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CHAPTER XIII
TRICHINOPOLY
Take heed not to trust yourself to the current of a river, to the claws or orns of an animal, or to the promises of kings.— Sloka.
Eighteen months passed and my husband received orders to go to Trichinopoly to relieve a chaplain who was going on leave. With all the social and pastoral duties that were expected of us, the time had passed quickly, and it was with mixed feelings that we took our leave of the Presidency town.
The South Indian Railway was not opened then as far as Madras, and the journey to Trichinopoly had to be made via Erode, where the Madras Railway connected with the South Indian. The heat was great— it was February—but as it was my first journey inland I looked forward to it with pleasure.
We started in the evening and began our travels in the darkness of the night. For hours the train seemed to be running through a vast plain devoid of town or village. Here and there a single light flickered in the distance, suggestive of a solitary watcher. At long intervals we ran into noisy little stations. A halt of eight or ten minutes ended in the shrill familiar whistle of the guard, and we glided out again into the loneliness and darkness of the plain. In the early hours of the morning the air grew perceptibly cooler. I looked out of the window and saw the rugged outline of hills on
