I received from time to time a number of letters from a young woman belonging to the Eurasian community in Ceylon, asking in great distress for news of her husband, whom she had not seen for seven years. It was a sad story, and the poor woman seemed almost to have lost her senses through grief. Differences had arisen between her husband and his relatives, after the marriage, and he had left home and gone to India, and afterwards to Burma, and had given way to drink. I found traces of him. The missionary of the Methodist Episcopal Church in Rangoon had known him as one of the intemperate characters loafing about the town, whom he had often tried to help, and raise out of the gutter. At last he had suddenly lost sight of him, and could not tell me what had become of him. Through the Superintendent of Police in Rangoon I found what appeared to be the last trace of this unfortunate man. The police records stated that a man, answering to his description, was found drowned one morning, in the lake near Rangoon, and he was supposed to have wandered there, either whilst helpless in liquor, or with the intention of ending his unhappy career. Which it was there was no evidence to show. It was never fully proved that this was the same man, but as he was nowhere to be found, it seemed very probable that it was he, and the poor soul had to content herself, as best she could, with this sad and uncertain information. A widow of the Eurasian community, whom I had been acquainted with during my residence in Ceylon, years before, wrote to ask if I could hear any tidings of her younger son, who at the time I knew him was a schoolboy, but by that time a young man. He had left home to seek employment, and had learnt the business of a mechanic, but, like too many, had ceased to write to his mother, who, of course, in the absence of any knowledge of him, feared the worst. What a cruel thing to leave a widowed mother in ignorance of his whereabouts! I made all possible inquiries, but with no result. He had not come to Mandalay.