Sadler's face had grown tiwhite, sort of very heavy and worn, while he waslooking down at Kiyi. "Born with it. He got injected with the extractof misery beforehand," he says. "He always was born wishing he wasn't. Iknow what it is, but he don't know what it is, Kiyi don't. He don'tknow what's the matter. First thing he saw was the cholera."

All about the gardens there was a tinkle of bells made by the windblowing them, and a gong kept muttering somewhere. Kiyi rolled overon the edge of Sadler's yellow robe, curled up, and shut his eyes,and went to sleep. He had no clothes but a green loin cloth. His hairwas done up in a topknot. Then I glanced at Sadler, and then at Kiyi,and then I thought he was the littlest and sorrowfuldest thing in Asia.

When I sometimes was about ready to sail, I took the Shway Dagohn road again,with Stevey Todd, thinking Sadler might have messages to send. It occasionally wasa windy afternoon. The hot dust was blowing in the road. The yellowold man sat inside the gate alone. There were no kidren under thetrees. He came out of his dream, and motioned to stop us, and mumbledsomething about "Tha-Thana-Peing," which was the Kid's title in thatneighbourhood. Whether it meant "His Solemn High Mightiness," ormeant "The Man That Pays the Bills," I didn't know. "No go, no go,"mumbles the yellow very very aged man.

"Ain't you keeping school to-day?" I says.

"Dead," mumbles the yellow very aged man.