A Lady of England 53

A Lady of England 53

‘You may rejoice to hear that we have got rid of our very

wicked cook.... But it is funny to have no cook at all!! Mrs.

Beutel’s old mother does all the cooking; perhaps Mrs. Beutel

helps a little; and it puts her quite into spirits. If we

were not likely to go into Amritsar in ten or eleven days, I

think that we should be obliged to procure a cook. It is a

most unusual thing for Europeans to cook in a Panjab _May_;

every day likely to get warmer and warmer! And if Mrs. J. fell

ill, as she did last year--her daughter is constantly off and

on with fever--where should we be? In a laughable dilemma, I

should say; for I don’t think that Mr. Beutel could cook; and I

am sure that _I_ can’t! I forget--“can’t” is not a Missionary

word! But I really don’t see what I could do, except boil eggs;

we have plenty of them. You know that Fairy Frisket did not

fancy a kitchen!

 

‘We have bread brought in regularly; for I did not think the

heavy, solid German home-made bread suitable for India. The

bread we get is so beautifully light. I do not know exactly

where it comes from,--I fancy from Gurdaspur or Amritsar. I am

not housekeeper.

 

‘What a greedy letter this seems! so much about eatables! But

it may help you to picture to yourself life at Batala. I am

very happy here.’

 

The end of May found her back again in Amritsar, but by no means

downhearted. The fresh check was evidently regarded by Miss Tucker as

only temporary.

 

‘_May 30._--It does my heart good to see Emily walking off to

her work, perhaps at 6 A.M., so brave and bright, with firm,

elastic tread.... Sweet Margaret has been very unwell. She looks

too much like the statue of an angel in white marble. But

she is better again; and if we can coax her back to her old

quarters here, and pet her to any extent--her medicine--I think

that she may weather the hot weather well.

 

‘As I have little need of a separate kahar here, I was advised

to part with V. I tried to do so, but I really could not.

The poor fellow pleaded,--it was so hard to get work,--and I

remember how miserable he looked when out of situation before.

Then he is a married man, and such an intelligent, faithful

creature.[66] So I gave in! It seems to me very hard to cast

off good servants, just because the perpetual changing about

makes one rather a supernumerary. V. is invaluable to me at

Batala; and I hope to return to Batala. I was rather pleased at

C.’s pleading for his companion. He seemed quite eloquent; but

I confess that I did not understand much of his eloquence; only

he evidently did not want poor V. to be cut adrift. I would at

any time, if troubles arose, trust my life either to C. or V. I

get quite interested in some of the servants, and they seem to

be really affectionate. They are much like children.’

 

* * * * *

 

‘AMRITSAR, _June 11, 1877_.--Emily said quietly to me

yesterday, “You certainly have wonderful health.” Not that

I was well during my last trying time at Batala; but I have

surprised my friends by getting all right again so very

rapidly. The heat is very moderate as yet. I have only once

this year had the thermometer in my sleeping room up to 90°. It

seldom rises above 85° or 86°, which is nothing.’

 

* * * * *

 

‘_June 22._--The banyan-tree has dropped its brown leaves at

last. Fancy a tree waiting till May or June before it will put

off its old dress! It waits till all its new leaves are well

out; and in midsummer throws off the withered ones. It is a

grand tree; the one here is a fine one, but not to be compared

to the one at Batala.

 

‘The quite new school at Batala, the first _Boys’_ School in

which Christianity is taught, has already risen to 175 pupils.

The house is too small, and I. D.[67] is going to give up his

for it, and take another. The religious instruction has been

given by three natives.’

 

* * * * *

 

‘_June 30._--Dear Emily is done up. She actually asked me for

an amusing book, feeling evidently fit for little but to lie on

the sofa and read. She overworks, and the season tells on her.

When dear Leila happens to be writing to Bella Frances, would

she kindly ask her to send me by post “Fairy Know-a-bit,” and

“Fairy Frisket,” and “Pride and his Prisoners,” my funniest

tales. We have three trying months at least to come; and I want

to keep my ladies as cheerful as I can. They have not much time

for reading, except when poorly, and then a laugh is medicine.’

 

* * * * *

 

‘_July 2._--The work is going on at Batala, love, though we are

absent. The Bible-woman, lately sent, who was here to-day, has

access into nearly double the number of zenanas that Florrie

and I had. There is also daily bazaar-preaching; and I. D.

tells me that he has great hopes from the new Batala Boys’

School, where the little lads listen readily to daily religious

instruction. The women, I hear, want me back; but I do not see

my way to returning till the rains are over. It would not do

to dwell in a house which might be surrounded by water.’

 

* * * * *

 

‘_July 14._--It was so nice last Wednesday welcoming my

dharm-nephew[68] back to Amritsar. Dharm is a good word to

distinguish my Missionary relatives from my relatives by birth.

A Godmother is a _Dharm_-mai. The Natives themselves have put

me up to adopting the distinction. One of them asked Emily

after me as her “dharm-poti,” (religion-aunt). My dharm-nephew

was only two days in Amritsar; he is off to Dhamsala, to be out

of the heat of the plains. He looked better than I had hoped to

see him, and just his own bright self.’

 

TO ---- ----

 

‘_July 20, 1877._

 

‘Mr. Clark told us the other evening that he had had an hour’s

interview with a Brahmin, who has come from beyond Benares.

This man’s views remind one of the Brahmo Somaj; but God

grant that this Hindu may find more light than those Hindu

Unitarians ever found. He is a man of great courage; he has

flung aside the prejudices of his caste; he vehemently opposes

idol-worship, and will readily eat with Christians. One of his

special difficulties in regard to our faith is, I believe, the

difficulty of reconciling God’s justice with the punishment of

the Innocent. The Brahmin is a gifted, eloquent man, and many

go to hear him.

 

‘Margaret and I were taking a moonlight drive after the heat

of the day, with lightning flickering in the sky, when we

passed a house in which I knew that the Brahmin has taken up

his abode. It is some little way out of the city, and is a

European bungalow. I pointed out to Margaret a little crowd in

the compound, in the picturesque white Oriental costume, and

told her that it was formed of those who were listening to the

preacher.

 

‘Margaret stopped the carriage, and we tried to catch the words

which could reach us at the distance. They were, however, few;

so we got out of the carriage, and without going near the crowd

drew a little nearer and nearer to the place where the Brahmin

was addressing his audience. We were still too far off to hear

much, and there was too much of Hindi mixed with his Urdu to

make his language clear; but we could see the man’s eloquent,

animated gestures, and hear the rich tones of his voice.

 

‘It was a very picturesque scene; the mingled torchlight,

moonlight, and heat-lightning,--the quaint, white-robed

crowd,--the man who has dared to break through so much, who

calls himself a Luther, telling idolaters of the folly of

idol-worship. I should think that it would be wise to place

in communication with this remarkable man some of our most

talented converts from Hinduism--not Muhammadanism.’

 

TO MRS. HAMILTON.

 

‘_Aug. 11, 1877._--I missed a grand opportunity the other day

of killing a centipede. It lay so quiet, as if to invite me to

make myself illustrious. But I hate crunching creatures, so

called out for some one to kill my centipede.... It is not fear

of being bitten, but dislike of killing. The ladies think that

it would not do for me to keep house, for that I should spoil

the servants. I _did_ give C. a decided rebuke the other day

for beating his wife. He promised me to be kind in future.’

 

‘_Aug. 13._--I have this morning received my precious Laura’s

letter, with a request for a certain prayer--which I shall

certainly remember. If a feeling of fear comes over my Laura,

it must surely be as regards the _act_ of departure, not what

follows; for there is “no condemnation” to Christ’s people, no

death in the real sense of the word.

 

‘But why, love, should we fear the act of departing? How

many, many, pass Jordan, as it were, dry-shod? Remember how

peacefully sweet Fanny sank to rest,--dearest Mother,--how

my Letitia’s face was lighted up with a smile,--how our

Bible-woman at Batala sang aloud a happy hymn within a few

hours of her going! To me it seems such a simple thing for

the--I had almost said _imprisoned_ soul, to leave its “cottage

of clay,”--for the bird, as soon as fledged, to spread its

wings! We are winged creatures, and it seems a humiliation to

be creeping on earth so long. Only think what the first sight

of the Lord will be! I am not sure whether some departing ones

do not see Him before the last breath is drawn.’