bridge, and on this occasion it was crowded with natives eager to see the funeral procession. Suddenly the wooden structure gave way and the mass of sightseers were precipitated into the water. Some English gentlemen, who happened to be within reach, heard the cries of the people and ran to their assistance. Thanks to their efforts only five of the natives were drowned.[1]
At the time when I was beginning to make the acquaintance of Madras and its beautiful suburbs, through the exigencies of social duties, the fort chaplaincy was held by Dr. Sayers. His wife was dead, and her body laid to rest in the cemetery on the island. As there was no lady in the chaplain’s quarters, I had no occasion to call at the old house, which after many years afterwards my husband and I occupied; but Dr. Sayers called upon me. He was an excitable Irishman, with a reputation for preaching eccentric sermons. Speech was given us ‘to hide our thoughts.’ With Dr. Sayers his ready speech betrayed his thoughts all too quickly, and raised laughter or wrath as the case may be. In his sermons it led him into familiar terms which brought smiles to the faces of his hearers. In speaking of Boaz and Ruth he said, ‘She was just a grass-cutter, such as you may see any day of your lives in the Mount Road.’
One Sunday, when the weather was hot and the punkahwallahs slack in their duties, he noticed that his congregation showed signs of somnolence. His ready Irish wit came to his assistance at once. He broke off from his subject and began to reprove them for their lethargy after this fashion: ‘When you come to church to listen to the word of God your attention wanders and you let sleep paralyse your senses. But if it were clothes,
- ↑ Among the gentlemen were Captain C. J. Smith, R. E., Mr. Turnbull, Mr. George Chambers, Dr. Benson and Dr. Formby of the Medical Service, Mr. Burr, and Mr. C. Pinsent.
