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service, and their own dignity not to take it. Sufficient civility and respect would have been paid if any of them who happened to be near the road had touched their caps, and I really can suppose them actuated by no motive but good-will. It had not been excited, so far as I know, by any particular desert on my part: but I had always spoken to them civilly had paid some attention to their comforts in securing them tents, firewood, and camels for their knapsacks, and had ordered them a dinner, after their own fashion, on their arrival at Lucknow, at the expense of, I believe, not more than four rupees! Surely if good-will is to be bought by these sort of attentions, it is a pity that any body should neglect them."

"In crossing a nuddee, which from a ford had become a ferry, we saw some characteristic groups and occurrences; the price of passage in the boat was only a few cowries; but a number of country folk were assembled, who could not, or would not, pay, and were now sitting patiently by the brink, waiting till the torrent should subside, or, what was far less likely to happen, till the boatmen should take compassion on them, Many of these poor people came up to beg me to make the boatmen take them over, one woman pleading that her 'malik our bucher' (literally master, or lord, and young one) had run away from her, and she wanted to overtake them; another that she and her two grandchildren were following her son, who was a Havildar in the regiment which we had passed just before; and some others, that they had been intercepted the previous day by this torrent, and had neither money nor food till they had reached their homes. Four anas purchased a passage for the whole crowd, of perhaps thirty people, and they were really very thankful. I bestowed two anas more on the poor deserted woman, and a whimsical scene ensued. She at first took the money with eagerness, then, as if she recollected herself, she blushed very deeply, and seemed much confused, then bowed herself to my feet, and kissed my hands, and at last said, in a very modest tone, it was not fit for so great a man as I was, to give her two anas, and she hoped that I and the chota Sahib' (little lord) would give her a rupee each!' She was an extremely pretty little woman, but we were inexorable; partly, I believe, in my own case at least, because we had only just rupees enough to take us to Cawnpoor, and to pay for our men's provisions; however, I gave her two more anas, my sole remaining stock of small change."




These few traits will do, we believe; but we must add a few more, to let the reader fully into the noble humanity and genuine softness of this man's heart.

"In the course of this evening a fellow, who said he was a gao-wala brought me two poor little leverets, which he said he had just found in a field. They were quite unfit to eat, and bringing them was an act of cruelty of which there are few instances among the Hindoos, who are generally humane to wild animals. In this case, on my scolding the man for bringing such poor little things from their mother, all the crowd of camel-drivers and camp-followers, of whom no incon.



siderable number were around us, expressed great satisfaction and an entire concurrence in my censure. It ended in the man promising to take them back to the very spot (which he described) where he had picked them up, and in my promising him an ana if he did so. To see him keep his word two stout waggoner's boys immediately volunteered their services, and I have no doubt kept him to his contract.

"The same adviser wanted me to take off a joint of Câbul's tail, under the hair, so as not to injure his appearance. 'It was known,' he said, that by how much the tail was made shorter, so much the taller the horse grew.' I said, 'I could not believe that God gave any animal a limb too much, or one which tended to its disadvantage, and that as He had made my horse, so he should remain.' This speech, such as it was, seemed to chime in wonderfully with the feelings of most of my hearers; and one old man said, that during all the twenty-two years that the English held the country, he had not heard so grave and godly a saying from any of them before.' I thought of Sancho Panza and his wise apophthegms!


"Our elephants were receiving their drink at a well, and I gave the largest some bread, which, before my illness, I had often been in the habit of doing. He is glad to see you again,' observed the goomashta, and I certainly was much struck by the calm, clear, attentive, intelligent eye which he fixed on me, both while he was eating, and afterwards while I was patting his trunk and talking about him. He was, he said, a fine-tempered beast, but the two others were 'great rascals.' One of them had once almost killed his keeper. I have got these poor beasts' allowance increased, in consideration of their long march ; and that they may not be wronged, have ordered the mohout to give them all their gram in presence of a sentry. The gram is made up in cakes, about as large as the top of a hat-box, and baked on an earthen pot. Each contains a seer, and sixteen of them are considered as sufficient for one day's food for an elephant on a march. The suwarree elephant had only twelve, but I ordered him the full allowance, as well as an increase to the others. If they knew this they would indeed be glad to see me.”

"The morning was positively cold, and the whole scene, with the exercise of the march, the picturesque groups of men and animals round me the bracing air, the singing of birds, the light mist hanging on the trees, and the glistening dew, had something at once so Oriental and so English, I have seldom found any thing better adapted to raise a man's animal spirits, and put him in good temper with himself and all the world. How I wish those I love were with me! How much my wife would enjoy this sort of life, its exercise, its cleanliness, and purity; its constant occupation, and at the same time its comparative freedom from form, care, and vexation! At the same time a man who is curious in his eating had better not come here. Lamb and kid (and we get no other flesh) most people would soon tire of. The only fowls which are attainable are as tough and lean as can be desired; and the milk and butter are generally seasoned with the never-failing condiments of Hindostan, - smoke and soot. These, however, are matters to which it is not difficult to be


come reconciled; and all the more serious points of warmth, shade, cleanliness, air, and water, are at this season nowhere enjoyed better than in the spacious and well-contrived tents, the ample means of transport, the fine climate, and fertile regions of Northern Hindostan. Another time, by God's blessing, I will not be alone in this Eden; yet I confess that there are few people whom I greatly wish to have as associates in such a journey. It is only a wife or a friend so intimate as to be quite another self, whom one is really anxious to be with one while travelling through a new country."

Instead of wishing, as we should have expected a Bishop to do, to move in the dignified and conspicuous circle at the seat of Government, it is interesting to find this exemplary person actually languishing for a more retired and obscure situation.

"Do you know, dearest, that I sometimes think we should be more useful, and happier, if Cawnpoor or Benares, not Calcutta, were our home? My visitations would be made with far more convenience, the expense of house rent would be less to the Company, and our own expenses of living would be reduced very considerably. The air, even of Cawnpoor, is, I apprehend, better than that of Bengal, and that of Benares decidedly so. The greater part of my business with government may be done as well by letters as personal interviews; and, if the Archdeacon of Calcutta were resident there, it seems more natural that the Bishop of India should remain in the centre of his diocese. The only objection is the great number of Christians in Calcutta, and the consequent probability that my preaching is more useful there than it would be any where else. We may talk these points over when we meet."

One of the most characteristic passages in the book, is the account of his interview with the learned and very liberal Brahmin in Guzerât, whom he understood to teach a far purer morality than is usually enjoined by his brethren, and also to discountenance the distinction of castes, and to inculcate a signal toleration. We can now afford, however, to give little more than the introductory narrative.

"About eleven o'clock I had the expected visit from Swaamee Narain, to my interview with whom I had looked forward with an anxiety and eagerness which, if he had known it, would perhaps have flattered him. He came in a somewhat different style from what I expected; having with him nearly 200 horsemen, mostly well-armed with matchlocks and swords, and several of them with coats of mail and spears. Besides them he had a large rabble on foot, with bows and arrows; and when I considered that I had myself more than fifty horse, and fifty muskets and bayonets, I could not help smiling, though



my sensations were in some degree painful and humiliating, at the idea of two religious teachers meeting at the head of little armies ! and filling the city, which was the scene of their interview, with the rattling of quivers, the clash of shields, and the tramp of the warhorse. Had our troops been opposed to each other, mine, though less numerous, would have been doubtless far more effective, from the superiority of arms and discipline. But, in moral grandeur, what a difference was there between his troop and mine! Mine neither knew me nor cared for me. They escorted me faithfully, and would have defended me bravely, because they were ordered by their superiors to do so; and as they would have done for any other stranger of sufficient worldly rank to make such attendance usual. The guards of Swaamee Narain were his own disciples and enthusiastic admirers; men who had voluntarily repaired to hear his lessons, who now took a pride in doing him honour, and who would cheerfully fight to the last drop of blood rather than suffer a fringe of his garment to be handled roughly. In the parish of Hodnet there were once perhaps a few honest countrymen who felt something like this for me; but how long a time must elapse before any Christian teacher in India can hope to be thus loved and honoured!

"After the usual mutual compliments, I said that I had heard much good of him, and the good doctrine which he preached among the poor people of Guzerât, and that I greatly desired his acquaintance; that I regretted that I knew Hindostanee so imperfectly, but that I should be very glad, so far as my knowledge of the language allowed, and by the interpretation of friends, to learn what he believed on religious matters, and to tell him what I myself believed; and that if he would come and see me at Kairah, where we should have more leisure, I would have a tent pitched for him and treat him like a brother. I said this, because I was very earnestly desirous of getting him a copy of the Scriptures, of which I had none with me in the Nagree character, and persuading him to read them; and because I had some further hopes of inducing him to go with me to Bombay, where I hoped that, by conciliatory treatment, and the conversations to which I might introduce him with the Church Missionary Society established in that neighbourhood, I might do him more good than I could otherwise hope to do.

"I saw that both he, and, still more, his disciples, were highly pleased by the invitation which I gave him; but he said, in reply, that his life was one of very little leisure; that he had 5000 disciples now attending on his preaching in the neighbouring villages, and nearly 50,000 in different parts of Guzerât; that a great number of these were to assemble together in the course of next week, on occasion of his brother's son coming of age to receive the Brahminical string; but that if I staid long enough in the neighbourhood to allow him to get this engagement over, he would gladly come again to see me. In the mean time,' I said, have you any objection to communicate some part of your doctrine now? It was evidently what he came to do; and his disciples very visibly exulted in the opportunity of his perhaps converting me."



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The conference is too long to extract, but it is very curious; though the result fell something short of what the worthy Bishop, in the zeal of his benevolence, had anticipated. We should now leave the subject of the author's personal character; but it shines out so strongly in the account of the sudden death of one of his English friends and fellow-travellers, that we cannot refrain from gratifying our readers and ourselves with one other extract. Mr. Stowe, the individual alluded to, died after a short illness at Dacca. The day after his burial, the Bishop writes to his wife as follows:


Sincerely as I have mourned, and do mourn him continually, the moment perhaps at which I felt his loss most keenly was on my return to this house. I had always after airings, or other short absences, been accustomed to run up immediately to his room to ask about his medicines and his nourishment, to find if he had wanted any thing during my absence, and to tell him what I had seen and heard. And now, as I went up stairs, I felt most painfully that the object of my solicitude was gone, and that there was nobody now to derive comfort or help from my coming, or whose eyes would faintly sparkle as I opened the door.

"It will be long before I forget the guilelessness of his nature, the interest which he felt and expressed in all the beautiful and sequestered scenery which we passed through; his anxiety to be useful to me in any way which I could point out to him (he was indeed very useful), and above all, the unaffected pleasure which he took in discussing religious subjects; his diligence in studying the Bible, and the fearless humanity with which he examined the case, and administered to the wants, of nine poor Hindoos, the crew of a salt-barge, whom, as I mentioned in my Journal, we found lying sick together of a jungle fever, unable to leave the place where they lay, and unaided by the neighbouring villagers. I then little thought how soon he in his turn would require the aid he gave so cheerfully."

On the day after, he writes in these terms to Miss Stowe, the sister of his departed friend :—

"With a heavy heart, my dear Miss Stowe, I send you the enclosed keys. How to offer you consolation in your present grief, I know not; for by my own deep sense of the loss of an excellent friend, I know how much heavier must be your burden. Separation of one kind or another is, indeed, one of the most frequent trials to which affectionate hearts are exposed. And if you can only regard your brother as removed for his own advantage to a distant country, you will find, perhaps, some of that misery alleviated under which you are now suffering. Had you remained in England when he came out hither, you would have been, for a time, divided no less effectually than you

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