the
quaint little trio, Jeya, Jullanie, and Sella--this last is called
Cock-robin by the family, for she has eyes and manners which remind us
of the bird, and she hardly ever walks, she hops. Mala and Bala are in
the class, and a lively scamp called Puvai.
The kindergarten is worked in English, helped out with Tamil when
occasion requires. This plan, adopted for reasons pertaining to the
future of the children, is resulting in something so comical that we
shall be sorry when the first six months are over and the babies grow
correct. At present they talk with delightful abandon impossible to
reproduce, but very entertaining to those who know both languages. They
tack Tamil terminations to English verbs, and English nouns make
subjects for Tamil predicates. They turn their sentences upside down and
inside out, and any way in fact which occurs to them at the moment, only
insisting upon one thing: you must be made to understand. They apply
everything they learn as immediately as possible, and woe to the unwary
flounderer in the realm of natural science who offers an explanation of
any phenomena of nature other than that taught in the kindergarten. The
learned baby regards you with a tender sort of pity. Poor thing, you are
very ignorant; but you will know better in time--if only you will come
to the kindergarten, the source of the fountain of knowledge.
The ease and the quickness with which a new word is appropriated
constantly surprises us. As for example: one morning two babies wandered
round the Prayer-room, and, discovering passion-flowers within reach,
eagerly begged for them in Tamil. One of the two pushed the other aside
and wanted all the flowers. "Greedy! greedy!" I said reprovingly, in
English. "Greedy _mine_!" was the immediate rejoinder, and the little
hand was held out with more certainty than ever now that the name of the
flower was known. "Greedy _my_ flower! _Mine!_"
But some of the quaintest experiences are when the eloquent baby,
determined to express herself in English, falls back upon scraps of
kindergarten rhyme and delivers it in all seriousness. On the evening
before my birthday I was banished from my room, and the children
decorated it exactly as they pleased. When I returned I was implored not
to look at anything, as it was not intended to be seen till next
morning. Next morning the babies came in procession with their elders,
and while I was occupied with them out on the verandah, Chellalu an
|