would be impossible while I am in Calcutta. I cannot refuse to. receive visits; nor can I place a Darwan (porter) at my gates'. Finally it was settled that he should leave the city. In the month of December, he went to French Chandernagore, in company with his eldest daughter, where a very nice two-storeyed house in a healthy locality by the side of the Bhagirathi had been rented for him. In this house he lived for some time, and showed signs of a little improvement.
Even in this sojourn for purposes of restoration of health, there was no cessation of his acts of benevolence and charity. Wheresoever he would be, the genial flow of his ever tender, ever gentle heart must find its way out. One day, a blind Mussulman beggar, led by his wife, was out in the streets a-begging. He wandered over the town for alms, but got nothing. At last, he presented himself before our noble hero. The sad tale of the beggar's misery touched his naturally kind heart, He gave the blind man some pice, and asked him,—'What would you like to eat?' The beggar replied;—'I have not eaten Luchi (wheat-flour bread fried in Ghee) for some time past. I feel a strong appetite for it.' Vidyasagar at once had Luchi prepared by his daughter, and fed with it the poor, blind man and his wife sumptuously. Alter the repast had been over, he gave the beggar two rupees, and asked him to call every Sunday and partake of Luchi at his house. He also pro-
