She sent for him, and he came to our house to convert me, not by reasoning to the truth, but by the pretended majesty of his rank,--by his appeals to the Hindoo customs,--unto gross superstition, which, with prayers and tears I was trying to get rid of. At first I made excuses, saying, “Let him give ‘montra’ (sacred words) to my oldest brother; I am young, so there is no hurry about it now,” etc. But I knew full well the purpose of my mother,--that she was anxious to chain _me_, who was about to fly away from the gods! She said it would look well to have the two brothers take _montra_ together--that it would cost less, etc. More than six times the day for our “Oopodesh” had been fixed, but I was where I was, or perhaps a little “higher.” Sometimes, seeing that man coming to our house, from a distance, I would immediately go to some friends and remain there until he had gone home. My mother would follow my track now and then and bring me to him, and plead for my indifference! One afternoon I was sleeping in my room, and he came and began to talk to my mother. I determined not to see him (as the rule would require me to prostrate myself before him, which I hated to do). I thought I would go out by the back door, and thereby escape the degradation of worshipping a man for the present, if not the rebukes of my mother. But she came into my room ere I had time to put my theory into practice, saying, “Joguth! Joguth! there is Gooroo, who wants to see you.” I tried vainly to keep still and pay no heed to her, as if I was in a profound sleep! She whispered into my ear, “Do not insult the Gooroo--it is an unpardonable sin on your part, Joguth. His look of displeasure will surely burn you to death,” etc. At last, finding her too urgent, I declared openly that I had got the “montras” from a Teacher, and that I did not want any other than these, “The Lord our God is one Lord,” or “Om aka meb ’ŏ the ti-ung,” “There is _one_ God without a second.” This did not satisfy her; although my constant indifference to the Gooroo frightened him so he never dared to raise the question again, yet my mother, perhaps, still hopes that I might yield, for she _cannot_ conceive how I could do otherwise.