for ever! I know that, let the tutor be ever so anxious to perform his duty, let the pupil be ever so ready to listen, times will come when good intentions and precepts may be forgotten; but such failings off should not damp the energies of either, but with sorrow for their derelictions, and earnest prayer for strength from above, they should rise to new exertions, and each year will afford to the tutor greater encouragement, as he sees in the lives of his pupils the fruit of his instruction.
What I wish you to remember is this, that every one of you—the poorest and humblest as well as the richest—may do a great deal of good to your fellow-creatures, if you will but try to find out the way; and also that you cannot devote yourself to amusement, as so many do, without committing a very grave fault, by neglecting the duties of which I have spoken; while I am very certain that you would lose an unfailing source of happiness, for which no other gratification can afford any recompense.
I beg you to think very deeply of what I have said; and now I will go on with my narrative.
Sir Charles at once set to work with my education, and Ellen Barrow was, under his directions, my instructress. I do not remember that I was much troubled with the sight of books; but she drew a number of pictures of various objects, and made me repeat their names, and then she cut out the alphabet in cardboard, by which means I very soon knew my letters. If I was sick she never attempted to teach me, so that all the means offered me of gaining knowledge were pleasurable, and I thus took at once a strong liking to learning, which has never deserted me. Before the termination of the voyage. I could express myself in English, so as to be understood as well as are most children of my age; and as Sir Charles would not allow me to be taught nonsense, I put a right signification upon the words I used.
One morning, at daybreak, a cry was heard from the mast-head of “Land ahead!” and so true had been the observations of Captain Willis, that a few hours afterwards, with a fine breeze, we were entering Table Bay, at the Cape of Good Hope.
The Cape of Good Hope colony is, as most of my young readers are well aware, now an English settlement. It once belonged to the Dutch; but we took it from them during the last war, when they sided with the republican French. It is most celebrated for its sheep pastures; but it also produces wine, and corn, and oil, and affords ample room for the establishment of numbers of our countrymen, who cannot find employment at home. The climate is very healthy; but there are very strong winds, and sometimes droughts which destroy the labours of the husbandman.
However, people who settle there become much attached to the country; and those fond of chasing wild beasts may gratify their tastes to the full in the interior; but they must remember that they cannot, at the same time, attend properly to their farming operations, which must, of necessity, be carried on in more settled districts. It is on many accounts a very valuable colony to Great Britain, and, among others, because it is on the high road to her extensive possessions in Australasia and that in its harbours the numerous shipping which sail thither may find shelter in time of war, and at all times may replenish their water and provisions. It affords a home to thousands of our countrymen, and it supplies the raw material, wool, to our manufacturers; and its inhabitants, by using a large quantity of British manufactures, afford employment to thousands of persons at home, who would otherwise of necessity be idle. By my calculations, every three or four Englishmen who go to one of our southern colonies, and are prosperous, afford employment to one person of those remaining at home; and we thus see how immediately the mother country is benefited by an extensive colonisation. Those very emigrants, or those who have taken their places, had they remained, it must be borne in mind, might have been idle and paupers; while the money which is now circulating, usefully affording employment to others, would have been employed in supporting them in idleness. However, the subject is irrelevant to my history: I mention it because I want to draw the attention of my young friends to the value of our colonial possessions, that when they become men, they may do their utmost to increase the prosperity of the colonies, being assured that they cannot turn their attention to a more patriotic subject.
We remained several days in Table Bay; during which time most of the passengers lived on shore, and some even ventured a considerable way into the interior. Cape Town extends along the shores of the bay at the foot of the far-famed Table Mountain, towards which the ground gradually rises from the waters. The streets are straight, regularly constructed, and run at right angles to each other. They are lined with elm and oak trees, which in summer afford a grateful shade.
There is a clean nice look about the place, which reminds one of an English town. I visited it many years after the time of which I am now speaking, for which reason I am able to describe it. The squares are well laid out, and the public edifices are numerous and substantial. The private houses are built chiefly of red brick or stone, with a terrace before the door shaded by trees. Here not only the Dutch, but the English, as was once the custom in the old country in days long gone by, delight to sit and work in the shade, when the sun is hot, or in the evening to enjoy the fresh breeze from the open sea.
There are upwards of 25,000 inhabitants, half of whom are white, the majority being Dutch or of Dutch descent.
Cape Town is strongly fortified. The entrance to the bay is commanded by a battery called the Mouillé. There is a castle to the left of the town, and several other forts and batteries. The colony is divided into two provinces—the Western Province, of which Cape Town is the capital; and the Eastern Province, of which Graham’s Town is the capital. Each province is divided into districts, many of which retain the old Dutch names; indeed, nearly all the places in the long settled parts are called by the appellations given them by the early possessors of the colony.
There are no navigable rivers; and as the country is wild and mountainous, the means of communication are not easy. To the east, about five hundred miles from the frontier, is the new settlement of Natal, which, from its beautiful climate, and many excellent qualities, promises some day to become a very valuable possession.
Having got our stores on board, the Blue Peter was hoisted, our passengers again collected in their accustomed places, full of all the things they had seen and heard, and once more we were ploughing the ocean towards the mouth of the wealth-bearing Hoogly.
Chapter Five.
Our voyage was most propitious, and, without any event worthy of notice, we approached the mouth of the Hoogly, on the shore of which stands Calcutta, the magnificent city whither we were bound. While still some way off the land the pilot came on board to take charge of the ship; and now, from the heavy responsibility which had so long weighed on the shoulders of Captain Willis, he was in part relieved, as the pilot became answerable for the safety of the ship. While we slowly glide up the placid stream, one of the mouths of the far-famed Ganges, the sacred river of the Hindoos, I will give a short description of it.
The Ganges is 1,500 miles long, and as far as 500 miles from the sea the channel is thirty feet deep, when, during the dry season, the river is at its lowest, while so great even there is its width, that it appears like an inland sea. At 200 miles from the ocean the Ganges separates into two branches; the south-east retaining the name of the Ganges, and the west assuming the appellation of the Hoogly; the delta, or triangular space between the two, being called the Sunderbunds.
Among the eternal snows of the lofty mountains of the Himalaya, 20,000 feet above the level of the sea, in latitude 30 degrees north, is found the source of this superb stream. It is said to issue out of the precipitous side of a lofty mountain, from beneath an arch 300 feet high, composed of deep frozen layers of snow, surrounded by icicles of gigantic magnitude. Such was, the mighty stream on which the good ship the Governor Harcourt was now floating.
On its eastern bank stands Calcutta, the City of Palaces as it is often called. My earliest recollections were of the clusters of columns, the long colonnades, and lofty gateways of its magnificent mansions. The residences are, for the most part, either entirely detached from each other, or connected only by long ranges of terraces, surmounted, like the flat roofs of the houses, with balustrades. The greater number of the mansions have pillared