according to the fancy of the native physician. The aid of an English doctor was called in, but Ûmat was too thoroughly a Malay to place much trust in the simple and untheatrical prescriptions provided for him, and though his blindness was relieved, and he became able to walk without the aid of a staff, his eyesight could never be wholly restored to him.
But Ûmat was of a sanguine temperament, and even when his blindness had continued for years, and each new remedy had proved to be merely one more disappointment, he clung unshakenly to the belief that in time the light would return to him. Meanwhile, his life held much enjoyment. All through the day his laugh used to ring out, and at night-time the compound would resound to the songs he loved to improvise which had for their theme the marvellous doings of "mat, the blind man, whose eyes cannot see." His patience had come to the rescue, and the sorrow of his blindness, accompanied as it was with a sufficient wage and no great measure of physical exertion, was a chastened grief which he bore with little complaining. He had aged some- what, for the loss of sight made his face look graver, heavier, duller than of old, but his heart remained as young as ever.
And good things have not held quite aloof from him. One day, as I sat writing, Uniat erupted into the room, and presently the whole house resounded with the news that he expected shortly to become a father. The expression of his face was a queer medley of delight, excitement, and pride, blent with
