188 ESSAYS IN NATIONAL IDEALISM.

players of the ta>us or sarangi or vina, or singers. Some
•evening in a Northern town, such an one passes by your
•door. You press him eagerly .to lodge with you ; if he
will, to play for you ; and he consents. You invite a few
friends, and seated on the floor in an upper room, prepare
to listen. A brass lamp burns by your side, and all is still.
The player chooses an even simpler theme than the last,—
u These many days I have not seen thee." He sings and
plays, and varies infinitely the expression of this one idea.
He becomes almost a part of his instrument, and it and
the sound of him. You lose consciousness of things exter-
nal, and forget to move the wick, which burns dimly and
more dimly still. As he plays on—" These many days I
"have not seen thee," this passionate cry materialises before
jour eyes as a dancing figure, it may be as the Lord
Krishna Himself, it may be as Radha, it may be in the
form of one beloved on earth, whomsoever your thoughts
^ire set upon, and to whom your love is given. You forget
-all else, and see only this rhythmic sweet appearance. At
last the player ceases, leaving you silent and breathless,
-and the vision is gone like a dream. What did you see ?
You ask of one another, and you find that each saw before
him his own thought, the one he loved best, and for whom
in his heart was lamentation made,—"These many days I
have not seen thee."

Perhaps you are in the South. You have gone to a
musical party, a wedding at the house of a friend, you are
seated with many others on the cotton carpet, and before
you is a band of drummers, oboists and players of the vina
•and taanbitri. A Brahman drums on an earthen pot. A
slender girl of fifteen years sits demurely on the floor,
•dressed in silk brocade and golden chains, her feet and
;arms bare, and flowers in her hair. Her mother is seated