A.D. 1890-1891
IN OLD AGE
Letters at this late period of Miss Tucker’s life become so abundant,
from numerous quarters, that the main difficulty is in selection, the
main cause of regret is that so few can be used. The history of 1891 and
1892 may be told chiefly by Miss Tucker’s details of what went on. Miss
Dixie remained her constant companion in the little Mission bungalow all
these years,--except when absent for her summer holiday, or on furlough.
Others came and went, remaining a longer or a shorter time in Batala. Dr.
Weitbrecht had settled down as C.M.S. Missionary in the place; and Mr.
Bateman, stationed at Narowal, came and went on itinerating expeditions.
Charlotte Tucker still lived her life of rigid simplicity; though
perhaps certain indulgences, immaterial when she was younger and in more
vigorous health, had now become a positive necessity. Long Indian toil,
as well as sharp illnesses, had told upon her; and at seventy she had
every appearance of being ninety. Yet, through weakness, weariness, and
languor, she struggled on, and kept up her steady round of work.
The little ‘Sunset’ house, in which she lived, consisted mainly of the
following: bath-room, size 8 feet by 8; dressing-room, size 13 feet by
8; the one large principal room, size 24 feet by 13, divided by a screen
into bedroom and sitting-room; and the verandahs. Miss Tucker’s chief
room has been described to me by one who spent months at Batala, as, at
this date,--‘Rather bare and shabby, and used to have rather an untidy
look.... As you went in from the verandah in front, the fireplace was on
your left, and a sofa, with a screen behind it, screening off the bed,
on your right. In front of you was the little table, where she used
to write. I cannot remember all of the furniture; there was not very
much,--I think some shelves on each side of the fireplace.’
This does not sound too luxurious. No doubt Miss Tucker might, without
expense, have made her rooms much prettier, but for her passion for
giving away. She seldom kept for herself more than was imperatively
needed. While on this subject, it may be worth remarking, as regards the
food of the Missionary ladies in Batala, that the cost of it has been
found to amount, on an average, to about eight annas a day,--an anna
being worth rather less than a penny. The said estimate applies to an
ordinary time, including a certain amount of entertaining of visitors.
Probably the cost would be much the same in other parts of the Panjab,
unless it were slightly more in large Stations.
A few scattered sentences from the Journal may precede the letters of
1891:--
‘_April 30, 1889._--Villages.... Sikh bibi very nice. I said, “I
am very weak. If you heard that I died, what would you say?”
Reply: “Gone to Jesus! Gone to Heaven!” After a while I asked,
“Were I to hear of your death, what should I say?” A little
delay; then a bibi observed on the _kirpa_, mercy, of Jesus,
and thought that He might take them too.’
* * * * *
‘_Aug. 31._--“Faint, yet pursuing,” must be my motto. The
two boys from ----, who came to Anarkalli, as if resolved to
embrace Christianity, but, being without root, left us again,
seem to have done much harm. The Muhammadans more bitter than
before. Twice this week I--an aged servant of Christ--have been
turned away from the Zenanas, to which I went in gentleness
and kindness. To-day I was rejected at a fourth.... It is a
strain upon the threefold cord of Faith, Hope, and Love, this
deliberate choosing of darkness instead of light, Barabbas
instead of Christ. We need the prayers of God’s people, and to
remember the promise, “In due season ye shall reap if ye faint
not.”’
* * * * *
‘_Sept. 4._-- ... Two places very nice. B. is determined to be a
Christian, and teach his wife. Wants Urdu Gospel....
‘_Sept. 5._-- ... Felt ill; half-blind; yet generally well-heard....
‘_Sept. 6._-- ... Ophthalmia, but managed to go to Q. five
places....
‘_Dec. 12, 1889._--D.G. Hindus cross. As I mounted dark stair,
heard “Buha band.”[127] However, I ventured up, smiling, and
said,--“When you come to the Dispensary, the door is not
shut.” There were four women; the two elder cross, not the
younger. At first no seat was offered me; then some one said,
“Buddhi,”[128] on which a small mat was brought, and the old
woman meekly sat down. I tried to make my visit pleasant,
showed my Golden Tree, and sang. It was a kind of breaking of
ice. I took care not to stay very long. When I had risen, the
two younger salaamed. I turned, smiling, to one cross old lady,
and coaxed her to return my salaam. After a little while she
did so; but I wanted to conquer the toughest also. The younger
women listened, much amused, to my polite expostulations on
her rudeness. At last the old hand went up to the brow, and I
departed, contented. The ice was broken. One can go again.’
* * * * *
‘_Dec. 25, Christmas, 1889._--Nice. D., B., and children, made
catechumens.’
* * * * *
‘_Dec. 27._--The best day, I think, that I have ever had
in Zenanas.... N. B., A very nice visit. Two fine young men,
and at least seven women of various ages, appeared pleased,
interested, and without any bigotry. So much inclined towards
Christianity did one man in particular seem, that I spoke of
the advantage of a united family accepting the Truth, and
expressed a hope that all would come out. “Sat!”[129] echoed
the Hindu heartily, throwing up one of his hands, as though to
give force to the word.’
* * * * *
‘_June 29, 1890._--I have, three times in as many weeks, been
able freely to show a Bible picture in Islami schools, and
speak of Christ. To-day, as I walked in the streets, twice
tradesmen in their little shops wished to see my picture. I
stopped, and others gathered round, whilst I explained.’
* * * * *
‘_Sept. 2, 1890...._ K., she sad. Seems to regret death of her
poor young S., whom she kept such a prisoner, and of whom I
thought, “If any one in that quarter be a secret believer, it
is she!” I could seldom get into the house. The sweet S. was
quite a prisoner. I have even stood before the window, and
sung in the open lane, hoping that S. would hear the sound of
my voice, like imprisoned Richard. I hear that S. gave birth
to a girl, “a very beautiful tiny child,” who only lived for a
month, and the young mother soon followed. I have strong hopes
that both are with the Lord Jesus.’
* * * * *
‘_Feb. 9, 1891._-- ... I have suffered greatly from chilliness
this cold weather. Perhaps in no winter during my whole life
more. Old age. Ague.’
* * * * *
‘_March 25, 1891._--Song. W. B. Buckle; but my best hearer
was R. L., very interesting schoolboy. He met me at my
first Zenana, and followed me to all the others. He was so
nice,--even singing bhajans--that I thought at first that
he must have learned at the Plough. With interest, amid
interruptions from women, listened to story of the three Jews
in the furnace, and told it afterwards in another Zenana. He
was a help to me, explaining the Buckle, etc., very nicely.
When the subject was Christ’s Ascension, the boy said that He
had gone up to God Almighty. I intend to write out the song
for the dear fellow.... His heart seemed so impressionable, and
his face brightened at the thought of the Crown to be given to
“those who believe in Jesus.” “I want to be a Christian,” he
said in English. Lord, bless him. Give him the Crown.’
* * * * *
‘_April 13, 1891...._ R. E. took me into her arms; felt so slim
encircled by them. I noticed a quantity of jewels on her arms.
She popped her bare feet on my knee,--I was seated on the
ground,--to show me the jewels on them. Her amount of clothing
was by no means proportionate. Presently down went her forehead
on my lap. I silently hoped that there was not much oil on her
hair.’
* * * * *
‘_May 14._--Hindus very nice. My A. B., cheerful-looking C. D.,
another whom I do not know so well, E. F. These three all hope
to meet me in Heaven. When I said to C. D., “But how can we go?
We are sinners!”--her simple reply was, “Jesus Christ, Guide.”
I have hopes of these three.’
* * * * *
‘_May 15._--F. G., nice intelligent man. I was surprised at a
_little_ boy, H. I., being able to read. Gave him hymn-book.
Was much followed about by boys....’
* * * * *
‘_May 25, 1891...._ Felt the weight of years much. Work a
struggle! Lord, help me!...’
* * * * *
‘_June 4...._ L. very nice. When I said that she was patient,
poor dying hand pointed upwards. Peace on face. Many listened....’
* * * * *
‘_June 22...._ I am to start to-day for Dalhousie. Feel old and
rather worn out. If I live to 1892 must not stay down[130] so
long....’
* * * * *
‘_Aug 14, 1891...._ I sat outside with Bibis, in front of ----‘s
house. The door half open, behind it pretty smiling young Bibi,
who again and again silently made signs to me to come in. Did
so, and sat beside her. She did not utter one word, but by
her looks tried to show me that she received the Word, and
believed. She only said “Salaam,” when I left. I read to her of
Christ being the Good Shepherd, His own words.’
* * * * *
‘_Dec. 24._--J. ill; sweet. Told me that, sitting up in bed,
she saw beings come in, clothed in white shining raiment. Felt
frightened. Asked why they did not speak. Afterwards fell
asleep, and dreamed of being taken to a beautiful place. She
is, we think, a true believer, confesses herself sinful, and
looks to Christ for salvation. Asked her if she would like
baptism. “Yes.” “Would your husband allow it?” “No.”’
These are specimens of the longer entries. The majority are exceedingly
brief, consisting for the most part of names, initials, and single words.
Letters to Mrs. Hamilton in the early part of 1891 are unusually few:
not that the usual number were not written, but few have been kept. In
the spring of that year there was some discussion as to the name of ‘The
Plough School,’--her own favourite name for the School, which meant much
to her. One cannot but regret that any stir should have been made about
the matter, when she had been the ‘mother’ of the school. The criticism
having been put forward, however needlessly, she wrote to Mr. Baring:--
‘By-the-by, the name “Plough” is objected to, as sounding
like a public-house.... How could we choose a name that would
signify entire dependence on God?... The Plough appears to be
flourishing. Boys come to it even from what we call the large
Government School. Numbers have arisen to about 113. To-day I
had no fewer than seven rather superior boys from the Plough.
They come for religious conversation and Bible pictures.’
On the 17th of June 1891 she wrote to Mrs. Gardiner about the recent
death of that remarkable man, Bishop French,--no longer holding the
position of a Bishop, but working as a simple Missionary.
‘MY DEAR MRS. GARDINER,--Though June in the plains is not the
most favourable month for letter-writing, especially to a
Septuagenarian, I will not let your kind note remain longer
unanswered.
‘Yes, indeed, our late loved Bishop French was a saint, one
whose memory is sweet, whose example is lofty. You will have
seen the article in the _Panjab Mission News_. I think that it
was written by Rowland Bateman, who, so like himself, feels not
having rushed off in all the heat, to have been at the side of
his venerated Friend, left alone in a land of strangers. But
the dear Saint was not alone! What a glorious ending to his
beautiful course! He reminds one, when dying in the grapple
with Muhammadanism in the very home of its birth, of the Swiss
hero, who broke the phalanx of the enemy by clasping the spears
of the foremost in his arms, and so receiving them into his
breast.
“‘Make way for liberty,’ he cried;
‘Make way for liberty!’--and died.”
‘Of course there will be a Memoir of Bishop French,--but where
is the Boswell competent to write it? Who could give all the
delicate touches, needed for a perfect portrait of one with so
many idiosyncrasies?
‘How well I remember the dear Bishop coming all the way from
Lahore,--when there was no railway,--to visit me, when I
was supposed to be dying.[131] He sat by my bedside, gently
talking. I do not remember that I said anything to him. I was
looking up at his face, and thinking what a lovely medallion
might be made of it in wax! It was an earthly thought; but when
you recall the delicate features, pure complexion, and saintly
look, of that countenance, you will hardly wonder at the sick
woman’s reflection.
‘My letters, or rather letter, from England came in when I was
engaged in writing, and you will not wonder at the blot on the
last page.... I feel now disinclined to write at all. My beloved
sister, Mrs. Hamilton, has been seriously ill; but, thank God,
to-day’s account of her is good.--Yours affectionately,
C. M. TUCKER.
TO MISS MINNIE DIXIE.
‘(_From the Hills_) _July 4, 1891_.
‘I am not timid about snakes; but H. has seen four lately, and
it is only common-sense to look under one’s bed, as the heat
compels open windows and doors. I have only fish-insects and
tarantulas at present, but am promised plenty of scorpions,
centipedes, and leeches, in the rains. You know I have not your
talent for squashing reptiles; and if I called out for help in
the unpleasant business, I doubt whether any one would hear me.
I rather think that this will be my last visit to the Hills,
and that Amritsar will be my Sanatarium in future.’
The two next letters to Miss Dixie are about the outbreak of smallpox
in Batala. She was ‘quite ready to nurse a smallpox patient, should
the malady spread.’ And again,--’ Why should I delay my return? As a
Missionary, I am liable any day to meet children with smallpox full out.
I hope to be with you in about a fortnight.’
TO MISS LANGLEY.
‘BATALA, _July 29, 1891_.
‘It is very kind of you to ask what kind of things would be
most useful here. For _sale_, pretty little articles of dress
for English children, from one day old to five years, are
most readily disposed of. We are afraid of woollen articles,
as they are so difficult to keep. White ants are a real
puzzle at Batala.... Happily cotton or silk they attack much
less. Gentlemen’s neckties, of a fashionable shape, would
be likely to sell well. Station-people in India think _at
least_ as much about fashion as Londoners do. A few pretty
cosies and toilet or tea-table covers would be nice, and some
elegant dolls. These would suit for sales. For presents in
schools--cheap dolls, gay and rather gaudy; bags, with cotton
and tape; kurtas, common gay print, that will wash. I dare say
that Miss Cockle could supply a pattern. The kurtas need to
be made of Oriental shape, or they would not be worn by the
school-children.’
An attack of ophthalmia in her eyes, which must have caused much
suffering, is made light of in her letters; and in the same passing
manner she alludes to a fall, whereby her face was turned black and blue.
The main point in connection with this accident seemed to her to be the
kindness and sympathy shown by Batala people, when she went to visit
them, and the fact that nobody smiled at her discoloured and swollen
features.
TO MISS LEILA HAMILTON.
‘_Sept. 12, 1891._
‘You will see a half-sheet; it belonged to a whole one, but
the first half, alas! I have had to tear up; for it gave such
a bright account of one, who, _only to-day_, I have found out
has been deceiving us for many months!... Let us drop the painful
subject.
‘I had a visit early this morning from a _real_ servant of
God, dear old K. S.! One thinks of him rather as the learned
and pious Pandit, than as the ordained Pastor; he leads such a
wandering life. His faithful heart was heavy to-day, from the
inconsistencies of professed Native Christians. He thought them
better out of the Fold than in it;--so do I, for many are not
_sheep_ at all!
‘I have not yet heard whether dear Mr. Bateman has recovered.
I have written to him to-day. My letter will not cheer him,
but he must know facts. Blindness is no benefit. We want
_light_ and _air_. Do you know, dear, that we felt our church
dreadfully close,--yes, for years and years. The cause was
obvious to us ladies. The doors and _lower_ windows were often
opened; the _upper_ windows _never_! It was troublesome to get
at such high ones; so year after year the bad air, which came
from breath, ascended, and had no vent. Last Sunday, after my
earnest protest, the windows were opened, and we breathed pure
air!
‘We are very quiet now; but in two or three weeks will begin
the rush _from_ the Hills; the season for work beginning,
and the season for visiting too.... It is possible that in the
beginning of October I may go for a week or so to Futteyghur
with sweet Daisy Key, to teach the Christian peasants in that
out-of-the-way spot. I think that the quietness, with one
choice companion, would suit me better than the bustle of many
arrivals at Batala. About the 1st of November I am engaged to
go for a short visit to dear Louis and Lettie at Rawal Pindi....
The journey is not a very fatiguing one, as I can go all
the way by train. Rawal Pindi is a city at the foot of the
Himalayas; there is no mounting up.’
* * * * *
‘_Sept. 16, 1891._--My own sweet Sister, I do confess with
regret that I wrote too hastily about ----, as dear M. C. does
not think him bad, and hopes that he may be useful in time.
I was vexed and impatient at my Laura being so worried, year
after year.... But I was wrong, dear, I frankly own it! I wonder
when I shall be given grace to be really loving, gentle, and
patient!
‘Poor dear Daisy and I have been sadly tried lately by the
wickedness of those in our own compound. We both feel that it
will be a relief to get away for a while to Futteyghur, which
we shall probably do in the beginning of October.... But oh,
let me not be so ungrateful to the Lord, or so unjust to dear
excellent Native Christian friends, as to say in my haste, “All
men are liars!” Poor Daisy thinks Batala the most wicked place
that she has ever been in; and so do I? But precious jewels
come _to_ Batala, though very few _out_ of it....
‘But I must not write only of trials, love. If you could have
dropped in upon us yesterday evening, you would have thought us
a very happy party. See Char, in one part of the room, playing
at chess with our good Pastor, Nobin Chanda;[132] ... dear Babu
Singha, the excellent and wise, a special comfort to me,
looking on in his quiet benevolent way. At the other side see
sweet Daisy, animated and bright, playing at our famous Batala
game with a choice set of Natives; ... and last, not least,
dear Rosie Singha, our honorary and very steady worker in the
Dispensary. I feel giving these kinds of parties a real duty;
and they give, at little cost, so much innocent enjoyment. It
is well for the Missionaries too to have pauses, in a struggle
with so much that is repulsive and saddening.... I think that
Rowland is not now actually ill, as he writes about being in
the midst of a sermon. I hope that he will be able to pay
Batala a flying visit before long.... He has so many Missionary
troubles, and we cannot help adding to them. But--
‘“Soon and for ever, we’ll see as we’re seen,
And learn the deep meaning of things that have been!”’
‘_Sept. 27, 1891._--I will steal a bit from the morning to
write a little to you. We are living rather in a bustle at
present; the tide of Missionaries running down from the Hills,
rather sweeping over Batala. Dear Rowland is here.... Miss Boyd
is here. She is to be married, please God, next week.... Her
visit has been a real help to me, at a time of much Missionary
difficulty.... Her Betrothed has been to Muscat, to gather
information about the last days of dear Bishop French.... Miss
---- returned here on Saturday; Miss Dixie and the Corfields
start for Batala to-day. One lady comes here from Amritsar
to-day; we are to start her from hence at 4 A.M. to-morrow,
Tuesday.... I shall be very glad to be quietly off, ... out of a
kind of whirlpool. We will have eight at dinner to-day; quite
as much as our table will hold.’
* * * * *
‘FUTTEYGHUR, _Oct. 11_.--I watch with much interest the
Christian father, R. M., when at our long Services his little
four-years old Z. is beside him. It is lovely to see the
peaceful confiding loving clinging trust of the little child,
as she cuddles to her strong father, and his gentle tenderness
to the wee girl.... It makes me think of our Heavenly Father and
us, His weak little ones. But an elder girl of R. M. was bitten
by a snake; and then the tender father showed “the hardness of
love.” He resolutely cut out the poisoned part with a penknife.
The poor child screamed terribly, but still the parent cut on.
I dare say that his own heart felt gashed. The child was saved.
O when our Heavenly Father thus wounds to save, may we have
grace to lie still!’
One would much like to know the rest of this story, and how the poor
father managed to keep his little girl from bleeding to death. His
courage must indeed have been great.
Later in the same letter, when again on the never-failing topic of
troubles and disappointments in the work, Miss Tucker says,--‘O what need
we Missionaries have of wisdom! We are so liable to make mistakes.’
TO ---- ----
‘_Oct. 24, 1891._
‘I was in Sikh villages this morning. The Sikhs are more
friendly than the Muhammadans. I have often told them that if
their respectable Guru Nanak were here on Earth now, he would
probably become a Christian. I said that I had heard that there
was something about our Lord in the Granth. The Sikh with whom
I was conversing at once gave me the “Slok,” and translated its
difficult antique Panjabi. This is the Slok in English; “That
Cutter of demons’ heads, the world’s revered Jesus!” The Sikh
said that “Isa” (Jesus) was thought by them to be “Ishur,--God
Almighty.” I replied that we too called Jesus, God!’
TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘_Oct. 30._--Many many thanks, mine own sweet Sister, for
yours of the 8th, and all your loving thought for Char.’s
comfort. You would keep the bird in a golden cage, lined with
soft fur! But Char. is a bit of a wild bird, and likes to fly
about freely. The fur will be delicious on cold mornings and
evenings; but to wear it all day, even in December, would feel
exhaustingly warm. One needs to adapt oneself perpetually to
the changes of temperature in December and January; this needs
a little Indian experience and common-sense. The want of these
two things is one cause of Indian break-downs. Inexperienced
Missionaries think it safe to do in India what they have done
in old England! If you consider, love, that I have kept my
health, with some few interruptions, for almost sixteen years
in India, you may allow that I am a fair manager of it. I am
thought rather a wonder.
‘As for having “a really nice capable maid to wait upon” me;--O
dear!--_dear_--DEAR!! I might fill a whole line with such
exclamations, to express my almost _horror_ at such a proposal!
Europeans, except good working Missionaries, who can _help_,
are dreadful anxieties and troubles. An Englishwoman in service
is always a _possible_ invalid, and a _probable_ grumbler. I
never in my life could stand a person running after me and
watching me. I have an ayah to attend to my room,--and could
have plenty of darzies to mend my clothes, but I prefer doing a
little stitching myself. I am not always tumbling down like a
ninepin,--but I would _prefer_ tumbling once or twice a month
to having any one always watching me. Dear Minnie insists on
handing me to my room at night. You must remember that I am the
adopted Aunt of a Doctor Miss Sahiba.
‘This is rather a frisky note, darling. When I am a _real_
invalid, I am said to be a good one; but I am strongly averse
to becoming one when I am in fair health.... I know how dear
Laura and Leila would constantly be putting soft fetters of
love round me; but they would find me an obstreperous bird. I
should break the fetters by sudden astonishing efforts,--as I
fled from the Doctor lady who came from Amritsar. I knew that
the Weitbrechts wanted her to see me. After breakfast she went
with Dr. W. into his study, to look at something. I saw my
opportunity, hurried down the long stair, and into my duli;--
‘“They’re gone! she’s gone,--over, etc.”
I knew that I was safe, as Batala has twelve entrances; and no
one could tell which I had taken. It was rare fun, and seemed
to do me more good than physic could have done. So take no
anxious thought about me, love.’
The being ‘handed to her room at night’ was found to be a necessity in
her old age. After spending the evening in Sonnenschein with the younger
ladies,--generally either reading aloud, or playing games,--she had to
go out into the front verandah, and to pass along it till she reached
the door of her own little ‘Sunset’ dwelling. If alone, she was apt to
stumble, or to run against something, and the regular plan was adopted
of either Miss Dixie or one other of her nieces always accompanying the
older lady, on this small nightly pilgrimage.
TO MISS LAURA VERONICA TUCKER.
‘_Nov. 18, 1891._
‘Oh, dearest Laura Veronica, what a warm capital web you
have spread for her whom you call Fairy Frisket. Certainly I
look very unlike a _fairy_; and a very comfy rug is far more
suitable for me than gossamer wings or glittering wand! A bibi
expressed surprise to-day that a weak old woman could sing; but
I told her that I sing every day in my life. If I stopped for a
week, perhaps my throat might find out my age! I must not give
it a chance of so doing. The same with my feet; the dear kind
E----s were always offering me a drive, and I often took one
with L.; but--oh, my friends, Misses Feet, you had to do your
work too. No laziness tolerated; or you might presume to fancy
yourselves antiquated. Now I am back in harness again, have
been to the city to-day, and intend to visit a village-school
to-morrow, unless Daisy Key go instead. She is far better at
teaching than I am. But I am afraid that I have not yet thanked
my sweet niece for the capital rug. I do so now with a kind
kiss....
‘Yesterday, in the railway carriage, I offered a wee book
by Spurgeon to a tall big man, connected with the railway
department. He asked me immediately if I were related to
----, and gave his opinion that ---- was a real good man.
My frank companion expressed, however, a general dislike to
Missionaries. “Why do you not like us?” I asked mildly. He had
evidently not been fortunate in some that he had known,--their
names were not familiar to me. He disliked their preferring
working on Natives instead of their own countrymen, and
evidently thought them too comfortable! But what _can_ I
do, when my dear relatives send such charming gifts to your
attached old Auntie Char?’
TO MR. AND MRS. ST. GEORGE TUCKER.
_‘Dec. 12, 1891._
‘Your very handsome and very kind--only _too_ handsome--gift
reached me safely this morning; just the right time for the
arrival, as the air in the morning is very keen, and then fur
is a real comfort. Much has your fine jacket been admired,--so
“beautiful,” so “grand.” But it does not look unsuitable even
for Missionary use. Very many affectionate thanks for this
token of your affection. It quite strikes as well as gratifies
me, to see how little difference _sixteen_ years of absence
seems to make as regards the loving-kindness of my dear
relatives. They do not seem to forget the aged Missionary, or
weary of showing her tokens of love.
‘We are to have an interesting Ordination Service next Sunday.
F. M. and I. U., Converts from Muhammadanism, tried and true,
are to be appointed Deacons. We expect the Bishop on Thursday.
He will, we hope, lay the first stone of our Mission School
Building, so called,[133] on Saturday.... I have begged that the
building may be very plain,--dear Mr. Baring gave the money for
it.... It is a great matter for some religious instruction to be
given to more than 130 boys from Heathen and Muhammadan homes.’
TO MRS. HAMILTON.
_‘Dec. 21._
‘We have been having a busy time.... On Sunday there was the
interesting Ordination. To-day the dear Bishop kindly laid the
first stone of Mr. Baring’s generous gift to Batala, a building
for the City School. A number of Muhammadans and Hindus were
present; but the service was most distinctly Christian. The
_Gloria Patri_ was repeated again and again; the precious
Name of Christ was not only on the stone, but in the prayers
and portion of the Bible read.... At the gathering I saw many
interesting persons, both English and Native.... The Bishop is
such a lovable man; gentle, bright, affectionate; showing not a
particle of pride. We do not call him “My lord,” but “Bishop.”’
* * * * *
‘(_Undated._)--Beloved Sister, this is the last Sunday of 1891;
may 1892 be rich in blessings to you and your loved ones of two
generations. “He leadeth me,--oh, blessed thought!”
‘It is good for me to be a while in this quiet place.[134]
Batala at Christmas time is too bustling. Merry festivities
are more delightful to the young than the old. I expected dear
Herbert and Mr. Channing to dine with us; and to my surprise we
sat down twelve. It was all right; we should use hospitality
without grudging, especially at Christmas time; but you know
that Char. has a sorrow at her heart. I retired from the merry
games, to prepare for the next day’s long journey. O my Laura,
ask for me a gentle sympathising spirit,--
‘“To meet the glad with cheerful smiles,
And to wipe the weeping eyes.”’
Was the ‘sorrow’ here spoken of, the delicate health of ‘her Laura?’ If
the sister in India was ageing fast, the sister in England was failing
fast. Parted as they had been during sixteen long years, the loving
sympathy between them was as fresh and ardent as ever. A dread had long
oppressed Mrs. Hamilton that ‘her Char.’ would soon be called away. But
though the summons to the elder sister was indeed not far distant, that
to the younger sister was to arrive first.