[13] The career of Mr. Dadobhai Naoroji illustrates in a remarkable manner the operation of the system of education introduced under our government. A Parsi, born in Bombay of very poor parents, he received his education at the Elphinstone College, where he displayed so much intelligence that in 1845 an English gentleman, desirous to open up a new career for educated natives, offered to send him to England to study for the bar if any of the wealthy merchants of his community would pay half the expenses. But in those days the Parsis, like the Hindus, dreaded contact with England, and the offer fell to the ground. Dadobhai continued at the College, where he obtained employment as a teacher, and subsequently became professor of mathematics, no native having previously filled such a post. In 1845 he left scholastics and joined the first native mercantile house established in London. This firm commenced with great success, and Dadobhai no sooner found himself master of 5,000l. than he devoted it to public objects in his native city. The house of Messrs. Cama subsequently failed, and Dadobhai returned to Bombay, where, as above noted, he took an active part in municipal affairs, and was subsequently appointed Dewan to the Gaekwar. He is now carrying on business as a merchant on his own account in London. [14] _Rambles of an Indian Official_, 1844. [15] So long ago as the period when Colonel Sleeman wrote, the principle was fully established as to the moderation to be observed in the Government assessment. He says: "We may rate the Government share at one-fifth as the maximum and one-tenth as the minimum of the gross produce." (_Rambles of an Indian Official_, vol i. p. 251.) In the Blue Book laid before Parliament last Session on the Deccan riots, it will be seen that the Government share in the gross produce of those districts where a high assessment was supposed to have created the disturbances was only one-thirteenth. A COUP D'ETAT. If little seeds by slow degree Put forth their leaves and flowers unheard, Our love had grown into a tree, And bloomed without a single word I haply hit on six o'clock, The hour her father came from town; I gave his own peculiar knock, And waited slyly, like a clown. The door was open. There she stood, Lifting her mouth's delicious brim. How could I waste a thing so good! I took the kiss she meant for him. A moment on an awful brink-- Deep breath, a frown, a smile, a tear; And then, "O Robert, don't you think That that was rather--_cavalier_?" [_London Society._ THEATRICAL MAKE-SHIFTS AND BLUNDERS.