A Lady of England 45
‘_April 20._--The weather is gradually getting warmer. The
thermometer in my verandah to-day, where it had been in the
shade all the day, was about 107°, that is more than twenty
degrees hotter than I have ever seen it in the most sultry day
in England. But do not suppose that I mind the heat, or that
it has hitherto done me the slightest harm. Thank God, I am in
perfect health, not in the slightest degree feverish. I charmed
Margaret at dinner to-day. “You are better in the hot weather
than the cold,” she cried. “I never knew you ask for a second
help in the cold weather.” And the two poor dear girls opposite
me sat with plates sadly clean; neither of them would touch a
bit of meat.... Of course we shall have the weather a good deal
hotter presently, but then pankahs will be up.’
* * * * *
‘_May 8._--There is a little romance going on here. A little
native maiden was betrothed to a native lad. Before the
marriage came off, the destined bridegroom and his parents
became Christians. The girl’s parents wanted to break off the
match, and unite the girl to a heathen. But _her_ heart was set
on her young bridegroom. The case came before court,--Emily
thinks about a year ago. It was adjudged that the maiden was
too young to fix her own fate. But she is old enough now,
and she has kept true to her lover. The final decision must
be made in twenty-one days. The young girl--she looks such a
child--wants, I hear, to become a Christian. Emily fain would
ascertain whether she does so from love of religion, or only
from love for her boy. I hope to be at her baptism,--and her
wedding too, if all be well.’
* * * * *
‘_May 29._--I have done so few lessons to-day, I had better
set to them bravely. I have written out, large and black, so
that I may easily read in dim light, more than 1300 words, to
go over regularly every fortnight, masculine separated from
feminine nouns. I know others that I have not written down.
But, Laura dear, all these words--rather a tax on an old lady’s
memory--take one on but a small way in speaking this difficult
language.’
Early in June she yielded very reluctantly to Mrs. Elmslie’s pressure,
and consented to go for a short time to Dalhousie; and the letter
following was written at an inn on the way:--
‘DÂK BUNGALOW, _June 13, 1876_.
‘I have been giving dear Leila an account of the first part of
my journey; now I will go on with you. I slept a good deal in
the gari. I dreamed that I was talking with you about Margaret....
‘Well, I reached the dâk bungalow (kind of inn) early in the
morning, took early breakfast, and started in my duli (kind of
palanquin) at about 6.15. I wanted to start earlier, knowing
that I had a nineteen miles stage before me, and that the
day would probably be hot. I had nine men to carry me and my
luggage. They made little of it, but went at the rate of nearly
four miles an hour, including brief stoppages. Three times the
poor fellows asked for leave to stop and drink water. This
of course I granted. Twice I was asked for bakhshish; but I
declined giving any until I should arrive, and then if they
carried me nicely I promised them something.
‘They did carry me very nicely. When they had gone about ten
miles, and might be supposed to have grown pretty tired, then
they began to be lively, laughing and chatting together, I
suppose to beguile the way. It would be well if we took life’s
journey as patiently and cheerfully as these poor half-clad
mountaineers. _Note inserted._ Oh, doubtless it was a relay!...
‘The thunder has been grumbling. Perhaps I may take a little
walk before I start on my long night expedition. This seems to
be a lovely place, but of course I shall not walk in the heat
of the day....
‘It is indeed a miracle how a mere handful of Englishmen rule
such a country as this. Since I left Amritsar I have seen but
one English face, and that was the face of some one lying full
length in a duli which I passed. He was very likely ill. Yet
one feels oneself under a _very strong_ wing of the law,--far
more so than one does in England. There have I been travelling
with a band of natives to whom threepence is a good present
... my language, my religion, are strange, and yet I neither
receive nor fear the slightest disrespect. Is not this like a
miracle?
‘Thunder again! If I have a storm to-night in the mountains,
how sublime it will look!’
But though she enjoyed her time in the mountains, she was eager to return
to work; and even from Dalhousie her letters contain chiefly details of
what was being done, there or at Amritsar, in her absence. On the 18th of
July she was on the road; and again she wrote from an inn:--
‘I have bidden farewell to Dalhousie. The skies were weeping
violently when I started; so was not I!... Dalhousie is grandly
beautiful; but I have been asking myself why I have not been
in raptures with its beauties. I think that two things are
wanting to its perfection;--first, the soft blue haze which
one connects with distant mountains. High and hard, some
snow-crowned peak cuts the sky. You are told that it is a
hundred miles off. You don’t believe it! It is as clear and
sharp as if only two. Then water is a very great want, at
least to me. Certainly, there is the Ravi, one of the five
famous rivers of the Panjab; but at Dalhousie it looks, at
least in June, first cousin to a swamp. One wants waterfalls.
One-hundredth part--one-thousandth part--of Niagara, glorious
Niagara, would be a boon at Dalhousie....
‘It is a curious thing, dear Laura, that kind of _instinct_
which one acquires in India! I have often and often thought
on the subject. One feels as if one belonged to such a lordly
race. It is that odd kind of impression upon one that, though
one may _personally_ be weak as water, one forms a part of a
mysterious power. There is a kind of instinctive persuasion
that neither man nor beast would dare to attack one,--except
perhaps a vicious horse. One travels by night, without the
slightest protection, surrounded by half-clad, ignorant
semi-savages; one never dreams of fearing them. One takes one’s
early walk in a lonely place, where the cheetah or snake may
lurk, without the smallest alarm. They would not surely attack
one of the English!...’
CHAPTER III
A.D. 1876
CURIOUS WAYS
More than half of Charlotte Tucker’s first year in India was now over;
and still no thought of work for herself in Batala had arisen. She knew
about Batala, and was interested in the place, no doubt, as in all other
outlying parts where Missionary work had been even fitfully attempted.
But Amritsar was thus far her home; and there she expected to remain.
She continued to study hard and perseveringly, in preparation for fuller
work, often lamenting her own slowness in learning to speak; and already
she was making herself known and beloved by a few Indians,--either
Christian, or disposed towards Christianity.
After her return from Dalhousie she wrote in joyous strains: ‘Here I am
at dear Amritsar again, which I much prefer to the abode amongst the
clouds.’ There was some idea that she might have to go all the way back
to Dalhousie, to nurse a sick Missionary there; and she was perfectly
willing to do so, without hesitation on the score of fatigue, without
a thought of the long, troublesome journey. No one else could be so
well spared at that period from Amritsar as herself; and this she fully
realised. ‘If however dear Florrie rallies nicely,’ she wrote, ‘I have
not the slightest intention of going to cloudland again. Pankah-land
suits my taste better.’ Happily, it was not necessary for her to go.
It was in the spring or summer of this year that she began to name her
various new friends after certain jewels, according to her estimate of
their respective gifts and characters. She possessed, in imagination, a
jewelled bracelet, representing the different Missionary gentlemen of
her acquaintance,--Diamond, Opal, Amethyst, etc. A companion bracelet
was supposed to represent the Missionary ladies,--consisting of Diamond,
Sardonix, Onyx, etc. Also she had in mind ‘an extraordinary necklace,
Oriental pattern, formed of Native friends,’--those Indian Christians,
whom she had begun to know and to love, many of whom repaid her love, and
did not disappoint her trust in the coming years.
A little later, in the letter describing this favourite idea, she adds:
‘Now we come to my yellow girdle, studded with gems. This is composed of
dear ones in Old England; my own Laura being the Pearl nearest the heart.’
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