A Lady of England 41

A Lady of England 41

‘_Later._ Oh, such a pretty wedding! The little church fresh

white-washed within, clean as a wedding-cake. The porch almost

like a bower. A border of flowers on either side up the centre

made a kind of path. Then the presence of the school-girls

in their white chaddahs; the number of Natives in their

picturesque costumes,--both Christians and heathen, inside the

church and looking in from the outside,--all made a charming

scene.

 

‘But before we went to church, a Begum, a royal lady,

granddaughter of Shah-Soojah, came to see the fun. And only

fancy, Laura, I was left for perhaps a quarter of an hour to

entertain the fine old lady. Would not your Fred and Leila have

laughed to have seen me, making gallant efforts to keep up

conversation with my dreadfully bad Hindustani. I dashed at it,

tried to explain why I wore a black dress when I had lilac and

blue ones at Amritsar, told her that I had never been married,

answered questions regarding my family, etc. The Begum laughed,

and I laughed, for I knew that my Hindustani was very bad; but

I did remember always to use the respectful “Ap”[26] to the

princess.

 

‘Presently the dear old Missionary, Mr. Rudolph, appeared. The

“pardah”[27] lady, on seeing a man, hid behind an arm-chair.

But when I told her that it was “Rudolph Sahib,” the old lady

said that he was her father, and that she would make her salaam

to him. I hear that the Begum is almost a Christian, and she

can read. Wrapped in her chaddah, she walked with me to church,

and stayed through the service. I was close behind her. When it

was over, I managed to say a little sentence to her in rather

better Hindustani, “The Lord Jesus Christ is here; He gives

blessing.” The Begum gave a sound of assent.’

 

Next day, the first of December, Charlotte Tucker reached Amritsar,--the

spot which she fully expected to be her home for many a year to come.

But Amritsar was only a stage on the road to Batala, where her Indian

work really lay.

 

All who know aught of India know the name of ‘The Panjab’;[28] that

province to the far north, a land of five great rivers, where in Mutiny

days so much was done for the preservation of our Indian Empire.

Amritsar[29] is one of the larger cities of the Panjab, containing a

population of about 135,000 inhabitants,--Hindus, Muhammadans, and Sikhs.

It is the Holy City of the Sikhs, and has their ‘golden temple,’ wherein

they worship, and wherein also is kept their sacred book, the ‘Granth.’

 

Missionary work has been mainly carried on in the Panjab by the Church

Missionary Society; just as, in many parts of Bengal, Missionary work

has been mainly carried on by the Society for the Propagation of the

Gospel. Where the one great Church Society has obtained a footing, the

other great Church Society does not interfere in either case, but goes

elsewhere in the Mission field. It is greatly to be wished that this

spirit of courtesy were more widely seen in the working of Missions

generally among the heathen. During late years the ladies of the Church

Zenana Society have come in as an additional help to the Societies

above-named,--as true ‘handmaids,’ alike in the Panjab and in other parts

of India.

 

The Mission premises are about half-a-mile distant from the City of

Amritsar. A. L. O. E.’s first Indian home was here; in a bungalow,

surrounded by a large compound or garden which was part of the Mission

premises. When she arrived, in the beginning of December, roses were in

full bloom, as well as abundantly-flowering shrubs and creepers. The

great banyan-tree, which grew and still grows in front of the bungalow,

was soon named by Miss Tucker ‘The Mission Tree.’

 

A warm welcome was given to her by the Missionary ladies living

there:--Miss Emily Wauton, who still labours on in the same spot, though

nearly twenty years have passed since that day; Mrs. Elmslie, widow of

Dr. Elmslie, the Pioneer of Missionary work in Cashmere; Miss Florence

Swainson; and Miss Ada Smith;--not to speak of the C.M.S. Missionary

gentleman living close by.

 

After her wont, Miss Tucker was very eager, very bright, very anxious to

become immediately one of the little circle. That first evening, as they

sat round the table, she said: ‘I don’t want to be “Miss Tucker” here.

Can’t you all call me “Charlotte Maria”?’ The ladies naturally demurred.

‘We could not possibly,’ they said. Miss Tucker’s face fell a little;

then came a happy thought, and she brightened up. ‘Call me “Auntie,”’ she

said. ‘So many call me “Auntie.” All of you must do so.’

 

‘But we cannot directly. We don’t know you yet,’ objected the others

again.

 

She was very much delighted when Mr. Rowland Bateman, one of the

Missionaries, began the same evening, without hesitation, to speak to her

as ‘Auntie.’

 

Soon after, news came of the death of her brother, Mr. Henry Carre

Tucker. It was needful to arrange for her mourning; and pending the

arrival of other things, one of the younger ladies offered to alter

for her an old black silk dress which she had. Going to her room, the

young lady knocked and said, ‘Miss Tucker, may I have the dress now?’

No answer. Another attempt;--and ‘No Miss Tucker here!’ was the result.

‘Unless you call me “Auntie,” you will not have it.’ ‘But how can I so

soon? I don’t know you yet,’ was once more the unavailing plea. Miss

Tucker had her way, however; and thenceforward she became ‘Auntie’ to an

ever-increasing circle of nephews and nieces in India.

 

Some extracts from her own letters, written to Mrs. Hamilton in the

December of 1875, will give, far better than words of mine can do, the

impressions received in her new position.

 

‘_December 2, 1875._

 

‘It is early morning, before 6 A.M., my first morning in my

new home. A cock has been crowing, otherwise everything is

profoundly still. I hear a cart in the distance. You will like

to hear something of my surroundings.

 

‘Mrs. Elmslie came to meet me at the station; also Mr. Clark

and Mr. Baring. It was slightly bewildering, for, says Mr.

Clark, “the Bishop wants to see you; he and Miss Milman are to

go off by this train.” Now the thought most in my mind was, “I

won’t let poor dear Miss F.[30] think that I desert her for

new acquaintances.” She also was going on by the train; but

there was a pause at Amritsar station for perhaps a quarter of

an hour. So I had to be agreeable to the Bishop, Miss F., and

all,--and keep Mrs. Elmslie waiting besides.

 

‘This is a splendid room of mine ... about twenty-four feet

each way, and so lofty. I am surprised at the elegance of

these Indian bungalows. Please put from your mind all idea of

_hardship_.[31] I have now lived in four bungalows, and all

have elegant rooms, and there is such an air of refinement that

I have great doubts whether it would be the correct thing to

put out my hand and take a slice of bread off a plate. Mrs.

Elmslie is a lovely lady, tall, slight, fair; but however tall,

a lady every inch of her; she might be a Countess with her meek

dignity....’

 

‘_December 9._

 

‘I directed _via Brindisi_ my sad letters to the almost

broken-hearted mourners, and I thought, “I will write no more

by this mail. I should only write on one theme, my precious,

noble Henry.” But I have since thought that I was wrong in

this determination. My own sweet Laura will be closing a heavy

year.... If I can turn the channel of sad thoughts, it is better

that I should write, and not only on one theme. She will like

to hear of my home and my work, and I ought to write to the

darling!...

 

‘What shall I say of Mrs. Elmslie? She is one of a million. I

never met with any woman in my life so like an angel without

wings. Tall, fair, elegant, graceful, with a face that Ary

Scheffer might have chosen to paint for a seraph,--her soul

seems to correspond to her external appearance. Saintly as she

is, she is not in the _least_ gloomy; she tries to make all

happy, and is business-like and practical. Fitted to grace a

drawing-room, she throws her heart into school-work, and seems

to manage the house beautifully. It will give you an idea how

winning she is, when I tell you that Miss Wauton and Miss

Hasell call Mrs. Elmslie “Mother,” “Mother dear,” though the

name seems strange from one who looks quite as old as herself.

You should see Mrs. Elmslie with a black baby in her arms,

looking at it with such loving tenderness and pleasure too,

just as its guardian angel might....

 

‘I must not fill up all my letter with my sweet friend, and it

is nearly time that I should take my morning walk. I always

take a rapid one in the compound, which is large, with a good

many trees and nice flowering shrubs in it. I hope always to

keep up the habit, which is so very conducive to health; but of

course I shall not walk so _fast_ when the hot weather comes.

 

‘It may give you a little idea of life here, if I describe

yesterday’s occupations.

 

‘I rose about six, dressed, and wrote a little. My Ayah brought

me early breakfast. I went out and took my walk, then returned