ox　regarded　my　food　as　polluted。
  The　Devotee；　noticing　my　sign　of　surprise；　said：　〃My　God；　why　should　I　come　to　you　at　all；　if　I　could　not　take　your　food？　〃
  I　asked　her　what　her　own　caste　people　would　say。　　She　told　me　she　had　already　spread　the　news　far　and　wide　all　over　the　village。　　The　caste　people　had　shaken　their　heads；　but　agreed　that　she　must　go　her　own　way。
  I　found　out　that　the　Devotee　came　from　a　good　family　in　the　country；　and　that　her　mother　was　well　to…do；　and　desired　to　keep　her　daughter。　　But　she　preferred　to　be　a　mendicant。　　I　asked　her　how　she　made　her　living。　She　told　me　that　her　followers　had　given　her　a　piece　of　land；　and　that　she　begged　her　food　from　door　to　door。　　She　said　to　me：　〃The　food　which　I　get　by　begging　is　divine。〃
  After　I　had　thought　over　what　she　said；　I　understood　her　meaning。　　When　we　get　our　food　precariously　as　alms；　we　remember　God　the　giver。　　But　when　we　receive　our　food　regularly　at　home；　as　a　matter　of　course；　we　are　apt　to　regard　it　as　ours　by　right。
  I　had　a　great　desire　to　ask　her　about　her　husband。　　But　as　she　never　mentioned　him　even　indirectly；　I　did　not　question　her。
  I　found　out　very　soon　that　the　Devotee　had　no　respect　at　all　for　that　part　of　the　village　where　the　people　of　the　higher　castes　lived。
  〃They　never　give；〃　she　said；　〃a　single　farthing　to　God's　service；　and　yet　they　have　the　largest　share　of　God's　glebe。　　But　the　poor　worship　and　starve。〃
  I　asked　her　why　she　did　not　go　and　live　among　these　godless　people；　and　help　them　towards　a　better　life。　〃That；〃　I　said　with　some　unction；　〃would　be　the　highest　form　of　divine　worship。〃
  I　had　heard　sermons　of　this　kind　from　time　to　time；　and　I　am　rather　fond　of　copying　them　myself　for　the　public　benefit；　when　the　chance　comes。
  But　the　Devotee　was　not　at　all　impressed。　　She　raised　her　big　round　eyes；　and　looked　straight　into　mine；　and　said：
  〃You　mean　to　say　that　because　God　is　with　the　sinners；　therefore　when　you　do　them　any　service　you　do　it　to　God？　　Is　that　so？〃
  〃Yes；〃　I　replied；　〃that　is　my　meaning。〃
  〃Of　course；〃　she　answered　almost　impatiently；　〃of　course；　God　is　with　them：　otherwise；　how　could　they　go　on　living　at　all？　　But　what　is　that　to　me？　　My　God　is　not　there。　　My　God　cannot　be　worshipped　among　them；　because　I　do　not　find　Him　there。　　I　seek　Him　where　I　can　find　Him。〃
  As　she　spoke；　she　made　obeisance　to　me。　　What　she　meant　to　say　was　really　this。　　A　mere　doctrine　of　God's　omnipresence　does　not　help　us。　That　God　is　all…pervading；this　truth　may　be　a　mere　intangible　abstraction；　and　therefore　unreal　to　ourselves。　　Where　I　can　see　Him；　there　is　His　reality　in　my　soul。
  I　need　not　explain　that　all　the　while　she　showered　her　devotion　on　me　she　did　it　to　me　not　as　an　individual。　　I　was　simply　a　vehicle　of　her　divine　worship。　　It　was　not　for　me　either　to　receive　it　or　to　refuse　it：　for　it　was　not　mine；　but　God's。
  When　the　Devotee　came　again；　she　found　me　once　more　engaged　with　my　books　and　papers。
  〃What　have　you　been　doing；〃　she　said；　with　evident　vexation；　〃that　my　God　should　make　you　undertake　such　drudgery？　　Whenever　I　come；　I　find　you　reading　and　writing。〃
  〃God　keeps　his　useless　people　busy；〃　I　answered；　〃otherwise　they　would　be　bound　to　get　into　mischief。　　They　have　to　do　all　the　least　necessary　things　in　life。　　It　keeps　them　out　of　trouble。〃
  The　Devotee　told　me　that　she　could　not　bear　the　encumbrances；　with　which；　day　by　day；　I　was　surrounded。　　If　she　wanted　to　see　me；　she　was　not　allowed　by　the　servants　to　come　straight　upstairs。　　If　she　wanted　to　touch　my　feet　in　worship；　there　were　my　socks　always　in　the　way。　　And　when　she　wanted　to　have　a　simple　talk　with　me；　she　found　my　mind　lost　in　a　wilderness　of　letters。
  This　time；　before　she　left　me；　she　folded　her　hands；　and　said：　〃My　God！　I　felt　your　feet　in　my　breast　this　morning。　　Oh；　how　cool！　　And　they　were　bare；　not　covered。　　I　held　them　upon　my　head　for　a　long　time　in　worship。　　That　filled　my　very　being。　　Then；　after　that；　pray　what　was　the　use　of　my　coming　to　you　yourself？　　Why　did　I　come？　　My　Lord；　tell　me　truly；wasn't　it　a　mere　infatuation？〃
  There　were　some　flowers　in　my　vase　on　the　table。　　While　she　was　there；　the　gardener　brought　some　new　flowers　to　put　in　their　place。　　The　Devotee　saw　him　changing　them。
  〃Is　that　all？　〃　　she　exclaimed。　〃Have　you　done　with　the　flowers？　　Then　give　them　to　me。〃
  She　held　the　flowers　tenderly　in　the　cup　of　her　hands；　and　began　to　gaze　at　them　with　bent　head。　　After　a　few　moments'　silence　she　raised　her　head　again；　and　said　to　me：　〃You　never　look　at　these　flowers；　therefore　they　become　stale　to　you。　　If　you　would　only　look　into　them；　then　your　reading　and　writing　would　go　to　the　winds。〃
  She　tied　the　flowers　together　in　the　end　of　her　robe；　and　placed　them；　in　an　attitude　of　worship；　on　the　top　of　her　head；　saying　reverently：　〃Let　me　carry　my　God　with　me。〃
  While　she　did　this；　I　felt　that　flowers　in　our　rooms　do　not　receive　their　due　meed　of　loving　care　at　our　hands。　　When　we　stick　them　in　vases；　they　are　more　like　a　row　of　naughty　schoolboys　standing　on　a　form　to　be　punished。
  The　Devotee　came　again　the　same　evening；　and　sat　by　my　feet　on　the　terrace　of　the　roof。
  〃I　gave　away　those　flowers；〃　she　said；　〃as　I　went　from　house　to　house　this　morning；　singing　God's　name。　　Beni；　the　head　man　of　our　village；　laughed　at　me　for　my　devotion；　and　said：　‘Why　do　you　waste　all　this　devotion　on　Him？　　Don't　you　know　He　is　reviled　up　and　down　the　countryside？'　　Is　that　true；　my　God？　　Is　it　true　that　they　are　hard　upon　you？〃
  For　a　moment　I　shrank　into　myself。　　It　was　a　shock　to　find　that　the　stains　of　printers'　ink　could　reach　so　far。
  The　Devotee　went　on：　〃Beni　imagined　that　he　could　blow　out　the　flame　of　my　devotion　at　one　breath！　　But　this　is　no　mere　tiny　flame：　it　is　a　burning　fire。　　Why　do　they　abuse　you；　my　God？〃
  I　said：　〃Because　I　deserved　it。　　I　suppose　in　my　greed　I　was　loitering　about　to　steal　people's　hearts　in　secret。〃
  The　Devotee　said：　〃Now　you　see　for　yourself　how　little　their　hearts　are　worth。　　They　are　full　of　poison；　and　this　will　cure　you　of　your　greed。〃
  〃When　a　man；〃　I　answered；　〃has　greed　in　his　heart；　he　is　always　on　the　verge　of　being　beaten。　　The　greed　itself　supplies　his　enemies　with　poison。〃
  〃Our　merciful　God；〃　she　replied；　〃beats　us　with　His　own　hand；　and　drives　away　all　the　poison。　　He　who　endures　God's　beating　to　the　end　is　saved。〃
  II。
  That　evening　the　Devotee　told　me　the　story　of　her　life。　　The　stars　of　evening　rose　and　set　behind　the　trees；　as　she　went　on　to　the　end　of　her　tale。
  〃My　husband　is　very　simple。　　Some　people　think　that　he　is　a　simpleton；　but　I　know　that　those　who　understand　simply；　understand　truly。　　In　business　and　household　management　he　was　able　to　hold　his　own。　　Because　his　needs　were　small；　and　his　wants　few；　he　could　manage　carefully　on　what　we　had。　　He　would　never　meddle　in　other　matters；　nor　try　to　understand　them。
  〃Both　my　husband's　parents　died　before　we　had　been　married　long；　and　we　were　left　alone。　　But　my　husband　always　needed　some　one　to　be　over　him。　I　am　ashamed　to　confess　that　he　had　a　sort　of　reverence　for　me；　and　looked　upon　me　as　his　superior。　　But　I　am　sure　that　he　could　understand　things　better　than　I；　though　I　had　greater　powers　of　talking。
  〃Of　all　the　people　in　the　world　he　held　his　Guru　Thakur　（spiritual　master）　in　the　highest　veneration。　　Indeed　it　was　not　veneration　merely　but　love；　and　such　love　as　his　is　rare。
  〃Guru　Thakur　was　younger　than　my　husband。　　Oh！　how　beautiful　he　was！
  〃My　husband　had　played　games　with　him　when　he　was　a　boy；　and　from　that　time　forward　he　had　dedicated　his　heart　and　soul　to　this　friend　of　his　early　days。　　Thakur　knew　how　simple　my　husband　was；　and　used　to　tease　him　mercilessly。
  〃He　and　his　comrades　would　play　jokes　upon　him　for　their　own　amusement；　but　he　would　bear　them　all　with　longsuffering。
  〃When　I　married　into　this　family；　Guru　Thakur　was　studying　at　Benares。　My　husband　used　to　pay　all　his　expenses。　　I　was　eighteen　years　old　when　he　returned　home　to　our　village。
  〃At　the　age　of　fifteen　I　had　my　child。　　I　was　so　young　I　did　not　know　how　to　take　care　of　him。　　I　was　fond　of　gossip；　and　liked　to　be　with　my　village　friends　for　hours　together。　　I　used　to　get　quite　cross　with　my
  boy　when　I　was　compelled　to　stay　at　home　and　nurse　him。　　Alas！　　my　child…God　came　into　my　life；　but　His　playthings　were　not　ready　for　Him。　He　came　to　the　mother's　heart；　but　the　mother's　heart　lagged　behind。　　He　left　me　in　anger；　and　ever　since　I　have　been　searching　for　Him　up　and　down　the　world。
  〃The　boy　was　the　joy　of　his　father's　life。　　My　careless　neglect　used　to　pain　my　husband。　　But　his　was　a　mute　soul。　　He　has　never　been　able　to　give　expression　to　his　pain。
  〃The　wonderful　thing　was　this；　that　in　spite　of　my　neglect　the　child　used　to　love　me　more　than　any　one　else。　　He　seemed　to　have　the　dread　that　I　would　one　day　go　away　and　leave　him。　　So　even　when　I　was　with　him；　he　would　watch　me　with　a　restless　look　in　his　eyes。　　He　had　me　very　little　to　himself；　and　therefore　his　desire　to　be　with　me　was　always　painfully　eager。　　When　I　went　each　day　to　the　river；　he　used　to　fret　and　stretch　out　his　little　arms　to　be　taken　with　me。　　But　the　bathing　ghal　was　my　place　for　meeting　my　frie