There is another point to be remembered. There is no doubt that Christianity if preached as the Asiatic faith which it really is, and not as the European religion which we have (inevitably and properly) made it for ourselves, can do much for the Islamic races. It is equally certain that those Islamic races can do much for Christianity. But, with all their reverence for Seyidna Isa (our Lord Jesus) Mussulmans will never accept Him, even as a superior prophet to their Hazrat-i-Mohammed, till they learn to respect the native Christians whom they see among them. So it would seem that all mission work must necessarily apply itself first to the uplifting of the native Christians, and leave the conversion of Islam to the future. Islam meanwhile has to face a great problem of its own; viz. will faith in their Prophet's teaching survive the impact of modern science, coupled with the political subjugation of the last great Moslem Powers? If not, what will take its place? For who dare contemplate such a phenomenon as a religionless East? Urmi considers itself a civilized and educated town, and all its prominent citizens wear the most correct of _alafranga_ clothes. Even the mysteries of the right relation of collar and tie have been mastered now, perplexing though the problem is. But behind all this aping of modernity one rejoices unfeignedly (if perhaps unrighteously) to find a good deal of primitive paganism. That oldest faith of the land, the aboriginal tree-worship, still lingers in the villages; and indeed is only despised by the townsfolk when the foreigner is within hearing. Does not the Sacred Tree of the village of Kerdami--a noble ilex of most unusual size--still command more than reverence? A rag from the garments of any sufferer from any disease has only to be tied on to one of its branches to secure relief infallibly. Once only has any man been known to treat it with any disrespect, when a profane villager of Protestant sympathies dared to abstract a fallen bough that was still sound enough to make a bridge for a wide irrigation cut in his field. Soon, however, he had reason to repent his temerity; for first the roof of his outhouse fell, and then his buffalo died; then his wife died, and finally his son fell ill. In terror at the series of calamities, he restored the bough and made a propitiatory offering at one of the neighbouring churches; on which the lad recovered. And none has dared to speak against the tree since!