ONE evening, about the hour of sunset, the doctor, Isa Dás, was called in haste from his devotions to see Natthu the oilman, who was, it was said, dying of raging fever. Isa Dás hurried to the house. The entrance was through a small yard, in which a black buffalo and her calf were tied. Through the doorway Isa Dás passed into the dwelling, the lower part of which was occupied by the oil-mill; but the patient buffalo who usually turned the creaking wheel was no longer going his wearisome round. The place looked the receptacle for dirt, and every species of rubbish. Isa Dás had never before penetrated beyond this room, but now a group of dirty children were ready to show him the way up to his patient. The narrow staircase was steep and utterly dark; Isa Dás had to feel his way, and take care that he stumbled not on a broken step. To a European newly arrived, such a dwelling might give an idea of extreme poverty, but to the zenana visitor it would appear but a common specimen of the houses of those who live by the work of their hands. Had Isa Dás had no one to show him the way, he would have been sufficiently guided by the hubbub of voices from the apartment above. The Christian soon found himself in a room about twelve feet square. This room was literally crammed with people, men, women, and half-naked children. * All pressed forward, jostling one another, to watch the struggles of a frantic sufferer on a charpai covered with a mass of dirty rags, which gave forth a sickening odour. It was scarcely possible to breathe in that crowded place; the crowd shut out every breath of air from the sufferer, and their loud voices mingled with his cries. * The oilman's bibi wee evidently not a purdah woman, or none of the male sex, except near relations, would have been admitted. The doctor saw in a moment that, if this state of things continued, the patient had not a chance of life. Natthu was gasping for breath, his eyes almost starting out of his head, while he seemed, with his outstretched hands, to be trying to keep something back, which no one could see but himself. "Back—back—all of you!" cried the doctor in a tone of authority. "Except the bibi, not one must remain in this room. I will not so much as attempt a cure unless the place be cleared!" But it was no easy matter to clear the place. One dirty girl in particular, who was carrying a wretched baby whose eyes were covered with flies and whose head with sores, seemed to think it her right as well as her pleasure to stand and stare. It was at least five minutes before Isa Dás could clear the room of all but the patient and his wife. He could hear people mutter, as they groped their way down the stairs, that this strange new way of treating the sick all came from Isa Dás being a Christian. "Now, away with these rags, and bring water!" cried the doctor. "Have you brought medicines with you?" asked the wife.