gods. In greeting a friend, he accosts him in | are performed in the name of one or more the name of a deity. In a letter on business, deities." or on any other matter, the first word he invariably writes is the name of a god. Should he propose an engagement of importance, he first inquires the pleasure of the idol, and a lucky day for observing it. At his birth, his horoscope is cast; when he is ill, the gods must be propitiated; when he is bereaved, the idol must be remembered; at his death, his funeral rites The problem of Christian missions in India is a very perplexing one. There are said to be 140,000 native Christians in that country. More than 33,000 boys and 8000 girls receive a Christian education at mission schools. Suttee, infanticide, self-tortures, and immolations at idol-festivals have been done away. Upward of 3,000,000 Hindus and over 90,000 Mohammedans attend Government schools, and are thus brought under the influence of European ideas. It is by these indirect means rather than by the direct preaching of the Gospel that any victory has been gained over Hinduism by Christianity. Judged merely by external appearances, Hinduism was never so flourishing as it is now. In Northern India the native merchants have filled Benares and other cities with new and costly shrines; the number of temples and idols has prodigiously increased. The revival of prosperity under the English rule has added something of external strength to the ancient idolatry. But this attempt to continue in existence what can not endure by its inherent vitality is spasmodic, and a token of weakness rather than of real strength. Gradually the entire system is being undermined; even Brahmans are beginning to reject what they have hitherto cherished. In the new era thus promised Benares will continue to be in the future what she has been in the past—the religious centre of India. W A SIN OF OMISSION. HEN Oliver Ferris met Miss Thornivale at Winnipiseogee some summers ago he wondered why it was that, having seen her for several previous winter seasons in society, it had never occurred to him to admire her, or entertain any emotion whatever concerning her. This first struck him as he observed her stepping into a carriage bound for Red Hill; he had been invited to join the party, and had indolently declined; he had seen Red Hill till he was tired of the sight, of cloud-spell and water-scape; but suddenly, as he looked at Miss Thornivale, a mist seemed to strip off from before his vision, and made it appear the veriest waste of time to exist out of her presence for the remainder of the day. "Allan," said he, to a very blonde young man, who was arranging affairs and had chosen his own seat beside Miss Thornivale-" Allan, is there room for one? I've reconsidered." "If there isn't we'll enlarge our boundaries rather than leave you out in the cold. There, you're not crowded, Miss Thornivale ?" And then the driver whipped up his horses, and Miss Thornivale looked across Allan's blonde mustache and asked Mr. Ferris had he ever seen Red Hill? It was her first season upon the lake and among the mountains, and she had never enjoyed any thing so heartily. "Except the last fashion-plate," interpolated Allan, looking down upon her with an indulgent smile in his great aqua-marine eyes, which Ferris couldn't help admitting were handsome enough to drive man or woman mad. "Oh, Mr. Allan," she replied; "you know that I soar above the weaknesses of the vulgar herd, ignore fashion-plates, and design my own bonnets." "Every Woman her own Bonnet-Maker, or Millinery Made Easy," said Ferris. “I should like to see you exercise your vocation, Miss Thornivale." "You think that seeing is believing? Very well. I want an apprentice. I am going to make a bonnet for a little friend of mine this week, and you shall assist." "Which means, You shall thread the needles and hold the silk," suggested Allan. "That is as far as I've been initiated." "Then you, too, have assisted at the awful rite?" 66 Come, Messrs. Allan and Ferris," cried one of the damsels in the further seat, "this is not appropriate conversation for the occasion. If you don't conduct yourselves seriously the hills will come down upon you with a thunder-storm." "Don't mention a storm," said Miss Thornivale." "But imagine Red Hill in one, all crowned with forked lightnings and swathed in purple thunder-clouds and resonant with voices of the upper air." "Mr. Allan, I believe you would enjoy Purgatory.' "Which is to say that, like the monk Basle, I should make a Heaven of Hell? Thank you, Miss Thornivale; but I don't see how it could be, unless I took you with me.” "I might consent to go if you would insure me against thunder-storms." "You would find a strong odor of brimstone, I fear," laughed Ferris, "which might prove too suggestive for comfort. But truly, Miss Thornivale, you do not dislike a thunder-storm? I think there is nothing finer than that passage in Browning descriptive of being struck by lightning: "Where you heard thunder and I saw flame, Another heard God call his name!" It "Oh, Mr. Ferris, you make me shudder. Dislike is a weak word for the sensation. blights the summer for me; I lose control of my nerves. Why, you would never know me!" "I should be exceedingly sorry at that result. I sincerely hope that thunder-storms will keep their distance, if the effects are going to be so disagreeable." "There, you are laughing at me; I won't make you any more confidences. Mr. Allan, is that Red Hill ?” plainly see love sleeping in the crystal depths, and anon rising to dazzle the beholder. If he could only dazzle Miss Thornivale somewhat, if he could embarrass her gaze, cause her lids to droop beneath his too earnest air, that were something a pledge of future triumphs. But Miss Thornivale, who understood every thing that was said to her, allowed herself to regard him an instant, with that indifference which is so tantalizing, which promises so little, but is sometimes the prelude to so much; and then her glance wandered among the hills with their heavy shadows and cloud-caps. She was thinking, perhaps, of those weary winter soirées to which her aunt had carried her night after night, when the day's toil was already heavy upon her, in order that she might in time secure a suitable parti, who would overlook her want of dower in consideration of her hazel eyes and docile temper. She was recalling those weary, hungry nights when she had played wall-flower to perfection, and had yawned behind her fan, and wished with all her girlish heart that some one would take pity upon her and ask her to join the quadrille, so she too might swing on this indolent pulse of music, and laugh and grow gay and careless with the rest. "Jove!" said Allan, aside, "if you would listen like that I would serenade you every night of my life." "But I wouldn't, you know. I like to sleep o' nights." Allan fetched a sigh from some remote region at this sally. "You're not in the least bit romantic, Miss Thornivale." "I'm afraid not," she returned, laughing. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but that quality was left out of my composition. It is a long way to Red Hill, don't you think so?" "Are you tired, Miss Thornivale ?" asked Ferris. "Not at all; but when there is a prospect before one impatience is natural. Besides, there's luncheon, you know." "No, indeed, I didn't. I did not know what the gods had provided for me. I was going away to-day, and missed the boat. That is what I call destiny." "Then are you a fatalist, Mr. Ferris ?" "To a certain extent-after the event. It's patent that I was fated to go to Red Hill with you to-day. I wish Fate would always be so indulgent.' And Mr. Ferris honored Miss Thornivale And turning over these things in a sens-with another of his supreme glances, which few itive mind, she remembered that Mr. Ferris had been one of those who tossed her a civil word or two and then forgot her-till just this minute. "Oh, dinna ye mind, young man,' said she, The old song rose to her lips instinctively. "Apropos," whispered Allan, while the driver called to his horses, "you must confess that it would be a charming name-Barbara Allan; why not wear it, Miss Thornivale ?" This assuredly was not in her mind. She had known for some time that Allan was ready to fall at her feet; but she did not care to see him there. She was not one to whom such things were a triumph. She remembered once to have read that there is a moment of extreme susceptibility in the lives of most young girls, when the first lover that presents himself is believed to be the ideal realized; but in the mean time, if the lover delays, if he fails to recognize the golden moment, allows it to pass, it passes forever; the young heart suspects its impulses, and henceforth loves only à la raison. And she fancied herself already to have arrived at that adamantine period. There was no need to answer Mr. Allan, such speeches being everyday affairs; and, moreover, Mr. Ferris had taken up the clew and was apostrophizing Scottish ballads with enthusiasm. Mr. Ferris possessed a brilliant talent when he chose to exert himself, and on this particu women had failed to understand, which this woman recognized and unconsciously welcomed, although she drooped ever so little beneath its light and warmth. So the day that promised little, in one aspect, redeemed itself a thousandfold. Red Hill was in all its glory. Years after, when Barbara Thornivale-before she had dropped the Thornivale-looked backward, it loomed upon her horizon like some Mount of Transfiguration. The very odors that blew across their path that day, the birds that thrilled the air, the clouds that flecked the heavens, the heavy shadows of the hill-sides, all rose up before her mental vision, glorified by the sheen of two brown eyes, which gilded the landscape and brimmed the lake with beauties not of their own. Not that she submitted to the spell at once; it was only after many weeks that she awoke in chains, to realize that this first drive had furnished the first link-the fatal startingpoint, which none recognizes at the beginning, which every body accuses after the event. It rained on the following day, a warm, continuous rain, that lashed the pane and clattered on the veranda and blurred all the outlines of the hills. "How provoking!" said Belle Brewer; "here's a whole day out of our pleasuring." "I don't see that," objected Mr. Ferris. "I am just as happy to-day as yesterday. Eh, Miss Thornivale ?" "The deuce you are!" said Allan, under his lar occasion he did choose so to do; he illus-breath and bending over Barbara's chair. "But trated his enthusiasm with snatches of Border you are going to be gammoned, Mr. Ferris." melodies, sung with fine voice and feeling, and "I can endure it, so long as the victor is Miss heightened as to effect by a face that expressed Thornivale.” more than either air or words. VOL. XXXVIII.—No. 228.—49 "Even to be gammoned by Barbara has its charms," said Belle, lounging away to the pi- | up here like the echo of a nightingale, and the ano. Allan followed too, directly. Music hath power to soothe the savage mind, it is said; and Allan's mind was in a sort of barbarous state that needed enlightenment of some kind. So he permitted himself to accompany Miss Brewer's weak soprano with his deep tones, which Barbara had once likened to the music of surf on the beach, liquid and soul-stirring. He could have wished to reach her soul now and drift it out of present anchorage, if it might be. Therefore he turned page after page, till Miss Brewer began to believe in her own attractions, and consider the sensation she would produce in her world should she return to the city in the rôle of the future Mrs. Thorold Allan. But Allan was thinking of far different things. He remembered once to have drawn Barbara to his side by that powerful voice of his; he had seen her unable to resist its persuasive accents; for a whole hour she had turned a deaf ear to all else, and had hung helplessly upon his tones, swayed by his breath, wrought upon by his will. In that hour he had begun to live-to live in the most opulent sense of the word-to feel the high tides of love drown out all selfishness. He had hardly counted that they might strand him at length. And so he sung on, as the sirens sing, ⚫confident, but humbly confident. He was just in the sweetest of Adelaide, where the "nightingales keep fluting," when he chanced to turn his head and take in the sweep of the room. There was not a soul present but Miss Brewer and himself! "I believe I've sung myself hoarse," he said then, closing the music-book and accompanying the action with one of his deep sighs. "It's a divine song, but-" He did not say "but there's no one to listen," as he just escaped saying; but he looked down into Miss Brewer's eyes without at all seeing them, seeing only Barbara's; and consequently his own wore a look reproachful and tender, which was very hard to understand, but very sweet to this young lady to receive. She answered him with a little sigh of her own. "You are tired out, too, with the effort, Miss Brewer; allow me to prescribe a siesta," he said. "I've found it perfect magic for overtasked vocality." He wasn't thinking about her needs much, he merely wished to be at liberty to think of Barbara; and after Miss Brewer had tripped up stairs, Allan followed in search of his hat, meaning to take a turn in the bowling-alley, in order, legitimately, to give vent to his feelings. But just there, in the upper hall, he blundered upon Barbara and Ferris. "Oh, why did you leave off?" she asked, looking up brightly from her netting. "I was enjoying it so much!" "Yes, you seem to be," he returned, smiling significantly. "Oh, but it was delicious where the 'Nachtigallen flöten,'" she sang in answer; "it came rain played the saddest interlude. I was angry when you broke off so abruptly." "I am gratified to be able to excite a passion in you," he murmured. "I should like to see you angry, Miss Thornivale," said Ferris. "I don't believe you would like the effect, Mr. Ferris." "I should like to see the fire leap into your eyes and consume your smile," he continued. "Oh, Mr. Ferris, you are trying to make mo angry, I believe." Then to Allan: "We came out here because the light, what there is of it, is stronger here than down there-at least Mr. Ferris thought so; and he is sketching my profile, you see, and wants all the light which this great open door admits." "An unfortunate day for such an enterprise, Ferris. Why didn't you wait for the sun?" "Because this is not a sun-picture. And I have found it wise, my friend, never to let your opportunity slip, even though it is convoyed by rainy weather." "What a Solomon!" laughed Barbara. "Where now?" as Allan moved off. If Barbara showed the least bit of a flirt, it was only from sheer compassion, which would not allow her to wound another's feelings, or cause him to imagine himself de trop; though, to tell the truth, she had really been enjoying the sweet heart-throbs of Adelaide, the drip of rain on the balcony, above all the tête-à-tête with Mr. Ferris, more than she would have been able to realize except for Allan's interruption; therefore it was the acme of good-nature for her to invite him to continue the interruption; and the poor fellow wasn't a bit too wise to throw up the idea of bowling, and to take a stool at the feet of his love. And, sitting there, he did his best to vanquish his rival, whose pencil was busily stealing the semblance of Barbara's sweet features-to outflank him and steal away her heart. He was as gay and erratic as spring weather, coruscating with wit and*repartee, and withal watchful and critical, if so be his case had any favorable features, if she inclined to him one atom less than before Ferris illuminated the scene. But he might as well have watched a blade of grass to see it grow. Miss Thornivale knew how to keep her feelings in reserve without dissembling. In fact, there was nothing to dissemble about. She had found Mr. Ferris fascinating, like the pages of a romance, from which it is difficult to withdraw one's self; she' had found him attentive to her every thought, which was much more delightful than any page of any printed romance whatsoever; but she had said to herself that presently there would be an invoice of visitors from the mountains and the cities, and all this would cease; and there would be only Allan to see that she did not stand too long in the dew, to show her the finest points in the landscape; only Allan, by whom she suffered herself to be amused, so long as he left love out of the entertainment-a subject which she was not prepared to discuss with him just then. “Miss Thornivale has so long been a feature of your social landscape, so to speak, I wonder you have not attempted her before," said Mr. Allan, rather ambiguously. lingeringly in the direction of the bowling-alley. I am afraid that he was remote from Barbara's thoughts at that moment: the wheels of fortune had made a mighty revolution, and distanced all his hopes. They spent a delightfully tiresome hour among the balls and pins, while Mr. Ferris "Dear me," cried Barbara; "I should think kept the scores and made the ten-strikes, and I belonged to inanimate nature!" "The mountain air," said Ferris, "inspires one to great performances—intoxicates, in fact, like hasheesh." "Are you certain it's the air, Ferris ?" "I don't know; I only offer that as a theory. I haven't staid to define the motive power. There"-throwing down his pencil-"it's too dark to see." "I thought inspiration didn't need sightworked by faith; eh, Barbara ?". "I'm afraid I never was inspired. But now that I'm not necessary here I'll go look up Belle." "Don't run away with that idea," laughed Ferris. "You can't picture our needs in the It's a "It couldn't spell out half of them. silk purse, and when it is done you shall have it, if you will, and decipher all its lore. I promise it will take you a lifetime." "A lifetime well spent. Like the alchemists, I shall be looking for gold-" "A very appropriate place: I hope you will find it." "Don't interrupt me. I was going to say something fine about finding something better than gold. And will you really give it to me? It will be better than the purse of Fortunatus. It's a segment of a rainbow-the bow of promise, Miss Thornivale." "I shall expect a sonnet upon it after that." And then she wound up her balls of silk and disappeared. A matter of business called Mr. Allan away the following week, greatly to his chagrin. Mr. Ferris, Barbara, and Belle bore him company down to the boat. He told Barbara to take good care of herself during his absence, and Ferris agreed to relieve his mind on that score, while Belle Brewer volunteered to see that there was no mischief brewed, and to keep a diary of the important occurrences for his private delectation. Allan smiled grimly at her threat, foreseeing that the important events would not be likely to come under her notice, or to be such as she would consider striking. So the steamer's bell rung, the wheel made a revolution, and he felt himself already leagues away from Barbara, as he watched them turn away and move "I would go away myself if it would affect you, if you would be miserable about it." "Of course I should. We need you to keep the score." "If that's the case, I sha'n't go till I'm of more importance to you. Ah, Miss Brewer, a spare? That's odd, indeed." "There's no such a thing as pleasing you," said Barbara. "You might spare us, sometimes." "Isn't there? Have you ever tried pleasing me?" "Certainly not; I only try to please myself." "And no one else ?" "Why should I try to please any one else?" "Why should you, indeed? Why should the rose try to be sweet, when she is sweet without the effort ?" "It seems to me that we are a great way off the track." "I beg pardons, it's only your ball that's off the track." "Well, it's hard to keep this ball rolling, I'm sure. Aren't we most through, Mr. Ferris? I'm worn out with hope deferred." "Shall I order a palanquin to carry you up to the house?" "Yes, you may; and four natives wearing scarlet turbans with gold fringes and camel'shair draperies." "Will not one slave answer you? One with the devotion of ten? A slave without the name, Miss Thornivale?" |