If I am not mistaken, I have said nothing yet of the character of these poor Indians. In this respect some reserve is necessary. I hear it said that there is very little resemblance between Bengal, Maduras, the Bombay territory, the Punjaub, etc. As for the Bengalese, all agree in regarding them as the most degraded; they are effeminate, idle, and cowardly by temperament; liars and thieves by education. They often dispute amongst themselves, but never fight. That cowardice encourages many Englishmen, who beat them at random when they have nothing else to do. My idea is that, unless miracles of grace be wrought for them, it is scarcely possible to make true Christians of these poor people. The only means of establishing Christianity amongst the race would be to buy their children, and bring them up, away from all contact with the others. There are Christians amongst them, who are oftenest found as cooks or kansama amongst the Europeans; but they know not the first rudiments of their religion, go to church only on Good Friday and All Souls' Day, and are generally admitted to be worse than the pagan servants.
Our day is now ended. If you are fatigued, come and rest yourself on the college roof, constructed as a platform, like those of all the other houses in the country. There, evening and morning, but only then, the heat is bearable. I sometimes go and sit there to think of my friends. I look back into the past, forget the present, and, as I do everywhere else, laugh at what worldlings call the future. The future is heaven. It seems to me that I am nearer to it here than in Europe. May God grant us grace to gain it one day or another!
T. CARBONNNELLE.
THE ROUND OF THE WATERS.
BY ROBT. W. WEIR
"All thy works praise thee, O Lord."
Up, up on the mountains, high up near the sky.
Where the earth gathers moisture from clouds passing by;
Where the first drops of rain patter down full of glee,
As they join hand in hand on their way to the sea;
There the rills, like young children, go prattling along.
Full of life, full of joy, full of motion and song;
And, swelling the brooks, with glad voices they raise,
To him who made all things, their tribute of praise.
Then, as they dance onward, half hidden in spray,
Like bands of young nymphs dress'd in bridal array,
With shouts of wild laughter they leap the deep linn.
Where the broad flowing river at once takes them in.
Now calm their rude mirth as they matronly glide,
Bearing onward rich freight to the blue briny tide.
Where the mist of the mountains once more joins the sea
With its incense, O Lord, ever heaving to thee.
Translated from the German
THE BIBLE; OR, CHRISTMAS EVE,
Christmas Eve had come. The bells of the high towers in majestic and solemn tones were reminding the faithful that the advent of the Lord was near. Here and there through the gathering darkness already glimmered a solitary taper, casting a feeble light upon the streets, where a throng of people, large and small, young and old, were moving to and fro with joyful activity, impatiently awaiting the hour when the treasures and splendor of the Christmas market should be opened to them. Good mothers were engaged in quietly and secretly baking the cakes and adorning the Christmas-tree for the children, and shared beforehand in the delights and surprises of the little ones, while others, who had perhaps chosen the best part, were preparing themselves in still devotion and pious meditation for the great festival.