and flew away with it." "The poor king must have cried then ?" interrupted Sunder Singh. Champavati smiled, a calm sad smile, at this innocent query of her little brother. She fondly caressed him and answered, "He was not a stupid child like thee to cry at such a thing." "Am I a stupid child?" asked her brother with evident embarrassment. "Yes, thou art a very stupid and naughty darling," she said. This hurt the child's innocent vanity, and touched to the quick he answered in sweet defiance: "No, I am wise and good." Upon this Champavati's cruel retort "Wise and good children do not always cry was, for food." The child answered in a helpless tone, "What am I to do? I am hungry and so I weep. I am very hungry." There was pathetic eloquence in this simple statement of a fact,Champavati endeavoured to speak, but her voice failed her, What should she say? what could she say?-She was painfully conscious that her brother was extremely hungry and at this thought she was on the point of sobbing and breaking down. She restrained herself and wiped away a tear.

a

She lovingly embraced her brother and put the flower-garland which had been by now completed, on his neck.

All of a sudden Sunder Singh uttered a cry and raising his tiny hand to his neck, looked up imploringly in his sister's face. Champavati hastily drew off his hand from his neck and saw that the skin had grown blackish and that there was a swelling on the spot. Immediately she noticed a bee flying away from one of the flowers of the garland. The bee had stung the child on the neck. All this while Sunder Singh was crying bitterly and to soothe him Champavati told him that she would give him bread to eat. Saying this she got up but' felt dizzy and sat down again. After a moment she rose and drank some water from the stream. This somewhat refreshed her. Then taking the child in

her arms she slowly made up to the place of their parent's abode.

THE KING AND THE QUEEN.

Is there one cruel turn of fortune's wheel unseen of me?

Is there a pang, a grief my wounded heart has missed?

In a cottage embowered by wild shrubs, in the heart of the dreary forest, on an obscure and desolate spot, surrounded all round by a wall of bamboo trees through which a narrow way had been made, sat Rana Pratap and his Queen Maharani Gunwati. They were clothed in the coursest garments and looked very sad. But behind this miserable exterior shone the formidable Rajput valour and the indomitable Rajput courage. Both seemed absorbed in some sad thought. After a while the Rana heaved a sigh and said, "Gunwati how unfortunate we are today. For the first time it is that a hungry Brahman had to go away from our doors without receiving food. O' God to what a pitiable condition have we been reduced! Alas, that it was to come to this!-the descendants of the chiefs of Chittore, the crown and glory of the Kshattriya "race, who once held sway over the whole of Rajasthan reduced to such ignoble poverty! A hungry Brahman had to return from these doors unfed. How can I bear the cruel shame of it? God, take mercy on us and put an end to this. How I would welcome death at this moment!" Saying this the Rana fell down senseless. The Maharani raised him, and taking his head in her lap began to fan him with the skirts of her saree. After a while the Rana opened his eyes. The Maharani said, "My Lord, be not so much downcast. Bhagwan who has not forsaken us till now will not withdraw the hand of his help at this moment of trial. Bhagwan is merciful. And so, My Lord, I beseech you not to allow this trouble to break your heart. This

state does not become the lion-hearted Raha

gether, and gave the rest of their shares to their children.

Such had been the Rana's hard fate now for years. For freedom's sake he had been compelled to taste the bitter cup of adversity and to drink it to its dregs. Only the inspiration of his cause sustained him through these trials and enabled him to bear up in the face of such an ordeal right manfully. A pathetic light is thrown on this solitary figure," clinging to hope with the tenacity of despair," bearing the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune without any sign of dismay and following the gleam—the gleam of liberty, of freedom and franchisement with a calm, heroic, almost superhuman faith.

On the morning of the day of which we write, the Rana's servants had brought a small quantity of flour. When the cakes were made of it they were so few that only the Rana's Rajput followers and the Rana's children could get, each a cake or two. The Rana and the Maharani took nothing. Champavati knew it and herself abstained from eating her share. The two small cakes which she had just brought were the same that she had preserved. The Rana, as we have said, was deeply moved by this example of self-sacrifice and for a moment experienced that supreme bliss which the sight of a noble deed always brings,

But the sight of these small cakes only partly allayed the Rana's anxiety. His next care was that more cakes were required to satisfy a hungry man. He communicated his anxiety to Rani Gunwati in a whisper, not daring to belittle his daughter's utmost self-denial,—alas it was by her utmost self-sacrifice that even these two tiny cakes had been preserved-by telling her that they would not do. But, as if guided by the unfailing instinct of sympathy, the girl said immediately,

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Father, I have two pieces with me and I think that we may buy some more flour for these and make some more cakes which would be enough for the alithi." The Rana snatched the copper-coins

from his daughter's hand as she was holding them out to him and hastened to the market.

Shortly after the Rana's return the Brahman reappeared. Beforehand Champavati had cleared the place near the hut and placed a grass mattress for the guest. The atithi looked fifty `years old and even in rags he appeared grand and commanding. As he approached the cottage he called out, “A hungry Brahman wants some food. God bless thee." Champavati came out of the hut and asked him, to sit down on the mattress. As he sat down he asked Champavati, "who art thou my child?" Champavati said, "I am Ranaji's daughter at your holiness' service." The stranger's face displayed a suppressed compassion and loving admiration, as saying this the girl went inside to bring the scanty food for him, She returned with about ten small cakes on plantain leaf and some chatni and placed these with a glass of water before the atithi. The atithi began to eat,

Champavati-(hanging down her head in shame) "Maharaj, it is due to our poverty that you have to eat this course food. How can you ever like such bad diet?”

Atithi-" No, my child, there is no harm. I like the food. God will bless thee."

After a while he finished and rose to depart. A glow of joy illumined Champavati's face-she had bought this precious moment of bliss at great cost and the joy was as great as the sacrifice.

While leaving, the satisfied Brahman blessed Champavati and said that at night he would again come to see the Rana. Champavati entered the hut in order to tell her parents that the Brahman went away well satisfied, and thus to enable them to share the bliss that was hers. But hunger had weakened her extremely and she fell down head-long at the threshold-senseless.

It was pitch dark. A brisk breeze hissed through the thick cluster of trees and shrubs. The branches waved, the twigs shook and the leaves trembled as if afraid of the black night. On a mattress lay the thin figure of a girl, a mere skeleton, faintly moving about amid the last agonies of death. It was Champavati lying on her death bed and gasping for breath. By her sat Rana Pratap and Rani Gunwati in an attitude of helpless awe. Sunder Singh was now wide awake. Rana Pratap (heaving a sigh) “O God, if thou hast given me such worthy progeny why dost thou snatch them away from me so soon?”

Sunder Singh-"Mother why is sister lying so?" Rani Gunwati-(wiping a tear) "she is sleeping, my son."

There was a pause.

After a while the Rana broke the silence and spoke to the Rani :

Rana Pratap " Well, what reply shall we send to Akbar? He says he will befriend me if I acknowledge his supremacy. He is very. keen on having friendly relations with me. I do not know how he has come to know of our helpless condition, for he writes that he is very much grieved at our plight. He implores me in the name of our children whose sufferings, he says, have greatly moved him, to conclude a treaty with him with a nominal acknowledgment of his supremacy. He concludes that if I am not prepared to listen to his proposal I may go any where and he promises never again to molest us. (Just then a voice was heard outside the hut, the Rana was startled and asked) "who is there?" No one answered.

Gunwati-" Perhaps it was only the cracking

of the fallen leaves."

Rana Pratap-" I think Akbar is a generoushearted man."

As if galvanised by the words Champavati half rose and reclining on her two bony arms and shaking all over, spoke in historic accents. For

once passion seemed to have given her a victory over death. She said, "Yes, to-day you have discovered Akbar's generosity, tomorrow you will be tempted by one of his official services and the next day you will become his proud servant. But, remember, that day you will ring the deathknell of Rajput independence. Does he say he feels pity at your children's sufferings? Perhaps he is not aware, simple man, that the Rana's children are not so made of such tender fibre. Perhaps he has forgotten Haldighat ?"

This was her supreme effort and she fell down exhausted. The Rana and the Rani looked at the girl in dumb amazement. Gunwati pressed the girl's temples to see if high fever had not made her delirious.

Champavati-(In a faint halting voice whose gentleness seemed already to come from another world). "No, mother, I am not delirious Father, do not listen to Akbar."

The Rana-(Inspired and excited) "Beside thy death-bed I swear that so long as I live I shall fight for chittore. Only for one moment and for one moment only parental love had got the better of my sense of duty. But I am firm again. So long as I have such progeny as thou to inspire me and hearten me I shall not be defeated by Akbar."

Champavati-" That is it.”

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I. BY THE HON. DR. SIR NILRATAN SARCAR

At the conclusion of the war, we find the taks before the medical profession a tremendous one. To guide the destinies of millions of men to an average standard of health after this serious disturbance of normal conditions is the medical man's duty and the privilege. In order to recoup the numerical deficiency, it would be necessary to have resort to improved hygenic conditions, improved food, improved education, particularly of mothers -to improved economic conditions and to improved self-restraint, particularly as regards the consumption of alcohol. Humanity must conserve every bit of its resources and it is her interest now to prolong, every life that has been spared by removing as many causes leading to death as possible.

While the economical, educational and other social questions involved in the object will be solved by others, the medical profession must concern itself with a wider spread of sanitary ideas and measures. And those in power are bound to devote their earnest attention to the healing of a wound that has been inflicted upon the body corporate of humanity by the wanton culpability of some of them. We are happy to notice that in England there is already a proposal for the creation of a Ministry of Health. I am extremely happy to find that the Surgeon-General to the Government of India has also taken up the work of post-war reconstruction in right earnest.

THE EPIDEMICS.

Before the war had finished its mad career, there appeared in the field another enemy of humanity, perhaps of a more formidable nature. Early in summer of this year, the pandemic ordinarily believed to the Influenza made its appearance in Spain and soon spread throughout the World including India. In India, like many other,

epidemics, it made its first appearance in the capital of the Western Presidency. The epidemic then spread rapidly all over India, first of all along the Great Trunk Railways till practically all parts of the country were affected. A second and a far more severe outbreak of the disease occurred in the autumn of the year and now practically even in the smallest village this dire disease is afflicting the people and exacting its toll.

But we have ample reasons to conclude that this fell disease has collected during the last six months a much heavier toll than Cholera, Malaria or even Plague within a similar period of time. One observer makes it 6 millions in 12 weeks, which works up to as much as 5 times the mortality of the war. For whereas Cholera and Plague are more prevalent in large cities than in villages and Malaria ordinarily affects the villages more than the towns, this disease affects urban and village population without distinction. The combination of several infections which aggravate the mortality in these attacks is practically unknown in other diseases.

HOW THE EPIDEMIC HAS AFFECTED THE PROFESSION.

No doubt the war required and readily obtained the willing and devoted service of a large number of medical men; but the epidemic taxed to the utmost degree the energies, attention and time of every medical man in India and yet thousands of sufferers have died without treatment. It has presented before us a reality which in its appalling magnitude overpowers not only our intellectual capacities but our imaginations as well. The circumstance, however, imposes upon us the immediate necessity of increasing our number. must have a larger recruiting activity and we must train a larger army of medical men.

We

Time and again we have been pressing upon the authorities the necessity of a wider extension of