happy one. In the joyless and monotonous existence of a poor Bengali villager there could only happen two or three events of sufficient importance to cause genuine excitement. So I had not to wait long before learning what was the matter, for my younger brothers and sisters were only too eager to tell me. There was a talk about my marriage and a bride had been chosen. She was a poor man's daughter, but she was reputed to be the most beautiful girl in the whole countryside. My mother was willing enough to accept her with no other dowry then her beauty. As her son was sure to be judge some day, she did not want to give him a rich and ugly bride. Everything had been almost settled. There remained only a formal visit to see the bride and to inform my father.
It would seem strange to many that the last-mentioned detail been omitted. But there was a reason. My father used to be absent from home on business for the greater part of the year. My mother could not write, so the duty of keeping him informed about our household affairs devolved upon Probodh. But in this matter mother had no faith in Probodh. She thought that he was too young to impart the information in the right way. He would only serve to enrage my father at her lack of wisdom, and he would come and upset all her arrangements. So she waited patiently for him to come home, when she would be able to tell him everything herself; and she expected him to give in to her views. From the fact that everybody expected my father to be angry, it might be conjectured that he possessed far more worldly wisdom than my simple mother and that he had not such faith in my future judgeship.
It still wanted a few days before he was to return. But for all that we did not need to delay our visit to the bride's house. An auspicious day was fixed upon and I with my brother Probodh and two of my friends started
