Gifts to the West.

Nor did these old civilizations forbear to reach hands across the sea and share with the young and lusty West the fruits of their knowledge.  On a May morning, as skillful carriers swing you up to the heights of the South India hills, there is a sudden sound reminiscent of the home barnyard, a scurry of wings across the path, and a gleam of glossy plumage; Mr. Jungle Cock has been disturbed in his morning meal.  Did you know that from his ancestors are descended in direct lineage all the Plymouth Rocks and the White Leghorns of the poultry yard, all the Buff Orpingtons that win gold medals at poultry shows?  Other food stuffs India originated and shared.  Sugar and rice were delicacies from her fields carried over Roman roads to please the palates of the Caesars.[5]

Traditions of Womanhood.

Besides these contributions to the world’s pantry, there were gifts of the mind and spirit.  To those days of long ago modern India looks back as to a golden age, for she was then in the forefront of civilization, passing out her gifts with a generous hand.  Of that ancient heritage not the least part is the tradition of womanhood,—­a heritage trampled in the dust of later ages, its restoration only now beginning through that liberty in Christ which sets free the woman of the West and of the East.

Much might be written on the place of the Indian woman in folk-lore epic and drama.  Helen of Troy and Dido of Carthage pale into common adventuresses when placed beside the quiet courage and utter self-abnegation of such Indian heroines as Sita and Damayanti.

The story of Rama and Sita is the Odyssey of the East, crooned by grandmothers over the evening fires; sung by wandering minstrels under the shade of the mango grove; trolled by travelers jogging in bullock carts along empty moonlit roads.  Sita’s devotion is a household word to many a woman-child of India.  Little Lakshmi follows the adventures of the loved heroine as she shares Rama’s unselfish renunciation of the throne and exile to the forest with its alarms of wild beasts and wild men.  She thrills with fear at Sita’s abduction by the hideous giant, Ravana, and the wild journey through the air and across the sea to the Ceylon castle.  She weeps with Rama’s despair, and again laughs with glee at the antics of his monkey army from the south country, as they build their bridge of stones across the Ceylon straits where now-a-days British engineers have followed in their simian track and train and ferry carry the casual traveler across the gaps jumped by the monkey king and his tribe.  Sita’s sore temptations in the palace of her conqueror and her steadfast loyalty until at last her husband comes victorious—­they are part of the heritage of a million Lakshmis all up and down the length of India.

[Illustration:  What will life bring to her?]