I can't understand why you do not believe in Christ, unless—yes, it must be so—you have been too busy to think about Him and you have not really needed His help yet. You never have had any trouble and felt all alone in the big world, without any one to help you, have you? Until that time comes I suppose people are too busy having a good time to think about religion. I have noticed that here in my teaching among my own people, but I did not suppose it was so in America, for I thought everybody believed there. Here I have seen that when people are kept quiet for a time because of sickness or sorrow, when they have time to think and when earthly friends cannot help, then Christ most easily makes Himself known to them. I know this is so for I have proved it myself. And I know Christ!
Yes, it does make me very happy!
Oh, I had forgotten this station. But we will stop here only a few minutes and as it is a small station I don't think any one else will get on. Here comes a gentleman to the window.
Thank you. An orange would taste good and refresh me. Although this is our cold season, it does get pretty warm in the middle of the day.
Your husband? You are taking a trip around the world for pleasure. What interesting things you must have seen! Your husband is a lecturer. Oh, I see, and he is taking pictures with his camera for his lectures, I suppose. He is going to take that boy with his pan of sweets. See?
There is the bell! He got the picture just in time.
Shall I go on with my story? But, please, don't let me tire you.
No, I'll save my orange a little while for I cannot eat when I have a chance to talk on this subject. Do you know much about the Parsis?
Well, I'll tell you a little so that you can understand my situation. We Parsis are Persians; but when the Mohammedans came into our country and began to persecute us, gained political control, and tried to make us accept their religion by force, many of us fled to India, most of whom are now settled around Bombay.
The women all dress about as I do with a little cotton waist, you see, and a one-coloured sari; delicate pinks and blues are favourite colours, edged with fancy embroidered borders, often of pure gold or silver. We wear stockings and slippers, the latter usually more elaborately embroidered than mine. We wear, also, this peculiar head-binder, a white cloth drawn tightly around the head, covering the hair under the sari. Our men invariably dress as Europeans these days, for that dress is so convenient, but they may be recognized by an oddly shaped cap which Miss Miller says looks as if it were made of what you in America call black oilcloth, I think it is. Of course the sacred emblems of Parsiism are worn under the clothing and do not show, the shirt and the kusti.