all attended to by Gayárám, who was the neat-herd of the family. Besides grazing on the fields nearly the whole day, they had their núnds, or tubs, filled every evening with chopped straw and mustard oilcakes, and they chewed dry straw in the morning; while Kamadhenu, the best cow in the house, in addition to ordinary fodder, had every now and then bhusi (husk of pulse), and occasionally a gourd boiled together with khud, the refuse of rice. Every morning after the cow-house had been cleansed, Málati used to visit Lakshmi while she was in the act of chewing her dry straw, stroked her body, caught hold of her little horns, and played with her; and the gentle creature seemed really to have affection for Málati. The reader may ask what Badan did with so much milk. I answer that all the three cows did not give milk at the same time; that some was drunk by the women, especially by Málati: that some quantity was sold every day to a Bráhman family in the neighbourhood; that some was made into cream and then into ghi, or clarified butter; and some into curds for home consumption. It was a happy day when the cream was churned, and ghi made by old

Alanga, as it gave the family the benefit of a large quantity of sour milk, of which they were all fond.

Besides the bullocks and the cows, Badan had no other domestic animals. He had no poultry, for fowls, ducks, and geese are abomination to the majority of Hindus, and to that particular caste to which Badan belonged. He had one more animal besides those we have mentioned, and that was a dog. But dogs are not cared for in Bengal; they are not even touched by their masters, being reckoned unclean. Bághá, or Tiger-so the dog was called, either on account of his ferocious disposition or on account of some fancied resemblance to a tiger-used always to lie about the door and in the open yard, and had for his meals a handful of boiled rice from each male inmate of the house, who, after finishing breakfast or dinner, carried it to him on his way to the tank to wash his mouth and hands. Besides this stated provision, Bághá procured whatever he could from the houses in the neighbourhood and from the streets.

CHAPTER VI.

FIXES THE FATE AND NAME OF OUR HERO.

The destyné, mynistre general,

That executeth in the world over-al

The purveiauns, that God hath seyn byforn;

So strong it is, that though the world hadde sworn
The contrarye of a thing by ye or nay,

Yet somtym it schald falle upon a day

That falleth nought eft in a thousend yeere.

The Knighte's Tale.

IN the sútikágriha, or lying-in-room, the sixth day after the birth of a child is an important day. Besides the worship of the goddess Shashṭhi, the protectress of children, which takes place in the day, the destiny of the child is fixed on that night by Vidhátá Purusha, the Creator, and written in indelible characters on its forehead. As Vidhátá is not expected to bring with Him writing materials, an inkstand and a reed pen are put at the door of the

room;

but neither Badan nor his brothers have ever been initiated into the mysteries of reading and writing, and there was neither pen nor ink in the house. Alanga, therefore, who took more interest in the affair than any other member of the family, borrowed writing materials from a neighbour, and put them at the inner threshold of the lying-in-room. There is no fixed time for the appearance of Vidhátá; he may come at any time in the night; and as it is important that some one should be awake at the time, the duty of sitting up devolves on on the midwife. Rupá's mother did not close her eyes that night. As everyone else in the house was asleep-only old Alanga's sleep was greatly disturbed through excitement-no one knew what happened at night except Rupá's mother, who next morning related the whole story. For the benefit of the reader we here give

a translation of her account :

"After two praharas of the night were over," said Rupa's mother, "I heard the sound of footsteps at the door, especially on that side where the pen and ink were. The same sound of footfall was

heard all along the passage from the door to where

the baby was sleeping by the mother. Immediately after I heard a sound similar to that which is made by a man when writing, but I saw no figure. By the light of the fire, however, I saw a smile playing on the lips of the baby. Shortly after I heard the sound of retreating footsteps, and I rushed towards the door and said, Thakur (god)! I hope you have written favourably.' The god knew me well, as he has often seen me, and told me what he had written on the forehead of the child, but on condition of the strictest secrecy. I dare not disclose it to you, for if I disclose it Vidhátá will be angry with me, and kill me outright by twisting my neck. But, oh! mother Alanga, rejoice, for your grandchild's kapála (forehead) is good." I cannot take upon me to assert that Badan and his brothers credited the story, but I am certain that all the women of the house believed that Vidhátá Purusha had revealed to Rupá's mother what he had written on the child's forehead.

Two days after that is, when the infant was eight days old-a ceremony called the Átkouḍiyá (eight cowries) was performed. Alanga and Áduri were very busy all that day. They fried paddy,