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LIFE AND LETTERS
OFDAVID COIT SCUDDER,
MISSIONARY IN SOUTHERN INDIA.
BY HORACE E. SCUDDER.
NEW YORK:
PUBLISHED BY HURD AND HOUGHTON.
BOSTON: E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY.
MDCCCLXIV.




Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by
HORACE E. SCUDDER,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.
RIVERSIDE1 CAMBRIDGE:
STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY
H. O. HOUGHTON AND COAIPANY.




PREFACE.
I HAVE tried in this volume to record the life of an
elder brother, who was a missionary in India of the
American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, and died at the beginning of his twenty-eighth
year. My thanks are due to the various persons who
have assisted me in this work by allowing me to examine and use the letters which they had received from
my brother, and by furnishing me with recollections
of their intercourse with him.  Especially I would
acknowledge the service rendered by Mr. Capron and
Mr. Washburn, members of the Madura Mission.
It should be stated that the chapter on Cromlechs
was compiled from material which had also been used
in the preparation of a paper upon the subject, read
before the Boston Society of Natural History by my
brother, S. H. Scudder. and inserted in the published
Proceedings of the Society.
The portrait which precedes the volume is engraved
from a photograph by Black, enlarged from an ambrotype taken in India, a few weeks before my brother's
death. It was judged to be the most satisfactory picture that could be secured of him as he appeared in




iv                   PREFACE.
India, and I only regret that it was not practicable to
insert also one which should recal the face most familiarly to those who remember him as he was at the time
of leaving America.
If it had been possible I would gladly have used
throughout the book the method adopted in the latter
half, of giving the narrative in the missionary's own
words, but a slight examination will show the reader
how necessary it was that the account of the greater
part of his life should be given by another: the record
did not exist in his own language, except as it related
to the merely incidental side of his life. There can be
but little interest and less importance attaching to any
mere narrative of adventure, where the life of a student is concerned, and I have followed my own kind
of interest, in trying to disclose the mental growth and
change in my brother, by the various means which his
life afforded. It is not so much to tell what he did, as
to show what he was, which I have kept before me as
my aim in the biography.
In narrating his missionary experience, however, I
have been fortunate in being able to give it entirely in
his own words, and I hope that the acquaintance with
him formed from the first part of the Life may help
the reader to understand and appreciate more fully the
character which lies behind the journals and letters.
The account of missionary labor, although based on
a short eighteen months' experience, will perhaps be
found to have a special value through this very limit



PREFACE.                   v
ation, since it is freed from a confusing repetition of
similar scenes, while the time is long enough to allow
an exhibition of the various sides of missionary life.
The freshness of the impressions which the traveller
recorded was saved from the danger of error and superficiality by the previous theoretic knowledge which his
study had given him, and by the companionship of
older residents.
I have not thought to raise a broken shaft over my
brother's grave, for I cannot think of him as one having an untimely end, but as one who was permitted to
show a rarely completed life within the compass of a
few years. It was the rapid, but healthy development
of his nature which induced me, with perhaps too partial an interest, to be more particular in my narrative
than the reputation of the subject would naturally warrant. But after all, now that the record is finished, I
am oppressed with the thought how inadequate must
be any biography to reflect the life of a man.  To
those who knew my brother, this book will doubtless
bring back his image in many lights; for those who
knew him not, I can only hope that it will make them
wish that they had known him.
BOSTON, JUI/Y, 1864.








CONTENTS.
CHAP.                                              PAGE
I. CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH.....................  1
II. COLLEGE-LIFE - FRESHMAN YEAR........... 21
III. COLLEGE-LIFE-LAST THREE YEARS......... 49
IV. A YEAR IN THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY AT ANDOVER................................ 72
V. A YEAR OF EXPERIMENT.................... 87
VI. COMPLETION OF THEOLOGICAL STUDY........ 107
VII. ORIENTAL STUDIES.......................... 123
VIII. ENTERPRISES - LAST MONTHS IN AMERICA... 137
IX. THE VOYAGE AND THE LANDING............ 164
X. STAY IN MADRAS........................... 179
XI. JOURNEY FROM MADRAS TO MADURA........ 200
XII. RESIDENCE IN MADURA..................... 223
XIII. HOME AT PERIAKULAM.*...*.*.......-.*.   278
XIV. ON THE PULNEY HILLS.....................        303
XV. RETURN TO THE PLAINS -TOURING.......... 330
XVI. SEARCH AMONG CROMLECHS................. 356
XVII. LAST LABORS-DEATH AND BURIAL......... 367
XVIII. CONCLUSION................................ 386
INDEX...................................... 397




It is not growing like a tree
In bulk, doth make man better be;
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sear:
A lily of a day
Is fairer far, in May,
Although it fall and die that night;
It was the plant and flower of light.
In small proportions we just beauties see;
And in short measures life may perfect be.
From a Pindaric Ode on the Death of Sir H. Mforison.
BEN JONSON.




LIFE AND LETTERS
OF
DAVID COIT SCUDDER.
CHAPTER I.
CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH.
[1835-1851.]
DAVID COIT, seventh child of Charles, and eldest
of the children of Charles and Sarah Lathrop [Coit]
Scudder, was born on the 27th of October, 1835, in
Boston, Mass., U. S. A. The family was of Puritan
origin, tracing its lineage on one side to Governor Winthrop, on the other, to a Scudder of the earliest days of
Massachusetts Bay. Two brothers of the name, joining
the young colony, had separated: one going to New Jersey, where his descendants abound, the other remaining
at Barnstable on Cape Cod. For two hundred years
this latter branch has kept its place on the sandy cape,
and during most of the period has extended its name
but a short distance from the original seat. Like most
families similarly established, it has had little part in
that westward emigration which removes the hearthstones from so many New-England homes. It is not
the rich soil of the West, but the unplanted deep lying
to the East, which entices the young men of Cape Cod.
They sail over the seas to distant lands, or, if less
1




2              LIFE AND LETTERS OF
ambitious, coast to the Banks as fishermen. A more
permanent removal is to Boston, where mercantile life
attracts, especially that connected with the sea.
It was at the beginning of this century that our
father, missing, by one of those notable seeming accidents, the vessel which was to have started him on a
sailor's life, came to Boston and began the hard work
of an apprentice in business. Before he was of age,
he was enabled to undertake business on his own account, and for fifty years continued as a hardware and
commission merchant, when he retired from active partnership. Of his business-life little need be said. He
was so long identified with the city, that, without seeking distinction, he was widely known. His reputation
for honor and integrity in the conduct of his business
was of the highest kind, while his sound judgment
made him an excellent adviser and trustee.  He had
lived in Boston thirty years when he married Miss
Coit, who, though born and educated in New York,
was of New-England parentage and ancestry. Through
the Manwarings and Saltonstalls her lineage is traced
to Winthrop; and the families by which she was thus
connected to the Governor had centred chiefly about
Norwich, Connecticut.  Our father and mother were
thus Puritan in origin and they preserved the principles of Puritan life, relieved of the severity which an
earlier necessity had imposed upon Puritan manners.
The same principles held in the conduct of the household, while the peculiar state of society in Boston at
that time made more imperative that jealous ward
which Puritanism is wont to exercise over its followers.
Dissent from the Trinitarian creed had resulted in




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.               8
the separation of the Congregational Church into two
sects, - the Orthodox, holding to the old belief, and the
Unitarian. A separation in society had followed, quite
radical at first, from the conviction, on the part of the
Orthodox, that the matter in dispute was of vital importance and affected the dearest interests of every man:
they dreaded worldly-mindedness as leading to laxity
of belief, and gave their adhesion to a code of manners
which they considered as witnessing to their system of
doctrine. The Unitarians, as a body, conformed to an
outward state, opposing that of the Orthodox, and intended as a protest against it: accusing their antagonists of an unchristian rigor of life resulting from a
narrow and slavish belief, they asserted for themselves
what they called a more generous life, the offspring of a
more liberal faith. In 1835 the two parties had been
so long separated as to have in some measure escaped
from the anger which followed the open rupture; the
increased intercourse between them had disabused each
of erroneous notions respecting the other, and the extension of family relations served still more to produce
common feeling; but, after all, the antagonism remained, even if robbed of its harshest features; and a
child born in a family holding decided views respecting
the controversy, was likely to grow up under social
influences representing and enforcing these views.
Our father was a firm supporter of the Orthodox
belief, a prominent member of the Orthodox connection, and, as Deacon in Union Church, (Essex Street,)
an active promoter of the interests of his church. The
schools to which he sent his children were, with the
exception of the public schools, under Orthodox direction; their amusements and occupations, when touch



4             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
ing questions of moral advantage, were made to conform
to the standard of Orthodox principles; and in all parts
of their education a jealous care was exercised, lest they
should become lax in religious belief and worldlyminded in their habits of life. In the conduct of the
household, there was recognition of some more profound meaning in life than could find expression in
mere enjoyment of living, while the presence of a real
religious sentiment banished that counterfeit solemnity
which would hang over innocent pleasure like a cloud.
Yet, while this indicates the principles which governed
in our home education, the informing life which saved
the principles from producing formalism, or a violent
repulsion, was the personal presence of our father.
He was the sunniest-minded of men as he was
physically the heartiest: throughout a long life he had
scarcely a day of sickness; and with equal truth it can
be said that he never suffered in mind those bilious attacks which so few escape; the sunshine within seemed
to chase away morbid abstractions.  He led a life of
peace, which was no mere avoidance of difficulties, but
a positive superiority to them; he suffered reverses and
failures, he passed through grievous trials, but he kept
his spirit in contentment; his mind was in perfect peace.
There was a light within of holy love, which shone
through the thin casement of his daily life with increasing brightness as he neared the end of his days. Life
never became wearisome to him, for nothing was foreign from his concern. The generous instincts of childhood grew with the growth of his mind; and it is not
easy to over-state the hearty pleasure with which he
entered upon whatever engaged his attention; and
these things were often the affairs of others, for he in



DAVID COIT SCUDDER.              5
vited confidence by the readiness of his interest. No
coldness, no indifference even, could last in his genial
presence; his very smile was a benediction, and strangers were drawn to him by the irresistible charm of his
countenance.
It may be judged how bright he made his home. It
wras a Puritan home; the " Assembly's Shorter Catechism " was learned in it; the " Sabbath was strictly observed," as the saying is; there was no anxiety to meet
the world half-way and shake hands with it; and yet,
contrary to a general prejudice, there could have been
no home where a merrier laugh went up, and more
unaffected, abundant, rational enjoyment prevailed.
There was seriousness indeed among the elders, for life
seemed no trifling matter when they looked so confidently to a divided state in the world beyond, and a
graver tone existed than might have arisen had that
belief received no outside assaults. The children could
not but perceive this seriousness; and if that had been
the burden of their elders' lives, they would likely
enough have been utterly repelled from a religion so
sombre. But if they looked in the father's face, they
knew that religion had not spoiled his life: as they grew
older, they saw that it had renewed and enriched it.
There were four older children in the family at the
time of David's birth. WTithin three years, two more
boys were added; and, except that the oldest two sons
were shortly after married and established in Boston,
the family remained quite unbroken for twenty-five
years. The house in which David was born was in
Temple Place, but his recollections of childhood centred chiefly about the one afterward occupied in Essex
Street, near Lincoln. At that time the neighborhood




6              LIFE AND LETTERS OF
was a pleasant one; directly opposite stood the Orphan Asylum with its open grounds, and the adjoining buildings, though plain, afforded decent company.
Near the head of the street, at the corner of Rowe,
stands Union Church, the ecclesiastical home of the
family. The private school, to which David was sent
when a child, was kept by Mrs. Lothrop and her
daughters in the basement of the First Congregational
Church, in the same neighborhood; while in the opposite direction, at an equal distance from the house,
was the East-Street Grammar School, where his public
school-days were passed.
It was a simple but varied life that we led. There
was comfort, without display, in the household economy,
and pleasure was preferred when it brought the least
worry.  The family contained within itself abundant
sources of enjoyment. The family connection, too, was
large, and a constant interchange of visits took place;
so that from one year's end to the other, new faces appeared or absent old ones reappeared, creating a brisk
feeling in the house, and keeping alive that sort of
hearty cheer which seems to result from a great deal of
welcoming and shaking of hands. A city-life, under
any circumstances, furnishes a fund of novelty to citizens and strangers alike; and as we were content with
the more simple forms, ennui was unheard of. There
always were concerts and lectures for the elders, shows
and celebrations for the children; there were Whig
torch-light processions, when the house was illuminated,
and Democratic ones, when all the shutters were closed
except one in the top story, where we stood huddled
together to peep at the sight of what we would by no
means countenance.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.               7
The church-relations, also, it may easily be inferred,
gave character to the daily life.  The children had
less part here, but came in for a share of the interest.
By what mysterious power was it that meetings of the
Maternal Associations were exalted in our eyes to the
dignity of state occasions, especially that yearly one at
the minister's house when we received each an apple
and a cake, invested by the ceremony with a superior
nature, and eaten slowly, as if they were some exotic
fruit? A more serious and thought-provoking occasion
was the eventful day when we were graduated from the
Maternal Association, with the diploma of book and note
from the Secretary, telling us that we had now reached
the limit of thoughtless childhood, and were thenceforth left somewhat to ourselves, though never beyond
the reach of the circle of praying mothers.  Surely,
with a tender child a new feeling of responsibility is
suggested by this simple ceremony, and it was desired
in our Christian society to produce such a result.
If the seriousness, the habit of seeking for religious
foundations in all enterprises, which held among the
elders, was unconsciously transmitted to the children,
whatever direction religious enthusiasm took in the
church was even more quickly and more fully taken
by the responsive enthusiasm  of the children of the
church.  Thus was it with reference to the Foreign
Missionary work, which at that time excited, perhaps,
more lively interest from its intimate connection with
the church-life in Boston.  The missionaries to any
point sailed firom  the city, and became individually
known to the churches.  Their visits were made the
occasion for special fervor of feeling.  The Scripture
promise, of a multiplication of homes to those who




8              LIFE AND LETTERS OF
should leave one for the gospel's sake, was fulfilled in
the hospitality extended to every member of the missionary body, however humble; and when such a
one went on his way, the ship which carried him was
watched by hundreds of eager eyes, and remembered
in hundreds of praying families. The more prominent
of these missionaries, those gifted with special powers
of eloquence, or who had enjoyed long experience
abroad, were received with proportionate attention, and
their presence would form the topic of conversation,
and be turned to the increase of the missionary enthusiasm.
The enthusiasm extended, naturally enough, to the
humblest and youngest. The Sunday-schools had their
missionary societies; and in such day-schools for young
children as were under Orthodox direction an interest
in the cause was promoted. David, once enumerating
in a paper the causes of his missionary purpose, named
first the influence of Mrs. Lothrop, his school-teacher;
and it is certain that pains were taken by the more devout Christians to give such a tendency to the thoughts
of their children or pupils. These learned to associate
the missionary with all that was especially heroic.
They were not taught to regard him as a man who
had made a sacrifice of all that was pleasant in life,
and had done violence to his nature; they knew him
as the highest type of an excellence which they were
daily bidden to strive after, and understood that the
most cherished desires of their parents, the most earnest prayers, would be fulfilled if they were to attain
the same position. I have happened to read the personal experience of many young missionaries contemporary with my brother, and in almost every case there




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.              9
is reference to the wishes of Christian parents as strong
motives for their subsequent choice. My brother gave
as a second motive in his case, " My mother's wishes."
Our father's house was always open to the missionary, and none sailed from the city whose acquaintance
he did not take pains to make. Most of them were
visitors at the house. Certainly no one gave them a
warmer welcome or a more earnest farewell. Among
the most noticeable of these men was Dr. John Scudder, missionary in India, whose personal presence, more
thin that of any other man, I suppose, kindled the
enthusiasm of the fiiends of missions in Boston.  His
name, from the first, attracted our father's interest,
although the identity of the two families ceased here,
since they were removed from a common origin by six
generations or more. The strong bond of a common
object, however, stood in the place of blood-relationship, and ever after a close attachment existed between
the two families, which had frequent opportunities of
expression, since Dr. Scudder was accompanied and
followed to India, from time to time, by a large family
of sons, the youngest of whom, years afterwards, sailed
for India in the same ship with David.
Dr. Scudder was known, and is now remembered in
large part, by the power which he displayed in interesting and impressing children. Whether he was the
first to give special attention to this matter, I do not
know; but he succeeded in leaving a vivid impression
upon the minds of the children of Orthodox families.
Possibly this vividness owed much to the striking person of the man. A childish recollection presents him to
me as tall and commanding, with very white and erect
hair, generally adorned, while he was making an ad



10             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
dress, with gold-bowed spectacles that had been pushed
up from the nose; a penetrating eye that fixed attention, and a voice that could terrify as well as please.
Indeed, there was considerable spice in his addresses
of suttees and self-torture.  Yet, despite or perhaps
through this element of terror, he wrought to great
effect. The fervor of his manner, which was impressively solemn at times, and the excitability of his temperament, made children listen to him, and come away
with a sense of accountability to him in the matter of
personal devotion to the work of missions; for it was
a frequent word of the Doctor's that he should expect
to meet this child and that in India, - yes, at the very
landing-place in Madras; and many a one, in the simplicity of a child's reasoning, felt it incumbent upon
him not to disappoint his confident friend. My brother
was very susceptible to personal influence of this sort;
and whlen Dr. Scudder, then staying at our father's
house, laid his hands upon his head, and — far as his
authority went - set him apart for missionary work in
India, he gave implicit assent, and exhibited thereafter
a child's unquestioning enthusiasm  for his venerable
friend and for the cause which he represented.  His
teacher relates that she found it easy, in those days, to
check his rebellious spirit by appealing to his honor as
her little missionary.  And in the paper to which I
have referred, he gives the third and last cause of his
decision, "Dr. John Scudder's personal interest and
influence over me."
If Dr. Scudder had not put in the first claim for my
brother's services, perhaps he might, in after-years,
have chosen the Nestorian people for this labors, so
strongly was he affected by the visit to this country of




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.              11
the Nestorian Bishop, Mar Yohannan, who came in
company with Dr. Justin Perkins, and stayed awhile at
our father's house. The swarthy Oriental, with his
flowing robes, entering our New-England home, was
like a story from the " Arabian Nights."  Half in terror, but fascinated by his presence, the children of the
family watched the guest and followed him  in his
walks. David was engrossed with this wonderful sight,
and for years always kept in his room a print of the
Bishop, with turban and robes and sweeping beard
attending a most lordly mien, and treasured up little
relics that once had belonged to him.  His early interests always kept their place. It was not long before
his death, that, wishing to institute some closer connection between the native Christians of his mission and
those in other parts of the world, lie induced one of
them  to write a letter to Mar Yohannan, which was
answered, though my brother never saw the reply.
It is easier to state the special influences which affect
early boyhood than to lay hold of and measure those
of a by-character, which may yet be quite powerful.
If one would see what manner of man this child would
be, he must observe him not only under the schoolmistress' eye, paying his tribute to Dr. Scudder's power,
and guarded by the ordinances and habits which ruled
in the church and household-life of a conscientious
Orthodox family, lie must see him also in his streetlife and in his experience at a public school.  But just
this side is the most difficult to present by incidents.
One would have seen him, in those days, a whitehaired, excitable boy, brimming with life, never knowing a listless moment, hurrying from  school to play,
trapping pigeons in the freight dep6ts, acting out all




12             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
his boyish notions of Indian warfare, and going through
the whole zodiac of a boy's sports with untiring zeal;
forming warm attachments to a curiously chosen band
of school-boys and neighbors; yet, by a gentleness easily
discoverable under a sturdy exterior, shrinking from
vulgarity, and obeying fearlessly an educated instinct
of pure-toned morality. He was a troublesome boy,
heady and determined; but somehow quite as obstinate
in doing disagreeable things which he felt to be right,
as in following the bent of his will when it opposed
itself to authority.  He was a little torment to his
brothers from pure love of fun, and stood in the way
of their peace provokingly; but mean and dishonorable
he never was. With a natural shrinking from inflicting pain, and an almost timid nature, he never came to
blows with his comrades, and never made any enemies;
yet he was constantly getting into half-serious quarrels,
and making up in some irresistible fashion, which kept
him always a favorite and always a vexation.
His earliest associations were of the city, with a few
summer hints of country pleasures, for which he showed
a most eager relish. To the Cape, also, our family
went every year, visiting the old homestead.  At first,
before the railway was built, the journey was the great
charm, when we were packed into a carriage and drove
at our own leisure, making two or three days on the
road. Cotuit Port, Hyannis Port, on the opposite side
of the Cape to Barnstable, and Chatham, nearer the
horn, were the visiting-places; and half of the pleasure was in the hearty zest with which our father returned to his boyish scenes, was welcomed by his old
firiends, - he seemed to know every soul on the road,
and pointed out to us his old work and play-grounds;




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            13
while we children tried for ourselves the edge of the
ocean, and fished off the rocks, that, at low tide, lie
along the shore at Hyannis like sea-monsters. David
was the most venturesome, and was in perpetual excitement at wind and wave, throwing himself, after his
impetuous manner, into the life of a Cape-Cod boy, as
if he never had lived in Boston, and scorching his feet
in a fearful manner, because he would go barefoot like
his cousins, though the sand was hot and the beachgrass sharp.
When he was eleven years of age, the family removed from the city. Some change was necessary, for
the neighborhood of the house had become changed by
the approach of the foreign population, that, with business, turns so many families out of their old homes.
The purity of the childrens' lives, however, formed the
strongest reason for moving to a place then on the
country side of the city of Roxbury, three miles from
Boston. The house was a large brick one, on Warren
Street, standing high enough to command, from its
upper windows, a noble view of the harbor, and surrounded by thirty acres of land, partially under cultivation. A half-dozen acres only were attached to the
house; but no visible boundaries separated the remainder, while there adjoined the place quite an extensive
piece of wood and pasture land, since reclaimed, together with the grounds, for building purposes, but then
affording an excellent play and roving field. Beyond
was pretty open country, with half-wild patches of
woodland and small ponds; so that, with the city at
handy distance on one side, and the country on the
other, abundant variety of scenery and occupation was
furnished. It was no great distance either to the water



14             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
side, where the harbor pushes its way to the border of
Roxbury and Dorchester, affording a capital swimmingplace.
The restless activity which, with David, had spent
itself in street sports and on such pets as a city yard
would permit, found in the country unlimited range;
and as he had a healthy practical side to his nature,
all possible pleasure and good seemed contained in a
farmer's life. He became instantly all alive to such
pursuits, and was by no means a play-farmer boy, but
one in good earnest. He had his plot, where he made
vegetables grow whether they would or not, watching
them with untiring vigilance; he kept liens and pigs,
which always throve under his care; and in the larger
cattle he seemed to claim an ownership by the interest
which lie showed in them; while to his collection of
pets, rabbits, pigeons, and fancy fowl, he gave the
most zealous attention. His generous and simple nature showed itself in the intense interest which he felt
in the tribe of animals about him; he loved them
almost as if they were children, not with any foolish
sentimentalism, but with a wholesome, hearty affection.
I remember an instance of that steadfast, unflinching
affection with which David held to anybody or anything once finding a place in his heart, in the persistence with which he clung to a house-dog when it grew
old and was afflicted with a loathsome disease. Nep
had some horrible ulcer in his head, and spent his days
flapping his ears and howling and rolling over and over,
but David stood stoutly by his shaggy and disgraced
friend, walked with him, played with him, defended
him against all the reproaches of those unable to find
Nep endurable, and never bated one jot of his affec



DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             15
tionate care to the end. The end was the drowning
of the poor animal, after David had entered college, and
he writes home, upon hearing of it, " I had a real crying spell over Nep. However, I am glad he is dead."
The same strong attachment took hold of the place
itself. He scoured all the country about in his walks
and sports, knew the wood-paths and the depths of the
ponds; and afterward, when he had left college and the
family had returned to the city, he took many an excursion to the place and lingered about his old haunts.
May-day became a sort of anniversary to him, when he
would walk out to Roxbury, lie down in the woods
overlooking the pond where he had skated and fished,
or sent Nep in on errands after sticks and stones, and
mingle these recollections with ardent anticipations. It
was a most hearty and natural life which he led in those
davs, entering with such contagious zest into all his pursuits, and finding in the free air which bore his shouts a
spirit akin to his own, in his dog bounding beside him a
companion that could respond to his exuberance better
even than his playfellows.
Of playfellows he had an abundance, both because
he was so popular and because his father's place afforded
such a capital rendezvous. Something always was going on. iUp early in the morning, he was out feeding
his dependants in the barn-yard; rushing off to his plot
with Nep at his heels; riding the horse bareback or
chasing his rabbits; running to school across fields at
the last moment, and coming in out of breath with just
enough surplusage of spirits to keep him on the verge
of disgrace or difficulty; rushing for the bats or the
football at recess, and going home on the same fast run
which never fell off into a saunter; using every spare




16             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
moment at noon for farm-work; repeating the morning
in the afternoon, and ending the day in a race with
his dog up or down street, or across the pasture. In
short, one remembers him in those days as half intoxicated with life, wilful in his love of freedom, and
impatient of all restraint. His wilfulness frequently was
obstinacy; he was a hard boy to manage, but down at
the bottom of his heart, beneath the rough exterior,
was a strong love, and in all his actions one could read
the manly stuff of which he was made.
Shortly after the removal to Roxbury he was sent
to the Latin School of the town, and spent four years
in immediate preparation for college.  Mr. Charles
Short, now President of Kenyon College, was the
master of the school, and under his instruction David
formed a more thorough, and at the same time more
genial acquaintance with the classics than falls to the
lot of most lads not living in the city. He always was
extremely apt at acquiring language, and indeed so
glib in his use of a tongue as to be obliged to guard
against the superficiality of ready linguists. His taste
for pure nonsense took the form of a liking for outlandish vocables, and kept him not only airing his new
languages at odd moments, but also contriving new
combinations and discoursing in tongues unknown even
to himself. When he came to exercise himself upon
the Tamil speech, he found his organs of utterance in
a tractile condition which may have owed something
to these boyish practices. For mathematics he had no
inclination, while letter-writing and composition of
any kind were very distasteful.  This was natural
enough, for he had not yet begun to think; he was
thoroughly a boy in his entire freedom from speculative




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             17
habits; he did not know what an abstraction was, and
indeed pure meditation never was very natural to him;
his mind seized most firmly upon what was presented
in some concrete form. His early letters, few enough
in number, are amusing for the naivete with which this
outness of life is displayed; he begins with what he
has last seen, and if, before he has finished the account,
something comes to interrupt it, down goes a notice of
that in a parenthesis, and then he resumes his thread.
I think that he went through his preparatory course
with very little intellectual excitement; his quickness
and habit of obeying, rather than any fondness for
study, carried him through with credit.
It was this habit of attending to what was right at
hand which gave him so tenacious a hold of life, and
induced such hearty concern for all his interests and
associations. Thus in school he studied hard; in playtime he played with a will; and as for all the drudgery
of farm-work, he entered into it with a spirit which
never flagged. It was not strange, therefore, that places
and animals and friends to whom he had given so much
of himself should have a strong hold upon his affections.  Toward his school - comrades he never grew
cool. In after-years he would come home delighted at
having met in the street some one of them whom perhaps he had not seen for years; he sought them out
and cared for their spiritual interest when that became
the chief thing in his mind; and in his letters from
India, would sometimes break out into a naming of one
after another of his playmates, with whom school connection was quite all that he had ever had, and ask a
remembrance of them should his brothers ever chance
upon them.
2




18            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
He was as true to his nature when in the church as
when in the school-room  or the playground.  His
religious training, both at home and abroad, was of
that kind which looks to firm foundations of religious
belief. It was taught him that nothing short of a radical change of heart would answer the requirements of
God's word. All the ordinances of religion acknowledged the necessity, and there was no room left for the
satisfaction of conscience short of this complete change.
David's naturalness and love of truth would have revolted at any suggestion of assuming a concern which
he did not feel, while his Puritan instinct and education
made him accept without question the religious observances which were required of him. He had no liking
for these, but he kept to them with particular obstinacy
when they happened to be rather disagreeable or unpopular, and was wholly indifferent to ridicule.  I
remember how, when he saw one coming whom he
disliked and whom he knew to be seeking him for the
sake of giving advice upon matters of religion, he
jumped behind a stone wall and mischievously watched
him through the chinks as he went by, looking about in
astonishment at the sudden disappearance of the boy;
and I remember also how, wishing to complete a reading of the Bible within some appointed time, and finding himself in arrears, he read the book at every spare
moment with a ludicrous energy, - in the barn, on the
school-house steps in recess-time, or wherever opportunity occurred, quite regardless of quip or remonstrance.
The missionary zeal which had possessed the child
found in the boy no outward expression at least, for he
understood very well that missionary life was condi



DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             19
tioned on a religious character which he did not pretend to have.
He regarded going to college as a matter which he
could not very well avoid, and he did not therefore
worry himself much about it, though he thought it
rather an unnecessary measure for one who was to be
a farmer. It was the height of his ambition now to
emigrate West in a covered wagon, containing his
goods and chattels, while he walked beside in a smock,
and a dog ran beneath the wagon with that studied
precision of gait which always astonished him. The
summer before he entered college he spent upon the
large farm of a relation in Wethersfield, Connecticut,
where he was thoroughly in his element, working with
a zeal and steadiness which won the praises of the
farmer himself, generally incredulous of the agricultural
fever of city-boys. " To-day," he writes, after recounting the glories of his life there, " I am going to study,
although I do hate to. I do not want to go to college,
but should like to stay here all the time. If I stay
here much longer I shall be a decided farmer." His
father, always ready to humor the taste of his sons,
knew that he was too young to decide for himself, so
he required at least a year or two of college-life before
letting him have his way in this. David's habit of obedience had more force than his mere inclination, and he
entered on college-life with his customary heartiness,
which never permitted any " might have beens " to interfere with the business at hand. His parents, solicitous
first of all for his spiritual welfare, indicated a preference
for Williams College, where education was under guard
of Orthodox principles, and where a man was the head




20             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
whose name, besides its renown in philosophic inquiry,
was a security for the maintenance of those principles
in their integrity. David joined the Freshman Class
of the college in September, 1851, just before the close
of his sixteenth year.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            21
CHAPTER II.
COLLEGE LIFE —-FRESHMAN YEAR.
[1851-1852.]
"MY earliest recollections of Dave," writes one of
his classmates, " is of seeing a white-haired boy in short
jacket dart out of the house next above mine, at recitation-time, and move up the street on a keen run. That
was his usual street-gait; indeed I cannot seem to associate him with a sober walk at all." His boyishness
at the first marked him, for though there were some in
the class younger in years, these were every one more
mature, and at any rate concealed much of their youth
under the cloak of college dignity. David was a boy in
mind and in manner, - wholly unconventional in his
habits, with an instinct of freedom which at home sent
him roaming over the fields, and showed itself also in
a determined will, a capricious impatience of restraint.
The change in his outward life brought influences
which acted upon his growth with great force, and
produced a more rapid development than would have
seemed possible under other circumstances. At home
his love for nature, which was one manifestation of his
instinct of freedom, had fed upon the decorous forms
of suburban beauty; now he came suddenly upon the
mountains and rushing streams and untamed tracts of
northern Berkshire. He knew not why, but he knew
how much this wildness and unshorn strength responded
to his instinctive desires, and at once threw himself




22             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
eagerly into out-door life, without a thought of anything beyond a natural liking for it, and yet surely
receiving in return the fullest reward.
To those unfamiliar with this district, it would be
hard to convey a notion of its impressive character.
The town itself rests upon the uneven surface of a valley surrounded by hills, which rise in several instances
to the dignity of mountains as regards height, and in
almost all cases have the gullied declivities characteristic of the mountain formation. The valley through
which the Hoosac River flows is cultivated, and contains many spots of tender beauty; especially is this
tenderness discovered when looked at from East Mountain which banks the river, but the prevailing impression made by the scenery is of a ruder, wilder force.
The roads which lead in various directions, connecting
the town with North Adams, with Pittsfield, with Bennington, and with Troy, either follow the winding course
of streams or climb and descend successive hills, so that
by no one of the travelled ways can one fail to find
variety of scenery, sudden surprises, and often pretty
rough passage. But the roads do not reveal the chief
wonders of the country.  Only one who climbs the
mountain-paths, and strikes off from the rocky roads to
follow a brook or reach some remote patch of wood or
pasture land, learns the secrets of this wild and glorious
spot.
The tops of the surrounding mountains were the
goals which my brother, with his restless eagerness, from
the first desired to reach. He seized the opportunity
of every holiday to climb Greylock or West or East
Mountain, and cast his straining look to the horizon,
sweeping an arc which embraced, sometimes the scarred




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.               23
sides of other mountains, and sometimes the quiet farms
and still life of the valley. Part of his satisfaction was
in the rough ascent, before which he was undaunted
and in which he never faltered, in the bracing air of
the heights, and in the sensation of animal vigor; part
in the wide range of vision and the fuller life which
seems to flow about one on those solitary summits.  I
can see him now, upon the top of' Greylock, as he describes himself in an early letter, going away from the
smoky tower and the groups of uproarious students, to
a lonely rock looking off upon the broad view, and
shouting forth, in the exultation of his spirits, the morning song which Milton puts into Adam's mouth, beginning, -
"These are Thy glorious works, Parent of Good,
Almighty. Thine this universal frame."
It always did him good to shout. I never was with
him under similar circumstances but that he would
give expression to his excitement in one or two prodigious yells, after which the quieter thoughts and emotions would have their turn in a pertinacious silence.
This shouting or singing aloud by himself was a favorite occupation; it was, to use a common simile, a way
of letting off steam.  I remember how, once in his
Senior year, walking alone upon one of the Williamstown roads, no one in sight, he was bawling at the top
of his voice, when suddenly, upon turning a corner, he
came full upon the college President, who was as much
entertained as David was confused at the encounter.
From the very first he entered upon this hearty outdoor life. Indeed, he was so fresh in his enjoyment of
it, so boyish in his way of engaging in it, that his
friends were all the while kept amused by his freaks.




24             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
The longer walks could only be taken on holidays; but
the hills, which were at an easy distance from the college, afforded an opportunity for numerous short excursions.'Flora's Glen, a wild ravine, and Stone Hill
were his favorite haunts. On the latter he began to
set rabbit and squirrel traps as soon as he had become
fairly domiciled. He had rather meagre success, considering the pains he took; but that made no difference. Almost every day, alone or with a comrade, he
would trudge up the steep hill to look after his traps;
and when he did catch an animal, he made his friends
nearly as much interested as himself, by the contagion
of his enthusiasm.  His early letters always contain
some notice of a hunt after rabbits, apples, or nuts,
what new style of trap he meant to contrive, and how
he had learned to skin his captives. He joined the
Lyceum of Natural History, then in a most impoverished and unsteady condition; and although he never
brought much scientific learning into the meetings, he
had such a healthy enthusiasm that he was a valuable
member of the society.
His first winter in Williamstown quite intoxicated
him, one might think.  The long, blustering, and
stormy season which shrivels up a good many students,
and makes Williams' graduates shiver as they recal it,
seemed to bring out all the glow of his nature. In
those early days, with a sort of stubborn hardihood, he
disdained great-coats, and never would wear them until
the severity of two or three Williamstown winters and
the sensitiveness of a changing physique forced him into
them; he always displayed a ludicrous horror of them,
as if they would make him effeminate. His classmates
remember his grotesque appearance that Freshman win



DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             25
ter, as, wearing his boyish roundabout, but no coat, his
feet encased in enormous India-rubber boots, his hands
in great fur gloves, and his head smothered under a fur
cap, he would clatter down West College staircase,
dragging at his heels the sled of which he was so
proud.
His growth in character was favored not only by the
wild and fascinating country, which called forth his
instincts of freedom and gave force and direction to his
nature, but also by separation from home and the consequent necessity for self-dependence. He was much
younger in mind and experience than most boys of his
age, and, in common with all who lead an instinctive
life, had accepted with implicit confidence the guidance
of his superiors. He was slow in assuming responsibility, even in minor matters of college experience; he
felt no disposition to release himself from his accustomed dependence. In nothing was his inexperience
more noticeable than in his absolute freedom from
"' knowingness." I take the word of one of the most
observing of his classmates when I say that it was a
thing rare and quite unexampled to find one who, like
David, had spent his early days in the streets of Boston, and all of his youth in public schools, with almost
unrestrained choice of associates, so incredibly ignorant
of what is called " the world." Not long after entering college, some allusion was made, in the chat of a
knot of students, when David was present, to a classmate who had been drunk the night before. Nothing
so very astonishing to them in this, however else they
might regard it; but David was aghast. "Drunk!"
said he; " a fellow in college, and in our class, drunk!
Why, I did not know that any one in college ever was




26             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
drunk! "  His incredulity must have been matched by
that of his companions at his unheard-of simplicity.
This is but a single example of his ignorance of evil,
and also of his naive frankness in admitting the ignorance.
How much his home education and how much his
semi-country life had served as safeguards against a
familiarity with forms of evil, it is impossible to say;
but it is most natural to refer his ignorance of the
world to his own straightforward and transparent character, under the favoring influence of a religious training. His simplicity of nature would not invite, but
rather check solicitations of evil; an education based
upon firm principles of the highest morality fortified
his natural security against gross temptation; and,
finally, his whole-souled absorption in out-door life
furnished an escape for his animal vigor. The same
causes conspired to protect him, now that he was
brought into more immediate contact with evil, and
was also left more to his own control. Danger there
was, and he drew a long breath in after-years as he
considered what he had escaped. What he might have
been, he could see in the wrecks about him of boys
who had come up to college with much the same freshness that belonged to him, but who had not withstood
the shock of evil communications.
The students at Williams then numbered about two
hundred and forty, distributed pretty equally among
the four classes. The college formed a community by
itself distinct from the village; and since it was so
small a community, and so dependent upon its internal
resources for comfort and pleasure, there was more
mutual acquaintance than holds in larger colleges and




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             27
in those near cities. Many knew not only their own
class well, but a large portion of the upper or lower
classes. The societies brought men together, and it was
consequently a pretty compact community, in which
each individual with difficulty remained aloof.  The
country element was dominant, and served to give a
certain tone to the society there which it is hard exactly to describe.  In part, a sturdy independence
belonged to many of the countrymen, the result perhaps of an early necessity of self-reliance; a high estimate of the value of education; and a determination
to make the most of college, giving a healthy tone to
the life there.  With this frequently was associated
a pettiness and narrowness of conduct, a ridiculous
eagerness for small distinction, an incorrect understanding of what college could do for them, and a ludicrous
exaggeration of the grandeur of the college equipments.
All this was tempered by a certain infusion of city civilization, in the form of a generosity running too often
into recklessness; a courtesy which is bred of intercourse with cultivated men and women, but which, in
the weaker sort, became mere foppishness; an acquaintance, moreover, with the refinement of learning, a side
rarely exposed to the country seeker after wisdom.
Though a city-boy, David was strongly countryish in
his inclinations.  His taste, which led him  to take
pleasure in the worth of men, unaffected by their social
culture, was confirmed here, and a habit induced of
measuring men generally by a more liberal standard
than refined society is apt to adopt.
His intercourse with his college-mates threw him
among those who were older and more accustomed to
self-management. They were wonders of wisdom and




.28            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
experience in his eyes, and he looked up to some even
in his own class with a real veneration. He accepted
implicitly the lead of these, transferring to them the
faith which he had reposed in his superiors at home.
Yet every new experience added to his self-reliance, and,
after the novelty of college-life had worn off a little, he
began quite unconsciously to live less instinctively, and
to bring some reflection to bear upon his position. One
can hardly speak too positively of the absence hitherto
of any exercise of thought as directed toward himself;
he lived freely and outwardly as a child. The new
atmosphere of college, however, where he found his fellows engaged upon subjects of thought quite beyond
his wondering mind, and the stimulus which a community of students supplies, did awaken thought in him.
The separation from home, too, brought an old influence in new shape,- his father's counsel, - which
would now be given through letters more systematically, and with the weight both of fatherly affection
and of remoteness. There began a kind of intercourse
which was impossible in earlier days. The entrance
of the son upon a regular educational course, away
from home, elevated him to a more independent position, and it was easy and natural for the father to address hinxr not in the tone of parental authority, but in
that of a wise man talking familiarly with his junior
whom he takes into his counsels, treating him as almost
an equal. How happily his father could use this tone
is instanced by the following extract from a letter written at this time:ROXBURY, Oct. 6, 1851.
MY DEAR SON DAVID: - YOU made us all very
happy by so long and so nice a letter, and particularly




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            29
because we found by it that you were happy and contented at Williamstown, both in respect to your college
duties and your boarding-place. I have no doubt that
the more you think of the duties that now devolve
upon you, the more you will think of the responsibility
that attaches to those duties. We have placed you in
college from the conviction, after much thought and
prayer, that your ultimate happiness and success in life
would be promoted by it. I have long felt that I never
would consent, if I could avoid it, to place any more
of my sons in the commercial life, because my own
experience is decidedly averse to it; and as to any mechanical business, unless there is a predilection that
way, or a bent of mind decidedly in favor of such pursuits, I have not thought it desirable to have any of my
sons go to a mechanical trade; but it has been the
height of my ambition to give to all my dear boys a
good education, because I have seen, in the experience
of many years, that boys, when well educated, make
men, and men that can make their way in the world
somehow; that is, if they do not abuse their privileges
by neglecting them, and giving themselves over to the
Evil One. Now if you would continue to make me
happy, you will persevere in your studies, conquer all
the obstacles that come in your way, and if you do not
gain the eminence you aim at, be careful to deserve it
by your diligence and good conduct in all respects, so
as to gain the love and good-will of your teachers and
your fellow-students.....
Your affectionate father,
CHARLES SCUDDER.
While he was in the full tide of his hearty enjoy



30             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
ment, engaging with zest in all his pursuits, setting
rabbit-traps on Stone Hill and exploring the country
about, there came news to him of severe losses in business which his father had suffered, involving the necessity of greater economy in the mode of life at home,
and possibly the removal from the country place to
which all had become so attached. In the simplicity
of his heart, he went straightway to the Professor of
Mathematics, as the authority most competent to explain to him the true nature of a failure in business,
and one also of whose good feeling and sympathy he
felt assured. After getting all the light he could, he
made up his mind promptly as to his duty.
He wrote home begging to be permitted to stay only
through the rest of the term, and then to resume his
old and cherished pursuit as a laborer upon some farm,
where he could at least relieve his father of expense,
and support himself.  "You know," he says, "that it
has long been my wish to be a farmer, and it has not in
the least abated." Meanwhile, since, at the best, this
was a measure of economy which could not be put
into execution for several weeks, he immediately made
arrangements for cutting down his already moderate
expenses. He was rooming out of the colleges, as most
Freshmen did who preferred the increased cost to the
perils and discomforts of life in the buildings. Almost
before he could get an answer to his proposition, he
had vacated his rooms and gone into West College,
taking a great barn-like room at the top of the building; besides, he applied for and obtained the position
of janitor to the recitation-room, - a position taken by
one of the poorest of each class, requiring most vexatious attention, and standing him in some trivial sum or




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             81
freedom from certain college taxes. All this was unnecessary: it was not recommended by his father; but
it was just what he could not help doing. He did not
trouble himself to reason much about it; he only considered that there must be retrenchment in the household, and that it was his business to cut down his own
expenses immediately to the very lowest point.
This occasion, so characteristically met, was important for the impulse which it gave to his thought. At
the bottom of his letter home concerning the failure, he
writes with a Freshman's ardor and confidence: "' I am
studying hard for the first place." He was aware of
the little likelihood there was that his father would
listen to his proposal, though he had made it in good
faith; since he must stay, he applied himself with zeal to
the task of making as much of college as he could. He
gave as an object of study the one which was prominent in college, not that he cared particularly for it,
but because he could not easily give a proper reason.
Really he had an excellent reason, namely, that it was
his business just now to study hard: but then he had
hardly begun to state to himself reasons for doing anything. He did things for reasons, but not much for
stated reasons.
His usual life went on much as ever. The present
and the visible were too engrossing with him to admit
of much reflection, in his untutored mind, on the uncomprehended difficulties of his father's position, or
much anticipation as to what he himself meant to do.
He continued to set his traps and to write home directions about his old pets and small stock, entering with
animation into all measures talked of at home. His
letters contained messages to every soul about the




32            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
house. This college-life was not near so much to him
as his home; it was more remote from his sympathy,
and he would sit for hours with some friend, telling of
his little world with the most simple enthusiasm. His
studies gave him no great trouble, since they were
chiefly in the classics, where he was best qualified and
where the majority of the class were most deficient.
Mathematics caused him  to groan inwardly, but he
found most delight in his manifold out-door occupations; then his labors in the recitation-room kept him
busy. He was up early on the cold mornings, sweeping the room, kindling the fire, and lighting the lamps
for the barbarous dawn recitations.  It was Freshman
recitation-room, and he found a horrible state of things
in it on some days. His class will recollect the scene
one afternoon in February, when, in the middle of the
recitation, a log of wood, flung through the window of
the adjoining wood-closet, burst the door open, and let
into the room a bewildered sheep, which David, as
janitor, proceeded to eject by catching his hind-legs
and walking him out wheelbarrow-fashion.
It was on his return to college, at the close of the
long winter vacation, that the thought which had been
working in his mind took a more fixed character, and
he began to feel within himself the stirring of conscience, demanding that he should decide the question
of personal religious duty. Ever since his connection
with the college, in accordance with his home education, he had been a frequent attendant upon the optional as well as upon the prescribed religious services
of the college. He had an unquestioning conviction
of the truth of religious doctrines, as set forth in the
Orthodox creed, without ever making any systematic




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             33
inquiry. Such an inquiry would have been impossible
to his unthinking mind; and now, when awakened to
thought, his difficulty was not in the way of intellectual
belief. The formulas of Orthodox theology, compassinog the way of salvation, were familiar to him, and the
common religious talk and appeals in the prayer-meeting were based upon an acceptation of the doctrines of
evangelical belief. The question with him, free from
all difficulty in theology, was one of simple submission
to the Divine will. He struggled long in darkness,
seeming to himself ready to submit, and yet, through
his meagre power of introspection, unable apparently to
discover the obstacle which stood between his desire
and its fulfilment. There was a conscientious perseverance and honesty in his character, which refused to
be content with anything short of full satisfaction on.
this point; nor was it possible that a will so stubborn
and determined as his should accept, without severe
struggle, the entire self-renunciation required of it.
Thus the period of his contest extended over several
weeks. His room-mate, for he had taken one at the
beginning of the term, speaking of this time, says:
" I had noticed there was something serious on his
mind, and my interest was excited by the singular circumstance of his repeating the same verse for several
days in the noon meeting:' So foolish was I and ignorant. I was as a beast before thee.' (Ps. lxxiii. 22.)
I have no remembrance of dates; but one day he came
into the room, threw himself on the floor, and began to
weep and moan and roll about, seemingly in great
agony. I went to him and talked for a while, when he
became calmer. It was that night, I think, that the
struggle was over."
3




34             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
The difficulty which lay in the way of his peace, and
which for a while he seemed not to recognize in thought,
became plain when it was stated to him by another.
One cherished purpose stood as the representative of
self, endeavoring to maintain a supremacy.  A  few
years afterward he wrote as follows to Professor Hopkills: "I well remember the day on which in anxiety
of mind I called upon you, not knowing why I did not
find peaoe in believing. You asked me if I had no
cherished purpose which stood in the way. That question at once let in a flood of light, and was the most
weighty question which I ever was called upon to answer. I saw then that the alternative was before me,
- to be a farmer and a sinner, or a missionary and a
Christian.  My bovish inclination for a farmer's life
appeared in its right light, and I was helped, I believe,
to give it up and to give myself to Christ and his
Church."
This then was the crucial test. I am confident that
he had never failed to regard the question of becoming
a Christian and that of becoming a missionary as inseparably connected for him  his decision of the latter was
a test of sincerity in deciding the former. So also he
stated it to the ecclesiastical council which ordained
him. Every way the act was characteristic. He had
early and always associated the missionary with the
most advanced stage of Christian profession. He could
not be half-way in anything he undertook, and in assuming the vows of a Christian, his whole nature hurried him on to what he regarded as the most complete
fulfilment of those vows. His being, like the cloud
which
"-moveth all together, if it move at all,"




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             35
carried him undoubting and with whole-heartedness into
the missionary idea.  Henceforth he had this ruling
purpose, and eight years afterward he could say, in the
letter to Professor Hopkins just now quoted: "Inseparable as these two acts appeared then, they have been
no less so in my feelings since that day. I have never
made any other formal committal of myself to the
work, and have never seriously wavered in my decision. Having this definite end before me so constantly
has been of immense service to me as a Christian, and
I thank God for it."
Nor was there absent the influence of personal association always strongly moving him. From the day
when old Doctor Scudder laid his hand on his head and
claimed him for the India Mission, he had felt the
touch, and when now he had decided, without recal,
to enter the missionary field, it would have been almost
as impossible to choose any other country than India,
as to have chosen any other work than the missionary.
Just before leaving college, he makes the brief entry
in his journal, " Heard of Doctor Scudder's death at
Cape of Good Hope. I can never have my desire
gratified of seeing him in India;" and eleven years
afterward, when he had closed his short career in that
distant land, a brother-missionary, arranging his library
for transmission to America, found a little paper-covered book well worn by use, but tenderly preserved.
It bore the title, " Letters to Sabbath School Children,
by Rev. John Scudder, M. D., Missionary at Madras,"
and written broadly across the fly-leaf, " Master David
Scudder, from his affectionate friend, J. Scudder, New
York, Aug. 8, 1843." This, with one or two pale letters,
the young missionary had treasured since childhood;




36            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
they were to him dear signs of the affection of his revered predecessor, and he carried them to the shores
where he had hoped to be welcomed by him. It was not
thus to be; yet surely our faith may warrant the imagination which pictures, when the two did meet, a holier
greeting than Madras beach would have witnessed.
The period of his conversion was every way the
most important epoch of his life, for it was the dividing
point between the old, impulsive, unthinking life, with
no aim beyond the nearest object, and the new life of
thought, of loyalty to an idea, - a life having a purpose
comprehensive enough to bind together all his manifold
interests, and so far-reaching as never to fail him. No
sooner had he got the clue to his existence than he followed it. A great impulse was given to his intellectual
faculties. The awakening which his thought had undergone and which had begun to reveal to him something
of himself, was aided by a, powerful agent in the sense
of its being his duty to think. His letters, both before
this and for some time to come, are faithful exponents
of the outward life which he habitually led; consequently they have very little other worth, being occupied chiefly with the commonplace news of college.
A single example will stand for all, and I select one in
which he communicates to his parents the fact of his
conversion, — it is so transparent in its display of his
character. The intelligence in the latter part is of
course wholly unimportant in itself; the significance is
in the naturalness with which he passed from religion
to rabbit-traps, and back to religion again:WILLIAMSTOWN, Feb. 21, 1852.
MY DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER: — I have just re



DAVID COIT SCUDDER.              37
turned with chum from the lecture by Professor Hopkins. The President is not very well, so he took his
place. But I attended to him with far different feelings from what I have been accustomed to, for, dear
parents, I hope that I am a Christian.  Yes, I hope
that I have made my peace with God. I can hardly
realize it. It has always seemed so far off: But how
simple a thing it is.  The great trouble with me was,
I think, unwillingness to give the world up. I went to
Professor Hopkins's house the other day to talk with
him. I came home and talked with chum some time,
and then consecrated myself to God. I felt willing to
say,' Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?'  I felt
at peace after that. It is nearly time to go to the office,
so I must close with some things of great importance
to us. First. The Gymnasium is burnt down to the
ground. I will tell you more about it in a letter soon
to be written. I want to know how much I may put
down my name for, to go toward erecting a new one.
A subscription is being taken up. Our class have subscribed one hundred and twenty dollars, so far; ten
dollars apiece for twelve students. Can I subscribe?
It is not to be paid till next term. Second. (My chum
has had a very bad stye on his eye.) That last was
written by my chum's gold pen. I made a trap to
catch rabbits with this afternoon. They are very plenty.
I saw three partridges to-day. But I must close. With
much love to all, I remain your affectionate son in
Christ,                                   DAVID.
TIis letters, and indeed all kinds of writing, were for
a long time extremely illcomplete expressions of his
character.  He was a great deal more than he could




38             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
write down of himself, or than one could discover through
his writing of any matters. It was both interesting and
amusing to watch the first efforts which he made to
train his reflective powers; the necessity of their use
had become apparent along with a sense of his deficiency, and the moral duty of using them was an irresistible plea. He felt keenly the inability to write out
his thought, which, of course, was chiefly the result of
an inability to think; so he set himself painfully, but
most doggedly to work, mastering the difficulty. He
had a composition to write as a college exercise, and
long before the dreaded day came he began his task.
One of his friends, I know not with what evil intent,
supplied him with the subject -" Independence must
have limits." David addressed himself to the task, first,
of discovering the meaning of this oracular saying, and
then of proving the assertion so positively made. Day
after day did he turn the apophthegm over in his mind;
with a ludicrous persistence he battered it with all his
mental force; at all manner of odd moments, when his
attention was detached from some more immediate matter, he would return to this, and assert stoutly to himself- "Independence must have limits;" then he
would ask himself, why it must have limits and what
limits, and where were any instances of limited and
unlimited independence. He had no sort of shame in
his helplessness, but with a comical bewilderment would
apply to his friends, startling them with the assertion,
and waiting to see what effect it had on them; whether
they might not even deny the fact, and so bring on a
discussion which would throw light upon the matter.
A vacation intervened, and I remember with what
gravity and apparent pride at possessing a piece of




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             39
wisdom of great value, he took an early opportunity to
deliver the oracle to the younger members of the family,
who, he was glad to see, felt the full mystery of the
saying. "Dear chum," he writes at this time, " I have
written ten lines of my composition'Independence
must have limits."'" Somehow or other he managed,
at last, to defend the thesis, but it was severe work for
him.
In his new and honest desire for improvement he
was the victim, like many before and since, to the systems recommended by well-meaning, but injudicious
advisers.  Method he found everywhere inculcated as
the prime condition of effective mental labor.  Of
course he read many " Letters to a Young Student," and
of course immediately, after the pattern of such books,
made piecemeal of a day already quite minutely broken
up by the regularly recurring college exercises. The
effects of this systematic dosing of himself were so natural that I quote a part of a letter in which he unconsciously betrays his sense of the artificiality of the plan.
[TO HIS MOTHER.]
It is now my time, dear mother, that I devote to
writing, or the improvement of my intellectual faculties, and I intend to devote it to the former at this
time.      lent me a book, entitled "Letters to a
Young Student," the author of which I do not know
about, but the recommendation of which is by N.
Lord, of Dartmouth College. It is a very instructive
book, and I trust that I have already gained some good
from it. Advised by it, I yesterday made out a schedule of the manner in which I propose to spend the
day. I allotted to each study a particular time, and that




40             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
part of the day not taken up in studying, I assigned to
reading, writing, or some other intellectual pursuit. I
have just finished my Latin, and have now an opportunity to answer your nice long letter. I would say, in
the first place, that you must not always expect a letter
from me Wednesday, since I cannot promise to write
invariably on Monday. Nevertheless, I shall always
endeavor to write home either on Monday or Tuesday.
I have been reading the allegory of Cheever, called
"' The Two Ways and the Two Ends." It is well worth
the reading. It contains very many beautiful thoughts
and sentiments, some of which I purpose to write down
in a book, according to another suggestion of that book.
Somehow or other I feel just like an old man; at least
I hope that I shall be more of a man than hitherto.
As his desire for improvement had mainly a religious
basis, so it was to religion that he naturally looked for
aid, and in religious exercises that he felt his deficiency
most. Entering the number of Christians, he found
them engaged in mental processes unfamiliar to him.
He heard them describe their spiritual conflicts, and
discovered in many a rigorous self-examination, which
aimed at a daily inspection of such thoughts and feelings as could be marshalled by memory. He also was
fighting daily to overcome the evil nature within him,
but he was conscious of an almost total inability to get
at and express the nature of his spiritual difficulties, or
to make any thorough inquiry into the causes of his
irregular emotions.  The difficulties he had and the
irregular emotions, but, wanting the power to put into
correct and natural language all this experience, he
adopted the current phraseology with the most honest




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.              41
purpose, while to common ears his use of it bore an
artificial sound. His letters show this most markedly,
for it was chiefly through religious topics that his pen
was first diverted from its ordinary occupation of chronicling the events in his small college-world. There is
a strained character to the religious portion of his letters at this period, not wholly lost for some time afterward, quite at variance with his customary naturalness
when speaking of common matters; yet the fault is not
in intention, but in an inability adequately to interpret
his thought and emotion.  Through all the conventional language, one must discern the glowing nature
of the young Christian, longing after perfection, making
constant discovery of his own failings, and ardent with
love for the souls of those who had not yet shared his
gift, leading him to plead with some friend in language
of unquestioned earnestness, however forced might seem
its terms.
I think this is a just explanation of a phase of religious life often displayed in young converts. With
those who never grow in mind beyond this period, such
phraseology becomes the prevailing order of the exposition of their faith; they continue to exhort and pray
in the same terms as at first, exaggerating the tone of
their address, as it loses force by repetition, until unawares they reach a habit of speaking upon religious
topics, which shocks and repels men by its apparent
insincere use of the most awful terms. They are not
themselves, nor are those like them, aware of the wide
distance which exists between the primal meaning of
the Scripture phrases which they employ, and that
which their short intellect after dull iteration gives to
them. Like many others, my brother outgrew this




42             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
unformed state, and whilst he preserved his warm feelings and tender solicitude for others, he reached also
a juster understanding of the relation between thought
and language, learning to express his ideas in a manner
more natural and simple and thus more effective.
But his intellectual inexperience betrayed him into
graver errors than a temporary resort to conventional
phrases for the expression of his poorly-worded thoughts.
With the sensitiveness of his frank nature, made more
tender by his new knowledge, he was peculiarly open
to influence from without; when he heard his fellows
relating experience in religious matters quite out of
the reach of his mind, he reproached himself for the
absence of what was impossible to him; his use of
common forms of religious sentiment to cover his deficiency of expression, if they corresponded to no distinct experience within himself, served to harass him,
since he felt that he ought in sincerity to have the feelings which a strict interpretation of his language would
presume. Perhaps also he came into contact with men
inclined to morbidness by temperament or education;
he also began to watch the thermometer of his emotional nature, with fear lest he should not maintain that
warmth of feeling which seemed to him so surely indicative of high spiritual attainment.  He always had
been subject to waywardness; his mercurial temper'suffered from all the variations of the atmosphere in
which he lived; now his moods were heightened and
deepened by an infusion of religious feeling. To what
was a constitutional fitfulness he gave a religious character; if he were depressed he accepted the mood as
necessary to one so aware of his spiritual deformity,
and grew to have a sort of pride at what he fancied an




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.              43
excessive degree of self-abasement; if his animal nature chanced to be exuberant, he connected with it his
religious aspirations, and gave thanks for a return to
the early glow of Christian purpose. Bewildered by
the vagrancy of his sensational nature, and by the painful incompleteness of his thinking powers, he stumbled
toward the light, and while he did at last receive the
reward of those that seek, he retained for a long while
the signs of this disordered period.
There was however so simple a directness in his
nature, that, despite these evil tendencies to which his
untutored mind exposed him, he did make decided
progress in Christian life, obeying those instinctive calls
of duty which he could not miss understanding, and
through this obedience gaining the power to comprehend those demands upon him which were more abstruse. Nor could his passionate attachment to free
life in the open air fail to correct a good many mistakes
which he might make over his air-tight stove. He
struggled manfully with the tyranny which his nature
had set up over him; with the imperious will, venting
itself in caprice; with the strong prejudices which seized
him so readily, and with all the turbulent force of his
passions; and if he wasted some of his blows on imaginary tyrants, the largest share went to real ones. The
struggle was carried on with intermittent force even
to the end of life, but his repeated victories over evil
had rendered it so feeble that even in his youth he had
received his reward in a spirit docile, calm and equable.
Coupled with this self-discipline, in its influence
upon his character, was the zeal with which he tried
to win others to the peace which he had obtained. As
happens in the case of most young converts, he sealed




44             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
the confession of his faith with an immediate endeavor
after the spiritual good of others. A revival of religion began in college simultaneously with his own conversion, and there was great activity among the Christian
students. David's friends were in the habit of meeting
together for prayer and talk, in his room in West College; and David, impetuous yet timid, would resolutely
shut down the disagreeable sensations in his mind, go
into his neighbors' rooms, choosing those least familiar
with such gatherings, and deliver an invitation to his
meeting as frankly and innocently as if to an oyster
supper. His letters contain disclosures of his interest in
his classmates, and in those still more dear to him. He
could not, perhaps, answer with wise care the objections which hesitating minds proposed, but he could
meet them more effectively by his unassumed earnestness, and by the sincerity of his faith; pleading personally with those whom he loved, and praying for them
with ardent desire, he brought to bear upon them after
all a more powerful and lively influence, it may be,
than mere judicious counsel would have exerted, since
in a large number of instances the objections which
the intellect opposes are only the hiding-place of an
unwilling heart, which is drawn from its refuge by the
affectionate solicitations of a kindred spirit. Not that
David's zeal was without knowledge, but that its force
lay in its contagious fervor.
I have dwelt at some length upon this epoch in my
brother's life, and its immediate results in his character
and purpose, because it is so prominent as the beginning
with him of positive growth. He did not, he could not
suffer any violence in his individuality; but while before
the force of his nature, so wide in its range, and yet so




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.              45
concentrated in all its movements, had thrown itself
into the purpose of the moment, so that his progress
was blind and vagrant, henceforth this same force,
intensified by being hemmed in, was set steadily in one
direction, from which it never swerved. He still gave
himself up with wonted eagerness to an undivided care
for that which was actually before him, following his
active impulses which called him in so many different
directions; but these momentary purposes, hitherto his
sole guides, now became subordinate to one comprehensive, ruling purpose, which forbade his life ever to
become disjointed or capriciously vagrant. The fulness
of his nature, supplying him with so many and such
varied objects of interest, was not long held in by false
or narrow opinions respecting duty; it overrode the
captious criticisms of a disordered  conscience.  He
kept his naturalness, and that, in turn, kept him.
He continued to make daily excursions to his rabbittraps, and to coast, while snow lasted, down the long
hills; he wrote long, loose, hap-hazard letters, mingling
incidents of college-life with earnest regrets of his own
coldness of heart, affectionate expostulations, and eager
inquiries after the small tribes of the barn-yard. In
college he was known for his unaffected heartiness; he
was singular enough to excite universal interest. It did
men good to hear his peculiar laugh, so clear and above
suspicion; to be pounced upon, as they were walking
gravely to prayers, by this frolicking boy, whose exuberance of spirits seemed to run over into oddness. No
one could tell what he would do next. If others were
walking soberly, he was most likely running backward
and displaying his antics.  As in his school-days, he
was perpetually falling into half-serious quarrels which




46             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
never weakened the lightest friendship; nothing seemed
to delight him more than to confound some one by the
appearance of a sudden revulsion of feeling. He had
an incorrigible propensity for making people stare, and
was led by it into all sorts of harmless jests. His roommate relates an example:"We had been together but a few days, when an
incident occurred which was characteristic of him ill
his earlier college-days, and, from what David told me,
I should infer of his boyhood also. We were carrying
up wood, and both of us in very lively mood, when
suddenly he broke out into what seemed to me a most
violent passion. He seemed uncontrollably vexed with
me, and I thought he was about to tear himself in
pieces. After he saw I was sufficiently astonished and
alarmed, which was not a little, he burst out into a loud
laugh. Nothing occurred equalling this trick in violence, but most of his succeeding odd fits were more a
reality."
Pleasant as residence at college was, there always
remained the keener delight of going home in vacation.
The ushering in of the holidays was attended by so much
circumstance that an excitable mind was kept in constant motion. Examinations and exhibitions closed the
last days of the term. Lucky students, who had contrived to anticipate the breaking-up, went off singly or
in small squads, envied by the rest, like the raven from
the ark; then the bustle of getting in readiness, and
finally the morning of departure, when there was some
anxiety lest the stout stage - driver should not have
coaches enough for all.  It was a picturesque sight
when the college broke up at the end of the spring or
summer term. The train from North Adams, the near



DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            47
est railway station, - these were days when the Troy
and Greenfield Railroad was only talked of, - started
at a very early hour, in order to connect with the
trains on the Westein Road, at Pittsfield.  This was
the usual mode of exit from the town, though slow
stages did crawl west, north, and south, if any chose to
use them. To take this train at North Adams, the
stage-coaches had to leave Williamstown at a still earlier hour, and at the end of the term a margin was
allowed for the inevitable confusion and delay attending
such an hegira. Thus long before the sun rose, and
while the dawn showed only the coldest light, one could
see, up and down the street that ran through the town,
little piles of trunks surrounded or surmounted by
sleepy students. The stages would come slowly along,
zigzagging to pick up one load after another on either
side of the way, the driver pounding at the door of
some house where he had been ordered to stop, but where
no trunk was to be seen, and where, at the last moment,
the half-clad student would tumble out, just in time
but very cross. The students on the last hill by East
College would be waiting impatiently and with some
anxiety; then the clambering up and in, the sometimes
surly, sometimes brisk salutations, until all were packed,
and the stages would roll down the hill to the rendezvous at the foot, where the driver-in-chief, stout to the
fullest requirements of stage-drivers, would go about
among the stages, with a lantern in his hand, collecting
the passage-money. It was a sleepy set that he used
to carry over, but those who had their wits were well
repaid for the loss of sleep by the sight of the kindling
dawn, though the sun would hardly be risen by the
end of the drive.




48            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
David's favorite method of going home however was
to give no warning of his approach, but to take the
noon-train, reaching the house in Roxbury after midnight, steal through the cellar-door, all a-prickle with
excitement, and lie perdu in the darkness till morning,
when he would come up into the house, swear secrecy
on any servant that might happen in sight, hide in
the closet, in a fever lest somebody should open the
door and discover him, till the family were seated at
breakfast, when he would burst forth to the astonishment of all, and his own extreme delight.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             49
CHAPTER III.
COLLEGE-LIFE- LAST THREE YEARS.
[1852-1855.]
SOPHOMORE year showed David in much the same
light as the last two terms of Freshman year; his character gained in stability and the ruling purpose held,
but the growth of his mind was slow.and marked by
few noticeable efforts. Life at Williamstown does not
present many salient points apart from those already
intimated. The town is so insignificant that it supplies
very little to interest the student. His return to college, at the beginning of a new term, brings him once
more into the routine of college-life, and so he continues until released by another vacation. Indeed, everything about the return to Williams, with a city boy
at least, seems to remind him of his separation from
the busy world. He arrives at the railway terminus,
hilarious over the comrades he has met on the way,
and mounts again the rocking stage-coach which travels the road winding among the hills into the secluded
valley. For a day or two there is the bustle of settling
down, and then all goes on as before. He passes his
days very much alike, varying the course of study with
sallies in the literary societies, and for recreation joins
in the college-games, or tramps, rides, and drives about
the country. Every Wednesday and Saturday afternoon one may find students scattered over the neighborhood, seeking the Sand-Springs which bubble up a mile
4




50             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
or two from the town, -mineral springs of the same
temperature the year round, and confined in tanks for
bathers; or the Weeping Rocks on the Pownal Road;
the Natural Bridge near Adams; the Cascade, and all
the many curious spots. Most however walk for the
pleasure of it and for the mountain-views; or, likely
enough, are incipient naturalists, with tin trunks slung
at the side for botanizing, or maybe with long butterfly
nets which they flourish about in a frantic fashion,
while sportsmen with guns and rods disappear in the
woods.
Everything in fact that the student wants for occupation he has to find close at hand; the nearest town
amusements are twenty miles off, and are hardly attractive enough then to draw many.  Such circumstances
serve to crowd the students together, and fierce little
revolutions are excited, so that generally every class
has suffered in its course some violent rupture. The
younger members of college, transported from a society
in which they were iinors to one where they enjoy the
rights of citizenship, are greatly elated with their new
consequence, and prate of college as if it were the central sun in the social system.' They take the rustic murmur of their bourg
For the great wave that echoes round the world."
The world itself comes to them once a day by the help
of the stage-driver, who enters at night, galloping his
horses through the village, and blowing his horn to call
the students to the little post-office.  For the quiet
pleasures of student-life the place is wonderfully fit.
In those days there was a barbarous custom of holding
morning prayers before sunrise sometimes; but after
all there was, to those who were not too sleepy, an




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.              51
exhilaration in this early summons to labor, and an
inspiration to be drawn from the clear morning air.
More than once has the crowd of students, filing out
of the chapel, stood still instinctively to look off upon
some sunrise when the eastern sky hung in gorgeous
show over the long mountain.
In such a life as this did David rejoice. He had no
restless discontent luring him away to forbidden pleasures and more showy entertainments than this valley
and its circle of hills could afford.  He loved his
friends, and after the first, each new year brought one
of his brothers, with whom he could share his pleasant
life. As for study, his new convictions of duty forbade
him ever to be negligent, but his immaturity of mind
prevented him from a full comprehension of the studies
in the college course; so that, while his scholarship was
always respectable and his faithfulness unimpeached, he
fell just below the " honor men" of the class. He was
a quick student and had received a schooling in the
classics more thorough than had most of the country
boys who formed the majority of his class. One accomplishment especially he possessed, upon which he
plumed himself a good deal, the art of scanning Latin
and Greek verse fluently and correctly. His native
glibness of tongue and his liking for rattle conspired to
give him a fondness for the art; ana; the class would
listen with amusement, sometimes with applause, when
as, at the given signal, he would stand in his place and
let slip from his tongue the Homeric hexameters. Mathematics he found as ever a sore burden, but a sense of
deficiency led him to make an effort at mastering the
difficulties of a science so alien from his mental cast;
and after he had been a year in college, he took up




52             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
arithmetic with a fellow-student, resolutely going back
to elementary knowledge.
Composition and all logical processes were still formidable, though his persistent efforts and his general
growth robbed them of some terror.  One plan for
acquiring a habit of thought was certainly straightforward enough, and showed him in earnest. Getting up
a half-hour earlier than even the very early prayertime required, it was his custom to pace the hall upon
which his room abutted for the express purpose of
thinking.  He would take some subject which he was
expecting to use in composition; I believe " Independence must have limits " attended some of his pacings;
or the last debate in the society hall, or some topic
which had been suggested in conversation or reading,
and for the half-hour conscientiously, as well as his
poor, untutored head would allow, discuss the matter
with himself, arguing back and forth as he walked,very much relieved, no doubt, when the prayer-bell
released him.
The course of study for Sophomore year presented
little difficulty to him except in these points, and he
fell under the influence of the prevalent mood among
Sophomores, catching a little of the indifferentism
and self-conceit which marks that stage of a student's
career.  He even so far fell into a comfortable and
complacent mood as to congratulate himself upon being
popular, and to take some pains to increase the goodwill of his comrades.  His letters were somewhat
bombastic and wordy, and he assumed a sort of consequential air which ill became him. Yet this was after
all exceptional; he caught the way from others; his
own rightful nature asserted itself more strongly, and




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             53
he made real progress, despite occasional fits of waywardness.
The Greek drama to be read this year was the
"Electra" of Sophocles. The class, with Sophomoric
wisdom, decided that the drama was too difficult for
their unaided intellects, and agreed, as a body, to obtain
translations, - by which piece of mutual transgression
the weak in will or conscience might have the moral
support of their fellows. David, who, from his residence in Boston, was constantly made an agent for the
class, was appointed commissioner to procure the copies
during the next vacation.  The only translation he
could find was one included in a complete translation
of Sophocles, published in Bohn's " Classical Library."
It seemed foolish to buy the whole book for the sake
of forty odd pages; and after some embarrassment it
occurred to him to get the " Electra " printed by itself.
He had a reckless disregard of common sense in business affairs, and the unlucky measure resulted in obtaining a quantity of unbound " Electras," which cost
more than if he had bought the entire volumes. The
class had a good-natured laugh at him for his simnplicity, but relieved his mind by paying the bill.
Meaawhile his room was full of the translations, lying
about everywhere for any who chose to call and obtain
their copies.  Nearly every one used the help; and
it was considered wholly justifiable, first because the
Greek was so hard, and then because where all went
astray, the responsibility was equally distributed; but
not once did David ever glance at the English " Electra"; he labored through the unadulterated Greek
alone.
He began this year to read outside of the college




54             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
studies, with no very clear notion of what he wanted,
following the suggestion of the time; but even then
there was indication of a preference for a class of reading which afterward engaged his attention, - the suggestive writings of essayists, like John Foster, which
treat of morals in the broader relations, and yet give a
practical turn to the results reached.  There was a
catholicity about David's mind which, so early as this,
imade him best pleased with truth when presented in its
sphericity, while he was so practical in his application
of truth that he wished the sphere, in conclusion, to
become a wedge. There is plenty of time in the idle
hours of Sophomore year for reading, and many students become diverted by it from study, persuading
themselves that one may fairly choose between discursive reading and close study, getting about equal advantage from either. Sophomore wisdom fails frequently
when tested on this point.  David's diversion from
study by reading was very slight; he kept at his books
as much as seemed necessary; the by-hours he preferred to spend on excursions, and in dabbling in Natural
History. There was, besides, the traditional initiation
of Freshmen in the trials of college-life; but where this
was neither illegal nor mean, there was little to recomnmend it to any one's notice, so that he kept clear of
such folly. Back and forth between Williamstown and
Boston, he kept up outwardly an uneventful life, unless
there be excepted the long excursions which he planned
so profusely whenever summer approached, and some one
of which he carried out each vacation,- taking long
pedestrian tours through New England, or, with his father, ever desirous of anticipating his pleasures, travelling into Canada. He was restless with schemes, going




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             55
just as far as the tether of circumstances would allow,
and taking the keenest delight in the fulfilment of his
plans.
When he returned to college, at the beginning of his
third or Junior year, he found a necessity for most resolute exertion. The classics were dropped out of the
course of study after a portion of Demosthenes and of
Tacitus had been read; the prominent study of the
year was Physics and higher Mathematics, together
with an increased amount of composition work. His
youth and unmethodical habits of mind made all this
hard for him; besides, the Junior dignity is rather
ashamed of the flippancy and laziness of Sophomore
year; so that he entered with resolution and industry
upon his tasks. He never achieved any honor in the
performance, but he had the greater gain in a more
capable mind and readier pen. Surely and rapidly, by
vigorous application to work, he was adding to his mental
stature. A certain extreme confidence in other men's
opinions gave way to more careful judgment and selfreliance. He stood higher, took in a wider reach in all
his observations, and moved unresistingly forward in
his proposed career.
As his mind became more analytical, he understood
himself better, and could detect the true character of
his unhealthy moods. The corrective measures which
formerly he had instinctively adopted, were now employed at the suggestion also of his thought. The morbidness clung to him, since by his injudicious, ignorant
yielding it had become a habit, only to be worn away
by constant attrition with his will, and by the severe
letting alone which he learned to practise. The beginning of this unhealthy state of mind has been indicated;




56             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
the disease was at its height during this year, and the
following extracts from two letters, written in immediate
succession, give pretty fully the form which his selftorture assumed. A frankness is used which we should
call unmerciful to himself, were it not in part one of the
very symptoms of the disease, that it hides itself for
a time only to pour its horrors more fully into the most
sympathetic ear; some momentary relief is thus gained,
but such a confidence, by its outward expression of
vague experience, rarely fails to give body and long
life to the diseased fancy. I have hesitated whether it
be right to disclose such a revelation of himself, but the
mastery which he obtained over this strong evil cannot
adequately be indicated unless the strength of the evil
be first shown. The extracts show the workings of his
mind better than any mere description of mine could.
WILLIAMS COLLEGE, May, 1854.
Different circumstances conspire to render
me perfectly miserable; a very agreeable condition, I
assure you. I don't know as you are aware of it, but
I am very often subject to fits of the indigoes, as some
would term them. At all events, whatever may be the
causes, I am altogether in despair at such times.
For the last three years nearly, I have seldom been happy for any length of time, - all last vacation I was
wretched; to-day I have almost wished to die. My
prayers seem like mockeries, heartless, cold, and ineffectual. I can and usually do appear lighthearted, but
within a continual fire is burning. I see what I ought
to be as a Christian, but not having motives to exertion
sufficiently heavenly, I make but little true progress..... I have harbored these feelings for so long that




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             57
they have become a kind of monomania, which I love to
gloat over, and thus they continually react upon me. Instead of building castles in the air, I dig dungeons in the
earth. I continually think of myself as of no ability,
having no decision of character, no originality, no judgment, no perseverance, no taste in regard to any matter,
no conversational powers, no power in writing, no agreeable companionship, and, in fine, no anything which I
ought to have. I seem to have lost all true self-esteem;
and to crown all, and that which causes me most to
despair, is my want of patience in well-doing, my having
a name to live when I am dead.
As regards my religious feelings, if I wanted
to be better I could, but there is a kind of dogged,
sullen determination to continue as I am, moping and
fretting; and the only cure is to let myself alone until
I see what a fool I am. You seem to think that I have
deep sorrow for sin. I differ from you. I don't know
what true, sincere, heartfelt sorrow is - no godly sorrow, for godly sorrow worketh repentance unto salvation, not to be repented of. My sorrow produces no
such results. Vanity of the lowest stamp here comes
in, and I delight in feeling miserable, and would rejoice
if others knew it and would pity me. I know perfectly
well that I ought to forget myself and look to Christ,
but I don't want to, for that would be depriving my
mind of one source of its delight, morbid self-contemplation.... The least sign in any particular that I
am low in piety is magnified and construed into a sort
of invincible sin. For instance, when prayer is offered,
no matter where, I cannot follow, but instinctively my
mind goes hop, skip, jump. I have tried a little to
overcome this propensity, but in vain. I think I see




58             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
pretty clearly what a Christian character is, and if I
am to be a missionary, I must be a holier man.
Here is another source of discouragement, -
I cannot write decently. Behind all lies the cause,
entering college too early. I did not know what. I was
to study for, and failing once, I have been gradually
falling backward, and am now a meagre student.  This
fact is impressed upon me every day. I went on to
Greylock Monday: coming down, the conversation
turned on saw-mills, thence to water principles, which
we have studied, and with which we should be acquainted, but I could only be silent from ignorance, and
so on; when anything was talked about I had to re-;main mum. I kept busily punning until I became disgusted with myself; and so it is at any little meeting
of students, — I cannot engage in general conversation.
In my reading I am very superficial, - remember nothing scarcely of importance, and the quicker through,
the better. I am exceedingly barren on common topics
and general information, so that I am very seldom of
use to anybody. I am conscious that I am boring you,
and doing myself harm, perhaps, but I am through in
this letter.
It must be observed that though he was so open in
this letter, his ordinary comrades saw little evidence of
his morbidness; he wore an outward cheeriness even
when depressed at heart, for he revolted from that form
of self-tormenting indulgence which leads one to seek
compassion by the exhibition of a doleful face in public. How he dealt with the evil may be seen from a
few words addressed to one who disclosed very much
the same experience to him a year afterward. " You




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.              59
seem to think," he writes, " that I should be able to
offer some remedy for' blues,' as I have been so subject
to them.... One thing I know, that if a person
gives himself wholly to the work of good, if one employs all the energies of bQdy and mind, whether the
result of one talent or of ten, if, forgetting self as
much as possible, we labor for our Saviour, we shall
lack no good thing. I believe that the secret lies in
dethroning self entirely, and living altogether in accordance with the great law  of benefaction.  That
must be it."
It was work and a spirit of beneficence which brought
for him a deliverance, in large measure, from unhappy
moods; as these were closely connected with his religious convictions, so it was Christian activity that supplied the regulative power.  Constantly, spite of failure, pressing toward a higher tone of life, the ultimate
motive with him was loyalty to the Saviour. This was
no occasional, fitful incentive to a better life, a more
energetic service; it was deep in his being, occupying
the very heart, and issuing forth through all the channels of his nature. The hearty affection which held
him so firmly to friends was rendered more catholic by
his love for the Saviour of men. In this spirit, and not
under the thraldom of an unloved conscience, though
duty ever stood ready to press its claims, he tried to
bring others into the kingdom  of God.  There was
such a transparency about his motives, such a winning
power in his artlessness, that he was able to reach some
who would have repelled religion coming in the unlovely guise which it not unfrequently wears in college.
Whilst he was bewailing, and honestly, his. own slackness and timidity, the record of his brief note-book




60             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
shows him going to one and another, for what purpose
one may easily see who knew their characters. Nor
did he do this with incautious zeal, but rather with
earnest prayer, and with judgment correct, because
instinctive.  These men loved David. They saw in
him not only a good fellow, but one who was staunch
in his loyalty to his Lord, struggling after purity; they
were sure he worshipped at the cross. Thus writes
one of his classmates: -" He did not shut himself
away from men's hearts because they believed as he did
not, or because they had not yet proven themselves
worthy and Christian.  He was not afraid of being
soiled by publicans and sinners; he could sit at meat
with them. He did not pour on the ground the humanities in him, when he resolved to serve the Lord Jesus
as a missionary in India...... Men were not repelled
from him by any conventional manners, nor any assumed frigidity.  He put constraint on no company
when he entered it, nor did he leave his principles at
home, either, for any fear. He was willing to show what
he was, a friend of Jesus, and he was not willing to
seem what he was not."
The missionary purpose, which had its birth simultaneously with his Christian life, remained unshaken,
and in the last two years of his college course was set
in constant motion.  There existed at Williams, then
as now, the Mills Theological Society, - an association
of such students as designed entering the ministry. It
was chiefly a literary society, holding its meetings on
Sunday evening, one week giving the time to theological discussion and essays, the next to missionary intelligence and essays upon kindred topics. It held its own
better, and was subject to less fluctuation of interest in




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.              61
those days than any other of the societies; there was
little of that hustling for places of honor which worked
evil in the secular societies; a well-defined purpose
regulated the conduct of the meetings, and some of the
worthiest efforts in college were made in the Mills.
David joined the society early, but it was not till his
class had come forward into Junior vear that he took
any active part; then and thereafter he was a leading
member. As a debater and essayist, lie made little
show; but as far as spirited interest and unwearied labor
were concerned, he was extremely efficient. He was
not content with performing his allotted duties, but engaged in new enterprises in behalf of the society, and
was continually plotting how he should advance its interest. He entered into correspondence with individual
missionaries all over the world, especially those who
were graduates of the college, enlisting their sympathy,
obtaining fresh intelligence, and what was better, connecting the idea of missions in the minds of the members with personal associations.  He sought out Christians in the lower classes, bringing them into the meetings, and by his ardor generally giving a warmer tone
to the proceedings of the society.
"I shall never forget," writes one of a lower class,
"the first time I saw David.  It was one Sabbath
afternoon shortly after I entered college. He came to
my room in New Street, to find out whether my chum
and I were Christians.  H. had filled the room with
tobacco-smoke, and we were reading.  David, I fear,
thought it rather a murky atmosphere for very vigorous
piety, though he said nothing of the kind. But his
earnest, enthusiastic tone when he spoke of the Mills
Society, (of whose existence I was then for the first




62             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
time informed, and which I joined at his invitation,)
and his entire manner, was a severe rebuke to my lifeless piety. I felt, when he left, that I had met with a
living Christian, and this, I think, was the impression
he always made.  There was no ostentation, no thrusting the fact upon you; but his spiritual life seemed as
natural as the fragrance of a rose, or the activity of a
healthy, animal life."
The library of the society had been growing by slow
accretions for several years, but had received no careful attention until he busied himself about it. He laid
aside his constitutional shyness, and addressed himself
to all manner of people who were likely to be of any
service; in vacation he was constantly on the hunt for
books and money, and showed such unfeigned pleasure
when he got what he wanted, that his possessions increased rapidly. In this way he secured several hundred volumes of worth, and when during Senior year
lihe occupied the room of the society containing its
library, he had the most fond affection for the cases
of books which had so increased under his administration. The whole library, indeed, he inspected carefully,
rearranged, and catalogued.
The society took its name from Samuel J. Mills,
whose place in the history of American missions is so
notable, and whose memory is one of the sacred traditions which those of like mind at Williams love to
preserve.  David, always ready to be impressed by
Christian heroism, felt a personal enthusiasm for the
man and all relating to him, as a labor of love applying himself to the recovery of what stray, unrecorded
facts there might be about him, which he afterward
wove into an address before the society. He was par



DAVID COIT SCUDDER.               63
ticularly anxious to get some likeness of Mills, with the
intention, I think, of securing a satisfactory painting for
the society.  His search was unsuccessful, but it deserved success. He wrote letters and took long journeys
on foot, visiting the places where Mills had lived, hunted
for his relations and friends, and did not give over till
he had tried all possible measures. In all of these labors
lie seemed wholly absorbed in the immediate ends proposed, singularly forgetful either of good or of honor
for himself. He was surprised when elected president
of the society, pleased chiefly because of the appreciation manifest in the election, and anxious lest the feelings of others should be hurt by his promotion. Indeed,
it was the same in all the societies which he served in
college; he never seemed to seek office or personal
distinction. His labors had no concealed end in his
own glory.
Nor was his zeal for missions confined to the Mills
Society. He recognized then, as more fully afterward,
the value of personal influence in these matters. He
did not leave the truth to find its way to the hearts of
men; he carried it himself and presented it to them.
His own plans were so definitely formed, his conviction
of duty so firm, that he was somewhat impatient of
the slower decisions of others. It was so plain to himhe would make it plain to them. Although several of
his class and associates afterward became foreign missionaries, yet he was the only one I am told, of those
who then expressed an intention to engage in this occupation, who ever entered a foreign field.  He was
toasted at the farewell class-supper as the missionary to
India: that was his distinction. Indeed, it was impos



64             LIFE AND LETTER S OF
sible for him to conceal a purpose so mastering; any
one who liked could see how much he meant.
With all this active zeal for the missionary cause,
there was kept up a careful preparation of himself for
the work which he had undertaken. Aside from his
regular studies, the pursuit of which received also an
impulse from a consideration of their bearing upon his
profession, his elective study and reading looked in this
direction; yet, from the outset, his catholicity of nature
led him to take a wide and profound view of what constituted intellectual preparation for his work. Htis desire
for a positive object had led him to choose not merely
serving Christ, but serving him as a missionary; not as
a missionary merely, but as a missionary in India; nor
even there did lie pause, but he chose the very district
of India in which he should establish himself; thus
only could he satisfy his nature. So also in study, his
guiding thought was not for improvement of his mind as
a disciple of Christ, but running through general purposes, he came quickly to the special purpose of becoming acquainted with India, and minutely of that section
which was to be his home. But as his instinct for
special ends in life did not belittle his more comprehensive purpose of serving the Lord with body, mind,
and soul, so neither did his demand for special preparation induce a narrow estimate of what constituted that
preparation. He believed in the largest culture as essential to the most effective minute labor of the missionary. His tastes and interests were of so wide a range,
that he could not become narrow-minded so long as he
permitted them to indicate the direction of his studies.
He governed the extent rather than the kind of his pur



DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             65
suits, displaying good judgment in knowing where to
stop. He never forgot his purpose, but he did not force
all studies and plans to do the bidding of that ruling
purpose; rather that purpose was so much his entire
life, and he was so hearty and natural, that all effort was
inspired by his Christian and missionary zeal.
The Rev. H. R. Hoisington, formerly at the head
of the Batticotta School in Ceylon, was at this time
occupying the pulpit at Williamnstown, having been
compelled to return to this country on account of ill
health. It was a most fortunate thing for David that,
at the beginning of his missionary studies, he should
have had the advice and assistance of one so calculated
every way to assist him. Mr. Hoisington was an admirable Tamil scholar, and, at his suggestion, David commenced the study of the language as by-work, at first
only familiarizing himself with the vocables, and then
going further and further, with an untiring zeal which
seemed in no way to be weakened by the unavoidable
breaks in the course of study. I do not think that
the difficulty of the language ever seriously disconcerted
him. He took it as a matter of course that he would
have to master it; he must learn Tamil at some time,
it were better if he could know something of it before
going to India; and here was the opportunity. After
he had begun upon it, there was no thought of relinquishing it; he was not in the habit of torturing himself with the objections which one may so easily call
up, after he has made a decision. His ease in acquiring
language and his humor for airing strange words gave
some zest to the pursuit.
" While it certainly was amusing," writes a classmate,
"to see his enthusiasm, and the facility with which his
5




66             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
rapid tongue adapted itself to the speech, it was also
more than amusing: it showed how cordially he had
taken in hand the business of his life, and how practical
were all his conceptions of it. I don't believe he really
found any sympathy among his companions with what
he was doing. I surely never stopped to consider much
what he was at - why he cared to bother with a Tamil
lesson two or three times a week, and what relation it
had to the great interests of man. Probably most of
us laughed at him, - thought it was one of his queer
freaks, an easy way of letting off some of his superfluous energy, - would have been wholly incredulous if
any had told us that this was the thing that lay nearest
his heart, and that was really proving him a hero. As he
jabbered to us the final syllables he learned,- a thing
he often loved to do, — we did not see at all how directly the whole force of his being was pressing toward
the one desire of his life."
India was always near to him, never far off. This
was the secret of the ease with which his mind adapted
itself to apparently remote enterprises.  To a mind
seeking near objects upon which to exert itself, it is not
-so much distance in time or space, which constitutes
remoteness, as abstraction from the realms of practical
effort; thus metaphysics David could not bring within
the range of his vision, yet there were some minds in
his class to whom the " oversoul " was far nearer than
the profession which they may have anticipated entering
a few years hence. A year before he graduated, David
wrote: — " Father! you can have no idea how much I
think of India. It is almost my first thought in the
morning, and is present during the day. You talk
about my studying two years before entering the semi



DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             67
nary.  Impossible! I should pine for'India's coral
strands.' India! is my watchword. I know the Tamil
alphabet, two hundred and twenty-eight letters.  It is
quite simple, but such words! whew! enough to take
the breath out of your body before you finish. For
instance, iiyirmeyyerluttu, one word, which is much
harder to pronounce than it looks to be on paper. The
letters of that word are these in Tamil. (Here follow
a dozen of the Tamil characters, which were freely
sprinkled in his letters.) Before long I shall read, and
before long preach the everlasting Gospel."
I have been forced, in illustrating the growth of his
mind, to anticipate any account of the closing year of
his college course. Little remains to be said, since this
year did not differ materially, in its outward character,
from the preceding. More leisure, indeed, is allowed,
as the student becomes able to be trusted with it, and
this is turned to the advantage of reading, especially on
subjects collateral to the investigations in philosophy
which form the basis of Senior studies. This year at
Williams enjoys some reputation from the tuition given
by Dr. Mark Hopkins, the President of the college:
many fancy that the advantage, apart from his personal
power, lies in a more philosophical arrangement of the
subjects discussed; but they seize upon only one part
of a system which unifies the entire course of education in the college, a system under which the student
works, unawares, but which, at the beginning of the
last year, is explained to him. This system has for its
informing idea the doctrine, that the student is to work
out his own education and is not to be overlaid by
any merely applied knowledge. I do not hesitate to
say that the one value which attaches preeminently




68             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
to Williams, spite of the many weaknesses in the college appointments, is the power which belongs to it of
inducing independent, vigorous thought.  Culture, in
its ordinary sense, there is none; men leave the college
frequently with as little grace as they entered; of acquaintance with general literature there is scarcely
anything; the libraries are scantily supplied; thorough
scholarship in the classics is quite unknown, (I speak of
the days when my brothers and I were there,) but after
all there remains a substantial success, of which the
college may justly be proud, in the ability which has
been given to the graduates to use themselves.
The same immaturity which previously had prevented
David fiom getting the full value of the college curriculum existed still to much greater disadvantage, yet
he grew rapidly, although far from comprehending the
studies in which he was engaged.  His previous vague
and uncertain intellections were fast giving way to more
careful and definite reasoninlgs. In his reading he grew
more methodical and judicious.  He enjoyed most
heartily the life he led. He could feel the satisfaction
of being employed upon studies most valuable to him,
which were daily setting in order his willing mind;
the abundant leisure was grateful, as it affbrded such
opportunity for carrying out his prolific schemes. His
friends were fast, and two brothers, in different classes,
gave him companionship beside. My first year at college was David's last, and I cannot forget the manner
of his life so full to overflowing: his days flying by
under the pressure of occupation, and even his nights
contributing to his draught of life; for there was a
passage from his room in the upper story of East College to the flat roof of the building; there on starlight




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             69
nights he would carry up his blankets, and rolling himself up in them, fall asleep with thoughts of India, and
of the more distant land unseen by mortal eyes. Such
nights had their surprises too, when his dreams would
become grotesque, and his waking consciousness would
be puzzled at the quick drops of rain which at last
drove him headlong  through the trap-door, dragging
his blankets after him.
In August, 1855, when lacking a few months of
completing his twentieth year, he graduated with his
class, taking a creditable position, and carrying away
at any rate the entire respect of officers and students;
more, bearing with.him the personal affection of many,
and the genial remembrances of all who had been associated with him. Surely he had no enemy, notwithstanding his strong prejudices and the difficulty he
found in concealing his opinion of whatever was mean
and dishonorable. With great charity for the weak
and ignorant, always glad if he could favorably interpret ambiguous incidents or characteristics, he could
not bear what was mean, or indeed what was unnatural. It was anmusing to see the vehemence with which
he would express his disgust at the ridiculous affectation
of a child that crossed his path very often, as if his
whole nature revolted at such a twist of childhood.
In his class there was one for whom he had an almost
ungovernable distaste, on account of a silly arrogance,
poorly borne out by the person's position and attainments. But when Commencement Day came, he did
not like to part with any of his class except on the
kindest terms; he was aware that he had failed to
conceal his contempt for this person, so, swallowing the
disagreeable sensations that arose, he sought him out,




70            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
and said in his cheerful, hearty way, "Come,,
we must part friends," and held out the hand of reconciliation. All that he got in return, he told me with
amusement, was two fingers, by which he was to cling
to this man's good-will.
It was with unfeigned reluctance that he left his four
years' home. His last letter fromn Williamstown, written when the bustle of Commencement was over, ends
thus: — " All over, David C. Scudder, A. B.! Oh,
how I shall long to come back here again. C. M. has
just come to bid me good-bye, and soon the last goodbye will be said, and I shall be left to myself, lonesome
enough. I did and do love my classmates, and these
noble old hills, and college-life. But I've got to be a
man like all the rest."  The mountains to which he
bade good-bye with sorrowful feeling, giving them each
a personal farewell, had witnessed a great change from
the headlong, unthinking boy, who scoured them with
all the eagerness of a wild nature. They had seen his
awaking to thought, his hard struggle with an unruly
spirit, his gropings after clearer light and more peaceful
air; they had been his friends when, to his mind, all
others seemed in vain, and he had fled to them, wearied
with labor. His ardent purposes and strong resolves
had gained in firmness as he climbed the rugged hills,
and his eye, looking off from the heights of Greylock,
had been outrun by his vision of more distant lands
which he longed to reach. He associated with them
his inner life, and they were almost a part of himself.
Once, at midnight, at the beginning of a new year, he
entered the town in company with a brother, who was
making his first visit. The moon was shining, giving
a wonderful character to the silent hills. To any one




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.                71
it was a scene of bewitching beauty, but for David it
was illumined by
"The light that never was, on sea or land,
The consecration."
"This," said he, turning to his brother, " this is my
home. Here I was born." So did he ever regard the
place; and if the mountains had known him as he knew
them, they would have seen him leaving this spiritual
home, not soiled by college associations, but ennobled,
and rising to the estate of manhood; all that was generous and right in his character confirmed, and a power
obtained over evil which gained in strength at each
conflict.




72             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
CHAPTER IV.
A YEAR IN THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY AT ANDOVER.
[1855-1856.]
IT is the wont of many American collegians to intermit systematic study for a year or more after graduation,
occupying themselves with teaching or travel, before
beginning the special study which prepares for professional life. David had expected to observe such an
intermission, from a consciousness of immaturity, although his eagerness to conquer time, as well as other
obstacles, made him impatient of delay.  He finally
decided to pass directly from college to the Theological
Seminary, and take the first year of the course before
interrupting regular study. In September, 1855, he
entered the seminary at Andover, Massachusetts, with
an older brother who had graduated from college a
year previous; others whom he knew had been in the
seminary a year or more; some of his own college class
entered with him, and while pursuing the course, he
welcomed friends from classes succeeding his. In fact,
when transplanted to Andover, he carried with him a
good deal of the Williams soil; it never was easy for
him to detach himself from friendly associations, and he
retained the liveliest interest in all the concerns of his
Alma Mater.  But he was quite differently situated
now. Instead of being in the seclusion of Williamstown, a day's journey from home, he was but an hour's
ride by rail from Boston, living in a town which, from




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.              73
its nearness to the city, has caught enough of city civilization to have rubbed off something of its rusticity,
and yet is surrounded by a pleasing country, tenanted
by country folk. The land about Andover is varied,
affording delightful walks and rides, without requiring
the severe toil which frequently is necessary in Williamstown; within a circuit of five miles, one may find
the most diversified scenery; the roads branch off in
every direction, and one following them indifferently
will be led to woods and ponds, and round, bald hills.
One may trace the windings of the Shawshin, walk
along Indian Ridge, lie on the gentle slope which overlooks Pomp's Pond, with its setting of forest-trees, so
many-hued in autumn days; while Sunset Rock, on
the edge of a tangled wood-lot, above a valley, gives a
noble view of the western sky.
Hither upon pleasant evenings straggle small parties
and solitaries, bound like sun-worshippers to their evening devotions. The transient population of the.town is
so large that there always are some to try the pleasant
walks, or make excursions for so unworldly an object
as to see the sun set. In ordinary country villages of
New England, it is only the children or occasional visitors that take a walk for the pleasure of it; the busy
villagers, when they find leisure, seek their entertainment in some other form. Andover is an exceptional
town; a pretty large share of its population is of those
who come to be taught and those who come to teach,
while the regular inhabitants find a good deal to do in
providing for the wants of the shifting school-class.
The Theological Seminary, Phillips Academy, enjoying
some celebrity under Dr. S. H. Taylor's charge, as a
school preparatory for college, a large girls' school,




74            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
called a Female Seminary, smaller boarding-schools for
girls, and Punchard Free School for the towns-people,
serve to give an educational character to the town,
while the constant introduction of new classes of students, and the large supply of young people, keep the
face of society changeable.
At Williamstown David had seen nothing of society
except that of collegians, which was not likely to teach
manners, whatever else it might teach; at home, he had
been impatient of the restraint imposed upon him by
society; it made him fidgety, and he used to escape
formal company when he could. Much of this was
owing to a half-tamed boyishness and a natural diffidence, so that when he went to Andover, he seemed to
regard his aversion from society as a serious matter.
Accordingly, he began faithfully to attend the regular
social gatherings, held at the professors' houses, where
he did his best to enjoy himself, with tolerable success;
only tolerable, however, for he often rebelled. He was
so unconventional that he was restless amongst conventional people, and felt the light restraints of formal etiquette as if they were fetters. Sometimes, when our
own house was the scene of his misery, he would steal
out into the back-yard for a whiff of freedom, and
come back meekly to his bondage.  It made him
wretched to go into a room full of people, to smile and
smile for an hour or two, talking in driblets with various acquaintances, and, in fine, conducting himself with
propriety. HI-e rebelled against propriety; it was hot
within him to do something startling, and then his feeling of being de trop made him out of humor with himself. It seemed to him that he could give nothing to
society; he thought much worse of himself in this




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             75
respect than did others, who found him a fresh talker,
with so much whimsicality about him, that, on the shortest acquaintance, he was likely to say or do something
extremely original and mirth-provoking. In less formal
society, and among friends, he talked well, though at
first with a somewhat limited vocabulary.  His own
purposes and topics kindred he did not push forward,
but was ready to kindle on the theme when encouraged.
He did not seek a great deal of society; he was quite
content with the stated seminary levees and occasional
parties, and with calling upon the members of his Sunday-school class; having done his duty, he dismissed
the matter for more congenial pursuits.
A new place and a new set of friends seemed to
bring out afresh his boyishness. He was rather more
unique when contrasted with students in Theology
than when among collegians. The prevailing sobriety
made him more intemperate; he would come out of
his room at the close of study-hours, and the first taste
of fresh air would send him frolicking among his staid
fellows, till they could not resist the contagion. His
fondness for startling people was as strong as ever, but
if he found his motives misconstrued he was ready
at once to explain himself, for he could not bear that
any one should suffer through his escapades. The students looked on with amusement; they could not help
making friends with him at once.  One of those, who
was afterward an intimate acquaintance, Rev. Charles
Newman, thus gives his impressions of David at this
time: -
"My first acquaintance with your brother was in
the fall of 1855. On my return to Andover, I found
him at my boarding-place. I was favorably impressed




76             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
by his evident activity of mind. He seemed always
on the alert, never sitting down in reverie or abstraction. It was his habit, when waiting for meals, to seat
himself upon a stool, or perhaps the floor, attract at
once the interest of the children, and engage them in
some conversation or play; or he would take a book,
or something else into his hand - his manner expressing
an incessant activity. One evening, as I was walking somewhat in advance of the others, he came up
with me on the other side of the walk, and by most
irresistible grimaces drew my attention; in such a
strange way as this was formed an acquaintance which
became very intimate.  He was full of frolics and
gambols, continually surprising one by some outburst
of his excessive vitality and glee.  I walked much,
and lie offered himself as my companion; through the
winter and summer it became a regular thing, until
every object on the route became familiar. He would
address apostrophes now to a dog, now to a peacock,
and now to a wood-chopper, whom we passed on our
way; he would climb a bank, and with wild, extravagant gesticulation recite some passage of poetry.  I
never saw in any one else that combination of exuberant, gleeful, animal spirits, and such single-eyed devotion and earnestness."
His old habits evidently had not deserted him; even
the rabbit-traps were set when the winter came, and
the old story was repeated, of something getting in and
something gnawing out. He wanted the same out-ofdoor life to carry off his exuberance, and besides, if
the truth must be told, his dyspepsia. His college diet
was bearing its fruit, and for the first time in his life
he began to suffer from physical weakness and disor



DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             77
derly system. Other ailments appeared, and it was
interesting to see the decision with which he set about
recovering robustness; he held himself strictly accountable for any failure of his body to do the bidding of his
mind.  The friend just quoted adds that he wore no
great-coat this winter, for which he gave the whimsical
reason, that he was fitting himself to go as missionary to
Greenland, if it should be thought advisable. Really,
he wanted to force his system into obedience, and took
this for one means.
The routine of seminary life is somewhat similar to
that of college.  Recitations and lectures succeed each
other at regular intervals, and the methodical bell tells
off the hours with precision. The student, however,
is allowed larger liberty, compulsory exercises are fewer,
though a pretty careful watch is kept that no erratic
student shall have his own way too much. The character of the studies and the object of the student give
a religious tone to the exercises, and produce, indeed,
an atmosphere somewhat different from that of college. The tendency frequently is to harden the religious life, to exalt the intellectual above the spiritual,
to create a too curious and irreverent attitude toward
the divine mysteries. This is the direction in which
human weakness thus placed is liable to err, but the
inhering advantages of the system are no doubt superior. At first, the change from reckless college associations to the quiet, serious way in which seminary
exercises are conducted, touches the heart of a Christian, till he thinks nothing could be more favorable to
religious growth.
So it seemed to David, when he began his course
there. He liked the custom of opening the recitations




78             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
and lectures with prayer; it seemed to sanctify mental
labor, to keep alive the remembrance of a consecration
of all powers to holy service. He liked the social prayermeeting, where a freedom of expression, a fulness of
sympathy prevailed; he enjoyed study which brought
him so close to the divine wisdom; the cast of his mind
was reverential, and I do not think that he fell much
into the intellectual snare set for young theologians.
The chief delight, however, which he found, was in an
association with those in the seminary who were expecting to become foreign missionaries.  To such he
needed no other commendation; they were his brethren, and he gave them  unstintingly of his generous
affection. If there were any amongst them with whom,
otherwise, he might have little in common, yet, for the
sake of the Cause, he loved them heartily, while he
gave his warmest affection to such as were after his own
heart.
A week or two after his entrance of the seminary,
he was asked to join a society of " Christian Brethren,"
which was composed exclusively of those who had devoted themselves to the foreign missionary work, and
whose object was mutual encouragement and the promotion of a missionary spirit in the seminary.  The
society had been founded by Mills, in Williamstown,
had been removed to Andover, and maintained ever
since, not obtruding itself upon notice, and, indeed, so
private in nature, as to be unknown in name or existence to most of the students. Each week, on Tuesday
evening, the little band met, and in the most informal
manner carried on their meetings, chatting over personal matters, while beneath the surface flowed the
deep current of an earnest purpose which needed no




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             79
conventional propriety to make it known. Here they
prayed with one another, conferred as to the best manner of awaking an interest in missions, and when one
of their number sailed, he was bidden Godspeed, by
that circle of young men, with deeper earnestness than
by the church at large. To this gathering did David
go weekly, for there he could give out the ardor of his
purpose without fear of its falling upon listless or sceptical ears. The personal companionship of the individual members was much to him, but I feel sure that he
looked to the Brethren for the largest measure of inspiration. The purpose which had been growing in his
soul had been, in large part, nurtured in solitude; none
of his college friends, dear as they were, could give
him that perfect sympathy which he craved; the encouragement from his own family and from Christian
friends was sincere, but it was far off. Doubtless, he
had been made more self-reliant by such a discipline,
but what he now needed was intercourse with kindred
minds, who had common purpose and interests with him.
This was granted him. In the Brethren he had those
who meant what he did, and to whom he could freely
declare himself. They were brothers, and he gave them
a brother's affection.
The effect upon him was most generous; there was
a roundness to his life never before seen; delicately sensitive to outward influences, though often he seemed
roughly to overbear them, the warm atmosphere about
him was favorable to his growth. The enthusiasm with
which hitherto he had pursued his studies had been
subject to fluctuations, now it was more steady, more
full of hopeful power. He started afresh in work. India seemed nearer than ever, there were fewer years to




80             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
look across, and having about him those who were
bound on the same errand, a briskness was imparted to
his energies, an unhasting diligence. The regular studies of the course he took hold of energetically. With
characteristic interest he seized upon Hebrew and
twisted the forms round his flexile tongue, adding new
words to his patois of languages.  More noticeable,
however, is the industry which he showed in private
reading.  There is a long list of books read by him
during this year, in which, among numerous works in
general literature, one can trace the beginning of a tolerably close investigation of his favorite subject, which
hardly has a distinct name, unless it be the Natural
History of Man. The unity and diversity of races,
types of mankind, the philological interpretation of
history received his attention, and a foundation was
laid for more careful researches, as we shall see hereafter. In the ardor of a young philosopher, he began
to write his views upon these subjects, and discoursed
upon " Language," and " one Primeval Language," in
the "Williams Quarterly," the magazine of his college.
These essays are written with care, though by a pen
not yet very facile; he follows his authorities, but with
open eyes, and attempts some little theorizing himself.
The papers are nothing in themselves, but how wide an
interval there is, in intellectual culture, between them
and his maiden compositions,-" Ambition," and " Independence must have limits;" navy, between them and
recent efforts of Senior year at college there is a wide
difference, indicating the impetus that has been given
to his mind, and showing promise of a full and rapid
growth.
The long term in Andover is a very long one, lasting




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             81
fiom the middle of September to the middle of March,
when a vacation of six weeks follows. David had enjoyed this stretch of study, and had worked with hearty
interest, keeping his heart warm by intercourse with
zealous men, and interesting himself with a class in the
Sunday-school.  It was a quiet winter, unbroken by
any more exciting events than two or three holidays
spent at home, infrequent visits from some of the family, and the social gatherings in Andover, to be taken
once in a month, with as few grimaces as possible.
He remembered his college in those days.  Two
brothers were still there, and he insisted upon knowing
all the gossip, and above all kept in mind the spiritual
welfare of his Alma Mater. He begged for news of
any increase of religious interest. "'You say nothing
about the state of religion," he writes; " now remember, never write a letter again without [speaking of it],
whether affairs are dark or bright. All here look for
news with deep interest." In concert with his fellows
from Williams at the seminary, he prayed earnestly
and affectionately for the college. Often did he press
upon his brothers' minds the warning that never again
would they find men so impressionable. " Boys," he
would write in his eager way, " I want to urge upon you
to bear constantly in mind that you never again will be
placed in such a favorable situation for affecting the
souls of your fellows. You will regret when you leave
college and look back upon the opportunities for doing
good lost, I tell you." When the spring vacation
came, he took a journey to Williamstown, going unannounced, as he always delighted to go, surprising his
brothers and friends by suddenly appearing at the'Logian meeting. He spent a fortnight there, for the6




82             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
sake of Mr. Hoisington's aid in his Tamil studies,
which he had kept up through the year, and enjoyed
exceedingly a return to his old haunts. Once more he
took his favorite walks, went into the college exercises,
and showed the attachment of a son to his old home.
He had for some time been considering the project of
spending a year or two years in teaching at the South,
and was rather perplexed, partly from the difficulty of
obtaining a desirable situation, partly from the strong
aversion which he felt from postponing too long his
departure for India. He visited New York after his
stay in Williamstown, but found little satisfaction, and
returned to Andover to reside for the short term, still
undecided in his plans.
The beauty of this gentle country captivated him,
and he was light-hearted as he studied by his open window, or sought for early flowers along Indian Ridge.
" Dingy, dark Myrtle Street!" he writes to his sister,
" what misery to be shut up there this charming day.
Andover is coming out in all its gayety and loveliness;
and our room —just as pleasant as it can be, looking
out on the old orthodox green, so very orthodox that
all the paths are at right angles, and no cuts across.
I could wish for no better days for study. The rigor
of winter not yet departed: just at that temperature
where a fire is not needed, and where heat is not felt.
I am in perfect trim for study. And I am happy -
God be blessed for happiness." His perplexity regarding the coming year kept him, however, unsettled, and
liable to returns of his old enemy, - morbidness, not
yet wholly overcome. The one strong desire in his
heart was to get to India; some of his friends in the
Senior class were making their preparations for depart



DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             83
ure, and every sound quickened his own desire. Often
in his brief diary of events and books read, he breaks
out — " Shall I ever be in India? Can it be? " and one
could not fail to see that this was the desire of his
heart, driving him willingly forward. Yet his judgment
assured him that the right course was to wait. Friends
wished him to intermit two years, but he would consent
only to leave the seminary for one. Whilst he was thus
hasting, as if he had intimation that his time was short,
one can easily imagine that different feelings prevailed
in the hearts of his home: they are best expressed by
the following passage from a letter of his father's: —
BOSTON, July 15, 1856.
MY DEAR SoN: — I do not wonder that you begin
to feel some solicitude, as to what disposition you should
make of yourself for the coming year, if you do not pursue your theological studies, for a state of uncertainty is
anything but pleasant.... I have thought a good
deal of late about you, particularly since I received
your letter which you sent to me just before you last
came down. I have prayed much for you, and feel
much for you, more than I have ever expressed. When
you made known to us your intention to become a missionary of the cross, and to devote yourself to your
Saviour in a foreign field, I felt that you had done so
from a conviction of duty, and from love to our dear
Redeemer, and I could not throw any obstacles in the
way, however painful the thought might be that after
a season we should be separated from you, perhaps for
this life: in respect to myself, it will only be for a short
time. I have almost arrived at the common age of
man, and if you remained in this country, I should be




84            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
quite as likely to be deprived of your society, as God
might have employment for you in some distant portion
of our own land; so that, on the whole, I could feel to
rejoice that God had inclined your heart to enter upon
the field of duty you have chosen. And now, my dear
son, if you are convinced that God in his providence
points out to you this way to glorify Him, let nothing
hinder you from prosecuting your design: do what you
can to qualify yourself for the work, but deliberately,
and with no undue haste. I do not want you to hasten
away before you are fully prepared: while this work
of preparation is going on, you will undoubtedly have
some trying seasons,- a sense of duty and inclination
may come into conflict, - you will have temptations,
but look away from yourself to Him who redeemed you
with His blood, and who will reward you for every act
of self-denial you may make for Him, by imparting to
you more of His grace, and giving you sweet peace, in
the consciousness that, though you leave father, mother,
brothers and sister, for His sake and the Gospel's, you
will receive a hundred-fold in this life, and in the world
to come life everlasting.....
Affectionately yours,
CHARLES SCUDDER.
At the close of the year, in August, 1856, lie went
to Williamstown again, to be present at a Mission Jubilee, held in connection with the College Commencement, to celebrate the fiftieth year since Mills and his
associates inaugurated the Mission movement beneath
a haystack, in Sloan's Meadows. The ground where
the haystack stood had been purchased for a Mission
Park of ten acres, by the friends of the college, and it




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             85
was intended to hold the jubilee there; it was even
proposed by the enthusiastic professor who was the
chief mover, to have a Bungalow on the grounds, for
the accommodation of the visitors. That, however, was
given up, and the day proving stormy, the exercises
were held in the church. Regular addresses were given,
a number of missionaries spoke, and David, who had
taken a lively interest in the affair, appeared with some
ancient letters of Mills, together with the original constitution, in cypher, of the society formed by him. In
a letter to a friend just sailing for India, he gives this
brief account of his share in the proceedings:" It rained all the time, - hence the haystack was
not resorted to, and we did not meet in the Bungalow
as was expected. But the church was comfortable, and
we enjoyed the occasion highly. It really passed off
finely. Professor Hopkins's was the main address, and
an able production. He brought in two of his hobbies,
which limped slightly, - a Mission Seminary in this
country, as preparatory for a foreign field, where languages could be taught by returned missionaries, and
lectures on the philosophy and character of different
countries be delivered. Also his colonization plan, of
sending out Christian farmers, mechanics, and so on, to
work religion into the pagans. In the Alumni meeting next morning, a resolution was passed that proper
measures be taken for the establishment of a Mission
School as soon as thought advisable. So that may
amount to something yet. In the midst of his speech,
lie said -' Let Mills speak for himself,' and sung out
at the top of his voice,' And we've a young brother
from Andover come up to help us!' Whereupon, with
stately step and solemn, I marched upon the stage and




86            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
delivered the constitution into the hands of the chairman. He handed it to Dr. Cox to decipher, when we
had quite an interesting colloquy. I then read a portion of the letters, and retired - a lion."
He visited New York again, when he found an opportunity to act as Bible colporteur in the neighborhood
of Orange, New Jersey, whither he went, after a short
visit home, in September, 1856.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             87
CHAPTER V.
A YEAR OF EXPERIMENT.
['1856-1857.]
THE Bible agency was only intended to occupy a
couple of months.  The advantage which he anticipated from it was an increased facility of converse with
the world, knowledge of men, and knowledge of himself. The life which he had led had brought him very
little into contact with persons holding religious views
different from his own, or with persons in a different
order of society; he had in fact seldom been thrown
among strangers. If he was to be an efficient missionary, it was essential that he should learn, by practical
experiment, how to deal with men; besides, the life
which a student leads has a tendency to withdraw him
from that sympathy with unintellectual people which
is a requisite of successful ministry; many a theological student, brought face to face with a sleepy parish,
has then to take his first lesson in the art of discovering men, -a lesson which ends usually in the equally
valuable discovery of his own strength and weakness.
David had a special disability for such work as he
undertook, in a shyness which made him retreat from
the presence of a stranger; in a sensitive dread of contact with rudeness; in a stubborn, and somewhat surly
moodiness, which, when on him, kept his mouth closed
as if it were locked and the key thrown away; in an




88             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
unready speech, moreover, which want of practice had
rendered still more broken and stammering. The work
of peddling Bibles, accompanied with religious teaching, was as uncongenial as it well could be; it was,
perhaps, the most violent method that he could have
adopted for breaking through the crust of reserve
which idiosyncrasies and student-life had formed over
his nature. The Bible Society had contemplated a canvass of the entire country, in order to offer the Bible to
every soul that could be reached; accordingly the separate districts were circumscribed.  David's embraced
Orange, New Jersey, and the villages lying near. How
he managed to get through with the task, for such it
ever was, will best be learned by the following chronicle, drawn up from his diary and letters of the time.
His diary, as before intimated, never was anything but
the briefest memorandum of daily doings, with occasional breaths of desire or regret; he had a repugnance
to formal statements of religious feeling in it, believing
that momentary sensations thus imprisoned were very
unnatural, and very untruthful indications of religious
progress. I have selected such entries in his diary,
and such passages from his letters, as show the general
course of his colportage: —
Sep. 11. I am to proceed to Orange, and commence
in the village on foot; when done with neighboring
houses, to go to another town, say Bloomfield, and so
on to several in the thickest parts; then take a horse
and wagon, and go through the different outskirts.
Here I am, and soon to be at work. I try to think as
little about it as possible till I commence. How my
arms will ache!




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             89
Sep. 13. Books came at nine o'clock. Worked two
hours in morning, but almost every one is supplied.
Sep. 15. A very pleasant day indeed. Had a long
talk with a shoemaker on English Catholicism.  He
quoted English history at a great. rate. Must learn to
present the gospel boldly. Be not ashamed of Christ
and his word. Another had never had a Bible, and
when I gave him one, let go his work and commenced reading just where he opened, and became so
absorbed that he noticed me no longer. Such men I
am to learn from.
Sep. 16. Talked a long time with a man who was a
general unbeliever: hope with a right spirit. A Catholic shut the door in my face. I wonder that Catholics
usually are so polite.
Sep. 17. Had a curious talk to-day with a man who
professed to doubt the genuineness of the Scriptures.
He paraded his learning at a great rate. Also talked
about a half an hour with a Catholic woman, comparing Bibles, King James and Douay.'T is of no use
whatever to combat their errors by argument, they are
so wedded to them. How can we reach them but by
long-continued, patient labor? Don't think I make a
very efficient colporteur.
Sep. 19. A week already spent in Orange at work,
and finished almost all of my work for first visit. Today have been in the worst hole of all, Reeves's Row:
quantities of Irish huddled together. But I found them
remarkably ready to receive Bibles, and I gave them
about fifteen.
Sep. 25. Spent the day in Bloomfield: finished.
What is the reason?  I was told that I should visit




90            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
about forty families in a day, but to-day I have seen
eighty: very little destitution.
Sep. 29. In Belleville. A man berated me soundly,
but I laughed at him, and soon made him laugh himself. He was in good humor when I left, - did n't
think I was a bigot, and hoped that some day I would
bring around Bibles for Bishop Bailey. I think it is
wrong for distributors to throw tracts into a house,
where they refuse to receive them; it only incenses
them.
Sep. 30. Last day of September. Good-bye. Next
month may I do some good. [He had an odd way,
throughout his diary, of bidding good-bye to each month
and year.]
Oct. 2. Have visited ninety-four families to-day in
upper Belleville. Left Orange at 7.30 A. M. Walked
to Bloomfield; took horse to Belleville, and worked
till 12.30; got dinner for horse and self at a small
farmer's; worked from 1.30 to 5.30 P. M., and ended
with losing my way, so that I did not quite finish Belleville. Rode to Bloomfield, and walked and ran back
to Orange.
Oct. 3. Worked in Belleville. Irish funeral made
some confusion.  One woman was " rather light in her
head, and I'd better not be bothering her!"
Oct. 7. Every morning regularly I'm blue; toward
dusk I grow happy, and when trotting home I hum
tunes, interspersed pretty thickly with "Go'long!"
" Get up! " and think of all sorts of nice things, with a
beautiful Orange sky right in front, and a happy circle in
prospect. I feel good regularly in the evenings, and
decidedly bad when I get up. I decided to-day that I




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             91
would read on Catholicism when at home, and take a
tract district and talk.  I meet many an intelligent
Catholic.  I meet too the most odd of remarks and
arguments. I was talking with a woman to-day about
our sins. " Yes," said she, " I'm a right bad Catholic,
thank God! "
Oct. 10. I suppose I ought to leave a practical exhortation at every house, but most of mine are expended
on my horse, and appear to have so much greater effect
upon him than upon the human kind that I think of confining my remarks to him in future. I ask if they have
a supply of Bibles? they say, " Oh yes, we have more
Bibles than we make good use of." It strikes me that
that phrase must have been in some shorter catechism,
or an example in penmanship, - people know it so well.
I am heartily tired and sick of hearing it. Once in a
while I meet a poor family where I give a Bible, and
try to say something, but it usuallyamounts to no more
than a general remark of about as much significance as
"' Fine day to-day."  You doesn't figure enough in my
talk.  If success in the work is gauged by despatch
and number of Bibles left, I have done pretty well.
Yesterday I made a hundred and nine calls, working
hard nine hours. This morning I met a nice old man,
and had a real good chat. As I left he gave me his
blessing and said: - "Pray much.  Look up, not
down. Burn inwardly! Said Dr. Duff,'A man of
fire is worth three men frozen.' Mark that!'A man
of fire!'"
Oct. 11. Coming home in P. M. met a little Polish
boy, a peddler. Asked him if his basket was heavy.
"'T is n't that," said he, "' but I have n't sold a cent's
worth to-day, and have lost a dollar's worth." The poor




92             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
fellow cried heartily. He said his father would lick him.
I gave him a dollar and quarter: he kissed my hand.
I felt happy. A cup of cold water.
Oct. 13. I asked one woman why Christ died. " My
dear boy," said she, " that's a very simple question, and
very easily solved, very; " and after saying that from
a child she had known the Scriptures, asked if Nicodemus was n't the man born blind, and Moses the ruler of
the Pharisees.
Oct. 27. In New York. I am twenty-one to-day,
and ought to put away childish things.  Had a talk
with Woodin to-day. He means to be a missionary.
Can it be that India will ever see me? May God prepare me.
His work was interrupted at this time by the Annual
Meeting of the American Board of Foreign Missions,
at Newark; after the week he returned for a few days
to his colportage, when he completed the canvass of his
district, and returned to Boston, rather out of sorts
with himself at what he considered an unfaithful service.
Such he always afterward regarded it, and certainly
whatever success he had was won by patient continuance in an unloved work. At the beginning of November he was again at home, just too late to cast his
one Presidential vote for Fremont.  It was a disappointment to him, both because he thought that he
would never again be in America at such an election,
and because he had taken an unusual interest in that
spirited campaign. "It would be pleasant to us as it
would to you," writes his father, "to have you throw
one vote for the President of the United States, but so
far as the vote of Massachusetts is concerned, that is




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             93
sure for Fremont, by many thousands; if it were a
closely contested vote, as that of Pennsylvania is likely
to be, I should say come home at all hazard or expense."
When he came home it was decided that he should
remain at his father's house for the remainder of the
year, extend his studies more widely, and busy himself
with such religious work as was at hand. The consciousness that he had failed to do all that he might
have done in his Bible agency, made him more anxious
now, when established at home, to resume the same
kind of work, and in accordance with a plan formed in
New Jersey, he took a district in the city, High Street
and neighborhood, in which to distribute tracts. Under
the system  in vogue, it is the custom for each visitor
to receive monthly a package containing perhaps fifty
copies of a single tract, which he is to distribute among
the families of his district, using the opportunity afforded
by the offer of the tract, to make the acquaintance of
the poor, with a view to giving Christian instruction
and learning their temporal wants. The efficacy of the
system depends upon the chance of the tract being appropriate, and upon the patience and tact of the visitor;
but it is at best a bungling system, and the visitor is
constantly entangled by it. There are few persons
indeed, who do not go their monthly round with disagreeable anticipations; they are heartily glad when it
is over, and likely enough reproach themselves for being unwilling to take up this cross, when they would
cheerfully seek the same end of instructing and aiding
the poor in some less artificial manner. Their sense
of delicacy is shocked, not so much by the contact
they are forced into with rudeness, as by the feeling




94             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
that they are assuming a position toward the poor
which they themselves would resent if the tables were
turned.
Perhaps the discipline was needed by David, but discipline it was to him. He made a pretty wry face at
the middle of each month as he began his rounds,
which occupied two or three afternoons, but he worried
through the work with occasional pleasant reliefs. He
dreaded the appearance of being thought proud, and
offered his unloved missives to a poor man with much
more sensitiveness than he would have felt toward one
his equal in rank. He had a feeling that these ignorant
poor men ought to be angry with him, and took their
graciousness, when it was shown, as a great favor. He
had no consciousness of superiority to them, would enter
a room blushing, and if allowed, sit down for a pleasant
talk on many things, stammer forth his message of
good tidings, then leave hurriedly, glad at heart if he
could say something, and submitting cheerfully to be
driven out of the next room by an enraged tailor with
his scissors.  One adventure which he had afforded
him great amusement. He wrote of it, both briefly in
his diary and more fully to two of his brothers, so that
I give the narrative in his own words:
Knocking at a door in High Street, it was slowly
opened by an Irishwoman, who beckoned me in mysteriously with her finger, waved me to a seat, muttering,
"I want to spake wid ye." I entered, thinking that a
tract might have been working.
"Perhaps ye a'n't a-knowin' me."  Dim visions of
cooks and housemaids passed before me, but none to
respond, and I answered, -




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            95
" Well, I'm not aware of the fact. Where did you
know me?"
"An' whar did ye lave yer father?"
"My father! I left him over in the other part of the
city. I have just dined with him."
"Och! ye tell me so! D'ye think I'm not a-knowin
ye?"
"And where?"
" In Ireland, sure!"
"You did! Why, I never was there in my life."
"Out upon ye, are n't ye knowin' better than that?
Did n't I know ye well, and did n't ye run away down
to Cork with the provisions and get thirty shillin', and
come back wid the small-pox, an' away to Ameriky,
and send back to yer father for the thirty shillin', an'
he send them on to ye, eh? "
I took several long breaths. And am I thus?
"And what part of Ireland was I born in?"
"County Cork."
" What town? "
" Bonny O'Clagh."
" And what was my father's name?"
"Sure yer mither's name was Sweeny, and yer father's name O'Burke! "
I took out my note-book to help my memory in case
I should be called to make deposition at any time respecting my right to lands in said town.
" Oh, now," said she, " as if ye did n't know yer own
name and all this! "
"What is my name?" I asked, persisting in ignorance.
" Neddy O'Burke." I took a long breath, - at last
thought to ask,



96            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
"But how do you know I am he?"
"Sure, an' ve have yer father's hair!"'And is my mother yet alive?"
"Oh, no, dear soul. Didn't ye have a sister,
swate little thing she was too, - and did n't we sit up
to the wake two days and two nights when she died,
and yer poor mither took on so about it, - an' she died
too, och hone!"
I almost dropped a tear.
" Had I any brothers? "
" To be sure: there's Dan, he's the oldest, an' you're
the youngest, an' there's two betwane, but I don't jist
remember them now."
" How old is my father?"
" I don' no."
"As old as you?"
"Yes, indade. I was at his weddin', and was only
about so high at the time."
" But how did you know about me?"
" Now, ye're mighty innocent, a'n't ye? Sure, the
last time ye was round, I thought an' it was you, an' I
told my daughter, an' I had a mind to spake wid ye,
whin ye come round again. An' didn't I hearn tell
of ye by my son, as workin' out in Dorchister, thegither wid Tom Lane?"
A pause ensued, when she offered me a pinch of
snuff, saying, -
"An' perhaps ye did n't know I was related to ye?"
"Well, no, I was not aware of it," declining the
snuff. "What relation are you?"
" Second cousin to yer mither."
As I rose to go, after more words, I said, -
" Won't you take a tract for sake of old times?"




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             97
" Illade an' I won't.  Out upon ye! What are ye
bringing round those dirty papers for? What would
yer father be doin' to yer if he knowed it?"
I thereupon took my leave, decidedly in a cloud, but
as I was walking along I thought that here at last was
a solution of many a strange freak of my childhood,
and my pride arose as I bethought myself of what
noble blood I was, - the Burkes being able to hold up
their heads with any one. I went again to see my
"cousin," but she remained positive. " Sure, there's
not another man in Ameriky has such fair hair as
ye! " she insisted.
What he wanted of this tract distribution was to acquire the art of presenting the Gospel simply; he knew
that most of his work was to be with uncultivated
minds, and lie desired to learn how to address such.
If he had shrunk from this task or given it up in discouragement, doubtless he would have found his after
experience in India very much more trying than it
was. Besides, he loved the poor, especially poor children; in his walks he would stop to play with them,
and give them sweetmeats; he wished to be brought
into a connection with them which implied some sort
of equality, the true equality of rank which is measured by divine rules. He found what he asked in two
ways more natural and more congenial to his feelings
than distributing tracts.
One was the care of a Bible-class of poor Swedes in
a Mission Sunday-school. They were rough men and
women, but possessed the affectionate and docile nature
so characteristic of the Swedish people. The teaching
was an admirable exercise for him; his class could speak..
7




98             LIFE AND LETTERS OF
English but indifferently, and were very ignorant, so
that he was compelled to present truth in its simplest
form and most intelligible language; this in fact was
just the sort of instruction, though not so difficult, as
that which he was to attempt in India. It was a fine
sight to see this ruddy boy, surrounded by the uncouth
crowd, looking, he used to say, as if they would devour
him, and putting his whole soul into the effort to make
them understand the Gospel. He visited them in their
homes, and got them to sing Swedish songs to him; he
helped the needy, and they all learned to look upon him
as one of their best friends.  Once, one of them lay
dying in the Hospital, and David was sent for. " How
that man loved me! " said he afterward with unaffected
humility; "he could not speak, but he pressed my
hand to his heart. It made me feel so guilty.  How
little I have done for these poor men, and yet they love
me so."
The other help which he found in converse with the
poor was through attendance upon what in Boston are
called "'Neighborhood Meetings."  The city missionaries in their regular ministry arrange to have weekly
an evening prayer-meeting, held in the room of some
poor Christian, where the neighbors are invited, the
missionary with outside help conducting the service.
To the educated Christian such meetings frequently
afford greater spiritual nutriment than the more formal
ones attended by his own class; there is a homely freshness about them which animates his soul, and he finds
himself often nearer the Divine presence, when among
the lowly, than if surrounded by those who might,
through his consciousness of their unspoken criticism,
impose restraint upon his freedom of utterance. David




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            99
conducted one of these meetings regularly and attended
others. He found a rare enjoyment in bringing to these
humble people the results of his own Biblical research
and Christian experience; he learned of them and kept
the lamp of love burning steadily, because he fed it with
the oil there to be purchased. So he would climb the
rickety stairs or stumble into the cellar, entering a
room hot and close, with dim candles sputtering on the
table, where rested a Bible and stack of hymn-books;
chairs of every sort ranged about the room and filled
by men, women, and children, who were likewise distributed upon every other available piece of furniture,
while babies crawled about the floor, breaking out into
unseemly noises at the most inopportune moment. Here
would he stand, his heart kindling as he looked upon
his audience, and in the simplest language try to teach
them the law of God, or to direct their sight to the
Divine love shilling in upon the assembly.
Children of all ages were brought to the meeting,
and he soon began to turn his attention to them; it was
in these meetings that he acquired the facility, afterward
so noticeable, of suiting his thought to the capacity of
children. He had some power of imagination, perhaps
no unusual endowment, but he cultivated it with such
industry that soon it became exceedingly fertile. His
life in Roxbury, his walks among the mountains of Berkshire and New Hampshire, were laid under contribution
to supply apt illustration, and the necessity for fresh
material made him very observant in his daily walks,
so that he would come to his meeting with quite a store
of illustration, gathered in a ramble through the streets.
His reading also gave of its abundance, and he began
to draw upon India for fund of anecdote.  It is an




100           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
illustration of the thoroughness with which he pursued
whatever commended itself to his heart and judgment.
Every week he was becoming more proficient in this
art of addressing plain people and children, an art
which was to be of inestimable value to him in his
missionary labors. That, however, as an end was not
so moving in his mind as the nearer one of success in
this undertaking. He loved the work and the people
whom he met; especially the children attracted him,
and they on their part were drawn to him.  " This
afternoon," he writes in his diary, " took two little boys,
Cassitye by name, to ride; they belong to my meeting.
We went out to Brookline and West Roxbury, and
into the woods. They enjoyed themselves highly; are
nice boys."  Our father at this time was President of
the City Missionary Society, and it was one part of the
pleasure which he took in David's residence at home
that they were in such complete sympathy in these
matters. By every interest they were united: so young
was the father, so growing the son, that they were companions; the father enjoyed his boy's mirth and enthusiasm, so accordant with his own sunny temper and
unselfish interest, and it was a happy life that the
household spent that winter.
This mission-work amongst the poor did not withdraw
him from his own church, in which he was ever ready
to spend his labor. He was faithful as a member, and
did not forget that the advantages of education which
he had received called for a return; so he was ready
with his suggestive comments upon the Bible, bringing
to the evening prayer-meeting, for the pleasure of others, some bit of exegesis which had struck his attention
in study. His name however was that of a missionary




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            101
student, and he did what he could to excite an interest
in missions at his church, devising a plan for making
the monthly concert of prayer more systematic and
comprehensive.  He was much concerned about the
best form of presenting missionary operations. "We
want," he said, "general facts and principles forced
upon our attention by means of life-like illustration."
He found this most to his mind in the English periodicals, and for this reason, as well as from a desire to
induce a more catholic interest in missions than that
confined merely to the workings of the American Board,
he used these periodicals very freely at the meetings of
the church.
His own spirit needed no prompting; if he should
become forgetful, his Tamil grammar and reader stood
upon his table, furnishing both reminder and an excellent means for conveying increased ardor into practical
channels. Once or twice he went up to Andover on a
Tuesday and surprised the " Brethren," who gave him
a most hearty welcome, while those of the number who
had already entered upon missionary life furnished him
with occasions for correspondence.  But the letters
which he wrote to the Brethren generally are based
on so intimate an acquaintance as to be too private for
publication. He spoke and wrote to them very freely;
especially when wide seas separated, he was emboldened
to a more firank disclosure of his mind than was likely
to be made where a face-to-face meeting might produce
the consciousness of an extreme openness; writing to a
friend upon the opposite side of the world, whom we
scarcely expect to meet again, is like whispering secrets
in the dark. The following extract is from a letter
written to Mr. Dean, of the Mahratta Mission:




102            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
[TO REV. SAMUEL C. DEAN.]
BOSTON, April 11, 1857.
I often sigh for Andover influences, but still am very
glad I remained at home. I long to be a missionary,
yet feel more and more my unfitness.  I seem to see
pretty clearly what a Christian ought to be, and yet
approach no nearer that desired state. Every missionary I am sure should feel an ardent love to the Saviour
in his own soul, for else how can he love others?
Do you feel your love deepened as you go on? I
know you must. I feel myself like a man standing on
the borders of some fair land open to him, who yet is
satisfied with but an occasional glance. The riches of
Christ's grace I know are free to all who seek them,
still I stand reluctant to apply.
What sort of a place is Seroor? By the map it appears to be on the Kokasee River. What sort of a river
is that? anything like the Shawshin? How that name
brings back old times! I seem to see you and Capron,
as you met Newman and me day after day, always
with the same benignant smiles, gracefully doffing your
hats as we passed. Do you suppose we shall ever all
meet again this side heaven? What a blessed, blessed
hope it is that we may and shall surely meet there at
last. Oh, we are not thankful enough for the many
kindly emotions and peaceful expectations which Christianity affords us.
With the exception of a short interval, when he gave
private tuition to the ward of a friend, his whole time
this year was his own, and was spent after his own mind,
in diligent study and in such occupations as I have intimated. He gave most attention to a more complete




DAVID COlT SCUDDER.            103
acquaintance with the Biblical studies of the previous
year, especially Hebrew, and to his Tamil; but the
more marked characteristic of his taste was the extent
of his general reading. He seemed to devour books,
reading with great rapidity, - too fast as he knew for
mental digestion, - and extending his inquiries in many
directions. It is, of course, no criterion of a man's
scholarship how many books he reads.  Attention is
drawn to this phase of his mental growth, as indicating
how rapidly he had outgrown the earlier stage of indifferentism toward a student's occupation, for even up
to graduation from college, active life had received his
first attention. It was his missionary purpose which
had started his mind; the same purpose governed the
growth.  At first, under the conviction that a liberal
education was essential to the efficiency of a missionary,
he had begun to read upon subjects of which he was
ignorant; now, without any careful calculation of the
value of his reading for the special end first proposed,
lie was led by interest in his pursuits to a far more varied course of reading than ever he would have been
likely to pursue, unprompted at the outset by some such
special end. One would have said in his boyhood, and
even in his college days, that the last character in which
he would appear would be that of a bookish man, and
yet he had now become so much of a book-lover as to
be touched with the fever of making a perfect library
in his special department of India; so much of a bookfancier, indeed, as to treat his books as playmates, take
them from the shelves to dandle and to feast his eyes
upon their forms and dress.
Two writers may be singled out, from the many
whose acquaintance he now made or continued, as




104            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
especially his favorites, - Thomas Arnold and Isaac
Taylor. He knew Arnold, as he is known to most
Americans, chiefly through the medium of Stanley's
admirable Life. So far as he was conversant with the
accidents of Arnold's position, with the movement in
the Church of England, its action upon Arnold's mind,
and the reaction of his earnest spirit upon it, he could
appreciate more perfectly the character thus revealed;
but an interest in the man himself existed, and always
may exist apart from a full comprehension of the man's
surroundings. Such an interest David felt in Arnold;
it was in fact what he would have felt in himself, could
he have been separable from himself, for he was attracted by just such a character as his friends discovered
in him. It has been noted that in earlier days he had
read John Foster; the difference between these two
men indicates to some extent the difference in David's
spiritual affinities at the two stages of his growth. Then,
in the maze of his self-inquiry, led astray into gloomy
introspection, he was drawn to the meditative seriousness which characterizes Foster; such words of sombre
thought as met him gave voice to his own unspoken
emotions, and he even began to covet the life of a
recluse.  Now, escaped from the entanglement of a
disordered conscience, and yet honest in his dealings
with his own heart, hasting to the fulfilment of the
great work which enlarged his soul, he found in the
earnestness of Arnold a counterpart of his own ideal
excellence.  Just these two classes, the serious and the
earnest, seem to divide thoughtful men, and we have to
thank Arnold for making current the word earnest, and
for stamping the coin with his own image.
The writings of Isaac Taylor had a somewhat similar




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            105
charm for him, since they corresponded with his own
natural treatment of religious topics. The catholicity
of his mind induced an exercise of charity toward all
forms of belief and disinclined him to prejudgment,
while his habits as a student led him to a search for fundamental principles in any system. This temper had
been confirmed under the admirable tuition of Dr.
Hopkins, who, charged by some with an over-cautiousness of mind, showed the real nature of his caution in
dismissing class after class; impressed with his habit of
careful examination, but not impressed with his private
opinions upon the subjects to be examined.  David
found in Taylor a method of inquiry, agreeing with
his own less ambitious method, and he turned to the
writings of that author for a completion of the lines of
thought upon which he had begun, but which his youth
and lack of erudition forbade him to follow to great
lengths.  He had a confidence in Taylor's writings,
which was no doubt in great measure the result of their
agreeing so totally, both in subject and manner of treatment, with all that he had himself applied his mind to
finding out. Hence he read with pleasure anything that
he could lay hold of, and used to show an enthusiastic
delight as he discovered one after another half-forgotten
work of that voluminous writer, too careless of his own
reputation.
Though more of a student, he kept his old love for
Nature, and daily took his excursions out of town or
about the city. He revisited old haunts. " Roxbury
Neck was my walk," he writes, " where I brought up
on Tommy's Rocks. Such a time as I did have! How
old Nep came back! Remember that pond on Akron
Street, just before you enter St. James from Warren,




106           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
with steep rocks on one side? and how Nep one day
ran right down their face? I do. And don't you remember how there used to be springs on the sidewalk,
opposite the Warren House on the right as you go up
the street? they bubble still! and that pump which used
to be chained? chained still! and the reservoir on the
Rocks with a ball on top? there still! " He explored
Boston, with a companion if possible, but generally
alone.  He loved the old place which had grown so
familiar to him; he never could fairly live in a place
without carrying off in his memory the very shapes of
houses and shops, of sign-boards and street-turnings.
"You must always be ready to give me street-gossip,"
he writes from India. "Are any new buildings going
up? How does the block in Winthrop Place look?
It was half done when we left."
He closed this year of intermission by a summer
jaunt in Connecticut, and went as usual to the farm in
Wethersfield where he had worked so enthusiastically
just before entering college. He resumed his old emnployment, but now he writes:- " Finishing our' home
lot' is quite an affair, though it may look small on paper.  They began the day I came, and have been at it
ever since. Next week we begin on the meadow hay,
which will be finished in about two weeks. By that
time I shall throw up my hat and shoes, used up decidedly, and give three cheers for Wethersfield, but
nine most hearty ones for good old Boston and for
home. After all I was n't made to be a farmer. I have
had as pleasant a time as I could ask for here, but...
I am glad I was not called to this life, but to another."




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             107
CHAPTER  VI.
COMPLETION OF THEOLOGICAL STUDY.
[1857-1859.]
IN September 1857 he returned to Andover, resuming his studies where he had left off a year before.
Two years remained for the completion of systematic
study, and he entered on his work with increased enthusiasm, for India seemed to be only waiting for these
two years to be finished. I am indebted to Rev. Charles
Ray Palmer, of Salem, Mass., for an account of David's
life during this time, - an account which is more valuable since it comes from one previously unacquainted
with him, anid able to note afresh the characteristics
which llnmrked him.  It is not always easy to know
how far one's estimate of a brother's character or attainments is free fiom a too partial consideration, and
I gladly avail myself of this friendly testimony to fill
out the sketch of David's life:" My acquaintance with your brother commenced in
September, 1857.  He at that date joined my class in
Andover Theological Seminary, which was then beginning its Middle Year.  We had known one another by
name before, through mutual friends, and were soon
familiarly associated, I believe with mutual regard.
Nothing ever happened to disturb the relations so established between us, and my satisfaction with him as a
friend, as a fellow-student, and as a Christian brother,




108            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
was never less than complete. His genial fellowship in
the pursuits which we had in common, his talents, good
sense, and scholarship, his energy and thorough enthusiasm, - partly a matter of temperament and partly a
result of the habit of self-concentration, -and above
all his humble, devout, and spiritual piety, marked him
at once in my estimation as no ordinary man, and speedily commanded my hearty admiration and esteem.
"I confess to a feeling of doubtfulness whether any
description of David Scudder can be written, which
would give to those who never saw him a conception
of him at all adequate. He was truly a man of genius,
and a man of genius never can be ranked or estimated.
How great such a man will be, if he lives, none can
affirm beforehand: how great he is, is vaguely comprehended by his contemporaries: how great he was, the
world that comes after looks back with wonder to see.
There were men in Scudder's class who in particular
powers excelled him; but every one by this time knows
that to have particular powers in excellence is not necessarily to be a remarkable man. There were others
who, upon a tutor's books, would rank as more uniformly successful in reciting; but every one knows by
this time that it is not in the tutor's books that we are
to look for the data to determine who is the most of a
man in a class.  Of just that peculiar constitution by
temperament, by mental qualities, by what happy influences have wrought upon natural susceptibility, and by
what are immanent of the results of rapid and easy
acquisition from manifold sources - which you recognize at once as rendering the person in whom you see
it certain to be something in the world —of just that
which for the want of a better name we call genius,




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            109
David Scudder had far more than any of his class. I
do not hesitate at all to say this. Looking back from
this point of time, I feel more confident than I did when
we were together that he was the man of whom all
discerning observers would predict success more positively than of any other.
" It is a remark of Francis Jeffrey that men of truily
great powers have generally been cheerful, social, indulgent; while a tendency to sentimental whining or
fierce intolerance may be ranked among the surest
symptoms of little souls and inferior intellects. No one
will ever recal Scudder but as the very embodiment of
sunny good-nature, so free and abundant in its manifestations of itself as to be almost mirthfulness.  He
had indeed not only'the habit of being pleased,' but
a habit of being amused. A characteristic passage in
a letter of his occurs to me: speaking of the first imnpressions made upon him by sights and sounds of India,
he says, -' The first morning that I walked out in this
new land I fairly ached that I might have some one like
you to nudge and have a good laugh with.' It was
an evidence of the healthfulness of his whole being,
that while he keenly entered into all the wrongs and
miseries of the world of men, and was burdened with
a true sympathy with the suffering from any cause, he
was at the same time - and that without any painful
lack of dignity -- as keenly alive to all the fun that
could be found in men's follies and mistakes, always
appreciating with great zest everything whimsical or
humorous.
" Yet with all he did not lack that part of the temperament of genius which renders it' soft as the air to
receive impressions.' He was sensitive, he was even




110            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
tender, and liable, like other intense natures, to periods
of depression.  This was at any rate true of him in
college and in the seminary; I know both from testimony and from observation.  As he matured in Christian livingr, he may have gained a greater equanimity.
I remember times when he seemed to be entirely overcome of the' blues'; they were short times, but while
they lasted he was exceedingly melancholy.  Few I
think will be surprised at this. It is the inevitable fortune of persons who are the most of the time wrought
up to the pitch of enthusiasm, to suffer periodic reactions from a physical or psychologic necessity - reactions which moral treatment will not reach.  Rest and
diversion are the only restoratives.  I recollect that
David was greatly comforted once by my telling him
something like this, because lie was disposed to blame
himself for ever being anything but cheerful.
"I do not recal anything to be spoken of as striking
in David's student-life. I mean in the restricted sense
of the term.  He was a thorough and systematic student, regular in his attendance upon all exercises.  He
was a conscientious member of the seminary -which
all students are not.  He never manifested that contempt for regulations or defiance of authority which
some seem to consider essential to their manliness; I
believe he despised it. In the recitation-room he was
always well prepared.  In the mutual examinations of
Middle Year, under the Moderation of the Professor,
he could maintain himself under the sharpest crossfiring, as many able men cannot. In the exercises of
criticism in Senior Year, he showed good appreciative
powers. He was a diligent learner, a candid and vigorous thinker, and though steadfast in his opinions, a




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            ilt
tolerant opponent. He had none of the affectation of
independence which disgraces some Divinity students,
but he had the real independence which too many lack.
His course with respect to the seminary curriculum was
most characteristic. He never forgot what he was to
be - a pioneer missionary in India, and this fact determined his attitude with respect to the different departments of study.  In the study of the sacred languages
lie was zealous as might be expected.  He acquired
languages readily, and was an excellent linguist.  Systematic Theology he gave sufficient attention to, but
evidently did not make it a specialty. He was much
more anxious to obtain a systematic view of truth which
he could defend against Heathenism, than to learn the
shibboleths of schools, or attract notice as a champion of
superexcellent orthodoxy.  He showed no keenness to
enter into the polemics of Theology, and no disposition
to identify himself with a Tlheological party.  But he
did desire and labor to attain a clear understanding of
what was essential to a Theological system, and what
was the substance of the faith once delivered to the
saints. In the Rhetorical exercises of the seminary he
had comparatively little interest, perhaps too little; indeed, after graduation he confessed as much to me.
The explanation was, that he judged that for the science
and the art of public speaking he should have no use in
India whither his face was set. It was a fixed purpose,
therefore, that with the Rhetorical Society he had little
or nothing to do, laughingly refusing the solicitations
of'the embodiment of Rhetoric,' as he jocosely called
the President of the society, and in the department of
Sacred Rhetoric he bestowed comparatively little effort.
He was content to do no more than necessary to sat



112            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
isfy the claims of the Professor. On the other hand,
Ecclesiastical and Dogmatic History had a closer connection with his future work, and in that department
he was a very diligent student."
It must be added to this statement that aside from
David's judgment as to the comparative value of his
studies, his own mental bias furnished the reason for
much of his choice. Abstract truth and systems of
truth were not in themselves attractive subjects of
thought with him; it was when they were embodied in
some concrete form, as the historical for instance, that
he preferred to consider them. One of his friends, once
meeting him on a walk in Andover, noticed that he
wore a very lugubrious expression, and stopped him
with - "What makes your. face so long, David?"
" Oh," he sighed, " I am thinking up my creed." With
him this was both a difficult and an uncongenial task; his
belief was positive and had its seal in earnest operation,
but he disliked setting his belief forth in its dogmatic
form. Thought found its expression more aptly in
practical effort than in rhetoric. Even his letters show
this: they read smoothly where he is dealing with incident, but the moment he comes to any statement of
feeling or of opinion, there is an abruptness as if he
only began what he had to say and left the remainder
to be inferred: for this reason there are few letters
written by him in America which I have thought it
worth while to print; while once in India, his letters
become most admirable interpreters both of his outer
and of his inner life. He had thought, clear and determinate, but he lived rather than wrote it.
The studies peculiar to his own work were prosecuted




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           113
during these two years with as much energy as his
accumulating tasks would allow.  He foresaw that
Hindu philosophy would demand his attention, and
before any very close research into its mysteries, he
aimed at as thorough a comprehension of the history
of Occidental philosophy as his limited time would permit, while with Orientalism in its outward form he
grew daily more familiar.  The Tamil language he
continued to acquire, and in connection with that study
entered upon more careful inquiry into the philosophy
of language, studying some of the more attainable results of Comparative Philology.  He was fortunate
in beginning Tamil when the grammar had to be his
chief mode of access to the language, since it insured a
more thorough foundation to his knowledge of the
tongue, and by the kind of study which it required
gave a more philosophical character to his early intimacy with the movements of the Hindui mind. To
make the acquaintance of any language through familiar practice alone may give one a readier use of the
vernacular, but is very likely to operate as a barrier
against an acquaintance with the thought that underlies the foundation of the speech. David had besides
the valuable aid of Mr. Hoisington, who was. able to
be his guide both in the familiar use and in the more
scientific treatment of Tamil. To his home in Connecticut David took a journey as often as was practicable, and found in him something more than a guide in
scholarship: lie formed a warm friendship with him
and his family, so that when in the spring of 1858 Mr.
Hoisington died, David could mourn with the: family
the loss of a noble Christian friend, who had been. of
inestimable worth to him.
8




11A4           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
If when connected with the seminary before he had
been marked for his missionary zeal, he took now a
still more prominent position, and was at once identified
most closely with the cause of missions. Of course he
was in his place among the Brethren, and was the soul
of that little company.  "He projected himself also,"
continues Mr. Palmer in his letter," with characteristic
energy into the Society of Inquiry, and ultimately the
Monthly Concert.  The society meetings very quickly
showed the power of his influence, in the increasing
attractiveness to all earnest men in the Institution, and
in the greater numbers attending them. By the end
of the Middle Year of his class, so entirely was he recognized as the leading spirit in all matters connected
with the objects of that society, that he was elected its
President for the year following. Besides this public
working in behalf of the cause of missions in the seminary, he labored incessantly in the opportunities offering to reach individual consciences with what he believed
to be the call of the Master. If I am not mistaken, he
privately labored with every member of the class, striving by every means to interest them to the point of
feeling personally drawn to missionary life, and with
respect to several he was entirely successful. To-day,
though he sleeps in an Indian grave, he preaches Christ
through more mouths than one or two in dark places of
the earth.  Thus'his works do follow him.'  Nor
were such efforts confined to his own class. By similar
methods he reached others to whom he gained access in
the classes below him; and when he had done all in
the way of solicitation that he could, he planned still
another method. By means of his official position in
the Society of Inquiry, he made arrangements for a dis



DAVID COIT SCUDDER.      l     iS
cussion, at one of the monthly meetings of that society,
of the question, -' On what principles should a Christian student decide to what field of labor he is called?'
or something to that effect.  To take the parts of this
discussion he selected two who had decided to be missionaries abroad, one who had devoted himself to the West,
another whom he believed to have conscientiously decided that his duty was to be a pastor at home, and two
others who were still undecided. (I give the details as I
recollect them and may not be exact.) When he had
perfected these arrangements, prayerfully and somewhat
anxiously he awaited the result. It was a most interesting discussion, and satisfied his expectations in itself
considered; whether it accomplished its design in awakening consciences which he believed to be slumbering,
I have no means of knowing. The personal influence
which he exerted by all these methods could hardly be
overstated.
" One thing must still be added, or this feature of his
life at Andover will not be appreciated. The seminary
classes are very unequally constituted. There are men
fresh from college, and men who have been for years
teachers in various positions, and men from other avocations in life. There is a good measure of friendliness
between these widely differing individuals, and more
and more of sympathy grows up between every two,
through the influence of their association in prayer and
study, but as a rule, the younger men are never
appreciated by the older ones, the men of twentytwo or twenty-three by those of twenty-eight, thirty,
and thirty-five, and are often made keenly to feel
that they are not appreciated. But Scudder was the
youngest of all, and ever conducted himself as if re



116            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
membering the fact; and yet he commanded the respect
of all, and was himself a power over all, as I have shown
above."
If the testimony of his comrades could be taken, I
think that additional force would be given to the above
statement. David was the last person to allude to his
own success, and his modest bearing forbade any impression of that pragmatic importance which we sometimes attach to efficient workers in a confined sphere.
Yet the fact remains that whereas when he reentered
the seminary, Middle Year, the number of the Brethren
was but five, that number increased steadily until at his
graduation it was twenty. These were men who had
definitely decided to enter the missionary work, but the
missionary spirit may justly be supposed to have been
more widely extended, entering into the character and
work of those who never left their own land. It is not
intended to refer this remarkable increase solely to the
power of David's personal influence, but Professors and
students alike knew and testified that he was the moving cause, prominent above all others. He believed in
individual preaching, and applied himself with great tact
and industry to the art of finding out the best method
of reaching men. One of his brother missionaries gives
an instance: — " One morning he told me of his plans
to interest one of his class, -a musician and noted lover
of music, — by drawing his attention to the intricate
system of Arabic music, knowing that this would open
a door to frequent conversations. It was his custom on
three or four days of each week to select some one of
his own or another class, whom he thought he might
influence, and make him a companion on a long walk,




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            117
in which the subject of personal consecration to missionary work was one of the topics."
His fertile mind conceived another mode of creating
a general interest in missions, which with three other of
his classmates at Andover he carried into execution, —
a series of papers in the " New York Independent," intended to present principles as the most valuable form of
appeal. The subjects of his contributions to the series
were " Reform in Missions," "Return to the Principles
of the Early Church," " Christian Missions and Christian Beneficence," and'"The Family a Missionary
Nursery." This last paper contained his favorite views,
then occupying much of his attention, upon the matter
of interesting and educating children in the mission
cause, a matter which will more fully be treated of
hereafter.  It need hardly be added that he continued
his correspondence with such of the missionary brethren as had entered upon their fields of labor. He wrote
gladly to them for the love he bore them, and because
thus only could he most fervently give expression to
his pent-up desires.  " Dear Capron," he writes, " how
I could cry for very longing to see you and have a good
talk like old times. When discouraged, I go back of
the cemetery where you told me that your throat was so
bad that you feared you could not go. God was better
to you than your fears. He will be to me." The following are extracts from a letter to Mr. Dean, of Satara:
ANDOVER, June 7, 1859.
"We have just had one of our delightful meetings
of the Brethren here in my room, the room where
Obookiah once lived, and where, tradition says, he first
began to live the new life. We number now some




118           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
twenty members, and good substantial ones too. Tonight we are feeling that we have not been doing
enough for our brethren outside, and I hope we may
the rest of the term pray and labor more assiduously to
interest them in missions..... Dear Dean, by the
time this letter reaches you, I shall be about leaving
this sacred place, which has become endeared to me by
so many precious associations. As I look back, how
the thoughts do whirr around me. You and C. walking side by side around Indian Ridge; all those little
meetings in C.'s room and that little company of'believers.' Precious days they were, were n't they? And
they are all gone, and days of equal joy since known
will soon follow in their train. How the future does
look; bright, yet not wholly so, for many a dark river
must be crossed before we reach the end of our way.
As I write these words, the remembrance of your calm,
quiet confidence comes before me and really does refresh my mind. Yes, as I was saying to a dear missionary brother to-day who had met with a sad cross in
his path, —as we were walking back of the cemetery,here is the hill that I like to visit when despondent, for
here one day C. talked with me, and said he feared his
throat might prevent his going to India; and now he
is there, fairly at work. Begone dull doubt and welcome faith. You in India. Capron too. Winchester
in Turkey; but        at home..... Is it a year
since I wrote you last! Another year would God I
might write you from Madura!"
During these two years he was in the habit of spending Sunday at home, for the sake of his Swedish class
and his neighborhood meeting. It was a new life in




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            119
the household when Saturday noon came and brought
with it David, bustling with the glow of return, full of
questions and anecdotes, and hurrying away after dinner to libraries and bookstores on his many errands.
Monday morning he was off again with his bundles,
returning to seminary with a similar eagerness, making
everybody who came in contact with him partake of
his good-natured cheeriness. I close this chapter, which
I have intended chiefly to contain the testimony of his
friends, with a letter fiom his classmate, Rev. J. M.
Sturtevant, Jr., of Hannibal, Missouri, premising that
it anticipates mention of a journey taken to the West,
a year later: —
" To me the most striking trait in David's character
was his earnestness, and it was not only that earnestness of voice and manner, that enthusiasm about trifles
which made him seem rough and eccentric to me when
I first met him, but which afterward became one great
charm of his society, - he was in earnest about everything lie turned his attention to, but not equally in earnest on all subjects. His feelings increased in depth
while they grew more quiet in their manifestations as
the theme rose in dignity. This peculiarity of his character made him an enigma to many. He seemed so full
of life and enthusiasm on ordinary themes, and so quiet
when the most sacred themes were touched, that few
suspected the depth of his religious feelings. I can truly
say that I never saw a man who had more of what Dr.
Arnold calls moral earnestness. His morbid habit of
introspection made him often distrust the sincerity of
his own religious emotions, but no one who had an intimate acquaintance with him could doubt for a moment




120           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
that they were of the deepest and most fervent character. His intense individuality made direct personal
appeal to others a hard undertaking for him. Perhaps
most persons who have long been in the habit of thinking and judging for themselves find something of the
same troubles. Personal appeal does not seem to them
best calculated to be useful to them, and they doubt
their power to make it useful to others. But while he
shrank from it, he longed to seize this and all other
means of promoting the kingdom of Christ. If any one
had called at the room of a fellow-student for personal
religious conversation and he knew it, no matter how
late it was, he never would retire to rest until he had
heard the result of the conversation.
" Perhaps my most vivid recollections of him cluster
around two conversations. One occurred one Sabbath
at Andover. There was quite a revival of religion in
Phillips Academy. Our meetings all day had been full
of interest; until very late I had an inquiry-meeting in
my room to which God in his mercy had sent several
members of my Bible-class to ask the way of life. At
last quite exhausted I was left alone. In my sense of
weariness and helplessness my thoughts turned at once
to David. I seemed almost too tired to pray more, but
I would go to his room, quite sure to find him still up,
and he would calm me with one of his earnest, heartfelt prayers, and then I would return to my own room
to sleep. Often had I felt amid the storms of a very
uneven, a very inconsistent Christian life, that I would
give everything to possess that simplicity and straightforwardness which so pervaded David's religion. Guess
my surprise when, on my asking him to pray with me,
he replied with a burst of emotion such as I had never




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            121
before known him to exhibit,' I can't! you must pray
for me.' And then he went on to lament his lack of sincere religious emotion, almost wishing that he had been
a more wicked man that he might know greater heights
and depths of religious feeling. His humility humbled
me more than many reproofs could have done, and
though he knew it not, he certainly was the best teacher
for me that night.
"The other conversation was impressive chiefly for
the circumstances under which it took place. I can
hardly give you an idea of its details in this short
compass. He was just about to leave me, after a short
visit at this place, and we never expected to meet again
in this world. We were walking upon the bold bluff
just below the town, about two hundred feet above
the river which ran at our feet.  We talked of old
times, pleasant scenes never to return, but bright in our
memories as the sunshine of that fair summer day; and
then our thoughts went forward into the future, and we
laughed with almost boyish glee over some of his funny
fancies as to what might be, and then we grew more
sober as we thought of that world-wide separation, and
talked of the mystery of that Providence which had
destined us to such remote positions, and had probably
appointed us equally dissimilar experiences. Then we
talked of that eternity beyond, to which, by whatever
path, we were both bound as surely as the waters at
our feet were gliding toward the ocean. We reasoned
thus until all our earthly life which, while we talked
of its varied possibilities and all its depths of feeling,
seemed like a great sea before us, was like the Mississippi at our feet, narrowed to our vision, by the
height from which we looked, to a mere belt across the




122            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
landscape, and the heavenly land seemed as real and as
near as the bluffs gleaming in the sunshine miles away
across the river, where we could just catch on their
summits the signs of an inhabited country, and on the
very horizon, faintly drawn, the spires of a distant city.
So we parted, but I never shall forget that glimpse of
the heavenly land. The narrow belt was narrower for
him than I thought; crossing the river and entering
the city of God came sooner than I expected. I pray
that even as we talked that morning we may meet ere
long in that land whose rivers will not always make us
think of death, and whose hills will dwell in everlasting
sunshine."




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            123
CHAPTER VII.
ORIENTAL STUDIES.
[1859-1861.]
WHEN David left the seminary, it was with the expectation of sailing for India in the autumn of the year
following; this expectation was not realized, various
unforeseen delays occurring which kept him in the country till the early spring of 1861. He remained during
this interval in Boston, at his father's house, occupied
with work which by degrees came to look almost exclusively Indiaward. In the seminary and previously
he had followed various lines of study bearing upon
India, and the result was a growing familiarity with
Hindui speech, literature, philosophy, history, and manners, but - except in his study of Tamil - he had not
investigated any subject with that strictness which he
desired; his prescribed tasks and various occupations
forbade him to give more than his spare hours to India.
Now, master of his own time, he turned with avidity
to the books which he had been collecting, and made
the study of them his chief employment. The eighteen
months, which elapsed between his leaving Andover
and his departure for India, found him going deeper
and deeper into the mysteries of Hindufism; his interest thus concentrated impelled him to more thorough
research into a few subjects than would have been possible had many occupied his time.  His own library
and the library of the Oriental Society at New Haven,




124            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
together with the public and private collections in Boston and Cambridge, furnished him with material, and
in the confined department of Hindfi literature, as introduced by English, French, and German scholars, he
thought that he had used pretty much all to which he
could gain access.
It is an example of the educating power inhering in
a great purpose, once possessing the soul, that my
brother should at last have been brought to a kind of
work so foreign from his mental constitution. It is an
example also of the broad foundation upon which the
very purpose rested in his mind, that his habit of measuring study by its practical value in his career did not
lead him to set aside the investigation of the abstruse
philosophy of India as not germane to his work. The
abstruseness did not attract him, although his active
mind found pleasure in such alien speculations to a degree that never would have been predicated from quite
recent observations; it was the bearing of the work
upon his future labors which gave it a hold upon his
interest. He found it not always easy to pursue this
course, since he was not always sustained in it by the
judgment of his missionary friends. Yet the predilection of Mr. Hoisington for these studies had influenced
him quite strongly in his choice of them.
He gave increased attention also to the study of
Tamil, and had the valuable assistance of Rev. Edward
Webb, a missionary of the Madura District, who was
at the time in America. During this period his letters to missionary friends give some insight into the
character of his studies. One of these friends, Rev.
George T. Washburn, of Battalagundu, Madura District, India, had been a college and for a while a semi



DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            125
nary classmate; a common purpose and destination had
brought them together, and their intercourse at Andover had been characterized by a very full interchange
of sentiment upon matters relating to their expected
labors in India; and Mr. Washburn preceding David,
correspondence followed upon the same topics, until
they were reunited in India; from David's share in
this correspondence I am able to give a more familiar
statement of his opinions upon his Oriental studies
than could be gained otherwise.
He found it most easy, natural, and agreeable to his
purpose to throw the results of his study into some written form, and accordingly there remain three or four
essays and series of essays, containing proofs of his
industry and indications of his attainments. The first
of these was the series of papers to which he alludes at
the close of the following extract:[TO REV. GEORGE F. HERRICK.]
BOSTON, Oct. 28, 1859..... By the time you receive this, you will I
presume have found your way about the great city
[Constantinople]. What a dream you must be in -
for what amazing feelings will such a city force upon a
student of church history. I feel as if in thought I
could share the excitement with which you draw near
your future home. But I don't much like to think of
it, nor of any of our fellows who are favored like you.
It makes me discontented. I burn to be off, and feel
that only the grace of God can keep me from unworthy
chafing. But I am sure that my post is here for the
present, and I do really praise God when I see any one
take his leave of home. Blessed privilege! God grant
that I may soon share it.




126            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
You have long pronounced me incorrigible. Everybody must now coincide in your view. My morning is
spent on Tamil grammar, my afternoon on Ancient
Hindui history, my evening on British Indian history.
The first I mean to work steadily at; I love it and it
loves me. The last I must finish this winter, and as to
the other, I may as well tell one of the four that I am
getting ready to write a set of papers on Ancient Indian
Literature, as illustrative of Hindui character in general, hoping to show the noble capacity of the race.
These papers were published in the "Boston Recorder," a weekly religious journal. They were twelve
in number, and limited of course to a very brief and -
from the manner of the publication - disjointed exposition of the subject, but well adapted to the object for
which they were written, to give an interesting summary
of Hindu literature in its chronological order, for the
purpose of indicating the capacity of the race. It may
be observed, too, that the ability to present the subject
so concisely, and yet in so lively a fashion, supposes a
power of mastering the study, higher in character than
that which merely undertakes to record at length the
same results of investigation.
In the two following letters he alludes to his study
of Tamil, indicating the sort of interest which he continued to take in linguistics apart from the practical
value of which the Tamil speech was to be to him: —
[TO REV. GEORGE F. HERRICK.]
EssEx, CONN., June 11, 1860.
It has afforded me not a little pleasant thought
of late to see how closely you and I are to be connected




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            127
in our missionary labors. Whilst you are attempting to
stammer out the message from above in a speech which
laughs at all order, after the English sort, and which
calls upon a man to deglottize himself, so I, in my poor
way, shall attempt the same after the same fashion.
For if you will notice, Tamil alike with Turkish belongs to that class of Agglutinative languages so utterly
at variance with Indo-European speech. I have been
studying a South Indian Comparative grammar of late,
and have been struck with the remarkable analogies
therein drawn out between two languages, geographically so separate. But poor fellow! to think of you
sweltering not merely under the load of one tongue, so
diametrically opposed to inborn notions of what speech
should be, but even forced to hoist on to your aching
back another language, belonging to still another class.
And what can I say for the poor unfortunates of the
Persian hills, who, as Dr. Perkins tells me, if they
would learn Persian well, must also dig out Arabic and
Turkish? It seems like attempting to obliterate the
traces of Babel thus to shoulder three languages, the
types of the three great families of tongues. I with
my simple Tamil, may well flatter myself.
[TO REV. GEORGE T. WASHBURN.]
BOSTON, July 27, 1860.
Perhaps you remember that when you left
I was at work about the Hill Tribes of India, as the
remnant of the aborigines.  The essay is done.
I trace the earliest notices of aboriginal races in the
Hindu books, then give a sketch of all that now seem
allied to them, gathered from Travels and Oriental Magazines, closing with a brief statement of the present




128            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
opinion respecting their affinities, judged from their
speech. Its novelty at least will not be denied. So
you have read "Ancient Sanskrit Literature" (Miiller).  I need not ask you whether you enjoyed it, for
so rich a treat you could not but enjoy. Since you left,
the Boden Professorship at Oxford has been made vacant by the death of Wilson. Three rivals compete
for the chair, Muller, Monier Williams, the author of a
Sanskrit Grammar and English and Sanskrit Lexicon,
and Dr. Ballantyne, of Benares.  I trust Muller will
get it, for then we may count upon his more undivided
attention to the study.  Jos. Mullens has published
a book which shares a prize with a similar treatise by
Ballantyne, called " Christian Aspects of Hindui Philosophy."  I do not however set a very high value
upon it. I take it that while Mullens may be a good
statistician, he can be but an indifferent metaphysician.
Moreover he is not a student at first hand, I judge,
whereas Ballantyne is..... I have laid out a course
of study upon Hindui Philosophy; have got a host of
little books, aphorisms of the different schools, and begin to-morrow on the Sankya Philosophy. Whether
my courage will endure to the end I dare not predict,
but I question much. Any study in that direction,
after leaving the country, must of course be limited
and what I do must be done now...... Tell it not in
Madura, I have begun Sanskrit. I got Oppert's grammar in French, commendable for its brevity at least,
and am now at work scratching unsightly marks supposed to represent sounds. I do not expect, at present
at least, to more than peep into it, but I thought that a
slight acquaintance with the principles of its grammar
might aid me in studying Tamil, and especially in the




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            129
use of such works as " Caldwell's Comparative Grammar," where Sanskrit is ever referred to for illustration.
Perhaps I may carry it on at intervals hereafter. It
will be a pleasing diversion.
The essay referred to in the last letter appeared in
the " Bibliotheca Sacra" for October, 1860, under the
title " Aborigines of India." When that was completed
and published, the day of departure, which he had been
anticipating might be earlier, was set for the following
February or March, and the question arose in his mind,
how the intervening time should be occupied. The
necessary preparations for departure, a proposed jaunt
to the West, and his various plans for interesting the
churches in the missionary enterprise, seemed to him
insufficient for fully occupying his time, and thus ward —
ing off that impatience and worry which he knew would
get hold of him. He decided to give more close attention to a subject which he had long been engaged upon
in a fragmentary way, - a systematic view of Hindu
Philosophy. He wished for his own sake to reach a
more determinate knowledge, and no work of which
he knew covered the ground which he proposed to occupy; the prospect of producing a work, really worthy
as a matter of scholarship, and supplying a desideratum
in Oriental studies, gave zest to his intention, and
though harassed with numberless calls upon his time,
he worked diligently and perseveringly, completing his
task but a short time before sailing. The essay was
published in the " Bibliotheca Sacra," under the title of
"A Sketch of Hindui Philosophy," appearing in two
parts in the numbers for July and October, 1861. The
following letter is in reference partly to this essay, ancd
9




130            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
in reply to certain doubts expressed by his correspondent, whether it were worth while to devote unusual attention to subjects that after all had little direct bearing
upon the missionary work, which was to be bestowed
almost exclusively upon the degraded classes. "I hope
you will keep on studying," he writes; " I don't think
we know too much about Hinduiism in its higher forms.
Only don't expect that such knowledge is going to be
any great direct missionary agency to the people."
[TO REV. GEORGE T. WASHBURN.]
BOSTON, NOV. 23, 1860.
One would hardly think perhaps that I was
following the suggestion of your letter, could one see
me, day after day, poring over Yoga, Nyaya, and Vaiseshika schemes of thinking. But do not think I misunderstand you. I liked your remarks; they fell in with
and gave expression to thoughts which had been floating in my own mind in the shape of questions. I do
not like to speak too strongly. I am not inclined to be
over-confident as to my success as a missionary. Still,
I have a tolerably correct conception of what a missionary life should be. If I come short of reaching my
ideal, that is another matter. I do feel this,- a longing desire to get my general, wishy-washy notions of
Hindfiism  some substantial bottom.  I don't believe
there is another system of faith, or rather congeries of
discordant systems, to be found under heaven that will
compare with that of India. An inane jumble of fact
and fiction, myth and history, religious, metaphysical
and superstitious notions.  Such Hinduism  certainly
appears to a novice. I feel uneasy until I grasp some
few principles or facts which may serve to attract about




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             131
them the varied phases of faith that India presents. I
think the chaos is becoming less " voidic " to me. We
need to bear in mind the great ethnological fact of the
presence in India of at least two, and most likely three
separate races or classes of race, and the relative position they hold to one another. We need further to
bear in mind the radical difference between the two,
that one is a savage, the other a cultivated people;
that the latter exhibits not one phase, but several phases
or stages of growth, and that while these have risen
and fallen away in succession, many of their results
are undoubtedly existing in the civilization of to-day;
the religious history of the latter race we may be able
to trace, but that of the former is a wellnigh hopeless
mass of inconsistencies.
Now the Philosophical period was a most important
one, and cannot be passed over in a study of Hinduiism.
Indeed, next to the Vedic, it is the most important, and
with reference to this era has no rival. As a student
of general history, aside from all questions of missionary life, I should be justified in studying it; as a student of India life, of course I must. I fully believe that
I am denying myself much gratification in the pursuit
of this theme by going to India. Were I to remain
here, I should expect to do far more in this and cognate
studies than I can possibly do at home [i. e. India
home]. I agree with you that the brunt of the work
for us is of a different sort. Still I flatter myself that
I may be able to bring to light some data for others'
investigation while I am in India, and what acquaintance I have now with these topics may prove of advantage in preventing me from throwing away time in
directions which would be valueless.




132            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
I have a notion that I shall be interested in gathering together customs and beliefs of the lower castes
whom we meet, to see if I can trace any systematic
belief which will serve to stand as an outline of faith
held previous to Arian immigration.  What do you
think?  As to philosophy, you know enough of me to
know that I am in no sort of danger of making or trying to make use of my knowledge of systems in meeting a Hinduf.  I hardly know enough to wield an
English or an Aristotelian syllogism, - to say nothing
of the Hindui Nyaya's five-membered conceit.  The
fact is patent, however, that five hours a day do I plod
my weary way through Sankya, Yoga, and Nyaya; not
weary way either, for I enjoy it. I am now running
through the six systems and giving a syllabus of each.
Next I am to study the historical connection of all, and
weave them into an essay in chronological order, stating
the occasion of their rise, progress, and present position.
I hope to get ready a couple of long essays for the
"Bibliotheca Sacra" before I leave. I have all the
material nearly that is to be had in English. You say
you have sent for Mullens's book. I have it. I have a
dimn idea that you have Ballantyne. Mullens as a philosopher is not worth a straw; but his book is worth
having, as it gives the best general compend of the different systems. He is much more full than Ballantyne
in stating the facts, and draws almost wholly from Ballantyne's little translations. Ballantyne makes the Nyaya philosophy his standpoint of logic in his duties as
preceptor of Hinduis. And we Westerners certainly
have more sympathy with Gotama than with any other
Hindu sage. In his conception of God he is nearer the
Christian than any of his fellows.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            133
A rich and rare book is out, - No. II. of Muir's
" Original Sanskrit Texts." His object is to convince
the Hindus that their fathers came from  beyond the
Indus and are connected with Persians, Greeks, &c.
The argument is no new one to us, but in his rigid discussion of it, he marshals a host of facts on the dialects
of North India, the course which the Arians took in
entering India, and their relation to their kindred and
to the aboriginal tribes. His first part meets the Hindui
on his own ground and shows from the contradictions
in his own books that caste is a modern invention; that
the Brahmans are not divine, and so forth. Two more
volumes are promised: one, historical proof of origin
of caste; the other, illustrations of earliest life and religion. Hurrah!
This evening I propose to visit the Public Library.
In the " Journal de Savants " is a review by M. Barthelemy St. Hilaire of Max Miiller's " History of
Sanskrit Literature."  St. Hilaire is a sort of general
Hindu scholar, who has distinguished himself by his
memoirs on the Sankya Philosophy, the very sight of
which is enough to make one vow never to be a philosopher, if so much paper is to be spent in his dissection.  But I want to see what the Frenchman has to
say upon MiAler. You know I presume that Miiller
and Monier Williams are rival candidates for the vacant
Boden Professorship. The contest will soon be decided,
and most likely in favor of Miiller.*  He surely is the
more learned man of the two. I have however a
high respect for Williams.  I have just bought and
begun his Sanskrit grammar. I want to get hold of
the grammar, not expecting to do any more. I like his
- It was so decided.




134            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
far better than the French grammar of Oppert which
Professor        suggested to me.  Oppert is too
brief and condensed: Williams does not presume upon
any previous familiarity.  He is fond also of tracing
evident analogies between Sanskrit and western languages.
Do you know what you are asking for when you request me to buy Bopp?  Have you ever seen it? if
not, you are an innocent child. The sight of its learning is to me appalling; if you have, I wonder at your
self-confidence at presuming to wish you had it now.
However I shall get it on the strength of your word,
and because I should have got it without that too, - as
a book of reference at some future day. I presume one
can with dainty fingers pick out a morsel here and there,
Jack-Horner-like. You speak of works on Comparative Philology in general. The best book undoubtedly,
of such a cast, is Miller's " Languages of the Seat of
War."  Have you it?  I forget.  Its comparison
of Turkish and Tamil is very striking and pleasing.
You speak of Bunsen.*  I have hesitated long about
that book.  I have read and reread it. Muller you
know  contributes the portion on the Turanian Researches.  That includes Tamil, but M. M. doesn't
know boo about Tamil. Professor        told me that
he would n't give a snap for the essay, but even he is
inclined to derive Dravidian languages from Sanskrit!
Yet he and any one could see that Miller's theorizing
was upon a very rickety foundation, and some of his
erroneous results Caldwell points out. What I think
the essay most valuable for is the history of researches
in this direction, and his original and valuable remarks
* Philosophy of Universal History.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            135
upon the Sanskrit portion of his theme. Perhaps for
this object the essay is worth having, but the book is
costly. The other essays in the volume (always excepting Brother Bunsen's vagaries) are valuable.  I
wish we could get the one volume of linguistics separate, and leave off the baseless applications to the Philosophy of History by the doughty chevalier.
The discoveries which he had begun to make for
himself in this field served to stimulate search and to
make him desirous of more thorough inquiry into many
questions which his work suggested. He looked with
a half-regret to the departure which was to bring to a
close this extended study; he felt that his scholarly instincts were growing keener, and that if permitted to
follow their lead he might achieve worthy results. It
was but a half-regret, nor would he have been easily
content, if circumstances had required him to remain
longer in America, even though the stay were to give
him unbounded opportunity of study. It was work of
another sort which lay nearer his heart, and to this he
looked with more ardent desire.
[TO A CLASSMATE IN GERMANY.]
BOSTON, once more, Feb. 4, 1861.
Your letter has long lain on my table, pressed down
by many another and sighing for relief. The time has
come at last,- the time of doing the last things, of
winding up affairs, of putting one's house in order. I
have kept you waiting purposely, determined to write
you when I knew somewhat certainly when I should
leave this semi-barbarous land for the professedly savage
country of my choice. Answering letters is my job for




136           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
a week to come and yours comes first, first in time and
first in worth. Let me thank you for it most heartily.
I enjoyed it hugely, and so has many another, D. included, and W. shall. How these names link together
the wide world! You toasting your mental limbs by
German hearths, G. W. cooling himself off by copious
draughts of Brahmanic philosophy, D. lazily drinking
in Chitty and Coke in Cambridge, and your penman
absorbed in saucepans, boxes, bedsteads, and all the appurtenances of tropical housekeeping..... Oh, how I should like to sit by you in your
snuggery, and have a wholesome chat over men and
things. I rarely have such nowadays; and to think
of sending you such a scribble as this. Well, I shall
soon, please God, be in my place in the breach and trying to do my part. I dread it of course, and the more,
as so novel to me. In my better hours I rejoice, and
I daily pray for a long life for me and mine. I love
India with all my heart, and long to do somewhat for
her regeneration..... I think often of you in Germany, and wish I might be with you, though I fear I
should desert Tholuck and Miller for Bopp, Weber,
Lassur, and Roth, and dive into philology and Indian
archaeology rather than theology and church history.
How delightful it is to study. I have begun Sanskrit,
and shall work hard at Tamil on shipboard.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            137
CHAPTER VIII.
ENTERPRISES — LAST MONTHS IN AMERICA.
[1859-1861.]
DURING the last year of the seminary course David
had occasionally preached, after the custom of theological students, and while at home awaiting his departure,
he took what opportunities offered for practice in this
labor. He did not regard sermonizing as of much importance in his case, since work abroad would admit so
little of the sort of preaching employed at home; the
half dozen sermons which he wrote are characterized
by the philosophical element, so frequent in students'
discourses, and pervaded with his spirit of moral earnestness; he added to the force of his sermons by his
impressive delivery, which borrowed little from the
rules of oratory, but was instinct with his personality,
tender, solemn, whole-hearted. One sermon received
unusual attention from him as embodying his views
respecting the missionary work, and containing the
grounds of his own confident belief that it was the
highest form of Christian activity. The character of
the sermon is indicated in the following letter: —
[TO REV. J. M. STURTEVANT, JR.]
FALMOUTH, MASS., Feb. 23, 1860..... I have just written up to the conclusion of a
missionary sermon, my first one. It is a missionary
sermon, but not exclusively a foreign missionary one.




138            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
Indeed I fancy that I have hit upon a way of presenting Christian duty, which is somewhat new to me
and seems also plausible and fair; my sermon would,
I am sure, suit you, at least as regards its catholic
spirit; it is not much more foreign than home. My
text is, -" As my Father hath sent me, even so send
I you," one which I long since chose. The one thing
which marks it is the position that all such divisions
of the field as Home and Foreign are really nothing
more than convenient geographical distinctions; that
the Scriptures and Christ recognize but one grand division, - "the world " and " not of the world "; that all
Christian work either is self-culture or aggressive enterprise, and that the latter aims at the whole field,
called in Scripture " the world," all which is not Christ's
by actual possession; so that all work which is aggressive is by its very idea foreign and essentially one,
whether labor for unconverted neighbors, western missions, or labor in heathen lands. The argument of the
sermon is, that there is no reason, either in Scripture
or common sense, why a man should cease his labor
at any given point in this one field, but on the other
hand everything points him to the duty of laboring in
all his work for the evangelization of the whole. I try
to show it by appealing to Christian instinct as corroborated by the idea of a Christian life, - self-sacrifice,and to History which shows that the church has prospered according as it has admitted this or not. What
do you think? I wish I could read it to you in number seventeen, Phillips Hall..... Do you remember Thompson's anniversary
address before the Porter Rhetorical Society?  You
have seen it though, I presume, in the last " Congrega



DAVID COIT SCUDDER.       139
tional Quarterly." He is called missionary to Persia,
which lie requested them not to mention. I might be
an advocate for Congregationalism if in the West, but
as you say you accept it because it is needed at the
West, so I imagine if you were to be in India you
might feel that some other form than pure Congregationalism would better fit into the present phase of
society. At least so I theorize; how I shall think
when I get there I don't know, but I believe that no
Procrustean bed should be received as the bed for all
Christians to repose upon. I did not agree with Thompson at the time, but for Persia I can believe it may
better suit, as more manliness and independence of
thought can there be found.
The chief advantage which he sought from preaching was the opportunity it afforded him of visiting new
places. Wherever he went he was known as one soon
to enter upon the foreign field, and he threw all the
weight of his personal presence and influence into the
enterprise of awaking new interest in the work of missions.  He always appreciated the value of personal
association, and knew that every one whom he interested in himself, he interested likewise, to various extent, in the cause which he represented. It is with
children that this personal association is most weighty,
and with them David employed it most.  Reference
has been made to his habit in the seminary of talking
to Sunday-schools and to juvenile missionary societies.
He began in a small way, carrying a few images of
Hindu gods and telling stories out of the sacred books
about them, connecting his talk with the effort which
the children were making to send the truth to the wor



140            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
shippers of these very idols. He repeated his stories
in different places, and as he gained in familiarity with
the work, he studied more carefully the structure of his
discourse. He had attained a confidence in addressing
children, and was now able to make experiments; what
had been a simple talk, suggested by the images, began
to assume the shape of a speech, studiously contrived
with reference to the working of a child's mind, was
altered and remodelled as new experience supplied him
with better forms. All this was for the simple and
general purpose of awaking a vivid interest among
children, and of providing them with a more correct
understanding of the object at which they were aiming.
This latter purpose soon showed him that the children were at a disadvantage from the want of some
specific end; when they gave their contributions it was
to objects too large for the grasp of their minds. He
felt this, and the result was a scheme for turning the
contributions of children into a special channel, - the
support of schools connected with missions. The Board
of Missions had taken up the matter with care, making
inquiry of those best qualified to advise, and David
eagerly entered the same field; he wrote for suggestions to missionaries and to Sunday-school officers, and
became absorbed in the subject which ever afterward,
as indeed it had previously, held a large place in his
mind. His share in the work consisted in addressing
schools wherever he could, inducing them to pledge
themselves each to a yearly subscription, adequate to the
support of a school in the Madura mission, in return
for which he promised a quarterly letter, having special
reference to the schools thus supported.  His plan also
embraced the occasional support of a native preacher




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            141
by some school desirous of making larger contributions. To maintain a school required a yearly outlay of
twenty-five dollars; to provide a pastor, one of eighty
dollars; in the latter case he promised a special letter.
In consequence of this plan he modified his address
to children, introducing considerable matter respecting
native schools in India, and after repeated delivery he
moulded his address into a form from which he found
no reason to deviate, excepting that he always introduced
it in a novel manner, catching his inspiration most happily from the occasion. Long familiarity with Hindui
life gained by research and by reading, by intercourse
with missionaries and by correspondence, made him perfectly at home upon the subject, so that the effect upon
his hearers could hardly have been different if he had
really been in India; so at least it seemed when he was
speaking, though doubtless had he ever returned to
America after a stay in India, he would have brought
a new element into his address; his manner was so
confident and his utterance so rapid and fervid that
many were astonished to find a " returned missionary"
so very young. I am sorry that no notes remain by
which the address which he finally came to deliver
could be reproduced, since I feel sure that even separate from the force which his personal presence gave to
it, there existed a real power in the admirable adaptation of its matter and language both to the comprehension of children and to the excitement of permanent interest. Still the moving force was in the person himself,
standing on the platform, ruddy with youth and glowing
with earnestness, which kindled as he went on, flushing
his cheek and making his voice to grow more eager and
impetuous. I think the impression left was of a most




142            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
happy sort; his words were free from any appeal to a
morbid horror or sympathy, always healthy and cheerful. There was a directness about them, an honesty
which children like, establishing at once a personal
friendship between him and them, as they would crowd
around him afterward to examine the palm-leaf book,
stylic knife, and Tamil Gospel of John which he used to
illustrate his speech; the idols he had given up.
The appreciable result of these efforts was the securing of forty schools, increased afterward to sixty, pledged
to maintain the same number of schools abroad, besides
the support of a native pastor. But the result in the
wide-spread interest which he created in himself and in
his work cannot be estimated. Often was lie touched
with the simple expressions of affectionate interest which
his words drew from children.  Like himself when a
child, little boys came forward and said they were
going to India. Wherever he went he left behind witnesses to his power in children who could not forget his
zeal, and whom le animated with a similar purpose.
It was not a mere momentary interest which he excited,
because his appeal was not one to the emotions alone;
he furnished children with plans of work and lasting
incentives, so that the natural result of his addresses
was active enterprise and not mere sympathetic interest. In the days when he was thus engaged instances
of this effect of his speaking were constantly coming to
notice, too simple perhaps to be recorded, but affording
the strongest evidence of his power. May it be that
years hence some will be found who shall remember his
personal presence and find in it an impulse to missionary labor, even as he ever kept in mind the few words
and more forcible image of the aged Doctor Scudder.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            143
In connection with this labor among the children
should be mentioned a package of children's tracts, -
"Tales about the Heathen," -published for him by
the Tract Society in Boston, containing several of the
stories which he used to weave into his address. They
afford an excellent illustration of his manner of treating
such subjects.  The following passage from a letter
shows another favorite project which he always hoped
to carry out: —[TO REV GEORGE T. WASHBURN.]
BOSTON, Nov. 23, 1860..... Now about your proposal of a history of each
mission. I like it. I thought of it awhile and almost
made up my mind to write a history of Bombay, Madura, and Ceylon Missions, but upon second thought,
I concluded that such a sketch, to be good for anything,
must be something more than bare, skeleton history,
and would necessarily include descriptions of places,
scenes, people, and customs; and that such a sketch
prepared by a stranger would be jejune and materially
defective.  I have accordingly dropped Bombay and
Ceylon from my plan, and have put it down in my
memorandum-book as something to be done in India, -
to prepare such a story of Madura. I know well that
my hands will be full of business, but I am so convinced
of the thorough need of such a work, I love the task
so much, and it is so comparatively facile work to me,
that I shall indulge the hope of being able to accomplish the design. Mr. Dulles's book certainly does not
cover the same ground, while it will give me aid.
I think there might be prepared a history of
missions which could be studied just as the Acts of the




144            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
Apostles is studied. No inspired man, to be sure, would
pen the narrative, the narrative itself would lack the
divine sanction in any special form, and lack the power
of the divine mind; yet the acts of our modern apostles are in a sense equally important with those of early
days. We should be familiar with them, and they ought
to be studied in the Sunday-schools.
It is hard to enumerate the manifold forms of his
unceasing activity. He was not only keenly alive himself, but he inspired all with whom he came into contact
with something of the same energy. His father's house
during those eighteen months was the scene of constant
excitement. David shared his plans so freely with the
family, that it might be said they spent their time in
hearing or in telling some new thing. He set others to
work, and indeed it was hard to stand idle when one
was present who worked so incessantly. From week
to week he was about his business, - preaching, planning, scheming to interest people in missions, holding
neighborhood meetings, talking to children, inquiring
into educational systems with reference to his future
labors, attending medical lectures, for he took a partial
course in Medicine though with no liking for it, reading, writing, sending long letters to correspondents and
letters to religious journals on missionary topics, on the
watch for everything likely to increase knowledge or
interest in missions, so that at the outbreak of the
Druses he prepared and delivered an admirable address
on the subject, and in the midst of his multiform labors,
finding time to explore the mystery of the six systems
of Hindu Philosophy, and to reduce to order his accumulated knowledge.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            145
But though busily occupied while thus detained in
America, his thoughts flew across the sea to the land
which he longed to reach. His very occupations constantly reminded him whither he was bound, and more
than once did he give way to despondency as the day
of his departure was still kept distant. His friends,
some of whom perhaps were leaving under his influence, sailed one after another to different parts of the
world; he entertained them at his home, - indeed,
scarcely was one sent on his way before another's approach was heralded; he helped them in their preparation and watched them from the wharf as they sailed
off on their errand, while he turned away reluctantly;
with a melancholy jest lie would liken himself to the
captain who saw all on board before he himself made
ready to follow, and so he gave vent often to his longing in impassioned words to brother missionaries who
had been blessed as he had not been.
[TO REV. GEORGE T. WASHBURN.]
ESSEX, CONN., Jan. 20, 1860.
So you are at last fairly staggering on India's coral
strand! How do things look?  Did you have a pleasing time on those Masullah boats? Are the natives
oily? Did they come out to you on their catamarans?
Were you wet? How does Madras look?  What kind
of a place is Popham's Broadway? Fairly ashore! Oh
for the fancy of a De Quincey, the pen of a Macaulay,
both of whom are dead, that I might indulge myself.
I can but say - fairly ashore! and such phrases as are
fit I must leave to others less in earnest, less interested.
For would n't I give a small sum, could I but be trudging by your side, gazing, like a raw Yankee, as I am, at
10




146            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
sights and sounds! Is it hot? I don't know what to
write. What sort of a mood are you in and how shall I
suit it? You must let me into all the changes of feeling possible, so that I shall know how to feel one of
these days, because you see if I don't have some rule
to go by, I fear I shall get unmanageable. George, I
was walking out this morning, and my feelings, my
longings for a sight and a touch of India were such as
could find comfort only in outspoken prayer to God.
I lay upon the rocks and thought of you - away off on
the blue sea — and my whole being leaped —impatient.
I prayed aloud to God that he would not detain me
long in this foreign land..... And you are really
there! Do you feel the crowds around you? Are you
impressed with the fact of your being in a land whose
history is so dark? that these swarthy ones love not
God? or do they pass, come and go, with no more impression upon you than the throngs in our cities? I
can't bring myself to feel that this letter is to be read
by one greedy for news rather than sentiment.
[TO THE SAME.]
BOSTON, April 2, 1860.
And so I am to imagine you just now, where?
that big blot which so disfigures the page expresses my
ideas on the subject, although I presume you are by
this beating up to Madras. I have a chart of Madras,
so that Mr. Hunt will not need to come down to escort
me to his house. I can find Popham's Broadway without him. Do they have any ice-cream saloons? on
Mount Road?  Even if you could not get a veritable
piece of ice, why would it not be a good plan to promenade up and down the Ice-House Road and snuff the




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            147
fancied breezes? The very name of the road has something refreshing, like the clinking of ice against the
pitcher on a hot day.
I preached in Nantucket a few Sundays since
and had a pleasant visit. I went over to the south
shore, where there was nothing but water between me
and the other side, and scratched my name in Tamil on
the sand and thought of you in India..... I have
bought a set of the Asiatic Researches which I hope to
place in the Madura library. I find myself in danger
of being much absorbed in these pursuits. Were I to
remain here, I should delight in nothing more than in
such study; but as it is, I am weary of this and feel the
need for spiritual sake of shutting up my books and
shipping for Home as soon as possible. I feel it impossible to maintain a live Christian character, when one
is not engaged in practical work for God.... How
did you bear your voyage? What a blessed thing your
first letter will be, but how much more the next shake
of your hand.  Blessed day! pray that it may come
soon. With love to all I know, to all I don't know,
to Dindigal Rock, to Madura Walls, and to the first
glossy Hindfu that you see, and wishing I were never
to write you from America again, I actually am
D. C. S.
In the autumn of 1860, when he could look more
definitely to an early departure, he took a journey to
the West, going as far as to cross the Missouri River
at St. Joseph's to say he had stood on Kanzas soil, and
returning home by St. Louis, Louisville, Mammoth
Cave, Cincinnati, and New  York.  The following
extracts are from a series of letters produced by the
journey out: —




148            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
NIAGARA FALLS, Oct. 11, 1860.
I have seen it! I am now ready to depart home.  I
have seen It, and what else is worth looking at? As I
write, weary from constant walking, the roar of the
cataract is ever present, like the rolling of ocean-surf,
only less inconstant. Many travellers aver that at first
sight they are disappointed. Whether from being on
my guard against such an undesirable impression or
not, the contrary was the case with me; one thing is
certain, that my first feeling was of higher grade than
my previous imagination, and the impression deepened
as I looked and looked.
Upon first seeing the tower which overlooks a portion
of the Fall, I had the same feeling that I had many
years since when first looking upon Connecticut River
from  Mount Holyoke.  How much it looks like the
picture! So thought I this morning. I think the familiarity, which we derive from pictures, with the main
features of the scene is rather a disadvantage. The
scene is not altogether new, and the littleness of the
impression obtained from pictures tends to cramp the
magnitude of the actual thing. One thing my previous
conception was at fault in: I had supposed Goat Island
to be a little spot of perhaps half an acre in extent.
Instead of that it is nearly a mile in circumference, and
separates the whole Fall into the two main divisions,
the American and the Horse Shoe Falls.
However true a picture of the Falls may be in outline and general color, the best picture fails and must
fail in at all adequately representing the thing itself.
No pencil can paint the ceaseless crushing, deafening
roar of the cataract, the sweeping spray rushing wildly
up from the seething caldron below, or the immense




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            149
volume of water falling or pouring over the rock, breaking in its descent into myriads of drops of water glittering in the sunlight. No picture can give you, for
one thing, the Horse Shoe Falls embosoming in its
arms a great gulf, which you can't help imagining
bottomless and Tartaric.
I have wandered all about and seen everything to be
seen and now can't say what view I like best. You
cannot take your eyes off whatever point may chance
to catch them.  The first thing of special interest
which attracted me was the Cave of the Winds, hollowed out of the precipitous cliff over which a portion
of the sheet falls. You stand at the base of the Fall
and the entrance of the cave, and look and look till
your legs tire, for your eyes never can. I seemed to
be in a kind of dream. The tremendous sheet of water
came thundering down by my feet, crashing on to the
rocks, and as I stood it seemed to grow louder and
louder and louder, till it fairly seemed as if the whole
creation was coming over that cliff..... But I am
foolish in attempting to give any sort of idea of this
wonder.
CHICAGO, Oct. 16.
I think I wrote you last from Niagara, after
having taken my first look. Next morning I took a
fresh gaze before breakfast and after, and tried to look
so hard that four months' wetting of the salt sea and
twelve years of blazing sun might not obliterate the
impression.... I made my way to the cars, which
bore me slowly over the fearful Suspension Bridge.
A  custom-house officer amused a crowd'by
digging into a negro's box for suspected contraband




150           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
goods, and hauling out nothing but Newcomb's Question-Books and iron kettles! We finally got under way,
and after a dreary ride through a desolate country,
found ourselves at Detroit. Three Douglas men by
me had quite a discussion, and all along supposed me
to be one of their clique.  I kept quite mum, until
one man came out with the notion that the blackness
of our negro brother was the curse of God upon Ham!
upon which your clerical correspondent thought the
credit of his cloth impeached, fell in, and of course
annihilated his adversary. To Chicago Saturday.
COMO, ILL., Oct. 18.... I'm having a capital time. A. is a student
of the true stamp; can quote Schelling, Lessing, Hegel,
and all the German fry; will discuss Theology, Metaphysics, Religion, or Hinduism with me to my heart's
content. So you can easily understand that I am up
to my head in bliss, to find any one who does n't brand
me as a fool for looking up a little harmless Orientalism, and is willing to draw me out on the heights and
depths of blessed Brahmanism.  This is my joy and
delight, and A. has been reading Hegel and Schelling
on India to me, while I have taken the liberty to question some of their statements, and find some judicious
suggestions in their weighty thoughts; so we have been
talking nothing else ever since I came here.
CAMERON, ILL., Oct. 20.
It is seven o'clock A. M., and I am standing at the
desk in the store of C. Waste, Esq., who is advertised
to'sell Sanative Pills and Bibles. In Cameron there
may be at the outside fifty dwelling-houses and a new




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            151
Campbellite church. I have been in Cameron about
an hour before any Cameronite has stirred, having been
ejected from the cars in company with another traveller. Ah! tell it not in Myrtle Street. Instead of wasting Mr. Waste's writing materials, I should about this
time be steaming away toward Quincy. Allow me then
to present a scientific statement of the causes which
have produced the present mishap, - which tale must
condemn me.
If my recollection serves me right, I left Como at
nine o'clock last night, - though night and day are
sadly commingled in my head. I rode fifteen miles to
Dixon, on the Illinois Central Road. I had then two
interesting and delightful hours, from ten to twelve P. M.,
in the hospitable Wachusa House of that inland city.
My companions resorted for relief to billiards, oysters,
and hotter drinks; I settled myself in a chair, munched
a huge apple, and gave myself up to concocting articles
of faith and meditating upon the grounds of moral obligation. At 12.13 I again entered the cars, which in
another hour brought me to Mendota, on the Chicago
and Quincy Road. There I rechanged my seat at 1.30
A. M., entered a sleeping-car, got a berth, pulled off my
boots, began to wind up my watch, and thanking my
stars that good comfort was in store for me, was upon
the point of committing myself to the graces of the
King of Nod, when the steward called for my ticket,
and then calmly informed me that I was in the wrong
train. Imagine my feelings and the rapidity with which
boots and hat went on, and I went off just in time to
get into the right train. Fairly in and safe I clambered
up into a top berth, and endeavored to make myself
indulge the fond feeling that I was abed. I was hardly




152           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
conscious of having slept at all when the steward called
the sleepers up, announcing Galesburg, a change of
cars, and time for breakfast. So I stretched, rubbed
my eyes, found it was about five o'clock, and stumbled
into the breakfast-room. I swallowed a beefsteak, when,
"Cars ready! "  "Where?" said I. "' Burlington
Road? "  "Yes." "' There!"  So in I went, choking
with corn-cake. Settled at last, thought I; but alas for
human hopes! the remorseless conductor came round,
took my ticket, read " Galesburg to Quincy." "You're
wrong! " said he. The next station was Cameron,Cameron, Ill., - and ill- luck prevailing, here am I.
Moreover, and besides to-day is Saturday, the only
other train leaves Galesburg so as to reach Quincy at
ten P. M. Hannibal is twenty miles down the river,
and the only boat from Quincy leaves at ten A. M., on
the arrival of the morning train, which I should now
be in, and does not leave Sunday morning. Am I not
dished? most positively and effectually dished? One
only expedient remains, and that I am resolved to try.
It is to swim. It is only twenty miles. The Hellespont has been crossed, and why may not the Father of'
Waters be swam down? I propose to mount a snag and
go swaying down, arriving in time to preach, which I
am engaged to do. Professor Hopkins gave me as his
sentiment in my college-book, -" Some resign themselves but with some exceptions." I never saw the
special significance of the words nor their application
to me. Now I understand and receive them as words
peculiarly appropriate to my present forlorn lot.
MACOMB, 4 P. M.
In confusion worse confounded I begin to write this.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           153
A political mass-meeting is going on, with all its attendants of rum, show, and sin. Macomb is on the way
to Quincy, and hearing that Tom Corwin was to speak
I concluded to hear him and see a unique phase of
Western life. I am all tired out with standing full two
hours, and rest myself by opening your letter, which
cannot go before Monday, and adding to it. After
vainly trying to find some rest in a deserted tavern at
Cameron, I wrote to you, and then went out to view
the country. The only visible eminence was a Virginia rail-fence. So I made for that and mounted it.
From it I could see miles and miles of dead level
prairie, cultivated with corn. I rode afterward along
five or six miles of one continuous cornfield. On the
fence, and away from anybody, I essayed to try my
lungs. I succeeded. I rehearsed my missionary sermon at the top of my voice, and just as I was in the
midst of one of my most stirring passages, a man appeared coming across the prairie, riding on a mule.
He came up to me and accosted me with "What's
up? What's up?" I informed him that I was up, on a
fence. He said he thought I was sick, and rode off.
Cameron, I take it, was slightly disturbed; but what
care I? my neckcloth was not white.
I find that my mistake has put me into a tight
place. I shall reach Quincy at ten P. M. Possibly a
chance boat may go down during the night, and I may
be summoned out of bed to board it. Possibly I may
persuade some one to drive me down to Hannibal in
the night. I find too that a boat goes on Sunday at
11.30. Now what shall I do? My conscience is not
so clear that I at once decide not to take the Sunday
boat or get some one to drive me down Sunday morn



154           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
ing. I am expected to preach and talk to the children.
Personally I should have no hesitation in going on Sunday under the circumstances, but what effect will my
talks have upon persons who may know the facts and
not reason as I do?.... I think I shall probably be
at Hannibal to-morrow by some way, right or wrong! I
forgot to tell you how I made my mistake, and that I
ought to do, for honor's sake, you know. The road
from Chicago is called the Chicago, Burlington, and
Quincy Railroad.  But it forks at Galesburg, having two termini, one at Burlington and the other at
Quincy. I had not so understood it, and in my five
o'clock state hardly had my wits about me, and accordingly when pointed to the Burlington cars thought myself all right, - but it was all, all wrong, as my present
state beareth witness.
ST. JOSEPH, MISSOURI, Oct. 23.
Here I am on the muddy Missouri, writing with none
to molest, on slave-soil, but with suffering Kanzas in
full view..... I must for your sake take up the
thread of my chronicle where last broken off, and that
I believe was in the interesting town of Macomb, where
the din of a Western Republican meeting was thundering in my ears. Well, I managed at last to escape
from the Wide-awakes, who gathered in great numbers
to escort me to the train (Tom Corwin was also aboard)
at about seven P. M. We arrived at Quincy at ten, and
I gained my first peep at the Father of Waters by
moonlight..... The keeper of the hotel promised to
wake me if a night boat, down, chanced along, but
none came, or rather I was not waked up. Sunday
morning came. I rose early and at once ferreted out a




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           155
livery-stable and woke the keeper with the question of
how much he would charge to take me to Hannibal,
twenty-one miles. After some chaffing we struck a
bargain, and I told him to hurry round to the hotel; so
by seven A. M. we were off for Hannibal, - and Sunday
morning. What do you think? It was my first experience of the thing, and I by no means felt at ease.
The noon boat down would not reach Hannibal until
afternoon. I did not know how much S. might be depending upon me, and the only real doubt was as to
the keeping of the livery-man at work.  Concluding
that I would strike hands with conscience by agreeing
to preach to the man on the way down, I decided to
go. If it had been ally other day I should have enjoyed the drive hugely. I could easily have fancied
myself in the far South. The road took us down the
river, but the river itself we left some four miles away.
A broad belt of meadow, skirted on the river side by a
timber-growth, lay on our right, and quite a high bluff
just at our left, sometimes wooded, sometimes cultivated, and delighting one with its graceful curves and
green slopes. As for houses and inhabitants we saw but
few, and the fewer the more pleasing was the prospect.
We met quite a number of folk riding, apparently to
meeting, but where the meeting-house was I couldn't
divine. Once in a while some urchin would come out
of the woods on one side and cross over on his bony
horse to the opposite thicket, and again a scowling man
with a savage-looking rifle would make his appearance.
We passed an opening where an emigrant train was
halting, perhaps for the day. It was a rough-looking
set, and rather threw dust upon the picture of such life
that I used to draw when a boy. We finally reached




156           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
the ferry as the bells were ringing for church in Hannibal on the other side. The boat was on the other
side, too, and I had to wait some time before it crossed,
and then had to pacify the man for being the only one
wishing to cross by paying double ferriage. Arrived
in Missouri, my first thought was, I am on slaveground. I had nothing incendiary with me, however,
so I pushed boldly up the street and entered the Planters' House.
I deposited my bundle, brushed off the dust, and inquired at once for the new Congregational church. I
found it at the other end of the city, and entered just
as S. was giving out notices with no reference to me.
He saw me just as he was reading his text, and though
rather disconcerted, went on with his sermon. It was
as I supposed. He had been depending upon me, and
was giving for the morning an old sermon, hastily
dressed up. I sent a card to him offering to preach
and talk, and at the close of service he announced that
I would address the Sunday-school at noon, which I
did, and also preached in the evening.
In the morning S. proposed that I should take a trip
to Kanzas, offering me a free pass there and back. So
you see I thought it too good an offer to let go unused,
and accepted it. S. could not come with me, but I
came, and here is thy servant in a tip-top house, as
much at home as if in New York. I am content. I
have at last reached the goal, — I am at the West.
My room looks out upon the Missouri as I saw dimly
last night. So I left my blinds and windows open for
an early look this morning. When I awoke I rubbed
my eyes, and raising myself in bed looked out. The
very first thing that greeted my expectant vision was




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            157
an enormous sign right before me, on which was painted
in huge letters - THE WEST. It needs no sign however to prove to me that I am West. A walk soon
does that. Mules parade the streets. Queer-looking
covered wagons are seen. Mail-bags turn out of the
post-office, marked Denver City, and so on.  Pike's
Peak stores and Pike's Peak hotels stare at one at
every turn. Every other man you meet, almost, has
a gun in his hands, and a four-niule mail-wagon passes
you with ominous-looking muskets peering out from
beneath the seats.  The city itself is an admirable
example of a Western city. You can see it grow.
While on his return he heard of the death in Persia
of the Rev. Amherst L. Thompson, who had been a
classmate at Andover, a member of the Brethren, and
from his congeniality of temperament a warm friend of
David. There was so much in common between these
two, - so much of the same fire and eager expectation,
- that the sudden death of the missionary just entered
on his work sounded like a clear bell in the atmosphere
of David's life. He listened and was impressed as never
before. There are few witnesses to the struggle which
then passed through his mind, - only a few written
words, a Sabbath of silent meditation in New York
when no preacher drew him forth from the solitude of
his room, for Thompson's death was speaking, - but
certain it is that thereafter he was conscious of other,
deeper feeling respecting his work than the eager, almost boyish enthusiasm which hitherto had possessed
him. At his conversion he had once and for all given
himself up to the missionary work; years afterward he
could write   "Since that time I have never made




158           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
any formal committal of myself to the work." Now he
did consecrate himself with a holier purpose to a service which he was willing never to perform if God
should so require of him. As one who once seeing
Death now sees Life newly revealed to him, so David
from this moment kept steadfastly before him the revelation; the voice which spoke through Thompson's
death never grew faint.
[TO REV. BENJAMIN LABAREE, JR.]
BOSTON, NOV. 10, 1860.
Delay in answering your two last letters seems unpardonable, but I have been full of business, having just
returned from the West. I was away four weeks, and
stopped at Cincinnati on my way back. Whilst there
I bought a copy of " The World."  In it was Washburn's Turkey letter, and at the close a brief sentence
weightier than all the rest to me. I was all alone, and
in a state to have the sad news weigh upon me in its
full power. Arriving at New York a few hours later,
I found your letters awaiting me at H.'s room. I hardly
knew what to think. My first feeling was an indefinable one of insecurity, as if I myself were standing in
some perilous position, in momentary danger of death.
You know my own circle of friends has seldom been
broken in upon, and I think this bereavement has come
nearer to me than any previous one. Our little company all seem like brothers more than " Brethren," and
Thompson was a near brother. I thought of our classmeeting and its final scene: Thompson leading us, and
speaking of his prospects as cheerfully and hopefully as
any one of us.... So even in the first moments of
dismay, I felt that his death was proving a blessing to




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.,          159
me in opening my eyes. He with his firm health, his
high aspirations, his full plans was not proof against the
Destroyer, and was I? I found that I had been looking to the future with unwarranted presumption; that I
had not so much lived in the spirit of the prayer —
" Take me not away in the midst of my days," as taken
it for granted that these past days of preparation, this
clear sailing toward my goal, were surety to me that I
could presume confidently upon at least a few years'
lease of life. My eyes were opened, and though I rode
homeward saddened by the event, yet I could not but
feel thankful that I was led by it to look upon life in a
more truthful aspect.
The day of sailing was at length set for the 11th of
March, 1861, and the bustle of immediate preparation
begaon. It was well for all that so much was required
to be done. David was busier than ever, attending to
a thousand things, and still working perseveringly at
Sankya and Yoga; but all his business could not keep
his thoughts off the day so near at hand. It has been
shown how eagerly he looked forward to this day, how
impatient he was of the repeated delays, and how hard
he found it to be content to remain at home. The one
purpose of his life impelled him and there was little
looking back; forward he always had looked by the
very cast of his nature.  It was all changed now.
The deep home affection which had found abundant
expression was intensified by the coming separation;
it was India still to which he was going, but - it was
home that he was leaving. These things cannot be
written, perhaps his own words are too sacred to be
here set forth; but I am writing of one who left home,




160           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
brothers, sister, father and mother for the sake of
Christ, and the fulness of the sacrifice can only be
shown by what it cost him to make it. To Mr. Labaree he writes:
"I write you once more from these shores, that I
may call to mind a dear old acquaintance and remember
that Persia has a special hold upon my love. A long,
long time it seems since I bade you good-bye, but at
last my turn has come. Leaving home is not a fancy,
but a living fact which strikes me hard. I did n't know
I loved my home so much. But He giveth me grace.
To-night I bid good-bye to. So they go, one by
one. How full these days; how one's heart sinks. But
let us put a cheerful courage on and look up. Well, I
am as near to you in India as here, -and as near
heaven. Good-bye, Ben, and good-bye to the others
with you. When I pray for you I still unconsciously
whisper Thompson's name. He needs not our prayers.
Pray for me."
To Mr. Washburn he writes: -" I am off. We expect to sail on Monday next. I write only to hail you,
though I must say I am not in a hailing mood.....
But I must go. Duty, work, - Christ calls me hence
and I must obey. But I must obey, not go because I
have made up my mind. These sacrifices I must make
for Christ. I think I wish to. I cannot write more
now. I am to leave for India, dear India. I may not
live long there,- indeed I cannot drive away the feeling that I shall not, but let me be faithful while I live.
And you will meet me and welcome me? Do, - and
help me to be faithful on the ship - that I may be in
India. And I will always love you. Love to the Brethren, my brethren, now at last, -an unworthy one am
I, your old friend David."




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            161
He was ordained as a missionary on Monday, February 25th, in the church in which he was educated; his
pastor, Rev. Dr. Nehemiah Adams, preached the sermon. Rev. Edward Webb, of the Madura Mission,
gave the charge, and his brother, Rev. Evarts Scudder,
gave him the Right Hand of Fellowship; the other
parts in the ordination were taken by Rev. Drs. Fisk,
of Newburyport, Thompson, of Roxbury, and Hooker,
of Boston. On the Wednesday following he was married to Miss Harriet L. Dutton, daughter of George
D. Dutton, Esq., of Boston, who was associated as
deacon in Union Church with David's father. Monday, March 11th, was the day appointed for the company to sail, and the following extract from a letter
written to an absent member of the family presents the
scene of the embarkation:
"The people began to come by nine o'clock, and
every one must see the state-room. There was a terrible jam, and persons would stand and stand in the
passage-ways. The day was perfect, a good westerly
breeze, bright sky, and fleecy clouds, a little bit cool, so
that the religious exercises were held in the cabin instead of on the deck.  Those outside joined in the
singing, but were half a line behind the others at one
time. After it was through the missionaries stood outside and bade all good-bye. Father was off in the forecastle talking with the sailors, and knew nothing of the
persons leaving the ship, and was one of the last to go.
David had to go ashore once or twice to bid some one
good-bye who in the hurry had passed him by, and
there was in general some little hurry. The exercises
were at ten, and the tug started after eleven. The end
of Devens's Wharf and the whole sidewalk of the- bridge
11




162           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
were packed with persons, though many had gone away
unable to wait so long; they waved their handkerchiefs
till the very last, a mass of moving white, and sang'Coronation' as the vessel started fairly from the bridge.
It sounded most beautifully on the ship. J. said that
they started very loudly, but that as they went on singing and the faces began to become undistinguishable,
one voice after another dropped away uncontrollable.
We rounded the point at the north end of the city, and
gave our handkerchiefs a last wave, till David said' There, they are gone out of sight,' and I turned and
saw the big tears stand on David's eager, joyful face.
".... ~We who were with them went out to the
outer light; they told us it was time to get into the tug,
and put a ladder down the side for us to get in by. It
was pretty hard work, for the little tug was pitching
and rolling at a fearful rate. Dave had gone down
into the cabin and I had to rush around in a great
hurry. I bade him good-bye and hurried down the
ladder, - pretty difficult work, for it was grinding on
the side of the ship to the danger of crushing fingers
and toes in our descent. It was well we hurried, for
scarcely were we all aboard than one of the hawsers
parted with a snap. We got on top of the deck of the
tug and gave them three hearty cheers, which they returned lustily, but we soon found that we had not yet
parted company, but were putting to sea with them,
dragging them after us by a long rope; after two or
three miles, the rope was heaved overboard and we gave
them six glorious cheers which they again returned,
David's clear voice ringing above them all: there stood
Dave, as I last saw him, waving hat and handkerchief,
which we returned as we could with our only free hand.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            163
Just at the end of hailing-distance I shouted,'Goodbye, Dave,' — up went the sails, away they sped, a noble-looking sight. We kept our handkerchiefs going
as long as we could see them, not knowing how long
they might distinguish us with their marine glass, but
as we were going against a strong wind, it was pretty
cold, and so we held our handkerchiefs between our
teeth and buried our hands in our pockets. So we
stayed till half-past two, when she was obscured by the
horizon."
So the ship sailed away; the crowd that watched it
and sent up prayers for its safe passage separated; the
two families who had been bereft in the sailing of the
ship turned homeward, the father of the young missionary to record in his brief diary -" Thus have we
parted with our beloved son and his wife, after contemplating it for many years; he is followed by the prayers
and good wishes of numerous friends, and we trust the
sacrifice we make in thus parting with him is well-pleasing to Jesus Christ, the great Head of the Church, our
Saviour and Friend."




164           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
CHAPTER IX.
THE VOYAGE AND THE LANDING.
[11 MARCH-26 JUNE, 1861.]
THE company on the "National Eagle," Captain
George Matthews, consisted, besides my brother and his
wife, of the captain's wife and young son; Rev. Edward
Webb, Mrs Webb, child, and infant, returning to the
Madura Mission; Rev. John Scudder and wife, on their
way to join the Arcot Mission; Mr. Gould, an invalid
gentleman of Boston, in quest of health; and the wife
of an Indian civil officer, returning to her husband,
whom she had been compelled to leave in the revolt of
1857. There was scarcely a drawback to the pleasure
of the voyage; sometimes it was tediously slow, and it
was remarked that where they expected trade-winds
they had calms, and steady winds where they did not
look for them. The passage was a little longer than
the average, one hundred and seven days from Devens's
Wharf to Madras, but it was a welcome interval, bringing rest from continued labor and preparation for coming scenes. How the days were passed will be learned
from the following letter: —
[TO REV. J. M. STURTEVANT, JR.].....One day here is like another. Let me give
you a specimen brick. At 5.30, I am awaked by the
slushing of water upon the deck overhead, which is
washed every day; descend from my shelf, don my




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            165
garments, rush out and souse into the big salt water
tub.  At 6, gaze at the gorgeous sunrise, -  never
equalled even your way, - and read till prayers at 8.30.
Prayers in the cabin, when all passengers attend, conducted by us three in turn. Breakfast, always ending
with the hominy or mush, and always. accompanied by
the onion-hash. 9-10, Tamil, when ladies appear and
study; I go into Comparative Grammar. 12, men
have dinner; in hot weather cool ice-water is drawn
from the tank and we refresh ourselves. 12-2, I write,
and the ladies recite to Mr. Webb. At two we dine,
recite from three to four, and I read aloud to H. till
half-past five. Till six, bean-bags, exercise and sunset.
Supper and prayers, then moonrise and chat on deck,
and to bed.
Sunday alone is different. At half-past ten the ensign is wrapped about a low ventilator on the poopdeck, which serves for a pulpit, seats are brought, and
the watch above ordered aft for service. The crew is
divided into two watches of four hours each, day and
night, and at ten and a half the watch from four o'clock
to eight has turned in. One of us preaches, taking
turns, and I tell you it is not an unpleasing sight to
see a company sitting thus under a clear sky about
you, singing praises, listening to God's word, and praying to Him. The crew are quite attentive: they are
mostly foreigners, Swedes, Danes, Dutch, Prussians,
Italian, German, English, and Nova-Scotian. I brought
with me enough Bibles for all, and all are eager to
learn English. A few Sundays out, when over sea-sickness, I made my first attempt at reaching them. I saw
a number reading and went forward; found them reading the Bible, and talked with them about their coun



166           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
try, &c., helped them read, and finally proposed that
after dinner we should have a Bible-class. They said
yes, and so with some trepidation, when dinner was
over, I visited the forecastle. Soon after entering, one
man remarked that he came from hell last; true, doubtless, but I told him it was a better place to come from
than to go to, and as the others did not countenance
him he kept still. We read in John about an hour.
The next Sunday I attempted the same, but found only
one there and sat down with two or three outside, and
read. So I have done every Sunday since, thinking it
hardly worth the while to attempt a formal class where
so few could understand me. I enjoy reading with
them  and have better chances for talk..... John
Scudder has a Bible-class with the boys and two mates,
who bunk separately forward. One of these I had a
long chat with one night on the lookout. But it seems
almost impossible to get into these foreigners, so wrapped
up are they in the educational trammels of a State religion.
"Yesterday," he writes in his journal, "I read a
couple of hours, one with the carpenter, a Swede, who
seems to have taken a liking to me, and calls me Master
David, just like Mr. Bookland of old. I like him for
his simplicity and earnestness, and good shelves too,he has just put me up a shelf over the foot of my berth.
The other hour I read with IHans Peter Andersen,
or Peter as he is known. He is a sail-maker, and a
quite superior fellow, a Dane. Both of these I had
Testaments for. I spend pretty much all of Sunday
among the men forward, and like it; they are a clever
set."




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            167
Later in the voyage he adds, "One thing presses
upon me as we go on: two weeks may close our voyage, and for aught I know, no one on board is the better for our presence, certainly none has yet changed
the purpose of his heart.  This ought not to be, it
seems to me, and I chide myself. Last night I had a
pleasant conversation with.., and my first upon
personal religion. My feeling afterward was - why
did I not begin earlier? Is this to be the way through
life, a neglect of duty until the startling view of the
next world wakes me up to effort for my fellow-men
now? I am too much inclined to preface direct Christian work by a host of preliminaries, instead of marching straight to the mark and doing at once that which
I am called to do."
So even a life admits of little excitement beyond the
speaking of a ship or the sight of a whale, but the
company was large enough to admit of variety in society, and the days went by evenly and full of simple enjoyment. There was a deal of pleasurable occupation
also in watching the varied moods of the sea. David
made friends with all, frolicked with the captain's boy,
and kept the interest of the crew throughout, and often
too he turned away from the present company to the
home friends whom he had left, journalizing for their
benefit, hoarding up the scanty bits of ship news and
holding more familiar intercourse with separate friends.
His father had begun his correspondence already with
a long and minute account of his life, written for David's entertainment and intended as a pleasant surprise.
"How much we enjoyed father's long letter," he writes.
"But it is too good a joke not to tell, how well he was




168           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
blinded about my supreme unconsciousness as to any
such thing being done. Did n't I believe that father
would write it when I asked him, and did n't I think
something was in the wind when I saw him writing so
industriously at the back-parlor window, day after day?
Did n't mother cough to father when certain loose
sheets were lying about on the centre-table, and was I
not very good never to notice that mysterious bundle
shuffled so adroitly into the box in the dining-room?
And did n't I wonder who on earth it could be who had
written what would be worth more than all the rest
together, as mother averred? "
[TO HIS SISTER.]
I wish you could board us one of these bright moonlight nights and see how delightful everything appears.
Just sit down in the stern of the ship and look down
into the foaming waters, as we rush along, ten knots an
hour, - and off into the wake of the moon dancing up
and down, and to the sails all set and glistening in the
bright beams. Such nights are the cream of our enjoyment.... We are fast passing out of our last
cool weather, - are now off Madagascar with its cruel
queen and Christian king. But oh, could you see these
tremendous swells! When the ship is going right before the wind and the wind blowing just as the swell,
then you have it! You can hardly believe that the
huge swell will not walk right over you; and then,
when on the crest I can compare it to nothing so well
as to the scene from West Mountain, Williamstown,
looking down on to a sea of lesser hills, stretching on as
far as the eye can reach, - and so up and down, the
birds sailing about you, gigantic albatrosses sweeping




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            169
about in graceful awkwardness, and the frisky Mother
Carey chickens tripping lightly about from wave to
wave, daintily touching their toes on the water, or tipping now one wing and now another. Oh! we never
tire of looking.
The quiet period, after the bustle of preparation and
the eager expectation of years, was sure to bring many
thoughts of his future work, many strong recollections
of what he had parted from; indeed, so painful was
much of this recollection that he would not suffer himself to give way to it nor to speak with the freedom
which his longing for expression prompted.  Some
signs of what he felt, looking behind and before, are
shown in individual letters. Thus in his letter to Mr.
Sturtevant he writes further: -'-....  I have just re-read your letter of March 2,
which reached me in time. You say that it will be but
a few days before we all reach home. I say Amen.
Do you know that since leaving home I have felt as
never before that the true home is after this life, and
seem  to feel that this separation is but momentary?
Indeed I have suffered more in parting with friends
than I anticipated, and I humbly hope that I am reaching some of the missionary blessings. I am beginning,
I think, now that India draws nigh, to see my needs.
I long sometimes to do a good work for Christ, but all
my reading and conversation lead me to see that the
self must be dropped from sight, the real aim of the
worker kept full in view, and I be willing to meet the
severest want, not as a disappointment, but as another
step in the appointed course which, as unforeseen, shall
offer fresh food for study."




170            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
To a brother also he writes: -" It is a sore, sore
trial to be away from home, I tell you, and what is
worse, to feel that there is no recal. How privileged
are they who are called of God to labor where they
may see the living faces and hear the tones of voice of
those they love. But I believe a dearer joy is reserved
for us, when the work against sin shall be finished, and
the reunion above be effected.  I am beginning to
believe in heaven as a fact, ever before us to cheer.
I seldom thus far in life have longed to be there,since leaving home I have."
[TO REV. S. B. TREAT.]
A sea-voyage is a good place for sober thinking. How
often, in looking out upon this sea and these changing
heavens, have my thoughts wandered over the past and
peered into the future. This is a good place to form
resolves in, over a fresh study of God's word.  Most
heartily I thank God for this opportunity that I do not
plunge thoughtlessly into the work.  Paul's stay in
Arabia -may it not have been of great value to him
in his after-course? I have been led especially to study
Paul's epistles during the last month, and have been
stirred up as never before. What am I going to India
for? How am I to live there? I firmly believe that
for me the isolation from Christian society will, by
God's help, prove of real worth to my religious character. I experienced a deal of spurious religious exhilaration, and did much that looked like active work
for Christ in America. Now, I feel that the true test
of my Christian spirit is to come in India.  It is comparatively an easy thing to go about the country and
talk fervently on missions, gaining the credit of a heart




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            171
fully in the work; but how will it be, when the voice
of praise will be but dimly heard and dark night be all
about me? Paul answers, and I can see in a measure
what the true missionary spirit is, even though it has
not yet possessed me, - " I glory in my infirmities that
the power of Christ may rest on me." I wonder at
his willingness to abnegate, disregard self. It must to
the world appear to border upon pusillanimity. "I will
very gladly spend and be spent for you, though the
more abundantly I love you the less I be loved." I
can see the Christian heroism of the man, but I look
on such a spirit as almost unapproachable. I am sure
that I could not say that now.  Still I believe that I
long to be able to say as truly that I care not for self,
and take pleasure in infirmities. Paul could not have
reached that height at one step, but only by constant
struggle. I foresee many positions where I shall be
called to sink private preferences at others' wish, and
where I should be guilty did I not do it. But it will
come hard.  And then to preach the word night and
day with tears to an unsympathizing, sneering crowd;
-where is my sufficiency? I believe I see it in this
-let me be fully possessed with a sense of the wonderful depth and fulness of power in the message of
life. Here was Paul's stand if I read him aright. I
never noticed before how his naturally national mind
stretched out to reach all nations, how he burned as he
wrote of the mystery hitherto hid, now made known,
that the Gentiles were to be fellow-heirs and partakers
of the promise with the Jews. A strait Pharisee rejoicing over this! Now is not this my word? Though
men revile and turn their backs, yet may I not gain
such a sense of this ineffable grace of God, His love




172            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
which would seek to reconcile His haters to Himself,
that I shall always be cheerful? I feel that to be truly
successful as a missionary, counting success not by the
number of converts, but as Paul did, according to the
faithfulness with which I testify of the grace of God, I
need to stay myself on the true, the firmest ground,
allowing secondary and subordinate motives to help me
on, but grasping with my might the cardinal principles
of the kingdom of heaven. I do long, yearn at times,
to be Christ's. Yet I am not weak enough now. I
have not proved my weakness, as I shall some day.
Then Christ will be prepared to show his power in me.
I have felt however my insufficiency on shipboard.
Here we are, within a fortnight of Madras, and not
a soul here has become a Christian. We have had
preaching service and a little Biblical instruction, and
private instruction has not been wholly neglected. Yet
I have not been as faithful as I might have been. I
have been pleased to find true Christians as I believe
among the foreigners.
The following entry in his diary shows the result
of his study on shipboard: — " I have been through
Pope's' Tamil Hand-Book,' Pope's' Third Grammar,'
a part of Galatians, have written two or three prayers
and a good part of a sermon in Tamil. I have read a
good part of Caldwell's' Dravidian Grammar,' one
volume of Bopp's'Comparative Grammar,' Renan
on' L'Origine du Langage' twice, Farrar on'Origin
of Language,' part of Renan on' Semitic Languages,'
Weber's' Litt6rature Indienne' (in part), Kaye's' Administration of East India Company,' Kaye's'Christianity in India," Life of Carey Marshman and Ward,'




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            173
part of Maury's'Physical Geography of the Sea,''Adam  Bede,'' Memoirs of Lobdell,'' Weitbrecht,''Fox,''Knill,' Gibson's account of'Revival in Ireland'; I have written a long journal home and about
twenty letters."
On June 25th they sighted Friar's Hood, a peak on
the Island of Ceylon. The next day they saw plainly
the coast south of Madras, and David bringing his seajournal to a close writes: -" Our voyage is over, all
full of goodness from the hand of God as it has been.
My home is at hand. My work is before me. India
is to be the Lord's. How soon? " The quiet of the
voyage was followed by the bustle of landing, and the
next day, in Madras, he finishes his sea-journal with the
following account of the close of the voyage, and his
first excitement upon fairly standing on the shores of
India: -
In a dream, in a dream. Here we are at last fairly
tossed out into an Oriental jumble. Haw! haw! croak
the crows, and all about chimes in, dinning into one's
eyes as well as ears, - "You're a Griffin," as they call
new-comers here. But lest I jumble up you as well,
let me begin at my last break and run as far as I can,
telling tidbits, letting big facts go. The first living
thing we sighted was a dhorey or native sloop. Soon
we spied a black, triangular-looking thing which turned
out to be the black sail of a catamaran going out to
fish. Catamaran means " tied-trees " and is nothing but
three logs bound together.  Squatted on these boats
when at anchor, standing up when going, were some
sable natives who gave us our first introduction to
India. When at anchor they squat, throwing their




174            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
lines out and putting the fish into date-leaf baskets.
Pretty soon the sea became alive with this style of
craft. One came near us and a man held up a fish.
I used my first Tamil, and shouted out " Come here!"
but he could not catch us. Thicker and thicker they
came, till we could hear them chattering to one another.
They had none too much raiment on them, and one
wonders how they can bear the hot sun on their bare
heads and naked backs. Soon one chap came alongside
and crawled over; a scrawny-looking fellow enough
and stupid withal. We could make nothing of him,
but if my alcohol had been at hand I should have got
some prawns and fish for S. [a Naturalist brother.]
I hope to yet.
Just as this catamaran came up, a Masullah boat
appeared in sight. On it came, bearing several gayturbaned individuals in the stern. As soon as alongside,
all hands scrambled on deck, and here were Hindus
indeed. The rowers, about a dozen or eighteen, were
mostly fine athletic men. The turbaned fellows were
sent by the consignees. They were large in their own
eyes, especially one fellow who, like all Hindus, considered that an aldermanic protuberance was the highest
ornament to the person. He strutted about with folded
arms and high mien, looking as if he would not refuse
a good slasher of beef. One or two were really handsome.  Several had the mark of the beast on their
forehead, - Siva's three marks.
Pretty soon another big boat-load of the same sort
came alongside with turbaned individuals, carrying their
characters in their pockets and offering their services.
We were busy now, for letters and papers had come
for the captain, and all gathered round while we read




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            175
extracts from Boston papers and the telegraphic news
from  a Madras paper, extracts which let us at once
into the midst of your tossings and fever. We feared the
worst and it had nearly come. This mixed up matters
most provokingly. News of Tammany sachems, becoming wise at last, was jumbled with Tamil chattering
and orders about the ship. We had by this time rattled out our anchor. The deck was a perfect Babel,
naked humanities running about and poking their chaffing English into people's faces, while the new sailors
stared at the queer sight.  The custom-house officer
too had come, and was consulting with the captain.
But suddenly our maze was disentangled by the coming of another boat, in which we made out John Scudder's brothers. He hurrahed, they shouted back, and
soon the brothers were embracing and laughing, and
playing their jokes in a most brotherly fashion.
Another boat! This makes for the forward part.
I run and peer over and see two men.  "Mr. Bancroft," says one. I rush back and tell the captain that
the ice-agent has come.  Mr. Webb looks over and
sees his old friend, my new one, Mr Hunt,* who clambers up and greets us all in his quiet, affectionate way.
Hurrah! Home letters! Down we sit on our tied-up
mattresses and cut open the fat packages.  No one
missing. H. is at hers and I at mine, letting all other
sighlts and sounds go now. But I only read enough to
find that all are well, and that blessings unsupposed
though not unprayed for had come upon ours, —and
then we put up our last bundles ready for shore. F.
is let down into one boat by a chair, H. on the other
side of the ship descends in an Occidental fashion. I
* The Printer and Agent at Madras for the American Mission.




176           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
rush about, shake hands with all the sailors, say a final
" Come along! " to Polly, the parrot, and down I go.
Now for Madras and the surf! We are in a Masullah boat, a big trough of a thing made of boards tied
together and the seams stopped up with grass, so that it
may give when going over the rollers. The seats are
nothing but bars three inches square and four feet apart,
that is, those for the rowers. A little raised platform,
decidedly rickety, holds with squeezing Mr. Webb's
party, Mr. Hunt, Mr. Bancroft, H. and me. Ava! here
we go! and now we have done forever with Stars and
Stripes and Western ways. Down go the oars, long
poles with teakettle-covers at the end, and with gruntings from the men and pos! from us we are off. As
the men pull, they sing out in a low tone, not opening
their mouths, for the other organ suffices, Anndn! Annan! helping it out with an occasional Vadadh! Vadah!
In five minutes we are upon the rollers. It is a calm
day and the rollers are lower than usual; we row on to
the first swell. The men lay by, and as soon as fairly
over, Jeldi! Joldi! shout the men, and away we go to
the next; so on and on, for six or seven times until
we ground on the beach. It is raining hard, and the
water rushes in upon us somewhat from behind. Here
we lie till some black chaps, who need not be afraid of
wetting their clothes, came out to us and carried us to
the land in chairs.
Mr. Winslow's carriage is waiting and in we crawl.
Mr. Webb goes with Mr. Hunt, and John with his
brothers. Here I try my Tamil again and manage to
get my things on board. (There! we are lands-folk
now.)  Now for a drive in this bandy, better looking
than most others, which remind me of our Boston




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           177
House of Correction carts that we boys used to be so
mortally afraid of. Away Po! The horse-keeper runs
ahead to keep people out of the way, but as the drive
is out of the business parts, we meet few carts. We
have a jolly time. " Nothing looks natural," says H.,
"but the surf." That's a fact! Scrawny palm-trees
half withered up; crows cawing at you with the most
brazen impudence; clumps of queer-looking grass;
cactus growing on the beach, no flowers though, except a little purple one nodding cheerily to us as we
pass. I try my Tamil again, solely in the form of
"Is this so and so?" and get the very flattering answer "Am,"-Yes. I feel fine, but come down when I
find that the driver was wrong, and that the natives will
always say " Yes," when they think it will please you.
We pass some fine houses and come out at last into a
native neighborhood. Here is a cluster of low-roofed,
thatched houses, quite respectable for the kind, and
men, women, and young brats doing all sorts of things
and all in a queer way. The young ones kick up and
have a jolly time here just as we young ones used to.
But we go too fast to see much, and speedily rein up
before Mr. Winslow's spacious house. Mr. Winslow
comes down the steps and greets us both. Mrs. W.
follows and we are at home, — in India. Everything
looks roomy. We are shown to our room, and I walk
back and forth and touch the walls to assure myself
that I have over six feet of spare room. The room is
higher than it is broad, and everything bears the appearance of airiness.  I come out after looking over
some letters and walk up and down the veranda
(alias piazza) with Mr. Winslow.  We chat about
everything, especially about the war at home. Before
12




178            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
long Mr. Webb comes with Mr. Hunt, as this is the
evening for a prayer-meeting.
Soon after Mr. Webb came, Abraham  Alleine, a
Christian munnshi,that is, teacher, came in to greet him.
He had been ten years with Mr. Webb at Dindigal.
He gave me a pleasing idea of the Christian, " for,"
said he, in English, " I cannot stop. I must do God's
work first; I am on my way to our prayer-meeting,"
a native meeting.... We had a hearty meeting,
praying especially for our own land; the spirit was
most refreshing, so natural and rich. After they had
gone we opened a budget of letters from Madura and
found a hearty All hail! from the missionaries there.
It fairly made us cry to get such a warm greeting
from strangers; but we are strangers no more.
To one of the letters referred to in the last paragraph
he replied as follows: —
MADRAS, June 28, 1861.
Nothing, my dear brother Burnell, has affected us
so deeply as the receipt of words of hail from those
unknown to us, save by name. Let me return your
greeting, and try to join you in thankfulness to God that
He has counted me worthy to touch India. As a newcomer, let me ask peculiar interest in your supplications
for me that I may be fitted, by a personal acquaintance
with Christ, to testify of the Gospel of God. I am
more impressed as I walk about, with my own lack
than with the heathen's misery.
Hoping to see you all in peace, I remain
Yours sincerely,
DAVID C. SCUDDER.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             179
CHAPTER X.
STAY IN MADRAS.
[27 JUNE —16 JULY, 1861.]
[FROM  the time of leaving home until his death, my
brother kept a full journal, in the form of a letter to
his father and mother, which was regularly mailed once
a fortnight. This contained the record of his daily life,
and was intended for the circle of friends at home,
around which it passed; to separate friends also he
wrote, and to those who had access to his journal his
letters were frequently more personal. From both these
sources, his journal and his letters, I am able to give
the narrative of his life in India in his own words.
The occasional editorial notes which may be required
will be indicated in this part by brackets.]
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
THURSDAY, June 27.
This morning I was up and out and oh,,
how I did pine for you just to have you by to laugh
with me.  As it was I had to ha! ha! right out: I
could not help it, if I was a missionary. To see a little
tot strutting about free as the air, unfettered by civilization, cunning and nimble as Puck! The first thing
that stopped me was the sight of three bits of ebony
dabbling in the mud, for all the world like white youngsters. The oldest, a little girl, had a necklace on, and
all had bright chirk faces. I grinned and they grinned.




180            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
I said in Tamil, " Are you well?"  They only grinned,
and so ended my first attempt at trying the children.
I like them though, and take back what I once said in
our Sabbath-school, on authority, that all the little children in India were old men. They are not; they are
bond fide children. They romp and look demure and
smile at you, and dig in the dirt just as they ought to.
But how can I tell what I saw?  Patterns or else
the originals of all vehicles, from the 1" carriages " of
the Acts, rather hard! to the go-carts of nowadays;
bullocks with stiff and crumpled horns; gaunt sons of
Arabs trotting by; bandies of all sorts and shapes.
There comes one: two bullocks jog along, with a rope
through their nostrils, the driver sitting upon the pole;
inside - a space of four feet square - sit four or five
swarthy sons of this land in hot'contiguity, looking as
if going to be sold in the shambles, chattering like apes.
Here comes a woman, modestly apparelled, as all are,
with a young brat puss-back, or rather puss-hip; some
ride puss-shoulder, always one leg behind, one in front.
Here is a fat and oily Brahman with his cord about
his neck. Here is a man carrying two earthen pots
full of something, slung by a stick over his shoulder.
Peons, that is, policemen, walk about with their brass
badges, and here is a Mussulmhnan woman covered from
head to foot with a white cloth, so that nothing can be
seen.
I walked as far as the stone statue of Sir Thomas
Munroe, a former Governor, and turned back.  It
occurred to me that I had seen no temple, so I looked
out on my return, and found one close by a wretched
collection of huts, which brought to mind a picture of
an African kraal. I saw what looked like a temple,




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            181
and would you believe it, it was one of Pilliyar which
I had so often described in America. I really could
not but feel amused. There it was, a stone or clay
building, about twelve feet cube, crumbling to decay,
with a low portico, under which was Siva's stone. On
the outside, in a small niche about two feet square, sat
Pilliyar nearly filling the space and made, [ judge, of
black stone. The niche had two doors which I suppose
are shut at night.  There I stood and looked and
thought and prayed. Inside I could hear the mutterings of the poor priests or worshippers, and as I stood
there, a man passing by on his way to work raised his
hands and bowed his head and went on.  Here was
idolatry; it is marked too on the foreheads of men, in
the sectarian signs of chalk and ashes. Turning into
the compound or enclosure of Mr. Winslow's house, I
met a Christian teacher and passed a few words in
English. I said, "This is my first day in India."
" Yes," said he, "and I am the first person to meet
you, which will be pleasant in your memory." A
small bit of Orientalism I suppose.
After breakfast I went to Popham's Broadway in a
palkee.  A palkee, short for palanquin, is about six
feet by three, and four feet high, lined with chintz; the
bottom  of cane, covered with a cushion or bed; two
sliding doors on each side; a shelf with drawers in
front, and a back of pad, something like a coach-strap,
to lean on as you half sit up; a pole is fixed for four
men, two at each end. One end is raised, you compose your members properly and then the other end
rises. Grunt! off we are, slow at first, then fast and
faster.  Eh! says one in front, Ay! says one behind,
and so it runs from back to front and back again, as the




182           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
four men make their way in a dog-trot style, swinging
their free arms as if to strike their breasts, and writhing
their swarthy bodies very oddly. They sing in a low,
monotonous, nasal, and half-pitiful way, eh! oh! ah!
eh! oho! ay-ai! the man behind breaking out now and
then into a hi! or ho! and something that sounds like
pass po! pass po! as if in his last gasp. Every five
minutes they change their shoulders, without however
setting you down, and begin their grunt again, but always on a different key. I like the way of getting
about and the chant is rather soothing..... *    In the late afternoon we drove out to the
beach where everybody goes and which was lively
enough.  The surf rolls in finely and thus we have
Nature's anthem. The band gives us art. The whole
road is lined with carriages of all sorts, and horses of
every kind galloping about. The horse-keeper always
runs ahead of the carriage, shouting to folks to clear
the track. Fine turn-outs have two runners, who keep
a wisp made from the tail of a ydk, a kind of goat from
the north. But this is civilization and you don't care
about that.
I like the affectionate way that the natives
have toward each other. You often see two men walking along with their fingers joined, not the whole hand,
but swinging their hands by their fingers. Then at
night when all are on their way from work, it is common to see one leaning with one or both hands on
another's shoulders in a very brotherly way.
FRIDAY, June 28.
I started at five and a half P. M, and made
my way to the native bazaar. A bazaar is much like




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           183
a Fourth-of-July or Fair-Day booth strung out. There
were whole streets of them.  Everybody saluted me
in broken English, but I let my eyes alone do duty. I
walked where I chose, and it was not long before I got
lost. All the streets look exactly alike and all queer.
I did not much care what happened for a while, bound
to see all I could. I came across many little temples,
as I suppose, though I fancy most were only private
dwellings, with niches in the walls for household deities. I have as yet seen none but the most innocent
paintings on temples or house walls, nothing indecent,
in all my ramblings. Black Town, the native part, is
only about a mile in diameter, and I have wandered
over a good portion of it.
But what amazed me most completely was a school
that I happened upon. All my previous ideas were
tame enough. It was gathered on the low mud veranda of a native house, and on the ground, sheltered
from the road by a cane screen. I knew it at once
by the din of voices, but oh the sight! The whole set
of thirty or so were yelling out their lessons from blackboards. At one end sat the teacher, a man of about
sixty, with silver-bowed goggles, and a piece of green
leaf against his face to keep them from chafing, I judge.
By his side stood a boy of about twelve, almost naked,
his hair tied in a queue behind, reading out of a native
printed book. As he saw me stop, he went at it with
unusual energy, yelling so as to be heard a half a mile
away. He stuck out his thick lips, drew in a tremendous breath and then let it out: it was perfectly deafening. His voice grew lower and lower till it sunk into a
whisper, while he writhed his head and body to squeeze
out the last bit. Then he began again, singing off the




184           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
words. Once in a while the old man would stop him,
and show him how, in exactly the same style, only his
toothless mouth contrasted queerly with the shining
ivories of his pupil. I stepped up and looked over.
The old man was very polite and showed me the book,
which turned out to be in Telegu. He grunted and I
grunted back.  Finding that I could get off a little
Tamil, he sang out to somebody inside to come out, but
I feared the consequences and beat a sudden retreat.
SATURDAY, June 29..... This evening I took a walk on Mount Road,
leading to St. Thomas's Mount, the favorite drive.
The English shops here are decidedly unique and are
fine establishments. Many look like palaces, having
long sweeping avenues leading up to them, with beautiful grounds about, containing twenty acres or more.
The roads too are well macadamized and broad, so
that an evening drive here along the sea-side, where
the surf beats up ceaselessly, is decidedly refreshing
after a hot day. The picturesque garb of the natives
makes a pleasing addition to the scene. As I sat on a
parapet by the road-side, a young girl came by and
seeing me stopped, stooped and made a gesture as if
scooping up sand and putting it on her head; all gracefully done, and she went on her way. It is often done
to you and strikes one very unpleasantly. The ordinary and only salutation that I have seen is touching
the forehead and slightly bowing. At first I did not
like it, but I think now it is nothing more than equivalent to our lifting or touching our hats. It seems humiliating, though, to pass as I did yesterday between
two long lines of beggars, and have them bow their
heads to the dust.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            185
MONDAY, July 1.
Yesterday morning at seven o'clock I went to preach
before breakfast in the Baptist chapel.  There were
about eighty present, mostly Anglo-Indians or Eurasians, as they are called, half foreign, half native.  I
preached extempore on the words, "Freely ye have
received, freely give," - a good text for me and my
favorite.  The audience was very attentive.  One
thing was Asian: punkahs were swinging everywhere.
I used to have a very indefinite idea of what a punkah
was.  It is simply a narrow strip of board covered
with cloth or painted, from which hangs, on the edge,
a fringe of thick cloth. It is hung by long cords from
the ceiling, and is pulled by a cord passing over a pulley in the opposite wall. In the church two long ones
were swaying back and forth across the body of the
church; four or five swung to and from me on each
side-aisle, and one small one over my head. After
service I came home, ate a hurried breakfast and went
into Mr. Winslow's Tamil service. He preached on
the fall of Jericho, and I made out to understand considerably well what was said.  In this chapel the
natives generally sit on seats like Europeans, but most
of the children squat on the floor with two or three
female teachers. The teachers are Christian, and it was
a pleasant sight to see them, as they first sat down, bow
with their faces to the ground toward the pulpit in
silent prayer.  Their quiet, pleasing faces bore the
mark of Christian intelligence.  But the little ones!
They were disposed in two semicircular rows in front
and looked demure enough, but some of the uncurbed
ones rolled about, chuckled, kicked up their shiny feet
and had a good time evidently. One little fellow, about




186           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
four years old, had a check jacket, but he clearly considered it an encumbrance, and was not satisfied till he
had disrobed himself and crumpled up his jacket between his clenched fists. Several times during service a
crow would perch on the window and haw! haw! most
saucily. The singing is fully equal to the most orthodox music in New England. The only organ used was
the nasal, and that was played on to perfection.
We had Monthly Concert at four P. M. Mr. Winslow asked me to speak - in Tamil, which I declined;
by an interpreter, which I agreed to. But afterward
I asked myself, Why not begin in Tamil to-day? It
will do to tell of at least! So at meeting when Mr.
Winslow introduced me, and Abraham came forward
to interpret, I began in Tamil; he gave an involuntary
oh! and retreated.  I told them where I had come
from and why I had come to them. A large part of
my discourse consisted of the text of my morning sermon. I was rather flurried and hardly "raked an X,"
as we should say at Williams. But I made a beginning
and mean to keep it up. By the way, in what I said
was a good illustration of the liability to mistake and
egregious blunders under which a novice labors: after
meeting I asked Mr. Winslow's servant if he understood me.  "Yes," said he, "but what is kodai?"
"A gift," said I, or tried to say, but he could not quite
comprehend. There is no good single word for gift;
kodai is used and I took it when saying, " God has
given me a gift." It is not a common word, but another, similar in sound, is common, viz: kudai, where
the u is pronounced almost precisely like o, and which
word means umbrella. He thought I said " God has
given me an umbrella," and naturally was puzzled.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           187
However he told me, laughing, that he was not going to talk English any more to me, and he does not.
I heard of a more ludicrous mistake. A missionary in
Bombay was discoursing most eloquently to a native
assembly, and in the course of his speech hoped that
the Lord would give them all an understanding; unfortunately the term for understanding closely resembles
another of different meaning; and, blundering, he
hoped that the Lord would give to all of them an
old woman!
This morning I went to a book-store kept by
an Englishman, where was a very good assortment of
books, but, much to my relief, I found nothing which
strongly tempted me. Coming to India gives me grace,
I fancy, father. Down-town I bought a pith hat, covered with white cloth; when appearing in this, you
might easily imagine that Robinson Crusoe stood before
you. It is shaped like a washbowl, and fits to your
head by a band, connected with the hat only by four
supports, thus allowing a free circulation inside. Indeed the wind fairly howls about my head..... I
paid my palkee-bearers yesterday more than the usual
price. When the chief man took it - a half-rupee - he
began to expostulate with me on the wretched pay. I
marched off, whereupon, with a most contemptuous
look, he flung the money on the ground. I paid no
heed, but left him, and presume that he condescended
to pick it up finally. Not long ago, a man bet with a
new-comer that the latter would not pay his bearers
enough to satisfy them. The man went to ride, and
afterward paid the bearers four or five times the usual
sum. With most profound bowings, the head-man
begged of' his honor to have compassion upon them, so




188           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
poor, and give them enough to buy a sheep! It is of
no use to try to satisfy them. Yesterday, when coming back, a new set bore me, and waited an hour on
the veranda in hope of more pay.  Every time I
looked out, I could see them with their hands to their
foreheads.
JULY 10.
I see some new sights nearly every morning as I
take my walk. A few days since, I was wandering
about among native streets, when I came across a
mosque. There are many Mohammedans throughout
Southern India, and many are very rich. They were
the rulers of the country before the English, and ill
brook the English supremacy.  This mosque was a
broad, white building, with two tall minarets, one at
each end. A large yard was all about it, and I only
ventured to look in.  I could see on the pavement
before the mosque men bowing and prostrating, first
one way and then another. I made my way about,
and through a, noisy bazaar, stopping to look and laugh
at two boys who were lugging off another brat bodily,
and at last turned into what seemed a burial-ground.
The people stopped to look at me, and I to look at a
man dressed in gay colors, who was seated on a slab,
with an old manuscript before him. There he sat,
swaying his body, and chanting through his nose some
religious sayings, -perhaps the Koran. It was a picture of desolation - that Mohammedan poring over his
books in the midst of decaying tombstones and tumbleddown sepulchres.
JULY 11.
As I was riding alone to-day I passed a man in the
road, who was, I suppose, performing some vow. He




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            189
had in his hands a little basket, adorned with flowers.
Keeping it in his hand, he rolled over and over on the
ground, muttering something to himself, looking the
very picture of deluded superstition.  Poor fellow!
And oh, these beggars! that ah! ah! at you from
the corners of the streets, and the horrid cripples and
lepers that hold out stumps of arms and awful deformities for you to see - they haunt one!
[TO REV. EVARTS SCUDDER.]
Madras is a city of magnificent distances; one
can go ten miles in most any direction. Royapuram
is a suburb where Mr. Hunt lives. It is a beautiful
place, full of nice green gardens and cocoa-nut forests.
Walk half a mile from his house, and you are in a
wood that reminds you at once of pictures of South
American forests. Magnificent cocoa-nut palms wave
their spreading heads, tamarind-trees cast their thick
shadows about, bamboos bend and bow so easily, and
occasionally you see the long, pendent shoots of the
banian, - all giving an air of gloom. In the trees you
can see men climbing about, getting the sap, and at
short distances are native villages, with mud-walled,
thatch-roof houses. Did I write about a visit here on
Sunday? I will now, at any rate. About four in the
afternoon Mr. Hunt and I rode out, sending the catechist before us. We stopped on the border of this
forest, and walked a little way to the preaching-place.
This is a mud ]louse, whitewashed, only one bare
room. The windows are grated with thick iron bars.
One door forms a sure protection, as   once found
to his comfort when set on by an excited mob. We
went in and sat down on a bench. Two young men




190           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
then sang a Tamil hymn, and people began to come
and look in. Before long we had quite an audience,
marks on their foreheads showing them to be heathen.
The catechist preached; the men listened well, often
nodding their heads in approval. Two boys making
some noise in play, a queer-looking man got up, caught
them by the little knot of hair on their heads, and
hauled them out-doors. Outside, close by the preacher,
were crowded a dozen people, —men, women, and
babies, - standing off, or pressing their faces against the
iron bars, seemingly eager to catch every word, and
caring nothing for the strangers. A. capital audience;
and how know we but that a seed dropped into good
soil?
In about half an hour we walked out, and pursued our way to the Tinnevelly Settlement in the
Forest, boys and men pressing eagerly about, asking for
tracts. The catechist came with us, and pointed out
a good place to preach in. So we stopped, and the
catechist, standing at the root of a tree, began to read
a "proclamation."  Several people were about and
stopped to listen.  Others passing turned aside, - men
with big burdens on their backs, women carrying
water. Before long a large audience, perhaps thirty,
were standing in quiet attention, when a man bearing a brass pot came up, elbowed his way through
the people, put down his pot, and stood looking at the
catechist with folded arms. Pretty soon he began to
look excited, and in a few moments broke out into a
perfect storm of passionate words, fierce gesticulation,
and scowling looks. I never in my life saw such a picture of satanic rage and fury. He fumed and fretted
as if actually possessed of the devil; his face was most




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            191
fiendish. I could hardly understand a word, but could
easily guess the purport of what he said. He declaimed
for a long while, without paying the slightest heed to
the catechist. At last he lost his breath, and gave
others a chance to speak. Who should oppose him
and defend the truth? Not a single Christian was
present save us three.  Who should step forward,
right in front of the man, and take up the gauntlet,
but a bright boy, about fifteen years old! Manly fellow, he was not a member of any church, but in some
of the mission schools he had learned enough of Christ
and Christianity to know that this man was an ignorant
defamer, and he meant to defend the truth against
him. So he did; and, I tell you, I got as excited as
could be, fairly trembling as I stood and looked on.
Then a man with a huge bundle loosed his load and
put in a word, well, too, for he got the laugh on
the man from the whole crowd.  It was soon clear
that the man met with no favor from those present,
who knew him to be a pestilent intermeddler.  The
catechist himself was known in the village, and respected even by the heathen. Mr. Hunt closed the
dispute by stepping up to the man and handing him a
tract on repentance, when the company, now fifty or
more, dispersed. The whole scene was very impressive. So the gospel fares.
[It will be remembered that my brother had engaged
to correspond with such schools as should contribute to
the support of native schools in the Madura Mission.
The following is the first of a series of letters written
under this plan; and while of later date, it relates to
scenes in Madras, so that it properly belongs in this




192           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
chapter. I give it entire, although there is sometimes
repetition of what has appeared in the journal. With
this letter closes the account of the stay in Madras.]
DINDIGAL, INDIA, Aug. 6, 1861.
MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS, - Here I am at last, on
the opposite side of the globe from you, under a different sky, and among strange faces. Before I left home
I promised you that I would try to write you a letter
about my voyage to India, and the things I first saw
there. I am spared to reach India, but how, what
shall I write? Did you ever try to pour water out of
a small narrow-necked bottle? what a rattling and
gurgling it makes! Just such a bottle am I, -full
enough of things to say, but so very full that they roll
ever one another in great confusion if I try to pour
them out.  So this time you must let me gurgle a
little.
I have so much to say about India that I shall have
to leave out all about the oceans that we crossed, the
ships we met and bowed to, the big whales we saw,
the birds we caught with fish-hooks, the stormy winds,
when the great waves rushed in over the ship, and the
hot, still days, when the great ocean was as smooth as
a mill-pond. Read the 107th Psalm, and you will
have a good picture of life at sea. Through all God
kept us. For more than one hundred days we sailed
along without once seeing green grass, or even barren
sand, until, one fine morning, the cry came down to us
from the mast-head, Land ho! How we did cheer and
rush to get a sight! We strained our eyes, and there,
away off over the water, was a dim blue line - land at
last, hills in India. The wind was blowing us quickly




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            193
toward it, and soon we could catch the form of other
hills, and then the beach, the white sand glistening in
the sun, and there were trees - yes, living trees - tall
cocoa-nut palms waving their feathery leaves in the
morning breeze.  There's a village! "What!  that?
how muddy it looks." Yes, and well it may, for all
houses in India are built of mud. "But see those
black things all around us on the water; why, there's
a man on them, on every one! what can they be?"
Those are boats, made of three logs tied together; they
are called  catamarans, which means "tied trees."
They are fishing-boats, and those men who look as if
they were dressed in black, but are really dressed in
nothing, are the fishermen.  Here they come alongside, with fish to sell. But we can't stop to look at
them, for there, just coming in sight, is Madras, where
we are to land. We can see plainly the ships lying at
anchor, the flag flying in the fort, the tall towers of
Mohammedan mosques, and, what is still more pleasing, the steeples of Christian churches. Soon the captain gives orders to cast anchor, we hear a tremendous
rattling of chain, down goes the anchor to the bottom
of the sea, and our long voyage is over.
Soon other larger but very odd-looking boats row up
to us, and in one of them comes Mr. Hunt, the missionary printer; we are glad to see him, for he brings
us letters from home, which we left four months ago.
If you want to know how blessed a thing it is to get
good news from a far country, come to India and see.
We sat down at once, tore open our letters, found all
were well at home, and then made ready to go ashore.
We pack up our last bundle, bid good-bye to the captain and all the sailors, climb down into the boat, push
13




194           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
off, turn back to look once more at the good ship which
has borne us safely so long, wave our handkerchiefs, and
in fifteen minutes are standing on " India's coral
strand." Then we are glad. Now, let us have a good
night's sleep, rocked to rest, not by tossing waves but
by happy thoughts, and to-morrow we will take our
first walk in India, to see what we shall see.
Well, morning comes in India just as it does in
America. We wake up, dreaming that all the crows
in India are having a grand meeting right outside the
house, - such a terrible cawing!  We get up and
look out, and there, perched on top of houses and walls,
and wheeling about in the air, are hundreds of noisy
crows; they are as plenty here as doves at horne, very
tame and very troublesome. The natives call them
"- Ka-ka; " a good name, is n't it? After scolding at
the crows, which only makes them scold back, we set
out for a walk.
The first thing we notice is four little children playing in the sand, -little nut-brown bodies, how oddly
they look. I wonder whether they know how to smile.
I'11 stop and try. Yes, sure enough, they all smile
back, showing their clear white teeth. That's a good
sign; for if a boy or girl knows how to smile, there
must be some good in them — don't you think so?
Well, walk on. Here come some women carrying
their babies; and how, do you think? In their arms?
no. Do they ride puss-back? no; they ride astride of
their mother's hips, or else across their father's shoulders. And what a queer dress the people wear: the
men all dress in white, though some have only a cloth
tied around their waist. The women like gay colors,
and if they can have a red cloth, feel quite grand.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             195
Then they wear ornaments: bracelets of wax or of
glass or brass, rings on their fingers and toes, bracelets
on their ankles, rings in their noses and in their ears.
You see little girls going about with a great hole in
their ears, kept open by a roll of leaf as large as a
quarter of a dollar. Nearly all the men shave their
heads; some leave a little tuft on top, others on the
sides; most all go bareheaded, and look very droll,
with their smooth heads shining in the sun.
But what is this strange-looking cart coming? It is
called a bandy, and looks for all the world like a little
girl's Quaker bonnet on two wheels. It is drawn by
two oxen, or bullocks as they are called. Some of
you boys would laugh to see the way the natives drive.
The driver sits on the pole of the cart, and holds in his
hands the reins, which pass through the nostrils of the
bullock.  He keeps his hands on the bullocks' backs,
and if he wants to go fast, kicks them with his naked
feet; if faster still, twists their tails, all the while talking to them in a queer way.
We are on the opposite of the world from America,
so we must expect that many things will be different
here from things at home. I might tell you of many
strange ways of working the people have.  While I
am writing, a tailor is sitting close by; if you watch
him, you will see that he sews by pushing the needle
from  him  instead of towards him, as you girls do.
When the people milk the cows, they always sit on the
left-hand side, not on the right.  It is not thought
wrong to walk into a gentleman's house with your hat
on, but it would never do to go in without taking
off your shoes; nor must you ever go away from a
house before you are told to. Which of you boys or




196            LIFE AND LETTER S OF
girls is number one at school? If you should tell a
Hindu scholar that you are number one, he would
think you were at the foot of the class. If there are
twenty boys in a class, number twenty is at the head.
So, when the Bible tells us that Elisha was ploughing
with twelve yoke of oxen, himself with the twelfth, it
means, in our way of counting, that he was with the
first.
But I forget; we are taking a walk. Do you notice how all the people you meet have marks on their
foreheads? here are some who have three marks of
yellow and white, up and down.  Here are others,
that have a broad mark across their foreheads, and
even on their breasts and arms; others have a spot as
large as a five-cent piece just above their noses, and
others a blue line running down their noses. What
are they for? They are sacred marks, showing what
god the people who wear them worship. They are
made with ashes or chalk, and are rubbed on every
morning; but some of the marks are rubbed in so deep
that no washing can take them out; so I have seen
some Christians here, who were once heathen, wearing
these marks still. They are the old marks, and as
those can never be washed away till death, so many
spots on their soul shall not be clean gone till they pass
to where the pure live, and have on their foreheads a
new name written.  There are no marks on your foreheads; are there any on your souls?  The Roman
Catholics here mark their foreheads with the cross,
and well show by that how like the heathen they
still are.
But we have taken a long walk, and the sun is up;
it will not do to stay out late in this hot country, for




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            197
the sun is scorching. We have seen no temple as yet;
let us look out for one on the way back. Just before
you turn into the missionary house, on the left-hand
side of the road, you see a man turning round and
round, bowing and muttering over something. What
is he about? Go a little nearer, and there, bidden behind some trees, you see a small whitewashed house.
In front of where the man is standing is a hole in the
wall, about two feet square, and inside it sits a great
black dirty- looking image, with a garland of red
flowers around its neck. Look carefully and see if you
can tell the name of the image. Do you remember
the story I told you about the god with an elephant's
head? this is the one, for you can see his trunk as he
holds it in his hand.  Was n't it strange that it should
be the first idol I saw in India?  It made me think of
the many Sunday-schools to which I had told the story,
but here really was that idol; yes, and here was a real
man praying to it. Of course, I knew before that real
men did such things, yet I had never seen one till now.
There he was, joining his hands together, bowing down
and saying his prayers to that black stone. Poor man!
do you truly believe that such a thing as that can hear
you or do you good? I could not talk to him, for I
did not know his lancuage; so I stood and looked and
wondered. Pretty soon he walked around to the front
side, where was another stone image.  He bowed to
that with his face to the ground, turned round five or
six times, and bowed again, and was doing so when I
left him and went into the house.
How do you suppose that temple happened to be in
just that place? Some years ago there was a large well
on the spot; some priests spread a report that at the bot



198           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
tom of that well was a god, and that he wanted to be
brought up and worshipped. So they called a great
crowd of people together, had a feast, said prayers, and
then sent some one down into the well. Down he
went, and after a time came back, bringing, to be sure,
the god with him. Then the people shouted out, and
said that the god must have a temple on that very spot.
So they set to work, the people giving money; and the
building I saw was the temple which they put up for
this god.
Since I began this letter, I have been out with some
other missionaries, to preach to the heathen in another
place.  On the way back I saw what was a new sight
to me. Under a large tree were some idols; all
around the tree were swings made of wood, hung upon
wooden frames about six feet high. What, think you,
were they for? they were put there for the gods to
swing on!  Every dark night, say the people, when
the wind blows high, the gods come out and have a
swing; we can't see them, because it is dark, but we
can hear the swings creak as they sway back and
forth.
Now I must stop; but what have I written this long
letter to you for? can you answer? Because you promised me that if I would write you three or four times
a year, you would give enough money to keep a Christian school. In these schools the children will be
taught not to bow down to stones, but to the living
God. Do you not think that they need to be taught
this?
I have not told you about these schools yet, because
I had so much else to write about. In my next letter
I shall try to. And now don't forget your pennies,




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.          199
and when you drop them into the contribution-box,
wrap each one up in a prayer to God that He will
make them do good for the little heathen children in
India.
Your affectionate friend,
DAVID C. SCUDDER.




200            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
CHAPTER XI.
JOURNEY FROM MADRAS TO MADURA.
[16 JULY-10 AUGUST, 1861.]
[THE district in which the missionaries were to be
established was that of Madura, farther down the peninsula, and whose chief city with the name of the district
is about three hundred miles distant from Madras. By
taking a route somewhat circuitous they could avail
themselves of the railway as far as Salem, about a hundred and seventy miles from Madras, and visit on the
way the Vellore Mission. Mr. Webb and family travelled with them as far as his own station at Dindigal.
The narrative of the journey is contained as usual in
his journal.  The first date is the fourth day from
Madras.]
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
MALLUR, GOVERNMENT BUNGALOW, July 19.
We set off on Tuesday the 16th for Madura
vid the Scudders at the Arcot Mission.  Of course
this involved a temporary surrender of our Orientalism, as the only way to get there is by rail; we left at
3 P. M. and reached Vellore at 8.30 P. M.; the distance is about eighty miles over a flat tame country,
the only thing noticeable being the occasional ricefields and the more frequent temples. Vellore is well
known in Anglo-Indian history as the seat of what is
called the Vellore Mutiny of 1808, when the garrison




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           201
was murdered. We reached Silas Scudder's at ten,
had supper and went to bed. The Scudders all have a
punkah pulled over them during the nights of the hot
season, and so the man began on us. It was really so
cool that we did n't need the new breeze, so I went out
and said to the man, Vendanm..Po! Most invaluable
words are these, which I would advise every new-comer
in India to commit to memory as his first lesson in
Tamil. Venddn. Po!-that is, " Don't want. Go!"
So I said "Don't want. Go!" to the punkah-man.
He looked rather disconcerted, but I turned in. Soon
I heard the grunt which every native uses when he
wants your notice. The punkah-man was back and
said, " Master hired punkah for the night." Not wishing to have a bother and cheat the man out of his
wages I let him pull, and pull he did all night. Think
of it, what an intellectual operation. It was really too
cold, and waking every once in a while, there was the
punkah swinging over our heads; — it was oppressive
to think of that man.
About eight o'clock in the morning I made out to
take a breath and a walk, my first walk in the country.
The garden, or compound, as they call it here, is full of
large mango-trees, somewhat like our apple-trees, but
larger and more beautiful. I wandered about breathing in huge mouthfuls of the delicious morning air.
Butterflies flitted about; bugs of every color crawled;
lizards kept dodging round the trees. As I was going
along a path I was stopped by a crowd of black ants;
they were travelling back and forth on an ant-road as
if on some matter of life and death. I watched them
awhile and then tried to trace their way. One end I
could not find, the other I found in a hole. It looked




202            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
as if a big colony were migrating. I amused myself
a long while in stopping up the hole, laughing at their
bewilderment and wondering at their pertinacity..... The next day we took the cars again at 10.30 A. M. The ride was delightful, through a country
that reminded us of Vermont, the way lying between
ranges of high hills, giving us now and then beautiful
reaches of rice-fields of varying shades and growth and
rich foliage. Salem we reached at last; Salem is a
pure Tamil word. I jumped out, and the first thing
that caught my eye was what I thought must be my
bandy. It proved to be, and as I am in a favorable
position, sitting with my feet on the wheels, let me
describe it. It is called a box-bandy, and well called so.
H. says it looks most like the " Black Maria " [prisoncart, so called, in Boston]. You enter by a step behind,
cab-like. Inside, it is arranged nicely: the blinds let
down all around, above the wheels; there are two
seats, one at each end; the sides are lined with cane;
a cane seat, movable, also falls down from each side, so
as wholly to cover the empty space, thus making a good
place for a mattress. The bandy is about five feet
ten inches, by three feet six inches. A slide lifts up so
as to give the space under the driver's seat to stow away
your feet in. All the room is well taken up with boxes,
leather cups and straps; a side-board outside keeps off
mud and dirt. The color is dark brown, and the whole
affair is well finished off. With a good pair of little
bullocks I can hold up my head with anybody. To
be sure it jolts and jerks, very much like a chaise of
home make, but it is decidedly comfortable, comparatively.
We found bullocks awaiting at the station, which is




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            203
some distance from the town, but through a mistake no
cart except mine. We took tea at the depot, and finally
started off for the town. All but Mrs. Webb and the
baby were in my bandy; they went in the palanquin,
which had been provided as an easier mode of travel.
It is picturesque enough in a moonlight night to see the
palanquin pass along, - the men chanting and a bearer
swinging his flaming torch. At Salem we found carts,
and disposed ourselves for the night. Mrs. Webb and
baby went in the palkee. H., Sarah Webb, and I arranged ourselves in the bandy.  Mr. Webb took a
common cart, but did n't start until after the rest had
left.  Oh that ride!  We put our mattress in, but
little sleep had we, though it was after eight P. M. when
we started, and after one when we reached Mallufir, eight
miles! The novelty was enough to keep one wakeful,
but the ruts and rocks were added. Just as I was
about " losing myself," H. remarked that the oxen were
stopping very often. I thought they were tired, but on
looking out we soon saw the reason. We seemed to be
in the midst of a mud-hole. The driver flung his Tamil
about profusely, he could talk no English. So I had a
chance to try my Tamil again, and I did my best. I
made out to discover that it would be well to get out
of the bandy. So I got my shoes and jumped out. I
saw what looked like a road mending and walked on a
little way. I soon satisfied myself and came back, got
H. and Sarah out, and we tramped on over rocks and
through mud, till we reached the road again, the bandy
in the mean while nearly upsetting in the same endeavor. It was midnight, and what a fix we were in!
Who knew where we were?  I did n't even know the
name of the place to which we were going, and we were




204           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
nearly three hours already, and only eight miles in all
to go. But the man said he knew, so in we got again,
and after an hour's jolting we found ourselves at the
bungalow.
NA'MKAL, Sunday, July 21.
We are fourteen miles from our yesterday's station,
Muinsavadi, which was ten miles distant fiom Ma1llur.
This morning I walked out with Mr. Webb and he
found two congregations to preach to. I believe that I
can do no better Sabbath work than to have a sort of
monthly concert talk, as I used to in the old vestry,
only based on a little better knowledge. We reached
this bungalow about seven o'clock last evening. Perhaps I have not said that a bungalow is a house provided by the English Government for the accommodation of travellers. We find an empty hotel open to us,
for which we pay about twenty-five cents a day; of
course we do our own cooking, and bring our own beds,
chairs, tables, cots; sometimes crockery and cooking
utensils are furnished. As we enter this place the first
thing we see is a huge rock, four hundred feet high,
topped with an old fortress built by Hyder Ali, now
deserted. At the base of the rock is a large tank of
water, and in the centre of the tank a sort of temple,
which is nearly covered when the tank is full. Halfway down the rock is another temple, which looked
quite prettily as we drove by in the early moonlight,
while a band was playing in its neighborhood. The
village lies on one side and is quite populous, strawthatched houses appearing on all sides. The bungalow
is a little distance off from the village to insure quiet,
and quiet it is as on any Sabbath-day in New England.
At about half-past six this morning Mr. Webb and




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            205
I sauntered out toward the village, looking for a chance
to preach. In a minute or two we came upon a large
enclosure, where we had seen a great number of native
carts the night previous. Most of them had left, -
there is no weekly rest in this land, -but a few men
were about, bringing straw for the oxen and preparing
to start; some boys were idling around, while a little
girl sitting on the ground was feeding a still smaller
body with some wild berries. Here we stopped, and
Mr. Webb, taking his little pocket Tamil Testament,
read a verse or two and talked to them. I could only
catch a word or two, such as Jesus Christ, Saviour, the
Son of God, and Gospel. The word gospel in Tamil
is not understood by the common people, and so Mr.
Webb had to explain it, telling the men that it meant
"good news," and then sketching what the good news
was. I wish you could have seen the crowd, or rather
little gathering; there were only about a dozen; one
rather sinister-looking man acted as a sort of spokesman, or, better, echo, for it is quite characteristic of the
people of the country to echo what you say. If you
say to them, " We are all sinners," in response they do
not express their assent as we should by a special phrase,
but catch the very words and repeat them after you.
So did this man, while the others nodded their assent
to what was said. This nodding, I might say, would
perhaps disconcert a stranger, for universally here an
affirmative nod is a shake of the head sideways, which
looks very much like a disapproval.
After talking about fifteen minutes we passed on.
We came soon to a cluster of idols. Hard by the roadside, on a raised platform of earth and stones, not more
than two feet high, were five or six black, oily stone




206            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
images. Most conspicuous among them was Pilliyar,
with his elephant head, whose story I have so often
told at home.  In front and facing him was the rat
which he is said to ride; on either side were three or
four images of the hooded snake, or cobra, one fiveheaded, others double, twisted together. Even such a
little spot as that, usually under a tree, is called a temple. I have seen them all along the road since leaving
Madras; I had not heard about them at home. Unsightly looking things they are. A little beyond was a
hluge car of some idol. It was about thirty feet high,
borne on four enormous wooden wheels and figured all
over with representations of gods. In front was a heap
of chain with which the people drag it. Close by was
another car. Indeed, this must be a holy place. Near
by was a native cutchery or court and the post-office.
This is a low whitewashed house with pleasant porch.
Here was quite a gathering, and we went and greeted
the men. They rose and made way for us. Two or
three were busy arranging the mail, the rest were looking on. We sat down and asked the others to. They
did so, squatting on the floor; others, seeing the white
men, came up and joined the crowd, and we soon had
an audience of fifty or more.  This time, Mr. Webb
did not exactly preach to them, but told them the story
of a man who was converted on board the ship which
took him from India to England. Orientals love stories,
and all paid good attention, echoing his words and nodding, for half an hour. We did not wish to stay long
at a public place in business-hours, and left after a profusion of salaams and interchange of courteous words,
with the intention of going again this afternoon. As
Mr. Webb closed his talk, he told the men that just




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            207
as they scattered the rice-seed, so he was sowing the
truth by grains, hoping that some would bring forth fruit.
Indeed it is scattering. Look on the map and find
Salem which we have left, and Dindigal, to which we
go. This is a distance of one hundred miles, and we
are now about forty miles south of Salem; in all this
extent of one hundred miles not a single missionary or
native catechist is to be found, not a word of gospel
truth is preached to the people, unless it be by some
stray passer-by, who like us spends a Sabbath on the
way. Does it not require a living faith in that word
of God which abideth forever, to look for the regeneration of a land so sparsely supplied with the heralds of
the truth? One Christian woman we found here. As
I write this, she comes up to the bungalow, for we are
to have a little meeting now, - twelve o'clock. She
has gone to call more. -Meeting is over. There were
four women and three men present. One poor woman
was stupid enough, and I suppose never before had a
thought of anything but how to cook her rice.
DINDIGAL, Tuesday, July 23.
Well here I am at last, fairly within the boundaries
of the mission-field where my India-life is to be spent.
We arrived at eight this morning, after a night ride of
forty-five miles. I did n't sleep a wink all night, spent
six miles of the way in beating the bullocks, running
alongside to break their idea of the respectability of a
walk. I have tried to sleep, but don't succeed, and
write to put me in the way of it..... Sunday toward
dusk, I strolled out of the bungalow-yard. As hill
air is always bracing, my legs soon carried me up the
steep rock and into the fortress which I have spoken of.




208            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
It is rather a formidable-looking affair, but wholly desolate, or nearly so; the gods alone hold it. A sculptured
griffin, cut in the rock doorway, stands guard. Passing
in, you turn several corners, and soon are in the enclosure; crumbling buildings are all around, a green watertank collects the frogs, lizards crawl about, bugs wink
at you, and the only pleasant thing that greets you is a
pretty little wild flower, which still clings in fondness to
the decaying fortress.  A magnificent view of a wellcultivated country is sufficient reward for the climb,
and I hoped to enjoy it, as a good sight of the plains of
India that now knew no Sabbath, but should erelong.
But as I was walking about I was surprised at suddenly
seeing a crowd of people coming out of a building,
close by which some flags were flying. They saw me;
some ran back, the rest caine forward, salaaming at a
great rate. I salaamed back, and the leader came forward and stood waiting. What could I do but bring
forward a little Tamil for their edification? I showed
them what I had and they seemed pleased and showed
me theirs. We were soon good friends.  They were
all boys, and the oldest, about seventeen, was a fine,
pleasing-looking boy whom I took a fancy to at once.
He offered to show me about, so I followed him, asking
all sorts of questions, as well as I could. In the middle of the fort stood an old temple fast tumbling down;
at the entrance was a pillar, mounted by a frame for a
lamp. On two opposite sides were figures of some idol.
It being probably a Mohammedan fort, I thought that
the mark upon the other sides must be the hand, which
makes so large a show in Mohammedan symbols; so I
asked the boy. The only reply was a most contemptuous look and a kick of his foot against the carving.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           209
It was really the mark - a trident - which all followers of Siva wear on their foreheads. He took me inside,
where as usual elephant-headed Pilliyar was enthroned,
and others by his side.  All greasy and disgusting
enough.  The boy was a Mussulman and he and I
could agree on the first article of our creed, - one God.
We walked about, and after a while I sat down and.
tried to talk a little with him. The whole company
stood about mne, except when sent off by the sober
ones for snickering out, as most all did.. I made out
to get at some of his belief; one thing he said was,
"Jesus is your God, Mohammed our God."  I knew
that all true Mohammedans hated the title Son of God,
as applied to Christ, and so purposely used it. He at
once caught me up, and holding up a finger said, —
"Only one God; how is Christ the Son of God?"
My Tamil was not free enough, nor my purpose such
as to lead me to reply, so I turned the subject. He
was studying English, and as I walked off with him,
expressed a wish to have a book. So I invited him to
go to the bungalow with me. Down we went, the
whole troop of us, he keeping all the boys from stepping ahead of me as we walked on. People stopped to
look at us, and it did look not a little droll to see me
heading a company of some dozen little boys or more
into the bungalow-yard.  Mr. Webb had come back
from another street-talk, and I brought him my congregation. He had another talk with them. One thing
the boy told him I never had heard of before. He said
that Jesus, the prophet, had promised a Comforter, and
that the Comforter was Mohammed. Mr. Webb gave
the boy a Testament and he left us, pleasing us all by
his frank and kindly ways.
14




210           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
Time is precious, and at midnight we were all called
up to start on a trip of twenty-one miles to a place called
Karuir. The first stage was twelve miles to the Cavery
River, which we must cross. We poked along, enjoying the jolts, trying in vain to coax a little sleep, until
3.30 A. M., when we reached the bank of the river.
Now for a good touch of Orientalism. How do you
suppose we were to cross? Rubbing our eyes, all we
could see that looked like boats were four concerns —
the most definite term I know -modelled most closely
after that well-known conveyance in which the wise
men of Gotham once sailed. They were four mammoth saucers, made of slit bamboo wicker-work, twelve
feet in diameter, three feet deep. This wicker-work
was covered with thick tough leather, making them almost completely water-proof. The first to enter this
novel boat was Mrs. Webb, in her palanquin; with
many groans the bowl was tipped up on end, and the
palkee walked in. Next came our bandies. How they
could be accommodated seemed a problem. The wind
was very high, and the river swollen, and the head
boatman said that the tops must be taken off the common carts. So they stripped off the mats, and, tipping
up the next boat, backed Mr. Webb in, leaving out the
bullocks. He presented a most laughable appearance,
sitting in his cart, the bare framework looking like a
big cage, and the whole bobbing up and down. Our
turn came next. We stayed in the bandy, though the
matter of boarding was so peculiar. Our spirits kept
up, as we could see no difference in the boat-level, and
we began to have a more favorable impression of Hindu
navigation. The baggage-cart came next, and when all
were safely in, the men climbed in, three into each.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.          211
The Webbs' boat soon disappeared in the dusk. Our
turn came, but we did not fare so well. Three times,
at least, after pushing off, we were driven back by the
wind and current,- as I believe, partly because the
men were unwilling to go. I did n't know any words
for managing such tubs, so I relieved my mind by driving at them in English. I did not at all relish the idea
of spending the day there, as we had eight miles to go
upon the other side before reaching a bungalow. I
cried out to the cook to help off, but he said the wind
was too high. But at last we started again, this time
the men wading and pushing more by hand than by
pole. The river was two miles wide, and we were
three long hours getting over, working up-stream,
and then poling across, shallow enough all the way.
We spun around like tops, and at last reached the
other side.
They landed us in a beautiful grove of cocoa-nut
trees, and Mr. Webb hailed us with a bunch of plantains and a young cocoa-nut, the young milk of which
was delightfully refreshing. Leaving the other carts to
come when they could, we pushed ahead in our bandy,
and before long were at the bungalow, Karuil, a
wretchedly furnished place. We stayed through the
day, and at four in the afternoon again set out for a
night ride of forty-five miles to Dindigal. In five
minutes we came to a river which we had good fun in
crossing. I went in Mr. Webb's cart to try it, and my
bandy went before with Mr. Webb, H., and Sarah.
We left Mrs. Webb to come later. In went the
bandy and bullocks, and twenty men about it, some
hauling the bullocks, some tugging at the wheels, some
pushing behind, and all yelling and screaming and




212           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
hurrahing like mad. Such a droll sight! I just looked on and roared with laughter.  The river is narrow
and shallow, but very swift. With the help of our
friends we crossed safely, not wetting the bottoms of
the carts. We were cheated about our bullocks, and
had miserable sets. I rode in Mr. Webb's cart the
first twelve miles. That is, I pretended to, but we got
worked up about the lazy bullocks; so I got out and
found a bamboo, with which I belabored the beasts,
till I showed them that they could run if they chose,
and for four miles I ran beside them, beating and yelling like any bandy-man. They sobered down again
when I got in, so that toward the end I got out and
ran another mile, and got away out of sight of my own
bandy.  The next stage we arranged ourselves for
sleep, Mr. Webb and Sarah in his cart, H. and I in
mine. But I could not sleep, and these bullocks were
still more stupid. Mr. Webb went ahead, and was
soon out of sight. So I got out about midnight, and
ran along barefoot looking for a stick, and looking out
for snakes. I got in and beat and cried out, but scared
the driver more than the bullocks, and finally gave up.
At four o'clock we came up with the relay, and this
time had good bullocks and a good driver. Four miles
from Dindigal we met Mr. White's bandy come to help
us; soon a man came along to meet us, and, after the
custom of the country, brought us each a lime: if we
receive it we are friends. The native pastor and catechists had been out to meet us, but were going back.
Pretty soon we drove up to the Dindigal house, and
received the welcome of Mr. and Mrs. White. We
had been a few minutes here, when the Christians began to come in, each with a lot of limes, and then they




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            213
brought in garlands of fragrant flowers, which they put
around our necks, so that we were soon decked out
like kings and queens of May. Mrs. Webb came by
twelve, the bearers having given out ten miles back,
after a steady tramp of thirty-five miles. And now we
are all here, the Webbs at home, rejoicing and praising
God that our journey in a strange land is over.
[Dindigal is the station formerly occupied by the
Webbs, now returning to it. Here the others remained a little more than a fortnight, detained awhile
by the non-appearance of the train of bandies containing their goods. Mr. Washburn, whom the reader will
remember as an old and intimate friend of David's, welcomed them at Dindigal, and David returned with him
to his station at Battalagundu, twenty miles distant,
and spent a few days, talking, as he says, " over old and
new days, discussing points in mission work and Tamil
orthoepy and pronunciation." Once at work in India,
the studies which had occupied his mind previously
were carried on by observation and practical acquaintance with the Hindui mind, rather than through much
reading. The results, also, in the views which he
formed, found little expression save in familiar discussion with brother missionaries. He took the opportunity while in Dindigal to make a short preaching
tour with two of the missionaries; but first let him give
an account of the somewhat noted Dindigal rock.]
[JOURNAL LETTEB.]
DINDIGAL, July 31.
Dindi-gal means round rock, so named from the
enormous rock that stands in the middle of the valley.




214           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
Mr. Webb, Mr. White, and I went up it this morning
about half-past five. The rock, from its size and precipitancy, is an admirable natural fortress, very like the one
at Karuir. But the old rajahs built a large and inassive fort upon it, and held it for a long time against
the English. The latter captured it from Tippoo Saib,
and have held it as a garrison until lately; now it is
dismantled, and is utterly desolate. You pass through
a gate which was once the entrance to the'" lower fort,"
enclosing a limited area around the rock, and soon begin to ascend the rock by the stone steps cut in it.
The ascent on this side is very gradual, but on all
others exceedingly abrupt.  I should say it was about
as high as Bunker Hill Monument, though that is a
droll comparison.  [It is the comparison of a Boston
boy, with whom the monument is always the standard
by which he measures height; it is two hundred and
twenty-eight feet high.] A great wall is all around
the summit, and inside are barracks and magazines
and temples, for it was a heathen fort once. Indeed,
we have here a good illustration of Scripture. One of
the temples is utterly robbed of its idols, and nothing is
in it but clouds of bats, which make the air so foul
that no one can enter. But there is little worth seeing
in the fort, except one temple where some fine carving
in granite was pointed out. When the fort was deserted, all the unworthy cannon were hurled off the
precipice to be broken. It must have been a rare
sight to see them crashing down these rocks. The
view from the rock is charming. The hills bound the
view everywhere, some of them only a thousand feet
lower than Mount Washington [6200 feet high]. Right
below are the green rice-fields, checkered by ridges,




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           215
arranged for irrigation. As we sat on the rock, we
could hear the peculiar chant of the water-drawer, as
he walked up and down the well-sweep, while the
smoke curled up to the sky from little villages which
dotted the plain all about.
DINDIGAL, Monday, Aug. 5.
I have been on a tour with Mr. Webb and Mr.
White, leaving on Saturday at 3 P. M..... We visited
Smoke-leaf village [a place where tobacco is raised
extensively]..... It was nearly dark, but we found
the road filled with people who had come to greet Mr.
Webb. We made our way through them, salaaming
on all sides, into the church. The people crowded in
after us, and stayed there, I might say, until we left this
morning. We managed to get them out while we ate
supper, [for the church serves as resting-place to the
missionary, when there is no bungalow,] but every
grated window was full of black faces, grinning with
wonder at our queer proceedings..... At night I
retreated into my box-bandy, but was awaked from
sleep by a confused hum. Listening, I found that the
bandy was surrounded by women and children, who
had given themselves to searching into the construction
of every part. Not caring to be myself fingered over,
I speedily shut myself up, by pulling up the shades, and
then let them look and feel to their hearts' content. I
amused myself by now and then shaking the blinds,
and hearing the young folk scamper away.
I talked in English, and Mr. Webb interpreted. I told the villagers about the houses which
were built in Mammoth Cave for some people sick with
consumption, in the hope that the even temperature of




216           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
the place mightlbenefit them; how, instead, it proved
their ruin, and how I had heard that many people in
India had been led to do just such a foolish thing in
Satan's den, and we had come to bring them a light
and a looking-glass, that they might see for themselves
how badly off they were. I did not see but what they
were as interested as children at home used to appear
at like stories..... These common people speak so
in figures and pithy sentences that it is difficult to understand their drift. Upon Mr. Webb's urging that
he receive the true faith, a man replied, " How can we
know which to follow? Sometimes you put the bandy
into the boat, sometimes the boat into the bandy,"a saying which can mean almost anything, I suppose..... In another village, on Sunday at 4 P. M., we
gathered about us some thirty people, the entire population. Among them was an old, old man, skin and
bones, hardly able to sit upright.  It was a painful
sight, for he sat leaning forward to catch every word
uttered. He heard; can any have done him good?
An old woman, too, was very intent on Mr. Webb's
talk, —a rare thing here. It was a simple gathering,
a few men and women seated on the ground before
three foreigners, away in that poor hamlet, yet in such
ways is mission labor expending.  Mr. Webb and Mr.
White spoke, and the catechist examined the people on
the Lord's Prayer. One man, out of four of the congregation, could stumble through it. It began to rain
as we started home, and forced us finally to spend half
an hour under a cluster of cactus-trees. Tea was ready
on our arrival at the little church, and plenty of spectators..... When the service of preaching was over, the




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            217
work of the day was not. The missionary must now
doff the surplice, and put on the wig.  A court is
speedily formed, and the judge calls for the first case:
it is a quarrel between two members of the congregation about some land. After half an hour's debate,
helped out by anybody and everybody, the judge gives
his decision, which is a complicated one, but apparently
satisfactory to all parties.  One of them is to receive
six rupees as indemnity, and he at once says that he
will give half of it toward a new church in a neighboring village.  Mr. Webb makes them join hands,
and all say Santosham, - Joy, and congratulate one another.... Other cases followed, but I was tired
and moved into my box-bandy. This was a good specimen of the work which a missionary has to do on his
tours.  The people are all children, and they are
poorly brought up too, quarrelsome and unprincipled.
I never in my life felt so strongly the utter inefficiency
of human means toward the accomplishment of the
object of our coming here. Put where I could see for
myself the surface appearance, the first impression was
one of utter despair. I can't convey the grounds of my
feeling; but look at a crowd of native men and women,
see their dull, passionless faces, their staring, stupid,
blank looks, with the marks of devotion to a false faith
patent, - and you ask yourself unconsciously, Can
these stones speak? But I believe a Christian cannot
long remain in this mood; at least I did not, and it was
with a positive sense of exhilaration that I looked upon
them.  There was the massive wall, built by the prime
wisdom of the wicked one, appearing to grow larger
and more portentous as I gazed upon it. I felt indeed
my impotence as never before, but there came over me




218            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
such an exalted view of the simple might of God that
the obstacle seemed already gone. " Who art thou, 0
great mountain? before Zerubbabel thou shalt become
a plain."  I believe this is the natural feeling of one
placed as I was; certainly I felt thankful for it, and
the hour passed pleasantly as I thought how the bare
word of God, if accompanied by the Spirit, could prevail against the whole force of Satan. I thought of my
future field, and how the success of the truth there depended primarily upon our faith in prayer, and I determined to send home for help in this one thing, - help
which you can render us as well as any Christians upon
this side of the globe. We must have it. It will be
long before the India Church reaches the strength of
manhood. But why should we be discouraged? Cal
the labor of fifty years produce in India what the
work of eighteen hundred and fifty years has effected
in western lands? We are wonderfully blessed, when
we think of the paltry means at command. Increase
the agency if you are dissatisfied with present results,
but be not dissatisfied. No missionary thinks of anything else than of giving thanks to God for His wonderful workings.
MADURA, Aug. 12..... At last I am at Madura, the king of cities
and city of kings.  It is the finest city in South India,
and the seat of an ancient and powerful dynasty. But
I must tell you, first, not what the city is, but how I got
here. We left Dindigal on Friday afternoon, August
9, having been detained by the non-arrival of the carts
containing our goods. I went in my bandy.  H. tried
the palanquin, as the road was bad, and a palanquin
was at Dindigal which belonged at Madura. I left at




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            219
5.30 for a drive of thirty-eight miles; bullocks had
been posted every seven miles. H. was to go with one
set of men as far as Vadapatti, sixteen miles from
Madura, and to leave an hour after me. I got along
very well as far as Vadapatti.  There Savarimuttu,
(Xavier Tamilized,) our faithful maty or head-servant,
[who had been engaged at Dindigal,] had gone the day
before to see his family, and I found him with the bullocks. I had told him to wait and accompany H. to
Madura. But I got there first, and what was I to do?
The relay-bearers that I had sent for from Madura
were not there, and H. could not go on without them.
It was midnight. I hesitated awhile, but, confident
that they would come in time, I went on, telling Savarimuttu to take good care of Ammdl, (mistress,) and that
I should send bearers on if I did not meet them on the
road. So, with no little misgivings, I drove ahead.
Nine miles more and we should come to the river
which runs by Madura, and is sometimes quite full. I
should have had bullocks half-way to Madura, but by a
blunder failed to post them. The bullocks were soon
fagged out, and by the time we reached the river were
really ready to drop. It was about half-past three in
the morning, and never a wink had I slept thus far
over this horrible road. The river certainly did not
look very formidable, not more than quarter of a mile
wide, and half of that dry. After a good deal of
shouting and tail-twisting and beating, the bandy-man
made out to get about ten feet forward. The bullocks
then seemed very much inclined to lie down. Not
relishing such an episode in my trip, I thought it high
time to use my powers of persuasion; so I climbed
through the front window on to the driver's seat, and




220           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
took the whip, the driver taking the reins and pulling.
I shouted and yelled, punched and flogged, (I am not
yet an adept in tail-twisting,) while the driver tugged
and tried to cajole the yoke into proper practices;
then he gave me the reins, and I jerked so hard that
something gave way. Was it the bullock's nostril?
fortunately not. Then I whipped off the lash, and
sent the driver fumbling for it in the bottom of the
river, in vain; then I broke the bamboo stock, and
took the reins again. Finally, in despair, I rolled up
my trousers, jumped in, and put my shoulder to the
wheel. This was successful, and we reached the shore
in safety, with the loss of the driver's whip and my
voice. But in the midst of the river I had time
enough to chuckle over the droll figure I cut, and
to think of you orderly people at home.
The bullocks, after that, made out occasionally to
get into a walk, but at daybreak I became discouraged,
and got out, bound to walk into Madura, and scare up
some bearers for poor H. So I walked ahead, looking
at the tall towers of the great temple here, as they
loomed up boldly in front, pointing out where the city
lay. But a mile on I was met by a man driving a pair
of bullocks. He bowed to the ground, and, guessing
his business, I asked him, and found that Mr. Renda.ll
had sent on these bullocks to meet me. So I walked
back to my bandy, and then drove into Madura in fine
style, reaching it a little after six. The first thing to
do was to inquire about bearers.  I found that no
bearers were to be had, as the Rajah of Puthucotta, an
independent prince, was on a royal pilgrimage to the
famous shrines of Southern India, to have his little
girl's hair cut by the temple Brahmans, and he had




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             221
engaged all the bearers for his suite. The only thing
to be done was to send back the bandy and post bullocks for H.; this we did, and she finally arrived. So
we are safely here.
[The new missionaries were most cordially welcomed
by the mission circle here.  With some David was
already acquainted, Mr. Capron, his Andover friend,
residing in Madura at that time; and with all they
were soon at home.  "Indeed," he writes, "it is a
most blessed thing this companionship here. You love
everybody, and feel at home wherever you are." Here
they were to spend the remainder of the year; and
accordingly, as soon as arrangements could be made,
they took possession of a portion of one of the mission
houses, and settled down at housekeeping. It seemed
somewhat like a new beginning of missionary life; how
he looked forward to that life is seen in the following
extract from a letter written during the journey to
Madura.]
[TO REV. S. C. DEAN.]
DINDIGAL, Aug. 7, 1861.
In India at last.... The prayers and hopes of
nine years are fulfilled: is there anything to bring a
shadow  over my face?  India I tread upon; I see
these false gods; I see men bowing to them. I have
the whole, pure word of God in my hand, and the
capacity of speech in my head.  My work is plain and
full in sight.  Onward!.... I went upon a tour
last Sunday with Mr. White and Mr. Webb, and so
had a look into a new phase of mission life and work.
I enjoyed it, and it profited me, I hope, for I was




222            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
brought to look so closely upon this massive wall that
Hinduism  fronts us with, that I felt as never before
how utterly a necessity in our work, to any successful
issue, is the Holy Spirit. But do you never leap at the
sight of towering obstacles, when you see in their presence a new and glorious opportunity for the arm of the
Lord to be raised up? I have felt it somewhat; now
I want it part of my ordinary current of thought and
feeling, never to forget it, and ever thus to pray.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             223
CHAPTER XII.
RESIDENCE IN MADURA.
[AUGUST, 1861-FEBRUARY, 1862.]
[THE seven months spent in Madura were occupied
with immediate preparation for the care of a separate
station. The best portion of the day was devoted to
study, and almost every side of a missionary's life was
learned through practical effort, alone or with the older
members of the mission. The time passed quickly and
most pleasantly.  Madura is the centre of missionary
operations in that district, and beside the acquaintance
which the new missionaries formed with other workers,
the regular meetings of the mission gave an opportunity to acquire a knowledge of missionary organization.  Their life in the city is so variously described
in the following letters, that scarcely any explanation
is needed, and if the reader misses some details of Oriental life, it is because the final establishment at Periakulam seemed the best occasion for introducing them.]
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
SEPT. 16.
Since last Tuesday, one week, the mission meeting
has been held here. It is held once a year, to bring
together all the missionary helpers, hear reports of
stations and recitation of lessons learned during the
year. It is an important and interesting meeting, for
the natives more than for the missionaries. All the




224           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
exercises have been interesting, but one above all, and
of this I must write. By the last mail I received a
letter from Labaree, giving an account of the remarkable outburst of a benevolent spirit in the Nestorian
community.  I read the letter at the monthly concert.
By the same mail came a printed letter from Deacon
Moses, Nestorian, which, I suppose, you have seen.
This letter was read at a religious service, early in the
course of the meeting, and evidently produced a great
impression upon the natives. Its results were soon
felt. Day before yesterday, Saturday, the meeting was
at Pasumalie, three miles from here. I rode out as
early as possible, but was late at the introductory
prayer-meeting.  When I entered I found that something peculiar was passing, and it was not long before
I found out what it was. One of the first things I saw
on entering was a man stooping down and having his
ear-rings pulled out by another; he then brought them
and said he would give them to the American Board.
In fact the scene at Oroomiah was enacting here in
Madura. One man after another rose in rapid succession, spoke a few earnest words, and laid down his
offering.  One catechist took off a silver chain and
gave it. Thereupon one of the missionaries took off
his chain and gave that. The people are poor, and
have little to live on, but they gave nobly. One with
a monthly salary of two dollars gave four dollars. One
man rose, said he had pots and vessels and cloths to
buy, and had only been a month in employ, he would
give twenty-five cents; one just married gave his wedding-ring. The people, you must know, carry a good
deal of their property on their persons, and wear ornaments profusely. One man said he would sell his hen




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           225
and give the price, which he stated to the meeting, but
afterwards got up and said he had valued it a cent and
a half too low, and must add the difference now. Another gave some chickens, another a handkerchief; another gave for his congregation a dollar, but said that
was only a nest-egg, and he hoped that it would bring
one hundred dollars before long with it. One man,
who had been up four times before, giving money and
jewels, got up again, and taking his cloth off, said, "It
has only been to the washerman's twice; I'11 give that."
Another gave a lamp, another a leathern pillow which
he had been making as a specimen of his handiwork.
These are but a few instances of those who gave.
Over a hundred catechists and teachers were present,
and hardly one failed to add something. Above the
interest from giving was that from the feeling manifested. The giving was interrupted by constant and
hearty prayers. This was but a half-hour prayermeeting, and an examination was to follow; but they
all said, "We would rather pray than recite, — this is
not a common day. Let us defer the lessons." How
could the missionaries refuse? This was clearly the
presence of the Spirit; leave was granted, and a young
man arose, the same who had given his wedding-ring,
and said: "God, by Joel, promised to pour out his
Spirit in the latter days; these are the latter days.
Has not the Spirit come?"  Many were weeping over
the house, and missionaries themselves were overcome.
The chairman called for a prayer; two broke out together, and we did not rise before five had poured out
their thanksgiving and supplication most fervently.
Such emotion and such earnestness in prayer are not
often noticeable here. There was no undue excite15




226           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
ment; all was orderly and quiet. One man said,
" Money is no great thing to give, we must offer our
health and strength and praise." Another rose and
with tears began to confess a wrong of which he had
been guilty to his brother. Prayers and offerings were
following each other fast; we had been nearly four
hours together, and dinner-time had come. So we
must stop. We came from the church feeling that
this was a remarkable day indeed, such as has rarely
been known here. Of course the missionaries have to
follow the good example given them, and I know, for the
first time, what it costs a poor minister to give.  One
man gave a cow and a calf, though the calf was not
yet actually existing. One said, " We must not despise
those who give much, for the Lord Jesus has done this."
The meeting brought about three hundred and fifty
dollars, but this has since been raised to about five
hundred, for the people all wanted another meeting
when the women could come. Saturday we had it:
all the school-girls came in, and young and old women
and babies. The meeting began by a nice-looking
woman stepping up and laying down twenty-five dollars for her husband. This is the largest sum given by
any of the natives, and exceeded only by what some of
the missionaries gave. A man got up and began to
read selections from the Bible; they doubtless were
good, but I fear were unheard, for men, women, and
children were pressing up to the table, and laying
down their offerings. Little tots, that could hardly
walk, came up, and old women, who seldom had a cent
in their pockets, came, and gave something so small
that your currency does not recognize it, but which I
doubt not has a value in the kinrrgdom of heaven.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             227
I fear I have made poor work of this most exciting
event, in my narrative of it; let me give you some
idea of this meeting as a whole. I told you the general
object. It is the most stirring scene: one hundred
and fifty catechists, teachers, and pastors come together
to meet the missionaries for mutual help and instruction, -a visible fruit of thirty years' labor. Some of
these men would appear well anywhere, strong characters, zealous Christians, intelligent, quick, well-pleasing. Dressed in their clean white clothes, with their
bright faces and winning ways, you can't help loving
them; set them to singing one of the Tamil lyrics, and
see if you don't feel that their souls are truly quick
with a new life. All the catechists have a course of
study laid out for them for each year, in Church History, Bible Exegesis, Theology, and Mental Philosophy; the teachers have simpler studies.  At this
meeting they are examined as to their proficiency in
the several branches. Each station, too, is reported
through the catechist. They have also a Native Evangelical Society, whose object is the support of the pastors in the mission, and its establishment and successful
progress are an indication that the piety of the native
church is advancing.
The missionaries have also their meetings for business. To-day it was voted that no missionary be sent
to a station before he pass a certain examination. He
cannot, I mean, have charge of any station as his own
till then. Accordingly I cannot have a station assigned me yet. The examination is to be held by the close
of the first year, but as much sooner as the individual
chooses. Mr. Noyes is anxious to have me share his
field by January next; so I shall try to be ready in




228            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
three months. The course is as follows: written examination and oral; Tamil letter, sermon, and prayer;
translation of a chapter in a Tamil story-book; translation from the Tamil gospels; translation from Todd's
" Lectures to Children " into Tamil; conversation with
a native; exposition of some passage, oral. The sermon
will be the hardest, and I shall have to study hard to
get through.  There is little doubt that I shall be stationed at Periakulam, and, indeed, the station was divided to-day.
[TO HORACE E. SCUDDER.]
MADURA, Sept. 19, 1861..... Mission meeting is just over. You would
have been interested in the business meetings. I can
see how residence in a mission may tend to educate one
into a man. You are among equals, and must at once
be independent and yielding.  Important questions
constantly arise, affecting radically the future of the
church in India. Moreover, you are placed in quite
absolute control of a dozen or twenty men and their
congregations, whom you are to oversee, care for, and
train. No slight matter this, and a new-comer would,
I think, be impressed with the soberness which seems to
be the natural atmosphere of a mission meeting. Grave
questions come up, and you cannot possibly shirk them.
I shrink from assuming these responsibilities, and the
mission has put off the day for three months by the
new resolve that no new missionary shall have a station assigned him until he has passed a certain examination, satisfactorily to two examiners. He is allowed a year to study up. The examination is difficult,
but I am preparing for a trial in December next. I




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             229
like the plan, it will raise the grade of qualification.
For one thing I am to be able to translate any of
Todd's stories. I like this part; indeed, it was entered at my suggestion. I begin to look forward to
the preparation of some simple Biblical work for children. My history of Madura Mission too is on my mind.
~.. Oh, H.! do step in and chat, won't you? You hear
nothing but confused native songs, and better, chirps
of crickets.  My fluid lamp burns brightly; it is n't so
very different from home, save the wild song of natives
passing by. I never knew such singers: they sing perpetually. Tell me all criticisms of " Bib. Sacra " articles.
Few enough they will be, and I presume I should be
better critic myself than any of them. But do come
in. How I wish you would. Come, and I'11 show you
heaps of" Types." Do come. Oh that I could see you!
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
SEPT. 20.
I have been to see a temple of Pilliyar at the foot of
Secanda-malie (Iskander- Alexander, or else Scanda,
a Hindui deity - mountain). It lies at the foot of this
enormous rock, well called a mountain. Rising sheer
out of a wide plain, it is a striking feature in the scenery here. It was dark when we went there, and I
have not time to describe what we did see, but it
seemed wild to be groping our way about in this old
building, which the priests were lighting with dim
lamps. The tall pillars, lofty roof, uncouth and fantastic
sculpture, and an elephant or two close by your side,
all impress one most peculiarly. But my first feelings
of curiosity, at the sight of temples and worship of idols,
are fast giving place to a sentiment of disgust and




230            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
aversion. You cannot ride a quarter of a mile in any
direction without coming upon some unsightly, dirty,
filthy image, and to associate that with any sort of
religious worship of human beings is to the last degree offensive to one's feelings. But I am impressed
more with the deep, unfathomably deep degradation of
the people than with their criminality. Criminal they
undoubtedly are; but if we compare them  with the
masses at home, we cannot, I think, deny that the
great condemnation rests upon the latter. According
to Christ, the great fault of men, that of which they
are to be convinced by the Holy Spirit, is unbelief in
Him. Certainly then the strength of unbelief is to
be measured by the weight of opposing evidence, in
spite of which the unbelief is persisted in. Weighed
by this test, the Hinduis are not as culpable as merely
nominal Christians at home. They will be condemned,
if condemned at all, on account of unbelief in a God
who is to the great body but dimly revealed. People
of Christian lands, if condemned, will be so on the
ground that they believe neither the Father nor the
Son, though all evidence possible, consistent with moral
discipline, has been granted.
SEPT. 24.
I have been more than usually saddened to-day by
what I have seen of heathenism. I sauntered out for a
walk about the great temple. I cannot tell you how I
went, or take you with me, without being too minute
now. But entering through the great portico, under a
pagoda which towers up more than a hundred feet,
passing through rows of the goddesses of plenty, before
whom were bazaar-men selling their commodities, I
stopped to look awhile at the huge holy elephants




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             231
which were fanning themselves with banian-branches.
They trumpeted for me, and I left, stepping by a poor
woman who was bowing her head to the stone floor,
and teaching her little child to do likewise; walked by
one side of a famous tank in which men were washing
their clothes, looked at the absurd paintings on the
walls of the covered way, illustrations of local history,
magnified by myth, until I had gone as far within the
temple as unbelievers are permitted to go. When I
reached the spot there was a fearful din of drums and
shrill fifes and noisy conch-shells. In this part of the
temple sunshine never falls, and as it was now dusk,
all that could be seen was by the aid of dim lights. I
had entered by a narrow passage to a broader one leading in the opposite direction, while directly in front
was the passage to the most sacred place, which profane
feet must not pollute. As I turned the corner my eye
fell on a double line of people, thirty in number, standing by twos quite across the passage, with hands
stretched over their hearts, worshipping.  Slipping
into the shadow of a huge pillar I watched them.
They were in front of a little closet-like place in the
opposite wall, - a shrine, large enough to hold three or
four persons; in a sort of sanctum sanctorum was the
image, a rude figure, dressed in flowers. Before it
were two or three persons who were passing and repassing lamps, doing what I could not see. As they
moved the lamps, the people bowed their heads, and
at last, after a grand flourish of lights, the din and
clangor, which were perfectly deafening, ceased, and
the line of people facing about fell flat on their faces
upon  the pavements and then dispersed.  A  like
transaction soon after took place in front of the en



232           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
trance to the grand shrine of the goddess of the temple
hard by.
As I stood thus gazing, close by the worshippers,
yet apart from them, I seemed to have been carried
into the very heart of heathenism. By my side was a
stone bull sacred to Siva, back of me and opposite,
two gigantic statues of deities, smeared with incense
offered, while along the gloomy corridor were figures
carved out of the stone pillars, casting their unsightly
shadows around. I turned and walked along a dingy
pathway, where no sunlight ever comes except in feeble
glimmerings, and which was hardly passable, lighted
by a few dim oil lamps, groping my way before me.
A man dogged my footsteps. I was safe enough; yet
the whole impression of the place, and the knowledge
that many a deed of darkness had doubtless been perpetrated here before now, made me breathe more freely
when I gained the open air, and after a few minutes'
walk caught sight of our Christian church, embosomed
in trees, a silent witness to the truth that there is but
one living and true God.
[A few weeks later, the following incident occurred.]
I took a stroll this afternoon, and walked into the
temple. A crowd followed me as usual, but I did n't
mind it, only not feeling very talkative I kept mum.
Coming to a high place, and standing awhile, I jumped
off, —about six feet, - and left the crowd behind,
much to my relief. I had gone but a rod or two,
however, before I was brought face about by a brickbat breaking on my back. I caught up the pieces,
and my first impulse was to let drive right at the
crowd; but I checked myself, pocketed the insult and
the pieces, and walked back to the crowd, which scat



DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           233
tered fast. I said nothing, but contented myself with
taking a cool survey of all the faces.  They slunk
away, and I walked back again home. I did not even
offer them a piece of advice, but let the whole thing
pass, not caring overmuch, except that I did feel like
flooring the whole cowardly set, as I might easily have
done. I don't know but I was even too pacific. I had
said not a word, - indeed this was my fault, for words
always put these people in good humor. And I take
this as a lesson, for I might have preached a little to
them had I chosen. But the fellow who flung the
brick must have done it with a will, judging from the
effects, for I am quite sore, and only grateful that my
head was not struck, which I doubt not is contrary to
the wish of the one who threw. Well, I suppose that
the people as a whole would be glad to see us all stoned
dead.
[TO HIS NIECE, A CHILD.]
OCT. 1.
DEAR BESSIE, - What makes me think of you on
your birthday, away here on the other side of this
round world? When I left home, your mamma gave
me a little book to read every day. There is one page
for each day in the year. When I opened it, I found
written on the border of many pages the names of different people. What were they? they were the birthdays of all our family. So to-day, when I open this
little book, on the side of the page I read, " Little
Bessie, 1853."  That tells a simple story, and says to
me, To-day Bessie is eight years old.  Now, why
must n't I write her a birthday letter, as well as to my
brothers and sisters and nephews who have n't any
" little" before their name?  Do you see?  I don't.




234           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
Another thing makes me think of you very often
indeed, almost as often as I use my pen; for what is a
pen good for without a pen-wiper, and how should I
have had a pen-wiper if you had n't made me one?
Here it always lies, right before my eyes, the stars and
stripes, with a Faber's pencil holding them up. I
never thought before why you put a lead-pencil for the
flag-staff, but now I guess. Was it not so that when I
should lose all my pens and have no need of a penwiper, I might have a lead-pencil all ready?
Bessie, do you remember the morning we sailed
from Charlestown, how you bade me good-bye, as if
you were sorry to see me go? I do, and I like to think
of it, for it makes me feel you love me and will not
willingly forget me. You can still be my little Bessie
if you are so far away, and you can still do me good.
You know that when men go deep down into the
earth, in a coal or iron mine, they have to be let down
by other men, who hold a rope that passes over a
windlass, and then goes straight down to the bottom
of the mine.  We have come down into this dark
mine to dig out gold and silver and precious stones
for Christ. We have been let down here by Christians at home. They hold a chain which passes up to
God's throne, and then comes straight here. Each link
in this chain is made up of the prayers which one
Christian prays. Now, Bessie, if you pray, you will
add one more link, and that will make the chain
longer, so that we can go farther in, and perhaps find
some very precious jewels for the Saviour. You won't
forget that you have a link to make, will you? and
don't ever let it get broken.
How I wish that you could drop down upon us from




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            235
the skies, or just stop a moment and let the earth
whiz under you till we came to where you were, and
then hop on. I would take you to one famous place
here: it is a temple, and a very large one, larger than
any building you ever saw. I would take you in the
evening, when the priests were lighting the lamps
before the idols.  We pass in through the great gates,
and on each side can just see in the dim light the huge
forms of enormous elephants. These are sacred elephants; and if it were daylight, you could see their
big foreheads all marked with ashes, which the men
put on their own heads as a mark of religion. Step on
a little way, and all at once you come near stumbling
over something on the ground. What is it? it is a
mother and little girl. The mother is flat on her face,
with her hands joined, palms flat against each other,
and she is worshipping a dirty idol in front of her.
Every once in a while she stops and makes the little
girl do just as she does. That little girl, Bessie, is not
as old as you, and yet its mother is teaching it to bow
its little head to an idol. One night, when I was
walking in this temple, I saw quite a number of little
children doing just so, their mothers teaching them.
And so we might walk on through all these dark, dismal rooms and halls, where dozens of idols sit with
lamps burning before them, and all covered with
flowers and oil offered to them. But it is a fearful
place, and we are glad when we get out of doors once
more.
I told you that the people put ashes on their foreheads. It is like the " mark of the beast " which we
read of in Revelation, for it is the sign that the man
who wears them is a heathen; and so, when sometimes




236            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
a man goes back from attending church, instead of saving that he has joined the heathen, we say, "He has
rubbed ashes." One day I was thirty miles away
from  here on a visit.  Some women were at work
there, pounding mortar, - for women do such work in
India.  They stood in a ring around a hole, where
the mortar was, and pounded away as if they were
playing, singing a song all the while. Lots of boys and
girls, some not older than you, were bringing sand
from the river, half a mile off, in baskets on the top of
their heads. There was a brick-kiln close by, where
brick had been burnt, and which was tearing down.
A little girl spied some ashes in the pile; she picked
up about a spoonful, and in great glee ran to one of the
women with it, who rubbed it over the little girl's
forehead, so that it was all white.  She ran and
brought some more, and some of the other girls and
women had ashes rubbed on in the same way. Poor
girls! they knew no better, for their mothers taught
them to do just so. I think you would feel badly,
could you see the little boys and girls here.
I wish I could send you a picture of my horsekeeper's little daughter.  Her name is Kali, which is
the name of a very cruel goddess, who is said by the
people to eat up little children. But she is a nice,
bright-eyed thing. She is just about as old as you are,
but I fancy can do some things that you cannot do.
She has been living here all alone with her father, and
has done all the cooking for him! How you would
laugh to see the little girls here, with their odd dresses
and the holes cut in their ears for rings! And I am
sure you would like to go to church, and see the rows
of school-girls, with Bibles and hymn-books in their




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           237
laps, looking neat and happy, showing their shiny
teeth, that look so brightly from their black faces.
But you must really come, if you want to see all the
sights, for I can't begin to put them on paper.
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
OCT. 5.
This afternoon I went to the temple where
the money-changers and bazaar-men generally resort,
as in Solomon's of old. I was desirous of looking at
certain books on philosophy..... On the way I saw
a game which some boys were playing, which really
was very ingenious.  A famous festival is close at
hand, and these were training for that. A dozen boys
were dancing in three concentric rings, each having
two sticks, which he alternately beat together and
upon the stick of his next neighbor.  The outward
ring danced round the fastest, so that a boy in the
middle ring had three boys in the outer one to play
with. They took three or four steps, and then back
again. This is quite common; but they played another
game for my pleasure: it was in two parts, a war-dance
and a hunt. Each boy was armed with a sword in a
sheath and a shield. They danced in three lines, dancing
two and then back, brandishing their swords, beating
them now on their own, now on the next one's shield,
who turned round to receive it, backward and forward,
spinning on their heels, bobbing down and springing
up; then drawing their swords and each choosing his
opponent, round and round they whirled, singing a
song and keeping music all the while to bells ringing.
It was really a pretty sight.




238            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
[TO HORACE E. SCUDDER.]
MADURA, Oct. 16, 1861.
The last mail fairly stuck out with good
things; but what gave the cream to the letters was the
appendices, announcing that the communication between America- no, Home and India was perfect.
[The letters were written upon receipt of the first letters
from India.] I can't put on paper the quick feelings
of that hour; it was almost as blessed a gift to us as
our first letters must have been to you. I read and
re-read mother's and S.'s notes, and laughed and cried,
paced our veranda, feeling that I was indeed in India:
no more hopes or fears: we were here, everything
about me spoke of it, and fixed for life.  Oh, I did
long for one look in upon you! I craved fuller description of the scenes when the letters came.
[TO SAMUEL H. SCUDDER.]
MIADURA, Oct. 19, 1861.
You must let me know what special books
you are studying, what particular insect you are cocking your microscopic eye at. India does not come up
to my idea in the way of Nature. There are very few
birds within the limits of my observation, very little
beautiful foliage or bloom, very few insects. I certainly have been struck rather by the absence even
of the latter than by their presence. I have bottled
and canned a few things.  To-day I put in a tiny
squirrel to rest lovingly upon the body of a big snake.
A pretty mess you will find.  But if you wish, I can
get any quantity of fish from the rivers. These tanks
are marvellous. In the hot season most are completely
dry; but in a very few weeks after the rain falls, you




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            239
can get fish for the table. Go out any morning, and
you see the brooks and tanks lined and covered with
fishermen casting their queer little nets, and fumbling
along in the mud with their hands to catch the diminutives.  At night you meet the same coming home,
dressed up in their nets, their baskets on their heads,
and their nets hanging from the baskets, making a
fiinge all round their bodies, - a droll sight.
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
OCT. 25.
I have commenced street-preaching.  Now
this sounds important and looks bold, but it is less of
both, or both in a different way from what you fancy.
I have been feeling for some time that I might be doing
more than I was for the heathen. I knew that I could
not do much, but the assurance that it was not the
multitude of words or fluency of utterance that achieved
the result in view has been often before me, and I determined to break the ice and to do it alone. So a few
mornings since, armed with a pocket full of tracts and
my pocket Tamil Testament, with a mark at the story
of the Prodigal Son, I sallied forth, I will confess, with
some uneasiness. I chose a little village that I had noticed one day aside from the main road. By the way,
there are plenty of such places in and about the city;
if you step just outside of city limits, you can turn into
almost any footpath which will bring up in a village.
I waded over a brook on my horse, walked into a village and through it, adding at each step another to the
train of followers. At the other end was a little open
space with a raised platform. I halted and the people
stood about, looking at me as if I had been Cortez and




240           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
they Indians of the West. I began by asking the name
of the village; receiving a satisfactory reply, I asked
them if they would like to hear a story. You see I
could n't enlarge much upon any topic, and my transition from one to another was necessarily abrupt. However they assented, and I, pulling my Testament out,
read to them the parable.
This I could do tolerably well, and they all listened
quite attentively. After that was over I told them that
God was our father; that we had all sinned against
Him. "We are all sinners," said I.  "Yes," said a
man, "you are a sinner."  This was meant for a sally
of wit I suppose, but I of course said a hearty Amen
to it. Then several burst in with - ", If we worship
your God, will he give us clothes and corn? " to which
I could only reply, stammering, that the right heart
was better than food or clothing. I was about exhausted as to available material for conversation, so
taking out my tracts I distributed to those who could
read, and turned toward home with a light heart, not
because of my success in talking, but because I had
tried to do some good; that cheered me.
The next day I went in another direction, but found
no village. However, as I was examining a deserted
temple, some men came near and I asked them what
idol was worshipped there. They told me it was Pilliyar; and I then asked why they prayed to such
an idol. " Oh," they replied, " our fathers and mothers did and so must we; it is custom." I replied
that if their parents had a bad custom they ought not
to follow it. " If they were thieves must you be?"
and then asked them why they prayed to a god which
could not hear.  To that they answered nothing;




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            241
whether the question struck them or my poor Tamil
posed them I cannot say, but I fear the latter. I gave
them some tracts and rode home.
Now these two occurrences are not specially remarkable, but they are interesting to me. One great part
of my work ought to be to go out into the highways
and hedges and compel these people to come in. It is
not in itself a very pleasant thing, yet if one is willing
to be a laughing-stock for his awkward speech and his
unloved doctrines, it is not difficult; and when wethink how much more fitting pity is than anger, it
seems an easy thing thus to speak. The word of the.
Lord is to be preached as a witness, - the field is to be
sown, dropping one seed at a time, - if my ungrammatical words are vain, yet I can read, and I hope
to keep the practice up.  Moreover it is a decided
benefit to my Tamil.  The two objections which I
met are characteristic ones, ones most potent with
the people: Custom rules everything, and the Bellyis the God.
[LETTER TO SUNDAY-SCHOOLS.]
MADURA, SOUTH INDIA, Ot.. 29, 1861.
MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS, - My first letter to
you from India was dated " Dindigal." This was the
first missionary station which we reached in coming
from Madras. This second letter I write to you from
Madura, which we will call the capital of our missionary country. Please look this place out on the map,
so that you may know exactly where it is. It is quite
a large city.  But all the missionaries do not live
here, any more than all the ministers of Massachusetts
live in Boston. There are twelve of us, but only one
16




242            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
lives in Madura.  The others are in towns around
this, twelve or sixteen, or thirty or fifty miles away.
If we would preach to the heathen, we must go to
them, for they will not come to us; and as some of
them live a good way off, we go in carts, or on horseback, to see them. Last night I came home from a trip
of three days, which I took with an older missionary;
as I was riding back on my little pony I thought I
must write you a letter about some of the strange
things which I had seen; and here it is.
Bright and early on Saturday morning I started off
on my pony, and after losing my way among the
rice-fields, at last found the village I was looking for,
about eight miles from Madura, and there met Mr. Burnell, who had come from his home, ten miles in the other
direction, to preach to the people in this village. We
went into one of the school-houses, where is a school
for boys and girls, such as you pay for. There we sat
down in some chairs that were brought to us, the only
chairs, I suppose, in the village; for, you know, all the
school-children and teachers sit right down in the sand
which is the floor. The school-house, like all others,
had mud walls and a straw roof. We heard the little
boys recite their lessons in geography, Bible questions,
and other studies. One lesson they had which you will
think a strange one. They have to learn the dictionary by heart! They say off the words and give the
meaning to them just as fast as they can talk; they
sing them off, for their books are written in a sort of
rhyme.
After we had heard the lessons, we had a meeting
for the old people; for this mud house was the church,
as well as the school-room. As the people were com



DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            243
ing in, I saw a poor-looking woman, with a baby in her
arms, climbing over a high wall and taking a seat outside the house on the ground. What do you suppose
she was climbing over the wall for, when there was a
wide door and plenty of room inside? It so happened
that there were three or four men, not richer perhaps,
but of a higher " caste " than herself, and she was afraid
that if she passed near them they would be angry, and
scold at her, or beat her. In this heathen land all men
are not equal, as we say they are in America; but
there are a great many different classes or castes. It
is thought a sin for any two people of two different
castes to eat together.
After preaching in this place we went to visit some
of the people in their houses. While we were in one
of them, we heard a dull, heavy, drum-like sound.
"There," said Mr. Burnell, "there is a Kodangki;
shall we go and see him? " A Kodangki; what is that?
He is a soothsayer, or magician, or prophet who tells
fortunes and professes to tell where anything is which
has been lost, - to be able to cure sick people, — to
drive the devil out of them, - to make it rain, and to
do many other things for a little money. The poor
heathen believe he can do all these things, and many
are the pennies that they place before him. As I had
never seen one I was glad to go. We found the wise
man sitting by the door of a devil-temple next to his
own house. He was a young man and fine looking.
He had white ashes rubbed on his forehead. In his
hand was a drum, shaped like an hour-glass, and from
this little drum hung a belt, and on this belt dangled
lots of glass beads and sweet-smelling seeds of fruit.
It has not rained here enough to make the rice grow,




244           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
and he was singing to the god to bring the water. He
stopped a little while after we came in; and then Mr.
Burnell, after talking to him, took out a dollar from
his pocket and said, " I will give you this if you can
tell me what I write on this paper." He wrote my
name in Tamil and put the paper away. The man
looked rather ashamed, but began to call on his gods.
He thumped on the drum, and sucking in his breath
till he grew red in the face, sang in a loud voice, crying out to the gods to tell him the secret. After puffing and singing about a quarter of an hour, he gave
the answer: " You have written," he said, "about a
man that people in America are disputing about."
When he found how wrong he was, he did n't seem to
care much, for he knew that the people, who were
around him, would believe him, even if he did guess
wrong. And sure enough, we had only just left the
house when we heard him thumping his drum again, as
some one had come to get him to bring the rain down.
The next day was the Sabbath, and it was my first
birthday in this heathen land.  In the cool of the
morning I went away from the noise of the village,
and lay down on the grass, with the sky above, which
looks the same all over the earth, and in full view of
the mountains, which made me think of the mountains
I knew at home. Then I thought of my far-off friends,
my father and mother and brothers and sisters, and I
knew that they would think of me too this day. I
tried to pray that God would make me a faithful servant of His, in this land to which I had come to preach
His word. Will any of you ever spend a birthday in
a heathen land?
That day we preached and talked to the people, as




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           245
all missionaries do every Sabbath-day.  I must not
forget to tell you that a poor woman, who had no
money, brought in, as her weekly contribution, a
wooden bowl of grain. So the next morning we had
a little auction and sold it. It brought just one cent,
a small sum, but large, I doubt not, in the eyes of the
Saviour.
Monday morning we rose before daybreak, so as to
go to a famous temple.  After riding about an hour
we came to it. We were not sorry to see that many
of the buildings around it were tumbling down. Do
you remember hearing how the little banian-seed, lodging between the stones of a temple, takes root and
grows, till it splits the rocks and one by one they fall
to the ground? Just so it was here; great temples had
crumbled into ruins, looking far more pleasing to us
than when they were all whole with a greasy idol
within. But there was one temple still in use, and it
is a famous one. We were walking in to see what was
inside, when a man, and then three or four others,
rushed to us, saying, " Go back; go back; you can't
come here." " Why not? " " Oh, this is a holy place! "
So we went back. We then went into another place,
swinging open two enormous doors, over thirty feet
high and a foot thick. A man tried to keep us from
going in, but we pushed ahead. What do you suppose
his reason was?  "Why," said he, "you are white
people, and can do anything; but if a black man
should go in there without leave, he would never come
out alive." It is a sacred place. There the people go
who want to make vows. They take an oath, and
throw sandal-wood up against the doors, and then
never dare to tell a lie.




246           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
We went up into a high tower of the temple, where
we could see a long way off. Mr. Burnell shouted out
to the people below, "Christ's kingdom  shall come;
and all the idols he shall destroy." So it shall come,
we believe, if we do what our Saviour commands us
to do.  But we must work hard. "I would rather
have my throat cut than be a Christian," said a man a
few days ago.
Pray much, children of the Sabbath-school; and if
God permit you, come out to this or to some other
heathen land, to tell the people yourself of Christ.
Now when people write letters they expect answers.
Won't you answer this and cheer up your friend?
DAVID C. SCUDDER.
[TO D. T. FISK, D. D., NEWBURYPORT, MASS.]
MADURA, Nov. 5, 1861.
I am indeed in India, and somewhat better
acquainted with it than when my ship-letter started off
in search of you. And I am in Madura, the metropolis of this missionary kingdom. It is already a home
to me. I thread the narrow passages of this Oriental city with as much familiarity and nearly as much
indifference as you would Boston. The queer capers
of naked urchins kicking up the dust, lines of men,
women, and children, all bearing the mark of the devil
emblazoned on their foreheads, idols, shops, temples,
have all lost their novelty, while if you could be set
down here directly from Newburyport, without stirring a
step you would find food enough for a long day's wonlderment. I was thinking to-day of a commonly accepted
idea among missionary circles at home, and which I
once often broached, viz: that it was well that new



DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            247
comers could not open their mouths for a while, since
thus they were not in danger of hurting people's feelings unintentionally. Now this may be true of other
countries, but nobody need fear, on the first day of his
arrival, speaking boldly of Christ if he is able to.
Common sense is enough; a few weeks' stay gives one
a reasonable acquaintance with native character.
There are some phases of native character which I
think one does not anticipate. Such, for instance, is
their utter deadness of spirit, and sensuousness.  Go
out and meet any company of heathen, urge upon them
the duty of worshipping God. " Who has seen him?
Will he fill our belly? We do as our fathers did," are
the three stock answers, always at hand, satisfactory to
them, unblushingly presented. What special part of
our theologic training has fitted us to meet such objections? They are so utterly low that it is hard to get
down low enough to meet them on their own ground.
The country has been suffering much from lack of
rain. I don't know how many times I have been met
by the question, - "Will he give us rain?" while
the processions that pass our door with sheaves of grain
to be offered to the river-goddess show where the heart
of this people is.
I wish you could mount your pony and ride out with
me some morning about sunrise, to see whom we might
meet, drop a tract and attempt a little advice. It is a
motley group that gathers around you when you stop,
all respectful, but none sympathizing. They meet your
words with an incredulous smile and always have some
reply at hand. You may talk on and they will listen;
they hear as if they listened to a story or talk about
crops; rarely can you feel that one is moved a whit by




248            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
any sayings of yours. Such is the work that lies before us: to proclaim the truth whether men will hear
or whether they will forbear. Discouraging as it is,
you find people who have many pleasing traits about
them, who are ready to assist you in any way, always
pleasant, quiet in their demeanor, amiable, lacking only
the one thing. I can't help loving them. The children I like, particularly the boys. Bright-eyed little
chaps, they are as fond of frolic as any Christian children, and their sports always please me.
A thorough missionary's work here is, indeed, different from pastoral labor at home. He has a church to
care for, but his time is occupied with petty troubles.
Four-fifths of his time often, or nearly that, he is away
from home, living in mud school-houses, sleeping in his
cart, or in a native rest-house, preaching morning and
evening in the wretched villages, and having the day
occupied with calls; no retirement, no leisure.  A
faithful missionary leads a roving life. It is self-denying. One of our most zealous tourists has travelled
incessantly in his field for four years past with scarcely
appreciable result; result, I mean, in conversions. It
surely is a result that almost all the villagers in his district know in a measure the leading features of Christianity. The sowing of the seed alone is our duty..... How many lines of study I should delight to
pursue, were I in America.  Here one has precious
little spare time for reading, and it is next to impossible
to study upon sermons, as you would for a New England audience, when you have to preach in the most
simple style possible. It is really painful to visit any
of the villages where people have put themselves under
instruction, and see how sadly ignorant they are of even




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             249
cardinal points of the faith.  Then again you have
occasion to rejoice when a candidate for the pastoral
office presents himself, as one did at the last general
meeting, who has come directly from  among  the
heathen, and merely by his private study of the Bible
has attained views of the truth surprisingly clear and
mature, even discriminating between faith and works
as neatly as a practised theologian. Such preachers
we want, taught of God as they clearly are.
[TO REV. CHARLES R. PALMER, SALEM, MASS.]
MADURA, Nov. 13, 1861..... ZHere is this great, heathenish city, where
idolatry and every crime flaunt you in the face.
When will it be overpowered and made a city of the
Great King?  The question forces itself repeatedly
upon you as you listen to a missionary address a crowd
in the streets, and see the unmoved or scornful faces of
the people who stop to hear this doctrine. Slow work,
and what we need above all things is more faith in the
might of God that is to conquer. I am as comfortable
and happy as if I were at home, though I do so long at
times to have a good long look at the dear faces left
behind. I am surprised at the climate: I suffer more
from chilliness than from heat; at the water, too cool
to need ice; at the people, amiable, obliging, interesting; at all, in fact, which affects one's happiness here.
One can enjoy life with as little sacrifice of personal
feeling, if lie choose, as at home, or nearly so. Perhaps, however, I should feel less contented had I no
object beyond living. But you must not think of me as
a martyr at all, or as necessarily very good for staying
here. But there is the fact of the terrible degradation




250            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
of this people that does oppress one, — such hovels as
some of them do live in, and so far removed do they
appear from the possibility of renovation.
[TO SAMUEL H. SCUDDER.]
MADURA, NOV. 15, 1861..... What a dear old man father is! Somehow
or other he is losing his paternity, to me in particular,
in my thoughts; he is gradually looming up as the
impersonation of the true Father, always venerable,
yet always endowed with the gift of youth, benignant,
and constantly wearing a face full of sweet content and
quiet joy. I believe I am sort of deifying him. Now,
that's nonsense, I suppose, but the more I think of it,
the more I wonder at father..... But, dear me!
I must stop; I can't say anything, and it makes me
almost cry to write anything.
[TO HIS SISTER.]
MADURA, NOV. 16, 1861... Though I am in India, I have not run away
from all my troubles. I still have fits of blues much as
of old. I might as well give up attempting to excuse
myself, and say that I am both a sinner and a fool. I
am afraid to go out in the morning and talk, though
there is nothing which should deter a really zealous
man. I find, too, that I am not so quick at catching
by ear as I hoped I might be. I may possibly not
judge myself fairly, but at any rate I feel a reluctance
toward engaging in conversation with any one, which
acts directly as a hindrance against my learning to talk.
It requires a strong resolve to set me at talking. When
once in my own station, may God help me to be faith



DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            251
ful! Grace can do what nothing else can, and I feel
deeply that I need, more than aught else, a thorough
hold on Christ, and the possession of all the animating
thoughts connected with such faith as shall naturally
quicken me in work.
[TO HIS FATHER.]
MADURA, Nov. 28, 1861.
Is it Thanksgiving-day at home? It is here, for the
mail is in, and your letter has come. Let me with all
my heart applaud that determination of which this letter from you is the earnest, of keeping a sort of journal
for us to read. It is exactly the thing, - the one of all
others that we need,- a connected account of affairs,
into which all other private special notes, however long,
shall fall and find their place..... Dear father, it
does make us very happy to think of you as happy too.
I certainly feel it matter of devout thankfulness that
your peace of mind has not been broken by losses.
There is no picture in the whole home group that is so
bright and blessed to me as that of you, and mother
with you. You know I am no hand to put down or
speak out all I feel, but your mere existence is a joy to
me that I can't possibly express. There seems to be
absolutely nothing in my lot to detract from my perfect happiness..... I don't know of a single privation that we suffer, which we feel, except such as are
incidental to being away from home. Our circle is
a very pleasant one, and we are becoming more and
more interested in it, and shall soon have plenty of
work to do. We do need most deeply the supplications of friends in our behalf, and not the least because
we have even here so many earthly props. No con



252            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
junction of circumstances, I find, can force a man to
become a saint.
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
Nov. 20.
The most noticeable event in nature lately is the
"coming down " of the river. " The river is down "
is the common phrase here to denote, not that it is low,
but high, and it is a fit word. Day before yesterday,
in the bed of this river, half a mile wide, was only a
channel of water a rod or two across; now, the river is
full from bank to bank. The late rain (for this is the
rainy season) has filled the river in a day and night;
not so much, however, the rains here as those up the
stream. This is the crowning blessing of the rainy
season. All the main tanks are fed by the river, and
if these are not supplied, there is no water for the rest
of the year, or none of much account.  You may
readily conceive of what inestimable value the rains
are to this people, and it is no wonder that in their
worship they make so much of prayer for rain. The
tanks are large enclosures, with mud embankments, of
various shapes and sizes, some of them two or three
miles in diameter. These are supplied by the annual
rise of the river, and the water is kept carefully
guarded, being wholly under the charge of the several
village authorities, who apportion so much time for
drawing water to each separate field. The whole system of irrigation is very strictly arranged.  Just now
the fields of rice look most charmingly. I never saw
so rich a green, and you can look in some directions
for miles with scarce a break in the soft carpeting.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            253
[TO REV. SIMEON WOODIN, FUH CHAU, CHINA.]
MADURA, Nov. 27, 1861..... NWell, how do the mild-eyed, pig-tailed
Chinese suit your notion of the true, beautiful, and
good? Is it possible to penetrate behind the skin, and
really find a human heart? I always think of a Chinaman as enclosed in a sort of porcelain wrapper, smooth
enough, but forbidding any but the most gentle handling. Is there anything to love there? or do you have
to suppose a substratum really lovable, but imperceptible to mortal ken? The Chinese seem a class thrust
aside from other mortals, differing in toto ccelo from
all others of the human race. Such an uncouth language, such a singular polity, such an unexampled potpourri of religious faiths, where one may take his pick
or swallow the whole.  They certainly are an interesting study. By the way, do you expect to save your
shreds of time for study of the people? Some of your
celestial missionaries have brought the world under
obligation by their labors; shall you join their circle?
Which rule of faith appears to you to have strongest
hold upon the people? Do Buddhists look toward
India with anything of veneration as the birthplace of
their faith? Do they hold at all, nowadays, to their
old metaphysical dogma of annihilation as the blessed
end of all four evils?  Nirvana?  I have looked into
Indian Buddhism a little, and have found a good deal
to interest; certainly its system of ethics is far beyond
anything that Brahmanism has ever been able to
propound.
What a beehive must be constantly buzzing about
your ears! We have no such swarms of people here,
I fancy, as you describe. Indeed, the country does not




254            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
seem to be over-populated, though hamlets are scattered
thickly here and there. I am glad you take so kindly
to your adopted tongue. Forgive me iny cruel aspersions upon its character. I can hardly believe yet that
Hindui children can whisper and laugh and chat as
readily in Tamil as I can in English. Are there any
such things as native Christian lyrics among you? A
great step for Christianity has been taken here by
bringing forward native Christian poetry. The people
sing native melodies with a will, but foreign importations with difficulty.  Do any of your missionaries
speak Chinese as fluently as they do English? Such
is not an uncommon thing here. I find my previous
study of Tamil a solid help..... A spirit of benevolence has come upon us, new here, and evidently from
above. But the work of conversion is slow in progress,
and the people are deplorably low in their state. It is
utterly disheartening to labor among them, if one
does not look for help beyond himself. The Christianization of a people who for generations upon generations
have been descending in the stage of morality and religion, must itself be a work of many generations. God
moves slowly, but time is nothing to Him.  We can
only watch and adore.
[TO REV. CHARLES NEWMAN.]
MADURA, NOV. 27, 1861......Put far out of your fancy any notion of tropical luxuriance hereabout. There is no rankness save
that of countless goats and sheep too scant to shear.
Grass grows in clumps. Blossoms, driven from the
bosom of earth, are fain content to show themselves on
high trees. Not a bird in these regions is there that




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           255
could outshine or outsing a home thrush or honest
robin.  Animals look like scarecrows.  Elephants
lopped off behind, camels with broken backs, hairless
dogs, buflaloes that seem to have been formed from surplus mud, hump-backed cows and oxen, and last and
least poor donkeys that hobble about, leading a wretched
life between the washer-men who load them down with
bundles that turn all their joints out and me who impound them for trespassing on my grass. No, if you
want to see Nature in her best attire, don't come out
here, at least not if you are to be a dweller on the
plains. Give me sturdy New England. An hour's
drive in any part will show you more beauty than I
have seen thus far here. " Only man is vile," is a vile
slander on that abused individual. Man is the only
redeeming feature in the scene, and because he can be
redeemed.
Now the heathen may set me down as highly magnanimous, for only yesterday, while walking in the
temple, one of them took the occasion to break a brickbat over my back, succeeding in his endeavor, but almost breaking me. That temple is a fearful place, the
gloomiest, most dread-inspiring of any hole I was ever
in. The bats have occupied it before their time; and
what with their stench, and the filthy odor from offerings and incense, the pitchy darkness, and the stealthy
tread of worshippers coming and going, some parts of
it seem to border close upon the lower regions. One can
imagine almost any deed of darkness as having been
perpetrated there in years past, and, for aught I know,
in the penetralia where no profane foot may walk
such deeds are done now; certainly licentiousness riots
there and no one can say nay. Oh, this heathenism is




256            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
a fearful thing; you dislike to look into it to explore
its secrets, for you feel almost certain that there is no
wickedness which is undiscoverable there, and that
could you fathom all its depths and penetrate all its
hidden recesses, forms of crime would meet you that
you never dreamed of or thought man capable of committing.
In such a state of society how can we look at once
for a pure, spotless church? The family is no longer,
or not yet, the sacred spot that it is at home. It is
impossible to guard a child from evil as one may at
home. As far as we can, we encourage the forming
of Christian communities in villages where Christianity
has made any progress, though we are glad too to have
a genuine Christian testifying for Christ among the
heathen where He was found. In certain cases one
should abide in the spot as well as in the calling
wherein he was called.  It is a pleasant thing to find
here and there a faithful laborer for Christ, and to hear
the testimony of his faithfulness from the heathen.
The other day as I was out with a missionary we came
across a man and had a long talk with him. He finally
said - "Abraham has told us all about this." Abraham was a poor man, an out-caste, not allowed to have
his dwelling near the other villagers, but living on a
rocky hill with others of his own position. Two years
ago he came to Mr. Rendall and asked to be baptized.
Mr. Rendall examined him, but to all his questions he
got but one reply, " I am a sinner; Jesus died for me."
He did not refilse the poor man's request; and from
that day Abraham, as he was named, has preached in
his poor, but acceptable way, to the people of the village. Thus here and there the gospel penetrates; we




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             257
sow the seed, it shoots up and runs along, and shoots
again, and so it will continue to, we believe.
Our work in form is not materially different from
yours, but how widely different are the fields we cultivate.  We see, when the truth takes effect, another
proof of the mysteriousness of that process by which
the soul accepts the truth and is changed by it. It is
a process whose nature theology does not teach. How
utterly hopeless heathenism  is!  I was reading the
other day, in a book comparing Hindtuism and Christianity, of the characteristic traits of the contrasted
faiths.  The element of the Christian or Biblical religion inl all its history was Hope. But of the lack of
that in Hinduisim  I had an instance at sight yesterday.  As I was walking through a street I heard a
loud, mournful wailing. Looking into the house whence
it issued I saw a sight that really touched me. Three
elderly women sat on the floor facing each other, with
their arms closed round each others' necks; thev were
swaying to and fro, with their heads bowed, and pouring forth most doleful lamentations.  Some one had
died in the house, and they were thus giving vent to
their grief. In that death there was no hope; no relieving feature in that departure from  earth.  The
people dislike to think of it. Speak to them of their
certain death at some future dav, and they start back
with an involuntary cry, thinking the mere mention of
the name of death an ill omen to them.
Let me sketch a day's life.  I rise at six,
bathe, order pony, mount and ride two or three miles
out, planning to stop in some of the countless mud
villages at hand and try my Tamil in preaching a little.
A crowd of twenty or more soon collect, I hand them
17




258            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
tracts and ask some simple question. There is no lack
of answers, for such a people to talk I never did see.
I have never met a native yet who, if ordered to
preach a sermon on the spot before a large audience,
would not do it with the greatest possible ease. After
talking awhile, and becoming sufficiently confused by
replies and counter-questions, wholly unintelligible to
me, I return home to a cup of tea and slice of toast at
seven. Then after studying either Genesis or Matthew
an hour or so, we sit down to breakfast at nine. After
breakfast Tamil prayers with servants, which I am just
beginning to lead. Then I study Tamil stories, write
on sermons and do like work until four o'clock, dinnertime, the interval being broken by tiffn (luncheon)
at one.  At half-past five we order our American
rockaway, and H. and I drive off on some of the numerous hard, broad, pleasant roads, to get a long breath
of pure air, and a freshening view of fields and clouds
and hills.  We can see the towering Pulneys fifty
miles westward, and numerous other lesser hills skirt
nearly the whole horizon. Then comes tea, if we take
any, as we have not to-night, and after tea always letterwriting home. This routine is broken up Thursday
evening by a prayer-meeting, occurring alternately at
the three houses near each other, and by Sunday. On
Sunday I attend Tamil service at church in morning,
and did at one time hear some boys recite in Sundayschool. In the afternoon I ride out with Mr. Rendall in
his ox-bandy to some village near by, where he has a
congregation. He gives the meeting to me, and I then
and there expound before a poor set of people who
form the congregations.  So I stammer along.....




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            259
[TO REV. EVARTS SCUDDER.]
MADURA, Dec. 6, 1861..... To-night I ought to feel in just the mood for
talking with home friends, for we are fairly alone in
our house, the first time in six weeks. So we are sitting
in our hall, all doors open, - no windows in the house
you know, - H. by me just beginning to write. S.'s
vase is the prominent object on the table, topped as it is
by a pyramidal bouquet and set off by a dish full of flowers by its side.  " Rivers of France " lies by it, and our
book-rack, with "Palfrey's New England," "Oxford
Essays," "Irving's Knickerbocker," " Shedd's Augustine," " Lyra Domestica," " Companions of My Solitude," and so on, to set it off, and show our daily
reading.  Our famous fluid gas-lamp casts a genial
glow over the whole, while the old eight-day clock
ticks familiarly from the wall. What a good time we
would have could S. and you and Charley drop in on
us. It is really home within these walls, though the
thud! thuddety-thud! of a sorcerer comes to us on the
evening breeze, as he beats his drum not far off, and
dins heathenism into our ears..... My reading is not particularly elevating. I
translate Todd's stories into Tatnil and Tamil stories
into English. The latter are generally barren enough.
One of the best I met with to-day. Two swans and a
turtle wanted to migrate from  a tank, but the turtle
said he didn't know how to go. So the swans told
him to take hold of a stick with his mouth, and they
would carry him between them, but they charged him
not to talk on the way. As they were flying with him
over a village, the people saw them and laughed. The
turtle hearing the great noise forgot the charge, and




260            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
asked what it was; whereupon, having opened his
mouth to talk, down he dropped and was speedily
extinguished.  "So," is the moral, "will it be with
all who do not heed fiiendly advice."
I keep a book to note down impressions and
facts, and whenever I put one in, I think to myself
how will this sound twelve years hence in a speech at
home?  You see home is not all lost to me. I am as
happy here as I ever could be at home, and if I choose
to avail myself of them there are opportunities for usefulness, equal at least to such as meet you.
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
DEC. 20.
In my last entry I said " news is rare, nowadays."
But times have changed.  There is a wee bit of news
which I may communicate to the home public. It is
in the shape of a little girl who has dawned upon our
Indian home during this past week. It is a very awkward position to put a man in, this of chronicler of
such an event. One is in danger of exaggerating the
importance of the occurrence and its destined effect
upon the fortunes of the world, when he is himself an
interested party. Besides, what can one say about such
a small matter as this particular one is. It has of
course been duly weighed and compared with all other
babies, and positively declared to be the crowning baby,
and to resemble remarkably both sides of the house.
But I find some drawbacks to its perfection. It has a
most unaccountable faculty at sleeping, and the utter
coolness with which it drops asleep night and day is to
me perfectly appalling, suggesting most unhappily the
fat boy in Pickwick. Pray, do all babies indulge thus?




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             261
aind do they think there is nothing better to do? I
think this baby takes after its father, who would indulge in the same, if he dared.  It is the fashion here
to advertise your babies, so the first duty which I had
to attend to was to write notes indefinitely, announcing
the arrival of a new member in our circle. Replies
of congratulation are pouring in, and with them all
sorts of knicknacks for baby.
[If the last letter contained the only announcement
of the birth of my brother's child, one might be surprised, knowing his temperament, at the matter-of-fact
way in which it was made.  But this was a letter for
general circulation among his friends at home; he had
already given vent to his feelings in a previous special
letter to his mother, brimful of the most grotesque expressions; in that he capered about the subject with
the most amusing mental antics, laughing and half
crying by turns; and afterward in private letters he was
running over with glee whenever he began to speak
of his child, which was not seldom, as may be guessed.
Even in his more public letters he had sometimes to say
what he wanted to, but generally he practised a reasonable restraint which I follow with some reluctance.
I have not thought it necessary to print the frequent
comments upon the progress of the war in America.
When the missionaries landed at Madras they were
first made aware of the breaking out of hostilities, and
with every fresh intelligence they wrote cheerfully or
despondently according as affairs looked prosperous or
doubtful. They could not help making speculations
respecting the issue, immediate or final, but these when
they reached America were generally amusing from




262            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
their remoteness from fact. It was rather disagreeable
also to be reminded four months afterward of untoward
events which we were all trying to forget. In every
letter David wrote earnestly about the war, though
visited, every once in a while, by the reflection that his
comments must be very odd when read so long after
the events commented upon had taken place.]
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
DEC. 24.
This is delicious weather. I have just looked
at the thermometer.  It stands at 78' in this room.
The mornings are very cool and bracing, and we never
think of complaining of heat at all in the day. I never
was more comfortable at home, except that I am constantly catching cold. This is Christmas eve. We
have no snow or frost here; if we should celebrate the
day at all, it would be in honor of the victory which
an extra telegram apprises us of to-day - the capture of
Beaufort.  We have been on tiptoe ever since hearing
of the fleet's sailing, and have been looking out for
good news. Now it has come, and we take a good long
breath.... As soon as a telegram reaches Madura
it is copied and sent to every missionary. We are not
dead here, I can tell you, and almost every shade of
political sentiment at the North, outside of radical
pro-slavery views, finds its representative and strenuous
advocate amongst us.
DEC. 26.
I must add one sentence, though I have been out to
Pasumalie to meeting to-night.  Just before starting I
caught sight of a donkey trespassing on our grounds.
So, as I am a sworn foe to all this kind, I sang out to




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            263
the gardener to put him in the pound, but instead of
saying kaluthei, donkey, I said kalanthei, baby, and
coolly told him to impound the baby. It shows where
my mind runs, but the gardener looked dumbfounded,
and there was an ominous whispering among the servants near.
This morning we were astounded out of measure by
a telegram from r Madras: " An unofficial telegram announces that England has declared war with the United
States on account of the forcible seizure of the Confederate Commissioners from a West India mail steamer," or something to that effect. It was a bomb thrown
into our company, coming right upon the last good
news.  What can it be?  All here pronounce it a
hoax, yet the rumor is bad enough. One of the first
effects I thought of as following a rupture was, that
you might not hear of baby's birth!
Christmas this year chanced to agree with a
heathen feast-day, and there was quite a display by the
votaries of the great idol here. A great procession
went round the city, accompanying images of the goddess and her spouse. They were borne in two immense
bamboo pyramidal pavilions on the shoulders of men.
Two elephants with gay trappings stalked along with
the crowd, and lots of men bearing umbrellas with immensely long handles, having no apparent use. The
feast-day is in connection with some legend of the tutelary deity of Madura, and one of the peculiar features
of the show is that bushels of rice are thrown to the
ants, in commemoration, they say, of something that
the idol did ages back. I saw men bearing rice and
scattering it by ant-holes on the road-side. Just at
the gate I came upon a crowd surrounding a man who




264            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
was fitted out in a most comical manner. He was
wearing crinoline, but in a way that made him appear
as if riding horseback. The crinoline frame was shaped
like a horse, with a head projecting forward. It was a
droll-looking thing, not exactly a perfect illusion, but
enough to puzzle you as to how the thing was fixed.
The people here certainly love fun.
DEc. 30..... This is weighing day, baby Julia having
completed another week of her earthly existence, but
we forgot to do our duty. You would laugh to see
how reverentially the natives treat her. Every morning regularly the sweeping-woman, when she comes in,
marches up to the bed and presents her respects to the
miss; and Mrs. Capron's cook coming in to-day called
on us, and presented Julia with a posy, making a most
profound salaam. All thefirst class in the girls' school
came over on Saturday last to see her, and amused us
mightily by measuring where her feet came to, to see
how short she was.
JANUARY 1, 1862.
Happy New Year! Well, we renew our journey
under a new sky and under different auspices from
those which smiled on us one year ago, and as I write
the words, " Happy New Year," it is with a sad and
heavy heart that has been weighing me down for a
fortnight past. Will these words ever reach your ear?
But I won't write useless words, but be a faithful chronicler, until we hear that further writing is
useless. Yesterday we all went out to dine. When
we got home, about half-past ten, I found quite a
gathering of servants on the back veranda, plotting
about something, and guessing what, I drew back and




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            265
said nothing. All night there was confused talking
and all sorts of noises, and lo! on waking and opening
the front doors, all the veranda was decorated with
plantain-stalks and leaves, festooned gracefully along
the whole length, and adorned further by bunches of
flowers, hanging from strings.  It was quite a pretty
sight, and spoke well for the taste of our household.
There was to be a meeting at half-past eight, so we
breakfasted at seven. After we had done, Savarimuttu
asked H. to sit still, and retiring, returned presently
heading the whole troop, tailor, washer-man, cook-boy,
gardener, horse-keeper, sweeper, and ayah (nurse),
bearing a big tray covered with golden plantains.
Each of the company then presented each of us with a
lime and little posy, while two or three hung garlands
of flowers round our necks.  Baby was summoned, and
tailor hung about its precious neck a pure and delicate
wreath made of the beautiful pith. It was a really
lovely gift. Savarimuttu also presented H. with quite
a pretty pith dove perched on wire. We could n't
keep our heavy garlands on long, so H. took hers off,
and Savarimuttu very gracefully hung it upon father's
picture, making a profound salaam; whereupon I, taking the hint, hung mine on H.'s father's picture, and
paid my respects likewise. All appeared greatly delighted.
JAN. 4.
Courage revives; details of news by to-day's paper
leads me to hope that war will be averted and news of
baby reach you! To-night it rains steadily, an immense blessing, if it will but rain enough to fill the
tanks. A famine is imminent, and nothing but a
plenteous rain at once can avert it. A serious affray




266           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
occurred at a village not far distant, when two young
English officers undertook to force a village, whose tank
was full, to allow water to run from it to a tank belonging to a neighboring village. It was against all custom, which is law here, and the consequence of the
attempt was that the villagers mustered in force, armed
with slings, and a fray ensued; the Sepoys under the
English shot three men; one of their own number and
an Englishman were wounded. My mfinshi tells me
that it is a maxim among this people to give their lives
for their grain.....;We have a new cook. We had to dismiss
our last; he got wind of what we were to do, and accordingly drew up a petition, which I add as a sample
of the way things are done here. What lawyer drew
it up for him I can't say - not himself.'; THE HUMBLE PETITION OF MARIANNAN, COOK.
With all marks of respect and submission I beg to
state that I was brought up from my boyhood in the
business of maty, and was doing the same until the time
I was engaged as a cook under you. This I was obliged
to do partly for want of demand (!) and partly to maintain myself and family in this time of severe drought.
I am not so much experienced in the latter as I am in
the former. I hope I could easily and clearly manage
the business of the maty, as well as giving to the Mr.
and Mrs. satisfaction every way. This you can readily
know by perusing mny testimonials. I beg to state
lastly, that if you please, you could exchange my present duty for that of the maty Savarimuttu, who had
been engaged as cook for the space of three years under
the Rev. Mr. Chandler. You will be kindly pleased




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            267
to recommend me to Mr. Yorke, who may, as I hear,
require a hand, as his maty is to leave him shortly. I
remain, most respected madam, your most obedient
servant,                          MARIANNAN."
Perhaps it was not worth the paper, but it will show
how we do things. Every man carries his reputation
in his pocket, in papers that he can't read, but which
have to him a magic charm. Cook's papers were
cautious enough, and would not help him on. He
wanted me to give him a character. I declined, telling
him that it would do him no good, as I should be obliged to state that he was uniformly dirty, sulky, and
inefficient. But if I had given it, I have no doubt that
he would have confidentially presented it, with his other
musty documents, as a strong and unimpeachable testimony. Even Savarimuttu's father, our new cook pro
tempore, must show his papers, dating back to primeval
days, before he could think himself lawfully engaged.
[SUNDAY-SCHOOL LETTER.]
MADURA, SOUTH INDIA, Jan. 21, 1862.
MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS,- I wish YOU could
go with me to church some Sabbath morning. You
would see many a strange sight: the rattan-mat on the
floor; the windows without any glass in them, and
with blinds that you can't open; the people all sitting
on the floor; men coming in with bright turbans on
their heads, and leaving their shoes outside; the women without shoes, and with their heads covered by
the cloth which clothes their bodies; the babies in
their mothers' arms, or sprawling about on the floor.
But that which you would notice above all things,




268            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
I think, would be forty or fifty girls from eight to sixteen years old, sitting together in the middle of the
church, and dressed in white clothes. With their black,
but bright faces, they look as eagerly as any at the
preacher as he tells them of the way of life; or standing up with the rest, they lead off, with all their might,
the singing of their Christian songs, in tones that
would sound oddly enough to you. Who are they?
They belong to the Madura Girls' Boarding-School, to
support which many of you give your pennies; and if
you would like to hear, I will tell you something about
them.
These girls are the children of persons who have
become Christians. The heathen here, as I once told
you, think that no girl is good enough to be taught to
read; and so, in heathen schools, you see only boys.
But Christians, you know, say that girls are as good
as boys, and that all should learn to read and write;
so the Christians, in the towns about Madura, send
their little daughters here to be taught by Miss Ashley, who has come from America for this very purpose.
Now let us follow these forty girls as they march,
two by two, from the church to the school-room, when
meeting is over. But first, while they pass the churchdoor, each one as she goes by touching her forehead
and saying " Sladm " (or "Good-day") to you, let
me tell you some of their names. Well, this one is
" Grace."  Very good, you say, I know a " Grace."
These two, walking side by side, are "Lazarus " and
" David."  What, these girls! Yes, it is very common to give the same name to both boys and girls, such
as " Health " or " Blessing." Here again are " Pearl "
and "Good-nature," and "'Lamp of Wisdom," and




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            269
"Nectar,"  and " Meekness," and " Peacock," and
"Grief," and "Brightness."  Here come " Little
Thing" and" Good Girl," and last of all "Servant
of Jesus " and "Heavenly Lighllt."   Children, how
would you like to be called'Servant of Jesus," or
"Lamp of Wisdom "?
We come to the school-house, a one-storied building,
in the middle of a large yard. On one side are two
school-rooms; there are no seats, as the girls sit on the
floor. Here they study, just as you do, reading, writing, arithmetic, and geography. Nice maps hang on
the walls, and black-boards stand in the corners. But
instead of writing on paper or slate, as you do, they
write also on the leaves of the palm-tree, and the very
little ones write with their fingers in the sand. They
study the Bible too, much more than I did, when I
went to school, and they know it well.
On the other side of this house is a long room with
a hard mud floor. As you go in, the first thing you
notice is a row of brass pans, stretching from one end
of the room to the other; and each one is so bright
from scrubbing that you can see your face in it.
These are the dishes that the girls eat out of, and each
girl has one, and one only. They are very proud of
them, and try hard to see whose pan shall look the best.
They eat rice four days in the week for breakfast, dinner and supper, and on other days some kind of corn.
They have a little meat in their rice; but nine cents a
day will buy the meat for forty-four girls, except on
Saturday, when they have a better dinner, with twentyfour cents' worth of meat for the whole. The girls take
their turn in cooking and helping the others to their rice.
On New Year's or some other great day, they have a




270            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
sheep killed and have a grand feast. They sweep out
the yard too, making brooms often out of cocoa-nut
leaves.
They all seem to love the Bible; and the first thing
they do in the morning is to go to some quiet place,
and read the Bible and pray.  A blessing is always
asked before eating, and after eating thanks are returned to God, each one taking her turn from the oldest
to the youngest. While at school they see hardly any
one beside themselves, as their home is not in Madura;
but when vacation comes many of them try to do good
among the heathen.  Just before'the last vacation,
Miss Ashley asked each one to try and bring some one
to church who had never been before, when they should
go home, and tell what they had done when school began again.  So they promised, and when they came
back to school, Miss Ashley asked them how they had
succeeded.  "Well," said one little girl, "I got a poor
old woman to go to church; but she did n't stay
through the meeting, because she said her shoulder
ached, sitting still so long.". Another bright-eyed little
one, whose f:ce is always on a smile, and whose name
is Anthony, said she met a tailor, and said, " You must
go to church."  "But what for? " said the tailor.
" 011, come and see," said Anthony. " But what is
the use of going to an empty church; there is nothing
to be seen, - no God." " Oh, yes, there is too," replied
Anthony; " our God is in church, even if you can't see
him."  But the tailor would n't go: said he, " My God
is on my forehead," pointing to the holy ashes which
he had rubbed there.  But was n't that little Anthony
a brave little missionary?
These school-girls all seem to love to pray, and they




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             271
pray just as children ought to, about all their troubles,
no matter how small they seem. One little girl, who
finds it not very easy to get her lessons, goes to God,
and tells Him how hard her sums are; that she has
tried hard, but can't do them, and asks Him to help
her; and I have no doubt He does.
Tlhese school-girls seem as bright and happy as any
I ever saw at home, and most of them grow up to
love the Saviour, and live useful lives. But it is n't
always so; and I must tell you a story about two girls
who had been in the school nearly eight years, but who
have now left us altogether. They are children of a
man called John, who was a few years ago a Christian
teacher, whom all loved.  But one day he heard that
he could earn a great deal of money by selling ruin.
The devil tempted him and he fell. He opened a rumshop, and the next thing he did was to send for his two
daughters, who were here at school, to come and help
him.  What could be done?  He was their father and
they must obey him.  They went, and I'm  sorry to
tell you that it was n't long before we heard that they
were indeed helping their father to sell rum, and thus
helping to ruin others, while they themselves had given
up Cihrist, and put on heathen marks!  It was a sad,
sad fall; but you will be glad to learn that the other
girls, who remain in the school, pray to God every day
that Mary and her sister may yet again come back and
follow Christ.  Perhaps you will pray for these two
wandering ones this night.  Will you not?
This last is a dark picture, but let me show you a
bright one. It shall be about that little girl who prayed
to God to help her get her lessons.  She lives about
forty miles from Madura.  Her father is a poor man,




272            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
and he alone, of all the people in his village, is a Christian. There is no minister where he lives; so every
Sunday he collects together the heathen and preaches
to them. After his little daughter had been here only
one term of a few months, she went home to spend
vacation.  Sabbath-day came, but her father was too
sick to talk. The people came to the house for meeting; what could be done? A boy was found who could
read. He was a heathen, but he read the Bible to
them; several of them could sing; but it was the part
of this little girl, not over ten years old, to pray. Yes,
she prayed before them all; and I am sure her prayer
was heard.  But was n't she a brave Christian? Who
of you will be like her? It is to send such girls to
school that you give your money.
Here I must stop. In a week or two I am to move
to a home of my own, where I shall find plenty of
work to do. I write these letters to a great many Sunday-school children.  If all who hear them  offer one
prayer to God for me, and the heathen around me,
God will surely answer them. Will you join?
Your sincere friend,
DAVID C. SCUDDER.
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
JAN. 19.
Mail leaves in three or four days, and yet I have not
written a line.  But events worthy of record have
passed. I have been examined, approved and stationed.
Henceforth address all communications of whatever
kind, not to Madura, but to Periakulam. Yes, I have
at last a place among men, a local habitation. But let
me begin, as far as I can, at the beginning.  My




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           273
examination in Tamil, which was to test my capability
in that line, and govern the mission respecting my appointment, took place a week ago yesterday. I went
out to Pasumalie with Mr. Rendall to breakfast at eight
A. M. After breakfast I was set to work translating
Tamil into English aind English into Tamil until two
P. M., save an hour at noon, when I conducted a
weekly prayer-meeting, and talked to the students of
the seminary on the words " Grieve not the Holy
Spirit." I spoke about half an hour, and succeeded
much better than I expected to. Then after dinner,
they put me through grammar, reading Gospels and
conversation. The last I dreaded, but as it came lasth
they let me off easily. So I rode home with a light
heart, confident that I should be accepted, as the event
proved.
I came home from our annual meeting at Meluir this
morning at three o'clock. All missionaries attend the
regular mission meetings held thrice a year, in January,
May, and September.  So on Tuesday evening about
nine o'clock, Washburn, who had come in from his
place, joined me in my bullock-bandy. It was a delightful moonlight night. Indeed you cannot fancy the
peculiar brilliancy of the moonlight here..... The
distance is eighteen miles, and we reached Melfir about
four o'clock.... I awoke to find myself in one of
the most beautiful regions about here, the horizon
bounded by hills on all sides.  All the missionaries
were prompt, and we had a jolly time greeting one
another. The providing for such a company was no
small matter in a place where no tavern is to be had,
and where little or no market is to be found. But two
or three took to the church and spread their cots there,
18




274            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
some in the house, while Washburn and I took up our
lodgings under a capacious tent which Mr. Burnell,
the missionary here, uses on his tours, and which he
had pitched on his ground.  How I did luxuriate that
night, no rocking bandy, nothing to break in upon the
delicious repose but the unmerciful Mr. Burnell, who
roused us out of bed by moonlight to give us a bath in
his famous swimming-basin.  He has built a big bathing-tub, about a third as large as Braman's,* and has
had it filled from the well. It is a rare treat to plunge
about in water, a thing which I have n't done since
leaving home. Such baths are common among the
English, but we have only two.
We had our meetings in the church, and they occupied from ten o'clock to dusk, excepting dinner-time.
All scattered to walk by dark.  There is a famous
banian-tree here, one of the largest in the country. It
is a splendid thing, fully coming up to my idea of such
trees, except that the shoots are clustered nearer to the
trunk than I had supposed.  We paced it.  The measurement about the outer circumference was one hundred and eighty paces, the diameter about forty. The
shoots, as soon as they enter the ground, swell at the
base so that they grow to look like real, independent
trees, and the effect is fine.  The length of the unsupported branches running horizontally outward would
astonish you.
The meeting is important, as being the meeting at
which the appropriations for the year are made.
But what interested me mostly was my fate.  I was
not kept long in suspense, for upon the motion of Mr.
* This is a comparison which Boston boys only can be expected to understand. The basin must have been about fifteen feet square.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            275
Rendall, I was summarily appointed to the station of
Periakulam; of the position and character of the station I must speak hereafter.... Thursday evening
after meeting, we all went on top the house and sang
under the open sky, with the full moon looking benignantly upon us, "The Star-Spangled Banner," with
all our might and main. Somebody had given us a
miniature "Stars and Stripes," which Mr. Burnell
waved over us. It was a stirring time.' I tell you,
there is no unloyal heart here..... I enjoyed the
meeting highly, and came home as I went. So I am
stationed. We begin to move next week, and I expect
to visit Periakulam with Mr. Noyes, who formerly had
the entire field which now is divided. [This visit was
immediately made, and occupied a week and a half, but
I defer the narrative of it till the next chapter, in order
to make the description of the place more connected.
He returned to Madura, remaining there only long
enough to prepare for removal, and anticipating with
eagerness his establishment at a station of his own.]
[TO HORACE E. SCUDDER.]
MADURA, Feb. 6, 1862.
How many times lately I have longed to have
you or anybody from home along with me. I have
been off on a tour and have often been alone. Tossing
about in a bandy I have ample time to think, and such
jolly times as two in a cart do have. Missionaries here
are fresh as boys, and the way we chat about college
and seminary life would amuse you.  Then there is
always a comical side to bandy-travelling; the bandyman sitting cross-legged on the pole, working the bullocks with his hands, much as an artist might two




276           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
pianos at once, thrumming on either at will, with a
querulous expostulation with them for acting badly," Don't I give you your grass and cotton-seed?  Why
do you treat me so?"  Thus they go on, talking to
them as if they were men. Oh, it's real droll.
I have work enough before me now; a district some
twenty miles in diameter put in my keeping, with the
charge " Till it." I am fruitful in plans, but it is to be
seen how they will result. You at home can have no
conception whatever of the dismal deep into which
portions of the Hindu people have sunk.  The sight
shocks me even to-day, and you can find no terms so
expressive of your feelings as the Prophet's " Can
these bones live? " People who gloat over carrion,
feast on rats and vermin, and roll in filth, form the staple of our congregations, that is, our people come out
of such castes. It is deplorable, and often very depressing. Extremes in society here are far greater than
at home, even bringing into account Romanist Irish.
I mean to aim higher, not indeed ambitiously; but I
question whether we have not confined ourselves too
exclusively to classes who will hear us most readily.
The lowest of the low have least to lose in changing
their faith.
[TO HIS SISTER.]
MADURA, Feb. 13, 1862.....  You may believe that being so soon to have
a station of my own I am full of plans as to how I
shall conduct it.  I am reading a little volume of
Dr. Caldwell's on Tinnevelly Missions. He describes
briefly but ably the field, the work, the results. It is
the best description of our way of working that I have




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            277
seen. There are lots of suggestions in it. My chief
task, aside from preaching to the heathen, will be to
instruct the congregations. I want to have a plan by
which the life of Christ shall be studied in course by
all the congregations simultaneously. I mean to assign
Bible lessons to the catechists, which I shall go over
at the monthly meetings with them. Then they teach
the same to their people. So when I visit them I shall
know the lesson for the day and be ready with a talk.
Systematic, progressive instruction, line upon line, precept upon precept, is what they need most emphatically. Can't you suggest some method of studying the
Bible? Pray for me, that above all things the eternal
welfare of the thousands under my care may lie close
upon my heart, daily, hourly.




278            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
CHAPTER XIII.
HOME AT PERIAKULAM.
[FEBRUARY-APRIL, 1862.]
[PERIAKULAM is in the Madura District, and distant
from the city of Madura about fifty miles, being a little
north of west. It is in the valley of the Vaikai River,
which rises in Kambam, about forty miles south of
Periakulam, flows in a northerly direction between two
ranges of mountains for thirty miles, when it bends toward the east, and flowing northeast as far as Battalagundu changes its course and flows southeast by the
city of Madura into the Gulf of Mannar.  The valley
of the Vaikai is about twenty miles wide at Periakulam.
The missionary district under this name had been recently set off from a larger one, and was about twelve
miles in diameter. The letters and journal will sufficiently indicate the nature of the country and character of the people.  The reader has seen how eagerly
David anticipated his work here, an eagerness which
was increased by the preliminary visit which he made
in January with Mr Noyes, when he made a short tour
through the field. His memorandum journal bears record of his earnest spirit in these words written on the
day of arrival:-" Here I am at my own station, and
in my own house - home. Am pleased with the looks
of things, especially these everlasting hills.  May the
blessing of Almighty God, Father, Son, and Spirit, be
with us.  How long shall I be here?"  In a little less




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             279
than ten months that question was answered. His first
impressions, derived from his visit, are shown at length
in the following extracts.]
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
PERIAKU'LAM, Jan. 23, 1862.
Note this, my first letter from my own station, my
house, and to be my home. I have come here to look
around and see what needs to be done before moving
here. Oh! it is a grand, grand spot. Right in front,
as you look off from the veranda, are these towering
Pulneys gazing down upon you in solemn front from a
height of over eight thousand feet. If I had a gifted
pen, I could furnish you with any amount of fine writing on the subject, but must content myself with a
bare description. The house faces the north. The
spur of hills on which is the Sanitarium runs east and
west, and you seem to see each end as you look upon
them here. The eastern end terminates in a singularly
shaped mountain. It tapers up quite to a point, and
from its apex to the base a sharp ridge runs very
straight and very sharp. Toward the west, some ten
miles away, the range takes a turn, and two enormous
hills face you, each having a capacious lap. On all
other sides are mountains also, but at various distances
from you, some in the distant horizon, some little hills
near by. The Pulneys, immediately in front, are only
four miles distant, and you may fancy how imposing
is their appearance with such a uniform elevation extending for miles and miles in unbroken line. It is a
grand site for a house, and these lasting hills will be
lasting friends to us.  Their convenience, in case of
sickness, the summit being only five or six hours dis



280            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
tant, will at once be apparent. A large valley is all
about us, and the scenery of the valley will compare
well with that of New England. I long to bring H.
here to enjoy it..... TThe church and congregation called on me,
" the new man."  They came, headed by the pastor,
and bearing a basket of plantains, with a paper of sugar,
as a token of greeting. The whole congregation could
not come, many being away; about twenty presented
themselves and sat down before us on the veranda.
I must say that their first appearance was not altogether
favorable. Half-clad, dirty, and unintellectual, I asked
myself could I find sympathy as a Christian here?
But as one countenance after another lighted up in the
course of the conversation, I felt relieved, and could see
in them not a little to please and encourage me. But it
is a poor congregation; every member is a Pariah, the
lowest caste, and only one or two can read. Deacon
Moses cannot read.  Moreover this church has for
many years been in a most lamentable condition. Two
members, and deacons, I think, had a quarrel and drew
the whole church after them. The ground of the dispute has only lately been removed, and as the pastor
said to me, " the hate still remains."
ANDIPATTI, Jan. 26.
This is one of the villages in my field. As I write,
I sit in a comfortable touring-chair, in a thatched-roof
church, though rather a modest edifice to be so called..... We left Periakulam, eleven miles distant, this
morning at five o'clock, while the moon was shining.
I walked a good share of the way. The road
is the most like a New England road of any I have seen




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            281
this long while, up hill and down, while most roads
here are on a dead level. I wandered along ahead of
the carts, kicking over ant-hills, from common-sized
ones to mounds three feet high, looking at the beautiful
turtle-doves, and listening to the notes of some unknown songster, picking up a monstrous millipede, and
pocketing it for S., though dropping it as it seemed inclined to crawl upward, mounting big boulders and surveying the country, my field, all in high spirits.....
As I walked along I planned all sorts of tours or systems
of touring, so as to reach all the villages. In this station
of only about twelve miles diameter there are many
villages that never saw a missionary.  I hope it will
not be so very long. It is an advantage which a small
station has over a large one, that it can be more thoroughly canvassed, and labor be spent more economically. It will be years before I can effectually preach
throughout; but I have good catechists, and I hope
through them to organize a more thorough system
than has been possible hitherto..... We dined at Andipatti at three o'clock, and
immediately after got into our bandy and started for a
village seven miles distant. I got from the head of
police a list of all the villages in this police station.
You will get some idea of the country when you hear that
within a radius of eight miles there are sixty-eight villages, small and large, varying from five to one hundred
houses. A populous country for work, is it not? We
reached the village about dusk and went to the house
of a rich native who belongs to the congregation. He
is a higher caste man than we usually meet with, and
his influence is worth preserving, but he is not a very
stable believer.  He had a long story of grievances




282            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
to tell to Mr. Noyes, and as I sat under his portico, on a
raised mud seat, looking at the singular group squatted
around us, I could not help wishing that some of you
could sit by me and see the sight, and look at the man
speaking, gesturing with natural grace, loosing first his
turban and then his upper cloth, in his eagerness.
After a night's rest in the cart, we drove two miles
further the next morning to a village where there is
quite a prosperous congregation of one hundred and
fifteen souls. Mr. Noyes preached to them, introducing me.  Three catechists went with us through the
village, which is quite a large one. We stopped at a
school where quantities of boys flocked about, and Mr.
Noyes talked.  Coming away a man came along and
said he wanted to join the congregation. We received
him gladly I assure you, and were talking about it,
when I said, " Here's this man following us." He was
a man whom I had noticed as having a most singular
countenance. We asked him what he wanted, and he
said, "I want to join you."  Here were two! a most
unusual occurrence. I talked with him. He said that
he had given up his idols six months ago, and I was
interested too to find that he had heard of the gospel
from Ragland and his associates, church missionaries in
Tinnevelly, while living there.  Thus the word is
sown, thus it yields fruit. You can hardly conceive
of the very peculiar joy I had in seeing these two
coming to us.
[A month later the young missionaries had removed
from Madura and were established permanently at their
new home, in season to celebrate the anniversary thus
pleasantly spoken of.]




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            283
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
PERIAKULAM, Feb. 27, 1862.
One year ago there was a wedding in Boston. Today the bride and groom are comfortably housed in a
bungalow in South India, their own house, with a baby
to adorn it. Yes, here we are, sixteen miles from our
nearest white neighbor, settled at last in a station of
our own, as happy, as comfortable, as well as if we
were in a country parish at home......We went
first to Battalagundu, where Washburn is stationed,
and from there took our own horse-carriage. We had
Washburn's horse for the first eight miles, I having
posted mine half-way on.  A  horse here would be
pretty well used up if he should go sixteen miles on a
stretch. But we did enjoy that drive. I had been
counting on driving in our own carriage, and we were
well repaid. We started just before sunrise, and had
a cool time of it for the first half of the way. Then
the road was so like home roads, up hill and down,
rocks and roots and ruts, reminding us of an up-country road in New England. The grand Pulneys always
in sight and always to be, the cool bracing air, the
flocks of new, gay-colored birds outside, and the little
bird nestling inside, all helped to make the drive a
happy one. Then the house, when within four miles,
kept peeping in and out between the trees, as we
rounded one hill and another, looking so clean and
white in its new dress. All the servants were on the
veranda to receive us, and I took H. about to look
upon our new possessions. Keeping house here is not
exactly what it is at home, there is so much shed-room,
and there are so many servants. Thus we have a row
of buildings, as long as the house, of go-downs as they




284           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
call them, the big store-room and the little store-room,
the kitchen, the hen-house and dove-cote, and here the
travellers' go-down; then the horse and carriage stalls,
and extra shed-room for travellers to the hills. Everything is on one floor, and all on a large scale, as I shall
show more minutely hereafter. The house has been
newly whitewashed, outside and in, and all the woodwork oiled. We have glass windows, which is quite a
luxury here. In Madura we had no windows at all, to
say nothing of glass. You would think these rather
odd. The lower part is glass doors, the upper Venetian
blinds. The doors are Venetian for the upper, and
solid for the lower half, while above them again is a
glass window. In Madura, if you shut the doors you
were in darkness; here you can still see and tell when
morning breaks. And oh, when it does break, what
delicious air! I astonished H. one morning by bringing in the thermometer, and showing her the mercury
shivering at 600, five degrees lower than Mr. Winslow
said he had ever known it in India.
I want to give you a complete survey of our
state and position.  So I will go over the servants,
praying that you may not be appalled by their number.
First is the all-essential Francis Xavier or Savarimuttu,
our maty or chief servant. Next is Vetham, Sav.'s
father, who is cook. Next is tailor. The ayah, who
does well with baby, is black as a coal, wears a jewel
or ornament in her nose, and rivals the " fat boy " at
sleeping. There is the sweeper-woman who does the
drudgery. She is here only temporarily. Horse-keeper,
called Mutmyandi, "Lord of Sages;" two gardeners,
one, Pearl of Wisdom. Then there is a watchman
paid by the mission. We have also a tap-dl-man (pro



DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            285
nounced tap-paul) who goes once a week to Madura
and back with a tin box on his head, keeping us in
communication with the metropolis.
Now that we have a station we have catechists under
our charge. Here at Periakulam the catechist is Manuel, an Indo-Briton, or East Indian, or Eurasian, or
Half-caste, as such are variously termed. He dresses
like a European, but looks much like a native. He is
a good business-hand, and such a man is much needed
here, when people arrive on their way to and from the
hills. There is here also a church and a native pastor.
His name is Seymour. His church is a mile from
here, and he has pretty much the sole care of it. It is
in a part of the town called Fort Hill. At Andipatti
is Kurubatham, "Teacher's Foot," and at two villages
near by, Guandmuttu, " Pearl of Wisdom," and Devanaikam, "Divine Lord," or some such meaning. I
shall introduce them to you more formally when I visit
their villages.
I must give you as far as I can a description
of our house and surroundings. Before reaching the
town, about a mile this side, turn sharp to the left and
stand still. At the end of a long, narrow lane, nearly
a quarter of a mile long, is a whitewashed gate, between
two high whitewashed posts, commanding the entrance
to the mission compound; a mud wall, coped with brick
and mortar, whitewashed upon the top, surrounds the
whole, enclosing a space of about six acres. Looking
beyond the gate, through an avenue of rather scant
trees, peeps out the house.  It is a low, one-storied,
flat-roofed house, standing in about the middle of the
enclosure. On the left is the modest church. To the
left of that, outside the mud wall, are the mud, straw



286            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
thatched houses of the catechists and house-servants.
A couple of rods back of the wall, running almost
round two sides of the house, is the river or branch of
the Vaikai River which flows by Madura. Periakulam
itself is divided into two parts, called South Branch
and North Branch, according as it lies south or north
of the stream.
Well, will you walk up to the house? or, as we
don't walk much in this country, drive with us in our
bandy? Entering the compound, on the left is grass
as far as the east wall, scanty enough, and scattered
about are young palmyra palms, only about four feet
high, with their stiff, fan-shaped leaves.  On the right
is grass half-way up to the west wall. The other half
is taken up with a garden in which are about twenty
young cocoa-nut trees, ten feet high, some mangotrees, and a spot for potatoes and any vegetables.
To-day the gardeners set out some plantain-roots or
bulbs. Driving toward the house, and looking beyond
it to the right, you see a little gate which lets you out
to the river, a few steps below.  Built up level with the
compound, outside of the walls, is the brick-and-mortar
well, into which the river-water is drawn by a little
channel, giving us plenty of water for the garden, and
overhanging that is the big well-sweep, like those at
home, save that for a stone to balance, a man walks on
it back and forth, holding on by a bamboo frame built
for the purpose at the side, and another man draws up
the bucket.  Seen against the sky, the whole affair is
quite picturesque. At an equal distance inside the wall,
just back of the house is the regular well of pure drinking-water, with its channels through which the water
runs into the garden below. A garden here is divided




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             287
off into small beds surrounded with channels, and so
fixed that by a stroke of the spade the water can be
turned into any at will.
Turning Pegu's head to the left, we dismount and
make a low bow. Ascend three steps and you are on a
veranda laid with square bricks, covered with mortar
rubbed to a polish. Above, you see rafters with slit
bamboos laid across, supporting the tiles of the veranda
roof.  The veranda runs in front and partly round two
sides; a post is planted at each end, and you might
any morning see Pegu tied, and the horse-keeper grooming him, beginning with pieces of brick.  This insures
his being well groomed and fed. There are four doors
in front and two windows on each end.  But we have
been outside long enough; walk in. The first thing
that strikes you is the height and bareness of the walls.
We are in the hall or parlor.  The walls of this, as of
all the rooms, are fifteen feet high, and all whitewashed
exactly as the outside. The hall is twenty-seven feet
long and eighteen wide, and the dining-room back is
of the same size.  You look  from  either hall-door
(tllere are two opening from the front veranda) right
through a doorless doorway to a corresponding door in
the dining-room, opening upon the back veranda.
The floor is covered with a big, rough matting made of
slit ratan.   The ceiling resembles somewhat that of
old-fashioned houses. Two enormous beams run across,
and between these and the walls, rafters, oiled well, and
giving a pleasing contrast to the white ceiling between
the rafters.
The room on the left in front is full of furniture
belonging to Mr. Noyes, the former occupant; back of
it is our Friends' Room, as it is called here.  Dr. Ar



288            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
nold's picture adorns one corner. Back of the hall,
and of the same size, as I said, is the dining-room.
The legs of our sideboard stand in brass cups of water,
to be proof against ants. No article of furniture nor
common box can stand on its own bottom here. No,
not a tub, for the white ants are sure to eat up everything not on stilts. From the dining-room turn to the
right, and you are in our bedroom, corresponding to
the Friends' Room. From the window we have a fine
view of the hills. Between the pillars opposite, on the
veranda, hang two tatties or sweet-grass shades to keep
off the heat and glare of the sun. They can be rolled
up. A bathing-room connects with this room, in the
rear.  Now come into my study which is in front, on
the right of the hall, corresponding to Mr. Noyes's
room on the left. Like the other three rooms it is
eighteen feet square, the floor covered with common
straw mat, the ceiling like that of the hall. My great
study-table is in the middle, and maps and pictures
hang on the walls. My bookcases are in here and in
the hall.....
Done with the inside, pass to the back veranda, which
is smaller.  On the left is the mfinshi's (teacher's)
room, where the tracts are kept, and physic and tools.
Opposite is Savarimnuttu's go-down or store-room, where
the "goodies" are, and on this or on the front veranda sits the tailor on his mat, plying his needle and
gossiping as he can well do. From the house on the
left stretches a long row of out-houses.  First the godown where all heavy articles, flour, horse-food, boxes,
etc., are kept; then the kitchen, in front of which is a
covered place for bandies of persons on the hills. Beyond is the chicken-house, and above that a dove-cote




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             289
for one hundred pigeons. Beyond that, at the end is
a small calf-pen. On the back side are four stalls for
horses and carriages, all whitewashed and shaded by a
panddal, as we call it.  The church in the compound
is bare and plain enough, - plain inside too; a little
raised platform, like the rest, of mortar, at the end,
and a movable stand for pulpit, a Gothic window
behind.
If you pass through the house on to the small back
veranda, you will be tempted to go on top by the stairway on the left. Everything is whitewashed, so don't
rub your garments. But I can't attempt to describe
the view from the roof.  You could walk about and
gaze for a long time without wearying. Face the gate,
northward. You appear to be in the centre of a vast
amphitheatre of hills that tower nearly eight thousand
feet upward, right before you.  You are four miles
from their base. They hardly form half a circle, and
terminate abruptly to your vision on either side: on
the left truly; on the right they still reach on toward
the east, but the line is broken for you by a mountain
nearer, a little to the right and of very peculiar shape,
a sharp ridge running from base to apex, its edge toward you.  The next most prominent feature is the
road, a quarter of a mile distant, running at right angles with the path to the house, and lined, all alone on
each side by big, ungainly, but thickly leaved baniantrees, full of monkeys.  Between the road and the
mountain are green rice-fields, with a few small streams,
and banians, cork and thorn trees, and bamboo clumps
scattered about. To the left, just outside the northwest corner of the compound, is a beautiful grove of
tall, graceful cocoa-nuts, with dozens of pendent birds'19




290            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
nests hanging from their high limbs, while over and
beyond them you look into the bosom of the hills,
where they sweep around toward the south.  Southward, the view is less limited, the hills being miles
away, but it is much less interesting. You can see a
large tank or two, and one or two low, gravelly hills,
covered with scraggly cactus-bushes, not far off, - a
noticeable feature in an Indian landscape, where low,
small hills, not mountains, are rarely seen. You, with
home notions of Oriental vegetation, would be disappointed in the general bleakness and barrenness of the
view. Certainly, almost any spot that I have seen at
home would excel in beauty a landscape in this country. Everything is dry. Trees are not specially beautiful, and of far less variety than is met with at home.
The trees on the road to our house are tulip-trees, a
kind that neither of us like, coarse, clumsy, and littering the ground forever with falling leaves.
[TO MRS. CHARLES W. SCUDDER.]
PERIAKULAM, March 19, 1862.
A splendid bouquet of hill- flowers, just sent us, is
breathing out fragrance singularly suggestive of home.
Roses, geraniums, heliotropes, and verbenas are not
every-day sights to mortals here below [on the plains].
Well, what has this to do with writing to me? you will
ask. Simply, that somehow flowers suggest you, and
your letter comes to mind, which has but lately arrived,
fresh from  Linden Place..... I wish it were as
easy for me to give you a picture of our house and
room as for me to keep yours in mind. H. and I are
sitting in my study, writing at my big study-table, as
we do every evening.  Doors and windows are open,




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            291
and we manage to feel comfortable, at least I do, with
the thermometer at 86~. Is that warm at home? I
lav-e forgotten. You would find little to attract you
in our surroundings, certainly nothing which could
steal your affection from the Nature with which you have
been familiar.  These great hills would be grand anywhelre, but they have nothing of the summer dress of
New England hills, nor the gorgeousness of autumn.
Tllhey look brown and bald, though forests cover them
throughl which wild beasts roam unmolested.  Indian
trees do not compare with home trees for beauty of
outline, grace of limb, or richness of verdure. The
banian is a great, awkward, ungainly, unsightly production. It is a monster, though not the monster of
books. There are not over a dozen such trees as figure
in pictures, in all Southern India, I dare say. The
banians are very common, almost every public road is
lined with them, and they throw out their long, unsightly arms in every direction.  They take special
delight in shooting forth branches but a little above
the ground, and almost perfectly horizontal branches
that are as big at one end as at the other and reach
out an amazing distance. They ought to be propped up
by the shoots; but these shoots rarely reach the ground,
except close to the trunk, being nibbled off by cattle.
The banians are famous resorts for monkeys.
Cork-trees are rather graceful and have a pretty
blossom, like the cypress-vine, hanging from a long
stem. Tulip-trees are ugly, coarse, and litter the ground
with leaves.  Thorn-trees are as unshapely, usually,
as they ought to be; but there is one kind of thorn
called the umbrella-tree, which has an astonishing likeness to that domestic article, and is so very peculiar in




292           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
shape as to form a desirable addition to your garden.
Fruit-trees are not as pretty either, I think, as home
ones, but I fear I am partial, and certainly I am encroaching on ground that I don't naturally own. But
what strikes one most forcibly is the bleakness of the
ground. Except in the rainy season, when the rice is
exceedingly beautiful, - the richest green I ever saw, -
all fields are bleak, and barren of everything save stubble. You rarely see a watercourse; we are favored
in being near mountains.  Tanks are usually half dry,
showing the mud, and interesting only as the resort of
flocks of aquatic birds. Save too occasionally a mountain, all is a dead level; there is hardly such a thing as
a hill anywhere, where I have been. This of course is
favorable for irrigation, but certainly not for beauty.
But we did not come here attracted by any sf ries
of the beauties of tropical scenery, or the luxuriance
of vegetation, of which we heard. We are less interested in the land than the people who inhabit it. And
if I should write of the natural attractiveness of the
inhabitants, I fear I could not give a very glowing account. Heber said, "Only man is vile."  I should
put a question mark after only, - but I am not anxious
to destroy his poetry nor rudely break in upon current
notions. Certainly the rest is true; man is vile, how
vile I am confident that even you, with all your acquaintance with Brookline Creek, can have but the
very faintest conception. Not vile only but low, wonderfully low. My heart sinks within me as I look upon
some of these people, and the best comfort I find is in
the thought that God created them. Even this, as W.
said to me, one might almost be led to doubt, and take
up with Topsy's theology.  However, they are and




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             293
hlave been reclaimed. You would be interested in the
work, I know, and I must not fail to tell you that I
love this people very much. I like their affectionate,
dependent ways..... It does encourage me to think
how many love me and pray for me at home.
[TO HIS SISTER.]
PERIAKULAM, March 24, 1862..... It does come upon me so once in a while, the
thought that home is slipping slowly out of grasp! It
is very oppressing to feel the impressions of honie becoming gradually more indistinct, the shades of homelife, that render the whole picture so pleasing, growing
more shadowy, till the merest outline is lost; the consciousness that all this is actually passing out of my
hold and that there is no hope for it is really painful.
I find myself already straining my memory to recal the
appearance of certain parts of the house, and it makes
me feel badly. I ride out on horseback every morning,
and home rarely escapes coming up for a theme of
thought.
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
MARcH 20.
I go to Andipatti to-morrow morning early. This
is my first tour by myself; perhaps you would be interested in the disposal of things. I have had no touringbox made yet, so this time I make use of an old camphor trunk.  Into this go the canisters for tea and
sugar; a butter-pot, its top secured by a cloth and
string; plates, napkin, pepper and salt-box are stowed
snugly away. In a tin case are two loaves of bread;
a tin washbowl, rice and curry dishes, lamp, sweet




294           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
potatoes, plantains, and a roast chicken all find accommodation in some corner of this odorous trunk. Pots
and kettles go into a separate basket. When the bandy
has come I shall see that there is plenty of straw on
which to lay the mattress. To the inside somewhere
I must tie my touring-cot, and place inside also my
camp-chair and table, and after all, myself.
MARCH 27.
I was only away on my tour a single day, as
I had a sore throat and headache, and there was trouble
in the household. Our good-natured horse-keeper had
met with an accident.... I set my " ticker," that
invaluable companion, to wake me up at half-past four
in the morning. It was faithful, and by five I was off
in the bandy with a good moonlight, and dawn soon
breaking. The distance to Andipatti is eleven miles,
and the bandy-man, whom you must know as Anikatti,
or "Young Elephant," managed to reach Andipatti by
9.30, four hours and a half travel. Vetham the cook,
Savarimuttu's father, was on hand; but when we came
to open the camphor trunk, the brass key broke. That
was a pretty pickle to be in, for I wanted breakfast,
and there was the chicken, the plates, and everything
else nicely locked up. However we sent for a blacksmith and I managed to pry the cover up. The natives
were coming in to pay their respects, but when the
table was ready they disappeared, as they do not consider it polite to look at another eating.
In a few minutes after breakfast and before I was
ready for them, the bridal party, of which I had been
told, appeared. I had made but little preparation, but
put a bold face on and proceeded to business. The




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           295
little church was full of spectators, partly heathen partly
Christian. The bride's mother sat next to her, seeing
that her cloth was kept perfectly arranged, and especially so that no part of her face should be visible. She
sat the very impersonation of modesty, giving no one a
chance to pronounce on her beauty, though a glimpse
that I caught of her face made me think that fancy
would pronounce better judgment than actual sight.
She opened her cloth while the ceremony was performing. The most noticeable feature of her countenance
was a deep blood-red dash of dye along each cheekbone, making her look as though her throat were cut.
I can't tell you how her hair was dressed, as it was
never visible, -a fortunate thing for me. The groom
had no modesty to boast of, but sat with a big wreath
of white flowers round his neck and a cloth thrown
over his shoulders loosely. The company were all behind, an arrangement which I commend to bashful
young men and women at home. We have a marriage
formula here, not uniform, but each missionary adapts
what appears to himself suitable. The native style of
wedding is by what is called a Tdi. It is a small ornament hung by a cord around the woman's neck, tied
there by the husband. I believe it is never taken off.
The man ties it at the time. We have lately adopted
the open Bible as a suitable emblem for our Christians.
I read Ephesians on marriage to them, married them,
prayed a very short prayer, and pronounced the benediction. A hymn followed to the tune of "Old Hundred." Then the father of the bride brought forward
the fee, - for bride and groom each, three annas and
four pice, - ten cents. Which twenty cents I duly deposited in H.'s keeping as her first pin-money. After




296           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
the hymn I wished them both joy and supposed we were
well through. But no: the catechist asked me to talk
to them.  I declined, and he receiving permission,
preached to them nearly half an hour, on various
topics more or less relevant to the matter in hand.
Then another hymn and prayer, and another benediction by the catechist, a layman, in which the whole
company joined, as is the custom here. The crowd
then left, after the groom had received a copy of the
New Testament from me, as he could read. I suppose
the groom was in clover, but I was rather surprised to
see him come to the church before meeting, seeming to
have nothing special to do, and again in the evening to
find him at the catechist's house, calling. Not a very
faithful spouse.
We had a meeting in the afternoon, in which I talked
in a familiar way to the church-members, urging them
to learn to read. A man has just moved in with his
old mother from a place in Mr. Herrick's field, and he
came asking to be received to communion. Such requests are rare and I was glad to hear it. The old
woman also wished the same. I shall write to Mr.
Herrick about them, and examine them the next time
I visit Andipatti.
I decided to visit the church at a place two miles
south called Maniakarampatti. Patti is a common termination, meaning village. Here is my largest congregation, numbering one hundred and five. I expected
to hold a meeting, but the first news that greeted me
on reaching the church was that my people were in
great tribulation. There is a good deal of young grain
growing now, and while young it is almost sure death
to cattle who eat it. They die, the natives say, from a




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           2l7
little insect that is in the grain, which chokes them.
How true the explanation is I cannot say, but that day
five or six cows had strayed into a field, eaten and died.
Our people are poor enough, and they can ill afford to
lose them. The cows were all together, and the people
with them, so I went to see them. It was a doleful
sight indeed. Five nice-looking cows lay stretched out
dead, and the women were sitting around them, or
walking about, uttering most pitiful lamentations over
their loss. One cow was just dying, and a crowd was
standing round it mourning every fresh indication of
coming death. I could say but little and do less. They
had poured water down with no avail, and asked me if
I had not some medicine. I got my catechist, or teacher,
who was with me to tell the people, many of whom
were heathen, of Job, how he suffered, and how he
bore it.  They appeared somewhat interested in the
tale. But it was really a mournful sight to see the
affection manifested toward the animals. " They were
Christian cows," they said. I left them finally and
walked back toward Andipatti. A few accompanied
me on the way, some distance, till I gave them leave to
return.
I was pleased to witness the anxiety manifested to
have the Lord's Supper administered there, which they
had not had, they said, for a long time.  Walking
home by starlight I had ample time to meditate on the
work before me, its extent and its character. I felt a
quiet exultation at the thought of having so much to
do, and I longed to be able to speak readily, that I
might carry out a plan of touring among heathen villages that I have been concocting.  Reaching the
church I had tea, and then walking over to the cate



298            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
chist's house, I brought him back with me, and we two
spent a pleasant hour, in talking and praying together
about our work, and the Lord's work around Audipatti. It was the pleasantest hour I had yet passed in
India. Do you remember my describing a singularlooking man as having presented himself to Mr. Noyes
and me, when we were there before?  Kurubathlam
had not seen him for some time, as the man had been
south, but he came to see me and said he had been
sick. He was really very earnest and seemed sincere,
and I am quite interested in him. I made too strong a
cup of tea for my benefit, slept but little, rose at halfpast two, got the bandy, started off and came in upon
H. much to her relief about seven. We soon after
sent the horse-keeper off in the same bandy to Madura.
It is thundering above, — an unusual but
very welcome sound in these parts. A cool breeze
blows upon me, refreshing after the hot day. I did not
test it, but I am safe in saying that the thermometer
has been over 100~ a good part of the day. Hot
weather is rushing upon us like fire on a prairie, and
we shall soon hear the roar and feel the blast. We
have decided to go to the Hills if possible in two weeks,
and then what a jovial time we shall have. Were it
not for H. I hardly think I should go myself, as I am
able to endure; still to-day I have had a dull, headachy feeling, rather disagreeable, though I am in
decent condition otherwise.  The whole mission is on
the move, making its annual pilgrimage to the Hills.
The Tracys' goods, cows, sheep, and hens came to-day.
When a family takes a vacation here, the whole concern has to move.  They go up on Tuesday morning. Wednesday the Burnells spend with us, going up




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           299
Thursday morning. Friday morning Miss Ashley ascends. Then the Hunts are also coming this year for
the first time. They will be here in a week; so that
if we are fifty miles from Madura we shall see plenty
of visitors for a while.
MARCH 28.
We had a tornado at noon to-day. Thunder roared
among the hills, the dust flew up in spouts, the rain
descended, and the floods came. It was deliciously
refreshing. We had been resting, with the thermometer at 980, a cloudy day too, when of a sudden the
breezes came, and the mercury ran into its bulb, stopping at 760, a very remarkable fall for this country.
H. was in ecstasies, ran to the door, drank in the cool
air by the throatful, and we had doors open and enjoyed ourselves mightily, for the hour or more that the
storm lasted. The wind cut up all sorts of antics,
whipping our grass lattice into shreds. The rain, too,
was by no means unwelcome, laying dust and coloring
the leaves. This evening H. and I took our first walk
out. Pony had gone to be shod, gone to Dindigal
-thirty-six miles off —just to get a set of new shoes!
We went to Lotus-tank back of the house, the gardeners carrying H. over the river in a chair.
I am about starting a school in Seymour's
church, where there has been none for some time.
Seymour came yesterday and said that a Roman
Catholic, who had been a sort of catechist, wished to
join our congregation, and suggested him for a teacher,
at one dollar and a half a month! I told him to bring
him here to-day. He came, and I thought I would
examine him a little; so I asked him to read. He
read passably well; then I took up geography. To be




300            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
safe, I started with fundamentals, and asked the shape
of the earth. His reply was, " I have not read the
Gospels." A hopeful case for a teacher, is he not?
However, I think I shall try him at least, keeping him
a little ahead of his classes.  He is a clever fellow, and
will get pupils, they say.
APRIL 5.
We have had a busy week of it. Saturday eve, a
week ago, the Tracys came in upon us, on their way to
the Hills. They stayed until Tuesday, leaving at two
in the morning. Tuesday evening the Burnells and
Miss Ashley came, leaving Thursday morning at the
same hour. Thursday the Hunts came, and left this
morning at two. Quite a run of company for us, fifty
miles from the metropolis. While the Burnells were
here, we had the nicest time; for as we were all seated
at the dinner-table, in walked our tapal-man, box on
head, and immediately delivered himself of what had
been on his mind a long time, foreign letters. Hurrah,
what a jumping and running! I got the letter-basket
and dealt out. The Burnells had a few, Miss Ashley
some, and I eleven letters! Such an astounding batch,
perfectly overwhelming. I did n't get through reading
them that night, but kept J.'s for morning. Such letters too! I read aloud to H. till I was hoarse, and we
shouted and laughed, till the other folks began to grow
jealous. We were all in capital humor, for only the
day before we had received the telegram telling us of
the capture of Forts Henry and Donelson, and the
retreat of the Rebels from Bowling-Green and Nashville.
APRIL 7.
Yesterday the church - members from the village




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            301
came up to our church here, and we partook of the
Lord's Supper together. It was my first service, and I
enjoyed it, though embarrassed by the language.  The
little church was about full of people.  A poor-looking
congregation, you would have thought, could you have
seen it, and so in truth it was; but I hope that some
of those present were true believers.  Before service,
Seymour said to me that there were three persons who
had been suspended from coming to communion for
about a year, on account of their having been foremost
in the quarrel which divided the church, who wished to
be received back, acknowledging their fault, and desiring to be at peace again with the others. The question
of receiving them was put on the spot, and they came
once more as Christians to the table of the Lord. I
looked upon it as an omen of good, an indication of the
return of better feeling. Nothing but the existence
of this estrangement between members of the church
prevents its growth. After service, the women came
forward to salaam H., whom they had not seen before,
and followed us then to the house, some of them asking for medicine for themselves and babies.
To-day, at eleven o'clock, I had a little prayer-meeting with Seymour, Manuel, my station catechist, and
Breckenridge, munshi. I propose to hold these meetings monthly, when we shall study together some portion of the Scripture, beginning with First Thessalonians, and talk about matters of interest here. It will
be a good thing to inspirit the pastor, who has been
somewhat disheartened by the state of things. I proposed to-day, too, to start monthly, or perhaps bimonthly, concerts of prayer for missions. There are
none in the station now. So I shall have Breckenridge




302            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
study up a set topic, and tell what he knows at the
catechists' meetings, and they will rehearse this to their
several congregations. Moreover, I mean to have the
pastor and others write letters to some mission, in hope
of receiving replies from native Christians abroad.
[Here closes the journal before the vacation on the
Pulney Hills. They had remained on the Plains until
late in the season, and the letters written at this time
showed evident signs of exhaustion from the prostrating
heat. But shortly after this last date, they followed
the other missionaries who had severally halted at
Periakulam before ascending the mountain, and joined
them on the summit.]




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             303
CHAPTER XIV.
ON THE PULNEY HILLS.
[16 APRIL-14 JUNE, 1862.]
[IT is a happy society that collects during the summer
months at the health-retreat of the mission upon the
Pulneys. All care is cast aside, and for a few weeks
India heat and enervation are forgotten in the enjoyment
of a northern climate. There are not enough houses in
the settlement for all the mission at once, so that an
arrangement is made by which the families spend the
former or latter half of the hot season upon the Hills,
alternating with each other. The society which can
be had only rarely below is here thoroughly enjoyed,
and the coolness of the air permits a kind of life which
had been wholly laid aside since leaving America. Beside the mission families, English officers, civil or army,
also resort to the health-retreat, so that quite a little
colony is maintained. How pleasant this change was
will be learned from the animated account which David
gives of the ascent and sojourn. His letters will indicate also how a period of cessation from work gave an
opportunity for more reflection, which was attended by
something of his old self-reproachful moods.]
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
KoDI KiNAL, PULNEY HILLS, April 18, 1862.
" Praise the Mount; I'm fixed upon it! " has been
not irreverently running in my head ever since we




304            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
crossed the brow of Nebo. Yes, we are actually up
on the Hills. Like the brave captain who stood by his
ship till he saw all safe out of her, and then put himself
into the boat, we have seen everybody else safe off the
burning plains, and have now left ourselves. The
clouds are sweeping up over the hills, and big birds are
sweeping by our window, as we sit in our cottage. I
am too full of business and feeling to write coherently,
I fear, but this incorrigible mail-day is hard by, and I
must not let one mail pass without writing.
But what a spot this is! Night before last we could
hardly breathe, it was so stifling and hot; last night I
could with difficulty breathe, the air was so rare.  We
have left our spacious mansion below, sweltering under
a temperature of 100~, and to-day sit in our snuggery,
with a fire in the air-tight stove. Night before last the
thinnest sheet was oppressive; last night we were comfortable with two thick blankets -..... Mr. Hunt and
I went out this morning to watch for Ar. Yorke. We
missed him, but planting the Stars and Stripes on the
high peak overlooking the plains and my house away
below, we amused ourselves with plunging rocks over
a big precipice, and seeing them go crashing, tearing
down for a mile or more. This afternoon we went into
the woods, plucked violets, Solomon's seal, eat raspberries, sat and chatted, cut grass for the horse, and did
everything that you at home do in the country, but that
dwellers on the plain can't do. I raced after the boys,
seized our United States flag, shouted out " Long may
it wave!" when our anti-North English doctor was
near, waved it at the English collector, as he came up
the hills just from Madura, and did other uncouth things
that I am capable of doing up here- not down there.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           305
But I suppose I must give you for once an orderly
account of how we got up to this height of joy. We
finished packing on Wednesday; we had crockery to
pack, books, of course, mattresses, etc. Then our matting must be rolled up and put out of reach of white
ants; picture-backs daubed with solution of corrosive
sublimate, to keep off book-worms; loose articles put
away. All the packages had to be weighed. Fifty
pounds is a Coolie load; if a box weighs over that the
contents must be reduced. All was done by nine
o'clock, and we lay down on the mattress after setting
the invaluable " ticker" at two o'clock. I had a restless nap, dreaming of Coolies and boxes and hills until
" rattle, rattle! " went the ticker, and we were on our
feet in a jiffy. I went out and roused the Coolie master,
and sent for Savarimuttu. Dressing for the trip was a
queer thing. There were we sweltering, thermometer
at 90~, and I proceeded to wrap up my poor body in
home fall-clothing. Boots that had slept eight months
were hauled out and pulled on, and a cloth coat must
come out of its hiding-place. Then the ayah must put
on more clothing than ever she had before. Manuel,
the catechist, was on hand to help us off. The Coolies,
about a dozen, and mostly women, were ready, and,
lifting the loads on to each others' heads, took up their
march. Three pack-horses jogged off, each with a
double load. Then our bullock-bandy was brought out
and bullocks attached. Baby was waked up, and evidently was amazed at the stir. Then leaving our last
orders and the keys with Manuel, the ayah, baby, H.,
and I tumbled into the bandy, Miss Julia staring with
all her eyes. The Coolies led the march, then followed
the bandy, the sweeper-woman's little boy running after
20




306            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
with a big bottle in his hand, then the sweeper, and
Savarimuttu leading his dog.
It is a good four miles to the tope (grove) at the
base of the hills. It was three o'clock, and the moon
was shining brightly, just past the full. The road was
familiar, but the drive delightful. We passed lots
of donkeys loaded with produce, bound for the hills,
and reached the tope about half-past four. There
the dhooly was awaiting us. This is a hill contrivance, you must know. It is a small palanquin, very
small, with a cloth covering arched over the box. H.
and baby were soon stowed in, and my tats were in
readiness. A tat is a native pony, about as large as a
big Shetland, very hardy, used mainly as a pack-horse.
To go up the hills we hire two for fifty cents. The
saddle was a native one, a cushion-like thing, and for
bridle I had a rope tied round his neck. Armed with
my cowhide, I mounted and sent the dhooly on ahead.
All the rest must walk. H. had four bearers, who
started off on a grunt. I made effort to keep up on my
beast, but did not learn the ways at first. I found the
only way to spur up was to get near enough to the
other horse that always kept in front, to slash him.
He would run and mine would follow. Just as we
started, the east was catching its first tint of red and
the birds were beginning their songs. A few rods on,
as we entered the gorge, the unwonted sound of running water greeted us. The dim moonlight cast a
sombreness over all that was very pleasing. The hills
on each side rose rapidly, and in front a great mountain closed the ravine.
As day broke, the outlines of the hills grew more distinct, and we began to see flowers on the trees and




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            307
shrubs on every side. By seven o'clock we had reached
the first stopping-place, about a third of the way up.
There was a brook, and we got some tolerably good
water. The Coolies took their breakfast, and rested
about half an hour, and all sorts of people, Coolies,
donkeys, horses gathered about, stopping, too, to get a
peep at baby. Just beyond we met our cows and pony
that had been sent on the day previous. The horsekeeper had an exciting story to tell about a tiger that
had scared pony so that he broke loose. The fact was,
that the man had felt rather reluctant to spend the
night on the road, as a tiger had killed some cows only
a day or two ago. They saw one, and were of course
frightened, but so was his highness. There is one
prowling about here; an Englishman saw him a week
ago. After leaving the half-way place, the road leads
right up the face of the mountain that has been facing
you. So steep is the hill that the zigzags seem almost
parallel lines. I walked a good deal to spare pony,
which I had now taken, running after flowers for H.;
getting out of breath in cutting across, but catching
good long whiffs of the delicious air that now and then
would steal over us. From the hill-side we could look
back on the plains beyond the gorge, from constantly
higher positions, and we made free use of interjections.
At last the tiresome zigzag was over, we shot round
the shoulder of this hill, and came in full view of the
range on which the houses are. Here Mr. Hunt's
horse came in sight. He had sent it to relieve mine.
Looking up way above, I could see two white-covered
umbrellas, and the horse-keeper said these were Mr.
Burnell and Mr. Taylor. I pushed ahead, and in
quarter of an hour I came up with them in a beautiful




308            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
grove. Shaking hands over, Mr Burnell gave me a
cup of water that made my teeth ache from the cold.
Then Mr. Taylor coolly handed me a ripe peach! Oh,
what a sight, what a taste! H. soon came up, and Mr.
Taylor had another for her. This was one mile from
the top, and the hardest pull was yet to come.  The
Coolies take one path and horses another; so leaving
H., I pushed ahead, walking and riding with the two
gentlemen. Half-way up, lots of boys came racing to
meet us, and at last turning a corner, we came in sight
first of the little church, then of one house and of another, until the whole collection burst upon us, nestling
among the swelling hills that stretch away to the west.
On top of the hill we rounded is Mr. Noyes's house.
Across a deep valley from that are two other houses
besides this, and still further on, hugging a forest, are
two others and the church.
The whole top of this range is formed of beautifully
rounded knolls, with valleys between, bare of trees
save now and then a clump, but clothed with grass.
Their smooth slopes form a most pleasing contrast to
the sharp ridges of the peaks seen from the plain. As
we came to Mr. Noyes's house, we were met by another
squad of still younger ones. A few moments after I
reached the top, H. appeared by another road. I galloped across the valley to see Mr Hunt, who was hallooing at me, and H. soon followed. The first good breath
of cold air that baby caught scared her so that she
screeched and screamed and sobbed most fearfully.
She became still after a while, but it took a day fairly
to reconcile her to her new home.
Well, we are fairly here, and have a snug jug of a
house to ourselves. It is a little place, indeed, this




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           309
Rock Cottage. It is actually on a big flat rock, and
under a hill or slope. But there is no prospect from it,
except the uninteresting valley, beyond which is Mr.
Noyes's house. We are writing this Saturday evening
in our parlor. This room, as indeed the bedroom
next it, looks like a big omnibus. The roof is tiled,
but the tiles are hidden by a whitewashed cloth,
fastened so as to look like the top of an omnibus. I
can touch it with my hand. There are two windows
opposite each other, one three feet high, the other two
feet and a half. The bedroom joins it at the end, and
is a trifle smaller, with one window a foot square.  At
the end of this is the dining-room, big enough to hold a
table and chair in length, and a little less wide. So we
are cribbed, cabined, and confined; quite a descent
from our palace on the plains. But what of that?
we have a home climate, and any quarters would be
acceptable. Oh, how cold the water is! And how I
have tramped to-day. Out at six this morning with
H., Mrs. Hunt, and Miss A. on horses, Mr. Hunt, Mr.
Tracy, and the boys on foot. We sent the ladies home
and then wandered about, rolling rocks down precipices, and gambolling as the freak took us. But the
best of it was that we saw two ibexes, beautiful creatures, bigger than goats, skipping along on a slope away
below us. We don't see them every day here.
Then after breakfast I went to get some wood.
Each one has to go into the woods, find a dead log, sit
on it, claim it, and have it hauled out. When out in
the woods, Mr. Yorke came here to find me. Hearing
of it, I raced back. He had come for me to go in
bathing; so we roused up Mr. Hunt and the Tracys,
then took in Mr. Burnell and Mr. Taylor, and started




310            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
off, Mr. Hunt on horseback. It was about eleven
o'clock, —think of trudging off at such an hour in
India, almost sure death below! We walked and
walked, up hill and down, for over an hour, coming
upon a beautiful trout-like stream, and following it up
till we came to a fine waterfall of perhaps forty feet,
at the base of which lay a delicious pool of most inviting look.  Off and in, but whew, how cold! I hardly
ever bathed in such apparently cold water at home.
We swam and frolicked like boys, as boys we were,
and then sunned ourselves and started back.  Mr.
Yorke and I lingered behind and clambered over the
hills by a new way home, getting back by a little after
two.
One day has been the over-making of me, all my old
life has come back, and I mean to enjoy myself here to
the full. So like home: anemones and Solomon's seal,
violets and lots of little familiar flowers laugh at you
and drive away the gloom. Think of having a cane
made of geranium-stalk!  Rhododendrons grow  on
trees as large as apple-trees. I have set the boys to
work catching butterflies for S. They are not very
plenty, but now that I hear of the safe arrival of my
first despatches to S. I shall repeat the experiment
often. It hailed here yesterday, and we frightened the
ayah by putting a hailstone in her hands. She dropped
it as if it had been a coal.
APRIL 24.
As I write there is a fearful storm of rain, thunder,
and lightning raging outside. The rain penetrates the
roof too; it is an awful storm, hardly a dry spot in
the house. The ayah, who sleeps in the dining-room,
has come in here to get comfort; she is scared. I had




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            311
a nice ramble with pony this morning. The top of
these hills is most singular. All the eminences are of
a like height and contour. Each one has a rounded
head and slopes gradually down till it reaches a stream
below. It is hard, for this reason, to cross from one to
another, as a deep ravine divides and a grove skirts
one side or the other. There seems to be no end to
these hills. We had a grand sight from Nebo, a peak
near by the house and a favorite resort, a morning
or two since: clouds covered the whole plain so that
nothing beyond us was visible, except now and then a
hill-top, looking like an island in the ocean.  The
clouds were away below, but I presume looked from
below as clouds usually do; from above there was
much the appearance of a broken sea of ice, covered
with snow, the cakes tossed up in the wildest confusion.
By-and-by the cloud-sea broke up and the plain once
more appeared. I saw a similar sight once from the
Catskill, when we were there together, you remember,
but it did not compare with this for grandeur.....
Another fine excursion was to a spot about three
miles off, where we looked down upon Bow Village.
Whether the people are archers or not I cannot say,
but they certainly have chosen a most romantic spot
for a home. Down deep in a valley they can cultivate only by raising terraces, which, looked at from
the height where we were, presented a very pretty appearance.  The whole view would furnish a taking
theme for an artist's pencil. On the way we scared
two deer which soon fled into the jungle.
APRIL 28.
We have a tiger here! This afternoon I went over




312           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
to the lower houses to see the people, and was told on
entering that they were looking after a leopard. That
was game somewhat novel, so I started off in pursuit.
Some wood-cutters told me where the gentlemen were,
and I soon met them coming back without the game.
We came up to the wood-cutters, and found that one
of them knew about the beast, that a horse had been
killed by it, and he could show the spot. So back we
went, some on horse and some on foot. About a quarter of a mile beyond the houses is a deserted spot which
goes by the name of the Bombay dhorie's house. Dhorie is "gentleman."  It is a beautiful spot, deserted
six years since, and now rankly overgrown with thistles,
roses, geraniums, peas, and honeysuckles. Friday last
H. and I had wandered through the woods to the spot,
and enjoyed ourselves, all unconscious of our probable
proximity to the beasts of the wood. A long avenue
of tall geraniums leads to the house. To this place,
in the open field, the guide took us and pointed to a
spot in the grass where there had evidently been a tussle. He then followed along by the wood, showing
where the beast had dragged his prey. A little further
on a large round stone, which had been sunk quite
deep in the earth, had been pulled out, and upon it
were horse-hairs.  We began to comment on the
strength of the animal that could lug a horse in such
style. Now the trail entered the wood and we followed,
having hard work to make our way through the thicket.
We came to a pool of blood, and a few rods further on
came upon a sight that looked indeed like murder.
The entrails were lying spread out entire, while a few
steps beyond was the head of a horse, with the legs
and ribs, a startling proof that this was no hoax as




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            313
some had averred.  The head was untouched, but
underneath we could see the hole that the animal had
made in the neck, evidently when springing upon him.
Well, we had the facts, and now what did the deed?
Certainly it must have been a powerful brute that
could have dragged a horse so far, through the jungle
and up-hill too. No chetah did that, we all said; it was
a tiger.  To-night our opinion is confirmed.  There is
an old sportsman on the hills who went to look at the
spot. He says that nothing but a tiger, and a large one
at that, did the deed; that he has been twice to the spot
and is in the wood now. So there is a story for you.
It is a little exciting I assure you to think that a
Royal Bengal is actually about in such close neighborhood. When the Deputation was here, a tiger broke
into Mr. Taylor's cow-house and carried off an ox,
actually having to break away the gate-posts in the
attempt to get him out. There are two chetahs just
over a hill near by. In this wood there are two troops
of very singular-looking black monkeys. They are as
big- as ordinary sheep, and leap immense distances. It
is really frightful to come across them.  They have an
astonishing roar, a most unearthly sound, a boo! hoo!
with an awful gurgling-like sound following it. Mr.
Yorke shot one on Saturday; it fell dead from the top
of a high tree, and instantly after, down came another
like a flash. He thought he had killed two, but to his
astonishment the last jumped off and away before he
could get his gun to his shoulder.
A few days ago a party of us went on horseback to Glen Falls, a place close by Bow Village.
Coming home we struck off to view an ancient fortification. On the top of low hills we not unfrequently




314           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
find circular enclosures surrounded with a stone-wall,
and below, a range of terraces. They appear to be
the sites of ancient villages, with these enclosures for
the protection of cattle against wild beasts.  As we
were riding toward one, Mr. Taylor spied a herd of
bison, and at once gave the shout, for it is a rare sight
here nowadays. They were on a slope about two miles
off, but our glasses brought them near enough for us to
make out some twenty-five with calves, grazing wholly
unconscious of being ogled by a lot of white folk. It
would have been a rich haul for a huntsman. Formerly they used to be in this wood where the tiger is,
but they have been gradually driven away.  Mr. Burnell has been up here eight times and has never before
seen a bison, so you see I seem to be having all the
sights on my first visit. A gentleman told me that on
the mountains bounding the Kambam valley, on the
south, is a vast tract of unexplored land; that, travelling once across it, he came upon a heathen temple,
either built of or covered with brass, a resort of pilgrims; that so wild was the spot that elephants wandered into the temple enclosure and actually slept in
the temple itself. You see I am full of tiger to-night,
and so tell you all the wild stories I can muster.
MAY 3.
All excitement to-day again, not from the tiger however, but from a more harmless thing, - a box. The
box has not come yet, but it is coming and within
friendly hail. The expectation of its arrival has kept
us on the alert all day. The washer-man, who brought
up the clothes to-day, said that he saw a box on the
way, which I thought would pass for the long-looked



DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           315
for box, so I seized the spy-glass and ran to a hill about
a quarter of a mile off, which commanded the road for
a long distance. Nothing to be seen. In the evening
a taphl-man was to be in, so I waited anxiously for
that arrival, expecting also a telegram. He came at
last, bringing no news except that England was to reconstruct her navy, from the result of the engagement
between the Merrimac and Monitor.  But the man
said he had seen no box. Soon after Mrs. Noyes rode
over with a letter from  Mr. Noyes, at Periakulam,
which settled matters.  We had the contents of the
box, with the intelligence that they should be sent up
on Monday morning, — to-day is Saturday.  On the
list was a bundle of books weighing fifteen pounds.
What it can be I can't guess. However we shall rest
over Sunday.  But all this fuss and fume would n't
have been, if I had not been disappointed before, and
of this I must needs tell you, as a faithful chronicler.
My catechists were to meet me below on the 30th,
Wednesday.  We had calculated also that our flour
and boxes would reach Periakulamn by the same date.
So it was arranged that I should go down and take
Sav. with me to put the flour into tins at once. Sav.
started off Tuesday morning before sunrise. At two
o'clock precisely I started, proposing to foot it down
half-way and ride on a tat from there to the base, meeting my bandy there.  I trudged off manfully and
reached the half-way place in just two hours. There
I found my tat and mounted him. He was a raw beast,
but I kept my temper for a while. Before long, however, the clouds began to blacken, and the muttering
among the hills told me to prepare for a mountain-storm.
We have one almost daily toward night. I hurried the




316           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
nag as well as I could for half the distance, when the
drops began to fall. Then I got off and hurried on,
on foot. A brisk walk would, I hoped, carry me safe
through; but a whiff behind made me turn round, when
I saw the wind come tearing dozwn the valley behind.
I started on a trot, but the wind gave chase, tossing the
water of the little stream  away below me into foam,
and whirling the leaves and dust about me. I saw I
was in for a run, so in the hope of outstripping the
rain and reaching my bandy, I put in and tore down
the path in a real old-fashioned Williams-College gait.
But it was no use. Pat came the big drops, faster and
faster, and soon sharp lightning, and peals of thunder joined in, till I was in the midst of a storm that
for wild fury beat any storm that I ever was in. It
was from behind and the wind blew me along, while
the big drops of rain and the hail pelted me most unmercifully. In five minutes I was wet to the skin,
and concluding that running down below would not
keep me dry, I held up and trudged philosophically
along, as well as my water-logged boots would let me.
The storm was soon spent of its force, and when at last
I reached the bandy it was quiet. I got in, hauled off
my boots, wrapped myself in the dusty bandy-covering
and felt comfortable. But I was not to be left so long.
The bullocks went slowly and I tried to hurry the man,
as we had four miles more to the house. He said that
one bullock was sick, and the bullock soon showed his
indisposition by quietly lying down. There he lay.
The driver pulled and tugged and coaxed, twisted his
tail, tied his nostrils up so that he could not breathe,
and resorted to all the ordinary and extraordinary expedients familiar to bandy-men, but in vain.  So I,




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            317
disgusted, pulled on my boots, after a deal of labor,
and set out on foot again. But my heels were sore, and
I spied my tat hobbling along in the rear. I waited
and tried him for about half a mile, but he was too
slow, absolutely; so I dismounted and stood it out to
the house, which I reached at exactly six, a remarkably good go for this country. I had a good bath and
rub and was as well as ever; a little better too, for our
tapal-man came from Madura bringing the first instalment of home goods in the shape of two " Bibliotheca
Sacras " containing my article. I was quite interested
in looking over the articles, reminding me as they did
of the acquaintance who got them up. I was better
still when nine o'clock brought Mr. Rendall along on
his way to the hills, and having in charge all the overlands.
Wednesday the catechists came and I spent a good
part of the day with them, hearing reports and lessons.
They have lessons in the Bible, Church History, Theology, Catechism, etc., to recite.  No bandies came,
and on Thursday I again had the catechists, and a very
pleasant meeting it was too. One of the subjects up
for discussion was Self-Denial, and we had quite an
animated time over it. Pastor Seymour told a curious
story of a man in Periakulam, whom he had lately
seen, who for one whole year had gone without speaking a word, and for another year without asking a
question. He told Seymour that he did it to "subdue
himself." I am getting the catechists to learn about
missions, and had Breckenridge give an account of the
Nestorians. I shall have Seymour write a letter to
them, perhaps to Mar Yohannan, and hope thus to put
the people in communication. I shall try the same
thing with other missions.




318           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
Still the bandies did not come, and in despair I determined to go up the hills again in the morning, and by
eleven o'clock I was again at the top. By next morning I learned that the goods reached Periakulaln the
evening of the day I left. But Monday noon will bring
them doubtless, and then what a time we will have.
[The box which causes such excitement, is one
which friends at home find opportunity to send by ship
every few months, and which contains beside flour and
other necessaries, the numerous tokens of home remembrance, and the papers, books, and periodicals which
cannot be sent by mail. One can guess the twofold
pleasure which a box would create, in the sending and
the receiving.]
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
MAY 9.
The box has come! after plenty of delays it has
come. Monday morn I went out with my marine glass
on to Mount Nebo, which overlooks the plain, and
tried to spy out the long-looked-for box, which was to
come up that morning. And not in vain, for away
below I could just descry two men lugging some big
thing swung on a pole. I watched them till they carne
tolerably near, and then ran back to tell H. The box
very provokingly stopped to rest on the hill just opposite, close by, in full sight; but though I got all the
coolies to shout after it, it would not budge for half an
hour. At last it came, and I triumphantly led it into
our little room and attacked it with hammer instantly.
We made as long a job of it as possible, making a
rule to open only one package at a time. One of the




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            319
first things that turned up was a serious-looking bundle,
promising something extensive, and which set us agog
as we read on a slip of paper outside, " Here's fun."
Unwrapping it, another slip disclosed itself with "Must
be something patriotic; see the red, white, and blue,"
and a flag appeared of dimensions small. I began to
suspect somebody and that somebody S. The fellow
was at his old pranks, and I made preparations for storing a supply of string. I was not wrong, but did n't
obey one slip's injunction, " Cut the string," and
was bound to see the fun through. So, after patiently
unknotting twelve successive snarls, the bundle rapidly
diminishing, we came at last as our reward to a stereogram of a soldier's tent. We used ourselves up laughing over that.  Then came a book.      "Littell's,"
etc., came out, all in due time, until finally the whole
box was emptied, when I got into it to find a clear
place in the room to stand in. Such a litter as this
room has been in since!
[TO HORACE E. SCUDDER.]
PULNEY HILLS, May 16, 1862.
I often picture our meeting years hence.
The circle of acquaintance is already changing.  Two
uncles and a cousin have passed from the world and
will soon from mind, and no year probably will go
by without witnessing similar changes.  Then we who
live shall change, and not having been with you I shall
be startled at your appearance, and you at mine, for I
have no doubt that in many things our sympathies will
have become estranged, which would not have been the
case had I remained in America.  Already I have
changed. I lhave a baby. and I sit and rock her to




320           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
sleep or carry her about in my arms, as if I never had
been a stranger to the little thing. I fear my years do
not add worth to my character. Whether it be the
climate or not, I am not sure, but certainly I am not
the systematic, plodding hand that I once was. I shirk
work with fewer stings from conscience than once was
true.  I see many opportunities for at least fancied
good, which I do not improve; duties plainly imperative I lay aside for engagements more consonant with
taste. How difficult it is to reform, to change old habits.... But how I have been running on about my
poor self, forever making resolutions, forever breaking
them.
Oh, H., you don't know how I want to go home
sometimes. I fear I am a poor missionary in spirit,
not that homesickness is a sin, - but a feeling of selfishness comes over me. It is easier to live a Christian
life at home.  Extraneous promptings to labor are
plenty there, here very few. Here am I set down
twenty miles from any white body, with an illimitable
work to do, a work which will more than meet my
ability to labor, a field where the best powers could
work freely, and nothing to prompt me to work, save
my own spirit. Little or no adequate sympathy will
you find among the natives, little or no opportunity for
displaying yourself.  There is no approved model or
method of working, at least none so binding as you find
in a home pastorate. The people are not at all solicitous for your services, and you have no invitation in the
character of your audiences to display your talents.
Your work is to impress upon most unimpressible material the pure truth of the Word. You ought to go
and talk to a people day after day, who don't want to




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           321
hear you, about things wholly repugnant to them, and
which find little response in their consciences.  Our
religion is not popular or even respectable, as it is at
home, and the coarsest minds shrink from appearing
before a crowd, only to be laughed at.
And then the quiet pleasures of a home pastorate
come before me. Here our best energies are expended
in making the mere tools for our work, - bare words.
All the time thus employed here - in itself of no
value scarcely —is gained at home where your tools
are at hand, for other work. So that the actual amount
of labor put forth by a missionary in preaching is much
less than that of a home pastor in the same time, a
point not to be forgotten. Yes, I do want to go home
sometimes, and like E. run down to old Boston.  I
suppose it is human nature to think and feel so, but I
do want to have such thoughts swallowed up in brighter
and truer, nobler ones.  Life is quickly over, and I
sometimes picture the good time we shall have in another world in talking together about things that have
happened since we parted. Could you come with me
to Nebo and look down on my wide field with me, you
would say, - " What an inspiring view! "  It is, and
there is everything in it to nerve a real Christian to
jubilant labor. Here is where I want your help and
that of all at home. Help me to labor in courage and
in faith.
[TO HIS SISTER.]
KoDI KINAL, May 20, 1862.
We are on the Pulneys, of whose fame you have
heard so much. You would relish racing about on
these hills, especially after having been in the furnace
below for a twelvemonth. The country is very, very
21




322           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
different from mountain country at home. If you go
to the White Hills, you have to go up and up a long
way before you come to the genuine Washington.
Here you ride along on the dead level, till you come
plump abut a range of mountains. The effect of this
from the summit is peculiar; for so close to you do the
plains seem, that you fancy you could jump off on to
them. Then again, if you go up Mount Washington,
you find about room enough to turn round on tiptoe
in; here, the top of the hills is much like the second
story in the old Chatham  House, quite as spacious as
the lower, only a little more wavy. You can go an indefinite distance, all the while eight thousand feet above
the plains. It is exactly a second story, only instead
of being level, like an Indian plain, it is diversified, like
Berkshire County.
We have three weeks more of leave, and then return
to our Plain life. It will be to me much like beginning
life here, for I shall have a full year in view, as I have
not had before. It will be an interesting and test year
with me. It will prove either my worthiness or incapacity, and I do dread it not a little. Any amount
of work is possible; a broad field and plenty of ways
of doing good, in any one of which I shall have occasion to try my best powers. Shall I have the spirit to
meet all cases? Shall I conquer indolence, worldliness,
false ambition, personal preferences, and set myself with
a hearty will to battle against this gigantic heathenism?
I tell you, J., I dread the encounter, for I do feel my
weakness. Yet the work to be done is plainly before
me, and if I fail, I foresee that upon myself the blame
will fall. It is a hard field, yet not by any means a
discouraging one, for if one choose he can succeed in




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            323
throwing a better spirit into the community where he
labors. But this can be done only by being possessed
entirely with the Spirit of God. Our power, our courage is from Him only, and we can't help seeing this in
India.
[TO A NEPHEW, H. B. S.]
KODI KINAL, May 27, 1862.
Don't think from the heading of this letter that I
am an amphibious dog, spending a part of my life in a
canal, or acting the part of the individual whose business it is to sing out, "Bridge! heads, gemmen!"
Kdnal is " grove," which alters the picture at once, and
places me in a more romantic situation, one corresponding better with fact.
Your letter was welcome enough, showing me that I
had not lost my uncleship by exiling myself out of all
reach of you..... It was a regular vacation epistle,
a lazy, meandering, sunshiny, clever thing, but did not
smack of the days when Virgil or Horace or Day must
be whipped off, and room made for stationery.  Send
me another, clear from Berkshire, that shall be redolent of Flora's Glen, New (Boot-jack) Street, College
Hydrant, and West College, if you want to stir the
deeps in an old collegian's heart. Could n't you let out
whether you are'Logian or —what was the name of
that other across the way? But perhaps the old halls
are deserted, and young Williams enjoys better accommodations.
You know, Harry, an old dog always talks or
barks sagely, an old crab is forever telling his children
crabs not to crawl so one-sidedly; so I, looking back
over my sprawling and hobbling career through college,
feel terribly like taking you by the button, and reading




324           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
a little lesson to your innocence. But I suppose you
will be a Soph by the time this reaches you, and be
important enough in your own eyes at least not to
need lecturing. However, take a leaf or two from
my experience. Don't be afraid of fresh air and outdoor work. Gymnasium is good, but Northwest Hill
is better. Don't think because you don't expect to be
Astronomer Royal that calculus is of no use to you, or
give up trying to be a good scholar because you did not
have as good a " fit" in one thing as another. Don't
lie by lazily because you don't need to study hard to
get the lessons; the tortoise will be clawing your back
if you don't persist in keeping ahead. Don't go fishing always inside the breakwater of tasks assigned, but
go outside in rough sailing and look out for other fish.
Take up some subject that you like and follow it up,
finding out all you can about it - let it be the history
of the Aztecs or the Pottawatomies. (I wish you
would write me a treatise on Cromlechs, who built
them, etc.) Read a little and eat the words; read not
for quantity, but for quality. (A groan-" Oh that I
had done so!" D. C. S.)  Don't (What! another
"don't?") think that I mean to bother you any
more. Let me wind up with one good do. Maintain
the reputation, not of a race of Scudders, but of your
heavenly Master. Guide your course in college by
that thought, and you can't go far wrong.
[TO HIS FATHER.]
KODI KINAL, June 5, 1862.
Your abundant and always most excellent journals
deserve more than a general journal reply, but I am
unable to find time enough to answer as amply as I




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            325
could wish. To-day, though, you must of course have
a letter all to yourself, for if I write common folk upon
their birthdays, above all should I write you. It is a
subject of personal rejoicing to me that you have fairly
arrived at this landmark. As far back as I can remember, I have given as answer to persons who,
wondering at your activity, have asked your age,
seventy-three. To me you have stood stock-still for I
don't know how long a time; if I could hope that it
would be in future as in past, I should be glad to hold
you still, but I fear that is impossible, so I rejoice
that hereafter I shall have some confidence in pronouncing you seventy-three. It is a real pleasure to
me to know that how many soever years you mark
upon your calendar, you will to me continue where you
were when I saw you last, and I can, must always
think of you as the kind, cheerful father that I knew
then.
This is a blue day to me; various circumstances
have made me feel unhappy..... I don't see, and
never did see, where my gloominess and sulkiness and
down-heartedness came from.  Certainly not from
either of you, and yet there is nothing that causes me
so much grief..... Dear father, a man whose heart
was the abode of no one but the Holy Spirit, would be
full of joy at the prospect before him in such a field as
mine. Here are countless numbers who know nothing
of the gospel, to whom the gospel is capable of imparting infinite good. It is in my power to give it to them,
- nothing whatever hinders but time. I ought to leap
at the thought of the opportunity, while, in fact, it is
usually a hard trial for me to preach to the heathen.
In our weekly prayer-meeting up here, which fell to




326            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
my charge this afternoon, I remarked on these words of
Paul, "W e also believe and therefore speak," and the
others followed in the same strain. Belief is requisite
to preaching, and according to the depth and firmness
of our belief will be the fervency of our labors. Abundance to do, and nothing in the way but an unbelieving
heart. In one week we go to the Plains again, and my
prayer is, that I may have grace to overcome my
natural diffidence, fear of man, and love of quiet ease,
and be bold and untiring in preaching the truth.
To do what I ought, I must be away from home a
great deal, in fact more than half the time. This in
itself is hard for me and hard for H. She is alone then,
sixteen miles from any one, and I am constantly solicitous lest some evil shall occur in my absence. I grow
weary of being away in uncomfortable places, seeing
nobody but poor heathen, and as I cannot be out in the
daytime much, I have abundance of time for reverie.
I must make some arrangement by which I can carry
on my studies in my absence from home, and occupy
my time fully. As mother knows, I am sure to be out
of sorts if I am out of work. I do easily get tired of
talking. I don't think that naturally I like to talk,
except to boon companions on pet topics, and I need to
rouse myself to converse on religion with everybody I
meet. But all these difficulties may in time be overcome, if God's grace be but granted, and that is always
procurable. I certainly am deeply interested in my
work, and feel at times enthusiastic enough.  I look
forward to entering anew upon it, with really pleasurable anticipation. I am still tempted, however, to turn
aside from legitimate labor to work at topics always
interesting to me now, as they were at home, but




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            327
which are not of direct bearing upon my missionary
work..... We have a pleasant household.  Our headservant Savarimuttu is invaluable. His own father is
cook. The two gardeners and the horse-keeper are all
good friends of these two, and all moves on harmoniously.
It seems a great number, but were you here, you would
see the necessity. A common Yankee is worth three
or four Hindus..... I don't wonder that you are
happy in your old days in looking at what we purpose
to be. What a singular feeling this of paternity is.
How I look at little Julia and ponder over the subtle
way in which her immortality is locked in with mine.
I believe I have given her to the Lord, but there remains so much to do; the giving does not release me
from responsibility, but binds me in it the more strongly.
How you would delight to have another little granddaughter to play with. She is full of smiles, and as
good as a child knows how to be. Oh, how I hope
she will be a good girl!
[TO GEO. D. DUTTON, ESQ.]
KODI KINAL, June 12, 1862..... I trust that the good people at home will not
contract any extravagant notions as to the barbarousness of our surroundings. We are amongst heathen
truly, and bad enough ones, still we are not outlawed
from all comforts and conveniences.  As we did not
come out with the intention of making ourselves as uncomfortable as possible, we do not deem it out of place
to take in a comfort when one happens along. I take
it that the principle upon which a Christian missionary,
as every Christian man, should act in life, is to place




328            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
himself, as far as is in his power, in just such a position
as shall insure the best possible use of. his faculties.
We need comforts for the flesh in India more than you
at home; that is, we take from the list of luxuries, as
you deem them, and label them necessaries. Missionaries here are not extravagant at all; indeed, they cannot well be on their salaries. At first sight, one fancies
that money goes farther in India than in America, since
labor is so much cheaper and food simpler; but in truth
many things unite to raise living to about the same
notch in expense that one reaches at home. Wages of
one man are low, but a man here is not worth one
fifth as much as a man at home, as respects the amount
of work you can get from him. The people are not
exactly lazy, but work is not in them. Then it is impossible wholly to ignore the customs of the country;
in India we must do as the Hinduis do.....
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
JUNE 13.
I begin my journal on the Hills, the evening before
moving down. Our boxes are pretty much all packed,
ready for the heads of Coolies to carry them. Pony is
to go half-way, early in the forenoon, and a little afterward we shall follow: H. in the dhooly, as she came
up, and I on foot, till I catch up with pony. I am
bound not to put up with tats, the wretched beasts that
I rode up..... Well, we have done with the Hills
for one year. We certainly have been bettered physically by our stay. I feel much less of the lassitude and
reluctance to work that had crept upon me on the
Plains, and go down with spirits a little more alive for
work. There will be plenty to do, I assure you. A




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            329
catechists' meeting comes in a few days. Then I must
put the whole station into better working order, visit
the congregations at once, and prepare for an early tour
of exploration through my whole field..... The
southwest monsoon has set in. It blows most furiously, and brings clouds of dust, but it generally cools
the atmosphere. It has been intensely hot below for
a few days past, thermometer over 90~ at 5 P. M.; but
I hope the winds have moderated the temperature, so
that it may be a little more endurable for us. But we
must put a bold face upon it. At the best it will be
hot.




330           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
CHAPTER XV.
RETURN TO THE PLAINS — TOURING.
[JUNE-OCTOBER, 1862.]
[THE vacation of eight weeks over, the missionaries
returned to their work on the hot plains. The rest had
refreshed David; he had also gained, I think, new and
more quiet resolution. He saw before him a year of
toil, the character of which had been made known by
his short experience, and he looked fully in the face the
discouragements that awaited him. He retained his old
buoyancy, but he was growing more constantly thoughtful: not care-worn, but care-sobered. I cannot forbear
reminding the reader how, in the midst of his sorrowful
self-reproach at opportunities of good lost or thrown
away, we see him turning again to work with unceasing energy, confirmed in his habits of devout confidence in God, and inquiring diligently the will of his
Master.'"Nothing," writes an associate, Mr. Washburn, " could deter him, whether he was at home or on
journeys, as I have often seen him, from protracted
philological and devotional study of the Bible in the
morning, and in the evening from private meditation
and prayer.  I have been astonished at the jealousy
with which he regarded these habits. It was his wont
to walk on the veranda in the dusk of eve and review
the day. If he was occupied with company or other
disturbance, he retired to the roof, and there, beyond
the reach of any who knew his habits, he communed




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            331
with himself and his God. If it could be said that no
one was so enamored of philosophical and antiquarian pursuits, it could also be said that no one among
us had studied the sense and language of the Bible
more thoroughly or sought more devoutly its spirit."
It was in this temper of loyalty to his Master that
he worked patiently, cheerfully, and with the enthusiasm which so often thrilled him. He gave himself no
time for reluctant thoughts or unwise expectations;
backward he did look, often, to the group of friends
whom he had left in America. Before leaving home, a
stereograph had been taken of the family in the house
where he had lived; regularly each Sunday morning,
when not touring, did David sit over his stereoscope, his
eye riveted on this group, seizing hold by his memory
of every line in the faces, every attitude and expression.  But he turned away from  this sad pleasure
doubtless with more earnest purpose to the work at
hand, looking, how wistfully his letters sometimes show,
to a more perfect union in a better world. His own
removal was nearer than he knew; but the faith which
bade him look to that coming day, inspired him also
with more ceaseless daily diligence.]
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
PERIAKULAM, June 27, 1862.
Yesterday one year ago was a day to be remembered, when we first saw Madras, and first touched
Indian soil, and first breathed Indian air. We shall not
soon forget it. I can see the first footprint I made on
the beach; I can breathe over again that first breath,
the like of which I have not known since, — all the
impression of that first stifling evening and the next




332            LIFE AND LETTERS OF'
morning. One year has gone; two years it seems to
me at least. Certainly but one year in my life has
been of like interest or importance to me. Now just
about one year from my landing, we begin life fairly,
for now we are down from the hills, and have a full
year clearly in view. I cannot feel wholly despondent
upon looking at my position.  I certainly am better
off in the language than most at a year's distance from
their starting-point, which is due of course to my having studied at home; but I am equally and more sure
that it is owing to culpable negligence that I am not
much farther on. The coming year will, I think, witness more satisfactory progress.
[TO SAMUEL H. sCUDDER.]
PERIAKULAM, July 1, 1862.
I have been wishing I were at home to-day. I do
sometimes. I often think of home, you may believe,
but now and then I have a crying after it. It is almost
always associated with a sense of my unfitness for the
place I occupy. This day sadness arose from a failure
in duty yesterday morning. Early in the morning I
took a handful of tracts and started off to preach in
the village alone. I thought I should succeed, but
when I reached the village my fancied courage fled;
and after walking about, where was any amount of
people ready to listen, I turned and came back, my
conscience all the while hammering at me, and I virtually saying, "I know it, but I won't."  That it is a
severe cross to me is true, but no excuse for actual
dereliction. It is very hard for me to go into a crowd
whose language I can't understand to a tenth part, and
stammer out facts that they don't want to hear, and I




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            333
feel that the simple secret of it all is that my love is
not strong enough to bear up against the pressure of
disinclination. But if I cannot do this, what am I
staying about here for? To many persons this work
is scarcely at all trying; it always was to me at home,
and it is here. The circumstances are more favorable
here, save that we know the language so poorly. The
people are seldom disrespectful, and always fear you in
a measure. But next week I am going upon an extended tour through my field and must preach..... As we were driving this afternoon I met a
Brahman with a native book in his hand. I stopped
and asked him what it was, and he said "the Veda."
It was a large palm-leaf book, and was only a tenth
of the whole. He was rather scared at my talk, but
gradually became more communicative, and engaged to
come to the house next Monday and bring me some
books. It was just the thing I wanted to see. Precious little learning have these people, and miserable
beings they truly are. Yet it is not an improbable
supposition which has been broached to account for the
fact that so few Brahmans have received the truth,
that they are sunk more deeply in sin, moral pollution,
than the common people. I believe they are.
[TO HORACE E. SCUDDER.]
PERIAKULAM, July, 1862.
I have had in mind for a long while to write you a
letter in answer to your request, giving you a minute
(accent on the first syllable) account of the daily life
of your exiled brother. I fear that the most finely
drawn-out story will fail to give any adequate picture
of life here, where all the surroundings are so utterly




334            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
antipodal to yours, — trees and ground and sounds
and moving creatures of every grade so different. But
such as it is I will give.
Tile sun rises in May at 5.36, in January at 6.30;
and these are the extremes in the year.  This morning
it rose at 5.47. It is not light before five. I mean to
get up by five, but resolves in India are as apt to be
broken as in America, especially when you sleep in the
same room with a baby, who pays no sort of regard to
the ordinary laws of man. I am usually, when at
home, awakened by somebody, gardener and nurse
perhaps, talking on the veranda.  I retire to the room
close by, rubbing my eyes and peering somewhat cautiously about lest there be a cobra in the bathing-tub,
as there was one morning. Then I bathe, usually in
the style peculiar to this country, by pouring water over
me, for which operation a place is sunk in the floor.
During this process I muse upon my somnolency, and
solemnly affirm that next morning shall see me prevent
the dawn. Appearing outside I usually find all doors
open, the ayah sitting on the floor, doing her hair,the amount of her or any native lady's toilet; the
sweeper-woman sweeping the hall with her little wispbroom, stooping till you begin to think her back will
break; and lastly Savarimuttu, who touches his hand to
his head and says, " Good morning." His first business is to provide a cup of tea and a couple of slices
of toast. This answers until nine o'clock, the breakfast-hour.
Two courses are now open. If I am to preach, I
summon Manuel Sylvester, and together we trudge off
for some mud village, within three miles, and preach
for half an hour; or I go to the town alone and meet




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           335
the pastor. My habits are not thoroughly settled yet.
This morning, as Manuel is not at home and I do not
think it advisable to go without a catechist, I stayed at
home and tried to put in order my grindstone which
has lain unused thus long. In the mean time everybody has waked up. H. appears and baby. We call
the horse-keeper and tell him to "tie Mistress's saddle," and forthwith pony appears with a saddle that
looks on him like a howdah on an elephant. H.
mounts and is off for an hour's ride before the sun is
out brightly. The hen-house and dove-cote are opened,
the hundred white and speckled pigeons come fluttering along, the hens follow, and our three ducks solemnly quack their contented salaam.  The two gardeners, one of whom lives here in the servants' houses,
one in town, take their little short-handled hoes, their
solitary implement, and go to work in their lazy way,
or they draw water to water the parched ground, one
manl walking the long sweep, holding on by a tree
growing beside it, the other straddling the well and
pulling up the bucket and emptying, while the old
watchman, who has slept soundly all night, turns the
water by his hoe into one bed and shuts it out of another. Then our dapper-looking tailor comes from the
village and seats himself on his mat upon the back
veranda, and invites anybody to come and have a chat.
Add to these the cook and cook-boy whom we have
just added to our attendants, and you have our domestic establishment in extenso.
Until 7.30 all hands busy themselves, baby among
the rest. At that hour the big bell bangs, and summons us all to prayers. Then, beside the above, we
have the wives and children of catechist and servants,




336           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
forming quite a little congregation. We lead a chapter, and Manuel asks questions upon it. We sing a
Tamil hymn, during which time the gardener's daughter makes a fearful rumpus, and then close with prayer
from Manuel or myself. The whole exercise occupies
half an hour. We disperse. The ayah scampers to
get hot water for baby, whom mamma is probably trying to keep good-humored until bathing and eatingtime. Horse-keeper brings pony round and ties him
near my door, so that I may see him groomed and fed,
else he would not groom him and would himself eat the
food; and I take my Hebrew in Genesis or my Greek
in the " Life of Christ," and study half an hour, enjoying the task greatly. I have commenced the Bible and
also " Life of Christ," following Ellicott's plan.
At nine comes breakfast, when I begin to feel a little
cross; but chicken cutlet and fried plantains and waffles
give me better spirit. After breakfast come English
prayers, and then the day begins with a sweep from
ten to four. First I must perhaps give directions about
the carpenter's work, who is mending some churchwindows or what not, or I must nudge the gardeners.
For Tamil I read a Tamil story, then Henry Scudder's
tract, then a Psalm. In the mean while my muinshi
comes and sits by my side upon the floor, adjusts his
spectacles, fans himself with his handkerchief, and goes
to work at collecting synonyms or vulgarisms, which
latter it is well to know, if not to use. I read to him
what I have studied. Then I translate an English
tract into Tamil and English Bible into Tamil, with
the mufnshi and three separate versions, a first-rate exercise. To-morrow I shall study up a sermon on miracles, an introduction to a series that I propose preaching




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            337
upon Christ's miracles. H. sits in the next room, poring over her Tamil exercises until one o'clock, when
we have " tiffin," consisting of cold yesterday's pudding,
cake, plantains, custard-apples, or what not. Then H.
recites. At three o'clock, I throw aside my special
Tamil studies and take up some different task. Just
now I am studying "Renan on the Semitic Languages."
At four o'clock comes the ever-welcome dinner. I
must not forget to state though that little Miss Julia
makes herself a conspicuous actor in the forenoon scenes.
When awake she sits in her mother's room, talking
most assiduously over her simple toys, or visiting me
now and then and making fun with the muinshi. We
dine on chickens, on rice and curry, now and then on
mutton: to-day, note it, on partridges! After dinner
I go about generally, perhaps doing a little fixing-up,
usually overseeing the gardeners, to-day showing them
how to lay out the flower-garden. At half-past five
H., baby, and I are off in our nice little rockaway for
a drive. Baby talks half the way, then cries and goes
to sleep. We have various drives about, and always
come home refreshed by the cool breezes. Next comes
tea, right after tea prayers and a fuss with Julia, who
won't go to sleep, do what we will. And then, - the
inevitable letter-writing in my study, H. sitting oppo.
site to me. Thus we are now, various insects fluttering or crawling about or banging against the wall, bats
stealthily whisking back and forth through the rooms,
frogs croaking, crickets chirping, and a pleasant breeze
coming through the open Venetians.  Baby usually
gives us a tune or two in the evening, but has been
quite unmusical to-night.  "What time!" just now
says H. "Half-past nine."  "Oh, I must go right to
22




338           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
bed." And so we must, for ten o'clock is late sitting
up for us here. We seem to need more sleep.
So, my boy, I have given you a day, and very much
in this way does each one pass. Sunday varies by
necessity. We have two services here, and in the
afternoon I go to the town church. On Tuesday evening the weekly tapal from Madura comes in, putting
us in connection with the outward world. Monday
morning I have a meeting with helpers here, studying
Paul's Epistles with them. Once a month they all come
to be examined and to report. Every fourth week I
propose to tour.
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
ANDIPATTI, July 13.
It is Sunday, the day's work is done and, while
waiting for Kurubatham, the catechist, to come and
have a little prayer-meeting with me, I will commence
my journal, on themes as appropriate for Sunday as
any other day. Vetham the cook and my bandy-man
are sitting talking in rather loud tones upon subjects
somewhat abstruse for them. Bandy-man asked me
about our country and the ocean, and the few things I
told him have greatly excited him, so that he asks me
if white men can sail to the sun. This day has been a
most interesting one to me. I came here Friday night,
and yesterday morning early walked to Maniakarampatti, to examine the school. On my return I went on
top of a high hill, and had a good view of my field,
and laid out my work: you see I have come now for
a week's stay. After breakfasting at half-past nine, I
studied some, and at two o'clock examined two persons
who wished to join the church; they were man and




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            339
wife, the woman rather an intelligent person, but fond
of trifling, and I did not feel so confident as to her
piety. The man was less intelligent, but gave better
evidence of being a humble Christian. I was really
pleased with him. Immediately after dinner I went to
M. again, and held lecture preparatory to Communion,
talking about the persons who were refused admittance
to heaven, although familiar with the Lord. One often
questions whether the same end does not await many of
those who have nominally renounced heathenism. Coming back, I had the same talk here and went to bed.
To-day I woke with the feeling of a burden upon me,
from the recollection of what was before me. I was to
perform offices which were wholly new to me, - to receive persons for the Communion, to baptize old men
and children, and administer the Supper for the second
or third time. At ten o'clock another man came to be
examined. I had seen him when here last and knew
about him; he is of higher caste than our people generally, has long been familiar with this way in Mr. Herrick's field, and has for some time been desirous of
joining the church. He has an old mother already a
communicant, but not over-faithful to the spirit of her
persuasion; he has no wife, but three children. I had
quite a conversation with him.  He spoke well and
easily and familiarly on the topic in hand, and when
speaking of his duty as a church-member, took off a
silver ring and threw it down, as a signal, he said, of
having renounced earthly pomp. I did not feel wholly
satisfied with his spirit, but could not feel that I should
do right in refuising his request. He is punctilious in
religious duties, praying when he goes to his field to
work, and when he begins to draw water from the well,




340            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
etc., and has, according to the catechist's testimony,
been striving to overcome a somewhat hasty temper.
MONDAY MORNING.
At twelve yesterday the church-members from the
two villages assembled here for service. We decided
to alternate in holding the Communion, first in Andipatti, next in Maniakarampatti. I was sorry to notice
evidences of caste feeling. The mother of the man lastmentioned was at considerable pains to secure a seat
where she should not be polluted by the Pariahs in the
house. The M. people are all Pariahs, Andipatti people
are Shanars, a little higher, and the old woman higher
still. Last Communion season this woman refused to
be present, because it was held in M. church, and she
could not avoid contamination. Her son, I am glad to
say, is quite indifferent. We had quite a good congregation, and I talked about this feast which the Lord
had spread for us; after a short sermon I baptized the
two adults- men - and two children. The woman who
was to join the church had been baptized when a child.
I made the three candidates stand up, while I read to
them the Apostles' Creed, to which they assented, and
also a short promise which I had drawn out, to the intent that they were hereafter to renounce the devil and
his works, and all earthly aims, - to seek to build up
the church, and live according to the commandments
of God. It was as simple as I could make it, and I
think it was intelligible to the people.
But in spite of all my anxiety I enjoyed the service,
particularly the baptismal rite, and felt unusually the
solemnity of my office, which authorized me to pronounce over my fellow-man the name of Jehovah:




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            341
tllose who decline to administer the rite, shut themselves out from a peculiar blessing, I think. In the
afternoon we had another meeting of this congregation,
and examined all in New and in Old Testament history. You can have no conception of this "windy
season." It blows a perfect gale for two months from
the southwest, for the most part unremittingly, night
and day; it reminds me constantly of a gale at sea.  I
speak of it, because it confused me greatly yesterday.
It blows the dust furiously, too, so that you can keep
nothing clean, — books, plates, bed, person, are all
covered with it, and there is no keeping it off.
After meeting, yesterday evening, I went out for a
walk and a talk with Kurubatham, but was met at the
door by a party of Brahmans and others, who had come
to pay their respects to me. Intelligent men they were,
and one can't help longing for the day when such persons shall be numbered among our church-members.
I must say, however, that the day does seem nearer
than it did. One year ago, when this church was
built, these very men were mad against Mr. Noyes, and
cursed him bitterly, utterly refusing to have anything
to do either with him or with his books. Yesterdav
they were as civil and courteous as my best friends,
and received tracts and gospels gladly, and talked freely
about our religion, while the head man, a Brahman,
asked me to send him a New Testament, promising to
pay for it. The rest of yesterday's doings you know.
This morning I rose at five, and after a cup of tea
as usual, Kurubatham joined me, and we set out to visit
some neighboring villages. The first one we went to,
about a mile distant, was the "outside" of a larger
village,- the shoemakers' quarter, it being custom



342           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
ary for this lowest caste of all to live by themselves,
outside the village limits. There we talked, for about
three quarters of an hour, to a dozen men, beside
women, children, and dogs. I noticed on the wall of
the house where we stood a number of white dots,
and found they were put on when the house was first
built, " to keep the house from falling down." I said
only a few words, explaining to them why I had come
to the country, to tell them good news which I had
heard, and therefore wished to make others know.
yWe then went to the larger village, and had another
long and very interesting talk. There are always one
or two persons who take the lead in the conversation,
and the others listen. Kurubatham said to the crowd
that soon gathered, " I will read a proclamation, and
then the'gentleman' will talk;" so he read Mr Taylor's simple tract, " A Brief Statement of Bible Truth,
of Man's Fall and Recovery," and then I began by
saying pretty much what I had said before, how there
was a difference between them and my countrymen,
in color and dress and worship, but that formerly my
forefathers also worshipped idols, and that having heard
of the Christian way they had left off their old customs,
and worshipped the one true God; and that now I had
come to give them the same message we had heard,
that they too might believe. The chief speaker was a
very pleasant fellow, about my age, and spoke without any bitterness or ridicule, but apparently in sober
earnest. I cannot remember, nor did I fully understand enough, to give you the conversation as it occurred; it turned mostly upon an expression in Mr.
Taylor's tract, which I had repeated, that " the former
time was a time of darkness, but the light had at last




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            343
come."  The man asked what had become of all my
forefathers and all his forefathers; was their time, in
truth, only a time of darkness?  Others believe differently, saying there are many gods, etc., how can we
tell which is the truth? I told him that persons living
and working in mines might as well say, " There is no
sulch thing as one great light, the sun; all we know
about is the lamp or torches we carry." Kurubatham
explained how Jesus Christ was come as the true
Light, now for the first time shining. We talked a
long time on this, a large crowd listening attentively.
Of course, Kurubatham bore the brunt of the conversation, I putting in a word now and then, as I understood
an objection, and felt able to meet it, with my scant
stock of Tamil. Toward the end, the man said there
was a great deal of evil in the world, and that we
needed weapons to contend against it with.  "Yes,"
Kurubatham said, " and we have them in these verses
which we must place in our hearts where the enemy
is;" and I added that God, who had made our souls,
had promised to give His own power to any one who,
storing these verses within, should sincerely strive to
fight against sin. Then we left after distributing some
tracts. I do feel encouraged to labor here. People do
not oppose us with anything but argument, at least, not
with ridicule or abuse, and they are not indifferent, but
listen and talk, which is a step in advance of past days.
To-day is the Fair Day in Andipatti, when all the
villagers from towns about bring in their produce to
sell; it is now ten o'clock, and the crowd is gathering
fast. Hundreds come, and we shall have abundant opportunity to preach; so I stay in the village, and will
write as to our success.




344           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
EVENING.
Well, the day has passed, and it has been a day of
work, and the work has come nearer my ideas of missionary labor than any I have spent in India thus far.
I had a short nap, and read a little in Littell, after
breakfast, and at eleven went to see the fair. About
seven hundred people had come together, and were
squatted by their goods, in the middle of the open space
by the church, and through the bazaar street.  I
stopped at a trinket stall, and bought a wooden rattle
for baby, and several curiosities to send to you when
time offers. I then went back to the church, and leaving my purchases, went with Kurubatham to a temple
where the people were squatted about; we had been
there just before, and seen a cow-doctor extract a thorn
from each of the eyes of a poor cow, and then squirt
into them tobacco-juice; he appeared to suck the
thorns out, but I am not sure that the whole thing was
not a hoax.
I sat down on a round seat, and we chatted with a
very large crowd for nearly an hour. I talked considerably. Then a head man, or one of the chief men
of the villages here, came and asked us to see the school,
which was in the temple. We went into the inner
court, and sitting on the ground, just at the door of the
temple, my back very disrespectfully placed toward the
idol, I examined the boys in reading, etc.; but the man
was anxious to examine me, and he asked a number of
pertinent questions about my country, as to the weather,
the people; whether any black men were there; who
did the work for us; whether Government owned any
lands, and how they were taxed; and whether we had
a queen: all which I endeavored to answer, and




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           345
upon his finally passing a high eulogium upon our
country, found a fitting opportunity to explain to him
that it was nothing but Christianity that had made
England and America what they were. He was very
friendly, and I parted with him much pleased.
I have returned home from my tour [of a
week] having visited twenty -five villages; I must
have preached to twenty-five hundred people.
[TO HORACE E. SCUDDER.]
PERIAKULAM, July 23, 1862.
The last tour that I took has given me good
spirits. It is pleasant to be brought fairly face to face
with your work and not flinch. I was forced to talk
and did talk, and found to my delight that common
folk understood me well, and that I had the command
of a serviceable though limited vocabulary. I felt specially delighted because, from the nature of my field,
such must be my work. Some of the missionaries seldom visit a heathen village or address a purely heathen
crowd, their Christian congregations being so numerous as to demand all their time. My case is different.
Then you know the native reluctance to speak or talk
to strangers about religion that I have always felt; how
discouraging to me my Bible agency and my tract-distributing work were. In spite of all my fears, I have
succeeded, and take pleasure in what before was a cross.
I trust God will enable me to go on steadily in this
work. I foresee that it will inevitably conflict with
study and research, which I take pleasure in also. A
man in the field literally half the time is not the one
to push investigations very far, and I fear that I shall
not. However, I do not mean to let it trouble me;




346            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
my duty in the one case is plain; if I can find the way
to connect the two I shall try. I have been studying
Sanskrit grammar a little, and look wistfully at a class
of works hitherto untranslated and almost unknown.
I am feeling about here in hopes of getting some.
They are Sanskrit philosophical works, from  which
translations have been partially made, and serve as the
great authorities in Tamil. Mr. Hoisington translated
the books. If one could bring out the original Sanskrit
works, he would do a good service to literature. Dr.
Caldwell wrote a little while since, urging me to undertake it; but I must first get the books, to deliver which
to any uncaste man the Brahmans deem a mortal sin;
secondly I must master a language and an abstruse
terminology. I have little expectation of doing this.
In going among the villagers one may, I fancy, learn
not a little about popular notions and customs that may
throw light upon some questions of ethnology. The
popular religion is a very mixed-up affair, and I have
always had a passion for searching for the original fabric
of common faith upon which Brahmans have woven
their own belief. If one could put together common
superstitions into a system, he would contribute something towards settling a vexed question of races here.
But all these questions are subordinate in interest to
me just now to the purely missionary question, how
can we most economically evangelize these heathen
and best build up these churches?  My head is full of
projects.
I am going to set apart Saturdays as holidays, and I
have now by me the early volumes of the " Missionary
Herald," containing the origin of this mission, from
which I hope to extract material for a project of which




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            347
I must have spoken. I have also a large Tamil MS.
autobiography of a famous old catechist, and may
make something out of that. I try to keep the children in mind, and work for them.  It is splendid to
plan, is n't it? but one needs patience to bide his time
and not be in a hurry for fruits. I sometimes think I
see Christian congregations springing up all around,
but I fear that many years must pass away ere it be
anything more than picture, or prophecy at best.
[TO HIS MOTHER.]
PERIAKULAM, July 28, 1862.
Time flies faster than it ever did in Myrtle
Street, and I think more happily too. I have plenty of
work to do and it is growing fast upon me. My young
head is full of all sorts of projects for touring and
laboring here, some crude enough, and all tumbling
helter-skelter over each other in my brain..... The
care of all the churches weighs upon me. How can I
get more than fifty persons out of a church of one
hundred and fifty to come to meeting on Sunday?
How can I get the people to give contributions regularly? How can I induce one solitary girl to learn to
read? How can I get more than ten boys from this
church to attend school? How can I start an eveningschool?  How can I, with a force of four catechists,
preach the gospel effectually to a thousand villages?
Such questions and many more are in my mind the
whole time..... But in spite of all, or perhaps more
truly on account of all this, I am happy and becoming
more and more interested in the work.  If one only
goes to work the right way here, he will certainly see
the fruits soon.




348           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
AUG. 2.
Last week I was obliged to go to Madura.
We passed through Devadanapatti, half-way to Battalagundu, where Washburn met me as agreed. A great
bazaar was holding here..... After our lunch we
came out of the bandy and sat on a log, when I took a
tract called " The Bible Proclamation " and called out
that I had a proclamation to read. It was in the thick
of the bazaar, and two thousand people kept up a constant jabbering, so that I had to cry out the proclamation pretty loudly for the fifty or more crowding about
to hear. Then I expatiated a little on some points in
it, and in the midst of my speech was interrupted by a
Mohammedan, who asked about Jesus Christ.
" Who was he?"
"' The Son of God."
"Who was his mother?"
"Mary."
" Who was his father?"
" God."
"Take care," said Washburn at my side; "he'11
have you."
I knew of course what he was after, but did the best
I could in replying that God had made creatures who
had sinned against Him; that in spite of all He wished
to save them; that in order to save them He had sent
His Son to be born as a man and die for them, and it
was not for them to criticise his plan for their recovery.
I had never met a Mohammedan before. W. had, and
he said that he always represented that God himself
had come upon earth as man, not bringing prominently
forward the fact of the Sonship. The man evidently




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.          349
intended to puzzle us, and yet he was not obtrusive or
violent. We had a long talk, W. coming to my aid,
and gradually taking the talk from me, so I turned
about and soon had a separate audience.  One boy
seemed to get my meaning, and, as is very commonly
done, took up my words and explained them to the
crowd. One man apparently had not heard the gospel
before, - probably the majority had not, - and I was
pleased with the eagerness of his inquiries and the manner in which he received the news that it was no longer
necessary to go on pilgrimages or do penance to get
to heaven. Who knows but what this news comes as
good tidings now and then to some poor soul? The
people crowded about to get tracts, and telling them
that it would do a sick man no good to hold medicine
in his hand and not eat it, applying to them the moral,
we beat a retreat, having given away all our tracts,
and I so hoarse that I could hardly talk.
PERIAKULAM, Aug. 12.
Another batch of letters came to us on Saturday.
The special matter of interest was the news
that you were going to send us a magic lantern. It
will be invaluable for this people, to amuse and instruct.
It is hard to find anything that they can appreciate,this they will. To-day we had the monthly meeting
of school-children at the house, when I showed them
"Harper's Weekly" and the stereoscope, had them
sing, and wound up by playing blind-man's-buff, a
new game to them, which they enjoyed hugely.
I am studying up a talk for the heathen, to
be in readiness for my tour next week. I propose to
take different topics of importance and dwell separately




350            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
upon each, until I have a stock of themes well digested and in shape for delivery.  I begin with Sin,
and my method thus far developed is as follows:"Many of you do various acts of penance; (here I
enumerate, which always interests;) what is your
object? There must be a purpose to gain something
not before in your possession. A man does not go to
the jungle in search of a sheep in his pen. That
object, as you say, is to get merit, and to remove sin.
Therefore you admit that you are destitute of something, and that you are sinners. Yes, we are all sinners; but what is sin?  Can a tree sin? or does your
mouth or hand sinll? No, the spirit. (Then I enumerate sins that are especially common here, as perjury,
slander, theft.) To remove these sins you attempt a
great deal and your intention is good, but the way in
which you make the attempt is faulty. If you whitewash a black man, he does not become a white man.
If you visit the Ganges to bathe, your heart cannot be
cleansed. Sin is within, and your own poets say, —'Though you travel to Benares with aching feet, black
will not become white.'  I will show you a more excellent way," and so on to the gospel. By taking one
theme at a time, I think I can supply myself with apposite illustrations and learn proverbs, so as to have in
time a valuable stock at command. You see I have to
make the talks as plain as possible, and on sin even it is
necessary to be very explicit and circumstantial. The
people have very little consciousness of sin, their conscience is so seared and perverted; to neglect feeding
a Brahman is as heinous a crime as theft, and perhaps
more heinous.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             351
[TO REV. GEORGE F. HERRICK.]
PERIAKULAM, Sept. 3, 1862.
Since getting into my work I have found but
little leisure and I may add desire for other pursuits.
I have not lost my interest in topics that formerly
claimed a share of my attention, but a growing interest
in special duty as missionary has cast into the shade
desire after literary pursuits. I find that the only people we have to do with know precious little, as they
themselves often say to us, but how to plant and reap.
The higher classes are also ignorant enough. It is
almost exclusively in Upper India, I fancy, that philosophy is studied with any zest or success.  There is
however a wide field of investigation for one who likes
such work, in current and popular superstitions and worship. The mythology of the lower classes of India is
not known at all, and it is this that practically concerns
us much more than the Hindu Pantheon which we learn
in books.  I hope, after becoming familiar with the
dialect of the people, to be able to pick up some things
which may be valuable.  I have just now come across
a book of "Dialogues on Hindu Philosophy," by a
converted Brahman of Calcutta. It is the best contribution to our knowledge upon the subject that I know
of, outside of translations. It is a dialogue in which
the principal speaker is a Brahman who has been led
to adopt Christianity, after a full study of the several
systems, and is an admirable exposition of the characteristic traits of each. As an argument for Christianity, it is very fine. It has upset many theories that
I was led to adopt respecting the history of Hinduf
Philosophy, and certain criticisms on special systems.
All the better, as it certainly has made an advance in
the discussion of the subject.




352           LIFE AND LETTERS OF.... What sort of aliterature have your Christians in Turkey? the Armenians for instance. Have
they any native literature that you can avail yourself
of? any ancient religious works? The English have
done a good deal for Christianity here in this way, and
the Christian Vernacular Education Society are publishing many valuable works, so that we are gradually
getting up a literature, but must yet have many new
books. Books already published have not reached a
very wide circulation, chiefly because the people are so
extremely poor. I think of starting a sort of circulating-library here at my station centre, for the use of
the catechists. They are fond of reading and would
profit by it, I think.
[TO HENRY BUCK, WETHERSFIELD, CONN.]
PERIAKULAM, Oct. 25, 1862..... You are a farmer, and I suppose if you should
take a trip to India you would look upon all things
with a farmer's eye, and judge of the land from its
capacity to produce onions and corn, horses and cows,
barley and buckwheat. Now I feel quite happy in
having a farmer among my acquaintances, for I can
vary my tune and write upon fresh topics. I don't
know how many times I have said to my wife, " I wish
Henry Buck were here, he would enjoy this so much."
You would go home with ideas of the variety in modes
of agriculture that would astonish home folks. A missionary once introduced among his people some wheelbarrows. The custom is to carry everything under a
cart-load on the head, and you wonder that the necks
of the people don't snap under the extraordinary
bundles that they stagger with. The people thought




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            353
the wheelbarrow an excellent thing, but the missionary,
happening among them one day, found some men carrying bundles, barrow, and all on their heads. It is
a good illustration of the way that Hinduis do things.
You have your spades and shovels, common hoe and
potatoe-hoe, rake, sub-soil plough and side-hill plough,
harrow and cultivator, patent seed-planters, and what
not. All that the Hind6i has to do the work of these
is the plough, the hoe, and his toes and fingers. Such
a plough! it is of wood, two sticks, one the beam, and
the other the handle and share; there is a bit of iron
fastened to the end which is about two inches broad.
The bullocks draw this machine over the land, and it
makes a scratch of perhaps three inches deep at the
most.  They will have eight or ten yoke of oxen
ploughing together, a little to one side of each other,
and it was doubtless while ploughing in this style that
the prophet Elisha was called.  They plough twice a
year, in spring and in fall, just after enough rain has
fallen to soften the ground a little. If they have what
is called "wet cultivation" rice-fields, they plough
when the water is so deep as to hide the ground, and
they go plaslhing through, up to their knees in mud.
But the hoe is the most striking example of the civilization of the people. It is not such a hoe as you know.
It is called a dirt-digger, and the iron is more like a
spade in size. The handle again is not like that of a
hoe, except in the way it is inserted. It is about three
feet long, and I have seen them not over a foot in
length, and nearly parallel with the iron. You wonder
that the backbone does n't crack, they have to bend it
so. A  spade would not do for bare feet, and this
really seems to be an admirable instrument. The
23




354           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
people are quite handy in the use of it. It is used just
as much for digging the foundation of a house, or preparing the ground for planting, as it is for the cutting
of weeds or working after a plough. It goes much
deeper than a plough.
The cattle they have would hardly draw a little
horse-plough. They are quite small and very different
looking from home cattle. But the cows - they are the
breed to draw the prize for milkers. Some of the families here keep half a dozen, with as many calves, and
you would think at first sight that they were going
into the dairy business; but when I tell you that the
best milkers don't give over a quart and a half at a
milking, you will see that a family of babies will need
a family of cows. The cows here have a way, too, of
not giving milk unless they have their calves by them.
The people never kill a calf; it stays by its mother till
she dries up. Our cow's calf died, and the cow-man,
to insure the milk, skinned the calf and stuffed it.
This was presented to the cow at each mIilking, and
duly licked by the mother. When we went to the
Hills for our health, the cow was taken also, but the
man thought it hardly worth while to take the stuffing.
But he took the skin, and daily it had to be licked, or
the cow would not give down the milk. The people
here milk a cow on the left side.
The grains that are raised here are numerous enough,
but hardly one is known at home. Wheat of an inferior kind is raised upon the Hills, where it is cooler.
They raise a kind of maize, but it is poor. Some
vegetables have been imported and grow tolerably well.
We have tried gardening, and have new tomatoes,
cucumbers, squashes, and melons. Pease, beans, turnips,




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           355
cabbage, lettuce, celery, beets, have also been planted.
Some have come up, but whether they do well or not
remains to be seen. The chief difficulty is in getting
good seed..... Well, after going into agriculture, I have
space left to say " How do you do?" to one and all.... I need no fancy or stereoscopic view to tell me
how things look at Uncle W.'s. I can see the old
Maltese as she dives into that square hole in the back
porch. I can see the shiny, creamy pan of milk in that
pantry, and my! does n't it smell tip-top? I can see
the keys hanging on the nails in the kitchen, the
ostrich eggs, the supplement to the " Courant." I
can hear the chair crush up the wall,  -  pounding
the clothes as if bound to give them a good pinching
for getting dirty..... I might go on to specify the
several smells, good, bad, and indifferent, that even
now salute me, as memory runs over the days gone
by, spent in that blessed spot hard by the Folly. I
tell you, H., those were glorious days for me, and
there are none that I look back upon with such unmingled satisfaction.




856           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
CHAPTER XVI.
SEARCH AMONG CROMLECHS.
[1862.]
[WHILE on the Pulney Hills, David's interest was
excited by the report that there were in the neighborhood monumental remains, which might throw some
light upon the investigations which he had been making
concerning the earlier inhabitants of India. He made
an excursion to the place, and afterward, discovering
similar remains in the valley, he entered upon an
enthusiastic exploration which was promising valuable
results when it was brought to an end by his death.
I have collected into one narrative the accounts of the
various excursions which he made, the last occurring
but a few days before his death.]
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
PULNEY HILLS, May 22, 1862..... I had what might fairly be termed a tramp,
and with rather an unusual object in view. You know
I have always been interested in the antiquities of
India, and especially in matters pertaining to the hill
tribes. I had read often of the relics found on the
Nilagiris, but did not know until recently that similar
remains were to be found on these Pulney Hills. A few
weeks ago I heard from Mr. Taylor that such remains
were upon the hills and accessible, so I at once proposed an excursion in search. Yesterday we started




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            357
off, Mr. Taylor, Mr. Burnell, Mr. Hunt, and I.  A
Coolie went with us carrying provisions for the day, and
my gardener carried a crowbar and hoe. We had a
cup of tea early, and were off by half-past six. We
went down the mountain to the first landing-place on
the way to Periakulam. But then, instead of descending the mountain, we went up in another direction, by
a decidedly rough specimen of a path, often having to
dismount and pull our horses along. After a toilsome
ride we arrived, at half-past nine, at the ruins of an old
house, occupied by a former collector of this district.
It is called.Blackburn's bungalow.  Here we stopped,
opened our box and breakfasted. We were greatly
annoyed by flies, that reminded us of Livingstone's famous tsetze-fly, they tormented us and the horses so.
We left our horses here in charge of our Coolie, and
then set out for the supposed site of the cromlechs.
The foot-path was a most romantic one. It skirted the
side of a high mountain, looking down into a beautifully
wooded stream away below, from which we heard a
perfect orchestra of insects. It wound along, descending gradually until it brought us to a brook, a good
way down the hill. We left our coats by the side of
the path, for tramping was hard work, and the sun was
hot, even under umbrellas. Crossing the brook, we
scoured along by the side of another hill and down over
another brook. Here the recent footprints of elk were
clearly seen and the hollows where they wallow.
We had travelled so far, a little over an hour, when
Mr. Taylor, who always keeps his eyes open, shouted,
"There they are! Cromlechs! Hurrah!" and away
we rushed pell-mell at what he pointed out. Sure
enough, here was the veritable thing, not to be mis



358            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
taken a moment. It was upon the nose of a ridge,
running out from the mountain and overlooking a long
and beautiful valley below it, -a most picturesque
spot. The first that we came upon were placed within
a raised place twenty-four feet square, facing east and
west. In or on this platform were a dozen and more
of these structures. They were much broken up and
falling to decay. As originally built, they consisted of
slabs of unhewn stone, three placed on end, and another immense one laid across them, giving an opening
at one end, and making a nice " cubby-house," - one
large one measured eight feet in length and four in
breadth. We crawled under this, though the slab was
partly fallen down, and calling for the hoe, I scratched
away the soil that was below, in hopes of finding flooring. I think I was not mistaken, for I found a flat
stone wherever I dug, and it sounded hollow. I did
not scratch away all the mould, as it was not easy work,
and it was a sheer impossibility to attempt to move the
slab, in hope of finding anything beneath. There were
six of these cromlechs in a row, and we made out three
rows pretty clearly.
The platform itself was neatly walled up with square
unhewn stones, and raised about three feet above the
ground. A couple of rods down the hill were several
others of the same style, but not enclosed with any
wall, or, at least, with none well preserved. We pried
open one that seemed closed, but found only a heap of
cobble-stones. We needed a force of men to make
proper investigation, and had to leave such further and
more thorough search for another time. Leaving Mr.
Burnell here, Mr. Taylor and I walked on for about
half a mile, in hope of finding others on the side of a




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             359
knoll. But none were visible, and after a rest we returned.
PULNEY HILLS, May 31, 1862.
Yesterday I had a tramp indeed. A little after six
I was off on pony with the horse-keeper and a Coolie
who carried my lunch and a hoe. By nine o'clock I
reached a river not far from the first-seen cromlechs.
There, seated on a flat rock, the water foaming all
about me, I ate my cold eggs and biscuit, and then went
on to the old spot. I set the boy at work digging in
one to see if he could find a slab below, corresponding
to the slab above. He soon came to one, though it was
well covered with rocks and loam. At the end of this
cromlech was another apartment of about like size, full
of cobble-stones. To get at this end of the slab, I
must remove part of the pile. It was hard work in the
hot sun, but we finally succeeded in uncovering both
ends. The slab was very heavy, a foot thick, three
feet wide, and five feet long; it was impossible to lift
it. All I could do was to feel underneath. There
was clearly a hollow, but whether anything was in it I
could not tell, though I pulled out a handful of damp
leaves.  After digging awhile I pushed further on in
search of new cromlechs.  After riding two miles along
a mountain-slope I came to another spur of the mountain, jutting out into the valley.... Of a sudden,
looking about me I espied what I most wanted to see,
- cromlechs. They were on the brow of the hill, in
exactly similar position to that of the old ones. But
they were much finer, in a better state of preservation
and larger.  One slab was enormous.  It was full
eight feet high, six feet long, and a foot and a half
thick, standing perfectly perpendicular on edge.  This




360            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
had nothing to correspond with it, but abreast of it
and in perfect line were two well-shaped apartments
measuring each about six feet in length and three in
width, about four or five feet high, three-sided, with
no slab on top. Then, on what would answer as the
opposite side of the street, was another row, but in a
very tumbled-down condition, and at one end of the
street was another smaller one, facing in the opposite
direction. They all face either east or north.
It was very evident where the slabs came from, for
the brow of the hill was a bare, stratified gneiss rock,
easily peeling off into thick slabs, and the places from
which they were taken were plainly marked. Some of
these cromlechs also were wholly shut up, and I should
like to look beneath. I dug again here in search of a
lower slab, and after digging over a foot, came to one.
So all, thus far examined, have slabs below. Now the
question is, have these cromlechs relics of any kind beneath?  The slabs are so heavy that it would require a
strong force of natives to lift them, and I want to get up
an expedition that shall do up the thing thoroughly.
When vou remember that these have an antiquity probably equal to that of Celtic remains in Britain, that
the most primitive of the inhabitants here have not a
whisper of tradition about them, you will admit that
they possess an interest of no common kind. But they
are hard to get at in one day, and there is no village
handy. There are villages below you, and most lovely
spots are they in; I think I shall try to reach one and
stay there a day or two, making explorations.
Another trouble is the rain, as I can testify. I got
back for dinner at the brook by two o'clock, and at
three I was ready to start, but already the drops had




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            3G 1
begun to fall, and I was a hard five miles from home.
But I buttoned up my coat, spread my umbrella and
started on. First came an awful tug on foot up a high
hill for nearly a mile. The grass was so tall that you
could often find the path only by shuffling with your
feet.  Coming down the soft grass felt nicely, but now
it needed but a few wisps to put you into a pleasant
state of wetness. Pony and the men followed dolefully
on, and before we had reached the summit, we had it
in fuss and fury. Once a year we have such rains at
home, but not oftener. Here among the mountains
they are truly fearful. The little bridle-paths were
full of water rushing along, and as we turned one
corner of a hill and another, the rising wind came
swooping upon us from one quarter or another, till it
seemed as if old Boreas would split his cheeks. Finally
it came with such a burst, that I burst out laughing
and struck up Yankee Doodle and Star-Spangled
Banner.  It was a ride worth riding.  The road was
bad, and I had every now and then to get off and lead
pony, not risking my neck on him, and it was impossible to get out of a walk. So we had to grin and bear
it, plunging along through the swash for two hours and
a half, till within half a mile of home.
[A few days after this David was obliged to leave
the Hills, without an opportunity for further search;
but several weeks later lie made an excursion with Mr.
Washburn and Mr. Capron to Mana Madura, to examine some remains which had been discovered by
Mr. Capron while engaged in building a house at this
place.]




362            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
TIRUPUVANAM, Sept. 20, 1862.
We have come back from our tour of scientific research in the vicinity of Mana Madura.  We reached
the village near which the relics are at dusk, and passed
the night.... Before five in the morning we set
out for the remains, about half a mile off. All that is
seen above the surface is the rim of an earthen pot,
about a foot and a half or two feet in diameter. There
were some dozen or more to be seen.  So we set to
work to dig one up. It was about two feet deep, without a cover and filled tight with gravel. We dug out
the gravel and at the bottom found two little pots, of
such pottery as all vessels are made of in this country.
Their shape, however, differs from the one common
now, and inll one we found about half a skull, much
worn and its form preserved only by being imbedded
in earth.  Several teeth and remains of other bones
were also discovered.  We had two or three Coolies to
work for us, and opened four more. On the outside
of one we found a lot of vessels, broken and whole, of
various forms, one kind a very graceful cup, not unlike
a finger-bowl. In each jar we found several vessels,
and always remains of bones, though almost all were
undistinguishable for rottenness. The object of the jars
however was clear; the place was a burial-ground and
a very ancient one too. No one now can tell anything
of the origin of the jars. The people say that formerly
there was a caste that did not die, and that such people
were placed alive in these jars, with a little rice and
water in the cups. Thirty years ago there was a forest over this spot, of large trees.  Whose are these
remains? I suppose they are allied to old relics found




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            363
in various parts of the Peninsula, which are considered
to be Buddhistic remains. But that is all I can say.
The Buddhists were expelled from the country a thousand years ago or so.
[These explorations were continued in various quarters, and a general interest excited among the missionaries, when suddenly, to David's delight, a new field of
exploration came into knowledge in his own station.]
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
PERIAKULAM, Nov. 3, 1862.
I have been quite excited to-day and may be more so
to-morrow. You know that I have been a good deal
interested in old stones and mud, and have been making explorations in different quarters. Mr. Webb is to
excavate in Dindigal, and Washburn writes that old
cairns have turned up somewhere in his station. But
I have them nearer home, and shall not have to go
to Dindigal or Mana Madura to pursue antiquarian
researches. The other day I found an old mud fort,
and near it a lot of circles of rough stones corresponding precisely to those found in Dindigal. I inquired
about them, and found the people had all sorts of notions as to what they were. I inquired of Pastor Seymour, and he knew of others, and told me what the
people thought of them. We are eighty miles from
Mana Madura, yet the same stories are current here
that we heard there: that formerly the people lived to
a great age, and had to be buried alive in these big
pots. They were giants too. Well, I sent Seymour
to explore this morning in a place where there were
said to be some of these pots. He came back about




364            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
two o'clock, bringing me a piece of iron looking much
like a cleaver, only very much rust-eaten. He said he
had found pots as tall as' his head, and that one of our
church-members had ploughed up this year a piece of
iron like a sword, and had seen many of these big pots,
but thev were broken now. He said too that circles
of stones similar to those found near here were there;
that there were cromlechs like those on the hills; and
that in a small stone house the man had found a pottery horse of very neat pattern, much above the style
common now. The whole story has quite woke me
up; so to-morrow morning early I propose to go to the
spot, close to the foot of the hills, on the road to the
tope, and see for myself. They say that they find the
skull in a basin and the bones arranged around it. Is
it not singular that all throughout this district such
remains should be found, telling us of a race inhabiting
the country differing totally in their modes of sepulture
from any now existing? The iron instrument which
was brought me is the first thing of the kind found,
and I hope may add something to what we know of
such matters.
Nov. 7.
I have spent the day in a cromlech! So you must
have some account of it.  Some days ago I was attracted by the sight of some circles of stone along the
side of a road which we frequently travel upon. I suspected there was something within and had our gardener dig in the centre. He soon struck upon a slab.
I left it a day or two, but yesterday had him try it
again. We had other help, and soon found that it was
hollow below.  But we could only pry off a small
piece of a slab large enough to let me in. I got in




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             365
and found myself in a regular cromlech about six feet
long and three wide, but quite choked up with dirt.
We could not lift up the larger piece, and had to leave
and come again at night with two big levers and ropes.
This was last night while I had my catechists here, and
they helped me. We dug some and found in one corner a potter's vessel, and on the side four.  It was
almost dark, so we covered the vessel with dirt and
came home.  The meeting closed yesterday.  So today I set out with the determination of giving up one
day to antiquities.  I went out about six with a gardener and we went to work. The first thing we came
to of interest was a doorway in one end, that is a round
hole, with a stone set up against it outside. I hurrahed
internally, for this was a discovery.  It corresponds
precisely with cromlechs found upon the Nilagiris, and
which I have never seen here. It is supposed, and I
think with good reason, that these are tombs, and that
the hole was made for a person to enter and deposit the
bodies for sepulture.  In proof of this are the contents of the tomb.  One thing after another turned up,
but I will simply state what, not detailing the individual things.  We found a pot on four legs, a remarkable affair. The chief things were two big pots, such
as I described before as containing smaller vessels, lying on their sides facing the door.  In the rest of the
room were fiagments of pots and vessels of all sorts,
heaps upon heaps. We hardly found a whole one there.
We did however secure some, and of different patterns
from any I have seen before, and among other things
some covers to pots, - rare things. I found also several
iron instruments, but they were too far gone by rust to
make them out. Lastly some bones made their ap



366            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
pearance. I think there were bones all through the soil,
but crumbled so as to leave only a white powder. We
got out one of the big pots, and tying it to two beams,
the men, some half dozen, brought it home. I came
home late to breakfast, and returned immediately after,
having a shady place under ground.  I stayed until
four, eating lunch in the cromlech, and then went home
to dinner. I worked hard all day and am pretty decidedly tired to-night, so you will give me credit for
writing at once. I think the broken pots, etc., are
evidences that the place is a family tomb, or was, and
that pots were broken or disarranged by persons entering to make fresh deposits. But such enormous slabs
of stone! The room faces exactly east, and the slabs
are six feet thick by seven or eight high; the end ones
three feet wide by seven high. There is no place short
of a mile whence they could have been brought.




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             367
CHAPTER XVII.
LAST LABORS- DEATH AND BURIAL.
[OCTOBER-NOVEMBER, 1862.]
[TO HORACE E. SCUDDER.]
PERIAKULAM, Oct. 16, 1862..... I FIND that it won't do to be in too great a
hurry. As I was feverish with haste this morning,, I
took up a little pocket Proverbs and read, "Commit
thy works unto the Lord, and thy thoughts shall be
established." It was just the verse for me. I need
to cast my care upon Him and be quiet. But you
have no idea of the multifarious vexations in this life,
and the trouble is that the whole matter rests upon
you, - everybody looks to you for what they shall do,
and your spirit will almost necessarily infuse itself
throughout.  One requires a cheerful piety to work
steadily among this people, much patience to wait for
good, forbearance with individuals, and a general purpose to take things happily, no matter how perverse
they may appear.
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
PERIAKULAM, Oct. 14.
[Returning from a tour he passed the night at Andipatti.] I woke rather later than I meant to be, took
my tea and toast, and was off on Burnside for home
just as the sun rose.  Now you must know that the
rainy season has fairly set in and our rivers rise and




3G5            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
fall without warning. I left home Saturday afternoon;
in crossing the river by our house I got my feet wet,
the water being up to the horse's girths. Had I been
half an hour later I could not have gone. H. tells me
that the workmen, who were ploughing our ground,
could not cross to go to the village. But this river is
a small branch only of the Vaikai River, which has
its chief source way down in Kambam valley, and
passes between Andipatti and Periakulam. On Saturday I had sent the bandy ahead in the mornilg, with
orders to return and wait at the river to help me over.
I met it however only two miles from home, but was
reassured when the man told me that there was only a
little water. I found enough however to wet my feet
again.  The Vaikai River is three times as wide as
ours. This morning I felt a little misgiving as to how
I should find the river, but pushed ahead, telling the
bandy to come as soon as it could. Half a mile from
it, I met an old man, who did not comfort ihe any by
saying that there was a lot of water in the river. As
soon as I caught sight of it I saw it was true. The
water was red with mud and tore along at a furious
rate. Moreover there was a bandy with no bullocks by
the side, and it did not need the word of two or three
men sitting by it to assure me that it was " no go."
But I put on a bold face and drove Burnside in.
Down he went over my shoes at the first step.  That
would not do, so I backed out.
I called a council of war, — I was almost half-way
home; the sun was growing hot; I could not wait for
my bandy, and if I did it would not help me much.
If I waited two days, possibly the water would not fall;
so in less time than I have taken to say so, I decided




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            369
that there was only one thing to be done. I stripped,
and chirruping to Burnside, stepped in.  He did n't
want to go, but after drinking a little, seemed more
favorably disposed, and in we went. I never was in a
stronger current, and the water up to my chest. But
after a few rods the water was lower, and we stopped
to rest. The bottom was very soft, and I went floundering along, sticking my toes into the mud to keep a
footing. But I had n't gone far again before it grew
deeper, and almost before I knew it I was rushing
along down-stream at a jolly rate, old Burnside snorting, but sticking to me.  A  dozen or two of hard
strokes gave me a footing again, and after another
stretch of wading we reached the shore. I tied Burnside to a tree and went back for my clothes. I had to
make two bundles of them, to tie on to my head, and
so had to cross twice to get them. The last time I
crossed for them, I was pretty thoroughly used up and
excited the sympathy of the natives, several of whom
had collected to see the performance. I should have
been pushed to have gone over again. The current
was very strong indeed, but had I not been in India a
twelvemonth it would not have been a tough thing at
all. Here, however, we have no extra strength of
muscle for extraordinary occasions. I did not succeed
in keeping my clothes wholly dry, though the men tied
my bundle on my head quite artistically, but a little
water was no harm on a hot morning. Mounting, I
urged Burnside on as rapidly as possible, as the sun
was becoming decidedly uncomfortable, and I had seven
more miles to go.  I had a pleasant ride until within
half a mile of home, when the roar of a tank-dam, or
rather the waterfall, told me that I might have trouble
24




370            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
in getting over our river. Sure enough, it was as high
as it well could be. I called to the horse-keeper and
the servants, and then Mr. Noyes and H. came down,
but they could not help me a bit; so not caring, as I
was at home, about apparel, I let Burnside graze and
jumped in as I was, much to the concern of our worthy
gardener. The river, though narrower, proved to be
deeper than the other, and I had to swim fully as much.
Mr. Noyes's horse-keeper could swim, the only one on
the ground, and he took a rope and made out to get
Burnside over. So we have had a bit of excitement
without any harm to anybody. H. says the storm here
last night exceeded in severity any that we have had
before.  One consequence is that a big tank above
broke loose, and it is this that has forced the river so
full. Communication with the hills is broken off, and
the road is flooded.
[Some idea of the suddenness and violence of this
rise in the river may be formed from the fact that
frequently of two bandies attempting to cross, one
would get safely across and the other have to wait,
and that cattle, and often people are swept away by the
violence of the flood. What was before but the bed
of a stream with a narrow, sluggish current, becomes
in a few hours a wild, roaring river, impassable except
for the most venturesome. So sudden is the descent
of an increased volume of water that it can be likened
to nothing but another river precipitated over the previous stream.- To resume the journal.]
OCT. 17.
The river is down again. It has been raining on




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           371
the mountains west of us all day, and their summits
have been as dark as night. About dinner-time the
flood came. I ran out to see it, and H., baby, and I
had a nice time walking along the bank, seeing the
water rush by, and watching the servants catch the
wood that floated down. They picked up enough firewood to last a couple of months. It is astonishing how
quickly the torrent comes, we are so close to the mountains. The flood has broughlt something else than timber to us. While I write, Manuel the catechist is on
the veranda preaching to one hundred people, sitting
on it, who have been caught by the river and forced to
spend the night here. They belong two miles away,
and came this morning to their work at the base of the
mountains.  Quite an unexpected audience for us.
You can judge of the capacity of our veranda, when
I tell you that it is not a quarter full.
OCT. 22.
I camne home last night from a visit to Dindigal,
where I assisted at the dedication of Mr. Webb's new
church.... When I came to the river, there was a
scene: one bandy was capsized in the middle of the
rushing stream, and the men were tugging away to get
it out. The swimmers were reaping a harvest by taking over bundles, and persons too, for a cent apiece.
On the opposite bank was Mr. White's empty bandy
coming from our house to Pulney, and I watched to
see how it would come over. They took out the bullocks and then pushed the bandy over. It came out
full of water and I began to make up my mind for a
ducking and possible upset.  So I took out the mattress and valise and stuck my shoes out of water's




372           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
reach. Then straddling, standing upright, I gave the
word and in we went, a dozen men hauling and shoving, calling on their gods and laboring as if it were a
case of life and death.  Half the number would have
done as well. The water came high enough to wet my
feet and lift up the straw; but beyond that no harm
was done, and after giving the men a cent apiece we
drove on..... On the way home I saw a temple on the
road-side, and opposite it a stone. A man said that long
ago for some reason a man and his wife died together.
Now the people worship them; the stone was the man,
the image in the temple the woman. This custom is
confined to one caste.
[TO CHARLES W. SCUDDER.]
PERIAKULAM, Oct. 29, 1862.
Within these few days I have been very much
depressed about this people. Oh, my dear brother, if
you could come here and see one woman, - any one,
and see in her the picture of the condition of this people! It is awful, awful. The mass of the people live
and die like swine, and the higher classes are utterly sealed against. the truth. What power can break
through? As soon as the rains are over I hope to
organize a system of preaching, but oh for piety! love
to Jesus! the only thing that can give me courage to
face a sneering crowd, a callous crowd. Pray much
for me.
[JOURNAL LETTER.]
Nov. 3.
Our days pass very uniformly now. We are
in the rainy season, and consequently somewhat con



DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            373
fined. I cannot easily tour, and even going to the
town is a matter of no little trouble, as I have two
streams to cross, each of which is up to the saddlegirths. I have not really preached but once or twice
in the town since I have lived here. I am to blame.
A feeling of dread has prevented me, knowing that the
people are less ignorant, and consequently more rude,
than in the villages. Most of my preaching here has
been in the various hamlets about. But I hope by
God's grace to do differently, and, as soon as the
weather moderates, to set going a systematic mode of
operation, by which the town and neighboring villages
shall be effectually reached. I am quite busy now over
an enlargement of the government map that used to
hang in my room at home. How I should have studied my field then, could I have foreseen what it was to
be. I am enlarging it fourfold, making it on the scale
of a mile to an inch, so that every little village can be
down and named. It will be a capital thing for me,
and for any who may come after me. Oh, for help to
be faithful the little while that I shall be here. I was
thinking yesterday evening, while walking on top of
the house, of the kind of preaching that was required
here, and it occurred to me that I had not given God's
truth the credit of being mighty enough to pull down
these strongholds.  I have thought of the doctrine of
the cross as foolishness to this proud people, and have
perhaps unconsciously wished to gloss it over with soft
words that it might not offend. But I begin to see that
I ought to be willing to trust the bare, strong truth to
make its own way, — the naked truth that all have
sinned and come short of the glory of God, and that
there is salvation in none other than Christ Jesus: this




374            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
it is which is mighty through God. I think I see now
that my duty is to preach the doctrine boldly to all,
and leave it to work its own fruit through the Spirit
of God. A missionary, if he believes, will feel himself
on a platform so infinitely above all cavilling that the
reproach or ridicule or indifference of men to whom
he proclaims his message will excite only compassion,
never shame. Yes, we need to believe more in the
power of the gospel.
PERIAKULAM, Nov. 11.
You will want to know the dark as well as the bright
sides of my life, that you may sympathize with me in
all things. I have been feeling very sadly for a few
days past about my congregation, and I must tell you
why. Last Sunday we had communion in the village
church.  The river had been down in the night, but
there was not too much water to prevent my riding
through. I went down with a heavy heart, for it had
been decided that one of the deacons should be suspended if he would not acknowledge his fault. He was
not at church.  Only a few persons were there when I
reached the church, and I sat down waiting for them
to come. One man came to the door, and then stopped
and turned round to talk very loudly with some
heathen outside.  He was with difficulty induced to
be quiet, but came in, sat down, prayed as usual, and
afterward received the Sacrament. While waitilng, nmy
mfnshi came up to me, and said that there had been a
fearful quarrel there the night before, on account of
which many had gone to court.
My heart sank within me, and as I looked around
upon the little congregation and felt how very, very




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           375
low the people were, I wondered when their day of
regeneration would come. But even then the thought
came into my mind that Christ had some souls there
true to Him, and that He had undoubtedly had to bear
with me oil account of failings of far greater moment
than those that caused me anxiety here. But the people had mostly come, and after opening the service,
the pastor briefly stated the case of the deacon as known
to them, and said that it seemed necessary to suspend
him, asking what they had to say.. One man only
spoke, saying simply that they must do as I said, but I
believe he did not speak complainingly. I then read a
part of the first two chapters of First Peter, and showed
what the people of God should be, holy; but that we
must not judge that he who was to be suspended was
the greatest sinner amongst us. You know that the
old feud was between the two deacons...... I have
no doubt that the remaining deacon ought to be suspended also, and I fear excommunicated, but there is
nothing upon which I can lay my hand as punishable.
But what a state of things! The quarrel that I referred to was between a member of the congregation
and his wife. He dragged her about by her hair and
beat her. Her father took her part, a crowd gathered
and an officer was called. I believe he will be fined
by the church.... The affair has been settled, and
to-day his wife has returned to his house, having been
absent nearly a month from his ill-usage of her. Her
father is a church-member and the head man of the
church, and Sunday he would not come to communion
because he said he was angry. My poor people! I
would do anything for them, but oh, what can I do?
I was going to Andipatti to-morrow, but I learn




376            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
that the river is down, and I don't want to have another swim just now.
With these words his journal ends. The narrative
of my brother's life, which I have gladly given through
his own words since his arrival in India, returns to me;
a few pages only remain, and the reader will pardon
me if I assume in one who has read thus far an interest which will linger over the last days of one of the
noblest of men, the best of brothers. For what follows
I am chiefly indebted to Mr. Washburn, who collected
the facts with care; other letters also and the simple
words of David's native helpers serve to complete the
account.
On Sunday the 16th of November he preached in
the village church, and after service began to visit all
the Christian families, in accordance with a plan previously proposed, calling at four houses and praying
with the inmates; in the afternoon he visited also the
Sunday-school in the mission compound. He had been
intending the previous week to visit Andipatti, but the
swollen rivers had decided him to postpone the tour.
It was now, however, quite imperative that he should
not longer defer it. He was about preparing his annual report of the station, and wished to secure further
details respecting the state of schools and congregations; moreover the wife of one of his catechists was
dangerously ill, and he wished to see her. So, though
reluctant to go, he decided it to be his duty, and prepared to leave on Monday, expecting to return on
Wednesday. He rode early in the morning to the village to do what he could in settling the quarrel which




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           377
has been mentioned in his journal. He was occupied
a long time, and came home not far from ten o'clock to
breakfast.  He was busy packing for the journey,
expecting to leave by two o'clock in the afternoon; but
the bullocks did not come until four o'clock, when he
set out. It will be remembered that a little stream
runs back of the house; the bandy in which he was to
travel could not cross here owing to the steepness of
the opposite bank; it was sent round by another way,
and David was carried across the stream by the two
gardeners. His wife, bearing the little child in her
arms, came to the bank and waited for ten minutes
until the bandy should arrive, when both bade him
good-bye, watched the bandy till it was out of sight,
and returned to the house.
David proceeded to Andipatti, ten miles distant,
crossing the intervening Vaikai River, and reaching the
town at nine o'clock in the evening; after tea and
prayer with the catechist he went to sleep. Early on
Tuesday morning he went out to a village with the
catechist to preach, and after breakfast examined the
school, when he made the children, who met him with
great affection, run round him in a circle for a frolic,
giving plantains to those who did it well. He held no
other meetings during the day, and his attention was
given to his cook-boy, who had been taken ill. As
evening came on two or three catechists and teachers
came into the church where he was staying, and he
spent the time in conversation with them. He had
been visiting and conversing during the day with the
catechist's wife who was very sick, and the conversation
naturally turned upon death, and he asked the catechist what were his feelings, now that he was brought




e,~.         LIFE AND LETTERS OF
face to face with death and compelled to contemplate
it every day. From this their talk turned upon the
resurrection and immortality, as set forth in the first
epistles to the Corinthians and to the Thessalonians.
The catechist, in his narration of these scenes afterward, dwelt with a fond interest upon each little point.
He told how, in attempting to flatten a large Scripture
placard, David laid it down and put his foot on it,
when the scrupulous teacher reproved him with the
question, " Sir, may one put his foot upon the word of
God?" and "then," said the catechist, "we talked
much, and he thought much within himself, for past
one o'clock he called out to the teacher sleeping near,'You say it is not right to put your foot on that placard, but you have got the Bible there for your pillow,'
showing that he had been thinking much about what
we had been talking of."
He rose early on Wednesday morning and proceeded
to Maniakarampatti, a village a mile and a half distant,
where was a congregation.  Here he preached upon
the healing of the nobleman's son, the same sermon
which he had preached the Sabbath before in the village church.  He breakfasted, collected the statistics
for which he had visited the place, and then hurried his
thiings into the bandy, wishing to cross the river and
return to Periakulam without further delay; no doubt
he had some anxiety about the river, as the weather
during his absence had been of the most comfortless
sort; rain had fallen on the hills, and Tuesday night
it had rained uninterruptedly.  No wonder he made
haste, since the delay of an hour or two might prevent
him from crossing the river, and keep him in restless
inactivity at AuRdipatti. The catechists endeavored to




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            379
dissuade him from  setting out, telling him that they
had heard from  many persons that there was much
water in the river, but David knew that the difficulty
of the passage would seem more formidable to the
natives than to him; he finally said, " If there really is
a heavy flood, as you say, I will return to Andipatti."
Leaving the bandy to follow, lie set out on foot; one
of the catechists and a church-member accompanied
him, and they reached the river about one o'clock.
His plan was to do as he had several times lately done,
to swim the river, trusting to meet his horse on the
other side, which indeed was sent, as it proved, and at
any rate to be able to reach Periakulam, only five or
six miles distant, long before his bandy, which would
have to wait. He rested until the bandy came up, and
lunched, for he had a somewhat arduous walk before
him. The river was risincg, and indeed was higher than
he had known it. The catechist begged him not to go,
but he remembered that he had often crossed when it
was called impassable, and had not long before made
three transits, when he led his horse and carried his
clothes.  Time was precious to him, and if he waited
at all it would likely enough be for two or three days,
making him miss the mail and deranging his plans
greatly. He felt no misgivings, saying to the catechist,
"I have swum two miles in the ocean and I will try."
But he must have his clothes and his papers, as he
would have to walk home, or till he met his horse, and
the bandy might not reach him for several days. So
he removed and adjusted his clothes, untying and tying
them again until he had arranged them so as least to
impede the movement of his arms.  He placed the
papers in his hat and secured it to his head.




380            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
He went a little above the regular ford, to a place
where a brook makes into the river, in order to take
advantage of the current, waded out some distance
into the stream, and struck out boldly. The river is
about a hundred yards wide at this place, and he had
swum easily about half the distance, when suddenly
the bystanders on the bank saw, as it were, a new
river upon the top of this swift current come down like
a wall, overwhelming him; a tank above had given
way, and the volume of water to the depth of several
feet had rushed vehemently down the stream, carrying
everything with it. No strength of man could withstand the force, and the swimmer was carried under.
He rose again, freed from encumbrance, but there was
no exertion. He floated swiftly down the stream, his
upturned face alone visible; soon nothing was to be
seen but the turbid water.
The catechist, servant, and other bystanders stood
for the first moment terrified on the shore, then rushed
along the bank beyond where anything was visible, yet
hoping that the flood would throw him on shore at a
bend in the river, thirty or forty rods below. They
were suddenly arrested by one of the hill torrents created by the sudden rains. They had already passed
through a village in their pursuit, and were joined by
the villagers, who were aroused by the tidings that a
white man had gone down the stream. The Christians turned back with heavy hearts; they could not
cross to carry tidings to Periakulam and they went
back to Andipatti, to resume the search immediately,
following the river down for thirty miles.
It was on the day following only that word could be
got to Periakulam. Mrs. Scudder had twice sent the




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            381
horse-keeper with the horse in expectation of her husband's return, and had waited breakfast. About one
o'clock there was a hurried passing to and fro among
the servants. She went to the veranda and saw by
their faces that something was wrong. She asked the
matter, and, dumb at first, one at last said, "Master
has gone down the river," and that a note was waiting
for her at the police station. She said aloud that it
could not be, and sent the servants away, one for the
note, another for the Madura collector who was in
town, with the word that "Master must be brought
back if he could not come." Two hours of suspense
and the note came, a Tamil one, which the muinshi with
great difficulty read aloud into English. All doubt was
gone; it must be so. She despatched notes to Mr.
Noyes, who was on the Hills, to come to her, to Mr.
Wasllburn, at Battalagundu, and to Mr. Rendall, at
Madura, to do what was possible.
Thursday night passed, and on the afternoon following Mr. Noyes reached Periakularn, and was followed
by Mr. and Mrs. Washburn a few hours later. The
collector had given orders that a watch should be kept,
and a search made for forty miles down the river. The
members of the church with their pastor also volunteered to go, and the catechists and Christians upon
the other bank were equally zealous. The news passed
through the district very rapidly, reaching at once the
various mission stations. Yet all this was with little
hope of recovering the remains. The flood that overwhelmed him had brought down vast quantities of
sand, and given reason to believe that even in the moment of his death God had buried him.
The days wore away. On the Sabbath the mission



382           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
aries and the native Christians assembled in the compound church and listened to words of comfort and
exhortation, comfort to all, though spoken in a language
unknown to the chief mourner.  On Monday before
light came Mrs. Webb from Dindigal, having set out
on receiving the news. The morning passed; at one
o'clock came a note from the Battalagundu catechist,
saying " Mr. Scudder's body just now came from Solavanthan. I hired two bullocks and sent it this morning, at nine o'clock. I think they will make some
delay on the road. It is better, I think, if you please,
to send two pairs of bullocks from Periakulam.  The
head-constable of Solavanthan and a catechist came
along with the bandy." There could be no doubt about
this, though many false reports had repeatedly come.
Solavanthan was forty miles from Periakulam, and the
turbulent river had carried the body there, where it
was discovered on Sunday morning, floating in the
stream, and taken in charge by the police stationed at
the spot, who took measures to bring it ashore and convey it to his home.
At five o'clock the bandy drove into the gate, but
though the form could be distinguished beneath the
white cloth, there could be no sight of the face.
Preparations were concluded for burial, and on Tuesday morning early, the company gathered upon the
veranda, the burial-service was read, and the Divine
assistance was invoked upon the burial, which was to
be upon the summit of the Pulneys. " The sun was
just rising," writes Mr. Washburn, "when we mounted
our horses and started forth. I need not linger by the
way. Yet I seemed, as I rode up that zigzag path, to
hear the voice that shouted welcome to me when I




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.             oe-.3
last ascended, but now it came not from Pilliyar Suttuf,
but from heights which foot of flesh and blood had never
trod, and the voice was not now one of welcome, but
those apostolic words, -' Seeing therefore we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside
every weight and the sin that doth so easily beset us,
and let us run with patience the race that is set before
uS.
11 We reached Kodci KWanal at two o'clock; we were
our own heralds, but our coming at once announced
our errand.'We rode by the east house, past Nebo,
past Rock Cottage of pleasant memories, and down the
woody pathway to the church, and across the clhurchyard to its western side.' There, within the churlchyard, just behind the church, is a warm living hill-side
of yellow mould; a pleasant path bordered by a hedge
of roses separates the church-yard from the overhanging woods.   A beautiful rhododendron  stands there,
leaning to the east, and beneath its shade was without doubtl the place for the grave of our most precious
one,   far enoughl from the main path to the church
to be beyond  intrusion  or common gaze, yet near
enough  for those who wish to frequent it, to be
reminded of him  and to blend his memory with the
worship of the place.
"; It was nearly five o'clock in the afternoon be-fore
thle bearers were announced as up the Hill.  As I
again returned  friom  the east house, I stopped  and
looked down upon the plain below.  The rain had
passed, the sun was shining mellow  and invitingly
upon the bungalow and all that region.  It was all
beautiful beyond description.  It seemed to me a token
that comfort, not to say joy, bad again visited those




3S4!          LIFE AND LETTERS OF
stricken ones.  I had not been long in the churclly)ard, whither I had gone to attend to the last details,
when sounds announced the approach of the Coolies,
but they were not the chant of the bearers.  It was
the sound of continued music, as tile people came down
the hill-side, through the grove, over the knoll, - now
swelling out, now  dying away, and again breaking
forth into the words of Christian song as they approacheld.  A  bend in the path discovered the catechist, servants, and Christians in decent procession
before the bearers, singing.
" It was a spontaneous outflowing of all that was
Christian in them, the song of victory whllich Christianity alone can inspire.  Such a triumphal procession
through the long ages those hills had never witnessed.
Alas! India raises only wails and clamor alike around
the funeral pile of the twice-born and the grave of the
Pariah.
"M' r. White, who had just arrived on the Hills in
anticipation of our coming, Mr. Noyes and his son,
two English gentlemen residing there, myself, and a
large company of natives gathered around the sacred
spot and under the sound of the church-bell; with the
decencies of burial in our own native land, and with
the words with which millions have been laid to sleep,
we consigned dust to dust and ashes to ashes, in sure
hope of the resurrection to eternal life thlrough Jesus
Christ our Lord. And so our precious, cherished work
was done.
"The next morning very early I returned to take
another look at that spot and to gather a few flowers
as mementos for those who were not there. The old
rhododendron-tree seemed to me to have accepted the




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            385
guardianship of the spot, and had already begun to
shed its wreath of gorgeous flaming flowers around and
upon the grave. I gathered a few flowers and came
away, not to leave it alone, but in charge of Him
who shall change our vile bodies that they may be fashioned like unto His glorious body."
Over that quiet grave stands now a memorial stone,
bearing upon its face this inscription, -
DAVID COIT SCUDDER.
" HE LEADETH ME BESIDE THE STILL WATERS."
and on the reverse, his office, the dates of his birth,
landing at Madras, and death.
25




386            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
CHAPTER  XVIII.
CONCLUSION.
As soon as the necessary arrangements could be
made, Mrs. Scudder and her child left Periakulam for
Madras, on their way to America, taking ship to England and reaching Boston in Mllay. It need not be
told with what affectionate care they were sent on their
way and accompanied by the various members of the
Madura Mission.  That little community, separated
from other society, was united by the closest ties, and
when one member suffered, all the members suffered.
It was with sad hearts that they returned to their
appointed work, leaving one whom they had so lately
and with such fond expectation welcomed to their
number in his grave on the Pulneys, and bidding
farewell to another, more closely joined to them  now
by this recent sorrow.  It may be judged how these
missionaries, with their strong desire for the salvation
of India, would mourn the loss of one possessed of
such ability, and giving promise of so great usefulness.
From every one came the sorrowful word -  why was
it he?   One after another bore testimony spontaneously to his worth and attainments.  One, out of the
mission, who is recognized as the leading scholar of
Southern India, wrote to a friend: " I met him twice
in the beginning of the year, and corresponded with
him a little, and it was my impression that he was the
best prepared and most learned young missionary that




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           387
had ever come out to Southern India; but it is delightful to perceive, from the manner in which his missionary colleagues write of him, that those who knew him
best entertained as high an opinion of his Christian
simplicity and missionary zeal as I, who had but slight
acquaintance with him, entertained of his scholarship."
And another, also out of the Madura circle, who occupies perhaps the foremost place among American missionaries in India, by his learning, his eloquence, and
his missionary ardor, wrote, on hearing of the death,
" Kneeling down I have prayed that his mantle may
fall upon me."
David loved the native Christians; he took a very
favorable view of Hindu character, and declared that
he enjoyed Christian intercourse with his catechists as
much as he had with friends at home. His ardent and
affectionate concern for those about him could not fail
to impress them, and children especially reciprocated
his affection. He lived long enough with a few Hinduis
to become intimately acquainted with them and to
leave a strong impression of his own character upon
them. The pastor of the church at Periakulam, the
catechists of the villages in his district, and his mufnshi,
all bore testimony in their simple manner to his worth.
The last-named wrote as follows to David's father not
long after the death of his pupil. I make no apology
for inserting the letter without any alteration of the
phraseology.
[TO CHARLES SCUDDER, ESQ.]
MOST VENERABLE SIR, - With due submission and
unutterable grief, I beg to bring to your notice the
very painful news concerning my valuable and most




388            LIFE AND LETTERS OF
beloved master, the Rev. D. C. Scudder, your affectionate son, whom we all expected to be the firstrate literary spiritual guide in our country. No sooner
he arrived at Madura, I had the privilege of being
taken by him as his Tamil muinshi and mission helper.
Indeed I was very glad to place myself under the care
of a worthy, good master and mistress. While in Madura he not only devoted his time to his Tamil studies,
but also was very particular in examining the histories
of the former Tamil kings and taking a clear view of
the celebrated Meenachee's temple of Madura, and
began at once in his daily ridings to converse with the
Brahmans and visit the Tamil heathen schools, while
he was yet unable to speak Tamil well. The Brahmans were quite astonished at his deep knowledge in
their shastras, while most of them were ignorant of
their own. He expected to study Sanskrit next year.
Last February he removed with his family to his
new field, which lies close to the mountains and rivers,
where he at once adopted suitable plans to accomplish
the great object for which he came, and at the same
time paid especial attention to his Tarnil studies, in
which he made wonderful progress. He commenced
to translate English and Tamil into one another, and
recently preached two Tamil sermons on the first two
miracles of Christ. He was much beloved by the people for his good disposition and fluent talk of the Tamil
language. He and his admirable lady were very kind
to their servants as well as to others. His brain was
full of thoughts, that he was ever industrious. Since
September last his mind was turned to discover some
ancient curiosities, which he was told to be deposited
into the ground. Accordingly he set out to work, dug




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            389
out several places on the ground, and found out some
mud vessels, &c., that the people, to whom it was very
curious, created a false name everywhere that a white
man had dug out sufficient wealth from the ground,
through the means of an enchanting glass, - referring
to his telescope.
My master has begun everything that should be
done in future, and it is a sad thing that he disappeared before his works were manifested, both among
his countrymen and Hinduis. We were glad that a
new star appeared in a region of shadow of death, but
to our loss and misfortune it disappeared so soon and
so unexpectedly.  No doubt, sir, if our master had
lived, you will be glad to hear that great and remarkable things were done by him. It is no small thing
to lose such a beautiful, young, scientific, bold, and
good-natured gentleman for us all, especially for his
dear consort and child, whom he loved most tenderly.
We all, the native Christians as well as the American gentlemen and ladies, feel very sorry indeed for the
loss of our able minister. I pray that Lord of Mercy
to give consolation to the discomforted hearts of my
master's parents and friends, especially my kind mistress, who is left to lament after her dear husband.
With my humble salaams to you all,
I remain, most venerable sir,
Your very obedient and humble servant,
J. H. BRECKENRIDGE.
Our father had already of his own accord written
the following affectionate letter to the mxnnshi, which I
did not discover until it was too late to insert it in its
order: -




390           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
[TO J. H. BRECKENRIDGE.]
I notice that in very many of the letters which my
beloved son sends to me from India, informing me of
what he is endeavoring to do to benefit the people, he
often mentions you as one of his best helpers in his
work, and as I read these words respecting you, my
heart is drawn out toward you in Christian love, and I
feel very much like writing you a short letter.
My son left a pleasant home, loving parents, brothers
and sister, and everything to make life desirable and
happy, that he might go to India and tell the people
there of the preciousness of Christ and his salvation.
He had for many years thought a great deal about
India, and I believe was moved by the Holy Spirit to
devote his life to laboring among your people for their
good, expecting no reward but to win the approbation
of his Saviour and yours, in that great day when we
shall all render up our account to the judge of the
quick and the dead.
We, his parents, freely let him go, for we also have
strong desires that the people of India may hear the
message of Christ's love, and were willing that our
son should obey the command of our Saviour to go
"into all the world and preach the gospel to every
creature."  And now he is in his chosen field of labor,
having spent years in qualifying himself for the work,
and you are with him and know him, and already I do
not doubt love him as a brother; and he is worthy of
your love, for you will ever find him a fast friend, as
will every soul that shall listen to the message he
brings, and shall come to Christ with all'their heart.
It rejoices me much to know that he has so kind a
friend and helper as he has in you, and I pray you to




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.            391
confide in him in all things, for he will never disappoint you; and with your aid and sympathy and God's
blessing, I have strong hopes that he will persuade
many to renounce all superstition and idolatry, and to
receive the Lord Jesus Christ as their only Saviour.
My dear Mr. Breckenridge, I am an old man, past
threescore years and ten, and never expect to see
again my son in the flesh, or to behold your countenance in this world. But if we bear the image of
Christ on earth, we may with confidence look forward
to the time when we shall bear his heavenly image in
that better world to which we go. There I shall know
you and you will know me, and we will sing together
the song of redeeming love.
I am your brother in Christ,
CHARLES SCUDDER.
David's catechists each wrote to Mr. Capron, giving
some particulars of his life and death, the most noticeable of which have already been used in these pages.
Their letters are couched in the flowing terms of an
Oriental speech, but display the simplicity of their
feelings and sincerity of their grief.  "As I think
about his death and his life," writes one, "it is a great
sadness to me. If he were living I should have many
blessings." Next to his mfinshi, probably Pastor Seymour, of the town church at Periakulam, had the closest
intercourse with David, and from his letter, addressed
to Mr. Capron, I make the following extract: —
"To your loving presence, my much honored and
most excellent father, your servant Seymour, making
salaam with much reverence, writes as follows: Ac



392           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
cording to the request of the honored Mr. Noyes I was
strongly desirous to write you the brief history which
follows of my dear and most excellent father, the honored Mr. Scudder. Therefore to whomever you desire
to write and make known these facts, I earnestly beg
you to do me the favor to write and make them known
in my name.
" Those who knew and those who did not know our
dear and excellent teacher and father, will desire to
hear about the good disposition and wisdom well befitting a Christian teacher which were his, and about the
way in which he performed the splendid labor of his
service during the ten months that he came and lived
among us. At the time he came here and began his
great work, as all knew that he was recently from
America, it was to be expected that both the Christians
and the heathen should fasten their eyes on his disposition and his daily life. When he came he had learned
to speak the Tamil somewhat; he conversed with much
eagerness and benevolence, and with exceeding kindness, with the Christians and the heathen who came to
see him, speaking with the hesitancy of a child, and in
brief sentences, but striving to remove the errors of
heathenism, and to impress upon the mind the truth
of the Christian religion.  Besides, in order to give
instruction to the heathen, and to the members of the
congregation, he used to come to Periakulam morning
and evening, taking a few religious tracts in his hand,
and having first seen and spoken with those of my congregation in a quarter of Periakulam, who met him,
he would call me, and going into the village and seeing
men of various sects, and speaking wisdom with earnestness and patience, would distribute his books and




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.           393
return. When, as sometimes happened, a dispute arose,
he would reply with much love, and if he saw that
what he said was not understood by those who listened,
he would look at me with a smile, which indicated his
feelings. It was on this account, from the eagerness
he felt to be able to speak Tamil clearly, that ihe
learned so rapidly.....
" Once when he came by the way of Tenkarai to hold
a meeting in my congregation, he saw a few heathen
standing together.  Although he desired to make
known our Saviour to them, he was afraid that they
would make a disturbance, and did not speak to them;
this he not only mentioned to me and to the members
of the congregation, but thinking that he had denied
the Saviour, he earnestly begged forgiveness for this
fault in prayer.
"'.... nMoreover, among Christians also he exhibited an amiable disposition and a bright example. Although there were some well-known faults in the congregation, he did not despise the people on account of
their faults, but was constantly putting forth efforts that
they might, by whatever means, become true Christians.
If you told him about a weak Christian, he longed to
reconcile him and to establish him again in the Lord.
He would see him often and question him, and advise
him with patience, with thought of the Saviour, and
with tears, leading him to reflect upon his fault, and not
giving up till he had established him. Although a few
of the members of the congregation spoke roughly to
him, he would listen to them cheerfully and advise
them with much tenderness. There is no one of my
congregation whom he had not seen and conversed
with. Besides every week, on the Sabbath, after the




394           LIFE AND LETTERS OF
afternoon service he went regularly to three houses for
the purpose of having prayer with the people.
" There are facts which show that he was prepared
for death. For once reflecting about himself, he said
to me many times that he was a great sinner. That
he should speak in this way was very surprising to me,
for while I could not but believe that he was, as far as
I knew, a teacher who possessed the spirit of our
Saviour, the surprise was that he had such little
thought of himself as to say in this way that he was
a sinner. At another time, he began to converse with
me about true faith, and asked me to describe briefly
and accurately the faith which is necessary to salvation. To this I replied:' The faith which is necessary
to salvation is an eye which is always turned to Jesus
hanging upon the cross; it is an empty hand which is
always stretched out to receive the forgiveness, righteousness, wisdom, and other blessings which He graciously gives.  A  person of such faith that he may
win Christ and the righteousness which comes by Him,
will count all things else but dung.  Besides this faith
is not dead but living. It works by love, it purifies
the heart. This is the victory which overcomes the
world. It is by such marks as these that the faith
which we have will be found to be the true faith.''Is this so?' he asked;'then,' he asked himself,' have I such faith?'
" At another time he spoke about death. That one
who spoke thus about death had premonitions of his
own death there is evidence from his own words. For
when paying forty rupees, advance money, to a man
to get a touring-cart made for him, lie looked at the
man and said,'If I die, you must give this money




DAVID COIT SCUDDER.              950
without the least trouble to Mrs.. Scudder.' Finally,
a few days before he died, when he was questioning me
about the bliss of heaven, he enlarged upon the brief
reply which I made, and closed by saying,' Oh, that
will be joyful, joyful.'
"Alas! that one of such benevolence of heart, quick
perception, love for souls, delight in prayer, true godliness, self-abhorrence, unfailing perseverance, and other
noble qualities, who also had much learning, a keen
intellect, humility of opinion, so patient a disposition,
such vigor of body and youth, should die so suddenly,
is certainly to us a great loss."
To his former comrades, both in college and in
the theological seminary, the news of David's death
brought personal sorrow; they had not thought of
death in connection with one so flushed with life, so
full of great capacities of labor.  At Andover the
Senior Professor, when the intelligence came, met his
class in the lecture-room and spent an hour in a heartfelt tribute to the memory of one who had left upon
the seminary the stamp of his individual power. " You
could trace his course through this seminary," said he,
" as a river through a meadow, by the greenness of its
banks. If he had died immediately upon leaving us,
he would have done a life's work."
It needs not that mention should be made of the
sorrow which this death brought upon the household
which it entered. But the love of the father for his
son, which I have not set forth as I ought, strong in
the child's infancy, growing with his growth, sanctified by the sacrifice which it made in the world-wide
separation, deepened by the unceasing interchange of




390 LIFE AND LETTERS OF DAVID COIT SCUDDER.
thought and words of affection, - this love, answered
by the steadfast, tender feeling of the son, was permitted its fullest joy in the quick union of souls above.
The father, growing in years, had not thought to be
the one left behind. Nor was he long detained. The
first intelligence of the death, travelling for six weeks,
came in one short sentence upon the envelope of a
letter from Madras to the Missionary House.  On Friday, the 16th of January, 1863, came this message.
On the Wednesday following, our father, going out in
the morning through the city, felt weary and entered
an office to rest, where suddenly, without pain, without
the hour of trouble, he died.
It will not be thought strange that these two souls,
so joined in life, should be reunited also at death. To
our minds who knew them both they ever dwell together; and if it shall seem to any one reading this
memorial of a brother that it was not necessary to
record so uneventful a life, or that my partiality has
magnified the worth of one little known to the world,
let me answer that I have obeyed the request of my
father, uttered the night before his death, with no
thought that it would be his final charge to me. "It
is not," said he, " because I love my son that I think
his life worthy to be published, but because I think
that Christ will be honored and His cause advanced."
In the spirit which led him to ask me to prepare this
work, I have sought to perform it, and now offer it
reverently to Christ and the Church.
LA US DEO.




INDEX.
A. B. C. F. M., meeting of, 92.      Bloomfield, N. J., 88, 89, 90.
Aborigines of India, article on, 129.  Boden Professorship, 128, 133.
Abstract thought, disinclination of  Books, love of, 103.
D. C. S. for, 112, 124.            Bopp's Comparative Grammar, 134.
Accountability of Christians, 230.    Box from home, 314, 318, 319.
Activity of D. C. S., 11; in mind, 76, Boyishness, 75.
144.                               Brahmans, 180, 333.
Affectionate manner of the Hindls, Breckenridge, J. H., letter of, to C.
182.                                 Scudder, 387; letter to, from  C.
America, rebellion in, 261, 262.       Scudder, 390.
Amused, habit of being, 109.         Brethren, Christian, Society of, 78,
Ancestry, 1, 2.                        79, 101, 113, 116.
Andipatti, tour through, 280, 293, Buck, Henry, letter to, 352.
338; last visit to, 376.           Bullock driving, 212, 219, 220, 275.
Andover, 72, 73, 82.                 Bungalow, description of a, 204.
Animals, friendship of D. C. S. for, Bunsen, Chevalier, 134, 135.
14, 15.                            Burial services, 382-384.
Appearance of D. C. S. on entering  Burnell, Rev. T. T., letter to, 178;
college, 21, 24, 25.                 reference to, 242, 243, 244, 246,
Arcot Mission, 200.                    274.
Arnold, Thomas, influence of, on
D. C. S., 104.                     Caldwell's, Dr., Comparative GramAshes, rubbing of sacred, 181, 196,   mar, 129; History of Tinnevelly
235, 236.                            Mission, 276.
Cameron, Ill., adventures at, 150Ballantyne, Dr., 128, 132.             153.
Bandy, a, 176; description of, 195, Cape Cod, birthplace of D. C. S.'s
202; travelling in, 203, 275.        father, 1; visit to, 12, 13.
Banian-tree, 274, 291.               Capron, Rev. W. B., 102; letter to,
Barnstable, 1, 12.                     117; reference to, 221.
Bathing, 274, 334.                   Cares of missionary life, 367.
Battalagundu, 213.                   Caste, 243, 340.
Bazaar, a native, 182, 183; preach-  Catamaran, a, 173, 193.
ing in, 348.                       Catechist, a, at work, 190; account
Beach, Madras, 182.                    of D. C. S. by a, 378.
Beasts, wild, on the Pulney Hills,  Catholics, Roman, 89, 196.
314.                               Cattle, disease among, 297.
Beggars in Madras, 184, 189.         Cavery river, 210.
Belleville, N. J., 90.               Ceylon, 173.
Benevolent spirit  among  Hindu  Character of D. C. S. as missionary,
Christians, 224-226, 245.           392, 393.
Bible colportage, 86; purpose of, 87. Chatham, 12.
Bibliotheca  Stacra, essays in, 129, Child, birth of, to D. C. S., 260, 261.
132.                              Children, affection of, for D. C. S.,
Birth of D. C. S., 1.                  142, 377; in India, 179, 180, 185,
Birthday in India, 244.                186, 194, 236; missionary educa



398                             INDEX.
tion of, 8, 117, 140; talks to, 99, Earnestness, moral, 119.
100, 139-142.                     Economical expedients of D. C. S.,
Chinese faith, 253.                    30, 31.
Christians, native, character of, 227, Electra of Sophocles, 53.
256.                              Embarkation of missionaries, 161Christmas at Madura, 263.              163.
Classical studies, aptness of D. C. S. Energy of D. C. S., 144.
at, 16, 51.                        Enthusiasm in face of obstacles, 217,
Coit, family name of D. C. S.'s moth-    222.
er, 2.                             Essex Street, early home of D. C. S.
College-life, letter concerning, 323;   in, 5.
return to, 47; reluctance to end, 70. Examination as missionary, 227, 228,
College-mates, 27, 28; efforts in be-    273.
half of, by D. C. S., 44, 59, 60; Exhortation, direct, 91.
feeling for, 69, 70.
Como, Ill., visit to, 150.           Fair at Andipatti, 344.
Composition, difficulty of D. C. S. in, Faith in God, 326, 373, 394.
38, 52; new character of, 80.      Farm, at work on a, 19, 106.
Congregation, a Hindui, 190,267,280; Farmer-life, inclination of D. C. S.
additions to, 282.                   for a, 14, 19, 34.
Congregational Church, division in, Farming in India, 352-354.
3; adaptation to missionary enter-  Feast-day at Madura, 263.
prise, 139.                        Figurative language of the Hindus,
Conversation with D. C. S., 121, 122.    216.
Cook, petition of, 266.              Fishing in India, 238, 239.
Cromlechs, on the Pulneys, 358-361;  Fisk, Rev. D. T., letter to, 246.
at Mrna Madura, 362; in Peria-  Foster, John, 54, 104.
kulam, 363-366.
Crows in India, 194.                 Gardeners, Hindu', 335.
Genius, D. C. S. a man of, 108.
Dance of natives, 237.               Germany, letter to a classmate in,
Dark side of missionary experience,    135.
374.                               Gills, names of, in India, 268.
Day, a, on shipboard, 164, 165; at Girls' Boarding-School in Madura,
Madura, 258; at Periakulam, 333-    268, 269.
338.                               Good-nature of D. C. S., 109.
Dean, Rev. S. C., letters to, 102, Graduation of D. C. S. from college,
117, 118, 221.                       69.
Death, of D. C. S., 380; thoughts of
D. C. S. on, 158, 189, 394.        Hannibal, Mo., 152, 155.
Defender of the gospel, a, 191.      Hat, pith, 187.
Degradation of Hindis, 230, 254, Health-retreat of the mission, 297,
255, 256, 292, 372.                  303.
Despondency, 325.                    Heat of India, 262, 298, 304, 329.
Devotional habits of D. C. S., 330.   Heathenism, feelings in presence of,
Dhorey, a, 173.                        229, 230, 322; hopeless element of,
Diary of D. C. S., 88-92; character    257.
of, 88.                            Herrick, Rev. George F., letters to,
Dindigal, 207, 212, 218; rock at, 147,   125, 126, 351.
213.                               High Street, 93, 94.
Discipline, church, among the Hin- Hindf character, 217, 247, 276; indas, 375; self, of D. C. S., 43.    fluence upon, 387.
Donkeys, impounding of, 262, 263.   Hindu literature, papers on, 125,126;
Dress of Hindils, 194, 195.            philosophy, sketch of, 129; studies
Duff, Dr., quoted, 91.                 in, 113, 123, 130-133, 213, 351.
Dutton, George D., 161; letter to, Hindiism, character of, 130, 131,
327.                                132; studies in, 113, 123, 124, 126,
Dutton, Harriet L., 161.               130.




INDEX.                             399
Hoisington, Rev. H. R., 65, 82, 113, Marriage of D. C. S., 161.
124.                              Masullah boats, 145, 174.
Home, love of D. C. S. for, 159, 190, Maternal Association, 7.
293, 331.                         Mathematics, distaste of D. C. S. for
Home education of D. C. S., 4, 5, 6,   16, 32, 51.
26.                               Matthews, Capt. George, 164.
Hopkins, Dr. Mark, 67.               Meldr, 273.
Hyannis Port, 12.                    Memorial stone, 385.
Methodical life, 39.
Immaturity of mind, 68.              Mills Theological Society, 60-63.
"Independence must have limits,"  Missionaries, visit of, to Periakulam,
38.                                  300.
Indep)enzdet, newspaper, papers in, Missionary, resolution of D. C. S. to
117.                                 be a, 34, 35.
India, enjoyment of life in, 249, 251; Missionary cause in Boston, 7.
first impressions of, 176, 177, 331; Missionary education, of children, 8;
impatience of D. C. S. to reach,    of D. C. S., 64.
82, 83, 92, 107, 125, 145, 146; in- Missionary purpose, growth  of, in
terest of D. C. S. in, 66, 123, 136;    D. C. S., 60.
races in, 131.                    Missionary spirit, effort of D. C. S. to
Indian Ridge, 73, 118.                 increase, 63, 114, 115, 116, 117;
Indifference of natives to the gospel,   character of, 171, 172.
320.                              Missionary work, anticipation of, 169,
Inexperience of D. C. S., 25.          170-172. 173; compared with pasIrishwoman, encounter of D. C. S.   toral labor, 320, 321; discouragewith, 94.                            ments of, 217, 247, 248, 322; interest in, 345; manner of performing,
Janitor, duties of D. C. S. as, 30, 32.   392; plans of, 277, 281, 347.
Jeffrey, Francis, remark of, 109.    Mistakes in use of Tamil, 186, 187.
Journal, form of, 179.               Mohammedan boy, 205, 206; converJubilee, Mission, at Williamstown,    sation with a, 348; religion in In84-86.                               dia, 188.
Judicial office of the missionary, 217. Monkeys. 313.
Julia, child, 260, 261, 263, 264.    Monthly concert, 101; in Madras, 186.
Morbidness of feeling, 42, 55-58, 119,
Kali, the gardener's daughter, 236.    325; correction of, 59.
Kardr, 210, 211; fortress at, 208, 214. Mother, letters of D. C. S. to his, 39,
Kodangki, a, 243.                      347.
Kodi Kanal, 323, 383.                Mountain climbing, 22, 23.
Mount Road, Madras, 184.
Labaree, Rev. Benjamin, Jr., letters  Muir's Sanskrit Texts, 133.
to, 158, 160.                      Mullens, Rev. Joseph, 128, 132.
"Letters to a Young Student," 39.   Miiller, Max, 128, 133, 134.
Letters to Sunday-schools, 191.
Libraries, use of, 123, 124.         Nhmkal, letter from, 204.
Lord's Supper, celebration of, 301, "National Eagle," 164.
339, 340, 374..                  Naturalness of religious expression
Lothrop, Mrs., teacher of D. C. S.,   in D. C. S., 36, 37.
6, 8.                              Nature, influence of, on D. C. S., 15,
21, 23, 26, 105.
Madras, 146; landing at, 176, 193.    Nature in India, 238, 254, 255.
Madura, arrival at, 218; residence  Neighborhood meetings, 98, 99.
in, 223; Mission, 140; interest of  Nephew, letter of D. C. S. to his, 323.
D. C. S. in, 386; meeting at, 223- Newark, 92.
228.                              Newman, Rev. Charles, letter from,
Mallur, letter from, 200.              75; reference to, 102; letter to, 254.
Mana Madura, 361.                   New  Year's day at Madura, 264,
Mar Yohannan, visit of, in Boston, 11.    265.




400                             INDEX.
Niagara Falls, 148, 149.             Rank of D. C. S. in college, 43.
Niece, letter to a, 233.             Reading, taste of D. C. S. in, 54, 80,
Noyes, Rev. Mr., 227.                  103.
Recorder, Boston, papers in, 126.
Objections to the gospel by Hindis,  Religion, conventional phraseology
240.                                 of, 40, 41; struggle of D. C. S. in
Oddness of manner in D. C. S., 45,   deciding question of personal, 3246.                                  34; zeal in, 43.
Oppert's Grammar, 128, 134.          Religious awakening of D. C. S. the
Orange, town of, 88, 89, 90.           beginning of intellectual activity,
Ordination of D. C. S. as mission-    36; education of D. C. S., 18, 26,
ary, 161.                            32; feeling, 120, 121; feeling, variOrthodox, sect of, 3; social limita-    ability of, 42, 43.
tions of the, 3.                   Rendall, Rev. Mr., 220.
Out-door life of D. C. S., 15, 21, 23, Rhetoric, sacred, 111.
24, 76, 77.                        Rhododendron-tree, over grave, 383,
Outness of life of D. C. S., 16, 17, 31,    384.
36, 45.                            River, coming down of the, 252, 368,
370; mode of crossing the Cavery,
Palanquin, or palkee, 181, 182, 203;    210; crossing the Vaikai, 369, 371,
bearers, 187.                        372, 379.
Palmer, Rev. Charles Ray, letter  Rock Cottage, 309, 393.
from, 107-112, 114-116; letter to, Roxbury, removal of family to, 13;
249.                                life at, 14-16; recollections of, 105.
Parents, letter of D. C. S. to his, 36. Royapuram, 189.
Paul's Epistles, study of, 170.
Peddler, Polish, 91.                 Sailors, interest of D. C. S. in, 165Periakulam, appointment to, 275;    167.
description of, 278, 279; descrip-  St. Hilaire, Barthelemy, 133.
tion of house at, 284-288; removal  St. Joseph, Mo., 154.
to, 283.                           Salem, India, 200, 202.
Perkins, Dr. Justin, 11, 127.        Salutation, mode of, in India, 184.
Personal appeal, value of, 120.      Sanskrit language  and literature,
Phillips Academy, 73, 120.             128, 133, 134, 164-166, 169, 346.
Philosophy, Hindfi, studies in, 113,  Saturday at home, 119.
123, 130-133, 213, 351.            Savarimuttu, 219, 265.
Philosophy of History, 134, 135.     Scanning verse, 51.
Pilliyar, temple of, 181, 197, 206,  Scenery about Periakulam, 289.
209, 229.                          Scholarship of D. C. S., 386, 388.
Poor children, love of D. C. S. for, 97.  School, education of D. C. S. at, 6,
Popham's Broadway, Madras, 145,    16; comrades, 17; in India, 183,
146, 181.                            184, 344.
Prayer, for missions, 218; meetings  School-girls, in India, 268, 272.
for, 100; morning, at Periakulam,  School-houses, in India, 242, 269.
336.                               Schools, mission, scheme of supportPreaching, character of, 137; object   ing, 140, 191.
in, 139; on shipboard, 165; in Ma-  Schools, Sunday, letters to, 192-199,
dras, 185; to natives, 205, 206,216,   241-246, 267-272.
239-242; plan for, 349, 350.       Scudder, Charles, father of D. C. S.,
Presidential election, 92.             1; business life of, 2; church conPulney Hills, 279, 289, 298, 303, 321;    nection of, 3; character of, 4; hosleaving the, 328.                    pitality of, to missionaries, 9; inPunkah, 185, 201.                      fluence of, over D. C. S., 28; letPuritan origin, 1, 2.                  ters of, to D. C. S., 28, 29, 83, 84;
Purpose, intensity of, 44, 45.         failure of, in business, 34; intercourse of D. C. S. with, 100; partQuarrel among native  Christians,   ing of, with son, 163; remembrance
374.                                 of, by D. C. S., 250; letters to,




INDEX.                             401
from D. C. S., 251, 324; letter to, " Tales about the Heathen," 143.
from J. H. Breckenridge, 387; let-  Tamil language, study of, 65, 66,
ter of, to same, 390; death of, 396.   101, 113, 124, 126, 127; first experScudder, Charles W., letter to, 372.    iments in use of, 174, 176, 177,
Scudder, Charles W., Mrs., letter to,   180, 186; mistakes in use of, 186,
290.                                 187.
Scudder, D. C., Mrs., 380, 381, 386.  Tamil lyrics, 190, 227, 254.
Scudder, Rev. Evarts, 161; letters to, Tamil story, 259, 260.
189, 259.                         Tank, water, 252, 265, 266.
Scudder, Horace E., letters to, 228, Taylor, Isaac, writings  of, 104,
238, 275, 319, 333, 345, 367.        105.
Scudder, Dr. John, connection of, Temperament, variable, of D. C. S.,
with family of D. C. S., 9; ad-   42, 87, 109, 110.
dresses of, to children, 9, 10; per-  Temple, heathen, 197, 198, 205, 206,
sonal influence of, over D. C. S.,   229, 230-233, 235, 245, 255.
10, 35, 142; death of, 35.        Temple Place, 5.
Scudder, Rev. John, 164, 166, 175, Theological Seminary, entrance of,
176.                                72; life in, 77, 78, 81; classes of
Scudder, Samuel H., letters to, 238,   students in, 115; notice of D. C. S.
250, 332.                           in, 395.
Scudder, Silas, 201.                Theology, study of, 111.
Scudder family, origin, 1; residence, Thinking, systematic efforts of D. C.
5; home life, 5, 6.                 S. at, 38, 52.
Search for remains of D. C. S., 380, Thompson, Rev. A. L., 138, 157,158,
381.                                160.
Self-examination, 40.               Tippoo Saib, 214.
Self-reproach, 325, 332.            Touring, 215; preparations for, 293,
Senior vear at Williams College, 67.   294.
Sermon, missionary, 137, 138.       Tract distribution, 93.
Servants, 267, 284, 327.            Treat, Rev. S. B., letter to, 170Seymour, Pastor, 285; letter from,   172.
391.                              Trinitarian creed, dissent from, 2.
Short, Charles, 16.
Sister, letters from D. C. S. to his, Union Church, 3, 6.
82, 168, 250, 276, 293, 321.
Siva, three marks of, 174, 209.     Vacation in college, 46-48, 54.
Society, aversion of D. C. S. from   Vegetation, Indian, 290-292; on the
formal, 74.                          Pulneys, 310.
Society of Inquiry, 114.            Vellore Mission, 200.
Solavanthan, recovery of remains  Vessels found in  cromlechs, 362,
from, 382.                           365.
Song, funeral, of Christians, 384.  View from Pulneys, 311.
Soothsayer, a, 243.                 Village in India, 193.
Sophomore year at college, 52, 54.   Voyage to Madras, length of, 164,
Storm on Pulneys, 315, 361.           192.
Street-life of D. C. S., 11, 12.
Street-preaching, 239, 240, 241.    War between England and AmerStudy, habits of, 31, 51, 110; on ship-   ica, rumors of a, 263.
board, 172, 173.                  Washburn, Rev. Geo. T., 124, 125;
Sturtevant, Rev. J. M., Jr., letter   letters to, 127, 128, 130-135, 143,
from, 119-122; letters to, 137-139,   145-147, 160; letter from, 382.
164.                              Webb, Rev. Edward, 124, 161, 164,
Style of life among missionaries, 327,   200, 205, 209, 215.
328.                              Well, an Indian, 286; drawing water
Sunday on shipboard, 165, 166.         from, 335.
Swedish Bible-class, 97, 98, 118.   West, journey to the, 147-157.
Swimming-basin, 274.                Western aspects, 157.
Swings for heathen gods, 198.        Wethersfield, Conn., 19, 106.
26




402                           INDEX.
Whimsicality of D. C. S., 45, 46, 75, Williamstown, character of 22; exit
76.                               from, 46, 47; places of interest
White,       r., 21Rev.             aboMr.t, 49, 214.  about, 49, 50; attachment of D. C.
Williams, Monier, 128,133, 134.      S. to 70, 71; visit to, 81, 84-86;
Williams College, number of stu-   recollection of, 168.
dents in, 26; character of commu- Windy season, 341.
nity in, 26, 27; life at, 47, 50; senior Winslow, Rev. Miron, 177, 185.
year in, 67; system of education in, Woodin, Rev. Simeon F., 92; letter
67, 68; interest of D. C. S. in, 81;   to, 253.
letter to a nephew in, 323.