The writer of these lines commenced the study of English, about eleven years ago, under very trying circumstances-want of means and of clever, conscientious teachers. With the latter difficulty, he struggled on for about two years and a half; and then with almost a self-acquired knowledge of the elements, joined the Surat Mission School, under the superintendence of the late Rev. William Dixon, a very worthy gentleman from Belfast, and a scholar of brilliant promise. It was here, that some time after, the author began to at-tract notice by his predilection for English literature. Though he belonged to a lower class, special arrangements were inade for him to join his seniors, whenever a lecture on Shakspeare was expected; and as a return for the con-cession, he was required to explain the more difficult lines to those who could not follow the lecturer. It was very flattering, indeed, to an Indian of fourteen summers, to interpret lines of the Myriad-minded to men double his age; but he suspects his pupils spared the poor boy any very searching tests; or that, perhaps Heaven had spared those gentlemen the inconvenience of a critical or appreciative taste.
After a course of two years and six months here, the author was found qualified to present himself at the University Entrance Examination. And here ceased all the systematic education of which he can boast. His pride too was effectually humbled at this stage. Three times he failed at the Examination; and scraped through it the fourth time, by the barest chance. The reason, though not far to seek, need not be dis-closed here, as it hardly interests the readers.
In his own way, however, the author was not idle all this while. He has devoured, he believes, more poetry in one year than he could digest in five. Many of the British poets, Shakspeare, Byron, Shelley, Burns, Words worth, Keats and Campbell in particular, have long be-come his household gods. He worships them with a strong passionate heart-homage, and derives the chief happiness of life from them. Such a taste could not long remain with out its effects. At eighteen he felt an irresistible de-sire to make verses Acting upon the impulse, he multiplied lines upon lines, till in 1872, they grew to nearly five thousand. These lines were much liked by several competent judges, among the earliest of them, the Hon. Soraliji Shapurji Bengali, Rev. J. V. S. Taylor, Messer. Mansuklıram Suryaram, Ran-chhodbhai Udairam, and last but most, by the late Dr. Wilson; and mainly through the exertions of this good and great man, two successive editions were taken out in a short time. This book was written in pure Gujarati, Gujarati racy of the soil-a feat attempted by few and achieved by fewer Parsis. The Doctor was charmed with its success; and in a moment of generous pride, asked the author why he could not present H. R. H. the Prince of Wales, on the happy occasion of his visit to Bombay, with a few English verses, The idea took, and in a few weeks about six hundred lines were submitted to Dr. Wilson, who spoke very kindly of them, and held out high hopes of seeing them accepted by the illustrious Visitor.
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