From the time when the young Hindoo passes from the infant stage of "mewling and puking in the nurse's arms," till he goes to school, he is generally a bright-eyed, active, playful boy, full of romping spirits and a favourite of all around him. His diet is light, and his health generally good. He usually runs about for three or four years in puris naturalibus, and among the lower classes a string is tied round his loins with a metal charm attached to frighten away the evil spirits. When he attains the age of five, the period fixed by his parents for the beginning of his education, he is sent to a PÁtsÁlÁ (vernacular infant school) not, however, without making a Poojah to Saraswattee, the goddess of learning. On the day appointed, and it must be a lucky day, according to the Hindoo almanac, the child bathes and puts on a new Dhooty (garment) and is taken to the place of worship, where the officiating priest has previously made all the necessary arrangements. Rice, fruits, and sweetmeats, are then offered to the goddess, who is religiously invoked to pour her benediction on the head of the child. After this, the priest takes away all the things offered to the goddess, with his usual gift of one or two rupees, and the child is taken by his parents to the PÁtsÁlÁ and formally introduced to the GooroomahÁshoy, or master of the school. Curious as little children naturally are, all present gaze on the new comer as if he were a being of a strange species. But time soon wears off the gloss of novelty and everything assumes its normal aspect. The old boys soon become familiar with the new one, and a sort of intimacy almost unconsciously springs up amongst them. In this country a boy learns the letters of the alphabet, not by pronouncing them, but by writing them on the ground with a small piece of kharee, or soft stone, and copying them over and over again until he thoroughly masters them. Five letters are set him at a time. After this he is taught to write on palm leaves with a wooden pen and ink, then on slate and green plantain leaves, and, finally, on paper. At every stage of his progress he is expected to make some present to his master in the shape of food, clothes and money. A village school begins early in the morning, and continues till eleven, after which the boys are allowed to go home for their breakfast; they return at two, and remain in the school till evening, when all the boys are made to stand up in a systematic order, and one of the most advanced amongst them enumerates aloud the multiplication and numeration tables, and all are taught to repeat and commit to memory what they hear. By the daily repetition of these tables, their power of memory is practically improved. With a view to encourage the early attendance of the boys, a Gooroomahashoy resorts to the queer method of introducing the hathchory system into his PÁtsÁlÁ, which requires that all the boys are to have stripes of the cane in arithmetical progression, on the hand, in the order of their attendance, that is, the first comer to have one stripe, the second two, and so on, in consecutive order. The last boy is sometimes made to stand on one leg for an hour or so to the infinite amusement of the early comers. The system certainly has a good effect in ensuring early attendance.

The course of instruction in such schools embraces reading in the vernacular, a little of arithmetic and writing, and such as become capable of keeping accounts pass for the clever boys. Stupid and wicked pupils are generally beaten with a cane, but their names are never struck off the register, as is the case in English schools. Sometimes a truant is compelled to stand on one leg holding up a brick in his right hand, or to have his arms stretched out till he is completely exhausted. Another mode of punishment consists in applying the leaves of Bichooty (a stinging plant) to the back of a naughty boy, who naturally smarts under the torturing. The infliction of such cruel punishments sometimes leads the boys to make a combination against the master for the purpose of retaliation, which generally results in bringing him to his senses. Hindoo boys are extremely sensitive, and are very apt to resent any affront to which they are cruelly subjected by their master.[14] The rate of fee in a village school is from one to three-pence a head per month, but the master has his perquisites by way of victuals and pice. There is a common saying among the Hindoos that in twelve months there are thirteen parbuns, or school festivals, implying thereby, that they are encountered by a continuous round of parbuns. On every such occasion the boys are expected to bring presents for the master, and any unfortunate boy who fails to bring such is denied the usual indulgence of a holiday. Little boys are seldom fond of reading, they would gladly sacrifice anything to purchase a holiday. It is not an uncommon thing to find a boy steal pice from his mother's box in order to satisfy the demands of his master at the festival. The principle on which a village school is conducted is essentially defective in this respect. Instead of teaching the rules of good conduct and enforcing the first principles of morality, it often sadly defeats the primary object of a good education, namely, the formation of a sound, moral and virtuous character. It is a disgrace to hear a schoolmaster, whose conduct should be the grand focus of moral excellence, use the most vulgar epithets towards his pupils for little faults the effects of which are seldom obliterated from their minds, even in the more advanced period of their life. However, such days of obnoxious pedagogism are almost gone by, never to come back again, now that the system of primary education has been extended to almost every village in India, under the auspices of our liberal Government. Whilst on this subject I may as well state here that some forty years ago our Government had appointed the late Rev. William Adam to be the Commissioner of Education in Bengal. That highly talented and generous philanthrophist, after a minute and searching investigation, submitted in his report to Government a scheme of education very similar to what is now introduced throughout Bengal. The scheme was then ignored on account of its vast expense, and the Commissioner was so disheartened at the apathy of Government towards the education of the masses, that a few days before his departure from Calcutta he took a farewell leave of some of his most distinguished native friends, and his parting words were to the following effect: "Your Government is not disposed to encourage those who are its real friends." This reproach has, however, been subsequently removed by the adoption of a primary system of education. The spirit of the times and the onward progress of enlightened sentiments have gradually inaugurated a comprehensive scheme, which, although still limited in its range, embraces the moral and intellectual improvement of the people in general.

In Calcutta, when a boy is six years old, his parents are anxious to have him admitted into one of the public schools, where he has an opportunity to learn both the Vernacular and the English languages. He may be said from that day to enter on the first stage of his intellectual disintegration. The books that are put into his hands gradually open his eyes and expand his intellect; he learns to discern what is right and what is wrong; he reasons within himself and finds that what he had learnt at home was not true, and is led by degrees to renounce his old ideas. Every day brings before his mind's eye the grand truths of Western knowledge, and he feels an irresistible desire, not only to test their accuracy but to advance farther in his scholastic career. He is too young however, to weigh well everything that comes in his way, but as he advances he finds the light of truth illumine his mind. His parents, if orthodox Hindoos, necessarily feel alarmed at his new-fledged ideas and try to counteract their influence by the stereotyped arguments, of the wisdom of our forefathers, but however inimically disposed, they dare not stop his progress, because they see, in almost every instance, that English education is the surest passport to honor and distinction. In this manner he continues to move through the various classes of the middle schools till he is advanced to one of the higher educational institutions connected with the University, and attains his sixteenth or seventeenth year, which is popularly regarded as his marriageable age.