TO BE CONTINUED. [Page 507]
From London Society.
TENDER AND TRUE AND TRIED.
Tender and true.
You kept faith with me,
As I kept faith with you;—
Though over us both
Since we plighted troth
Long years have rolled:—
But our love could hold
Through troubles and trials manifold,
My darling tender and true!
Tender and true,
In your eyes I gazed,
And my heart was safe, I knew!
Your trusting smile
Was pure of guile,
And I read in sooth
On your brow's fair youth
The earnest of loyal trust and truth,
My darling tender and true!
Tender and true.
All my own at last!
My blessing for all life through—
In death as life
My one loved wife—
Mine—mine at last,
All troubles past—
And the future all happiness, deep and vast.
My darling tender and true!
Translated from Etudes Religieuses, Historiques, et Littéraires, par des Pères de la Compagnie de Jésus.
A RIDE THROUGH CALCUTTA AND ITS VICINITY.
LETTER FROM A FATHER OF THE PROVINCE OF BELGIUM,
MISSIONARY AT CALCUTTA.
You ask me for a little information concerning this country and our ordinary life in this climate. I am entirely at your disposal for this whole afternoon, if you will come and join me at the college of St. Francis Xavier, No. 10 Park street, Calcutta.
It is warm there. The thermometer I have just consulted stands 37° centigrades in the shade. Look where you may from my windows, you see nothing but white houses which, turned toward the four winds of heaven, have no other shade but that of their cornice; and a little further on, in an old cemetery, some fifty obelisks lit up on their four faces, so vertical is our sun! Hence, though lightly clad—a white calico soutane, without buttons, a white girdle, white pantaloons, and white shoe—we still feel enough of the tropical heat of the dog-star. Happily, we have the breeze, which, although it does not lower the thermometer any, refreshes us considerably. But it does not always blow; and when it stops, the floor is watered with drops of perspiration as big as two-franc pieces. Those who would then make up for the breeze have themselves ponka-ed. Ponka-ed? what is that? To understand it, you will enter Father Stochman's abode. He is seated all in white, at his desk, in the middle of a large room; over his bald head, at a little less than a metre, is hung a large white triangle, three metres long horizontally, and one metre in height; a cord is fastened to it there, passes into the hollow of a pulley fixed to the wall, and terminates at a crouching Indian, clad in his dusky skin and a strip of stuff around his loins. This human machine has no other occupation than to pull the cord which balances continually over Father Stochman's head the other rectangular machine that I have described to you, which is called a ponka. Now, do not suppose that Father Stochman is a Sybarite. There are ponkas here everywhere: in the parlor, in the refectory, and many persons have themselves ponkaed in their bed the whole night long. These instruments are not in use in Catholic churches, but every parishioner, male and female, continually uses the fan, which by extension is likewise called a ponka. Other countries, other customs; a ponka is here more necessary than a coat; whereas, on the other hand, there is not a single chimney in the whole house. No chimney, you will say; do you, then, eat your rice quite raw? To that question I have two answers; first, the kitchen, with us as with our neighbors, is not in the house, but in the compound—that is to say, in the vast inclosure that surrounds the dwelling. Then I will furthermore observe, that even in the kitchen there is no chimney. These black Indians, who are our cooks, are accustomed to make fire without troubling themselves about the smoke, which escapes wherever it can, through the windows, through the crevices, anywhere and everywhere. If you were, like me, philosopher enough to eat whatever comes before you, I would introduce you into that kitchen; but I think you would not care to enter that dingy [{387}] hole, lest you should for ever lose your appetite. Let us leave the Indians in their den, and go sit down under the ponka in the refectory. To-day they will serve us with mutton and fowl; to-morrow with fowl and mutton; now and then with fowl only. As regards vegetables, yon shall see them successively of all kinds; but, if you take my advice, you will not touch them; they have no other taste than that of stagnant water. Beside the morning repast and the dinner, which is at half-past three o'clock, we have two other meals a day. One at noon, under the name of tiffin, is composed, in the maximum, of a glass of beer, a crust of bread, and some fruit; for some amongst us, it is reduced to but one of those three things; for many others, and myself in particular, to nothing at all. The other repast, at eight in the evening, consists of a cup of coffee, with or without bread.
And now let us quit this abode of misery, no more to return. Come and see my chamber. It has no ponka, but four windows, open day and night; two to the south, where the sun does not enter, and two to the east, where the Persians forbid him access in the morning. My bed is a species of large sofa, upon which there is a nondescript article, that is neither a pattiass nor a mattrass. It is a flat sack, eight or nine inches thick, and stuffed with hair; over it two linen sheets (a luxury here, where most people use but one) and a pillow as hard as the mattrass. But best of all are the four posts supporting a horizontal rectangle from which is hung the mosquito net. The mosquito net is used here all the year round. It is a piece of net fastened below the mattrass. Behind, that frail rampart, if happily there be no rent in it anywhere, you enjoy the pleasure of hearing the mosquitoes buzzing about powerless and exasperated. In December and January, there are clouds of them; but, hearing them, you appreciate that verse of Tibullus: Quam juvat immites ventos audire cubantem! What is a mosquito? It is the cousin-german of your gnats in Europe, generally a little smaller, but quite the same in form; it sings and stings like them; only its sting is a little more painful, and is followed by a larger and more lasting tumor. Nothing can secure you against its attacks; it can dart its sting even through a double covering of linen.