HOW SOME MISSIONARIES TRAVEL.

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(Extract from a letter written by Pauline Root, M. D., Medical missionary in Madura, India.)
My Dear Friend:

Have you any sort of an idea what it is to travel in a bullock bandy? The wagon itself I suppose to be somewhat like what the Western emigrants used, in days gone by. It is supposed to be very comfortable, and sometimes three or four persons occupy one; but how they do it, is a mystery to me, for my two trips have been by myself, and I certainly had no room to spare.

My first experience was in going to visit a sick missionary thirty-eight miles away. It was during the rainy season. I took with me a servant, who spoke English, and if it had not been for that, I don't know what I should have done.

Bullocks were supposed to be posted along the road, but at the first changing place, none could be hired. We went on, four miles, and there succeeded in getting a pair so frisky that I seemed at times in danger of losing my life. How they did behave! One was especially unwilling to be tied. More than once the bandy bumped down with me, and one bullock ran away up the road, leaving the other beside himself with fear. However, we got started at last, but I was afraid of something happening all the time we had those animals.

The river, which in the dry season is simply a great bed of sand, in the rainy season is sometimes so high that bandys cannot cross, except on rafts, and sometimes not at all, because of the very swift current.

On our return trip the river was nearly its full width, and was rushing along with a tremendous sweep. It was not very deep, however, and I decided not to wait the river's pleasure, but to risk crossing it. It took twenty-one men to get us across that river! Pudchi, my servant, piled all my boxes on the board, which, in a bandy, is the bed, and he and I perched ourselves on them, balancing as best we could. One man went ahead to sound the river, two guided the bullocks' heads, two drove, eight took the wheels, five pushed, and the others steadied us; for more than once it seemed as if the current would sweep us over. However, after the first scare, I felt safe, and rather enjoyed my ride. Landed on the other side of the river, the water was emptied out of the bandy, and we went on, for hours, through the palm-tree forests and the banyan-lined avenues. The moonlight was almost dazzling, and the banyan and palm-trees glittered like silver.

Would you like to know the cost of getting over that river? It cost two cents a man! The roads were so muddy that we had occasionally to get help, to push the bandy along. Once, in getting out of a hole, the wheel was thrown over the bank of a tauk; the driver did not dare try going on, with me inside, so I crawled out over the wheel! We were thirteen hours in making the thirty-eight miles. Part of the time I arranged my pillows and tried to be comfortable; but what comfort can you take when, even by bracing yourself, you cannot keep quiet for a moment?

After part of the thirteen hours were spent, I found I was indulging in a headache. I did my head up in a wet towel, and tried to apply "Mentholine" to my forehead; but the jolting of the bandy caused me, when aiming at one temple, to thrust the instrument into the opposite eye. After some experiments I thought it might be safer to make a dive for an eye in the first place, and see where the cone would land, but concluded not to try it.

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