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She could repeat almost every piece she translated by heart, and whenever there was a hitch, it was only necessary to repeat a line of the translation to put an end to it, and draw out of her lips the whole original poem in its entireness. I have already said, she read much: she read rapidly too; but she never slurred over a difficulty when she was reading.


Sometimes I was so sure of my ground, that I would say, 'Well, let us lay a wager. But when the authorities were consulted, she was almost always the winner. It was curious and very pleasant for me to watch her when she lost. Barrett-Browning , her favourite poetess, like this—. The great ambition of the sisters was to publish a novel anonymously, which Toru should write, and Aru, who was far more deft at the pencil, should illustrate.

Toru's part of the contract has been faithfully fulfilled. I have before me her manuscript. It is in the form of a diary written in French by a young lady. The scene is laid in France, and the characters are all French men and women. I shall publish it probably hereafter. Aru did not live to complete her part of the undertaking. After her return to India, Toru commenced the study of Sanscrit along with me. We laboured hard at it, for not quite a year; her failing health compelled me to order her to give it up.

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She made a few translations as we read together. As two of these pieces have been published, I may as well reprint them here.


The first appeared in the ' Calcutta Review ,' the second in the 'Bengal Magazine. From the Vishnu Purana , B. Of old thou gav'st a promise to relate The deeds of Bharat , that great hermit-king; Beloved Master, now the occasion suits, And I am all attention. Brahman, hear. With a mind fixed intently on his gods. Long reigned in Saligram of ancient fame, The mighty monarch of the wide, wide world.

Chief of the virtuous, never in his life Harmed he, or strove to harm, his fellow-man, Or any creature sentient. But he left His kingdom in the forest-shades to dwell, And changed his sceptre for a hermit's staff, And with ascetic rites, privations rude, And constant prayers, endeavoured to attain Perfect dominion on his soul.

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At morn, Fuel, and flowers, and fruit, and holy grass, He gathered for oblations; and he passed In stern devotion all his other hours; Of the world heedless, and its myriad cares, And heedless too of wealth, and love, and fame. Once on a time, while living thus, he went To bathe where through the wood the river flows: And his ablutions done, he sat him down Upon the shelving bank to muse and pray.

Thither impelled by thirst, a graceful hind, Big with its young, came fearlessly to drink. Sudden, while yet she drank, the lion's roar, Feared by all creatures, like a thunder-clap Burst in that solitude from a thicket nigh. Startled, the hind leapt up, and from her womb Her offspring tumbled in the rushing stream.

Whelmed by the hissing waves and carried far By the strong current swoln by recent rain, The tiny thing still struggled for its life, While its poor mother, in her fright and pain, Fell down upon the bank and breathed her last. Up rose the hermit-monarch at the sight, Full of keen anguish; with his pilgrim staff He drew the new-born creature from the wave; 'Twas panting fast, but life was in it still. Now, as he saw its luckless mother dead, He would not leave it in the woods alone, But with the tenderest pity brought it home.

There, in his leafy hut, he gave it food, And daily nourished it with patient care, Until it grew in stature and in strength, And to the forest skirts could venture forth In search of sustenance. At early morn Thenceforth it used to leave the hermitage And with the shades of evening come again, And in the little courtyard of the hut Lie down in peace, unless the tigers fierce, Prowling about, compelled it to return Earlier at noon. But whether near or far, Wandering abroad, or resting in its home, The monarch-hermit's heart was with it still, Bound by affection's ties; nor could he think Of anything besides this little hind, His nursling.

Though a kingdom he had left, And children, and a host of loving friends, Almost without a tear, the fount of love Sprang out anew within his blighted heart, To greet this dumb, weak, helpless foster-child.

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Lo, how the earth is dinted with its hoofs, And variegated. Surely for my joy It was created. When will it come back, And rub its budding antlers on my arms, In token of its love and deep delight To see my face? The shaven stalks of grass,. Kusha and kasha, by its new teeth clipped, Remind me of it, as they stand in lines Like pious boys who chant the Samga Veds Shorn by their vows of all their wealth of hair.

And he who had abandoned ease and wealth, And friends and dearest ties, and kingly power, Found his devotions broken by the love He had bestowed upon a little hind Thrown in his way by chance. Years glided on. And Death, who spareth none, approached at last The hermit-king to summon him away; The hind was at his side with tearful eyes Watching his last sad moments, like a child Beside a father. He too watched and watched His favourite through a blinding film of tears, And could not think of the Beyond at hand, So keen he felt the parting, such deep grief O'erwhelmed him for the creature he had reared.

To it devoted was his last, last thought, Reckless of present and of future both! Thus far the pious chronicle, writ of old By Brahman sage; but we, who happier live Under the holiest dispensation, know That God is Love, and not to be adored By a devotion born of stoic pride, Or with ascetic rites, or penance hard, But with a love, in character akin To His unselfish, all-including love. And therefore little can we sympathise With what the Brahman sage would fain imply As the concluding moral of his tale,.

That for the hermit-king it was a sin To love his nursling. A sin to love!

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A sin to pity! Rather should we deem, Whatever Brahmans wise, or monks may hold, That he had sinned in casting off all love By his retirement to the forest—shades; For that was to abandon duties high, And, like a recreant soldier, leave the post Where God had placed him as a sentinel. We conducted a qualitative sociological survey among French far left groups.

In their discourse, we identified four grammars of legitimation of political violence used by these political groups. This research contributes to knowledge concerning the dual grammar of instrumental vs. Parmi les 44 individus, 14 sont des femmes i. Turbulences, sept. Ces techniques sont au nombre de cinq.

Where the earth ended and the sea began it was impossible for the eye to distinguish. I soon felt that strange and mysterious sensation which is awakened in the mind when looking down from lofty hilltops, and now I was able to do so without any feeling of nervousness, having fortunately hardened myself to that kind of sublime contemplation. I wholly forgot who I was, and where I was.

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I became intoxicated with a sense of lofty sublimity, without thought of the abysses into which my daring was soon about to plunge me. Vingt mille lieues sous les mers. A qui avions-nous affaire?

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Le pays des fourrures. Le Tour du monde en quatre-vingts jours. Everybody knows that the great reversed triangle of land, with its base in the north and its apex in the south, which is called India, embraces fourteen hundred thousand square miles, upon which is spread unequally a population of one hundred and eighty millions of souls.

The British Crown exercises a real and despotic dominion over the larger portion of this vast country, and has a governor-general stationed at Calcutta, governors at Madras, Bombay, and in Bengal, and a lieutenant-governor at Agra. But British India, properly so called, only embraces seven hundred thousand square miles, and a population of from one hundred to one hundred and ten millions of inhabitants.

A considerable portion of India is still free from British authority; and there are certain ferocious rajahs in the interior who are absolutely independent. Il avait accompli en quatre-vingts jours ce voyage autour du monde!

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