cquaintance with the poetry of Viharilal Chakravarti. His poems
appealed to me the most of all that I read at the time. The artless
flute-strains of his lyrics awoke within me the music of fields and
forest-glades.

Into these same pages I have wept many a tear over a pathetic
translation of Paul and Virginie. That wonderful sea, the breeze-stirred
cocoanut forests on its shore, and the slopes beyond lively with the
gambols of mountain goats,--a delightfully refreshing mirage they
conjured up on that terraced roof in Calcutta. And oh! the romantic
courting that went on in the forest paths of that secluded island,
between the Bengali boy reader and little Virginie with the
many-coloured kerchief round her head!

Then came Bankim's _Bangadarsan_, taking the Bengali heart by storm. It
was bad enough to have to wait till the next monthly number was out, but
to be kept waiting further till my elders had done with it was simply
intolerable! Now he who will may swallow at a mouthful the whole of
_Chandrashekhar_ or _Bishabriksha_ but the process of longing and
anticipating, month after month; of spreading over the long intervals
the concentrated joy of each short reading, revolving every instalment
over and over in the mind while watching and waiting for the next; the
combination of satisfaction with unsatisfied craving, of burning
curiosity with its appeasement; these long drawn out delights of going
through the original serial none will ever taste again.

The compilations from the old poets by Sarada Mitter and Akshay Sarkar
were also of great interest to me. Our elders were subscribers, but not
very regular readers, of these series, so that it was not difficult for
me to get at them. Vidyapati's quaint and corrupt Maithili language
attracted me all the more because of its unintelligibility. I tried to
make out his sense without the help of the compiler's notes, jotting
down in my own note book all the more obscure words with their context
as many times as they occurred. I also noted grammatical peculiarities
according to my lights.

(18) _My Home Environment_

One great advantage which I enjoyed in my younger days was the literary
and artistic atmosphere which pervaded our house. I remember how, when I
was quite a child, I would be leaning against the verandah railings
which overlooked the detached building comprising the reception rooms.
These rooms would be lighted up every evening. Splendid carriages would