Christmas Day of 1841, when the persecution was at its height, will long be remembered at the village of Pragasapuram; for there, on that day, no fewer than one hundred and nine persons publicly showed they were neither afraid nor ashamed to profess the faith of Christ crucified, and received the sign of adoption into the family of God.*

Thus, my dear Lucy, as in the times of the apostles, the efforts of God's enemies against His Church, have "fallen out rather to the furtherance of the Gospel." I remain,

Yours affectionately,

S. T.

* The congregation in this village is in a very encouraging state; there are 600 persons belonging to it, of whom sixty-three are communicants.

81

LETTER VIII.

MY DEAR LUCY,

THE Missionaries in Tinnevelly generally pass eight or ten days in every month among the different villages in their districts, but after the account I have given you of the number each Missionary has under his care,* you will not be surprised that few of the congregations are visited by them more than three or four times in the year, and the more distant ones not oftener than once or twice.

The care of the people during the intermediate time is entrusted to the native Catechists, two of whom are sometimes appointed to one of the larger villages, while if the number of Christians or inquirers is small, one Catechist often has the superintendence of several congregations. Schools also are established to as great an extent as funds or teachers can be found.

Each Missionary assembles the Catechists and schoolmasters of his own district once a month, to hear their report of their several charges, to examine into their own progress, to read with them and instruct them, and to make arrangements for the ensuing month. They usually spend from the

* See Letter 6.

G

Saturday till the Tuesday in this manner, and the administration of the Lord's Supper on the Sunday, strengthens the bond of union among those who spiritually partake of it.

This plan is, as you will suppose, far from being properly efficient, yet with the present small number of Missionaries, it is probably the best that can be adopted.

And now I must invite you to accompany the Missionary on one of his visits to a distant village, and to participate in some degree in his feelings of love, and joy, and hope, as well as of sorrow and disappointment.

We will suppose ourselves in one of the Southern districts, where, as I have already told you, the country is extremely flat, and a considerable part of it is covered with extensive palmyra groves, among which are scattered the numerous Shânar villages. The roads or rather wide paths that lead from one place to another, are sometimes irregular openings cut through a thick wood of natural growth, and sometimes pass through regular lines of trees planted by the hand of man.

A remarkable feature in this part of the country, especially towards the coast, is the occasional occurrence of what are called "thairies," or plains of barren sand in the very midst of a palmyra forest. As you ride along, you observe no symptom of

approaching barrenness, except perhaps that the trees may be rather lower and less vigorous in their growth, till you suddenly find yourself on the edge of one of these plains, or rather succession of low sand hills, and after riding and walking (for in some parts it is not safe to ride) three or four miles across it, it as suddenly ceases, and you again find yourself among the palmyras. These thairies appear to be caused by violent eddies of wind, ploughing the sand into deep furrows, or collecting it into hillocks; though why these eddies should occur in these particular spots is still unexplained. They are supposed to be of recent formation, for sometimes a strong wind has, as it swept along, laid bare the household implements and vessels of some former inhabitants, giving, it is to be feared, too sure a proof of the destruction of human habitations. There is reason to think they are gradually extending; and fears are entertained lest one village in particular, that stands on the edge of one of them, should shortly share the fate of those already buried.

But we will leave these spots of desolation and pursue our journey. Should the friend we are travelling with doubt if he has taken the right direction, and ask any of the people we may meet, the way to such and such a place, you will be surprised at the terms in which the answer is given. Instead of bidding you to turn to the right or to the left, as we

should do in England, they will tell you to go towards the South, or towards the North, or to bear off towards the East, &c.; and so general is this reference to the points of the compass, that I have been told by a friend who has often visited the schools, that if one boy wishes another to move a little one way or the other, he always uses the expression, North, South, East, and West.

Perhaps if it is the spring or summer, we may be startled as we draw near the village, by an unexpected sound of welcome high above our heads, and looking up we may see a man at the top of some tall palmyra, bidding us "Good day," and inviting us to a morning draught of "Puthaneer." We cannot

please him better than by accepting his simple courtesy, and in a shorter time than I can write it, he will have descended the tree, bringing with him a leaf which is to serve us for a cup. Gathering together the long points of the outer edge, and giving them a peculiar twist, he in a moment has made a little boat, into which he pours the puthaneer, and both natives and Europeans agree, that it is never so refreshing as when thus fresh from the tree, and drunk from one of these leafen vessels.

As you draw still nearer the place of your destination, you will most likely hear a drum, for if the people know of the intended visit, they will have sent out a boy to watch the Missionary's approach,