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these labourers would never have come to me, just as my men will never dream of going to Mr. Desikachari if they had a grievance. What is the use of recreation grounds and night schools and museums when men's self-respect is killed and they are desired not to show it? What is the good of educative and pleasure-giving in stitutions when the very soul of the labourer is crushed, when he has no time from 6 A.M. to 6 P.M. during which period he can only sing : For, all day, the wheels are droning, turning; Their wind come in our faces, Till our hearts turn, our heads, with pulses burning, And the walls turn in their places Turps the sky in the high window blank and realing, Turns the long light that drops down the wall, Turn the black flies that crawl along the ceiling. All are turning, all the day, and we with all And all day, the iron wheels are droning i And sometimes we could pray, “O ye wheels” (breaking out in a mad moaning) “Stop ! be silent for to-day.” Mr. Desikachari and his like ought to develop a little imagination and look at the problem from a spiritual point of view. THE RICKSHAW-WALLAS But let me go on with the story of our work. While you were waiting and watching, often not under standing why I remained quiet and ordered that no meetings should be held, the price of focd-stuffs continued to go up, and the economic pressure caused disturbance in several places in the Presidency. In our