I was walking up towards the mission hospital, when what should I see coming down the steps but a roller bandage, walking along as happy as could be, and after exchanging the usual Arab greeting of “Salaam,” he told me this story: “I suppose you have never heard of me before, and I am sure you never will unless I introduce myself and unroll the story of my short but interesting life. “A little, round, fat body like me may have a long story to tell; for when I lie at full length I measure four yards without stretching the truth one bit. “It is only six months ago, as far as I remember, that I was part of a fine new piece of white muslin in the store window of a merchant, and had no name or place or mission of my own in this big world. One day the salesman reached out and took the piece of muslin down. It was sent with a lot of other purchases to the home of a lady (I think her name was Phœbe or Dorcas) greatly interested in foreign missions. “The next thing I knew, the willing hands and deft fingers of a band of little folks tore me from my seven sisters and rolled me up so snug and tight that none would imagine I was only a strip of cloth. And then, when a bright new pin was stuck on my breast, really I began to feel quite important. The following day I was put into a pasteboard box with three dozen other roller bandages, and I remember hearing a short prayer, just as they tied down the cover, that God would bless us on our errand of mercy to dark Arabia. [Illustration] “Time would fail me to tell of the days we spent in the basement of the building of the Board of Foreign Missions, waiting to be put in our corner of a big box, and of all the interesting things I learned from those who spoke about the heathen and Mohammedans while they were packing supplies for the various mission fields. You know I never knew there were so many doctors and nurses, and so many hospitals and dispensaries—not to speak of schools and other things under the care of our Board. “Finally, the box that was to be my prison house for two long months was tumbled into a dray and taken to the North River pier. There they lifted us into the dark hold of a ship; the sailors fastened down the hatches; the whistle blew, and we were off for the long voyage. “Being a roller bandage from my earliest youth, I did not at all mind the motion of the vessel; but some of the dolls and picture cards were all upset. “When we reached Bombay we were transferred with a great deal of unnecessary noise to another ship bound for the Persian Gulf. I remember that I was curious to know at which port of the Gulf I would disembark. One of the biggest roller bandages said _he_ knew, for he had heard the New York lady tell the children that these bandages were for the Mason Memorial Hospital at Bahrein, Arabia. All were not agreed.