"I'm always trying to stop it, but with little success; there are men in the city, living at their ease, and piling up thousands, while these"--pointing to the broad expanse of cane land and the swarms of workers below--"toil." "Usury is the ancient custom of the country," she remarked. "So was once suttee. It is the curse of India." "Do you know any of the money-lenders?" "Yes; some of the native bankers are fair and square. It is the private ones, who are the fiends. They have neither fear nor pity. They charge daily interest, they count their victims by hundreds--their slaves; for generations they toil always for the money-lender; children succeed to the family debts, which go from father to son; they represent valuable live asset to the soucar, who fattens on their earnings! His only fear or risk is the cholera, which sweeps away whole villages, and then there is none left to pay! Many of these poor creatures do not know what it is to have two meals a day. I could not have believed, had I not seen it for myself, how abject is their poverty." Here he smothered a sigh. "What a hopeless state of affairs!" exclaimed the girl. "Yes; and they are content with so little. If a man has enough to eat, a roof to cover him, a little tobacco for himself and some pewter bangles for his wife, he asks no more." "He could not well ask for less!" "I declare I feel in a blazing rage when I think of his misery and toil, and the wealth and indolence of those who are literally devouring his life. Now, observe the people coming in with carts of cane and barrels of juice; they are almost like skeletons, or is it my imagination? There, you see, two of them are quarrelling about something--possibly a copper coin, worth half a farthing. They often quarrel; it is one of the most quarrelsome circles in India." "What do they quarrel about?" she asked. "I can tell you," said Mr. Lepell, who was listening, "generally land. In other countries people are attached to their ancestral acres; in India it is a mania." "Have they never any amusements?" inquired Mrs. Barwell, who had approached. "Yes; those who are pretty well off excel in wrestling matches; they have quail and cock-fighting, and they are all fond of cards and gambling and kite flying," said Mr. Lepell, "and now shall we go down to tea?" Salwey and Verona still lingered on the roof; she was taking a last long look at the scene, the winding river, the cane crops, the little villages, the distant city. In the golden rays of a gorgeous sunset India looked both rich and prosperous. "Well, what do you think of it?" inquired Salwey. "I like it," she answered; "it is my native country; there is something mysterious and fascinating about it. Even before I knew that I was born out here, I yearned to come to India." "In short, you heard the East calling." "Yes," she replied, "and now I hear Mr. Lepell calling, and we must go." * * * * *