claim to no great erudition or high position
among the learned of the earth. In matters
temporal he seems to be on a level with his
juvenile scholars, some twenty half naked brats
of from four to eight years old, who, seated in
a semicircle round him, are taking their first,
and apparently most nauseous, sip of the
Pierian spring. The schoolmaster rises, and
greets his patron with a grateful smile and a
respectful obeisance.

"Well, and how are your scholars getting
on?" asks the magistrate.

"As well as they can, poor little fellows,"
replies the dominie, turning with a pleasant
smile to his class of little urchins, whose chubby
faces immediately reflect their master's good
humour.

"Will you let them repeat the alphabet,
moonshee? My friend here wishes to hear
them."

The schoolmaster turns to his scholars,
elongates his face, and, opening his mouth until
all his other features seem to disappear in the
capacious cavity, eliminates therefrom a loud
"ar;" a cry which his young pupils take up
with equal gusto, if not with equal
impressiveness. So they go through the whole
alphabet, chanting in chorus every letter.
This method of attaining a knowledge of the
elements of learning has been handed down to
the present time from the earliest ages of the
country.

But the course of instruction pursued at the
government school—which, as its name
implies, is under the patronage and protection of
the Indian Viceroyalty—soars higher. The
branches of education taught, or attempted to
be taught, are those in common use throughout
the academies of England, divinity
excepted; but an English child ten years old will
show a more appreciative understanding of
every subject than any of the students at our
government academy. These latter will, indeed,
if required, write you out, from memory, a
problem of Euclid, or translate you a portion
of Delectus; but the former production will be
a mere hotch-potch of mathematical terms,
unconnected by any shade of reasoning, and the
latter will be a mass of nonsense, bearing no
likeness whatever to the original.

The school-house, which, after leaving the
village academy, we next visit, is a long low-
roofed building, announcing itself by a large
board placed above the coping of the roof, on
which are painted the words, "Anglo-Vernacular
Academy." It is pleasantly situated
in its own grounds, the trees planted in which
effectually shut out from the ardent students
the disturbing sights and sounds of the work-
a-day world. The pupils are a sickly-looking
race, wearing on their bodies a great amount
of clean white muslin, and on their faces very
vacant, curious, or impertinent expressions.

Young Bengal is at best but a sickly,
forced plant—a child whose limbs are still
cramped with the weight of the chains of
ignorance and superstition, which have so recently
fallen from them, and whose intellect, having
at length discovered that its old beliefs are
mere fables, is still dazed and dizzy with the
overwhelming light of new truth. It has a
certain precocity and adaptiveness to the state
of things introduced by the English, which
enables it to bear smoothly and with unruffled
temper the yoke to which it has become
subjected, and it has, too, a dreamy acquiescence
in the new and advanced teachings of its rulers;
but the precocity is the forwardness of a rude
and inquisitive child, and the adaptability and
the acquiescence are the result of a dull,
mercury-engendered, opium-nurtured apathy.
True progress has scarcely dawned as yet on
the Bengalee mind; the sleep of foolish ages
has scarcely been wiped from its eyes; but still
the mind, though ignorant, is there, and in
every urchin of the plains lie the germs of a
shrewd and mighty nation.

The magistrate next attends a meeting. It
is held in the schoolroom, and its object is
to consider the means best to be employed to
relieve the distress inflicted by the famine which
is ravaging his district. My companion, offering
me a seat by his side, takes the place
reserved for him at the head of the table, around
which are already seated our missionary and
our police superintendent, besides many other
local authorities and native gentlemen. While
waiting for the arrival of still other influential
persons, the magistrate exchanges salutations
and courtesies with the assembled Europeans
and natives. Many of the native gentlemen
are arrayed in garments of costly and
striking appearance, ornamented with gold
and silver, and of exquisite pattern and
workmanship; one gentleman has brought two of
his little children with him: they are even
more exquisitely dressed than their father,
and look on at the proceedings with all
the wondering gravity of childhood. They
are both very pretty; their features are
exquisitely shaped; and their large dark eyes,
beaming with happiness and excitement, pale
the duskiness of their skins, and make them
almost fair by comparison. When every one
has arrived, the proceedings, which are
conducted in Bengalee, are opened by the
magistrate, who, in a sensible and suitable speech,
invites the attention and advice of his friends
in connexion with the subject which has
brought them together. A subscription is
proposed by another native gentleman (the
Europeans present being unable or unwilling
to address the meeting) and a subscription-list
is soon opened, and with every assurance of
success.

Though a married man, the magistrate never
appears in society with his wife; she, in
accordance with the religion of her forefathers,
passes her life in the seclusion of her chamber.
His children, however, are being brought up
under better auspices; for the magistrate's
sons and daughters are being prepared by
education and admixture with society, to take a
more fitting position in the ranks of their
fellow-creatures. Uninfluenced by prejudice,
and completely free from the yoke of the