At Shelidah, Tagore came into intimate touch with the people of the lower strata of society. In this, as in countless features of his poetry, he resembles Shelley. Both were aristocrats by birth, but both never accepted their inheritance of social dominance. Chinnapatra or Torn Letters, a charming correspondence, gives a close picture of those languorously wide-awake years, with their restful busyness. In them we can trace the origin of many, if not most, of his short stories; in them is many a beautiful sketch of life or landscape. These Letters disclose Tagore’s ever-stirring sympathy with the poor. Towards them his attitude is never tinged with derision or contempt, while he rarely presents the more pretentious society of his land without a touch of bitterness or scorn. Something of his pity and love for children is called out by the helplessness and simplicity of the Indian farmers who cultivate their fields and then look up for rain, and suffer if rain does not come. Against this background of the broad, laden river, of humble lives, of stretching, solitary spaces, we see the lordliest and most fastidious mind in India, watching with immeasurable kindliness. His own loneliness is brought out in the Letters, with unelaborate and sometimes startling lucidity. Chinnapatra contains many passages of the best prose that he ever wrote.