He went on to tell how he startled his father, one day, by the information that a colony of minahs (the Indian starling) had found a snake in a flower-bed, which was true, though none could guess how the child knew it; and he made me shake with merriment as he described the antics of a monkey, whose chattering rage he did succeed in burlesquing with some degree of realism. But these are not serious contributions to science, and I am truly endeavoring to help forward my fellow-men along the path which Morse, Edison, Marconi, and many another earnest worker, each in a separate sphere, yet each striving for the same goal, have indicated to a world not yet ready to advance. I pass, therefore, to the first recorded use of his sixth sense. In all probability there were minor instances, which were unnoticed either by his parents or by the child himself. This one could not be gainsaid. It verified itself most dramatically. Karl’s peculiar gift of understanding the crude languages of nomads--he lost the hidden key long before any one thought of testing him with Homeric verse or the polished periods of Cicero--enabled him to converse with the unkempt Nepalese and wilder Tibetans who occasionally visited the station in the guise of petty traders. He was six years old when the famous Hutchinson Raid took place. Already he had learnt to read, but, luckily, his parents, being wise folk, determined that such a precocious child must not be encouraged in his studies, else the growth of method in that wondrous little brain must already have dimmed his comprehension of primeval speech. The Griers’ tea-garden, with its fine bungalow and spacious coolie quarters, was an old estate. It stood on the outskirts of the scattered houses which comprised the station. In a neighboring valley, two miles away, a London company had established a huge garden, employing nearly three thousand coolies, and the manager was a Mr. Frank Hutchinson. One day, at the beginning of the hot weather, Hutchinson drove to the local bank, and obtained a very considerable sum of money, some twenty odd thousand rupees, to pay the monthly wages. Being a “brither Scot,” he called on the Griers, left his wife there for a gossip, and his little daughter, Maggie, for a romp with Karl. The three set out towards home in time for dinner, and Karl was, naturally, very reluctant to part from his little playmate. She, too, nearly wept, so he consoled her by saying:-- “Don’t cwy, Maggie”--for he had a slight lisp--“Mamsie says we are coming to see you soon, and _I’ll think of you until Nanna_ (the French nurse) _puts me to bed_.”