LIII[1]
WE think that your little table is the most beautiful of all the carved work that our Singo has done. A short while ago he was saved as though by a miracle, from a great calamity. Eleven houses near his own were burned to the ground. The cocoanut tree in his little garden was all ablaze, but by great good fortune his house remained uninjured. The whole village ran out to see the miracle and asked the lucky owner of the only remaining house, what "Ilmoe"[2] or "Djamat"[3] he had to protect him. For they thought, of course, that he had saved his house through some magic spell. No, he had no "Ilmoe" or "Djamat," nor magic spells, he had only "Goesti Allah" who had spared him for his own purposes. The day after the fire, the man came to us, and fancy! he thanked us for the preservation of his dwelling. He insisted that it was the power of our prayers for him that had kept his house from misfortune. Such naive and simple faith is touching.
I asked myself if it would be right to take away from these poor souls the simple faith that makes them happy. What could I give them in its stead? The stupidest person can tear down, but it is quite another matter to build up.
We have found so many charming qualities in our humble friends.
—252—
