narrowly down the deck to where Dalton was talking earnestly with one of the women passengers. 'Look now . . . one cannot imagine Dalton so pouring out his soul to a stranger, for the lad was always shut within himself with a double water-tight bulkhead!'

"'He told me this morning,' said I, 'that the passengers were taking up a collection for him.'

" 'Did he, now? . . . but there! . . . why not for a poor fellow with a wife and children, struck blind in the performance of his duty? Only . . . only . . .'

" 'Only it is not like Dalton,' said I, harshly.

"'No, Doctor. Belike it is the humbleness of soul which comes to those whom the Lord deeply chastens, . . . and it is a balm, Doctor, . . . a balm. . . .'

"When the ship reached Singapore I offered to conduct Dalton to his home. It was a sweet spot on one of the charming little islands a short row from the mainland; a bun-