. In the center of the crowd, borne aloft on the stout shoulders of some of his young fellow-villagers, was the object of all this attention the broadly smiling 'Appaji.

Around his almost bare body he had hastily thrown a dhoter, or long, thin, cotton cloth, which did not conceal the rippling muscles of his arms and chest. There was a ruddy look of health about his face; and the smile with which he looked around him was a most attractive combination of amused good nature and honest pride.

No wonder the women of the village smiled, and the boys went wild with excitement. For was not this their own Appaji Bhosle who had for years been famed as the best wrestler in all the region? And had he not just now, after three years of absence from all wrestling matches, defeated the champion of the rival village, Shingavi, in the toughest bout of his career, and that at their own yearly yatra, or religious fair?

Most conspicuous in all the crowd. his high, clear call

2

easily heard above the other shouts, was a ten-year-old boy who danced along beside the village hero. "Majya bapane tiala jinkile," he called. "My father beat him! My father beat him!" It was Jayavant, Appaji's elder child; and when the crowd reached the village resthouse and set Appaji down, the little boy leaped into his father's arms.

In the meantime, men had gone bustling about to prepare an impromptu celebration. From somewhere a sweet-smelling garland of roses and jasmine was brought and placed about Appaji's neck. Attar of roses was sprinkled on his uparana, or long scarf, and san dalwood paste was placed on the back of his hand.

Appaji's acknowledgment was brief and direct as befitted a sturdy Maratha farmer. "Friends, I thank you for honoring me thus. I am glad that by the help of God I was able to uphold the honor of our village. As you all know, I have been giving much time lately to the Satya Shodak Samaj 3—The Society of the Search for Truth. We aim to bring back the ancient glory of the Maratha name. No need to remind you how our Shivaji and our other heroes conquered much of India. They had Tukaram and Ramdas, the saints, as well as Shivaji, the warrior, in those days.

"If we want to regain our ancient name, we must keep up our ancient sports; but we too must once more worship God as Shivaji did,—and we must send our boys to school. How else can we free ourselves from our slavery to the clever Brahman officials and the slippery money lender? I tell you that the English Sirkar (Government) means well by us. It is the under offi3 Suttyă Shodăk Sum-māj.

2 Jǎy-vunt.