Life in an outport is always quiet and generally dull, To meet the same people time after time ut dinner and to converse in the narrow groove of local topics-are neither pleasure nor entertainment. Some. times a nian more restless than his fellows rebels against the restraint and clamour for short leave. To the unfortunate all things come. And so he disappears for a while, to return bronzed and happy wi stock of small adventures sufficient to overshadow local small talk until a fresh incident or now arrival diverts public attention.
My friend Bradshaw was living small southern Treaty Port last year, and one night as we were dining together at the same house he told me of something which had befallen him on an up-country Piero was no more contented nor more cheerful man than Bradshaw as he trudged along with dog and gun over the hills, fifty miles beyond his Treaty Port. At his feet flowed the smiling river winding between fern-clad hills, The gleaming waters were dotted with the quaint brown -sails of innumerable and deeply-laden—' paper" bouts. The long tramp over the hills had been tut an enjoyable ramble thanks to that. best of companions, the shot-gun. A companion that never bores yon with his chat er and is ever ready to fall in with ang mood. Does a brown partridge or a whirring cock-pheasant flash before your eyes? Your trusty friend will bring him down if you will only do your duty and hold straight.
Whistling merrily as he owght sight of his houseboat moored by the river side, Bradshaw hurried on to seek its welcome shelter feom the blazing tropical sun. He saw a little Chinese girl sitting on the bank near his boat and quietly crying with her face hidden in her hands. Now the ordinary native small child knows neither shame nor decency in its sorrow, but pours rth howls of grief and invective while sy_tears trickle obtrusively down its grimy face.
"Por little girl thought B.
As his footsteps roused the child she looked up and he recoiled in amazement.
'A Chinese child with grey eyes? Impossible!
Bradshaw rubbed his eyes and stared at the sobbing child. The grey eyes were unmistakable in spite of the tears which were streaming down the sad little face.
"What child is that?" he called out to his boy who was standing on the deck of the boat placidly regarding his master.
cannot say. She says 'a foreign woman is sick and wants some medicine.'"
Foreign woman sick rejoined Bradshaw, there are none about here, except perhaps missionaries Ask her if it is a missionary who is sick."
The boy spoke a few words and the child stopped sobbing to stare at Bradshaw, but said nothing. "Perhaps she doesn't understand you—let 1 But then the little girl with her eyes still fixed on Bradshaw said something in a low tone.
"She wants you to go with her," sail the boy, but think master had better not "Who gave you leave to think?" re. torted the master jumping on the boa Get me some breakfast and e child something to eat while she waits.
The child, however, would not come: on the boat and stoud'shily on the bank. Bradshaw hastily finished his meal and taking his gun and some quinine, his only medicine, bate the little girl show him the way.
Just ask her first, boy, how far off her other—I suppose it is her mother—lives."
About three hours' walk," he replied.
All right, you come along too;" and master and servant followed their little guide.
The path led along the wooded bank of a little creek whose clear waters lay unruffed in th- sunshine save for the dimples of rising fish or the occasional, splash of a grey-winged kingfisher. An how's walk Tes them to a large village. A number of the villagers were standing about and talking among themselves. Ax soon as they caught sight of Bradshaw they all pointed at him and talked away more thin ever.
"What do they say he asked the hoy. "They say that you are going to see the foreign woman."
Bradshaw pondered over the mystery but could make nothing of it. They were soon ascending, however, a steep hill whose rocky sides full of loose stones call d for all his attention. Another range of hills, and they descended into a clearing occupied by another large village. The guide signed to Bradshaw that they were nearing their journey's -nd, and he began to wonder again whut was to be the end of it all.
A crowd of natives opened for them to and the little girl ran on until she reached a small lane hard by, when she turned and beckoned to the "ther two. Bradshaw followed her and found himself outside the enter we of a nat it screen of tall reeds facing the gateway served alike to want off evil spirits and secure " measure of privacy. In the enclosure outside the house itself were three Chinese women. ye eldest was smoking and the other two were boiling rice over an open-air Gre of dry branches, The vid woman nodded her head and mumbled something.
"She asks you to go in and see snmeone," interpreted the boy.
Bradshaw stooped and entered the com-fortiess-looking house. A man was standing in the contre room looking at something on the hard mud floor. He cast a hasty glance at the visitor and went out.
The something on the hard mud floor was a sick woman wrapped in a tattered blanket. The woman had the child's eyes and her face- wore the same expression, except that what was pathetic in the child seemed to be hardened sorrow in the woman, Bradshaw knelt down and taking her hand looked questioningly ut her.
"Tam dying," she whispered hoarsely, in English; "1 heard that an Englishman was tiearand sent for you."
She paused " moment, and then with a smile which was a mockery to soo she added "Did I trouble you?"
Bradshaw's amazement had all vanished. He thought nothing of the glaring improbability of a white woman living amid these squalid surroundings in this far-off and secluded village.
'The woman's hand was burning with wer. Bradshaw. spied a teapot and a racked teacup by her site. Mixing a little quinine with some tea, he put the cup to her lips. She drank' the mixture eagerly but looked hopelessly at him "Tt use. I feel finished and do not want goon living." Bradshaw took an orange from his pocket, one of two he had put in ut breakfast to give the little girl, and rolling it between his hands until it had bec ft remade a' small hole in it and pressed juice between the woman's parched lip. She looked up gratefully at him and the tears ran down her hollow cheeks, she murmured. replied Bradshaw sturdily, although his heart sank within him; "you shall be moved to my boat by-and-by.""
Vhe woman tried to smile back at him and feebly pressed his hand. The little girl was by her mother's side with her sud little face buried in the blanket, while her mother tried to shield the little form with one trembling arm, The hot sunshine poured in, the two women outside went. on chattering and cook g rice, and a faint murmur of voices came in from the village.
Bradshaw -gently fanned the dying woman as he held one fevered hand and listened to the sad mistake of her hopeless ife.
"There are others," were her last words.
Phon she sighed gently and so died. Top.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.