was not easy in mind. He heckled him for the cause in his sweet, sympathetic way till the man mumbled out what he needed. At once came the angelic assurance that there was no need to lose peace of mind over the matter and in ten minutes time four hundred rupees in currency note were thrust into his pocket by his son in the secrecy of an adjoining chamber. How many others might have been benefited in the same secret fashion the grateful hearts may know, but it can be truly said of the poet that his left hand never knew the benefactions his right hand gave. I am told this visitor paid back the loan in time. One other incident comes uppermost to my mind at the present moment. I had been to Malda side on a private affair of mine. On my return journey I reached Bolpur early morning at about 3–30 A. M. I could not resist the temptation of seeing my old place and the tutelary deity thereof. I broke my journey and walked up to Santiniketan. It was still dark. I treaded my way to the small doublestoried attic in which the poet lived in those days. I had noiseless shoes on. I looked in at the lower storey. The doors and windows were all open but the poet was not there. So I went >இர
