A.D. 1877-1878
A BROWN AND WHITE ‘HAPPY FAMILY’
Though Miss Tucker had by no means fallen in love with Dalhousie during
her former visit to the Hills, she was again this August to be, as she
said, ‘almost trapped’ into going there. Mrs. Elmslie, albeit in need of
rest, could not leave a child in the Orphanage who was dangerously ill,
perhaps dying; and Miss Wauton, worn out with heavy toil through the
very hot weather, imperatively needed change, yet was in no condition to
manage the long distance alone. Miss Tucker therefore resolved to go with
her; and the two started off in company, Miss Tucker in her duli, Miss
Wauton on a pony. They travelled slowly, with frequent rests by the way,
so as to extend the usual two days’ hard journeying into six days of easy
advance. On August 22, before leaving Amritsar, Miss Tucker wrote:--
‘Man has been described as a “laughing animal,” “a cooking
animal,” to distinguish him from the lower creation. I
would suggest “a packing animal,” for neither birds nor
beasts--except the elephant--have anything to do with filling
trunks! What an amount of packing I have had in the last two
and a half years! Of course, these thoughts are suggested by my
present business of packing for the Hills.
‘One must be prepared for all sorts of weather, for burning
heat, bitter cold, or furious rain. One may have all three in
the course of a week. Then one must prepare--as for an attack
of cavalry--for a dinner-invitation from the Commissioner’s
wife. One is pretty certain that one will meet some worldly
folk, who are inclined to think Natives “niggers,” Converts
hypocrites, and Missionaries half-rogues and half-fools; so
that one must not “appear as a scrub.” I do not wonder that the
weary Emily wants to keep in the jungle as long as she can.
Ah! if we could but keep in the jungle _all_ the time, I need
not pack up my “Conference Cream,”[69] nor my faithful moire
antique. There would be some fun in meeting with a cheetah or
a hyena,--I should not like a bear unless there were a kud[70]
between us,--but I shrink from the world and his wife. However,
Missionaries, like sailors, are bound for all weathers....
‘If it won’t shock dear ----, I think that I must give you a
laugh over a funny little story, which was told me the other
day as a true one. A very attractive Scotch clergyman was
teased in the same way that the Energetic used to be. At last
a--one can’t call her _lady_, actually wrote to offer him “her
purse, her hand, and her heart.” The cream of the story is the
clergyman’s reply. He wrote to his silly sheep: “I advise you
to give your heart to God, your purse to the poor, and your
hand to him who asks for it.” Was it not clever? I hope that
the lady profited by the pastoral rebuke, though she can hardly
have enjoyed it....
‘Thanks for the paper about the Telephone. But I hope that we
may _not_ hear our Queen’s voice by it, if it is to sound like
a trombone.’
From Dinaira, a place some twenty-two miles short of Dalhousie, she
wrote:--
‘There is something more soothing to the eye in the softly
wooded mountains in which we are now cradled, than in the cold,
stern white peaks, seen higher up. The great want is water.
One sees the rough, almost precipitous, channels of mountain
torrents, but there is not a drop trickling in them. The land
suffers sorely from drought. The early crops were partly
spoilt by furious storms, the second crops are threatened with
destruction by the failure of the rains. A peasant saw me
yesterday very slowly getting down rather a rough bit, and with
kindly courtesy came and offered me the help of his brown hand.
He almost immediately afterwards began to speak of the want
of rain; it is the uppermost thought amongst the poor, dear
people....
‘I feel that I was rather ungrateful last year about
Dalhousie. Though I do not like the place much, it is a very
great blessing to have it.’
* * * * *
‘DALHOUSIE, _Sept. 3, 1877_.--This ought to be a good day for
letter-writing; for it is like an exaggerated November day in
England: rain more violent; wind more furious.... I amuse our
ladies by my indignation at one of our best hands, Miss H. of
J----, deserting us for matrimony. Merrily laughed the bonny
blue-bell at my proposition that, in addition to the fine of
£100 imposed on Mission Miss Sahibas who marry within three
years of coming out, it should be part of the contract that
they should have all their hair shaved off on the day before
the wedding. Don’t you approve, dear? In the Strathclyde,
beside Miss F. and myself, there were four Mission Miss Sahibas
going out for the first time. One of the four has gone home,
invalided; two have married; only my noble Miss G. remains
in the field! It is a great deal worse when experienced
Missionaries marry; we do not know how to supply their places....
‘You must not fancy that we have always weather like this in
the hills. When we first arrived, and for days afterwards, the
weather was lovely, July in the middle of the day, October at
night. The scenery was glorious. I hope, however, that I may
get back next week. I intend to travel rapidly, as I travel
alone.’
A few days afterwards saw Miss Tucker back in Amritsar; and later in
the same month she went all the long journey to Murree, giving herself
only six days of absence, to be present at the wedding of her nephew,
Louis Tucker. Thence she again returned to Amritsar. Exciting events had
happened at Amritsar during even that absence, in the shape of fresh
Baptisms and fresh persecutions. In October she was once more off on a
short itinerating tour through villages. A letter written on the first of
October refers to the Batala work, of which her heart was full.
‘Mr. Beutel told me with regret that Mr. Baring, on account
of low funds, had desired him on Nov. 1st to stop two
village-schools near Batala, in which 50 or 60 boys are
receiving instruction. I had my Laura’s £5--grown to £5,
10s.--half of her handsome gift, of which Margaret has the
other half. This will keep the village schools going till
April; and by that time, please God, others may send help....
People do not seem to care for _village_ schools. Government
does not. And the people--our dear Natives--are so anxious to
have them. The nicest boys seem the village ones.’
An undated letter belongs, probably, to about this time.
‘I think I mentioned to you that a troop of guests invaded my
poor Margaret almost in the middle of the night, 3 A.M. She
had too much bustle, too much discomfort. She fell ill, as was
almost to be expected; but I left her up again, and going to
work. When she was lying on her sick-bed,--lovely she looked,
with her soft pink cheeks, and her long golden hair hanging
loose,--I went and had a chat with her. She has had too few
chats with those whom she loves since going to live at the
Orphanage.... Says Margaret, “What caps are you going to take
to your nephew’s?” “Oh, killing caps,” said I. Perhaps they
would look killing if Margaret wore them! She would not believe
me,--her playful banter, her arch smile, so reminded me _of my
Laura_! Margaret went on exactly as you would have done. She
was certain that my velvet cap must want a new ruche; would
I send over a whole set of caps for her to improve? It would
amuse her, she said. The Doctor came in, when I was having
one of my playful chats with Margaret; and he highly approved
of my giving her a little laugh.... She called me “sparkling
champagne.” There is a fine name for a Missionary Miss Sahiba!
Fancy my discovering one day that, in her crowded little
dwelling, she had so emptied herself of needful comforts,
that she had not so much as a basin to wash in. If she wished
to wash her hands, she must stoop or kneel to perform the
ablution in her bath! Off went I to the city, and procured a
toilette-set for our house in Batala, which Margaret has the
use of till we go,--when I hope that she will return to the
Bungalow.’
The above must have been written before her visit to Murree, already
mentioned. By the middle of October she was on the point of again
starting for Batala; and she wrote cheerily beforehand, on the 15th:--
‘Many, many thanks to my own sweet Laura for the pretty sketch
of what was once to me a very happy home. I am so pleased that
your hand has not lost its skill. I am in great hopes that,
like myself, you may have renewed vigour as you walk down
the incline of life’s hill. My companions here wonder at me.
In another month I shall have been two years in India,--only
two months, journeys included, spent in the Hills; all the
remaining twenty-two in the Plains, with one peculiarly
unhealthy season, and another of unusually prolonged heat;--and
yet I am just as strong and well as if I had been just
sauntering about an English garden all the time....
‘I am considered to have a wonderful constitution; and as my
Laura is my own sister, I always hope that she has one also....
‘Take no fears about Batala. Fear is another thing with which
Missionaries should have nothing to do. It seems to me that
English folk in India rather change in character. I never
imagined the effect of being in a land like this, where you
belong to a conquering race. I must not just say that no one
seems afraid of anything, for that would be an exaggeration;
but physical courage seems to come quite naturally. Those
who might be timid girls in England fearlessly travel at
night, quite alone--save for the company of wild-looking
natives,--through lonely mountain-passes, perhaps through
lightning and storm, with the possibility of meeting cheetahs,
bears, and snakes. I feel no more afraid of being at Batala,
with or _without_ Mr. Beutel, than you would of sleeping in a
London hotel.’
FROM MRS. ELMSLIE TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘_Oct. 18, 1877._
‘I have just returned from seeing our darling off to Batala.
I know you will be sorry to hear she has gone there again;
and Miss Wauton, Mr. Clark, and I have tried hard to prevent
it,--in vain! She thinks it her duty to go, and she makes it
her pleasure. How we miss her here, I cannot tell you. She is
beloved and honoured by rich and poor, young and old. She is
our Sunshine. Her bright fancies, her quick perceptions, her
wise suggestions, are invaluable to all of us in the Mission.
‘While she frets over her want of power in speaking Urdu and
Panjabi, we are rejoicing, not only in her power of writing for
the people, but in her wonderful perception of the national
character, her insight into the weaknesses and also into the
virtues of our Native friends, Christian and heathen. Her
loving, unselfish ways are wonderfully soothing and sustaining;
and life has seemed to me a different thing since God brought
her to us.
‘She has been wonderfully free of fever during the past year;
and the excitability which used to make me anxious has quite
passed away. I think she has been looking quite lovely of
late; the expression of her dear face has been so restful, so
sweet, so angel-like. She has been a little less thin too, and
has been wearing more becoming caps and bonnets. We find it
necessary to look after her in such sublunary things; and many
a laugh she has at our anxiety about her appearance. You asked
me to tell you of anything she ever needs; and I think you may
like to know that she has no intermediate dress for everyday
use; nothing between the dark green cashmere and a very pale
kind of Chinese silk.
‘A light material of a rather dark grey colour, nicely made up
with a tunic bodice and belt, would be very useful to her. But
what would she say to me, if she thought I had written this?
Another thing is a _feather_ pillow. Such a thing is not to be
had in India; and her dear head is, I am sure, often tired. We
put our only one into her gari just now, hoping she would not
notice it. Off went her coach, and we were so pleased to think
it was with her, but she found it out before reaching the end
of the Avenue, and sent it back. If you could send one with a
coloured cover, it could do either on bed or sofa; and I think
it might be well to put her name on it in indelible ink, for
she is so very likely to give away such a desirable thing....’
* * * * *
C. M. T. TO MRS. E----.
‘BATALA, _Nov. 15, 1877_.
‘Where do you think the gay Mission Miss Sahiba has been
to-day? Never consider mine a monotonous life! Why, I have been
to a fair, a _mela_, as they call it here. I had never thought
of a lady’s going to a heathen fair; but two of our Mission
ladies are here for ten days, to conduct examinations in the
schools. Our valuable Miss Wauton said that she would like to
go to the mela. Of course, I would not let her go without a
lady companion; so we both accompanied Mr. Beutel in his light
covered cart, plunging over ruts in the kachcha road in fine
style.
‘It was a pretty sight. The weather was delicious. Numbers of
people in their picturesque costumes were threading their way
to the village of A----, white being the prevailing colour of
the men’s costumes, gay red that of the women’s, with a fair
sprinkling of green, a touch of yellow and blue, and here and
there a grand display of glittering gold. But we did not go
just to look at the folk, or to buy fairings either. Emily and
I went armed with books and pictures, to try and sow a little
good seed amongst the women, whilst Mr. Beutel and the two
Catechists preached to the men.
‘Mr. Beutel found a shady place for us, and Emily and I tried
to gather women around us. The men were curious, and wanted to
see and hear also. We could not secure an exclusively feminine
audience. It was a Hindu mela; and not many Muhammadans
seemed to be present, which made matters easier for us.... No
one objected to hearing as much about the Blessed Saviour as
we could tell them. Emily speaks Punjabi famously; I have only
about a thimble-full of it; so I chiefly listened to Emily, and
held the umbrella to shield her from the sun.
‘It was interesting to look at the faces, when Emily, with
admirable fluency, told the story of the Prodigal Son. At this
time her audience seemed to be principally Sikh men. They
crouched upon the ground around us, and listened with hearty
interest. Nowhere, either from men or women, did we meet with
any rudeness; nor did any one seem vexed with our describing
what our Lord had done for us....
‘The way in which Batala is opening out is marvellous. I go
from Zenana to Zenana, and have not by any means finished
paying all my _first_ visits!! Our Bible-woman thinks that
about _thirty_ Zenanas are open to her. I doubt that nearly
so many are open in the large mother-stations of Amritsar or
Lahore. We ought to have two or three clever, active, strong
Miss Sahibas here, instead of one elderly lady, who is slow at
both learning and teaching.
‘The two ladies from Amritsar are delighted with Batala. To-day
is, I think, the anniversary of my arrival in India; so I have
entered upon my third year! My Missionary life has, on the
whole, been a very happy one....’
TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘_Dec. 13, 1877._--The overland mail was particularly long in
arriving this time. I hoped that it would bring me something
particularly nice; and what should come to-day but your
dear loving letter, and the first halves of your munificent
contribution to our schools! How very kind and liberal my
Laura is! I had been speaking to Mr. Beutel but yesterday of
those two village schools, which would--from the lowness of
funds--have been dropped, but for your last handsome gift. I
was asking Mr. Beutel how far your Rs.55 would carry them on.
He replied--till past the beginning of March. Beyond that there
was no provision for them at all.
‘How delighted Mr. Beutel will be, on his return from Amritsar,
to hear that a bountiful supply has come in! I think it
better to apply your gift to the village schools, than to the
girls’ schools in Batala. The latter, I think, excite more
interest, and are not so likely to be in want of funds. These
poor village schools--since for retrenchment sake they were
cast off--are like waifs and strays. Government does not care
for village schools; the School Society cannot afford to
keep up half the desirable number. Mr. Beutel often receives
applications for new village schools, and is so much interested
in them that he and our Catechist have one between them....
‘We are to have a grand tamasha here at Christmas-time. Mr.
Beutel is going to gather, not only the boys of our Batala
Mission School, but boys from village schools. Of course, this
is not merely to give enjoyment, though the enjoyment will
probably be great, but to bring more forcibly before the lads
the tidings of great gladness. We are a little puzzled about
the poor little girls; as their cruel and absurd pardah rules
prevent the possibility of gathering them all together, even in
the Bible-woman’s house.’
The beginning of 1878 found Miss Tucker at Batala; and though once more
for a short time her work there was to be broken through, the spring of
this same year, as explained earlier, would see an end of the difficulty
which had attended her permanent residence in the place. The letter
to her sister, written on January 5th, is all through a particularly
characteristic one. A large amount will bear quotation.
‘The warm dress which you have so very kindly procured for me
has not yet arrived; but I should not wonder if it were here
on Monday or Tuesday.... We have been guessing of what colour
it will be. Mrs. J. and I both fixed upon grey, Mrs. Beutel
purple, and Mr. Beutel brown. Perhaps after all it will turn
out to be blue. I hope that I may have it in time to wear at
B.’s baptism, which I do hope may take place to-morrow week, if
some clergyman will only come from Amritsar. To this baptism I
look forward with joyful interest. B.’s white dress is probably
ready now. We like converts to wear pure white at baptism. I
intend to give J., the Bible-woman, a new skirt to wear on the
occasion; and I should like to wear something perfectly fresh
too....
‘I was in a Zenana to-day, which it is always a mental effort
to visit; but it is very interesting. Instead of talking to the
women there, I am certain to have one or two men, descendants
of the famous Guru Nanak, who engross the conversation with me
almost entirely.
‘The religion of the fine old fellow who is the principal
talker is a regular puzzle. He talks Panjabi; so you may
imagine how very difficult it is for me to understand him; and
he _wants to make me understand_. I do my best to do so. This
is what I gather of his views. S. is _not_ a Muhammadan; he
says that he is a Hindu; though by his birth he ought to be a
Sikh. He reverences Guru Nanak,[71] very properly, but thinks
that Guru Nanak has given religious tenets such as I am certain
that he never did. We have no reason to suppose that the
excellent Guru had ever heard of our Saviour. But S. propounds
doctrines that are amazing from the lips of a _Hindu_. He
believes in the one true God. He believes that a time of great
war and trouble will come; and that then Isa Masih (Jesus
Christ) will come like a flash of lightning, and become the
Ishar (Divine Lord) of all the Earth.
‘I had taken a Gurmukhi Testament with me. Neither of the men
seemed disposed to read it. I thought that perhaps neither
of them _could_; so I opened it myself, and chose a pretty
easy place. I had never read the Gurmukhi character in a
Zenana before. My old Sikh--for I cannot help considering him
one--listened very attentively, correcting my pronunciation
now and then. I did not venture to read much. Then he took
the Testament himself, and began to read it in regular Sikh
fashion, in a kind of measured chant, as if it were poetry. It
was clear that he _could_ read; so I left the precious Volume
as a loan in that house. May God bless it!...’
* * * * *
‘_Jan. 9, 1878._--Hurrah! the box has come! It is in process of
being opened.
‘Was I not a real witch? Did I not guess a grey dress? What an
elegant, ladylike, quiet costume! And so warm and comfortable!...
When I opened my tempting box, I thought of the dear fingers
which had been employed in putting it up! How very, very
kind you have been! So many, many thanks! And what loves of
cushions! You have remembered my weakness for cushions. Soft,
warm, and so pretty!... I am obliged to go to Amritsar, just for
a few days, as Mr. Clark and Margaret cannot come here; and we
must have a serious, prayerful discussion about what is really
very important, and too complicated for letters.... I see my
_own_ path clearly. I intend, please God, to stick by Batala.
My friends will not hear of my staying alone.... May God guide
us! Batala should NOT be abandoned.’
* * * * *
‘_Jan. 23._--I have come back from Amritsar, with nothing
settled, except that the Beutels are to go to Amritsar about
the middle of March. The Batala affairs have been much talked
over.... I earnestly hope that I may not have a third time to
retreat from Batala, for lack of a companion. We are beating
about for one, but it seems a hard thing to find, we are
so undermanned. Every one seems to acknowledge the great
importance of Batala....
‘As for its being unhealthy, I regard it as _more_ healthy than
either Amritsar or Lahore. The tank is a lovely tank, with no
bad smell; and when it is very full I can _see_ the current of
water flowing in on one side and out at the other. Fishes live
and jump about in it; and birds delight in its bright waters.
I have a better chance of keeping well through the hot weather
here than at the bungalow at Amritsar. This house is far better
built, with thick walls, lofty rooms, etc. But none of my
Missionary friends at Amritsar will listen to my staying here
alone. So I must just wait, and see what is God’s Will. He can
send me a companion, if He sees right to do so.’
* * * * *
‘_Feb. 7._--Perhaps you will be glad to hear that all our
attempts to find a companion for me at Batala have failed.
Poor ---- must go back to England; it was a mistake ever to
have sent out so delicate a lady. Miss ---- with whom I was
in treaty, is going home too. Mrs. ---- has been secured for
another station.... Perhaps I have been too ready to say to
myself, “There is no place on earth where I can be so useful
as at Batala.” I must come down a little, which is wholesome.
But I have not any sense of defeat; no, thank God,--every visit
to Batala, it seems as if fresh ground had been gained. The
waves retreat again and again, while the tide is advancing.... I
believe that a far better spirit, a spirit of kindness towards
us, a lessening of prejudice, a most encouraging readiness to
listen, is now spreading in Batala.[72] Maulvi Z. felt the
difference. B--n feels the difference. I believe that there
will be _real_ regret at our leaving Batala. Dear B--n!... I had
brought for B--n’s children two gay little coverlets.... B--n
took them and wrapped them round the plump little girls as
chaddahs. I think that he was quite pleased....
‘Oh, did I tell you--I told somebody--about my other Brahmin;
the elderly man who prays by the side of our tank? I have
repeatedly spoken to him in my indifferent Panjabi; and I
spoke to my nephew, R. Bateman, about him, when he was here
for two days. So on one of the mornings I see my nephew seated
beside my Brahmin close to the tank, with only a handkerchief
round his delicate head. His old Auntie soon supplied him with
an umbrella. R. Bateman gave me afterwards an account of the
Brahmin’s strange view of religion. One can hardly imagine a
mind in which the whole visible creation is regarded as God.
The Brahmin had no idea of _sin_; he had _never seen it_, he
said,--as if it were a thing like a stone or a tree!
‘I saw the poor fellow by the tank yesterday morning, and went
out and spoke to him. I invited him to come to morning prayers.
Rather to my surprise, the dear man really did come. He must
be a wondrously meek Brahmin; for he seated himself on the
floor amongst the servants, labourers, etc., apparently quite
forgetful of the tremendous difference between their castes and
his own. Mr. Beutel makes morning family prayers almost like
a regular service. He not only reads the Bible, but expounds.
I had asked him, for my Brahmin’s sake, to make his address
as Punjabish as possible; so he stuck in Punjabi words where
he could. My Brahmin looked very attentive. He has a sort of
childlike readiness to listen, looking full at you when you
speak; and his face quite brightening as if with pleasure when
you talk of a Saviour. It must be all so strangely new to him!
I wonder if he will come again....
‘To-day I went to two new houses,--I have such a number to go
to! When I sang of the Saviour’s invitation, to a Hindu, not
only did she seem to listen attentively, but I saw her wiping
moist eyes.
‘Margaret and E. Clay intend coming here the day after
to-morrow for two days.... I must not dwell on parting with
Margaret.[73] I rejoice in the happiness which I hope she will
enjoy. She has worked long and very hard.... No doubt there are
some wise and merciful reasons for sending me away from Batala.’
* * * * *
‘BATALA, _Feb. 14_.--Another curious phase in my strange,
strange life! I told you or dear Leila of the idea of the
Boys’ Orphanage being brought here. That idea was knocked on
the head; but another is taking such shape that it is likely
enough that I shall find myself, not exactly planted in, but on
the top of--and underneath also--_another_ boys’ school! The
Rev. F. Baring, the Bishop of Durham’s son, has fallen in love
with Batala, and has set his heart on buying this house from
Government, for a Boarding-school for Christian Native Boys.
‘We have no wish, however, to lose our hold of our beautiful
palace as a station for the Zenana Mission; so it is likely
that, if Mr. Baring succeed in buying Anarkalli, he will allow
our Mission to rent from him, on easy terms, that part of the
house which we now occupy (by we I mean myself), with the
addition of the drawing-room and part at least of the grand
dining-room. Dear, good Babu Singha and his wife and family
will probably live in another part of the palace, he being
Under-Superintendent of the School!!
‘Here’s a brown and white Happy Family for you! Natives and
Europeans can hardly chum together; yet it would be absurd
to have _three_ cooks for us. The present idea is for Mr.
Baring and me to chum, _till_ I am joined by any young lady.
Mr. Baring ... is quite happy with me, because of my venerable
age, which I have found such an advantage in India. He asked
me to-day to have him as a nephew! How rich I am in these
dharm-nephews,--to say nothing of the real ones! Now I have
_five_; one of them being my Afghan, and the others four of
the most valuable clergymen in the Panjab Mission.[74] Henry,
my Afghan boy,[75] you must know. He is the youngest of all my
dharm-nephews.
‘Now, what does my sweet Laura say to my plans--and my family?
I like you to know all my nephews.... I have more nieces even
than nephews; but you have had enough of my dharm-family for
the present. Mr. Clark wanted me to take him in too. If he had
asked to be a _brother_, I should have welcomed him; but I
really could not have as a nephew one to whom we look up as a
head-pastor, a kind of bishop! I don’t think that my nephews
should be more than forty years old.’
* * * * *
‘AMRITSAR, _Feb. 23, 1878_.--Here I am again in dear old
Amritsar.... I know that you will be curious to hear how the
Batala school plan progresses. Well, we are waiting to hear
what our saintly new Bishop says to it. In a matter of such
importance it is right to wait for the advice of such an
Apostolic man.... I wait passively. There is plenty of work for
me at Amritsar, more than I can do at all properly....
‘You see, Laura darling, there are quantities of Aunts in
England; but an old Auntie is a rare bird in India, and
therefore in request. I am like a hen with such a large brood!
‘Dearest Margaret will be much missed. Many, many, both English
and Natives, love her.... The Native Christians have quietly
subscribed for a shawl for her Mother, as a token of their
grateful love. I think the Natives very affectionate. People
talk of their being ungrateful; but those who talk so have
perhaps never _earned_ their gratitude. If you love them, they
love you! They are very sensitive, both to kindness and to
unkindness....’
TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.
‘_March 4, 1878._
’ ... Missionary work can be just as truly done in England as
in India; but only a few of the dear workers _can_--without
forsaking other duties--come out so far as the Panjab. Those
who come here should be strong also, physically as well as
mentally suited for the peculiar work and trying climate....
‘There are plenty of poor in Amritsar, as well as Batala. I
went to Mrs. Clark’s yesterday, at the large Mission House.
In her garden were quantities of poor folk; between three
and four hundred, counting children. A Catechist preached to
them first; and then a great number of chapatties, a kind of
thick flat cake, of very simple make, with a small quantity
of dal,[76] was handed round and distributed. Adults had two
chapatties each; children one. Mr. Clark had had a Brahmin to
cook, for Hindu beggars would not otherwise have liked the
food, and Muhammadans do not object to a Brahmin’s cooking.
Station-people subscribe to help in the distribution of this
food....
‘Mr. Clark and my new nephew, Mr. Baring, have gone to Lahore
to see our new Bishop.[77] He is known to be such a saint,
that thanksgivings have been offered again and again for his
appointment.’
TO MRS. J. BOSWELL.
‘_March 4, 1878._
‘Is poor, dear ---- going to remain in the same house, so full
to her of sad memories? People feel so differently on this
subject. Some cling to the spot where they have loved and
sorrowed,--others fly from it. I should never like to cross
the threshold of No. 3 again. I am rather pleased that it has
another number now. There is _no_ 3 Upper Portland Place now.’
TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘_March 8._--I can fancy the request to have my letters
directed to Batala has excited a little curiosity. It really
seems likely that our comical arrangement will be carried out;
and that I and my nephew will find ourselves chumming together
in the midst of a Boys’ School!!
‘The Panjab is eager to have a boys’ school for young Christian
Native gentlemen. The Bishop approves. Our boys are to pay
Rs.5 a month. This may cover food expenses, but of course not
the expense of first-class teaching. Batala is to have this,
the nucleus of a future Panjabi Eton or Harrow (if it please
God to prosper it), the training-place for our clergymen,
lawyers, and merchants. I am _not_ to be Matron. I am the sole
representative--European--of our Ladies’ Zenana Society; but it
would be strange if I lived in the same building with the dear
boys, and took no interest in them. It is probable enough that
I shall find myself playing at Oxford or Cambridge, or giving a
music-lesson to young Panjabis. A comical idea suggests itself.
I have a large family of new Nephews and Nieces in India. Am I
to have a whole troop of brown Grandnephews in perspective!!!
Don’t fancy them ugly savages. Many will probably be winsome
enough,--bright, attractive, and courteous.
‘Good Babu Singha and his excellent wife will probably be in
the house, but not chum with Europeans....
‘Only imagine my darling Laura dreaming of coming to Egypt to
meet me!! But I doubt her being up to such a journey; and mine
would be about as formidable a one. But the dream is one of
“old,” not “young Love”!’
* * * * *
‘_March 15._--Now, darling, to answer your objections to my
spending the hot season at Batala.... I doubt that the risk to
health from climate will be at all greater at Batala than
at damp Amritsar. Always remember, love, that at the former
place I am high above the ground, while at the latter I am on
it. This makes an immense difference. The large inner room at
Batala would be cooler than any room here....
‘I intend to take my large harmonium to Batala. It may be of
immense use there. I suppose that I shall have charge of all
the music; for I do not believe that either my Bhatija (nephew)
or the Singhas know anything about it. It is of _immense_
importance. Mr. R. told me yesterday that the Rev. C., perhaps
the most valuable convert in all the Panjab (he is a Bengali),
was first brought to Christ by listening to Church music. It
carried his soul away! I wish that I were more competent for
the charge; but I must hope and pray that God may bless my
little attempts to serve Him by music. I am so thankful that
age has not affected my voice; at least, it does not seem to me
to have done so.’
The latter fact would tell little. People in advancing years are seldom
able to judge of their own voices. Others, however, speak of the unusual
manner in which Miss Tucker’s voice lasted. It had never been one of much
power or sweetness; but she had always had a sensitive ear, and had sung
well; and to the end she still sang in tune, even when the voice itself
became cracked with age.
One other point in the above may be noted. Miss Tucker was throughout
anxious to make the best of her beloved Batala; and undoubtedly this was
a case of ‘making the best.’ If Amritsar was damp, so also must Batala
have been,--at all events, in the seasons of heavy floods, when it was
often impossible to get about, from the state of the roads. There were
times when Anarkalli was all but a veritable island, in the midst of a
kind of lake. This could hardly be regarded as healthy, while it lasted.
TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.
_March 28, 1878._
‘I am to have my “pen,” about which my dharm-nieces joke a
great deal. Mera Bhatija[78] is going to cut a slice off his
magnificent dining-room, to make a cool retreat for the Auntie.
As a bamboo-screen right across would be very unsightly, if
seen in its bareness, I am going to have mine covered on both
sides. Fancy a screen, twenty feet long and six feet high! I
have been very fortunate in securing a most suitable cloth for
the cover. A bedroom chintz would have looked quite out of
character, but I have bought a native cloth, with an Oriental
pattern, very tapestry-like, old-fashioned conventional flowers
and birds on a blue ground. It is such a pattern as one might
see in a picture, and will not destroy the effect of the
Oriental hall. Every one who saw it at once fixed upon it as
_the_ thing....
‘Emily has ordered eight chairs for my rooms,--I had two of
my own,--and your beloved Mother knows that I am splendidly
supplied with cushions; such dainty cushions! I like my rooms
to look rather nice, as young Panjab may get an extra polish,
if admitted to an English lady’s drawing-room.’