1861.]

imparted in the Elphinstone College. For a while it was imagined by the ecclesiastically disposed part of the English, that the Government education was a great failure, productive only of pedantry and conceit. The young men had gained knowledge which they did not know where and how to use. But in 1848, two Englishmen, the late Professor Patton and Mr. R. T. Reid, a barrister, suggested to them to form a literary society for reading essays and discussion, excluding controversies of religion or passing politics. In the first year forty-six students were enrolled; but within three months branches were organized for diffusing knowledge among the uneducated, by lectures and by periodical publications in vernacular tongues, or by public recitation of pieces of refined poetry. Their essays elicit discussion, and are often printed, as are many tracts. Essays early delivered on Teaching (by Dadabhai Naoroji, now Professor of Gujarati in University College, London), and on Female Education (by Behramji Khurshedji), gave a great and enthusiastic impetus to the Society. Schools were soon organized with the help of Professor Patton. Great liberality was elicited from four Parsec gentlemen. School books for girls were prepared, and so early as June, 1851, a Gujarati Hindoo girls' school was actually opened. Grown-up women, by visiting the school, became convinced of its value; and so rapid has been the progress, that Professor Dadabhai, in a lecture on Parsee Manners lately delivered at Liverpool, avows, that although the struggle is intense, and almost bitter, between the old Parsees, who cling to routine and ignorance, in the belief that it keeps them from English immorality and the new school, which would discard all that is irrational and revolting, and every evil practice borrowed from the Hindoos; still, in one point the triumph of the new school is complete. It is now conceded by all, that women ought to be educated, and become mentally co-ordinate with their husbands. Hitherto there VOL. LXIV. NO. CCCLXXXIV.

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has been naturally a want of female teachers. Nevertheless, Mr. Dadabhai is confident that in another generation the entire Parsee community will have outgrown its weaknesses, and, both in manners and in education, will be undistinguishable from cultivated European nations. The results brought about in so very few years by the stimulus and direction of only two Englishmen (who acted with, not against the native element), is most instructive and encouraging. It is interesting to read their acknowledgment of the service done them by Messrs. Chambers, Edinburgh, and Messrs. Parker, West Strand, London,' in supplying them with stereotype engravings useful in the school-books. The subjects of the essays publicly delivered, are even more multifarious than those at a Manchester or Leeds Athenæum. From them we pick out as examples: "The Poets of India,' 'The Art of Electro-gilding,' 'The Disadvantages of Luxury,' 'Premature Marriage, The Re-marriage of Hindoo Widows,' 'Gambling,' 'Use of Intoxicating Drugs,' 'Evil Consequences of Adultery and Licentiousness,' 'Female Ornaments.'

The Brahmo Sumaj (which we believe means the Theistic or Monotheistic community) is of somewhat older date, as its founder, Rammohun Roy, is deceased more than a quarter of a century. But it has of late roused itself into new energy, and seems to be taking a step in advance of its founder. He left the question of caste among things indifferent, to be decided by the conscience of the individual; but from experience of its great mischievousness, the ardent minds of the present generation are assuming direct hostility to it. We read with much interest in the first number of the Indian Mirror (which is published by the energy and under the auspices of this community), that on July 26th last, the second daughter of Baboo Debender Nath Tagore (one of their leading men, we understand) was married without any of the idolatrous and superstitious rites of Hindooism, with such solemn religious 3 A

forms as Christians and Jews approve. The same gentleman is represented in the Hurkaru as an active and successful preacher. The writer (who assumes the tone of an opponent) says, that in opening a new school, Baboo Debender Nath Tagore'delivered the preparatory lecture with all the zeal and energy of an enthusiast, and was heard with almost breathless attention.' We venture here to extract part of a private letter recently written to England by a member of their church, which describes the progress hitherto made. Whether the enthusiasm of the writer has over-painted, we have no means of deciding; but the tone of the letter will be of itself an astonishing phenomenon to those who have been accustomed to believe that dark races are abandoned by the Spirit of God. He writes:

The education here imparted is too mechanical. While it crams the mind with mere ideas and facts, it leaves the higher faculties and sentiments uncultivated. . . . It destroys faith in the absurdities of Hindooism, but does not impress upon the mind a positive idea of the true and good. . . . While tens of thousands are weltering in the mire of gross superstitions, the majority of those who do receive education, ... far from setting examples of godliness in life, conduct themselves as doubters, mockers, or hypocrites. Amid so manifold evils Bengal has only one hope, even Brahmoism; that vital faith in the doctrines of love to God, and love to Man. We account it a display of God's loving kindness, that he has looked graciously on this wretched land, and vouchsafed to many the protection of that holy church. The salutary effects of the labours of our church are already manifest. It has kept many young men from falling into the vortex of scepticism, and the vices of intemperance, &c., prevalent here, and by establishing in their minds a steady religious principle, has enabled them to blend moral with mental improvement. It has helped the formation of many prayer societies, and encouraged the free investigation of theology in various quarters. It has established a Sunday-school for weekly lectures on doctrinal and practical Brahmoism, and a number of small friendly associations for the reformation of character, and the cultivation of

brotherly feelings. It has also, though to a small extent, through the simple agency of instructions by brother teachers and husband teachers, brought education to the females. With regard to social reformation, it has recently initiated a movement for the breaking up of all connexions, direct and indirect, on the part of its followers, with the hurtful social institutions of heathenism, such as caste, early [premature] marriage, &c.

It is not requisite to say that we think - for we know, that the Brahmo Somaj is_panting for English sympathy. Exposed to a most unequal battle, as a handful of men against millions, with whom is the inertia of old custom and great power of social persecution, a very small indication of sympathy from England is to them very valu able. So small a body, which counts its numbers by hundreds only, must soon find its funds exhausted, as also its resources in books and in variety of cultivation. But where there is much zeal, a little aid in suggestion, in money, and in books, joined with the stimulus of sympathy, might add great impetus to their action. Hitherto the difficulty presented has been a want of natives active and zealous to instruct. Now the supply seems to have risen as it were of itself. The Missionary Societies do not know how to use and direct the energies of these men, but, we fear, treat them as enemies. Is not this a critical opportunity, which ought not to be let slip, for pouring the tide of instruction from Bombay and Calcutta over all parts of India? Both classes are eminently loyal to England; both have a fundamentally religious spirit. We are not called on to impart to them religious aid (as to which we might ourselves fall into controversy), but to supply means for the purely intellectual or (as it is called) secular movement. Many of us have feared evil results from intellectual teaching unaccompanied with religious sentiment; many, again, have feared that knowledge may only make the Hindoos our more dangerous enemies. What then is a happier coincidence, than to find

roughly wearied and disposed for sleep than on the evening which bestowed four people so happily, which witnessed the total breaking up of John Gordon's habitual reserve, the subjection of Lady Gertrude's pride, and the hearty selfsatisfaction of the good-natured peer who was to make Bella Jones a viscountess. They slept light, the four, I doubt not, or lay awake looking far into the rosy future, peopled with its shining visions of love, and faith, and confidence, and all that makes life worth having. What need had they of dreams– those glowing hearts, steeped in their sober certainty of waking bliss? Not for such doth judicious Proserpine think it worth while to unclose the Ivory Gate, and despatch her shadowy doves to flit around the sleeper's couch. No; it is the fevered cheek of the hopeless that they fan with their downy wings. It is to the broken and the lost that they bring the thrilling memories and the magic wealth, and the maddening impossibilities of a dream. It is to those who lay their heads down, praying they may never rise again, that sleep restores what fate has snatched away. Then the stern consort of the king of hell smiles in her sad beauty, for she knows that when they wake to reality in the grey morning once more, the last drop of bitterness shall have been poured in, which the cup of life will hold.

I had neither hopes nor fears to keep my eyes open. The one Memory that has never left me in all these years, shining through the far distance still, like a star of heaven, eternal and unchanged, had smiled upon me ere I sank to

rest. I was not anxious, nor was I alarmed, but simply a little saddened by the recollections of the day, and very tired. So I think my slumbers were the soundest of all the sleepers in that large house -of all save one.

I was woke by a gentle tap at my bed-room door, and the voice of Gilbert's valet, an attached fellow, who had been with him through his illness, calling me by name.

'May I come in, sir? he said, in an agitated whisper, as though loth to disturb the rest of the household; 'I want to speak to you, if you please.'

I huddled on a few clothes, and opened the shutters to let in the cold light of the misty morning, just beginning to dawn.

The man was dressed as he had waited at dinner; evidently he had been sitting up all night. His face was very pale, and he trembled. I knew something dreadful had happened before he spoke.

'Mr. Orme !-sír,' he said, trying to steady his voice; 'he's never been to bed all night, sir! I beg your pardon for disturbing you, but I've been to his door several times. I -I can't get him to hear!'

What made me feel so horrorstruck, and yet so little surprised?

'He must have gone to sleep at his writing-table,' I answered, in corresponding tones of caution. Whence had I the intuition that, even while the words passed my lips, convicted me of a lie?

The man grasped eagerly at the suggestion. He was a ready fellow, I knew, and with better nerves than the generality of his order.

'He ought to be woke, sir,' said he, recovering his breath and colour. 'He'll catch his death of cold there with the fire out. I can't get into the room because the door's locked.

I didn't like to disturb the other gentlemen or any of the family, but I thought you wouldn't take it amiss, sir, if I came to ask you what I'd better do?'

By this time I was dressed; the man handing me my things unconsciously and from mere habit, as I wanted them. When we got into the passage he turned pale once

more

'I can take the lock off the door, sir,' he whispered; 'if you think it necessary.'

We reached his room. It was on the ground-floor, and far apart from any of the bed-chambers, so there was no fear of disturbing the other sleepers. As a matter of form I knocked twice or thrice pretty loudly, and then sent the man to fetch his tools for forcing the door. How long he seemed to be gone!and yet what a vague impression have I of that interval!

He returned at last. That was a moment of breathless suspense, which I shall never forget, when the lock came off, and fell with a clink upon the floor.

We both paused while one might have counted ten. Neither had courage to open the door and confront the horror that each had so dreaded, yet would not confess even to himself.

I pushed it back at last, and walked in. The fire was out, but candles were still burning, and the window-curtains drawn. The first thing I observed was Gilbert's watch upon the carpet.

My boy sat with his back to us, still in his shooting-dress; his head had sunk upon the writingtable, and lay pillowed on one arın, the other hand hung listlessly over the edge, but the fingers were clenched into the palm.

I touched it with mine, scarce knowing what I did. It was quite cold.

'He's asleep,' said the shaking valet, in a hoarse whisper. He's never dressed since he came in, and he's fallen off to sleep in his chair!'

'He is indeed asleep, Jones,' was all I could answer; and so sound, that he will never wake again.'

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Soon there were noises of hurrying feet in the passage, and pale faces one behind another blocking up the door-way, and suppressed whispers at intervals, and then the awful silence that seizes those who look upon the dead. I was relieved to see Holyhead and Gordon amongst the shuddering servants, and to learn that his relatives had not yet been disturbed.

Lady Olivia must be told of this at once,' said the latter. 'I will undertake that duty. Send off immediately for a doctor, and secure all these letters and papers without loss of time.'

So we lifted him up and carried him away, and laid him down gently and tenderly on his own

bed. Afterwards we returned and fastened up the chamber of death. Then I felt for the first time that the blow had fallen. I was half stupified, stunned, as it were, and numbed, before; but I knew it I knew that I should never, never see him again.

now.

The blinding tears did my old eyes good-the blinding tears that came so fast as I thought of his cruel fate. The bright, the brave, the beautiful. Was this the end of all? My boy!—my boy!

CHAPTER XLVII.

DUST TO DUST.

It is needless to dwell on the painful details that succeeded the catastrophe of Gilbert's fate. The necessary precautions, the cruel inquiries, the frightful suspicion, the solemn hush that pervaded the house, the dreary efforts to talk of other matters with the family, the bursts of feeling that would not be controlled. His mother scarcely appeared to realize the fact of her bereavement, yet now that she had lost him, the maternal tenderness of which we all thought her incapable seemed suddenly to have sprung into life. The very servants remarked that Lady Olivia would not allow the merest trifle to be moved from the place where her son had put it. She would sit for