hardly be persuaded to leave him night or day, even to get his khauna. He did every thing he could think of to please him, (and more, as he afterwards said, to please his dying master than his God:) he began to read his chapters with some diligence; and little Henry would lie on his couch, listening to Boosy as he read (imperfectly indeed) the word of God in Hindoostannee. Often he would stop him, to explain to him what he was reading; and very beautiful sometimes were the remarks which he made, and better suited
