who rightly appreciates the worth and charms of all around him. To such a one the spring comes with delight, when the flowers and tender grass are up-springing just above the earth, and the buds forming on the trees and hedge-rows, all claiming nurture and support from the atmosphere, the earth, the showers, and from the sun-beams as they come joyfully along on the morning, transforming the dewdrops into bright glittering gems. To him the summer, as vegetation advances, has its own charms-the expanded flowers then displaying more fully their delicate formation, the bright blue sky and the clear atmosphere making him feel lightsome and glad. The sight of the autumnal foliage with its varied and beautiful hues, thrown together in exquisite shades, affords him delight; and winter, with its changing aspects, finds such a one enjoying each as they are presented to him in succession. How enchantingly sound the melodious strains of music, or the cadences of the human voice, as sweeping along in harmony they fall softly upon the ear, and he listens for the moment spell-bound. How are his joys heightend by beholding a beautiful prospect-hill and dale, mountain, river, and wood spreading out before him.

Right well is he entertained by books, and by the intercourse he thus has with the departed worthies of the earth, deriving pleasure and instruction from the legacies they have left. Science is full of interest to him; there are feelings of admiration called forth as the certain results of the sciences are discovered by experiment, and great joy is felt by those who perceive their long conjectured theories gradually unfolded, till the very result they imagined has actually been produced. With what zest, ardour, and diligence will pursuits like these animate him! Such a man, on looking at the bright stars and the infinite space in which they perform their appointed motions, and on directing his thoughts to the animalcula, contrasting the smallness of the one with the greatness of the other, is led to think of the vastness of that power which governs the worlds of stars, and attends also to the most minute creeping things of earth, adapting each to its sphere, and caring for it: as he thinks of these, his thoughts are elevated, and he feels there is a bountiful Benefactor on whom he, too, can rely.

How different is the condition of an ignorant or unobserving man-one whose portions are undeveloped! The sun as it rises in its glory, streaking the sky with many tints, and throwing light and shadow upon the landscape below, he admires not; and the beauty of the landscape he appreciates not, and scarcely does he notice beyond it the orb of day piling up fantastic towers among the clouds, and forming shapes which leave to imagination a pleasing task in trying to decipher them. The stars, as they shine in their splendour in the blue ethereal vault of heaven, have no charms for such a man.

The discoveries of science, and the thousand means they possess for bettering the condition of our race he dwells on only so far as his own interests are concerned, or as his own limited range extends. Sculpture, painting and literature, with their ever-increasing allurements, are lost upon him. And what of the affections of such a man? Kindness he indeed feels, yet not as he might, because dull in perceiving those little demonstrations of regard and kindness which ever anon come to cheer and bless, and which constitute more than half of the pleasures of life, he loses thousands of opportunities of enjoyment which are daily and hourly offered to him and his self-respect is decreased when he finds how deficient he is in many of these higher and finer feelings.

and

That man is really educated in whom all the faculties, powers, feelings, and affections are rightly developed—and it is to this state we should all aspire. Even by adding to our means of exercise an hitherto dormant faculty or feeling of a pure kind

we

are adding much to our sources of happiness; and for this we should perseveringly strive, even though we see not readily the fruits of our labour, feeling assured that the result in the long run will be good, it we only continue "to labour and wait." But we must seek our own self-improvement, without which the attempts of others are useless. Day by day must we add to our knowledge, learning the grand principles of self-effort and self-reliance. Even when deriving advantages from our friends and neighbours, our own thoughts and abilities must be used. We do ourselves harm, indeed, by relving altogether on others for thoughts, ideas, and promptings to action. We should have some good end in view to incite us to progress.

Turn we but to the history of the past and we shall see that numerous sacrifices have been made in all ages, countries and nations the advantages of which are reaped by us of the present day. Yes, we benefit by the labours of thoughful men of all ages and climes-Milton, Newton and Shakespeare, and our own Vyasa and Valmiki, as well as a host of others, too numerous to name, have worked for us. The present inhabitants of the globe are, in a great measure, directly and indirectly, ministering to our happiness. Religion, science, the steamengine, agriculturists, sailors traversing the mighty deep, poor ignorant Negroes sugar-making, Chinese tea-gathering, electric telegraphs, manufacturers, men working by hand or head, exhibitions of industries: these, and more than these, are adding to our happiness, if we but rightly use and utilise them. But to tell the history of all that has been done for us would be to reveal the world's history; and to enumerate what is being done for us now, would be to include all the actions and works of men throughout the world. Seeing how these persons and things, how the earth, the atmosphere, and the Great Being who governs them all, are adding to our means of happiness, should we not also aspire to be doing something towards aiding the progress of ourselves and others? Should we not aspire to do our duty?

And what can be more satisfactory to reflect upon than duty, manfully, earnestly, and faithfully done? Without this satisfaction, how insipid are all other thingsand with it, how content and happy we ought to feel, though adverse circumstan

ces

encompass us! But what is this duty, to the performance of which wer should so earnestly aspire? It is following the dictates of truth, justice, and reason; and doing all the good we can for others, for it is the greatest privilege of man to live and labour for others. Easily may our duty be discerned, if we stifle not the promptings of our consciences, which point out what is required of us. It is for us to carry out the pure principles which arise within us, without fear, let or hindrance, and looking straightforward, careless of blame, and seeking not praise, to truly comply with the demands thus made upon us. The result we must deem as beyond our control, and be satisfied when we have thoroughly carried out the principles of good as far as lay in our power.

High as our aspirations may lead us, we must not allow them to over-reach the bounds of reason, or we may fall. The good inspirations we form we must strive practically to carry out regardless of conse quences, and hoping on, even though we do not gain the far-off reward. Franklin it was who said, though he had failed in becoming a perfect man, which he aimed to be, he was a better man for having made the attempt. Of what benefit will it be for a mariner to perceive a haven in the distance, if he lay by his glass, regard not his chart, and use no efforts to reach it. but, having seen the desired port, expects therefore to anchor in it? Nor will it do for us, on seeing a prospect of future progress opening to our view, to think that the sight is sufficient. It will be useless to us unless we practically attempt to carry it out. Yet how dreary, dry and tiresome to many is this practical carrying out of ideas. They would rather be imagining, rather building, Micawber-like, castles upon the "baseless fabric of dreams"rather be idling away their lives in the hope of "something turning up." On the other hand, there are those who plod on day by day, without ever casting a look into the past, the present, or the futurewho enjoy not pleasures which are lying about them, and which seem as it were to be offering themselves as means of something cheering, and delighting mankind, and making them better and nobler. The man who chooses the medium of these views is the one most likely to be happy himself, and to do good to others. The ideal or aspiring portion of his nature would incite him to constant exertion, and the exertion would call forth better and more extended aspirations, which, having their influence, would be acted upon, and again reaction following, a series of successive incitements and actions would be produced and have a zest not otherwise easily attainable.

Our march must be onward and upward, both as individuals and as members of society. It requires untiring effort and unwavering perseverance to keep pace with the age. Great are the advantages now within the reach of all. But are these used as they might be? Do we, on the whole, duly appreciate and rightly value these advantages? Some of us do, but unfortunately, we cannot say, all of us do. The aspirations of some do not extend

beyond the immediate and momentary gratification of the passions, and ending there, unhappiness and misery to themselves and others follow. However, as we look forward to the future, we see shadows thrown across our way which seem to indicate that beyond, in the vast depths of time, are better and brighter days, when men shall use their powers aright, and successfully make their efforts conducing to their improvement and the good of others. We can indeed do much, if we will only resolutely exert ourselves towards removing the dark veil which overshadows the future; and we can assist in clearing away the ignorance retarding the full development of the capa

bilities of our race, and causing misery, wretchedness and crime. As we aspire more and more towards perfection, so shall we become more and more happy and useful. Our influence, small though it may be, will perchance extend, even as the circle in the lake is ever extending till it reaches the furthest bound; and each one, whether as a member of society or individually, by imparting the knowledge he has acquired, and by doing all the good he can in other ways, may assist in widening the field of human improvement and happiness.

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime......

RAICHARAN MUKERJEA.

W

E had been just a fortnight together in Pretoria waiting with hourly expectation for the final interview which was to conclude the agreement with General Smuts. The General was busy night and day with the great Labour Strike. As Minister of the Interior and Minister of Defence, he had the whole burden of the crisis upon his shoulders, and never man worked harder. He would come into the office at the Union Buildings where we sat waiting for him and would say, "I cannot tell you how sorry I am, Gandhi, but I can't see you to-day." And Mr. Gandhi would assure the General that he quite understood the difficulty of the situation. I am certain that Mr. Gandhi's whole attitude at this time, which was one of chivalrous forbearance and generosity, did more than anything else to bring the agreement to pass.

The time spent in Pretoria had not been wasted by all this delay. For my part, I had there opportunities of living with the Indian Community for a long period together instead of the flying visits I obliged to pay in other places. The Dhobies (washermen) of Pretoria became my great friends. They were chiefly Muhammadans,

was

was

with a Muhammadan leader, who one of the most remarkable men I met in South Africa. Their great delight was to give me a khana, either a breakfast or a dinner, and I was deeply touched at the infinite pains they took to provide for my wants. I made them keep to my vegetarian ways and they lavished fruit upon me in extraordinary profusion. They also gave clothes to wear-dhotis, kurtas and chaddars: they fitted me up with shoes and slippers: they were eager to wash and iron in their laundries my white summersuits every day, if only I would allow them! It was like having possession of the magic ring in the fairy story: indeed I had not even to express in words my wish, when hey! presto! everything was accomplished that I could desire. And it was such a real joy to them to do these things for me that I could never have the heart to refuse them. Their generosity was truly wonderful. They were quite a small community: yet on the last Sunday which I spent with them they gave, as exactly as I can remember, 477 rupees and something over to the Indian cause. I was amazed at the way they brought up and laid before me on the ground where we were seated watches,

gold, silver,-everything they had. And the best of it was they seemed so proud and happy about it; and I think I was quite as proud and happy as they. But I was even happier still at an incident on my departure five days later. We had been waiting, as I said, for the last interview with General Smuts. The end of the negotiations came suddenly. The General summoned us, the agreement was signed, and all was over. Then we had to catch at once the next train for Johannesburg; for we had kept the Johannesburg Indians waiting all this time for us. The news flew round the Indian location in Pretoria that we were going that very morning. The leaders of the Dhobie Community had wished to give me one more khana, but that could not now be arranged. Instead they came in a body to the Station. Martial Law was still in force and no one was allowed on the platform. But they were waiting for me at the Station gates, and the leader put into my hands a further gift to the cause. It was 145 rupees. They had collected it all that very morning!

I was very tired and had slight fever at this time. The strain of those days of waiting had brought out the old malaria in me and I had felt it coming on all through the morning. As we neared Johannesburg it increased and I had to lie down in the train. But that incident at the Railway Station and the love of those simple kindly-hearted Dhobies. made me forget everything else. Both then and many times afterwards while travelling in railway trains, or standing at the ship's side straining my eyes across the sea, I have thought of my friends, the Dhobies of Pretoria, and pictured their faces, and remembered their last farewell. Again and again I have written to them and received letters from them in Guzerati which puzzled my wits to get translated. Always their messages are full of the same love, and the most touching thing of all is when they write to tell me that they are saving up their money to pay one visit to the Motherland and intend to come and stay with me at Bolpur. If they come, they shall have the best khana that the Ashram can afford! Of that there can be no question.

It was very chilly at Johannesburg when we arrived and I shivered and was feverish by turn. The height of the great mining

centre is 6,000 feet, while Pretoria is in a valley and quite hot in summer. We had come in the train out of the heat into the cold. The station was almost empty, except for soldiers in khaki, who were guarding every entrance. There had been a great fear of dynamite explosions. Almost every European labourer on strike was an expert in dynamite blasting, and it known that much gun cotton had been taken away from the mines before the strike began. There had been almost daily attempts to blow up the railway line, and sixty thousand troops were out on guard. Johannesburg Station was especially closely watched; for the chief bitterness of the strikers was against the Railway authorities and they wished to prevent any provisions entering the town. Outside the Station we met our Indian friends who had come to welcome us. We made arrangements with them as quickly as possible. No public meeting was to be allowed on account of Martial Law; but we both gladly promised to give up the whole of the next morning to interviews instead. There was great joy among the Indians when the terms of the agreement with General Smuts were understood. We explained them there and then outside the Railway Station.

Then we went on our pilgrimage. Mr. Gandhi had been looking forward to this tirtha ever since we reached the Transvaal. The term tirtha which I am using is not my name but his. He had spoken to me again and again and told me the incident in his own life, which had made one spot in the great Gold City sacred to him above all others. It was to him a place of worship.

Many years back at the very beginning of the Indian struggle in the Transvaal Mr. Doke, a Baptist minister, had got to know the Indian leader and had learnt to love him. His description of Mr. Gandhi in those days is so graphic, that I give it in his own words:

"Having travelled in India," he writes, "I had almost unconsciously selected some typical face and form likely to confront me, probably a tall and stately figure and a bold and masterful face in harmony with the influence he seemed to exert in Johannesburg. Perhaps a bearing haughty and aggressive. Instead of this, to my surprise, a small, lithe, spare figure stood before me, and a refined, earnest face looked into

mine. The eyes were dark, but the smile which lighted up the face and that direct fearless glance took the heart by storm. He spoke English perfectly and was evidently a man of great culture. There was a quiet assured strength, a greatness of heart, a transparent honesty, that attracted me at once to the Indian leader. We parted friends.'

"When I think of him," Mr. Doke proceeds, "one or two scenes stand out more vividly than others. There is the trial scene in the "B" criminal court which I witnessed. The cynical magistrate with his face flushed presiding at the Bench. That spare, lithe form is responding to the call "Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi" Gandhi" and taking the prisoner's place with alacrity to receive sentence. Just prior to this he had said at the Mosque, to his followers: "We are engaged in a struggle for religious liberty: and by religion I do not mean formal religion, or customary religion, but that religion which underlies all religions and brings us face to face with our Maker. To repeat the words of Jesus, those who follow God have to leave the world and I call upon my country. men to leave the world and cling to God as a child clings to its mother's breast."

"Another scene," Mr. Doke writes, "recurs to my mind with equal vividness. The Pathans had attacked Mr. Gandhi, striking him down and beating him with savage brutality. When he recovered consciousness, he was lying in an office near by, helpless and bleeding. The Doctor was cleansing his wounds, the police officers watching and listening beside him, while he was using what little strength he had to insist that no action should be taken to punish his murderers. This I saw with my own eyes. Such scenes as these I can never forget. They serve to reveal the man. He is one of those outstanding characters whom to know is to love." Such is Mr. Doke's description, and it is the encounter with the Pathans which brings me to the actual cause of the pilgrimage itself,-the tirtha which we were undertaking that evening. For the pilgrimroad which Mr. Gandhi and I traversed ended at Mr. Doke's own house. This was Mr. Gandhi's pilgrim-shrine.

Let me relate the story.

Some years ago the Transvaal Government had treated the Indian Community as a criminal class. It suspected them of

introducing other Indians into the country by stealth and using as a means false licenses and counterfeit passes. Acting on this suspicion, the Transvaal Government insisted that every Indian should be registered be registered in the same way that criminals were registered, viz., by fingermark impressions. The Indians were to be compelled to show this registration when required, just as ticket of leave men show to the police their identity certificates. Mr. Gandhi stood out as the leader of the Indian Community and refused to suffer this indignity. He said that the Indians were ready to do anything voluntarily to show the Government their honesty; but they would not be treated as criminals or suspects. He pointed out to Government that their honour was at stake in the matter, but at the same time gave a solemn promise that if compulsion were abandoned he would himself undertake to obtain the voluntary registration of the whole Indian community. At first Government was unbending. The heaviest penalties were threatened if the Indians refused to register. But not a single Indian surrendered. The prisons were filled. Mr. Gandhi was sentenced to hard labour and was made to break stones as a convict, in the open street, before the jeering Johannesburg mob. The struggle went on with chequered course. At length General Smuts accepted Mr. Gandhi's position and asked for Mr. Gandhi's aid. He agreed to allow voluntary registration.

But by this time some of the followers of Mr. Gandhi had taken up a new attitude. They objected to registration altogether, and refused to register even as voluntary agents. A small group of six Pathans, who had taken the original oath against compulsory registration, were especially obstinate. They were too dull to follow the distinction which Mr. Gandhi had made from the first, and declared they would kill him as a traitor if he came forward for voluntary registration. Mr. Gandhi reasoned with them, but all in vain. At last he declared that whether they killed him, or not, he would never break his word to Government. The Hall was filled there were nearly four thousand Indians present. An air of tense excitement filled the room. Mr. Gandhi stepped on to the platform and in the presence of all made his registration with the finger impressions of both hands. The Pathans