A.D. 1882-1883
THE FIRST STONE OF BATALA CHURCH
About the middle of August Miss Tucker went for change to Allahabad;
and very soon after her arrival she was able to speak of herself as
‘less tired’ than before leaving Batala; despite two nights of severe
travelling, inclusive of sixteen hours straight off in her duli. ‘The
change of air already tells on my bodily frame,’ she wrote; ‘and the
change of scene on my mind and spirits.... I was becoming low in every
way.’ Before the end of September she was back again in Batala; and there
she was soon joined by Mr. Baring, after his most sad absence. For a
while, but only for a while, Batala was still to be his home.
In October for the first time the idea came definitely up of building a
‘Mission Bungalow’ in the place, an idea which afterwards developed into
A. L. O. E.’s last earthly home.
It was also in the course of 1882 that some one wrote a sketch of her
life, and requested her to revise the same before publication. Miss
Tucker had not attained to modern composure on such questions, and she
wrote with indignation: ‘I am afraid ... neither you nor others may like my
note to ----.... I need not dwell upon the part about the little book; it
is too personal to myself. What would you think of a little book being
written about yourself,--and sent to you to _correct_? Oh! Oh!! Oh!!!’
For some time past Charlotte Tucker had been watching with great interest
the movements of the Salvation Army in India; at first with a disposition
to admire and approve, which tendency gave place gradually to strong
disapproval, as she saw more of the methods employed, and found the
exceedingly defective nature of the religious teaching given.
Some very curious glimpses of Indian modes of life and thought, and of
the manner in which Miss Tucker dealt with them, appear in the letters
of 1882 and 1883, as will be seen in succeeding extracts. Among the
singular things constantly happening, an old woman in a Zenana, at
about this time, composedly offered to _sell_ to A. L. O. E. one of her
daughters-in-law. ‘If you will give me a hundred rupees, you may have
her,’ the old woman said frankly. Needless to remark, Miss Tucker did not
buy the poor girl!
‘_Nov. 17, 1882._--I had, I thought, finished my
Zenana-visiting to-day, when a man, at a loom in a room which I
had not entered, called out to me, “I wish a Gospel. I want to
compare it with the Koran.” He and the bibi wanted me to come
into their room; so of course I went and sat down. Says the
man, “I think my religion good. I want to compare our books.”
“Much better,” said I. The man brought his Koran, a translation
into Urdu, probably made by some Christian, or at least printed
in some Christian press. The good man treated me to such a long
reading of the Koran, page after page, I did not know when he
would stop! I felt it not only common politeness to sit and
listen attentively, but good policy also, for how can I expect
an earnest Muhammadan to give the Gospel a fair hearing, if I
will not even listen to the Koran?
‘The man was anxious that I should understand as well as
hear, stopping every now and then to translate a word that he
thought might puzzle me. But the Urdu was particularly simple
for anything doctrinal. To understand anything doctrinal,
even such sermons as I hear, it is absolutely necessary to
know _some_ Arabic words. I have written out more than two
hundred,--chiefly Arabic,--_all_ beginning with M, and mostly
three-syllabled words, which I feel that I ought to know; yet
they are hardly of any use with women; and if I have them
all at my fingers’ ends, I shall still be very imperfectly
furnished. Is it not a puzzling language? Of course, some of
these two hundred words are provokingly similar to each other,
but the meaning is different.’
In the same letter she mentions a visit from the Indian Christian Faqir,
M., who a quarter of a century before had given up a lucrative situation,
and ever since had wandered about India, preaching the Gospel. On 20th
November the same subject recurs:--
‘His type of devotion is thoroughly _Hindu_, transfigured into
Christianity.... One part of our conversation, however, amused
me.... It was when we came on the subject of celibacy. The Hindu
evidently thought it better than marriage. He seemed to regard
it as an objection to the latter, that when a husband lost his
wife he would cry for two or three days!--the Faqir’s[104]
religion is a very joyful one, and when his eyes moisten it
is with religious emotion. I stood up for marriage. The dear
man is no stern ascetic; he smiled and half gave way, and said
that he liked people to be happy. It is pretty clear, however,
as regards himself that it is better for him to be unwedded.
He walks long distances; sometimes forty--fifty--sixty--miles.
He says that he is not so strong as he was. But he thinks
nothing of age; the spirit never grows old.... M.’s voice is
peculiar; one could always tell without seeing him whether he
were in chapel or not; for his “Amen” sounds like a note from a
bassoon.’
* * * * *
‘_Nov. 21, 1882._--While it is fresh in my mind I had better
give you a description of our grand day, the laying of the
first stone of our Church by the Lieutenant-Governor....
‘Since the old days of the Sikhs I doubt whether Batala ever
saw such a tamasha. Numbers and numbers of boys were gathered
together by dear Francis, lining the roads, and cheering. Gay
looked the many-coloured turbans. Mr. Wade thought there must
be about one thousand boys, for we had Government School,
City School, our Village Schools, and our own boys. We had
a fine triumphal arch at the opening into our grounds, with
“Welcome” in gold on scarlet; but it was far surpassed by the
lovely one in Persian Urdu, prepared by our boys for the Church
site: “Him that cometh to Me, I will in no wise cast out.”
Dear Emily Wauton came and helped us greatly; she specially
took the luncheon-table under her care; and very elegant it
looked, with the cold collation, and plenty of flowers from
Amritsar. My bedroom overlooks our front door, so in this
room our three _pardah-nishin_ were hidden.... I dare say that
these poor prisoners[105] of pardah specially enjoyed what was
to them so novel. The good Lieutenant-Governor was more than
punctual; a happy thing, as we had much for him to do, and only
about an hour and a half to do it in. He brought with him his
daughter, a winsome young maiden, ... whom I called “dear” before
we parted. I liked the Lieutenant-Governor very much; a man of
fine presence but simple manners....
‘The luncheon was preceded by the reading by one of the Batala
non-Christian magnates of an address, emblazoned with gold;
other Batala folk, some in very grand dresses, standing in
line. The Lieutenant-Governor gave a reply in English, which I
doubt whether many understood. Then we went to our collation;
fifteen sat down.... You should have seen our servant ----; he
was quite magnificent. He had on such a gold-adorned pagri
that it might have graced the head of a rajah, and had as
much gold on his dress. I did not think that he looked like a
Missionary’s servant, but we left him to enjoy his splendour.
I had thought, darling, whether I should wear _your_ silk
dress:[106] but no, thought I; in my Batala I will _not_ wear
silken attire; so I wore my Laura’s purple, which was just the
thing, sober and handsome. The collation went over nicely; we
could not linger at it long, and no one could drink too much,
as water was our beverage. After seeing the view from the roof,
we started in the borrowed carriages for the Church. The first
carriage, which held the Aitchesons, Mera Bhatija, and myself,
had highly conservative horses, decidedly opposed to progress.
No use coaxing and urging them; the “nat-khats” _would not_ go.
The only thing was to get out and go into another carriage.
‘Of course, there were many people at the site of our church.
We had four surpliced clergymen, my three nephews, Francis,
Mr. Wade, and Mr. Weitbrecht, and Nobin Chanda.[107] ... The
religious Service was very nice; of course, in Urdu. Then Sir
Charles[108] spread mortar over the place on which the marble
block was to descend, in what was considered a very workmanlike
manner. We sang “The Church’s One Foundation” in Urdu; Mr.
Weitbrecht’s and Mr. Wade’s fine voices making it sound so
well. Sir Charles made such a nice religious speech; it was
almost like a little Missionary address. _He_ had had, he
said, a very private conversation for an hour with a Native of
distinction, who was in concern about his soul; and it ended
by the Native saying that he had sometimes prayed to the Lord
Jesus, but would now pray to Him _every day_. Thank God for a
Lieutenant-Governor who thus shows his Christian colours!
‘We drove to the station, after again forsaking the carriage
drawn by the “nat-khats.”[109] Sir Charles made me come into
the railway carriage, to see its comfortable arrangements.
Thoughtful Francis had caused tea and cake to be taken to the
station. All went off so nicely; and my dear Bhatija feels that
he has not had his labour and expense for nothing.’
* * * * *
‘_Nov. 28._--In three days I am to go up to Amritsar, ... where
I am to sleep on that Friday night.... By some afternoon train
I shall probably then go to Lahore.... On Sunday there are to
be special services for the Conference, and Holy Communion
is to be administered; a meet commencement for a gathering
together of sisters from nine different Societies. But Char
has a special interest of her own. We have at least a dozen of
those who were Batala boys at Lahore.... I have arranged that
my boys should meet me on Sunday afternoon. This is to me one
of the most interesting parts of my visit to Lahore.... I have
been obliged to prepare two little papers, but have made them
mercifully short. I think that one takes about five and the
other three minutes to read aloud,--I timed the reading,--so no
one will have time to be tired.’
Of the above event Miss Wauton says: ‘In 1882 she came to a Conference in
Lahore, in which all the Zenana Missions of the Panjab were represented,
and was with one consent elected President of the Meetings. None who
were present could ever forget the tactful, graceful way in which she
conducted the proceedings. Many, I believe, felt that the harmonious
spirit, which prevailed in that assembly, was largely due to the loving
and Catholic spirit of our President.’
‘_Dec. 15, 1882._--I have written to the ----s about the
Salvation Meeting at Lahore, at which I was present. I have
not told them, however, how sad an impression it left on my
mind.... To _me_ there was no real joyousness in the sound of
the drum and the tambourines.... The puzzle is to me how such
music CAN be the means of converting any, unless it be English
roughs. X.[110] was eager to join the “Army,” and go with them
for a month to Calcutta. But he went to the meetings, and his
wish appears to have evaporated; at least here he is.... The
prevailing feeling in my heart (at the meeting) was--_pity_.
Though I knelt, I really _could_ not pray. The big drum and
tambourines seemed to silence any whisper of real devotion
in my soul.... I think that I have just ascertained one thing
which has cooled our really devout X. It appears that he asked
----[111] about Holy Communion, and found that he had not
received it since coming to India! Alas! alas! and if he lets
Natives consider themselves saved and sure of Heaven without
Baptism,--where will all end? The Blessed Saviour’s two clear
commands neglected! And ---- just killing himself to introduce
such a mere--one almost fears--shadow of religion! It is just
grievous! How inconceivably artful the Enemy is!’
* * * * *
‘_Dec. 21._--I paid a visit to a village to-day. I first went
to the school, then paid my respects to the lady of the place....
She showed me into a pretty bare room,--a chair was brought
for me afterwards. But I thought little about the room; its
strange occupants attracted my attention. I seemed transported
into the Middle Ages, and found myself amongst the retainers of
some bold baron,--men who looked like the stuff out of which
freebooters are, or were, made. There were four powerful men,
with four falcons; and the hoods of the falcons were grand. I
suspect that they were valuable birds, used for hunting.
‘I had an animated conversation with these burly fellows--not
the birds, but the men--if that could be called a conversation,
where the talking was almost entirely on one side. I had my
Parable of the Two Paths with me, and spoke very plainly about
Paradise and Hell;--and they listened to the old lady with
perfect good-humour. I dare say that the bold falconers were
rather surprised to find such an apparition in the village; for
they seemed to have nothing to do with Batala, where of course
my face is very familiar.
‘As I was returning in my little duli, I saw a bullock-cart in
front, with a kind of red, dome-shaped vehicle on it, which
of course contained some pardah-lady, perhaps a bride. I
noticed that the curtain was drawn back. Probably the prisoned
inmate of the red cage had caught sight of the duli, and was
curious to see its occupant. As my kahars went faster than the
bullocks, I passed the red cage, and a bright jewel-bedizened
lady--smiling, as if amused at seeing a white woman--exchanged
brief glances with me. I thought her a pretty creature. I
wonder what she thought of the old lady who smiled at her.’
[Illustration: _Taken at Amritsar about 1882_
_F. Jenkins Heliog Paris_]
The New Year begins with a line from Mrs. Wade to Mrs. Hamilton, in
reference to the recent Conference:--
‘AMRITSAR, _New Year’s Day, 1883_.
‘I wish you could have seen dear Miss Tucker as President of
our Lahore Ladies’ Conference. She did all so perfectly; one
only feared her being over tired, but I think she is stronger
than she was some months ago. We had the pleasure of her
staying a night with us on her way; and her walking powers are
wonderful! You will no doubt have a report of the Conference,
and of her solemn and helpful words on John xiii., as it is to
be printed in England.’
Although Mrs. Wade could speak of her ‘walking powers’ as ‘wonderful,’
Miss Tucker had at this period hardly the same unvarying good health as
in earlier years. A few days later she was laid by with an attack of
‘shingles,’ with pain in the side. The Native doctor, called in, informed
her that nothing was wrong with either lungs or heart,--the pain which
troubled her being ‘simply from the nerves,’ which were ‘affected by
the eruption.’ Miss Tucker assured him that she was not nervous. Upon
which, as she relates, ‘the Hindu doctor smiled quietly, and gave me
to understand that nerves are real things. He had not meant that I was
fanciful. So the whole thing was simple enough,’ she philosophically
adds. ‘To make a bull, I had a little toothache in my side.’ The attack
gave way readily.
‘_Jan. 25, 1883._--One is so apt to feel for the poor,
down-trodden Muhammadan women, that, until I began to read a
novelette written by a Native, I had no idea how they sometimes
turn the tables on their husbands. I am reading the book with
N. N., who quite confirms the truthfulness of the picture. It
appears that a woman will sometimes be asked a question ten
times by her husband, before she vouchsafes an answer. Some
women burn the soles of their shoes, and make a preparation
of them to put on the eyes, believing that by this strange
superstitious means they will always keep their husbands _under
their feet_! With all the talk about Woman’s Rights, we have
hardly got so far as this!’
* * * * *
‘_Feb. 20._--Mera Bhatija and I took rather a long walk
this afternoon, to look at a lovely little mosque. I had
said before to Francis, “How is it that the mosques are so
beautiful, and our churches here--unless expensively built--so
ugly?” Francis gave me a simple but good reason: “We want
people to go _into_ our churches; the Muhammadans worship
outside theirs.” You see, love, we have first to think of room
and comfort; so beauty gets shoved into a corner.
‘We went to look more closely at the graceful mosque, to see
if we could gain hints. I made a rough sketch of the front.
Francis says that it would be much too expensive for us to have
anything so ornamental. We want room for one hundred people at
least; and that dot of a mosque would hold comparatively very
few. Mera Bhatija thinks that we might indulge in two minarets,
and ornament our church with clay vessels turned upside down,
and painted white, with a little Cross on the top of each. We
must have a good-sized Cross, gilt, to glitter in the sun, on
the top of all.... The Cross is our Banner, the Sign of Faith in
the Son of God, rejected by Muhammadan and Hindu! It should
crown--and sparkle on, too--every religious edifice in this
land.’
* * * * *
‘_March 8, 1883._--I had an extraordinary conversation with
a Muhammadan boy to-day. His name is Y. He lives in what I
consider a nest of bigotry. I am more likely to have to dispute
there than in any other place in Batala. I had with me, besides
my Bible, the “Mirror of the Heart,” which contains beautifully
coloured pictures of the human heart, with allegorical vices
represented by various animals, the serpent, rat, etc. It is
a valuable help to a Missionary. The first heart is that of
the natural man, before repentance; the second, that of a man
repenting. The fourth is a horrid heart, of a dingy colour,
with _a black cross_ in it, and seven devils, mounted on the
bad emblems, wanting to get in. It is the heart of a hypocrite.
Well, dear one, I was showing this picture in a Zenana, and
a grave-looking boy, to whom before I had given a portion of
Scripture, and who I think once studied in our Mission-School,
Y., was close beside me. When I had gone over the various
pictures, I said to Y., “Which of these hearts,”--showing the
first and second,--“is like yours?” I meant, “Are you repenting
or unrepenting?” The boy, perhaps fourteen years of age, would
not agree that either was like his. To my surprise he made me
turn over to the fourth heart, and told me _that_ was like his.
‘“But it is not a Muhammadan’s heart,” said I. “You see the
Cross is in it,--but it is black.”
‘“And how do you know,” said the boy gravely, “_that the
Cross is not in my heart_?” I think that he repeated this
touching question afterwards. In short, he kept firmly to
his declaration that _that_ heart was the one like his. What
is passing in that lad’s soul? Does he consider himself a
hypocrite, with seven devils surrounding him? If so, he must
be a hypocrite as regards Muhammadanism?--for he does not
pretend to be a Christian. I suspect that this may be the case.
He _has_ a cross, but it is a black one, because he does not
confess the Saviour.
‘There is a great change in dear ----‘s mother. (You remember
perhaps the dear lad in a bigoted home, who so loved the Lord
Jesus, bore persecution for Him, and died in peace.) My last
visit to that house was so different to the first! On the
first occasion I left the place so shocked, that I uttered the
exclamation as I went, “God have mercy on you!” I do not think
that I ever left any other house with such an exclamation on my
lips. The last time I left the house with the exclamation, “God
grant!” The mother had told me the story of her eldest brother,
a policeman, who, like her son, had become Christian in heart,
and incurred the fierce anger of his father by speaking
against Muhammad. A Suni[112] had stabbed the policeman in the
side with a knife; but the Christian refused to prosecute.
He was very gentle, just like the nephew who followed in his
steps. The policeman left Lahore,--this was more than twenty
years ago,--and has never been heard of since. Probably he is
numbered in the noble army of martyrs.
‘I said, “I think that both your brother and son are with
the Lord Jesus.” “_Without doubt!_” cried this once bigoted
woman. I urged her to follow them, and asked her if she had no
love for the Lord in her heart. “He is the Apple of my eye,”
she replied. You must not suppose, love, that there is any
immediate prospect of Baptism; but I talked to her about it;
and, as I have mentioned, left the house with a “God grant!”’
* * * * *
‘_March 24, 1883._--We cannot see one step before us! I was
thinking to-day, as I was going to the City, where my work
_seems_ of so little use, “Abraham had to wait for twenty years
before God kept His promise to him.” Perhaps it may be twenty
years before the promise is fulfilled--fully--to me, “Your
labour is not vain in the Lord.”
‘O the utter carelessness of some of the women, who will
interrupt the most solemn, heart-searching conversation with
a question about my dress, or a request for a pin. They seem
so utterly frivolous! Then those who do think, and have some
concern for religion, are such earnest Muhammadans; it is with
them a matter of _heart-love_! It is a mystery how it should be
so, when Muhammad was not only a murderer and profligate, but
has lowered woman altogether; but it seems especially the women
who delight in his false religion. They do not care for its
having no proofs; they _love_ it.’
* * * * *
‘_March 28._--I had rather an interesting visit to-day, which
you may like to hear about.
‘I went to the house of a Maulvi ... I had books to take to his
sweet young daughter; and soon I found that the ladies had gone
to a wedding; but as two servants were in the house, I thought
it better to stop and give the “good news” to them. Whether
they cared about it or not, I know not. After my interview with
them, I was about to leave, when who should come in but the
master of the house, the Maulvi himself. (He is not the same
one who was so proud, that I could not help an unpremeditated
rebuke escaping from my lips.) This Maulvi was fresh from a
pilgrimage to Mecca; but the merit ascribed to a Haji did not
seem to make him proud at all.
‘He courteously addressed me, sat down, and prepared for a
_tête-à-tête_ with the Englishwoman. He told me that he had
none of our books; that he wanted a controversial one, that he
might compare the two religions. There was no appearance of
bigotry at all. He asked me whether we read prayers. I told
him that we not only had regular prayer, but that we sang
God’s praises,--which the Muhammadans never do,--and opening
my Bible, I read aloud several passages in which Hasrat David
(Saint David) commands us to do so. My gentle Maulvi made no
observation on this proof that Christians pay more obedience
than Muhammadans do to the commands of one whom _both_
acknowledge as a Prophet....
‘Accompany me now to another Zenana. A young man showed
himself again and again, as if he wanted to take a share in
conversation, but did not at first see his way to doing so. At
last he told me that there was great excitement. I could not
for some time make out what it was about; it seemed to be about
some birth; but then it appeared to be about something else. At
last the difficulty cleared up. The young Muhammadan made me
understand that it was said that the Imam Mahdi had been born;
and on account of this there was great excitement in H---- and
over the country.
‘I said that I had heard about a man, calling himself the
Mahdi, near Egypt. The young man did not seem to have an idea
_where_ the long-expected Imam is, but he said that when the
place should be known all would go to see him. My curiosity
was a little aroused. I asked what the Mahdi was to do. “To
reign over all kingdoms, and make every one Muhammadan.” “But
if they should not choose to be Muhammadans?” “Oh, all will
be Muhammadans.” “But if I did not choose to be a Muhammadan,
would he kill me?” “No, his rule will be like that of the
English.”
‘I would not trust the Mahdi, however, nor that animated young
man! This was the only Zenana in which I have heard of the
Mahdi; and I have visited plenty. I had more talk with the
Muhammadan. I said that I thought that the Dajal was expected
to come before the Mahdi. No,--the Mahdi is to come first; then
the Dajal; and then Jesus Christ! It is curious to hear these
ideas!’
* * * * *
‘_March 28._--I almost think that the Muhammadans are stronger
in their bigotry, from an expectation of some coming event at
the coming Ramazan (great fast) in July. Perhaps, some of them
think, there will be great pestilence; perhaps Christ and the
Mahdi will come;--and the sun rise in the west instead of in
the east. The more intelligent do not seem to expect the last
wonder.’
* * * * *
‘_April 27._--The beautiful monument which Francis is going
to place over the grave of sweet Margaret was sent here
from Delhi. I have sent a sketch of it to her sisters, and
another to Mrs. Baring. I did not find it so easy to draw as
I expected, on account of the perspective of the three white
marble steps, which support the pure white Cross.... How little
we know who will be called! I remember my pleading with her
not to delay coming out, or she might find a Cross instead of
her friend. The white Cross has been for her, not for me; and
I see no likelihood at present of my soon being called, though
of course one never knows. I have seen so many young pass away
since I came to India.’
In the same letter she says with respect to the Baring High School: ‘I
hope and expect that our School has reached its lowest ebb,--twenty-three
boys, mostly little ones. There is some likelihood of six more coming.’
Mrs. Hamilton had begun to ask occasionally to her house in London young
Indians who had come to England for a Western education. Some of them she
saw repeatedly, and reference is often made to them in letters.
C. M. T. TO THE REV. W. F. T. HAMILTON.
‘_June 19, 1883._
‘Shortly after writing to your dear Mother, I had myself a
visit from a Muhammadan. I remembered what I had just been
writing,[113] so soon plunged straight into the subject of
religion. I had seen Sheik A. twice before; and the first time
had had a good talk. Yesterday he listened very well, though I
ventured to contrast Muhammad a little with the Blessed One.
Sheik A. agreed to his wife visiting me here this evening,--I
sending a duli for her, as she is “pardah-nishin”; and as he
is going to L----, he _asked_ me for a letter of introduction
to some lady there, that she might visit his wife. This was
encouraging. Sheik A. took a cup of tea with me, and we parted
excellent friends. Perhaps a couple of hours afterwards my
dear Faqir, M., came to see me. He too had been having an
interview with Sheik A. “Much excitement,” said the Faqir. I
think that the Muhammadan had probably not been as much on
his good behaviour with the dark Madrassee as with the white
Englishwoman. There seemed to have been a hot discussion below.
Dear M. was inclined to reproach himself. “Harsh!--my loud
voice!” said he. Depend upon it, he went at his work like a
cannon. But all seemed to end well. I think he told me that
Sheik A. and he shook hands as they parted.’
TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘_July 21, 1883._
‘How different it is writing a free and easy letter to you,
from a studied one like that to ----! I hope that my Laura
will not consider Char a conceited old woman, who likes no one
to find fault with her writings. But, you see, love, I know
_nothing_ of Mr. ----‘s capacity to act as critic.... I cannot
consent to walk in chains because Mr. ---- has a liberal
hand and a full purse. I am so glad that I refused pecuniary
recompense. In writing I must be _free_. I hope that I have not
made a mistake in putting in as many proverbs as I have done.
It was difficult to select. How inappropriate--clever as it
is!--would it have been to put in such as this, “The sieve said
to the needle, You have a hole in your tail”!’ ...
* * * * *
‘_Aug. 4._--Yes, love, I dare say that I was mistaken about
your entering on religious subjects soon with the young
Indians. I often doubt my own judgment. You see, it is a
disadvantage to me to have no one to correct me. This has been,
I think, my most lonely hot weather.
‘I am thankful that I do not hold the doctrine of
Perfectionism. I should be very miserable if I did; for
sometimes it seems to me as if I went backwards instead of
forwards. If I thought that a real child of God ought to be
perfect, I must come to the conclusion that I at least am not a
child of God. But I do not hold this view, and I see that the
holy Simeon wrote clearly and distinctly against it.’
* * * * *
‘ALEXANDRA SCHOOL, AMRITSAR, _Aug. 15, 1883_.
‘Here I am in this big palace, a good deal bigger than my
Batala one,--the guest of dear, loving Florrie.[114] ...
‘I have been taking my morning walk. I saw the old banyan
in the garden of what was my first Indian home with sweet
Margaret. The downward shoot which I named “Batala” has now the
size of the trunk of a tree.’
A visit of two or three weeks to her nephew at Dunga Gully followed,
where the children were a great enjoyment to her, letters home being
full of the pretty utterances of little Tudor and Beryl. On the 15th of
September, however, she once more gaily reported herself as ‘back again
in dear old Batala!’ and again the steady round of work went on as usual.
‘_Sept. 19._--A lady who knows a good deal about Muhammadanism,
and has read from the _Hadis_ (Muhammadan traditions), told me
something very curious that she had come upon....
‘There is a supposed prophecy of Muhammad, that in the latter
days a marvellous being, called Dajal, will appear. He will
perform marvels, bring a band of musicians, and whoever hears
the enchanting sound will follow him, leaving friends, parents,
etc.... I, after hearing this, inquired about Dajal from ----.
He, having been a learned Muhammadan, of course knew all about
the prophecy.... Dajal, who will become a king, is to have but
one eye, and ride an ass nine coss (about fourteen miles)
long!... Dajal is supposed to be an evil being, drawing downwards
those whom he influences. After him the Muhammadans expect the
Imam Mahdi;--and then, our Blessed Lord.
‘What extraordinary ideas these people have of our Saviour!
They think that He never died, but was caught up to Heaven, and
some one else crucified in His stead. This is a true doctrine
of the devil, for of course it strikes against all belief in
the Atonement. It would drive us from the very key and central
point of our faith. Often have I tried to show how completely
such a doctrine is against prophecy. Well, dear, this is not
all. The Muhammadans believe that after our Lord comes again,
_to convert the world to Muhammadanism_, He will die! I have
spoken with one who has actually _seen the place_ where _His
future tomb_ is to be at Medina! It is near Muhammad’s grave,
and is considered a very holy place. There is a handsome black
marble slab, bordered with white, and fine palings around.’
TO MISS LEILA HAMILTON.
‘_Sept. 24._
‘I have started to-day a temporary drawing-class for the five
poor little boys who have to stay here all during the holidays.
They are so pleased. It was a pleasure to me to see them
all seated, busy with pencil and paper, instead of lounging
about wearily. I did not succeed in making them do a bit of
carpentering for me.
‘The drawing lesson was a lesson to me, dear. After my own
fashion, it seemed to me a type, and--strange as it may seem to
you--a type bearing on the disputed subject of perfection in
this life. We are all children,--the sooner we realise this,
the better!--and the Lord sets us a copy; not a poor little
one, such as I placed before the boys, but a perfect, exquisite
one. Now, I imagine three of our boys drawing as nicely as they
can, and then coming to me with their copies.
‘The first is very happy indeed. “It is quite perfect!”
says he. “My dear child, _you_ may think so, but _I_ do not
think so. Take your measuring paper, and go over your copy
more carefully; and you will see that not all the lines are
straight.”
‘The second comes to me, crying. “I shall never manage my
copy,” sighs he. “It is not a quarter as good as the picture,
and yet I took such pains!” “Yes, dear boy, I see that you have
taken pains; and that is all that I require. You will do better
in time. But dry your tears. Did you really think that I should
be angry with you, because your drawing is not perfect?”
‘The third looks modestly into my face, to see if he has
pleased me. He knows that he has _tried_ to please me; and
though he has not succeeded in making a perfect drawing, he
_has_ succeeded in pleasing.
‘The third child is the one whom I should most wish to
resemble. He trusts me!’
TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘_Oct. 14, 1883._
‘Do you ever note what is the first waking thought when
consciousness returns in the morning?... The other day my thought
on awakening was so very odd, that it made an impression by
its very strangeness. I could not imagine what could have put
it into my head, and you will smile when you read it. “_The
snuffers were of gold!_” I have not so much as seen snuffers
since I came to India.... Why on earth should my waking thought
be of them? “Well,” considered I, “snuffers are worthy of
mention in the Bible; and those in the Temple _were_ of gold.
What can I make out of this thought?”
‘Then it occurred to me that the office of snuffers, humble
enough, being to make candles brighter, the office was
emblematical perhaps of that which St. Paul adjudged to the
aged women. They were to teach the young women to love their
husbands, etc. At last I began to think, darling, that perhaps
my place in the Church here _is_ a little like that of a pair
of snuffers; and now, when I feel that I ought to give a little
word in season to Native Christians, I fancy that I have to
snuff them--not _out_!--O no!--only to remove some little
superfluity....
‘I think I must have amused my Laura with my idea of the
snuffers; but it may be a useful thought to those who
are no longer young. A little gentle snuffing may be the
work--unostentatious work--given to us.... What a snip dear H.
gave to W. long, long ago, and how the fine boy admired her for
it!... But then the snuffers were of gold. No one likes to be
snuffed by coarse iron ones.
‘What a pity that I have no one to snuff me here! Were we
together, it would be your office, love. I have to act as my
own snuffers, and take hints never intended to be hints, like
noble Tudor’s--“I must do my duty.” He had no idea that he was
acting the part of a tiny pair of gold snuffers. I may almost
say that I have taken these snuffers up, and have been snipping
away with them at our young Natives ever since. No mortal could
object to such a miniature pair.
‘_Oct. 16._--Do not think, from what is written above, that,
as I grow older, I think it well to grow more censorious. If
I have grown in anything this year, I think that it is in
knowledge of my _own_ errors and mistakes. I sometimes feel
quite disheartened. I do not think that I ever more mistrusted
my own judgment than I do now, after my various blunders. But
we know that, though snuffers are less straight, comely, and
upright, perhaps, than the candlestick, they may be useful in
brightening the light which it carries.’