declared that his intellect, though he had not had the benefit of páṭhsálá training, was as keen as the edge of the razor he wielded. Another of our hero's companions was Rasamaya, the son of a modaka or confectioner. I do not know that other nation in the world consumes so many any sweetmeats as the higher and middle classes of the people of Bengal. In other countries sweets and comfits are for the most part eaten by children; in Bengal they are eaten as much by grown men and women as by children. In some feasts all the courses consist of sweetmeats from beginning to end. Is this the reason why the Bengalis have not left off their state of pupilage as a nation? But whether this is the case or not, the fact is undoubted that Bengalis consume an immense quantity of sweetmeats. Hence confectioners are as plentiful in the land as crows Kanchanpur was famous for one sort of sweetmeats which were not so well made in any other village of Bengal. As Vardhamána is celebrated for its olá, Chandernagore for its rasagollá, Mánkar for its kadmá, Dhaniyákháli for its khaichur, Sántipur for its moá, Birbhum for its morobbá, Vishnupur for its matichur, Ambiká for its suatolá-monḍa, so Kánchanpur was famous for its khájá, which may truly be said to be the rájá (king) of sweetmeats. Vardhamána certainly gets the credit of this monarch of sweetmeats, as well as of olá; but those who are well acquainted with the matter know that the best manufacturers of khájá in Vardhamána are all natives of Kánchanpur; and of these Rasamaya's father was the most distinguished. Badan, as a husbandman, was not in circumstances to buy sweetmeats for his son or for his wife-the only sweetmeat consumed by the peasantry being, besides treacle in its raw unmanufactured state, muḍki—that is, parched paddy (with the husk taken off) dipped in treacle-and in high days and holidays páțáli; but thanks to Govinda's friendship with Rasamaya, he was not unfrequently presented with sweetmeats used by the higher classes, and especially with khájá, the rájá of confectionery. The last companion of Govinda we shall mention is Bokárám, the son of a weaver-indeed, the son of that identical weaver to whom Alanga had given threads of her own spinning for weaving a dhuti for our hero, when he ceased for the first time to revel in his infantile state of Adamic nudity. Lancashire weavers are, we believe, very sharp-some say a little too sharp-in their dealings; but we know not how it is that the Bengal weaver has, from time out of mind, been noted for his stupidity. In point of mental acuteness, he is the very antipodes of the barber. Bokárám did no discredit to his caste, as he possessed no ordinary degree of stupidity. His friends used to say that Providence had meant to make him an ass, but through inadvertence made him into a man. But though his head was a block, he had a good heart, and was ready to help his friends to the utmost of his power. Govinda never asked his advice in any matter, as he had no great respect for his understanding, but valued him greatly for the transparent sincerity and perfect guilelessness of his character. Our hero may, I think, be congratulated on the choice he made of his friends and associates, as each of them was noted for some one good quality in a high degree of development: - Nanda for great energy and physical activity, Kapila for his æsthetic taste and artistic skill, Madan for prudence, Chatura for shrewdness, Rasamaya for cheerfulness, and Bokárám for sincerity. CHAPTER XXIV. GREAT SENSATION IN THE VILLAGE. O horror! horror! horror! tongue nor heart Macbeth. ONE summer noon the people of Kánchanpur were in tremendous excitement. About the fifth or sixth danda of that morning, the second daughter of Padma Lochan Pál-the same who had a sugar-cane field into which one of Govinda's cows had strayed-a girl of about six years of age, came out of her house to the street and began to play with other girls. It is usual with little boys and girls who go out to play, to come home about nine o'clock to eat some muḍi and muḍki, or to drink some milk. Yádumani (for that was the name of the girl) had hitherto always come at that hour to her mother to eat something; but that day |