starts moving his arms . . ." the doctor gestured smiling in the air, "and these other people come running up to interpret." We asked if Baba had ever told him anything about his own (the doctor's) life. Dr. Burleson smiled: "Oh, he would have talked to you all day if you'd had time to listen! But I was usually too busy around the clinic. He did tell me once, though, that I would come to India some day. At that time it seemed impossible, I had a family to bring up, and responsibilities. Now my kids are grown and married . . ." That was all he said about this.

I mentioned having heard that he considered Baba "the perfect patient ". "They all were", he said, adding that no one in the party ever uttered a word of complaint: "They sure were wonderful people". He repeated this, slowly, the words seeming again, to come from deep down within him. He also mentioned that he still communicates with Mani, and received the Family Letters. He then offered to show us Baba's room, after which he would have to be off on his rounds. We walked down the hall together to room number seven (of course!) and looked inside only for a second, as it was occupied by a patient. Dr. Burleson also showed us the room, directly across the hall, that had been Mehera's (and was now, as I recall, an x-ray room). Nearby was a tiny maternity ward, with room for perhaps four or five babies in a little glassed-in section. One baby was sleeping there. "Yes, I delivered him yesterday", said Dr. Burleson, and give a big hello to the baby's mother, who was in another room. Then he was gone.

We all felt wonderful and just stood for awhile watching the baby. Somehow, in that baby, I felt an expression of the whole adventure and romance of God becoming a man; God visiting a little town on His earth; God suffering and dying to renew the world. Then the nurse came to see us, and we chatted for awhile. We mostly talked about the accident itself, for the nurse had been out to the scene in the ambulance, and could give us directions for getting there. It was on a hill about seven miles west of town, as Purdom had written. The nurse described a few landmarks we would pass on the way. The accident took place directly in front of a white farmhouse. Baba and the others who were thrown from the car landed in the driveway of the house. The house was still there, and the nurse thought that the same people still lived in it, "a Czechoslovak couple, a farmer and his wife" They would remember the accident. The nurse spoke of how terrible the accident was; she, too seemed to be reaching back to a vivid, dreadful memory. At one point, speaking of the site, she said, almost to herself, ". . . the ground is still so red up there . . ."

I was surprised by her readiness to help us with directions for finding the site of the accident. For some reason I didn't expect her to understand our wish to find the exact spot. But she did understand, and her eagerness to assist us impressed me deeply. She said she would have loved to come along herself and show us the way, but she couldn't leave work just then. We said we were sure to find the place with her directions, and thanked her and said good-bye.

Setting out from the clinic, we rode once more through town, and then out into the rolling, sunlit fields, till the meter registered that we'd gone about seven miles. Nearby was a white house, so we stopped and I got out and rang the bell. The young housewife who answered said that she had only recently moved there. No, she didn't know of any accident; "Good luck, though!" A short bit down the road there was another white house. Again, a young family, recently moved to the area. No luck. Had the old couple perhaps moved away? Could this be the place? I was surprised to find that I did not feel ill at ease knocking on these strangers' doors to inquire about an eighteen-years-past event, nor did they hesitate to open their doors to me, and think very seriously whether they might not know some information to help me. I felt a lot of warmth along that road. And now, as we looked ahead, we saw that the road went up an incline and at the top was a white