did. If I returned the honor thus offered me, the whole company would

clap their hands, ridicule me, and report it to my mother and other high-caste relations. I realized in a measure how our Master had been troubled by the cunning Jews who now came to gainsay his words; then rebuked him for eating with the low castes, &c. One night while we were discussing religious topics, (as they were wont to do, in order to get from me my free thought that they might accuse me of infidelity,) one asked, “Joguth, suppose you wanted some advice in relation to religious matters, and the son of the washerman, B----, was fully able to give it to you, would you go to him or to a priest?” Although I knew the craft underlying the question, still I answered that, “If I can find pure gold in a ditch close by my house, I would not go to Australia for it.” The curious brother sprung up from his seat and hurled anathemas on my head, saying I was the ruin of our family, a shame to my caste, and an unworthy son to my father; that I would soon wear a coat and hat, eat cows and hogs, and drink wine, etc. Such disagreeable experiences, frequently visited upon me with ridicule and contempt, gave me courage and wisdom. I applied the wisdom of serpents and the innocence of a dove, as far as I possibly could, in my encounters with those fault-seeking brethren. Under such circumstances _peace_ seemed as if it would desert me; but I retained its sacred influence in my heart, and longed for that peace which the world cannot give nor take away. Notwithstanding all these discouraging surroundings I determined to be “about my Father’s business,” to go to the people and speak to them kindly what I believed would promote their happiness in life here and hereafter. Besides speaking to those within my reach in my daily walks in life, I sought as places of my resort, the workshops of some goldsmiths and weavers. These men I found very pleasant, possessed of little education, but with a great deal of intelligence, able to conduct a discussion upon high themes, and to comprehend the best writings of the country. I found them, too, very familiar with the Hindoo legendary works. Every afternoon and evening almost, half a dozen men would assemble there, and one of the party would read aloud from a religious book. But their attachment to the gods and their legends did not hinder my going to them; on the contrary they always used to talk with me upon religious and moral topics. By and by I sought acquaintance with a party of young rowdies belonging to several castes. Almost all of them drank wine, and frequented disreputable places for pleasure and music. Nowhere did I enter with such an earnestness to do good as here. I thought this was the true harvest to be gathered, and I must work in it. Modesty stops my pen in writing about the character I exhibited among them, but it is enough to say that love and perseverance characterized my labor here. The young men belonging to my own caste remonstrated with me, protesting that instead of doing any good among these corrupted low castes, I should surely bring ruin upon myself, and that my course was foolish. To these I did not hesitate to repeat distinctly the words of Christ, to the effect, that the sick people want medicine, but the healthy ones do not.

In course of time I found myself entirely deserted by my former associates,--the friends who lived in the same quarter with me. In fact, their animosity, arising from my not joining them in their excursions for pleasure and sporting, grew so great that very few would favor me with a smile or a word. One afternoon, as I was coming home from Hourah, I met a dozen of them playing Mou machie, or beehive. One of them inquired of me where I had been, and I answered in a low voice and slowly, for I was very tired then, having had to walk home seven miles without dinner. This amused them exceedingly, and each of them attempted to surpass his comrades in imitating my voice.

These brethren reported to my mother all about my visits to the low castes, my teaching them Christian doctrines, etc., and thereby made her doubly miserable. Sometimes she would not eat anything, would weep for hours, and throw away my books. “Joguth, I cannot bear all these jokes and hard words; they complain of your teaching their children not to fear gods, respect Brahmuns, etc. Being a Brahmun, you mix with low castes. I am afraid you will sit at dinner with them some time, as you say ‘caste is nothing.’ O Joguth, has Jom (or death) forgotten your house?”

Although I felt quite sure that the gods of my country are mere imaginary deities, or some ancient heroes deified after death, still I could not readily free my mind from the fear and respect I bore for them from my infancy. But something must be done, some measure must be taken to make an experiment of their power, so that I need bend before their images no longer. An old anecdote coming vividly to my mind, seemed to discourage me for a while. It was this. Nearly a couple of years before I had been to worship the idols belonging to a widow. It was a winter evening, and carelessly I had forgotten to cover them with their warm clothes. Next day I was told by that widow of the great crime I had done, and I felt much frightened to see the images suffering in cold. She said she retired late, as usual, and notwithstanding a quantity of clothes on her back she felt chilly. Not knowing the reason of such an unusual experience, she came to the closet and found the idols laying unprotected in the cold! Now a great fear filled my heart at the thought that, if owing to my carelessness, the innocent woman suffered, how much more will I have to suffer if I neglect the gods forever. But upon consideration that God is mightier than all, that if we come unto him for protection, no god, no spirit, can hurt us in the least, I grew strong. I would not have gone so far as to touch irreverently the idols, had it not been to see whether there is any consciousness in them; because I had been taught to believe that they are living beings. So, one by one, I tried the strength of the idols that fell within my reach, in treating them with less care. Thus, one day while I was bringing down the idols from a high place, like a mantelpiece, the heaviest of them fell down on the floor, making a loud noise thereby. Hastily I picked it up, examined whether any damage had been done or not, and washed it as usual. At first, I thought I would not worship it in the prescribed ways; but, fearing it would be too much for the first time, I thought it prudent to worship it as usual. Thus privately taking steps too bold, too improper for a Hindoo to venture, I determined to see the end. During the time of Shundhas I would not repeat the creed-like formula, but simply say Gayothrie several times, because the latter is a prayer to an invisible, immortal Creator. My mother watched my movements for a while, and inquired whether I had forgotten my Shundhas, saying that I used to repeat them in an hour, but that I now finished in ten minutes! I told her I remembered them all. But she would not believe it, and called my older brother to examine me, which he did to his entire satisfaction. He told her I knew them so well that it did not take me a long time to repeat them.

To a town on the other side of the Ganges I had to go occasionally to worship idols. During the holidays I was sent by my mother there to worship the goddess of Learning. I did not repeat any prayer. I sat down before the idol, and scattered flowers in the usual way. The matron said, “I wonder how you could perform this worship in so short time!” I felt embarrassed, and sitting before the idol in the next house, spent more time in reciting slowly my English lessons learned long ago,--such as “The English Grammar is the art of speaking and writing the English language correctly.” “The Caspian sea or lake is surrounded by Russia, Tartary, and Persia.” “A straight line that divides a circle in two equal parts is called its diameter,” etc., and no complaint was made then. I am fully aware I did a great many things at this stage of my experience which certainly wore a double aspect,--not daring to let these changes in my faith be known to my friends, and at the same time not wishing to follow what I conceived to be superstition. Finding me going daily toward the wrong way, as it seemed to my dear mother, she determined to commit me to the charge of our family Gooroo, or spiritual guide, and to put his yoke on my neck! This I resisted with my indifference, argument, and obstinacy, because the life under Gooroo is indeed a life of foolishness. The Gooroo selects from the hosts of gods a certain one for his disciple,--the name and the nature of which he is to hide from the world and worship it as his own. Again, what is worse still, he is to regard the Gooroo as identical with his god, to worship him and do homage unto him, just as he would to his God himself! When he visits the family every member prostrates before him, and worships him. I hated to do that for three reasons,--first, that since I had lost my faith and loyalty to the very gods, I could not have any regard for a man whose only office was to bind me into slavery unto him and the gods; secondly, I felt satisfied with that unerring, unselfish Teacher who said, “Call no man thy master,” etc., “I seek not mine own glory,” “Why callest thou me good?” etc.; and hence, thirdly, I believed that the Gooroo and myself were walking on the same road, side by side, so that neither ought to gain a mastery over the other. But my good mother, like all other Hindoos, felt otherwise. She sincerely believed that the influence of Oopodesh, or regeneration by the hands of the Gooroo, would fill my heart with new grace from _Istdele_ (the god selected by the Gooroo).

She sent for him, and he came to our house to convert me, not by reasoning to the truth, but by the pretended majesty of his rank,--by his appeals to the Hindoo customs,--unto gross superstition, which, with prayers and tears I was trying to get rid of. At first I made excuses, saying, “Let him give ‘montra’ (sacred words) to my oldest brother; I am young, so there is no hurry about it now,” etc. But I knew full well the purpose of my mother,--that she was anxious to chain _me_, who was about to fly away from the gods! She said it would look well to have the two brothers take _montra_ together--that it would cost less, etc. More than six times the day for our “Oopodesh” had been fixed, but I was where I was, or perhaps a little “higher.” Sometimes, seeing that man coming to our house, from a distance, I would immediately go to some friends and remain there until he had gone home. My mother would follow my track now and then and bring me to him, and plead for my indifference! One afternoon I was sleeping in my room, and he came and began to talk to my mother. I determined not to see him (as the rule would require me to prostrate myself before him, which I hated to do). I thought I would go out by the back door, and thereby escape the degradation of worshipping a man for the present, if not the rebukes of my mother. But she came into my room ere I had time to put my theory into practice, saying, “Joguth! Joguth! there is Gooroo, who wants to see you.” I tried vainly to keep still and pay no heed to her, as if I was in a profound sleep! She whispered into my ear, “Do not insult the Gooroo--it is an unpardonable sin on your part, Joguth. His look of displeasure will surely burn you to death,” etc. At last, finding her too urgent, I declared openly that I had got the “montras” from a Teacher, and that I did not want any other than these, “The Lord our God is one Lord,” or “Om aka meb ’ŏ the ti-ung,” “There is _one_ God without a second.” This did not satisfy her; although my constant indifference to the Gooroo frightened him so he never dared to raise the question again, yet my mother, perhaps, still hopes that I might yield, for she _cannot_ conceive how I could do otherwise.

Thus troubled at home and ridiculed abroad, I longed for a free, genial atmosphere. The very gentleness I wished to display at home, the kindness to the low castes, brought ridicule upon me, and many times I went to secluded places to cry to my Father and my God. Providentially I had been acquainted with Baboo C. C. S., a native convert to Christianity, and an energetic, highly-educated young man; but the community hated me _more_ for this reason. As, owing to the opposition and vigilance of my friends, I could not find a chance to study the New Testament, I resorted to the memoirs of noble men and women for Christianity. The life of Mrs. Mundey, the missionary to India, interested me very much; the “Pilgrim’s Progress,” “Chambers’s Biographies,” etc., gave me ample instruction. Indeed, I seemed to find Christian truth almost everywhere,--in grammars, geographies, histories, in the world around, and in the heaven above.

Through an earnest search I gathered a few friends who, though they did not quite dare to forsake the gods and to reject the caste prejudices, still promised a happy result in future. But none of these were my nearest neighbors, so that I could go to them and spend a little time in a pleasant way.

To see whether our caste feelings were gone or not we proposed an experiment--and as it would not be possible to take a meal in a low caste’s house because of the household, we resolved to cook some food privately, and see what we could do. Accordingly, on a rainy evening, we three, one a young farmer, a physician, and myself a Brahmun, cooked some Khichwry (rice and a kind of peas highly seasoned with spice). I could not help in the cooking, being entirely unacquainted with the process, but our farmer friend, I think, was a “pretty good cook.” To rise to the climax of the freedom so privately sought, I consulted with some trustworthy and religious brethren, who hailed the enterprise with joyous hearts. We used to meet in a field, and, on account of the ground being wet, to spread some leaves over it, and thereby made quite soft, comfortable seats. We did not know then what particular form of prayer to offer to God, so I suggested to our brethren that we would offer child’s prayers--bring all our wants, both temporal and spiritual, before the throne of grace in perfect trust, and let Him give or deny unto us whatever he pleased. So we prayed that the good Father would cure our headaches, fevers, etc., that he would make us good, honest, learned men.

This novel gathering in the field aroused the curiosity of the people, who feared we should some day become very troublesome to the community. The report reached almost every ear, and we were taken for adulterers, or what is worse still, “_Kistans_” (Christians). This latter charge was brought especially on account of _my_ being connected with the party. But we did not feel discouraged, for we believed that to make our thanks and wants known to our good Father, we need not go here or there, close our eyes or open them, kneel down or stand on our feet, utter words or observe silence, for the Object of our worship is a Spirit, that fills the universe with his presence, and who knows all, inspects all, loves all his creatures. Still man is a social creature,--he wants advice, guidance, and help from others,--he improves himself by others’ example. This change of my religious ideas gave me one singular feeling: love for man in general, or in other words, love for the low castes wherever they could be found.

Nothing pleased me more than a crowd of men in whose faces, eyes, and movements we distinctly read the wisdom, love, and spirit of God. So I wished very much to be with them, especially for religious purposes; but my singular views of religion drove them away. In Calcutta there are Christian churches where I could not attend, much as I desired to do so. On Sunday, on my way to or from my friends in the city, I would stand in a street on which a church is placed, watch the people as they entered in, and eagerly lend my ears to the voices that were sending up to the throne of grace the praises and songs. Of course I could not stand long there, the bustling noise of the carriage-wheels would drown the joyous voices, and so I reluctantly would direct my steps homeward, uttering, “Blessed is the place where God is worshipped in spirit!” O Father! though my countrymen worship thee through idols and pictures, through forms and ceremonies, I rejoice to think that others adore thee in spirit! A young Brahmun sold me six English books which he had bought at a public auction in Calcutta. One was the “Memoir of Mrs. Mundey,” two were books of Common Prayer, and the rest were novels. My soul swam in ecstasy when I found that almost on every page the prayers begin with “Our Father,” “Most Gracious God,” “O God, our Father!” etc. Reading them earnestly, reflecting on the sweet, fervent, childlike expression of the heart therein, my joy knew no bounds. I made a present of one Prayer-Book to a Brahmun friend, and reserved the other for my own edification. I must confess, however, that the closing lines of the prayers, such as “in the name of our Saviour,” “through Jesus Christ our Lord,” etc., filled my heart with confusion. I believed God is unbounded love in his very nature,--gives his blessings to his children before they know to ask for them. Why then should I implore his mercy in the name of Christ? In the Hindoo prayers I had found such conditions. I had been taught to expect blessings from a deity through a second or third hand, so I feared these expressions in the Prayer-Books might have the same meaning. In the heat of enthusiasm at my freedom from superstition--with a desire to come to God directly, I took my pencil and cancelled these lines. By and by I came to the Litanies, where I met with “Glory to God the Son, and to God the Holy Ghost,” etc. Who can these Gods be? inquired I of myself. What book is this that teaches us to worship them? Let me see; is it a Christian Prayer-Book that I have bought, or what? Spending a few days in doubt and confusion I sought my friend to whom I had given a Common Prayer-Book, and to my utter surprise found him troubled likewise. He had marked out several passages in that book which ascribe glory and worship to God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, etc., which he declared foreign to the New Testament doctrine. We examined carefully some of the leading places in the New Testament the second time, and found no such thing as glory to the Son there. The Son says he did not come to seek his “own glory.” When the disciples desired him to teach them to pray, he said, “After this manner pray ye, Our Father which art in heaven,” etc. Again, the very idea of worshipping “God the Son,” and “God the Spirit,” seemed to us quite amusing if not quite _new_, for we were accustomed to worship god the son, god the nephew, goddess the niece, etc., while Hindoos in faith. So we thought we would not worship these extra gods of the Prayer-Book, however moderate their number is. It seemed absurd to us to offer supreme homage to a person subject to hunger, thirst, weakness, sorrows, death, etc., and who worshipped the same God with his disciples, and who craved for sweet communion with his God,--to lay before him all his soul’s deepest longings. Christ, I read in the Gospels, often sought mountain-tops, or river-sides, away from the little band, to spend hours in prayer.

Not being able to remain in this state of suspense any longer, I went to a clergyman and informed him of my sincere desire to know the God of whom Christ is the “Beloved Son.” Very kindly he offered me his cordial hands, introduced me to his library, and promised me his blessing every way. At his request that I would attend the morning services in his church, which were held at seven, I rose early and walked six miles so as to get there in season. The services were conducted in Hindoo fashion in some respect, as he did not read the Scripture himself: there was another present to take that part. Prayers were offered in behalf of the queen, the council, etc., which I liked very much, because in seeking good for others we show our love for them. But alas! the old trouble again! Again I heard of “God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost” there!

Learning my troubles, and with a view to alleviate them, the minister gave me a book called “Catechism,” but unfortunately, owing to the peculiar state of my mind, it made the matter worse still. In it for the first time I read expressions like the following, “As the very God of very God,” “begotten, but not made,” “one in three, three in one,” “yet distinct,” which to me sounded anything but rational. I begged the minister to explain these things to me as they appeared contradictory among themselves. I believed the very God is always very God, and the very man is always very man,--they cannot be otherwise; that humanity and Deity are two distinct things, so that they cannot be made identical. Again, the word _Trinity_ was something new, which, in my study of the New Testament I did not meet with. I was told that these things lie beyond the reach of human conception; that our best effort to understand or to explain them would be fruitless; that although they seem contradictory and absurd to us, in reality they are not so, because they are unfathomable truths,--the children of the Revelations. This did not satisfy me, for I could not believe that our reason would contradict what the Revelation has to say. In looking at the matter with a simple and earnest mind, we see that Revelation brings us new and important truths and is not afraid of the close inspection of reason. Revelation owes much to reason, without which it cannot perform its mission. God gave Revelation unto _us_, who are endowed with reasoning faculties, that we might examine, reflect upon, and receive its contents. Reason, then, is the key to open Revelation.

Again, there is _no failure_ in God; whatever he wishes to do is done in the best manner possible. So if he wished to bless his children with new truth in relation to his own nature, under the new dispensation, he could do it distinctly, intelligibly, and to their satisfaction. Our reasoning faculties do not object to the sublime truths like these, “Behold, Israel, the Lord our God is one Lord,” “Love thy neighbor as thyself,” etc., because these and their kindred ones are substantial truths that men can live and die by. Men of different religions, culture, age, and accomplishment almost unanimously regard the above-mentioned precepts with reverence. There is no controversy about them. Thus truth stands on its own ground, self-existent, self-supporting forever.

“A thousand honest doubts are more manly than a single cowardly assent to a proposition,” are the words of a Boston clergyman. I realized the beauty of his doctrine in this stage of my inquiry. As I had got over the fear of being damned, for not believing what my reasoning powers bore testimony against, and what _my Teacher_ does not speak of, I bade _farewell_ to the Christian minister with reluctance, and directed my steps towards home.

My disappointment in seeing Christianity set before me in so many unintelligible, mysterious doctrines, reminds me of a curious anecdote. A man, poor from his early years, accustomed to live upon all sorts of coarse food, became the guest of a very opulent man. He anticipated a great treat there: he thought he would get some luxurious food, but to his great surprise he found nearly the very coarse things he used to eat at home, ready for his disposal. Astonished, he stood before the table and began to give vent to his disappointment. “Friends! I left you all in my broken cottage; here I am in a princely mansion, how did you manage to come here? I did not think of meeting you so soon, and in such a place!”

My disappointment was strong when I was greeted by so many absurd doctrines, that pass under the name of Christian. I left Brahmunism on account of these same obscure, dry, unintelligible precepts with which it is crowded, and approached unto the handsome edifice of Christianity with the hope of finding something better. But lo, the very absurdity again! In Christian countries the people open their Bibles, not so much to derive a certain belief from the pages as to find support for an already acquired one. They go already prepared to find this or that view. Thus a Unitarian child meets the doctrines on the Unity of God throughout the Bible; and on the other hand, a Trinitarian child finds hints and supports for his Trinity almost on every page within its covers. My case was quite different; when I came to Christ I did not anticipate much save that whatever he would utter unto me must be sublime, redeeming, vital truths.

“What shall I do now?” became an important inquiry; go back to the gods and goddesses of my fathers, or what? I felt ashamed of that _catechism_, so I hid it under my books, that no opponents might see it and ridicule Christianity before my face. Christianity is not at all responsible for the hosts of dry, strange, unintelligible dogmas that claim our assent. Some time afterwards my nephew, a boy of thirteen, happened to open this old catechism of mine and to read the “creeds.” He smiled a little, and said, “Uncle, what book is this?” “That’s a catechism; don’t you see? It contains the Articles of Faith!” “Of what faith, uncle?” “Of the Christian faith,” said I. “Don’t say so! I declare! Isn’t the New Testament sufficient for that purpose? Here, you see, I read Christ was both God and man. God is one, yet has three distinct persons. Do the English people believe in these things?” “Certainly they do,” I rejoined. The little boy closed the book, saying, “Uncle, it makes me smile to think that the English people who drive railroad engines, build steamboats, and send messages through electric wires, should not know the difference between man and God,--one and three,” etc.

After a short season of the “Suspense of Faith,”--not knowing where to go, I met a young friend from Calcutta who is a member of the “Brahmo Somaj,” founded by the celebrated Raja Ram mohun Roy himself, or by his followers, I am not sure which. He brought me a large sheet of partly printed paper in which I entered my name, residence, date of subscription, etc., and thus took the name of “Brahmo,” or deist, as far as the _unity_ of God is concerned. But as we wished to make our religion depend more upon our _works_, our affections, our love toward men in general, than upon a certain belief, I did not find much satisfaction in my deist life. The Bengalee deists are men of admirable character, of great intelligence, and of mild disposition, but the majority of them lack the spirit of freedom. They do not have much faith in the idols I think, but they have idols _at their houses_, which are worshipped and taken care of at their expense. How far they repudiate the caste system I am not sure, for I have not seen nor heard of high-caste deists dining with low-caste brethren publicly, nor have I known a Brahmun deist to marry the daughter of other castes. I do not mean that _these_, i. e. eating, drinking, and marrying with different castes are the essential parts of religion, and that as such the Calcutta deists do not observe them. No; the caste system, notwithstanding all its policy and the good it pretends to do, is obviously detrimental to the progress of the masses in India. It lies like the heavy Hymaloy over the heads of the low castes: they cannot rise upward intellectually, socially, or spiritually. Hence the first religious, philanthropic act of those who see the defects of the caste system, ought to be to help its removal and to inaugurate a state of equality among the people. My deistical brethren hardly take that step, although they eat and drink forbidden food and liquor with rich low castes, or with Christian people even privately. They have some saintly men among them. I admire their precepts, honor their private lives, and deem them noble. But they do not come like Jesus of Nazareth unto the publicans and sinners, or to those with unwashen hands.

I became acquainted with a young Brahmun deist,--Baboo Raj-kifsen Bannerjea, of Mahessolla, whom I found the embodiment of truth, love, and piety. Indeed, the first _angel_ I met in this world was he. His very mild appearance, his soft eyes, shedding forth love from them, his tender voice, are the index of his inward accomplishments. He is a man of considerable learning, and of wealth and high standing in the community. Would I knew what first led him to reject the idol gods! It would make a volume to write all about his life, which, though short, is full of noble, philanthropic acts. His charity is broad, yet discriminating; his dealings with others are frank and kind, yet impartial; his manners are prudent, yet childlike. He observes Christ’s rule as far as it is possible in regard to giving alms,--not letting the left hand know what the right hand doeth. For the benefit of the children of high and low castes he established a school at his own expense chiefly; for the little help which he received from a few individuals was frequently withdrawn on account of his anti-heathen principles.

He has a large landed property which he manages with great caution, as well as to the entire satisfaction of his subjects. I was present one day at his office when a Mohammedan man was brought in on the charge of robbing the garden of our Brahmun friend, his landlord. While he was swearing vehemently in the name of his Allah, to convince the officers of his innocence, our friend had been working an algebraic sum. Having finished his work, he looked at him pityingly and with a tender voice, said, “Friend, swear not! Think how much wrong you have done unto us! You know all! you owe some money to us,--you are my subject. These two obligations bind you to our family, as you say; you ought to protect my property against the usurper,--lo! you are a usurper yourself! I wonder you do not feel sorry for your conduct!”

Noble as this brother is, admirable as his deeds are, he lacks, as I have observed before, that degree of moral courage which none but the “Sent” of God could give. While enjoying the pleasure and privilege of being with these brethren, and deriving much edification from their amiable lives, the under-current of my soul was constantly flowing toward Christ. I could not go away from him, nor forget his loving, precious words that brought me out of superstition. Are not there men who believe as I do,--that God is _strictly_ one,--that Christ is the best of all religious teachers whom the world ever had or will have, that he is the Sent and oldest Son of our common Parent? If there are not any found professing such belief,--no matter; I shall stand alone, and offer my help unto the world as far as I am able. Theological differences would not stop my hand and heart from serving and loving others, and this is the best religion indeed! While thus defining my position and receiving instruction from Jesus secretly, my esteemed friend, Baboo C. C. Singha, a convert to Christianity, and who has been a preacher for three years, I should think, told me that he had been told by Hodgson Pratt, Esq., of the arrival of a Unitarian missionary in Calcutta, under the auspices of the American Unitarian Association, and whose views of Christianity are different from those of other missionaries. I could not understand the term _Unitarian Christian_, because I was told if I did not believe in the Trinity I was not a Christian, but a deist. We went to hear the missionary, Rev. C. H. A. Dall, but not being accustomed to hear or talk English, I did not gain much at first. He gave us his printed sermons, and the writings of Channing, Burnap, Elliot, Cordner, Bartol, etc., which, as I read them, not only confirmed what my belief had been, but whispered to me, saying, “Friend, there are thousands on the other side of the Atlantic who hold the same views of God as you do, so you are not alone. Our fellowship and sympathy are yours.” Being made acquainted with and interested in this missionary, I began to attend his religious services on Sunday; but I could not do it regularly for several reasons. Mr. Dall’s place is nearly seven miles from my house; besides, there is the majestic Gunga to be crossed, which “alone is twenty miles,” as the Hindoo saying is.[32] I had to take my breakfast very early and to walk to and fro all the way, crossing the river by steamboat either at Shal-kea, or Howrah. My dear mother was told by my Hindoo brethren that I attended the religious services in a Christian church, with Baboo C. C. Singha. She felt very much frightened at this, and took measures to stop my going to Calcutta on Sunday. “If you will not hear me, but will go to Calcutta on Sunday, go Joguth. The people tell me, and I can presage too, what a disgrace and ruin you will bring upon the family. They say you are almost a ‘_Kistan_’ now. You eat _beef_ with the Yobuns; or, if you do not, they are quite sure you will soon! I am afraid they will turn you out of the feast sometimes, and I don’t blame them for it. Joguth, have you forgotten the proverbs your father taught you? Remember that one member of the family destroys its peace as one tree burns the whole forest, in creating fire by conflagration. You will be the ruin of the family! You would not hear the advice of those who are older and wiser than yourself; nor would you heed my words. And why should you? The young bird, the moment its wings are covered with down, leaves its mother’s nest to look out for itself; so you, Joguth, you are grown up now; my advice, my guidance would not be of any service to you (at least you think so). I do not blame nor hate the Christians. Let them follow their own customs faithfully. Jesu Kisto is their God; let them worship him; I have no objection to that. As Brahmuns, we ought not to hate the gods of other nations. Still we cannot worship them, for they are not ours; we have gods over us. O what a pleasant sight it is to see the young Brahmuns going to the sacred river, to the temples, etc. My heart is delighted to see them! And you, mistaken child, hardly go to the temples or to the Ganges! What business have you in Calcutta? If you will go there on Sunday, go without breakfast; I shall not have it ready for you so early,” etc.

Now, under these circumstances, I could not attend Mr. Dall’s services on every Sunday, much as I wished to do so, and whenever I went, I went without breakfast, and to the utter displeasure of my mother. On my return, at four or five o’clock in the afternoon, she would not set the plate before me, nor help me while I ate my dinner, but would go out of the room to weep over the loss of her child.[33]

I grew so unpopular and the people began to dread me so much that they would not let their boys visit Calcutta with me, lest I should make them “Kistan.” But “where is will there is way,” is a true saying. Notwithstanding all vigilance, ridicule, many from “north and south, the east and west” of Calcutta would be glad to meet in Mr. Dall’s room. Not fearing the difficulties, but rather rejoicing in them, with an inward consciousness that we are not doing wrong before God,--that to seek after the spiritual welfare of man in love, is the best service humanity could render unto God and man,--some of us determined to form a band of believers in and seekers after Truth. The Sunday-school cards, containing beautiful verses, and the Sunday-School Gazette, which Mr. Dall gave us, suggested the plan, and we succeeded in gathering twenty-one high-caste boys, all of whom knew English more or less. Not finding a convenient place for our purpose, we would meet in some garden, away from the Brahmuns, and there read, sing, and speak of God as set forth in the publications of the American Unitarian Association, and of the Sunday-School Society. Again I was connected with the school of Baboo C. C. Singha, a noble, energetic gentleman, and this gave me a good opportunity to be known to many and to disseminate the seeds of truth in their youthful hearts. But “a man’s foes will be of his own household.” The brother of Baboo C. C. Singha, a Trinitarian in his belief, having been converted to that faith in his early years, began to trouble us in various ways, and not unfrequently to take unfair measures and to use unkind words. From an American book, called “Sargent’s Reader,” No. 3, I believe, I had selected a beautiful piece, “Prayer for a Pure Heart,” and asked my young friends to write it down and commit it to memory, which they did cheerfully. This gentleman, while examining their writing-books, saw it, read it, and liked it I am sure, and asked them who gave it to them. Of course they told him that I had given it to them. He uncharitably made some unkind remarks which surprised us all,--saying, in effect, “Joguth is a hypocrite. Let him first be baptized, and then teach these things to others,” etc. I smiled at this, and realized then the truth of Dr. Channing’s discourse on the Church.

In the next chapter I shall attempt to give some reasons in relation to my faith, and to state in what respects I differ from the brethren of other denominations, and why.