The Translation of Harihara Sastry into Joseph Hariharan
TheStory of a Student Brahmin-Convert
Domestic food is wholesome though ‘tis homely.And foreign dainties poisonous though tasteful.
The French Courtesan
.ONE eventful evening in the life of our young hero, a respectable gentleman whosecountenance bore the stamp of seemingly three score was leisurely lounging on a recliningchair in the spacious hall of the second story of a handsome house, considered to be the best inthe pretty large and thickly populated Indian Village it was located in. Hoisted up in his hand wavered a newspaper held topsy-turvy; far off fixed his eyes most thoughtfully to the ceiling, bespoke a heavy heart within. There stood before him a lady of middle age with downward looks cast frowningly on the floor while rested her left hand on a table that bent beneath a few bundles of respectably worn sheets of paper besides an old Office-box with “R. NATESASASTRY,
.,” painted thereon. He was evidently convening with her on some momentousmatter.“Ay! ----------------Ay!” said Mr. Natesa Sastry with unusual resolution assuming atonce as if automatically lifted up an erect sitting postures and hauling in a lungful of air, “Ihave, my dear, made up my mind to send Hariharan to the metropolis ere the season grows afortnight older, and in time to meet the opening of the college.”“What,” interrogated Kamalam shaking off her limbs as if the whole had paralyzed them and standing straight, “Send him alone?”“Yes,” he answered agitatingly “yes ---- for the present we cannot risk residing in townnor can we ---““Does your
include me also? What! to live far from my darling! I ----I----I can’t”As she stammered the words, her right hand caught up the skirt of her
hanging inloose-elegance about her body and sponged off the briny dewy drops that had already began tocollect about her sparkling eyes that threatened a heavy shower should any thought more uponthe subject flash further in her mind. After a painful pause she calmly continued in an earnestimploring voice: