As we meet and touch each day
The many travellers on the way,
Let every such brief contact be
A glorious helpful ministry—
The contact of the soil and seed,
Each giving to the other's need,
Each helping on the other's best,
And blessing each, as well as blest.
ON December 4, 1875, we left London for Trieste, en route for India. It was not a cheerful day for saying good-bye to Old England and dear friends. There was a fog as black as midnight, thick snow was lying about the streets, and a dull red gloom only rendered the darkness visible and horrible. The great city was wrapped in the sullen splendours of a London fog. "It looks," said Richard, "as if the city were in mourning for some great national crime." "No," I said, "rather let us think that our fatherland
- ↑ This and the next chapter are compiled from the original notes from which Lady Burton wrote her A. E. I. and sundry letters and diaries. By so doing I am able to give the Indian tour in her own words.
