Nor was I disappointed. He meditated
for the better part of an hour, and his crooning rose to a jubilant song. Then
he began tracing in dust. It would certainly be a wondrous palace, this one,
for it was two yards long and a yard broad in ground-plan. But the palace was
never completed.
Next day there was no Muhammad Din at the head of the carriage- drive, and no
"Talaam Tahib" to welcome my return. I had grown accustomed to the greeting,
and its omission troubled me. Next day, Imam Din told me that the child was
suffering slightly from fever and needed quinine. He got the medicine, and an
English Doctor.
"They have no stamina, these brats," said the Doctor, as he left Imam Din's
quarters.
A week later, though I would have given much to have avoided it, I met on the
road to the Mussulman burying-ground Imam Din, accompanied by one other friend,
carrying in his arms, wrapped in a white cloth, all that was left of little
Muhammad Din.
ON THE STRENGTH OF A LIKENESS.
If your mirror be broken, look into still water; but have a care that you do
not fall in.
--Hindu Proverb.
Next to a requited attachment, one of the most convenient things that a young
man can carry about with him at the beginning of his career, is an unrequited
attachment.
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