had better not be too inquisitive about such miraculous doings. About fifty years ago the two schools were represented by Báhádursing and Allibhái. The former was a Pardesi,[1] the latter a Borá. Both were illiterate. The first served as gate-keeper for Rs. 7 a month, the second eked out a precarious existence by patching up old gunny-bags. What would Carlyle have said to this? Men who could answer, in impromptu verse, the most intricate questions of philosophy and metaphysics, who could thus hold forth at public meetings for a week and a fortnight: illiterate, ill-favoured men "building the lofty rhyme" with the rapidity with which fairies build enchanted castles! Few know of the struggles of these heroic souls, the "mute inglorious Miltons" of India—men like Kabir[2]and Nának,[3] Sahajánand,[4] Tukárám,[5] and Bahadursing and Allibhái.
The Kalagiwálás were remarkable for their "linked sweetness," a lively fancy, and all those
