A Lady of England 44
FROM MRS. ELMSLIE TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘_Jan. 13._
‘I am sorry to have been unable to write to you sooner, as
I should have wished to tell you how much we love your dear
sister, and how truly she has already become an honoured and
trusted member of our Mission circle. You know her gentle,
loving, winning ways too well to doubt our soon learning
to love and cherish her; but I dare say you also know her
unselfish character so well, that you will often feel anxious
lest she should suffer on that account. She had not been one
hour with us before I found out that it is her delight to be
giving to others the comforts and honours which are due to
herself; and it shall be my endeavour that she shall not lose
one iota of anything that should help her, or of anything that
is truly good for her. Being the housekeeper here, I can manage
this....
‘Her understanding of the language and character of the people
is quite wonderful. I hardly think any one ever read character
so clearly and truly as she does,--or so charitably. She sees
good in all. And when she must acknowledge some blemishes,
she finds some kind excuse for them. “Thinketh no evil” seems
written on her brow. I believe she will do much for India, if
spared; she sees where teaching is needed, and her ready mind
so cleverly weaves the lessons into sweet stories which, when
read by the people, will do wonders in opening their minds.
I hope she will be persuaded to go to the hills in summer,
for this work, which is so peculiarly her own, can be carried
on there as well as here, and at one-thousandth part of the
expense to physical strength.’
C. M. T. TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.
‘_Feb. 1, 1876._
‘I feel as if one of my chief works here must be to try and
keep up the spirits of my poor, anxious, overworked companions.
I cannot possibly take much work off their hands; but my
loving, clinging Margaret seems to feel it such a comfort to
have an _elderly_ friend to lean on.’
Towards the end of February Miss Tucker went, with Mrs. Elmslie and two
Bible-women, on her first itinerating expedition,--not, as she herself
said, to use her lips, but to use her eyes. Writing while away, she
says:--
‘Behold us here, my Queen Lily[39] and I, encamped in the midst
of a Sikh village, and living in a tent, without lock or key,
with as little sensation of danger as I had at Woodlands or
Firlands....
‘It was indeed romantic to travel along that wild path by
starlight.... Do you remember the well-known engraving of Una
with her lion entering a witch’s cave? Now, as I jogged along
in my duli,[40] while Margaret rode on her white pony, she made
me think of that picture of Una. She is so fair, so graceful,
so pure-looking, with her chiselled profile and her sweet
__EXPRESSION__; I could not make out, however, anything that would
do for the lion.
‘Dear Leila’s most useful bag is now fastened up in our tent....
Poor Sarah Jones’ night-bag is on my bed; please ask dear Leila
to tell her so, when she sees her, with my kind remembrances.
‘Oh, a Sikh village is a curious place; built of mud, and
pretty thickly populated, it reminds me of an ant-hill. I
wonder how such houses stand the rains. The people are not
very dark, and they seem to be very friendly. It is not from
rudeness that they crowd about one, and examine one’s dress.
‘It would have amused you to have seen Margaret and me
perambulating the village, going through its muddy lanes;
sometimes so narrow that one could have touched the walls on
either hand,--or nearly so. Do not suppose that we walked
alone. We had wished to take a quiet stroll together, but this
was out of the question. We carried a train with us; and when
we had entered a tiny court, inhabited by four families, when
I raised my eyes I saw a set of spectators perched on the
wall above, like so many sparrows, gazing down on the English
ladies. One had not in the least the feeling of being amongst
enemies,--only once or twice I saw a man look sternly at us.
I concluded that these men were Muhammadans, of whom there
are, I believe, a few in this village. The Sikhs seem to be
a good-humoured, friendly set, who have not the slightest
objection to our speaking as much about our religion as we
like. Some of the people here--like the Pandit[41]--know Urdu,
but by no means all of them.
‘But, Laura, you who have an eye for the picturesque, and a
soul for the romantic, you should have had a glimpse of us
yesterday in the Pandit’s house, at evening prayer! The long
mud-built room looked strange enough by day; but at night seen
by the gleam of one lamp, it looked--like the entrance to a
cave or a catacomb.
‘There sat the Pandit on his large mat, and at a little
distance his wife on a very small one, the dull lamp throwing
their black shadows on the mud wall behind them. A black
buffalo calf was at one end of the apartment; but the place was
too dark for us to see much of it. The Pandit bending over his
book was a study for an artist, with his white turban and his
extraordinary spectacles. I was asked to choose the chapter;
I chose Romans xii. The Pandit had such difficulty in finding
the place, that it seemed evident that he is not familiar with
the Epistles. But he must have been pleased with the chapter,
when he did find it; for he not only read it, but the one which
followed it. Then came a long Sanscrit prayer.’
* * * * *
‘_March 7._--One of the things most admired has been a prism,
which I have as a letter-weight. The splendid colours which
through it an Indian sun casts on the walls excite much
admiration and pleasure. My little Ayah to-day asked me what
my Zouave had cost. I should hardly call her _my_ Ayah, as,
luckily for me, I have only one-third part of the little woman.
To have a whole Ayah would be too much of a good thing.
‘I took your _Illustrated_ yesterday to show to the
Mother-in-law of the German Missionary.... I tried as I walked to
the house to get up a little German; but, O Laura, the Urdu had
driven it almost all out of my head. If I wished to call up a
German word, up would come an Urdu one! I did indeed remember
“wunderbar,” and “shrecklich,” so that helped me with the
_Illustrated_, but they would not have been very useful in a
lengthy conversation.
‘If I had had time to write yesterday, I might have given
you such an interesting account of the Panjabi Munshi, which
I heard from Mr. H. This Munshi, I forget his name, is the
son of one of the four priests of the Golden Temple, and a
man of character, some talent, and influence. Mr. H., who is
translating some of the Bible into Panjabi, wanted ----‘s
assistance. The Munshi courteously declined, as he feared
that the Bible would be contrary to the “Granth,” the Sikh
scriptures. These scriptures, so far as they go, Mr. H. says,
are not bad at all; and true Sikhs detest idolatry. “Well,”
says Mr. H., “both you and I worship the Great God. We will
make a bargain. If in the Bible we meet with anything against
the Great God, we will close the book at once.” The Munshi
instantly closed with the offer; and the result is that at last
he has told Mr. H. that there is no book in the world like the
Bible. When the Munshi’s sister lay dying, he nursed her night
and day, and used to carry to her what he had been reading with
Mr. H.
‘The Munshi’s father, the priest, seemed to have had rather a
natural fear of his son’s imbibing what he would consider wrong
doctrine. He therefore, with two friends, made the Munshi read
over to them what he had been busy about with the Christian
Sahib. After a while the priest observed, “At first I listened
as a critic; now I listen with interest.”
‘What an honest, conscientious man the Munshi is, was shown by
his conduct to a rich tradesman in the city. This rich man paid
the Munshi to come and read the “Granth” to him,--I suppose
for amusement, as he himself is a Hindu and idolater. When
---- came to read, he saw an idol in front of the Hindu, and
the Sikh positively refused to open the “Granth”--his sacred
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