kept for his master’s horses. It soon came to the notice of the sahib, and on his asking the sircar why he had meddled with the grain, the latter tried to justify himself, saying, “Yesh, Shir, my house morning and ebening too, twenty libesh full, litteel litteel pay, how manage?” This oration in correct English means, “Yes, sir, I have to feed the members of my family, twenty in number; the salary I get is too small to enable me to do so; how can I manage to buy my lunch?” It is said that this magnificent speech secured the sircar an increase of pay. Englishmen were greatly amused at hearing the Bengalis’ ridiculous attempts to speak their language. It supplied them with an inexhaustible fund of mirth at their tables.
The Government, as we have said before, did nothing at first for the spread of English education in the country, because it feared lest by doing so it should incur public disfavour. One of its chief weaknesses, though amiable in motive, was the apprehension that the introduction of anything new, or the least criticism made on anything dear to the people, would be dangerous. As an instance, we may refer to the high-handed proceedings of the Governor-General in 1807, to stop the circulation of a Persian pamphlet written and published by Dr Carey to show the superiority of Christianity over Muhammadism. A letter was at once sent to the Danish Governor at Serampur asking him to take possession of his house in Calcutta; and Carey was deprived of the only means he then had of approaching the followers of Islam with the truths so dear to him. Owing to the same timidity, also, the East India Company strictly enjoined the Governor-General not to take any direct steps towards giving English education to their subjects.
But in 1811, Lord Minto, being impressed with the backward condition of the people under his rule,
