One night, when the crescent moon faintly shone through the leaves of the peepul trees, Shiv Dás threw his charms into a well, after having, prostrate on the ground, asked forgiveness for having ever used them. He then returned to his home, and throwing himself on his charpai (bed), enjoyed sweeter rest than he had known for months. In the morning the doctor rose, went to his teacher the missionary, and asked to be admitted into the Christian Church. A few weeks later the water of baptism was poured on the convert's brow, and he who had begun a new life received a new name, Shiv Dás became Isa Dás. * * Signifying "Servant of Jesus," instead of "Servant of Shiva." At first the doctor appeared to be ruined. He was reviled in the streets, insulted in the bazaars, more than once he was beaten. It was not easy for him to gain pice enough to satisfy hunger; he had to make his own chapattis, and of the coarsest grain. Women declared that they would as soon let their children die as be cured by drugs polluted by the touch of the Christian. But gradually even their prejudices softened a little towards him. A time of great sickness came, and the people felt the need of a doctor. They remembered the many cures wrought by Isa Dás; they began to think that even without spells his drugs might give them relief from their pain. A case which occurred at this time had no small influence in turning the tide of opinion. A child, the favourite child of its Hindu mother, was smitten with sore sickness. An ignorant fakir was applied to, but notwithstanding all his charms and spells, his patient evidently grew worse and worse. "Have done with your mutterings; my darling is dying," cried the mother in desperation at last. "Shiv Dás, or whatever he chooses now to be called, saved my boy's life once, and I will ask him to save it again, were every Brahmin in Hindustan to curse me!" The mother took up in her arms the poor moaning child, whose every gasp seemed likely to be his last. She folded her chaddar closely around him, and with hurried steps sought the mud hut which was now the Christian doctor's abode. "Can you save him?" she cried, laying her almost expiring child at the feet of Isa Dás. "God can," was the Christian's reply. "Have you no charm?" sobbed the trembling mother. "My only charm is asking God's blessing on my medicines," replied Isa Dás. Very earnestly did the Christian ask that blessing. Not only from pity for the mother and her suffering child, but because he saw that on his success or failure in this difficult case not only the little one's life, but (humanly speaking) his own future livelihood might depend. Isa Dás mixed his drugs; he gave them with humble prayer, and with faith committed the result to God. After a while the child's moanings gave place to perfect stillness. "He is dead!" exclaimed the trembling mother. Isa Dás smiling said, "Thank God! He has dropped asleep at last!"