away from us after he had been to school only one year. Reading and writing do not suit poor people like us. I fear the gods will take away Govin also (the son of Shashṭhi! may he live for ever!) if you send him to school."

Badan. "Oh, mother, what an idea! Who ever heard of reading and writing killing a child? Why are not Bráhman and kayastha boys who learn reading: and writing also killed?"

Alanga. "The gods do not become angry with Bráhman and kayastha boys for learning, because that is their profession. But our business is to till the ground, and if we become so ambitious as to learn reading and writing, the gods will certainly become angry with us."

Badan. "But do you not know, mother, that some Aguris, men of our caste, know how to read and to write? Does not Naṭavara Sámanta read and write? Is not Madhu Sinha a moharir (writer)? Why have the gods not killed them ?"

Alanga. "Whatever it may be with other people, writing and reading do not seem to agree with our

family. If that be not the case, why did your

brother die shortly after he had begun to go to school? Answer that."

Badan. "Why, as to death, mother, that is the decree of fate. Whatever is written on the forehead by Vidhátá Purusha must come to pass. Vidhátá had written on my brother's head that he would die when seven years old, and therefore he died; and he would have died at that age whether my father had sent him to school or not. The quantity of rice with which he had come into the world was finished, and therefore he died. It is fate, mother, it is fate."

Alanga. Quite true, Bábá Badan, the forehead is the chief thing. Why, then, should you fight against the forehead? We have been born tillers of the ground, and we must remain tillers of the ground all our life. Besides, did your fathers ever learn to write and to read? Why should you wish your son to do what your forefathers never did?"

Badan. "The days in which our fathers lived were days of piety and virtue. That was the SatyaYuga. There was no cheating, no oppression in those days. Writing and reading, therefore, were

not essentially necessary.

But in our days, men

have become very deceitful-they fear neither gods nor men. It is necessary to learn to read and to write, that we may not be theated and oppressed."

Alanga. "You men can talk a great deal, and bring a great many reasons for what you say. What can a woman say before a man? Do what you think best, Bábá Badan; I am only afraid that he may be taken away by the gods like your elder brother. It is far better for poor Govin to get his daily rice by tending cows in the field, than to learn to read and write and then die."

Badan. "I have told you, mother, that life and death are in the hands of the gods. If it be written on Govin's forehead that he will die (may the gods make him immortal!) on such a day it will come to pass, whether he be sent to school or not, as no one can reverse the writing on the forehead. I beg of you, mother, to agree to sending Govin to the páthsalá of Ráma Rúpa Sarkár: I prefer his school to the other, as he is well versed in zamindár, accounts. Do agree to it, mother."

Alanga. "If you will have it so Bábá Badan,

then send him. May Gopinath preserve him! But if he is to be sent to school, you must wait a few days till I spin some more thread, sufficient to make for Govin a dhuti."

Badan, overjoyed at his mother's consent, readily agreed to the delay.

Gentle reader, allow me here to make one remark. You perceive that Badan and Alanga speak better English than most uneducated English peasants; they speak almost like educated ladies and gentlemen, without any provincialisms. But how could I have avoided this defect in my history? If I had translated their talk into the Somersetshire or the Yorkshire dialect, I should have turned them into English, and not Bengali, peasants. You will, therefore, please overlook this grave though unavoidable fault in this authentic narrative.

CHAPTER X.

THE FIVE-FACED.

He foams at mouth; and, by-and by,
Breaks out to savage madness.

Othello.

I SAID in the last chapter that nothing worthy of notice occurred during the first five years of Govinda's life. I beg now to recall that statement, as I have been since informed that a notable event happened when he was about five years old; whether it was towards the end of his fifth year or the beginning of the sixth I have not been able exactly to ascertain, but it did happen about that time. Alanga always remembered that it happened on a Saturday, but the month and the year escaped her memory. I have to throw myself upon the indulgence of