A Lady of England 89

A Lady of England 89

 ‘I had an animated conversation with these burly fellows--not

the birds, but the men--if that could be called a conversation,

where the talking was almost entirely on one side. I had my

Parable of the Two Paths with me, and spoke very plainly about

Paradise and Hell;--and they listened to the old lady with

perfect good-humour. I dare say that the bold falconers were

rather surprised to find such an apparition in the village; for

they seemed to have nothing to do with Batala, where of course

my face is very familiar.

 

‘As I was returning in my little duli, I saw a bullock-cart in

front, with a kind of red, dome-shaped vehicle on it, which

of course contained some pardah-lady, perhaps a bride. I

noticed that the curtain was drawn back. Probably the prisoned

inmate of the red cage had caught sight of the duli, and was

curious to see its occupant. As my kahars went faster than the

bullocks, I passed the red cage, and a bright jewel-bedizened

lady--smiling, as if amused at seeing a white woman--exchanged

brief glances with me. I thought her a pretty creature. I

wonder what she thought of the old lady who smiled at her.’

 

[Illustration: _Taken at Amritsar about 1882_

 

_F. Jenkins Heliog Paris_]

 

The New Year begins with a line from Mrs. Wade to Mrs. Hamilton, in

reference to the recent Conference:--

 

‘AMRITSAR, _New Year’s Day, 1883_.

 

‘I wish you could have seen dear Miss Tucker as President of

our Lahore Ladies’ Conference. She did all so perfectly; one

only feared her being over tired, but I think she is stronger

than she was some months ago. We had the pleasure of her

staying a night with us on her way; and her walking powers are

wonderful! You will no doubt have a report of the Conference,

and of her solemn and helpful words on John xiii., as it is to

be printed in England.’

 

Although Mrs. Wade could speak of her ‘walking powers’ as ‘wonderful,’

Miss Tucker had at this period hardly the same unvarying good health as

in earlier years. A few days later she was laid by with an attack of

‘shingles,’ with pain in the side. The Native doctor, called in, informed

her that nothing was wrong with either lungs or heart,--the pain which

troubled her being ‘simply from the nerves,’ which were ‘affected by

the eruption.’ Miss Tucker assured him that she was not nervous. Upon

which, as she relates, ‘the Hindu doctor smiled quietly, and gave me

to understand that nerves are real things. He had not meant that I was

fanciful. So the whole thing was simple enough,’ she philosophically

adds. ‘To make a bull, I had a little toothache in my side.’ The attack

gave way readily.

 

‘_Jan. 25, 1883._--One is so apt to feel for the poor,

down-trodden Muhammadan women, that, until I began to read a

novelette written by a Native, I had no idea how they sometimes

turn the tables on their husbands. I am reading the book with

N. N., who quite confirms the truthfulness of the picture. It

appears that a woman will sometimes be asked a question ten

times by her husband, before she vouchsafes an answer. Some

women burn the soles of their shoes, and make a preparation

of them to put on the eyes, believing that by this strange

superstitious means they will always keep their husbands _under

their feet_! With all the talk about Woman’s Rights, we have

hardly got so far as this!’

 

* * * * *

 

‘_Feb. 20._--Mera Bhatija and I took rather a long walk

this afternoon, to look at a lovely little mosque. I had

said before to Francis, “How is it that the mosques are so

beautiful, and our churches here--unless expensively built--so

ugly?” Francis gave me a simple but good reason: “We want

people to go _into_ our churches; the Muhammadans worship

outside theirs.” You see, love, we have first to think of room

and comfort; so beauty gets shoved into a corner.

 

‘We went to look more closely at the graceful mosque, to see

if we could gain hints. I made a rough sketch of the front.

Francis says that it would be much too expensive for us to have

anything so ornamental. We want room for one hundred people at

least; and that dot of a mosque would hold comparatively very

few. Mera Bhatija thinks that we might indulge in two minarets,

and ornament our church with clay vessels turned upside down,

and painted white, with a little Cross on the top of each. We

must have a good-sized Cross, gilt, to glitter in the sun, on

the top of all.... The Cross is our Banner, the Sign of Faith in

the Son of God, rejected by Muhammadan and Hindu! It should

crown--and sparkle on, too--every religious edifice in this

land.’

 

* * * * *

 

‘_March 8, 1883._--I had an extraordinary conversation with

a Muhammadan boy to-day. His name is Y. He lives in what I

consider a nest of bigotry. I am more likely to have to dispute

there than in any other place in Batala. I had with me, besides

my Bible, the “Mirror of the Heart,” which contains beautifully

coloured pictures of the human heart, with allegorical vices

represented by various animals, the serpent, rat, etc. It is

a valuable help to a Missionary. The first heart is that of

the natural man, before repentance; the second, that of a man

repenting. The fourth is a horrid heart, of a dingy colour,

with _a black cross_ in it, and seven devils, mounted on the

bad emblems, wanting to get in. It is the heart of a hypocrite.

Well, dear one, I was showing this picture in a Zenana, and

a grave-looking boy, to whom before I had given a portion of

scripture, and who I think once studied in our Mission-School,

Y., was close beside me. When I had gone over the various

pictures, I said to Y., “Which of these hearts,”--showing the

first and second,--“is like yours?” I meant, “Are you repenting

or unrepenting?” The boy, perhaps fourteen years of age, would

not agree that either was like his. To my surprise he made me

turn over to the fourth heart, and told me _that_ was like his.

 

‘“But it is not a Muhammadan’s heart,” said I. “You see the

Cross is in it,--but it is black.”

 

‘“And how do you know,” said the boy gravely, “_that the

Cross is not in my heart_?” I think that he repeated this

touching question afterwards. In short, he kept firmly to

his declaration that _that_ heart was the one like his. What

is passing in that lad’s soul? Does he consider himself a

hypocrite, with seven devils surrounding him? If so, he must

be a hypocrite as regards Muhammadanism?--for he does not

pretend to be a Christian. I suspect that this may be the case.

He _has_ a cross, but it is a black one, because he does not

confess the Saviour.

 

‘There is a great change in dear ----‘s mother. (You remember

perhaps the dear lad in a bigoted home, who so loved the Lord

Jesus, bore persecution for Him, and died in peace.) My last

visit to that house was so different to the first! On the

first occasion I left the place so shocked, that I uttered the

exclamation as I went, “God have mercy on you!” I do not think

that I ever left any other house with such an exclamation on my

lips. The last time I left the house with the exclamation, “God

grant!” The mother had told me the story of her eldest brother,

a policeman, who, like her son, had become Christian in heart,

and incurred the fierce anger of his father by speaking

against Muhammad. A Suni[112] had stabbed the policeman in the

side with a knife; but the Christian refused to prosecute.

He was very gentle, just like the nephew who followed in his

steps. The policeman left Lahore,--this was more than twenty

years ago,--and has never been heard of since. Probably he is

numbered in the noble army of martyrs.

 

‘I said, “I think that both your brother and son are with

the Lord Jesus.” “_Without doubt!_” cried this once bigoted

woman. I urged her to follow them, and asked her if she had no

love for the Lord in her heart. “He is the Apple of my eye,”

she replied. You must not suppose, love, that there is any

immediate prospect of Baptism; but I talked to her about it;

and, as I have mentioned, left the house with a “God grant!”’

 

* * * * *

 

‘_March 24, 1883._--We cannot see one step before us! I was

thinking to-day, as I was going to the City, where my work

_seems_ of so little use, “Abraham had to wait for twenty years

before God kept His promise to him.” Perhaps it may be twenty

years before the promise is fulfilled--fully--to me, “Your

labour is not vain in the Lord.”

 

‘O the utter carelessness of some of the women, who will

interrupt the most solemn, heart-searching conversation with

a question about my dress, or a request for a pin. They seem

so utterly frivolous! Then those who do think, and have some

concern for religion, are such earnest Muhammadans; it is with

them a matter of _heart-love_! It is a mystery how it should be

so, when Muhammad was not only a murderer and profligate, but

has lowered woman altogether; but it seems especially the women

who delight in his false religion. They do not care for its

having no proofs; they _love_ it.’

 

* * * * *

 

‘_March 28._--I had rather an interesting visit to-day, which

you may like to hear about.

 

‘I went to the house of a Maulvi ... I had books to take to his

sweet young daughter; and soon I found that the ladies had gone

to a wedding; but as two servants were in the house, I thought

it better to stop and give the “good news” to them. Whether

they cared about it or not, I know not. After my interview with

them, I was about to leave, when who should come in but the

master of the house, the Maulvi himself. (He is not the same

one who was so proud, that I could not help an unpremeditated

rebuke escaping from my lips.) This Maulvi was fresh from a

pilgrimage to Mecca; but the merit ascribed to a Haji did not

seem to make him proud at all.

 

‘He courteously addressed me, sat down, and prepared for a

_tête-à-tête_ with the Englishwoman. He told me that he had

none of our books; that he wanted a controversial one, that he

might compare the two religions. There was no appearance of

bigotry at all. He asked me whether we read prayers. I told

him that we not only had regular prayer, but that we sang

God’s praises,--which the Muhammadans never do,--and opening

my Bible, I read aloud several passages in which Hasrat David

(Saint David) commands us to do so. My gentle Maulvi made no

observation on this proof that Christians pay more obedience

than Muhammadans do to the commands of one whom _both_

acknowledge as a Prophet