o get
his medical education, three homeless babies fell into his hands. He and
his mother lived on a little less and made room for the children. Soon
more waifs drifted in. Mr. Hoda couldn't turn them away, but he wondered
where he was to get the food for them. Then he had a vision and a dream.
In it a great famine was sweeping the land. He saw a Man beautiful, but
sorrowful, toiling up a steep mountain, with His arms full of helpless
children and more clinging to His white garments. This wonderful Being
turned and saw the great pity in Mr. Hoda's eyes, then called back,
'Help me care for the many that are left. I will never forsake you nor
them.' After that, Mr. Hoda knew what his work was. He fought so hard to
follow his vision he burned all his doctor's books for fear he might be
tempted. He had gone hungry to buy those books. A long time after, Mr.
Hoda didn't care about them, for his vision brought him the
beautifulest faith. He knew food and clothing for the children would
come, and often there hasn't been a bite nor a penny in the house and
almost time for the dinner bell to ring, when from somewhere food or the
way to buy it, would come pouring in as though that Orphan Asylum was
built in a land filled with manna and flowing with honey. Mr. Hoda and
his flock of orphans have waited but never wanted. I'm waiting; but I am
just as sure of my dream as I am of my friends."

"Of course you are," encouraged Page. "Talk of removing mountains! Why,
a faith like that would set a whole Himalayan range to dancing. You are
a great little missionary, Miss Gray."

"Thank you, Mr. Page; missionaries are not great. We can't help living
what we believe. Wouldn't you be very happy if you were as certain and
sure of all your dreams as we are?"

"Happy!" cried the boy, getting up and walking about. "I'd give a
life-time to know--never mind. Your hospital will come true. When it
does we will ask the city to decorate as it is doing to-day for some big
festival. My! the streets look like bargain day in Christmas trees," he
ended, recovering some of his light spirits.

"That's so. There is a festival. What is it, Miss Jenkins?"

I explained the meaning of the festival, which was more strictly
observant of ritual and old customs than any other of the year, and I
told of Kishimoto San's invitation to me.

Miss Gray exclaimed anxiously, "But you are not going?" Jane was slow in
shaking off the limitations of the doctrine that brande