CHAPTER XXIX.

Third Conversation on the Lord's Prayer-" But deliver us from Evil."

I AM prepared with a curious little narrative, my beloved young friends, which I hope will at once please and profit you," said the lady of the manor, when she found herself again surrounded by her young people. "Its title is The Garden of Roses,' and it refers expressly to that clause in the Lord's Prayer, by which we are taught to seek deliverance from all evil. It is curious, because it presents a view of that kind of life never, as I can recollect, before described by any English writer; and is the more valuable, as it is, I have every reason to think, a very faithful picture."

The lady of the manor then read as follows.

The Garden of Roses.

"It is now between sixty and seventy years since my father and uncle went out to India, the one in a civil and the other in a medical capacity. When they left England, my uncle was married; and as his wife's sister accompa nied them on the passage, my father made so good a use of the opportunities afforded him during the voyage, that fe had scarcely arrived in Calcutta, before the young single lady consented to become his wife, and was united to him before any of the party left the presidency.

"The state of the English possessions in India, was very different at that period to what it now is; and our territories, which are now bounded by the towering summits of the Himalaya, at that time extended little further than

the Rajemahal hills. The natives of Hindoostaun were then also in a much more barbarous state than they now are, and the few English families who resided in the country, infinitely more ignorant, tyrannical, and greedy of gain, than at the present time.

"I was born at a station lying near the river, between Berhampore and Rajemahal, and recollect very little of my parents. I was not their eldest child, though the only one who survived its infancy. The few and faint impressions I have of my mother are, however, very precious; and I have some convictions in my mind that she was a pious woman, though perhaps I should have some difficulty in explaining my reasons for this persuasion. She was certainly, however, a tender and careful parent; and I suffered a severe bereavement, when in my sixth year I was deprived of her by death.

"I remember little of the circumstances of her funeral: perhaps I might have been removed from the house at the time. But I well recollect being left afterwards under the charge of a Portuguese ayah, who treated me with kindness in some respects, but allowed me to acquire such knowledge of evil as I never could forget through all the subsequent years of my childhood or youth, and which probably laid the foundation of most of my miseries in after life.

"And here, surely, it cannot be out of place to give some cautions to parents respecting those persons to whom they confide their infant children.

"It has been frequently remarked, that there are few denominations of domestics in England more universally corrupt, than those who are employed about infants. If we enquire what young women in any town are counted to be the most depraved, it will generally be answered, the nurserymaids, and the reason for this is evident. The business of a nursery-maid is at once laborious and at the same time favourable for gossiping and unsettled habits. When a mother takes charge of her own infant, she finds an occupation for her heart and for every thought as well as for her hands. But this is what cannot be generally expected from her who performs these duties merely from interested motives. Neither can the divine blessing be expected upon that parent who neglects her own duties through indolence, pride,

or the love of pleasure, and wholly resigns the endearing caresses of her infant to one who regards them less than the coin with which she is paid for her hireling services.

"Notwithstanding this general assertion, we however believe that there are many young women in England who perform the duties of the nursery-maid with tenderness and fidelity. But we fear that in India, and other heathen countries, although there may be some instances of warm affection between the infant and its nurse, yet that there are few, very few, children reared by heathens or papists, who have not reason to lament through life the deep pollutions acquired in the nursery. Many dreadful instances of this kind have fallen under my observation, and I take this occasion earnestly to supplicate all parents now residing abroad, to look anxiously at their nurseries, to watch with unremitting care, to inevestigate every doubtful word and action, and to leave their infants as little as possible under the charge of those persons who have had any communication with idolaters; for after all that has been said by moralists, travellers, philosophers, and even missionaries, I believe that the world in general is only half awakened to the abominations of idolatrous countries,

66 I return to my own little history, and I might reflect bitterly upon the guides of my childhood, for their deeply wicked lessons long remained imprinted on my heart, yet I have few recollections of the scenes which passed before my eyes, or the places in which I spent my time. I remember, indeed, many tawny faces which continually surrounded me in my early life. I also remember a hearse-like coach drawn by bullocks, in which I sat between the knees of my ayah, and in which I often went out to take the air. I remember a wild region through which I often used to pass on these occasions, where the road on each side was bordered with clusters and groves of luxuriant vegetation; and where, amidst many swampy marshes, I saw vultures and other wild birds. I remember also a bazar where we used often to stop to buy sweetmeats and cakes, and to purchase bangles; and where I saw many fierce human beings, and savage looking little children. And I also remember my own apartments, which were wide and empty, and had many doors, the chief of which opened into a verandah, where I frequently

sat with my attendants after sunset, enjoying the breezes which blew over a garden of roses, in which my mother had taken great delight.

Among my father's servants was a Persian moonshee, a man of some learning, and as he had a fine voice for singing, he used sometimes to be admitted to my apartments in an evening, particularly when my father was absent. He brought with him an instrument, which was neither a guitar nor a violin, but something like both, and used it to accompany his own voice in some of the old Persian and Hindoo airs, which were extremely pleasing and pathetic. After he had thus regaled us, he used to tell us many stories, in which truth and falsehood, the marvellous and the beautiful, were strangely blended, and in a manner which made a strong impression upon my young mind.

"One of these stories, which was probably suggested to his mind by the fragrance of the roses in the garden which spread itself under the verandah, took strong hold of my mind, and I remembered it accurately, and have thought much of it in after life.

"There are some roses,' said the moonshee, which have no thorns, but these are not the fairest or most fragrant of these lovely flowers. There was once a princess of Shiraaz who resolved that she would have such a garden of roses as had never before been seen in that delightful climate. Accordingly, she ordered a suitable spot of ground on the declivity of one of the mountains in the neighbourhood of the royal city to be prepared for her garden, into which two streams of pure water from the hills were conducted, and which was sheltered from the keen winds of the north by a grove of cedars which one might suppose, from their majestic appearance and extensive shades, to have been coeval with the hills themselves.

"Into these gardens she directed that every variety of rose-tree should be introduced, from the variegated flower of Damascus, to the little crimson rose-bush of Cathai. And now when the cold season had passed away and the warmer period of spring had restored each plant to its bloom, and had invited the song of the nightingale, she took occasion to visit her garden, and to enjoy the pleasure of its many odours, as she was seated in a marble pavilion which had been erected in the centre of it.

"And now when the Shirazadee first beheld her garden, she was filled with satisfaction, and extolled the gardeners and other workmen, who had so soon converted this comparatively barren spot into a blooming paradise. She listened with delight to the rushing of the waters, and the warbling of the birds; to the hum of bees, and gentle murmurs of the breezes; and sat awhile enrapt in enjoyment. But inasmuch as royal eyes and ears are not used to be long satisfied with the same thing, she presently must needs leave the pavilion, and busy herself, with her own hands, in plucking some of those flowers whose fragrance ́and beauty charmed her senses; and in her haste she thrust her hand into a bush, and drew it forth bleeding and pierced with many thorns.

"Not yielding to the control of reason, when she felt the wounds she became enraged, and commanded that every rose-tree which bore a thorn should instantly be plucked up. The princess was obeyed, and the garden despoiled of its fairest beauties; and when the Shirazadec again walked in her pleasure-ground, she had to lament her impetuosity, and would willingly have restored the charms of her garden.'

"This was the story often repeated by the Persian, and the moral he drew from it was this: that there was no enjoyment on earth without its imperfection, no rose of beauty and fragrance without its thorns; and that the wisdom of mankind consisted, not in avoiding evil, but in distinguishing between lesser and imaginary inconveniences and those which are more real and important. He then expatiated (in a manner which I have since wondered at, considering that he was merely a mussulmaun, and was not acquainted with the purifying doctrines of our holy religion) upon the nature of evil, which he maintained to consist in moral depravity, declaring that no human being could be counted truly miserable who supported an upright and virtuous conduct. I have read that this sentiment has been maintained by many of the ancient heathen philosophers. Be this as it may, it was a remarkable one from a person in such circumstances. And this I believe was the only occasion, on which, during my residence in India, I ever heard a single moral sentiment from any of the natives of the East.