inclined to think that there was something more than mere asking of forgiveness. Most probably, in her last moments she wished to have a look at her beloved child's face, whom she had not seen for some time. Be that as it might, Vidyasagar was, after this mournful event, more favourably disposed to his son. Another potent cause had also sprung up, which served a great deal to soften his rigorous feelings. Two months before this sad catastrophe befeil him, he had received a most sincerely penitent letter from Narayan Chandra imploring his forgiveness in utmost pitiful terms. The epistle was couched in a most pathetic language, which moved his naturally tender heart. The letter, which was written in Bengali, ran to the following effect:—
Accept my most humble and respectful salutes.
'By the grace of your feet, I have got every, thing; I am earning some money; there is no lack of respect; in fact, to all outward appearance I am very happy. But a venomous insect stings my heart day and night. I have given up fancy dress; I have no other desire in my mind; only an eager desire to serve your feet has wholly engrosed my mind. My former errors always rise to memory and afflict me with penitence. Oh! how I wish I would not have been guilty of those sins at my father's feet! I have been reaping the fruit of my own errors. Had I been at your feet, how
