A.D. 1878
PERSECUTIONS
Once more Miss Tucker settled down in Batala--for life! She would only
leave the place again for her short and well-earned holidays; and at the
last for her passing away.
During many years her home was still to be in the quaint old palace,
described by others as draughty, weird, forlorn, desolate; though she
herself so resolutely looked upon the discomforts of the old building
through rose-tinted glasses. But its dreary aspect was soon to be
changed. The bright faces of Panjabi lads, the merry voices of Panjabi
scholars, were to fill with fresh life those big and empty rooms. ‘The
Baring High School,’ as it was called, had its first existence in the
shape of a small boarding-school at Amritsar, which Mr. Baring decided
to remove to the palace at Batala. About fifteen boys were, in the
beginning, at Anarkalli,--described by A. L. O. E. as ‘our choicest young
Natives, converts or descendants of converts; one is the grandson of a
martyr!’ These boys or their friends paid fees, when they could, which
was not always; and the fees, though perhaps sufficient to cover their
food, were by no means sufficient to cover the cost of a good education.
From the spring of 1878 Mr. Baring resided there, as C.M.S. Honorary
Missionary, with control of the Boys’ School, which indeed had been
started mainly at his own expense; while Babu Singha worked under him as
the Master of the School. Miss Tucker, as she stated in her letters, held
no such post as that of Matron. Her position was entirely independent,
being that of Honorary Zenana Missionary. She paid for her own rooms
and her own board in the Palace, and regarded Zenana visiting, and the
writing of small books for Indian readers, as her prime occupations. But
for Charlotte Tucker to live under the same roof with all those boys, and
not to give them loving interest, not to attempt to teach or influence
them, would have been a sheer impossibility.
Another Boys’ School had been started in Batala, which must not be
confounded with the above. The Baring High School was--and is--distinctly
for the education of Indian Christian boys. The Mission School, known
later as ‘The Plough,’--Miss Tucker recognising strongly that this early
stage of work in Batala could only be compared to a farmer’s ploughing
of his fields,--was for Indian boys, not yet Christian. They received
Christian teaching; and when a boy in the Plough School became a convert,
he was passed on usually to the High School. The very starting of this
‘Plough School’ was due to Miss Tucker’s liberality. Out of her own purse
she generously paid the main part of its expenses.
We must turn again to her letters, with all their curiously fresh,
_young_ eagerness and enjoyment, to realise what her life was at this
time. Charlotte Tucker might call herself ‘old,’--she was very fond of
doing so on every possible occasion; but certainly none of the weight of
age had as yet descended upon her spirits.
TO SIR W. HILL.[79]
‘BATALA, _April 13, 1878_.
‘We hope next Sunday to have a Baptism in our lovely little
lake; and we have been practising baptismal hymns to sing on
the joyful occasion. We had some anxiety about our young
convert.... He went to Amritsar on business; and at the time when
we expected his return he did not come back.
‘What could have happened? Had the dear youth been seized by
his Muhammadan relations? Such things do happen; the danger is
a very real one. It is often no easy matter to confess Christ
in India. Mr. B., who was here, wrote off a note to a Christian
Maulvi in Amritsar to search for the lad. He did so, and found
him, and brought him here in safety last night; but not before
---- had had a painful time of it in Amritsar.
‘I looked with interest on that Christian Maulvi, as he sat in
our drawing-room, conversing with the English Missionaries....
_He_ has known well enough to what dangers a convert may be
exposed; for he has experienced them.... He was the first of
his family to take up the Cross. His Muhammadan neighbours
formed the fiendish design of _burning him alive in his house_.
They piled up his clothes, etc., in an under room. He was
sleeping above. The Muhammadans set fire to the pile; and the
clothes, etc., were quickly consumed; but the fire did not,
as was intended, set the whole house in a blaze. The ceiling
was charred; that was all; and the Christian slept unharmed,
watched over by the Eye that never slumbers nor sleeps.’
About this time A. L. O. E. wrote home to another quarter:--
‘Yesterday a letter arrived from the schoolmaster of O---- with
tidings that a lad of fifteen has had the courage to declare
to his friends his desire to become a Christian. The natural
result of such a declaration has followed,--the young confessor
has been beaten. It is no small matter to stand up thus openly
for Christ in a heathen village. The lad may have to endure
much. I have seen one who was made to stand in boiling oil by
his own father, to hinder him from going to the Christians.
Whether the O---- boy’s conversion has been the result of the
Good Friday expedition we know not; but whether it be so or
not, the lad claims our sympathy and interest. We shall try
to bring him here, to the Batala Boarding-School, where he
may at least receive food and protection. “It is a refuge,”
said our Christian Maulvi to me yesterday, glancing up at the
goodly building raised by the Maharajah Shere Singh, who little
dreamed that he was preparing in it a home for a Christian
Natives’ Boarding-School, and also for the ladies of a Zenana
Mission. I am at present the sole English Agent of the latter
Society here.’
TO MRS. E----.
‘_May 10, 1878._
‘You may like to hear a little more about our School of young
Panjabis, as it is rather a curiosity.
‘My nephew, Mr. Baring, has succeeded in making these young
Natives like not only cricket, but gardening. We are to have
a Horticultural Exhibition in August, when prizes are to be
given for the best flowers and fruit. Considering that the
gardens are all on ground _redeemed from the lake this year_,
it will hardly be expected that the show will equal one in the
Botanical Gardens. But oh, you should see our glorious pink
water-lilies! They grow wild in the water, and would be a sight
anywhere.
‘I want the boys also to take to intellectual games. I am much
pleased at having succeeded in making one nice lad compose two
Sunday enigmas. I by no means despise this small beginning
of authorship. Sunday enigmas greatly increase knowledge of
Scripture, and also help to make the holy day pass pleasantly.
There is a great deal of singing here also; and such a lovely
text for our Chapel wall is now almost ready.... Our dear lads
cannot, as ---- did, give a beautiful pulpit, but I think that
they take a pride and pleasure in their Chapel.
‘It will look rather pretty, I hope, with its white walls,
and striped pardahs of red and white, and the pretty blue
ecclesiastical-looking carpet which is promised for it. A
_Baptismal Register Book_ is ordered. I want a large one! God
grant that it may fill up rapidly. We shall require a cemetery
too, and have rather set our hearts on a pretty mango tope[80]
at a suitable distance from, but not quite in sight of, the
house.’
* * * * *
‘BATALA; _my beloved Laura’s Birthday, May 20, 1878_.
‘On this day of all days in the year I could not but write to
my own precious sister, even if I had not such a nice, long,
interesting letter to thank her for, as I received yesterday....
‘Like you, I earnestly hope that the Almighty will preserve
our dear land from the fearful evil of war. You and I would
scarcely now care to sing--
‘“In the proud battle-fields
Bounding with glee.”
‘How little realisation the juvenile writer had of what war
is!... _We_ are in another kind of warfare here. This living in
the First Century, instead of the Nineteenth, seems to give a
more vivid colour to life. I suspect that I should find some
Missionary stations so dull after one like this! Such as those
where year after year passes without an adult baptism being
witnessed,--hardly expected,--perhaps in some instances hardly
_hoped_ for!... The fact is that it needs some moral courage in
the Missionary, as well as all sorts of courage in the Convert,
to face the storm that may follow a baptism.
‘One feels almost ashamed of remaining in such perfect
security,[81] when encouraging a poor brown brother or sister
to go up, as it were, to the cannon’s mouth. I was thinking
to-day what would be the _most_ painful sacrifice which one
could make. It seemed to me that of the _love and esteem of
all our dear ones_. And that is just the sacrifice which some
of our brethren have to make! No wonder that they hesitate,
weep, shrink from the flood of sorrow before them; but the
true-hearted ones make the plunge at last. “The love of Christ
constraineth.”
‘The enclosed to ---- will give you an idea of some people’s
trials; but ever and anon new cases seem to crop up. I expect
that our fair Batala will be a kind of harbour of refuge
to hunted ones. Mera Bhatija has been telling me that a
Missionary--I forget where--is about to have a Baptism, and
wants to send the new Christian over to us for a week, to let
the storm blow over a little. Another lad was all packed ready
to come, but he was caught. He means to take the opportunity of
escaping when he can....
‘Mera Bhatija and I are curious to see the Rainbow glass.
Perhaps, if it be small, I may show it off in the Zenanas. New
and curious things give much pleasure. From a little round
pin-cushion of mine the pretty glass picture of a Cathedral
came off. I often take it with me, and show it, and say, “This
is an English Church, in which God is praised every day!” Mere
prints do not take with the Natives. They like coloured things
that glitter.’
TO MRS. J. BOSWELL.
‘_May 21, 1878._
‘It is wonderful to me how an English lady can go without fear
or danger all about Batala, meeting with so much respect and
courtesy. I do not feel it the slightest risk. Into narrow
lanes, up dark staircases,--amongst women, amongst men,--I go
without the smallest excuse for being alarmed. The people,
too, generally listen very quietly, though what is said may
be dead against their views. I make the slender concession
of calling Muhammad “Mr. Muhammad”--“Muhammad Sahib”--but no
one could object to so common a title. He is never called
“Hasrat”--Saint--like Moses and David.’
TO THE SAME.
‘_May 29, 1878._
‘Three new boys have arrived to-day. I am glad that they did
not come till I had pretty well learned up the first seventeen,
tacking the right names to the right faces. It took me a good
while to do this, for I have a difficulty in remembering faces....
‘The Natives who send their boys to this upper-class school
are of course anxious that the lads should be good English
scholars. At this time of high-pressure education it is
necessary that they should be so. Mr. Baring drudges day after
day at the English classes; but it occurred to me that I could
give a little help in play-hours. I have written an English
charade for our young Panjabis to recite; and the idea has, I
think, taken with them. It needed a little management to give
a separate part to every one of seventeen boys, apportioning
it to the individual’s capacity. Pretty little P. (five years)
could not be expected to manage more than a line and a half;
but it would never have done to have left him out. Into each of
the three divisions of the charade I have introduced a lively
chorus, in which all can join. The song that takes most is--
‘“I am a brisk and sprightly lad,
But newly come from sea, sir!”
‘This is rather curious, as none of our Punjabis have ever seen
the sea. The chorus will be first-rate practice for rapid,
clear pronunciation; for
‘“When the boatswain pipes ‘All hands aloft!’”
would not be an easy line even for some English boys. If the
lads manage tolerably well, the charade will be great fun. Who
would ever have dreamt that part of a Missionary’s work should
be to set boys to learn a lively charade!
‘I pity the City boys. I suspect that there is a sort of
wistful longing raised in many a young heart, “I wish I were
one of those Christian boys!” If there could be a blind ballot
of Batala boys, as to whether the whole town should become
Christian, I am by no means sure whether the votes would not
be in our favour. I do not mean that the poor, dear lads are
_converts_, but that they use their eyes and ears,--and think
that ours must be a very pleasant, genial kind of religion,
connected in some sort of way with singing, and cricket, and
kindness.’
Another short English play, written by Miss Tucker for the boys, was
called _The Bee and the Butterfly_. Miss Mulvany, a Missionary, went one
day, somewhere about this time, to Batala for a few hours; and in the
course of her visit she was sent upstairs, while Charlotte Tucker gave
the boys a lesson in acting the said little play. Miss Mulvany has never
lost the impression made upon her by the peals and shouts of laughter
which came up from the merry company below.
TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘_June 19, 1878._
‘I am reading the Granth,[82] the sacred book of the Sikhs.
Like the Koran, it is very long,--I think more than 600 quarto
pages,--and with an immense deal of repetition in it. But it
leaves on the mind a very different impression from the Koran.
As far as I have read, it is wonderfully pure and spiritual. If
you could substitute the name “Almighty” for “Hari,” and “Lord
Jesus” for “Guru,”[83] it might almost seem the composition
of hermits in the early centuries, except that celibacy is
not enjoined. Woman seems to be given her proper place. Many
exhortations are addressed to women....
‘There is something touching in the longing--the
yearning--after God,--the intense love of His Name! The Sikh
idea of God is not that of the Hindus, with their fiend-like
deities. The Creator is light, and goodness, and happiness.
There is indeed the ridiculous idea of people having to pass
through 840,000 states of existence,--unless the probation be
shortened by meditation, purity, and the repetition of God’s
name,--but this fearful number of births is regarded as very
tiresome indeed.
‘One might call the Granth “the book of yearning,” and I feel
humiliated that I, with Gospel light, should in spiritual
contemplation and longing for closest communion with the Deity
come so far behind these poor Sikhs. Unfortunately, the Sikh
religion has been so much corrupted that it is almost dying
out. I suppose that it was too pure to please the Enemy;
he knew that the Granth would offer no strong opposition to
the Bible. Here, in Batala, his stronghold seems to me to be
Muhammadanism. It shocks me to find how that invention of
Satan darkens the moral sense. What would be thought sin in
another, is by some openly defended as no sin _if committed by
Muhammad_!!
‘The Muhammadans too are so ready to stand up for their false
faith; far more inclined to defend it than the Hindus are to
defend theirs. Mera Bhatija was saying to-day that no book has
been written against Christianity by a Hindu. I have myself,
however, seen a very bitter article in a paper. But, generally
speaking, the Muhammadans seem to be much sterner opponents of
Truth than the Hindus. I feel it in the Zenanas.
‘Now, my own Laura, I am going to my long task of reading
the Granth. It puts me on vantage-ground when I can tell the
Natives that I have read their Scriptures.’
The High School was not to have broken up before the middle of August;
but circumstances caused Mr. Baring to fix upon a fortnight earlier,
and this decided Miss Tucker to go to Amritsar on July 28. She at once
planned that two of the hard-worked ladies at the Mission bungalow should
then take their holiday, while she remained as a companion to the third.
It does not appear that she had any idea of the Hills for herself. No
doubt the change to Amritsar would mean pleasure, if not rest; and
she was still able to speak of herself as ‘wonderfully well’; but the
unselfish thought for every one else, rather than of her own needs, is
not the less remarkable.
To one of her correspondents she wrote from Batala on the 6th of July:
‘You know that I am the only Englishwoman within twenty miles. Now and
then friends pass a night here; but in the hot weather not often....
The 29th will, if I stay till then, complete sixteen weeks of steady
residence, during which I have only twice seen English ladies,--for less
than twenty-four hours. I doubt whether any European has ever stopped
in Batala so long before without a single night’s absence.... Once from
Friday evening to Monday morning I saw no white face. There is a nice
brown lady in the house.’[84]
At Amritsar she found herself as usual in the midst of engrossing
interests. Fresh Baptisms were taking place; and about these she wrote to
Mrs. Hamilton on the 21st of August, describing one just past:--
‘There was a sweet-looking woman, D., a convert from Hinduism,
and her two dear little girls. Her husband, who is not brave
enough, or perhaps not sufficiently led towards Christianity,
to follow her example, saw her depart for church. “You know
that she is going to be baptized,” said Emily. “Yes, yes,”
was the reply. “You must be kind to her, and receive her
back.” The man made no objection,--even to his two children
being baptized; though he had formerly put obstacles in the
way. There was a fourth, a convert from Muhammadanism, T.,
whose baptism was the most interesting of all.... The clergyman
subjected the poor girl to the ordeal of a severe examination.
She had never probably spoken to an Englishman before; and it
would have been no wonder had she flinched or faltered. But
she, who has already been beaten at home for Christ’s sake,
showed no sign of weakness. Her answers came clear and firm.
“Is it because of Miss Wauton’s speaking that you come?” “No,
it is because of my heart’s speaking.”
‘The miseries and persecutions that may be coming upon her were
almost, I think, _too_ faithfully set before her. “If they were
even to kill me, as they did M.’s father, what fear?” said the
dauntless girl....
‘I remarked to ----, on my return from the baptism, that I
thought that the Indian women were braver than the men. He
quite agreed; he knows that _he_ dare not come forward like D.
and T. Our noble N. is, we believe, a Christian at heart, and
we know other men of whom we think that the same might be said,
but they linger and linger, and _dare_ not yet ask for baptism.
Here this year in Amritsar we have had five women, and last
year two, who, in the face of what we might have considered
almost insurmountable obstacles, have bravely confessed Christ
in baptism. It must be much harder for them than for the men,
but they seem to have more courage, or more faith.’
Several weeks later another reference in home-letters is found to
the brave girl, mentioned above: ‘By last accounts dear T. is holding
out nobly. We are not allowed to see her; but I hear that one or more
Maulvis[85] have been brought to try to argue the young maiden out of her
faith. But she tells them that they may read to her all day long, but
they never will change her. They say that Christianity is ‘written on her
heart,’--what a testimony from Muhammadans!--and that the ladies must
have bewitched her. It reminds me of Lady Jane Grey in prison; for dear
T. _is_ a prisoner.’
Plans did not fit in as Miss Tucker had intended. Once more she found
herself called upon to act escort to a sick Missionary, who had to go
to the Hills, and was not well enough to travel alone. Miss Wauton
could not just then be spared from Amritsar, and she appealed to the
‘Auntie,’ whose readiness to help in any emergency was by this time well
understood. ‘It seems as if by some fatality I must go each year to
Dalhousie,’ Charlotte Tucker said in one letter, adding, ‘But I hope to
return back in a few days.’ Then, in allusion to a scheme that she should
join her nephew at Murree in September, ‘I do not propose staying long.
After sixteen weeks of unbroken residence at Batala, behold me rushing up
and down hills like a comet.’
TO MISS L.V. TUCKER.
‘_Aug. 14, 1878._
‘We are to have a Confirmation here on the 3rd of November.
I should be much tempted to come up from Batala to witness
it, particularly if any Batala Christians are confirmed. I am
afraid that ----‘s wife will shrink from breaking pardah,--that
nonsensical pardah, which is a real snare to some baptized
bibis.... There is one dear baptized young bride in Batala, whom
I have not seen, but hope to search out on my return. The brave
girl dared to be baptized in Amritsar, but was then carried off
by her husband to Batala, and we know not in what part she is.
She is likely to be having a hard time of it, but it is quite
right in her to be with her husband....’
Writing home, she described drolly her absence from Batala as--‘this
strange episode of my life;--seven weeks acting Superintendent of the
Orphanage,--three of those weeks sole Missionary at Amritsar,--and--oh,
bathos! ten days an ayah--for I had none other.’ Still her health seemed
to keep good. She could stand the plains in hot weather as scarcely
another Missionary was able to do. While one and another broke down, and
had to be off to the Hills, Miss Tucker kept about, much the same as
usual, filling up as far as possible the gaps left by others.
She was full of ardent sympathy at this time for certain converts from
Muhammadanism, undergoing severe persecutions, and was much distressed at
the difficulty of doing anything for them. She even formed a daring plan
for carrying off one brave young girl from her relatives, and taking her
to a safe distance; and Miss Tucker was with difficulty dissuaded from
a scheme which others of longer experience knew too well might lead to
serious complications.
Another, a wife, and also her daughter, were at this time in frequent
peril, because they had become Christians in heart, and were earnestly
desiring Baptism. The husband, a Muhammadan, would sometimes sit between
the two, sharpening a knife, and threatening to stab them. Once he
violently seized the daughter by her throat. Life with them must have
been one long unhappiness; yet Miss Tucker, after an interview with the
poor wife, could describe her as looking ‘_worn_, but so bright and
brave.’
In September she was at Murree, helping to nurse her niece, and to take
care of the tiny baby,--which latter occupation, she wrote, was ‘more
formidable to an old maiden Aunt than conversing in Urdu with a learned
Maulvi, or doing the agreeable to a Rajah, would be.’
Of the place itself she said: ‘Murree is not a cheering place to a
Missionary.... One sees numbers of Natives; but how is one to tell the glad
tidings? I feel like a doctor with multitudes of sick around him,--and he
cannot get at his medicine-chest. I have brought Urdu religious books; I
find no good opportunity of giving even one away.’
October saw her once more in the spot where she loved to be, writing
joyously home--
‘Here I am, in my own Station again, and glad to be back. I
find that our little Christian flock has been increasing in
a very encouraging way during my absence. There was a nice
little round of visits to pay to Christian families.[86] Those
who had been last baptized I had never seen before to my
knowledge. A man of some forty or fifty years of age, employed
in the Government ----, who has been thinking on the subject of
religion for about nine years. For about two years he has been
going to some quiet place, when he had leisure, to weep and
pray. He appears now to be a very earnest and bold Christian.
At his own desire he was baptized in the middle of the city, in
a room set apart in the school.’
Very soon after Miss Tucker’s return came the death of a little Christian
Native baby; and the quiet Christian funeral was in marked contrast with
the wild wailings usual at Muhammadan funerals,--though some Muhammadan
lamentings were heard from one visitor present.
‘We decked the little sleeping form with flowers; a rose was
placed in each hand, a fragrant white Cross on the breast.... I
attended the funeral; so did a good band of Native Christians,
including our schoolboys. The cemetery was a Muhammadan one.
We must buy one for ourselves, as we are, thank God, a growing
body. I hope that in another month we may number fifty baptized
persons in Batala; and I have lately been writing out the
heading for a Subscription for a _Church_ at our dear Batala.
We have now only schoolrooms turned into Chapels. My list is to
lie on our table for visitors to see. Perhaps it will be one or
two years before we have collected enough; and by that time,
please God, the flock may have doubled or quadrupled.
‘It will be so--and more--if we go on at the rate at which the
Church has been growing. The bringing the Boys’ School here has
been a grand thing. The dear fellows, on the whole, set such a
nice example, and they seem so happy.
‘_Nov. 4, 1878._--I have come to Amritsar for a few days, for
the Confirmation, and had the pleasure of receiving your dear
letter of October 1st yesterday.... How can beloved St. George
send me such bad advice? I like his example better than his
counsel. What did _he_ do in time of trouble? Stick to his post
like a Tucker! Those of our Missionary family, with whom I have
spoken on the subject,[87] all agree with me that we should
never desert our flocks. What sort of army would that be, in
which all the officers ran away at sight of an enemy?... But take
no thought about me, dear one. Unless we meet with serious
reverses in Afghanistan, I do not see danger of a rising,
especially in the Panjab, where, on the whole, I think that we
are considered tolerable rulers.
‘And if there _were_ troubles, I suspect that we Missionaries
would run a better chance than other Europeans, we have such
numbers of friends amongst the heathen.... Just fancy--our
Bible-woman and her husband are actually collecting money from
Hindus and Muhammadans for our Church! A poor woman gave some
barley. If you were to hear all the polite little speeches, and
see all the smiles that pass between Missionary and Natives,
you would not expect us to be afraid. A Missionary in any case
should have nothing to do with fear,--it is dishonouring to the
Master.
‘My love, how can you think of sending me another dress for
winter? Do you think me so careless and extravagant as to
have worn out the graceful Grey already? I never take it into
a duli; I keep my faithful Green for such rough work. But if
a new winter dress is actually in hand, let me send you even
before seeing it a thousand thanks for it.’
FROM AN INDIAN CHRISTIAN, CONVERT FROM MUHAMMADANISM, 1878
‘MY DEAR MISS TUCKER,--I received your kind letter, dated 13th
instant, and the newspaper yesterday. I am very thankful to
you. I read it many times, and it truly made me brave. I like
the piece of poetry you quoted very much. Every day I pray to
God to lead me in the right way. I think my prayer is heard,
for I do not feel so lonely as I did at first; but I get
fever nearly every day. I had gone over to Lahore on Friday,
and stayed there for Saturday and Sunday.... I remember you in
my prayers, and I hope you do the same. Now I will not feel
lonely. Please do not be anxious....’
C. M. T. TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘_Nov. 8._--If I were not a Mission Miss Sahiba, who should
never complain, I might give a groan or a grumble to the mice
and rats. They get into my almira, and what is even worse,
into my harmonium. I had a tin plate made for the pedal part,
expressly to keep creatures out; but they managed to pass it.
I have now had a second large one made, and hope that it may
prove more effectual. The creatures have bitten almost all
the red Persian away; to-day I found lumps of wadding in my
harmonium. “How could they have come there?” I asked of my
sharp kahar, V. I suspected the rats, but did not know where
they could have got the wadding from,--when V. suggested the
beautiful padded cover of my harmonium. Sure enough, the rogues
had bitten holes in that, and pulled out wadding to stuff
into my harmonium, doubtless to make a comfortable nest for a
family of young mice or rats. I tried a Batala trap; it was of
no use: I have bought an Amritsar one, and Mera Bhatija has
bought another; but the rats, I fear, will not be much thinned
in numbers. We try to get a weasel, but have not succeeded yet.
But things might have been much worse. The rats never try to
eat _us_!’
‘_Nov. 14._--I do not think that I told you of two Christian
fakirs, to whom I was introduced at Amritsar. They were very
badly clothed, fakir-like, but--especially one of them--had
pleasing, sensible faces. I suppose that they wander about, and
lead a kind of John the Baptist life. How curious such a style
of Christian would appear in old England!’
‘_Nov. 20._--I have been wanting--wanting--my English letters,
expecting them these four days. At last here they are, and such
nice dear ones....
‘I shall much like to hear what you think of my sweet Margaret.
I doubt whether she will be in good looks, she has been so
sorely tried by her dear Mother’s illness, and the struggle in
her own mind,--longing to come to our help, yet unable to do
so! I feel for her.
‘I think that dear Emily benefited little or not at all by her
trip to the Hills. She _ought_ to go home in the spring,--after
more than six years’ work,--so ought Miss Fuller; but neither
can leave till they fairly break down; for there is no one to
take their place....
‘You think, love, that by September 4th “the most dangerous
season was over.” Far from it! September is, I think, the most
dangerous month in all the year in the Panjab. Very hot, and
full of fever. My hardest pull up-hill since I came to India
was, I think, in September. You have had the heat then for so
long, you have less vigour, and the air is so unwholesome.
Sickness all around.
‘How good you are to send me another dress! My graceful Grey
still looks very well. I consider it rather a company dress,
and have my Green for the Zenanas, which are sometimes _so_
dirty! I am wearing it now, for the weather is becoming very
cold. It is rather amusing to see our Panjabis come in for
Morning Prayers, about sunrise on a sharp morning. There is P.
with a red comforter round _head_ and neck; J. is wrapped in
his white blanket. Poor Babu Singha, with a cold of course,
is wondering how the big room below is ever to be kept warm.
Mera Bhatija and I are going to change our drawing-room. The
northern room is far the best in summer; but in winter we
escape to the southern, and what was our guest-room becomes our
sitting-room. There is actually a fireplace in it!--and the
sunbeams stream in....
‘Instead of spending the long winter evenings in solitary
grandeur upstairs, I now come down and make one of the
cheerful party in the schoolroom. It is much less distracting
to be amongst a score of boys than you would suppose. I and
some of them have been trying the vitre-manie (?) for our
Chapel-window. Yesterday I brought down my chess-board and
challenged the boys, and fought P., R., and I. C., one after
the other....
‘On Sunday evening we sing hymns for ever so long together,
just like one huge family. The boys never seem to quarrel, or
say one spiteful word of each other. We have just had two new
boys; one is an Afghan; so we shall have the sons of Christian,
Muhammadan, Hindu, and Afghan, (by race,) parents all together.’
TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.
‘_Dec. 13, 1878._
‘This evening as Mera Bhatija has gone to Amritsar, I asked
three of our lads to tea.... After tea I taught the lads “Cross
Questions and Crooked Answers,” and showed them my splendid
bubbles and my chatelaine, which were greatly admired, and my
photograph-book, a great treasure to me. But what gave perhaps
more amusement than anything was the Beaconsfield handkerchief.
I was so glad to get some photos at last.... My visits in the
city were interesting. Dear B--n’s troubles have re-opened his
mother’s Zenana to me. She even paid me a visit here. I do not
see any inclination in her to become a Christian, however;
she says that I shall go to Heaven my way, and she hers. I
suggested the disagreeableness of 840,000 transmigrations;
but she did not seem troubled. Perhaps she hopes that she has
passed through a few hundreds of millions already.’
TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘_Dec. 23, 1878._--“I shall go to rest to-night nestling under
my Laura’s love, and I shall rise very early to thank her,”
was my thought last night, as I got into my nice comfortable
bed, with her soft, light, warm quilt above me. And here I am
sitting by my blazing wood fire, long ere dawn, with that same
quilt like a shawl round my shoulders,--so comfy! Luxurious
Char! But, after all, I have not begun my thanks, and where am
I to end them?
‘Your wonderfully packed parcel reached me in perfect safety
yesterday. It was something like a nut, for it was rather
difficult to get at the kernel. So much careful stitching by
dear fingers. At last, however, the beautifully warm skirt and
quilt, and most exquisite cards, were fully displayed to view.
A thousand, thousand thanks! I have so _many_ things, such
goodly gifts, to remember my Laura by!...
‘Our Christmas festivities have already begun. Our house is
pretty full with Native friends. Perhaps the most interesting
is dear B., the once Muhammadan wife of a Christian Catechist,
and mother of Christian children, who was so sturdily bigoted
that she held out for thirteen years, before she would give
herself to the Saviour. But then she did so in her honest way.
B. was never a hypocrite; we respected her when she vexed us.
It was something for her to remain with her husband; for,
by Muhammadan law, baptism of husband or wife constitutes
divorce. Mera Bhatija told me of a curious case, which excited
much interest,--to Europeans it would excite much surprise.
A Muhammadan, who had, I suppose, read Christian books, was
travelling with some other Muhammadans, and was imprudent
enough to say that Muhammad wrought no miracles, and expressed
doubts as to his being really a prophet. The poor man happened
to have a rich wife, who, we may believe, did not care for
him. To _speak against_ the Prophet is enough to constitute a
divorce! The companions of the man did not let their chance
go of half ruining him. The case was brought into Court, and
an English judge was obliged to give a verdict against the
unfortunate fellow, who had expressed an honest opinion. He
lost his wife and her rich dowry....’
* * * * *
‘AMRITSAR, _Dec. 28, 1878_.--I am sitting with my sweet Laura’s
delicious quilt wrapped closely round my shoulders, for it
is warmer than a shawl; and I am up before the fire-lighting
period. Not being at home, I do not know how to light the fire
myself.
‘Our Christmas at Batala went off beautifully, and has, I
think, left a feeling of thankfulness on both Mera Bhatija’s
mind and my own. The following day we both came to Amritsar.
Yesterday was the grand opening of the Alexandra School. Mr.
Clark asked me to write an account of it for his report. I
did not like the task; it makes one feel so penny-a-linerish;
and one is afraid of writing to please this or that person,
etc.; but I could not well refuse, so I have been scribbling
something in pencil in the cold, which I mean to submit to dear
Emily’s criticism....
‘Oh, I must tell you what a boon your Beaconsfield handkerchief
is! It gave much amusement at Batala, both to Europeans and
Natives; it is giving much here at Amritsar. I am engaged to
dine with the Clarks this evening; so I dare say that the good
Bishop, Archdeacon, and all will have a laugh over my puzzle.
On Monday I am to go to Lahore, and sleep a night at Government
House. I mean to take my handkerchief with me....
‘Batala will present rather a contrast to bustling Amritsar and
Lahore. When I return, there will probably be no European but
myself there for days, as Mera Bhatija must be absent at the
Conference till the 6th.’
So ended the third year of Miss Tucker’s life in India. She had now
thoroughly settled down to her own especial work in Batala.