CHAPTER VIIA.D.1878PERSECUTIONS

‘Mr. Beutel told me with regret that Mr. Baring, on account of low funds, had desired him on Nov. 1st to stop two village-schools near Batala, in which 50 or 60 boys are receiving instruction. I had my Laura’s £5—grown to £5, 10s.—half of her handsome gift, of which Margaret has the other half. This will keep the village schools going till April; and by that time, please God, others may send help.... People do not seem to care forvillageschools. Governmentdoes not. And the people—our dear Natives—are so anxious to have them. The nicest boys seem the village ones.’

An undated letter belongs, probably, to about this time.

‘I think I mentioned to you that a troop of guests invaded my poor Margaret almost in the middle of the night, 3A.M.She had too much bustle, too much discomfort. She fell ill, as was almost to be expected; but I left her up again, and going to work. When she was lying on her sick-bed,—lovely she looked, with her soft pink cheeks, and her long golden hair hanging loose,—I went and had a chat with her. She has had too few chats with those whom she loves since going to live at the Orphanage.... Says Margaret, “What caps are you going to take to your nephew’s?” “Oh, killing caps,” said I. Perhaps they would look killing if Margaret wore them! She would not believe me,—her playful banter, her arch smile, so reminded meof my Laura! Margaret went on exactly as you would have done. She was certain that my velvet cap must want a new ruche; would I send over a whole set of caps for her to improve? It would amuse her, she said. The Doctor came in, when I was having one of my playful chats with Margaret; and he highly approved of my giving her a little laugh.... She called me “sparkling champagne.” There is a fine name for a Missionary Miss Sahiba! Fancy my discovering one day that, in her crowded little dwelling, she had so emptied herself of needful comforts, that she had not so much as a basin to wash in. If she wished to wash her hands, she must stoop or kneel to perform the ablution in her bath! Off went I to the city, and procured a toilette-set for our house in Batala, which Margaret has the use of till we go,—when I hope that she will return to the Bungalow.’

The above must have been written before her visit to Murree, already mentioned. By the middle of October she was on the point of again starting for Batala; and she wrote cheerily beforehand, on the 15th:—

‘Many, many thanks to my own sweet Laura for the pretty sketch of what was once to me a very happy home. I am so pleased that your hand has not lost its skill. I am in great hopes that, like myself, you may have renewed vigour as you walk down the incline of life’s hill. My companions here wonder at me. In another month I shall have been two years in India,—only two months, journeys included, spent in the Hills; all the remaining twenty-two in thePlains, with one peculiarly unhealthy season, and another of unusually prolonged heat;—and yet I am just as strong and well as if I had been just sauntering about an English garden all the time....‘I am considered to have a wonderful constitution; and as my Laura is my own sister, I always hope that she has one also....‘Take no fears about Batala. Fear is another thing with which Missionaries should have nothing to do. It seems to me that English folk in India rather change in character. I never imagined the effect of being in a land like this, where you belong to a conquering race. I must not just say that no one seems afraid of anything, for that would be an exaggeration; but physical courage seems to come quite naturally. Those who might be timid girls in England fearlessly travel at night, quite alone—save for the company of wild-looking natives,—through lonely mountain-passes, perhaps through lightning and storm, with the possibility of meeting cheetahs, bears, and snakes. I feel no more afraid of being at Batala, with orwithoutMr. Beutel, than you would of sleeping in a London hotel.’

‘I am considered to have a wonderful constitution; and as my Laura is my own sister, I always hope that she has one also....

‘Take no fears about Batala. Fear is another thing with which Missionaries should have nothing to do. It seems to me that English folk in India rather change in character. I never imagined the effect of being in a land like this, where you belong to a conquering race. I must not just say that no one seems afraid of anything, for that would be an exaggeration; but physical courage seems to come quite naturally. Those who might be timid girls in England fearlessly travel at night, quite alone—save for the company of wild-looking natives,—through lonely mountain-passes, perhaps through lightning and storm, with the possibility of meeting cheetahs, bears, and snakes. I feel no more afraid of being at Batala, with orwithoutMr. Beutel, than you would of sleeping in a London hotel.’

FROM MRS. ELMSLIE TO MRS. HAMILTON.‘Oct. 18, 1877.‘I have just returned from seeing our darling off to Batala. I know you will be sorry to hear she has gone there again; and Miss Wauton, Mr. Clark, and I have tried hard to prevent it,—in vain! She thinks it her duty to go, and she makes it her pleasure. How we miss her here, I cannot tell you. She is beloved and honoured by rich and poor, young and old. She is our Sunshine. Her bright fancies, her quick perceptions, her wise suggestions, are invaluable to all of us in the Mission.‘While she frets over her want of power in speaking Urdu and Panjabi, we are rejoicing, not only in her power of writing for the people, but in her wonderful perception of the national character, her insight into the weaknesses and also into the virtues of our Native friends, Christian and heathen. Her loving, unselfish ways are wonderfully soothing and sustaining; and life has seemed to me a different thing since God brought her to us.‘She has been wonderfully free of fever during the past year; and the excitability which used to make me anxious has quite passed away. I think she has been looking quite lovely of late; the expression of her dear face has been so restful, so sweet, so angel-like. She has been a little less thin too, and has been wearing morebecoming caps and bonnets. We find it necessary to look after her in such sublunary things; and many a laugh she has at our anxiety about her appearance. You asked me to tell you of anything she ever needs; and I think you may like to know that she has no intermediate dress for everyday use; nothing between the dark green cashmere and a very pale kind of Chinese silk.‘A light material of a rather dark grey colour, nicely made up with a tunic bodice and belt, would be very useful to her. But what would she say to me, if she thought I had written this? Another thing is afeatherpillow. Such a thing is not to be had in India; and her dear head is, I am sure, often tired. We put our only one into her gari just now, hoping she would not notice it. Off went her coach, and we were so pleased to think it was with her, but she found it out before reaching the end of the Avenue, and sent it back. If you could send one with a coloured cover, it could do either on bed or sofa; and I think it might be well to put her name on it in indelible ink, for she is so very likely to give away such a desirable thing....’

FROM MRS. ELMSLIE TO MRS. HAMILTON.

‘Oct. 18, 1877.

‘I have just returned from seeing our darling off to Batala. I know you will be sorry to hear she has gone there again; and Miss Wauton, Mr. Clark, and I have tried hard to prevent it,—in vain! She thinks it her duty to go, and she makes it her pleasure. How we miss her here, I cannot tell you. She is beloved and honoured by rich and poor, young and old. She is our Sunshine. Her bright fancies, her quick perceptions, her wise suggestions, are invaluable to all of us in the Mission.

‘While she frets over her want of power in speaking Urdu and Panjabi, we are rejoicing, not only in her power of writing for the people, but in her wonderful perception of the national character, her insight into the weaknesses and also into the virtues of our Native friends, Christian and heathen. Her loving, unselfish ways are wonderfully soothing and sustaining; and life has seemed to me a different thing since God brought her to us.

‘She has been wonderfully free of fever during the past year; and the excitability which used to make me anxious has quite passed away. I think she has been looking quite lovely of late; the expression of her dear face has been so restful, so sweet, so angel-like. She has been a little less thin too, and has been wearing morebecoming caps and bonnets. We find it necessary to look after her in such sublunary things; and many a laugh she has at our anxiety about her appearance. You asked me to tell you of anything she ever needs; and I think you may like to know that she has no intermediate dress for everyday use; nothing between the dark green cashmere and a very pale kind of Chinese silk.

‘A light material of a rather dark grey colour, nicely made up with a tunic bodice and belt, would be very useful to her. But what would she say to me, if she thought I had written this? Another thing is afeatherpillow. Such a thing is not to be had in India; and her dear head is, I am sure, often tired. We put our only one into her gari just now, hoping she would not notice it. Off went her coach, and we were so pleased to think it was with her, but she found it out before reaching the end of the Avenue, and sent it back. If you could send one with a coloured cover, it could do either on bed or sofa; and I think it might be well to put her name on it in indelible ink, for she is so very likely to give away such a desirable thing....’

C. M. T. TO MRS. E——.‘Batala,Nov. 15, 1877.‘Where do you think the gay Mission Miss Sahiba has been to-day? Never consider mine a monotonous life! Why, I have been to a fair, amela, as they call it here. I had never thought of a lady’s going to a heathen fair; but two of our Mission ladies are here for ten days, to conduct examinations in the schools. Our valuable Miss Wauton said that she would like to go to the mela. Of course, I would not let her go without a lady companion; so we both accompanied Mr. Beutel in his light covered cart, plunging over ruts in the kachcha road in fine style.‘It was a pretty sight. The weather was delicious. Numbers of people in their picturesque costumes were threading their way to the village of A——, white being the prevailing colour of the men’s costumes, gay red that of the women’s, with a fair sprinkling of green, a touch of yellow and blue, and here and there a grand display of glittering gold. But we did not go just to look at the folk, or to buy fairings either. Emily and I went armed with books and pictures, to try and sow a little good seed amongst the women, whilst Mr. Beutel and the two Catechists preached to the men.‘Mr. Beutel found a shady place for us, and Emily and I tried to gather women around us. The men were curious, and wanted to see and hear also. We could not secure an exclusively feminine audience.It was a Hindu mela; and not many Muhammadans seemed to be present, which made matters easier for us.... No one objected to hearing as much about the Blessed Saviour as we could tell them. Emily speaks Punjabi famously; I have only about a thimble-full of it; so I chiefly listened to Emily, and held the umbrella to shield her from the sun.‘It was interesting to look at the faces, when Emily, with admirable fluency, told the story of the Prodigal Son. At this time her audience seemed to be principally Sikh men. They crouched upon the ground around us, and listened with hearty interest. Nowhere, either from men or women, did we meet with any rudeness; nor did any one seem vexed with our describing what our Lord had done for us....‘The way in which Batala is opening out is marvellous. I go from Zenana to Zenana, and have not by any means finished paying all myfirstvisits!! Our Bible-woman thinks that aboutthirtyZenanas are open to her. I doubt that nearly so many are open in the large mother-stations of Amritsar or Lahore. We ought to have two or three clever, active, strong Miss Sahibas here, instead of one elderly lady, who is slow at both learning and teaching.‘The two ladies from Amritsar are delighted with Batala. To-day is, I think, the anniversary of my arrival in India; so I have entered upon my third year! My Missionary life has, on the whole, been a very happy one....’

C. M. T. TO MRS. E——.

‘Batala,Nov. 15, 1877.

‘Where do you think the gay Mission Miss Sahiba has been to-day? Never consider mine a monotonous life! Why, I have been to a fair, amela, as they call it here. I had never thought of a lady’s going to a heathen fair; but two of our Mission ladies are here for ten days, to conduct examinations in the schools. Our valuable Miss Wauton said that she would like to go to the mela. Of course, I would not let her go without a lady companion; so we both accompanied Mr. Beutel in his light covered cart, plunging over ruts in the kachcha road in fine style.

‘It was a pretty sight. The weather was delicious. Numbers of people in their picturesque costumes were threading their way to the village of A——, white being the prevailing colour of the men’s costumes, gay red that of the women’s, with a fair sprinkling of green, a touch of yellow and blue, and here and there a grand display of glittering gold. But we did not go just to look at the folk, or to buy fairings either. Emily and I went armed with books and pictures, to try and sow a little good seed amongst the women, whilst Mr. Beutel and the two Catechists preached to the men.

‘Mr. Beutel found a shady place for us, and Emily and I tried to gather women around us. The men were curious, and wanted to see and hear also. We could not secure an exclusively feminine audience.It was a Hindu mela; and not many Muhammadans seemed to be present, which made matters easier for us.... No one objected to hearing as much about the Blessed Saviour as we could tell them. Emily speaks Punjabi famously; I have only about a thimble-full of it; so I chiefly listened to Emily, and held the umbrella to shield her from the sun.

‘It was interesting to look at the faces, when Emily, with admirable fluency, told the story of the Prodigal Son. At this time her audience seemed to be principally Sikh men. They crouched upon the ground around us, and listened with hearty interest. Nowhere, either from men or women, did we meet with any rudeness; nor did any one seem vexed with our describing what our Lord had done for us....

‘The way in which Batala is opening out is marvellous. I go from Zenana to Zenana, and have not by any means finished paying all myfirstvisits!! Our Bible-woman thinks that aboutthirtyZenanas are open to her. I doubt that nearly so many are open in the large mother-stations of Amritsar or Lahore. We ought to have two or three clever, active, strong Miss Sahibas here, instead of one elderly lady, who is slow at both learning and teaching.

‘The two ladies from Amritsar are delighted with Batala. To-day is, I think, the anniversary of my arrival in India; so I have entered upon my third year! My Missionary life has, on the whole, been a very happy one....’

TO MRS. HAMILTON.‘Dec. 13, 1877.—The overland mail was particularly long in arriving this time. I hoped that it would bring me something particularly nice; and what should come to-day but your dear loving letter, and the first halves of your munificent contribution to our schools! How very kind and liberal my Laura is! I had been speaking to Mr. Beutel but yesterday of those two village schools, which would—from the lowness of funds—have been dropped, but for your last handsome gift. I was asking Mr. Beutel how far your Rs.55 would carry them on. He replied—till past the beginning of March. Beyond that there was no provision for them at all.‘How delighted Mr. Beutel will be, on his return from Amritsar, to hear that a bountiful supply has come in! I think it better to apply your gift to the village schools, than to the girls’ schools in Batala. The latter, I think, excite more interest, and are not so likely to be in want of funds. These poor village schools—since for retrenchment sake they were cast off—are like waifs and strays. Government does not care for village schools; the School Society cannot afford tokeep up half the desirable number. Mr. Beutel often receives applications for new village schools, and is so much interested in them that he and our Catechist have one between them....‘We are to have a grand tamasha here at Christmas-time. Mr. Beutel is going to gather, not only the boys of our Batala Mission School, but boys from village schools. Of course, this is not merely to give enjoyment, though the enjoyment will probably be great, but to bring more forcibly before the lads the tidings of great gladness. We are a little puzzled about the poor little girls; as their cruel and absurd pardah rules prevent the possibility of gathering them all together, even in the Bible-woman’s house.’

TO MRS. HAMILTON.

‘Dec. 13, 1877.—The overland mail was particularly long in arriving this time. I hoped that it would bring me something particularly nice; and what should come to-day but your dear loving letter, and the first halves of your munificent contribution to our schools! How very kind and liberal my Laura is! I had been speaking to Mr. Beutel but yesterday of those two village schools, which would—from the lowness of funds—have been dropped, but for your last handsome gift. I was asking Mr. Beutel how far your Rs.55 would carry them on. He replied—till past the beginning of March. Beyond that there was no provision for them at all.

‘How delighted Mr. Beutel will be, on his return from Amritsar, to hear that a bountiful supply has come in! I think it better to apply your gift to the village schools, than to the girls’ schools in Batala. The latter, I think, excite more interest, and are not so likely to be in want of funds. These poor village schools—since for retrenchment sake they were cast off—are like waifs and strays. Government does not care for village schools; the School Society cannot afford tokeep up half the desirable number. Mr. Beutel often receives applications for new village schools, and is so much interested in them that he and our Catechist have one between them....

‘We are to have a grand tamasha here at Christmas-time. Mr. Beutel is going to gather, not only the boys of our Batala Mission School, but boys from village schools. Of course, this is not merely to give enjoyment, though the enjoyment will probably be great, but to bring more forcibly before the lads the tidings of great gladness. We are a little puzzled about the poor little girls; as their cruel and absurd pardah rules prevent the possibility of gathering them all together, even in the Bible-woman’s house.’

The beginning of 1878 found Miss Tucker at Batala; and though once more for a short time her work there was to be broken through, the spring of this same year, as explained earlier, would see an end of the difficulty which had attended her permanent residence in the place. The letter to her sister, written on January 5th, is all through a particularly characteristic one. A large amount will bear quotation.

‘The warm dress which you have so very kindly procured for me has not yet arrived; but I should not wonder if it were here on Monday or Tuesday.... We have been guessing of what colour it will be. Mrs. J. and I both fixed upon grey, Mrs. Beutel purple, and Mr. Beutel brown. Perhaps after all it will turn out to be blue. I hope that I may have it in time to wear at B.’s baptism, which I do hope may take place to-morrow week, if some clergyman will only come from Amritsar. To this baptism I look forward with joyful interest. B.’s white dress is probably ready now. We like converts to wear pure white at baptism. I intend to give J., the Bible-woman, a new skirt to wear on the occasion; and I should like to wear something perfectly fresh too....‘I was in a Zenana to-day, which it is always a mental effort to visit; but it is very interesting. Instead of talking to the women there, I am certain to have one or two men, descendants of the famous Guru Nanak, who engross the conversation with me almost entirely.‘The religion of the fine old fellow who is the principal talker is a regular puzzle. He talks Panjabi; so you may imagine how very difficult it is for me to understand him; and hewants to make me understand. I do my best to do so. This is what I gather of hisviews. S. isnota Muhammadan; he says that he is a Hindu; though by his birth he ought to be a Sikh. He reverences Guru Nanak,[71]very properly, but thinks that Guru Nanak has given religious tenets such as I am certain that he never did. We have no reason to suppose that the excellent Guru had ever heard of our Saviour. But S. propounds doctrines that are amazing from the lips of aHindu. He believes in the one true God. He believes that a time of great war and trouble will come; and that then Isa Masih (Jesus Christ) will come like a flash of lightning, and become the Ishar (Divine Lord) of all the Earth.‘I had taken a Gurmukhi Testament with me. Neither of the men seemed disposed to read it. I thought that perhaps neither of themcould; so I opened it myself, and chose a pretty easy place. I had never read the Gurmukhi character in a Zenana before. My old Sikh—for I cannot help considering him one—listened very attentively, correcting my pronunciation now and then. I did not venture to read much. Then he took the Testament himself, and began to read it in regular Sikh fashion, in a kind of measured chant, as if it were poetry. It was clear that hecouldread; so I left the precious Volume as a loan in that house. May God bless it!...’

‘I was in a Zenana to-day, which it is always a mental effort to visit; but it is very interesting. Instead of talking to the women there, I am certain to have one or two men, descendants of the famous Guru Nanak, who engross the conversation with me almost entirely.

‘The religion of the fine old fellow who is the principal talker is a regular puzzle. He talks Panjabi; so you may imagine how very difficult it is for me to understand him; and hewants to make me understand. I do my best to do so. This is what I gather of hisviews. S. isnota Muhammadan; he says that he is a Hindu; though by his birth he ought to be a Sikh. He reverences Guru Nanak,[71]very properly, but thinks that Guru Nanak has given religious tenets such as I am certain that he never did. We have no reason to suppose that the excellent Guru had ever heard of our Saviour. But S. propounds doctrines that are amazing from the lips of aHindu. He believes in the one true God. He believes that a time of great war and trouble will come; and that then Isa Masih (Jesus Christ) will come like a flash of lightning, and become the Ishar (Divine Lord) of all the Earth.

‘I had taken a Gurmukhi Testament with me. Neither of the men seemed disposed to read it. I thought that perhaps neither of themcould; so I opened it myself, and chose a pretty easy place. I had never read the Gurmukhi character in a Zenana before. My old Sikh—for I cannot help considering him one—listened very attentively, correcting my pronunciation now and then. I did not venture to read much. Then he took the Testament himself, and began to read it in regular Sikh fashion, in a kind of measured chant, as if it were poetry. It was clear that hecouldread; so I left the precious Volume as a loan in that house. May God bless it!...’

‘Jan. 9, 1878.—Hurrah! the box has come! It is in process of being opened.‘Was I not a real witch? Did I not guess a grey dress? What an elegant, ladylike, quiet costume! And so warm and comfortable!... When I opened my tempting box, I thought of the dear fingers which had been employed in putting it up! How very, very kind you have been! So many, many thanks! And what loves of cushions! You have remembered my weakness for cushions. Soft, warm, and so pretty!... I am obliged to go to Amritsar, just for a few days, as Mr. Clark and Margaret cannot come here; and we must have a serious, prayerful discussion about what is really very important, and too complicated for letters.... I see myownpath clearly. I intend, please God, to stick by Batala. My friends will not hear of my staying alone.... May God guide us! Batala should NOT be abandoned.’

‘Jan. 9, 1878.—Hurrah! the box has come! It is in process of being opened.

‘Was I not a real witch? Did I not guess a grey dress? What an elegant, ladylike, quiet costume! And so warm and comfortable!... When I opened my tempting box, I thought of the dear fingers which had been employed in putting it up! How very, very kind you have been! So many, many thanks! And what loves of cushions! You have remembered my weakness for cushions. Soft, warm, and so pretty!... I am obliged to go to Amritsar, just for a few days, as Mr. Clark and Margaret cannot come here; and we must have a serious, prayerful discussion about what is really very important, and too complicated for letters.... I see myownpath clearly. I intend, please God, to stick by Batala. My friends will not hear of my staying alone.... May God guide us! Batala should NOT be abandoned.’

‘Jan. 23.—I have come back from Amritsar, with nothing settled, except that the Beutels are to go to Amritsar about the middle of March. The Batala affairs have been much talked over.... I earnestly hope that I may not have a third time to retreat from Batala, for lack of a companion. We are beating about for one, butit seems a hard thing to find, we are so undermanned. Every one seems to acknowledge the great importance of Batala....‘As for its being unhealthy, I regard it asmorehealthy than either Amritsar or Lahore. The tank is a lovely tank, with no bad smell; and when it is very full I canseethe current of water flowing in on one side and out at the other. Fishes live and jump about in it; and birds delight in its bright waters. I have a better chance of keeping well through the hot weather here than at the bungalow at Amritsar. This house is far better built, with thick walls, lofty rooms, etc. But none of my Missionary friends at Amritsar will listen to my staying here alone. So I must just wait, and see what is God’s Will. He can send me a companion, if He sees right to do so.’

‘As for its being unhealthy, I regard it asmorehealthy than either Amritsar or Lahore. The tank is a lovely tank, with no bad smell; and when it is very full I canseethe current of water flowing in on one side and out at the other. Fishes live and jump about in it; and birds delight in its bright waters. I have a better chance of keeping well through the hot weather here than at the bungalow at Amritsar. This house is far better built, with thick walls, lofty rooms, etc. But none of my Missionary friends at Amritsar will listen to my staying here alone. So I must just wait, and see what is God’s Will. He can send me a companion, if He sees right to do so.’

‘Feb. 7.—Perhaps you will be glad to hear that all our attempts to find a companion for me at Batala have failed. Poor —— must go back to England; it was a mistake ever to have sent out so delicate a lady. Miss —— with whom I was in treaty, is going home too. Mrs. —— has been secured for another station.... Perhaps I have been too ready to say to myself, “There is no place on earth where I can be so useful as at Batala.” I must come down a little, which is wholesome. But I have not any sense of defeat; no, thank God,—every visit to Batala, it seems as if fresh ground had been gained. The waves retreat again and again, while the tide is advancing.... I believe that a far better spirit, a spirit of kindness towards us, a lessening of prejudice, a most encouraging readiness to listen, is now spreading in Batala.[72]Maulvi Z. felt the difference. B—n feels the difference. I believe that there will berealregret at our leaving Batala. Dear B—n!... I had brought for B—n’s children two gay little coverlets.... B—n took them and wrapped them round the plump little girls as chaddahs. I think that he was quite pleased....‘Oh, did I tell you—I told somebody—about my other Brahmin; the elderly man who prays by the side of our tank? I have repeatedly spoken to him in my indifferent Panjabi; and I spoke to my nephew, R. Bateman, about him, when he was here for two days. So on one of the mornings I see my nephew seated beside my Brahmin close to the tank, with only a handkerchief round his delicate head. His old Auntie soon supplied him with an umbrella. R. Bateman gave me afterwards an account of the Brahmin’s strange view of religion.One can hardly imagine a mind in which the whole visible creation is regarded as God. The Brahmin had no idea ofsin; he hadnever seen it, he said,—as if it were a thing like a stone or a tree!‘I saw the poor fellow by the tank yesterday morning, and went out and spoke to him. I invited him to come to morning prayers. Rather to my surprise, the dear man really did come. He must be a wondrously meek Brahmin; for he seated himself on the floor amongst the servants, labourers, etc., apparently quite forgetful of the tremendous difference between their castes and his own. Mr. Beutel makes morning family prayers almost like a regular service. He not only reads the Bible, but expounds. I had asked him, for my Brahmin’s sake, to make his address as Punjabish as possible; so he stuck in Punjabi words where he could. My Brahmin looked very attentive. He has a sort of childlike readiness to listen, looking full at you when you speak; and his face quite brightening as if with pleasure when you talk of a Saviour. It must be all so strangely new to him! I wonder if he will come again....‘To-day I went to two new houses,—I have such a number to go to! When I sang of the Saviour’s invitation, to a Hindu, not only did she seem to listen attentively, but I saw her wiping moist eyes.‘Margaret and E. Clay intend coming here the day after to-morrow for two days.... I must not dwell on parting with Margaret.[73]I rejoice in the happiness which I hope she will enjoy. She has worked long and very hard.... No doubt there are some wise and merciful reasons for sending me away from Batala.’

‘Oh, did I tell you—I told somebody—about my other Brahmin; the elderly man who prays by the side of our tank? I have repeatedly spoken to him in my indifferent Panjabi; and I spoke to my nephew, R. Bateman, about him, when he was here for two days. So on one of the mornings I see my nephew seated beside my Brahmin close to the tank, with only a handkerchief round his delicate head. His old Auntie soon supplied him with an umbrella. R. Bateman gave me afterwards an account of the Brahmin’s strange view of religion.One can hardly imagine a mind in which the whole visible creation is regarded as God. The Brahmin had no idea ofsin; he hadnever seen it, he said,—as if it were a thing like a stone or a tree!

‘I saw the poor fellow by the tank yesterday morning, and went out and spoke to him. I invited him to come to morning prayers. Rather to my surprise, the dear man really did come. He must be a wondrously meek Brahmin; for he seated himself on the floor amongst the servants, labourers, etc., apparently quite forgetful of the tremendous difference between their castes and his own. Mr. Beutel makes morning family prayers almost like a regular service. He not only reads the Bible, but expounds. I had asked him, for my Brahmin’s sake, to make his address as Punjabish as possible; so he stuck in Punjabi words where he could. My Brahmin looked very attentive. He has a sort of childlike readiness to listen, looking full at you when you speak; and his face quite brightening as if with pleasure when you talk of a Saviour. It must be all so strangely new to him! I wonder if he will come again....

‘To-day I went to two new houses,—I have such a number to go to! When I sang of the Saviour’s invitation, to a Hindu, not only did she seem to listen attentively, but I saw her wiping moist eyes.

‘Margaret and E. Clay intend coming here the day after to-morrow for two days.... I must not dwell on parting with Margaret.[73]I rejoice in the happiness which I hope she will enjoy. She has worked long and very hard.... No doubt there are some wise and merciful reasons for sending me away from Batala.’

‘Batala,Feb. 14.—Another curious phase in my strange, strange life! I told you or dear Leila of the idea of the Boys’ Orphanage being brought here. That idea was knocked on the head; but another is taking such shape that it is likely enough that I shall find myself, not exactly planted in, but on the top of—and underneath also—anotherboys’ school! The Rev. F. Baring, the Bishop of Durham’s son, has fallen in love with Batala, and has set his heart on buying this house from Government, for a Boarding-school for Christian Native Boys.‘We have no wish, however, to lose our hold of our beautiful palace as a station for the Zenana Mission; so it is likely that, if Mr. Baring succeed in buying Anarkalli, he will allow our Mission to rent from him, on easy terms, that part of the house which we now occupy (by we I mean myself), with the addition of the drawing-room and part at least of the grand dining-room. Dear, good Babu Singha and hiswife and family will probably live in another part of the palace, he being Under-Superintendent of the School!!‘Here’s a brown and white Happy Family for you! Natives and Europeans can hardly chum together; yet it would be absurd to havethreecooks for us. The present idea is for Mr. Baring and me to chum,tillI am joined by any young lady. Mr. Baring ... is quite happy with me, because of my venerable age, which I have found such an advantage in India. He asked me to-day to have him as a nephew! How rich I am in these dharm-nephews,—to say nothing of the real ones! Now I havefive; one of them being my Afghan, and the others four of the most valuable clergymen in the Panjab Mission.[74]Henry, my Afghan boy,[75]you must know. He is the youngest of all my dharm-nephews.‘Now, what does my sweet Laura say to my plans—and my family? I like you to know all my nephews.... I have more nieces even than nephews; but you have had enough of my dharm-family for the present. Mr. Clark wanted me to take him in too. If he had asked to be abrother, I should have welcomed him; but I really could not have as a nephew one to whom we look up as a head-pastor, a kind of bishop! I don’t think that my nephews should be more than forty years old.’

‘We have no wish, however, to lose our hold of our beautiful palace as a station for the Zenana Mission; so it is likely that, if Mr. Baring succeed in buying Anarkalli, he will allow our Mission to rent from him, on easy terms, that part of the house which we now occupy (by we I mean myself), with the addition of the drawing-room and part at least of the grand dining-room. Dear, good Babu Singha and hiswife and family will probably live in another part of the palace, he being Under-Superintendent of the School!!

‘Here’s a brown and white Happy Family for you! Natives and Europeans can hardly chum together; yet it would be absurd to havethreecooks for us. The present idea is for Mr. Baring and me to chum,tillI am joined by any young lady. Mr. Baring ... is quite happy with me, because of my venerable age, which I have found such an advantage in India. He asked me to-day to have him as a nephew! How rich I am in these dharm-nephews,—to say nothing of the real ones! Now I havefive; one of them being my Afghan, and the others four of the most valuable clergymen in the Panjab Mission.[74]Henry, my Afghan boy,[75]you must know. He is the youngest of all my dharm-nephews.

‘Now, what does my sweet Laura say to my plans—and my family? I like you to know all my nephews.... I have more nieces even than nephews; but you have had enough of my dharm-family for the present. Mr. Clark wanted me to take him in too. If he had asked to be abrother, I should have welcomed him; but I really could not have as a nephew one to whom we look up as a head-pastor, a kind of bishop! I don’t think that my nephews should be more than forty years old.’

‘Amritsar,Feb. 23, 1878.—Here I am again in dear old Amritsar.... I know that you will be curious to hear how the Batala school plan progresses. Well, we are waiting to hear what our saintly new Bishop says to it. In a matter of such importance it is right to wait for the advice of such an Apostolic man.... I wait passively. There is plenty of work for me at Amritsar, more than I can do at all properly....‘You see, Laura darling, there are quantities of Aunts in England; but an old Auntie is a rare bird in India, and therefore in request. I am like a hen with such a large brood!‘Dearest Margaret will be much missed. Many, many, both English and Natives, love her.... The Native Christians have quietly subscribed for a shawl for her Mother, as a token of their grateful love. I think the Natives very affectionate. People talk of their being ungrateful; but those who talk so have perhaps neverearnedtheir gratitude. If you love them, they love you! They are very sensitive, both to kindness and to unkindness....’

‘You see, Laura darling, there are quantities of Aunts in England; but an old Auntie is a rare bird in India, and therefore in request. I am like a hen with such a large brood!

‘Dearest Margaret will be much missed. Many, many, both English and Natives, love her.... The Native Christians have quietly subscribed for a shawl for her Mother, as a token of their grateful love. I think the Natives very affectionate. People talk of their being ungrateful; but those who talk so have perhaps neverearnedtheir gratitude. If you love them, they love you! They are very sensitive, both to kindness and to unkindness....’

TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.‘March 4, 1878.’ ... Missionary work can be just as truly done in England as in India; but only a few of the dear workerscan—without forsaking other duties—come out so far as the Panjab. Those who come here should be strong also, physically as well as mentally suited for the peculiar work and trying climate....‘There are plenty of poor in Amritsar, as well as Batala. I went to Mrs. Clark’s yesterday, at the large Mission House. In her garden were quantities of poor folk; between three and four hundred, counting children. A Catechist preached to them first; and then a great number of chapatties, a kind of thick flat cake, of very simple make, with a small quantity of dal,[76]was handed round and distributed. Adults had two chapatties each; children one. Mr. Clark had had a Brahmin to cook, for Hindu beggars would not otherwise have liked the food, and Muhammadans do not object to a Brahmin’s cooking. Station-people subscribe to help in the distribution of this food....‘Mr. Clark and my new nephew, Mr. Baring, have gone to Lahore to see our new Bishop.[77]He is known to be such a saint, that thanksgivings have been offered again and again for his appointment.’

TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.

‘March 4, 1878.

’ ... Missionary work can be just as truly done in England as in India; but only a few of the dear workerscan—without forsaking other duties—come out so far as the Panjab. Those who come here should be strong also, physically as well as mentally suited for the peculiar work and trying climate....

‘There are plenty of poor in Amritsar, as well as Batala. I went to Mrs. Clark’s yesterday, at the large Mission House. In her garden were quantities of poor folk; between three and four hundred, counting children. A Catechist preached to them first; and then a great number of chapatties, a kind of thick flat cake, of very simple make, with a small quantity of dal,[76]was handed round and distributed. Adults had two chapatties each; children one. Mr. Clark had had a Brahmin to cook, for Hindu beggars would not otherwise have liked the food, and Muhammadans do not object to a Brahmin’s cooking. Station-people subscribe to help in the distribution of this food....

‘Mr. Clark and my new nephew, Mr. Baring, have gone to Lahore to see our new Bishop.[77]He is known to be such a saint, that thanksgivings have been offered again and again for his appointment.’

TO MRS. J. BOSWELL.‘March 4, 1878.‘Is poor, dear —— going to remain in the same house, so full to her of sad memories? People feel so differently on this subject. Some cling to the spot where they have loved and sorrowed,—others fly from it. I should never like to cross the threshold of No. 3 again. I am rather pleased that it has another number now. There isno3 Upper Portland Place now.’

TO MRS. J. BOSWELL.

‘March 4, 1878.

‘Is poor, dear —— going to remain in the same house, so full to her of sad memories? People feel so differently on this subject. Some cling to the spot where they have loved and sorrowed,—others fly from it. I should never like to cross the threshold of No. 3 again. I am rather pleased that it has another number now. There isno3 Upper Portland Place now.’

TO MRS. HAMILTON.‘March 8.—I can fancy the request to have my letters directed to Batala has excited a little curiosity. It really seems likely that our comical arrangement will be carried out; and that I and my nephew will find ourselves chumming together in the midst of a Boys’ School!!‘The Panjab is eager to have a boys’ school for young Christian Native gentlemen. The Bishop approves. Our boys are to payRs.5 a month. This may cover food expenses, but of course not the expense of first-class teaching. Batala is to have this, the nucleus of a future Panjabi Eton or Harrow (if it please God to prosper it), the training-place for our clergymen, lawyers, and merchants. I amnotto be Matron. I am the sole representative—European—of our Ladies’ Zenana Society; but it would be strange if I lived in the same building with the dear boys, and took no interest in them. It is probable enough that I shall find myself playing at Oxford or Cambridge, or giving a music-lesson to young Panjabis. A comical idea suggests itself. I have a large family of new Nephews and Nieces in India. Am I to have a whole troop of brown Grandnephews in perspective!!! Don’t fancy them ugly savages. Many will probably be winsome enough,—bright, attractive, and courteous.‘Good Babu Singha and his excellent wife will probably be in the house, but not chum with Europeans....‘Only imagine my darling Laura dreaming of coming to Egypt to meet me!! But I doubt her being up to such a journey; and mine would be about as formidable a one. But the dream is one of “old,” not “young Love”!’

TO MRS. HAMILTON.

‘March 8.—I can fancy the request to have my letters directed to Batala has excited a little curiosity. It really seems likely that our comical arrangement will be carried out; and that I and my nephew will find ourselves chumming together in the midst of a Boys’ School!!

‘The Panjab is eager to have a boys’ school for young Christian Native gentlemen. The Bishop approves. Our boys are to payRs.5 a month. This may cover food expenses, but of course not the expense of first-class teaching. Batala is to have this, the nucleus of a future Panjabi Eton or Harrow (if it please God to prosper it), the training-place for our clergymen, lawyers, and merchants. I amnotto be Matron. I am the sole representative—European—of our Ladies’ Zenana Society; but it would be strange if I lived in the same building with the dear boys, and took no interest in them. It is probable enough that I shall find myself playing at Oxford or Cambridge, or giving a music-lesson to young Panjabis. A comical idea suggests itself. I have a large family of new Nephews and Nieces in India. Am I to have a whole troop of brown Grandnephews in perspective!!! Don’t fancy them ugly savages. Many will probably be winsome enough,—bright, attractive, and courteous.

‘Good Babu Singha and his excellent wife will probably be in the house, but not chum with Europeans....

‘Only imagine my darling Laura dreaming of coming to Egypt to meet me!! But I doubt her being up to such a journey; and mine would be about as formidable a one. But the dream is one of “old,” not “young Love”!’

‘March 15.—Now, darling, to answer your objections to my spending the hot season at Batala.... I doubt that the risk to health from climate will be at all greater at Batala than at damp Amritsar. Always remember, love, that at the former place I am high above the ground, while at the latter I am on it. This makes an immense difference. The large inner room at Batala would be cooler than any room here....‘I intend to take my large harmonium to Batala. It may be of immense use there. I suppose that I shall have charge of all the music; for I do not believe that either my Bhatija (nephew) or the Singhas know anything about it. It is ofimmenseimportance. Mr. R. told me yesterday that the Rev. C., perhaps the most valuable convert in all the Panjab (he is a Bengali), was first brought to Christ by listening to Church music. It carried his soul away! I wish that I were more competent for the charge; but I must hope and pray that God may bless my little attempts to serve Him by music. I am so thankful that age has not affected my voice; at least, it does not seem to me to have done so.’

‘I intend to take my large harmonium to Batala. It may be of immense use there. I suppose that I shall have charge of all the music; for I do not believe that either my Bhatija (nephew) or the Singhas know anything about it. It is ofimmenseimportance. Mr. R. told me yesterday that the Rev. C., perhaps the most valuable convert in all the Panjab (he is a Bengali), was first brought to Christ by listening to Church music. It carried his soul away! I wish that I were more competent for the charge; but I must hope and pray that God may bless my little attempts to serve Him by music. I am so thankful that age has not affected my voice; at least, it does not seem to me to have done so.’

The latter fact would tell little. People in advancing years are seldom able to judge of their own voices.Others, however, speak of the unusual manner in which Miss Tucker’s voice lasted. It had never been one of much power or sweetness; but she had always had a sensitive ear, and had sung well; and to the end she still sang in tune, even when the voice itself became cracked with age.

One other point in the above may be noted. Miss Tucker was throughout anxious to make the best of her beloved Batala; and undoubtedly this was a case of ‘making the best.’ If Amritsar was damp, so also must Batala have been,—at all events, in the seasons of heavy floods, when it was often impossible to get about, from the state of the roads. There were times when Anarkalli was all but a veritable island, in the midst of a kind of lake. This could hardly be regarded as healthy, while it lasted.

TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.March 28, 1878.‘I am to have my “pen,” about which my dharm-nieces joke a great deal. Mera Bhatija[78]is going to cut a slice off his magnificent dining-room, to make a cool retreat for the Auntie. As a bamboo-screen right across would be very unsightly, if seen in its bareness, I am going to have mine covered on both sides. Fancy a screen, twenty feet long and six feet high! I have been very fortunate in securing a most suitable cloth for the cover. A bedroom chintz would have looked quite out of character, but I have bought a native cloth, with an Oriental pattern, very tapestry-like, old-fashioned conventional flowers and birds on a blue ground. It is such a pattern as one might see in a picture, and will not destroy the effect of the Oriental hall. Every one who saw it at once fixed upon it asthething....‘Emily has ordered eight chairs for my rooms,—I had two of my own,—and your beloved Mother knows that I am splendidly supplied with cushions; such dainty cushions! I like my rooms to look rather nice, as young Panjab may get an extra polish, if admitted to an English lady’s drawing-room.’

TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.

March 28, 1878.

‘I am to have my “pen,” about which my dharm-nieces joke a great deal. Mera Bhatija[78]is going to cut a slice off his magnificent dining-room, to make a cool retreat for the Auntie. As a bamboo-screen right across would be very unsightly, if seen in its bareness, I am going to have mine covered on both sides. Fancy a screen, twenty feet long and six feet high! I have been very fortunate in securing a most suitable cloth for the cover. A bedroom chintz would have looked quite out of character, but I have bought a native cloth, with an Oriental pattern, very tapestry-like, old-fashioned conventional flowers and birds on a blue ground. It is such a pattern as one might see in a picture, and will not destroy the effect of the Oriental hall. Every one who saw it at once fixed upon it asthething....

‘Emily has ordered eight chairs for my rooms,—I had two of my own,—and your beloved Mother knows that I am splendidly supplied with cushions; such dainty cushions! I like my rooms to look rather nice, as young Panjab may get an extra polish, if admitted to an English lady’s drawing-room.’

Once more Miss Tucker settled down in Batala—for life! She would only leave the place again for her short and well-earned holidays; and at the last for her passing away.

During many years her home was still to be in the quaint old palace, described by others as draughty, weird, forlorn, desolate; though she herself so resolutely looked upon the discomforts of the old building through rose-tinted glasses. But its dreary aspect was soon to be changed. The bright faces of Panjabi lads, the merry voices of Panjabi scholars, were to fill with fresh life those big and empty rooms. ‘The Baring High School,’ as it was called, had its first existence in the shape of a small boarding-school at Amritsar, which Mr. Baring decided to remove to the palace at Batala. About fifteen boys were, in the beginning, at Anarkalli,—described by A. L. O. E. as ‘our choicest young Natives, converts or descendants of converts; one is the grandson of a martyr!’ These boys or their friends paid fees, when they could, which was not always; and the fees, though perhaps sufficient to cover their food, were by no means sufficient to cover the cost of a good education.

From the spring of 1878 Mr. Baring resided there, as C.M.S. Honorary Missionary, with control of the Boys’ School, which indeed had been started mainly at his ownexpense; while Babu Singha worked under him as the Master of the School. Miss Tucker, as she stated in her letters, held no such post as that of Matron. Her position was entirely independent, being that of Honorary Zenana Missionary. She paid for her own rooms and her own board in the Palace, and regarded Zenana visiting, and the writing of small books for Indian readers, as her prime occupations. But for Charlotte Tucker to live under the same roof with all those boys, and not to give them loving interest, not to attempt to teach or influence them, would have been a sheer impossibility.

Another Boys’ School had been started in Batala, which must not be confounded with the above. The Baring High School was—and is—distinctly for the education of Indian Christian boys. The Mission School, known later as ‘The Plough,’—Miss Tucker recognising strongly that this early stage of work in Batala could only be compared to a farmer’s ploughing of his fields,—was for Indian boys, not yet Christian. They received Christian teaching; and when a boy in the Plough School became a convert, he was passed on usually to the High School. The very starting of this ‘Plough School’ was due to Miss Tucker’s liberality. Out of her own purse she generously paid the main part of its expenses.

We must turn again to her letters, with all their curiously fresh,youngeagerness and enjoyment, to realise what her life was at this time. Charlotte Tucker might call herself ‘old,’—she was very fond of doing so on every possible occasion; but certainly none of the weight of age had as yet descended upon her spirits.

TO SIR W. HILL.[79]‘Batala,April 13, 1878.‘We hope next Sunday to have a Baptism in our lovely little lake; and we have been practising baptismal hymns to sing on the joyfuloccasion. We had some anxiety about our young convert.... He went to Amritsar on business; and at the time when we expected his return he did not come back.‘What could have happened? Had the dear youth been seized by his Muhammadan relations? Such things do happen; the danger is a very real one. It is often no easy matter to confess Christ in India. Mr. B., who was here, wrote off a note to a Christian Maulvi in Amritsar to search for the lad. He did so, and found him, and brought him here in safety last night; but not before —— had had a painful time of it in Amritsar.‘I looked with interest on that Christian Maulvi, as he sat in our drawing-room, conversing with the English Missionaries....Hehas known well enough to what dangers a convert may be exposed; for he has experienced them.... He was the first of his family to take up the Cross. His Muhammadan neighbours formed the fiendish design ofburning him alive in his house. They piled up his clothes, etc., in an under room. He was sleeping above. The Muhammadans set fire to the pile; and the clothes, etc., were quickly consumed; but the fire did not, as was intended, set the whole house in a blaze. The ceiling was charred; that was all; and the Christian slept unharmed, watched over by the Eye that never slumbers nor sleeps.’

TO SIR W. HILL.[79]

‘Batala,April 13, 1878.

‘We hope next Sunday to have a Baptism in our lovely little lake; and we have been practising baptismal hymns to sing on the joyfuloccasion. We had some anxiety about our young convert.... He went to Amritsar on business; and at the time when we expected his return he did not come back.

‘What could have happened? Had the dear youth been seized by his Muhammadan relations? Such things do happen; the danger is a very real one. It is often no easy matter to confess Christ in India. Mr. B., who was here, wrote off a note to a Christian Maulvi in Amritsar to search for the lad. He did so, and found him, and brought him here in safety last night; but not before —— had had a painful time of it in Amritsar.

‘I looked with interest on that Christian Maulvi, as he sat in our drawing-room, conversing with the English Missionaries....Hehas known well enough to what dangers a convert may be exposed; for he has experienced them.... He was the first of his family to take up the Cross. His Muhammadan neighbours formed the fiendish design ofburning him alive in his house. They piled up his clothes, etc., in an under room. He was sleeping above. The Muhammadans set fire to the pile; and the clothes, etc., were quickly consumed; but the fire did not, as was intended, set the whole house in a blaze. The ceiling was charred; that was all; and the Christian slept unharmed, watched over by the Eye that never slumbers nor sleeps.’

About this time A. L. O. E. wrote home to another quarter:—

‘Yesterday a letter arrived from the schoolmaster of O—— with tidings that a lad of fifteen has had the courage to declare to his friends his desire to become a Christian. The natural result of such a declaration has followed,—the young confessor has been beaten. It is no small matter to stand up thus openly for Christ in a heathen village. The lad may have to endure much. I have seen one who was made to stand in boiling oil by his own father, to hinder him from going to the Christians. Whether the O—— boy’s conversion has been the result of the Good Friday expedition we know not; but whether it be so or not, the lad claims our sympathy and interest. We shall try to bring him here, to the Batala Boarding-School, where he may at least receive food and protection. “It is a refuge,” said our Christian Maulvi to me yesterday, glancing up at the goodly building raised by the Maharajah Shere Singh, who little dreamed that he was preparing in it a home for a Christian Natives’ Boarding-School, and also for the ladies of a Zenana Mission. I am at present the sole English Agent of the latter Society here.’

TO MRS. E——.‘May 10, 1878.‘You may like to hear a little more about our School of young Panjabis, as it is rather a curiosity.‘My nephew, Mr. Baring, has succeeded in making these young Natives like not only cricket, but gardening. We are to have a Horticultural Exhibition in August, when prizes are to be given for the best flowers and fruit. Considering that the gardens are all on groundredeemed from the lake this year, it will hardly be expected that the show will equal one in the Botanical Gardens. But oh, you should see our glorious pink water-lilies! They grow wild in the water, and would be a sight anywhere.‘I want the boys also to take to intellectual games. I am much pleased at having succeeded in making one nice lad compose two Sunday enigmas. I by no means despise this small beginning of authorship. Sunday enigmas greatly increase knowledge of Scripture, and also help to make the holy day pass pleasantly. There is a great deal of singing here also; and such a lovely text for our Chapel wall is now almost ready.... Our dear lads cannot, as —— did, give a beautiful pulpit, but I think that they take a pride and pleasure in their Chapel.‘It will look rather pretty, I hope, with its white walls, and striped pardahs of red and white, and the pretty blue ecclesiastical-looking carpet which is promised for it. ABaptismal Register Bookis ordered. I want a large one! God grant that it may fill up rapidly. We shall require a cemetery too, and have rather set our hearts on a pretty mango tope[80]at a suitable distance from, but not quite in sight of, the house.’

TO MRS. E——.

‘May 10, 1878.

‘You may like to hear a little more about our School of young Panjabis, as it is rather a curiosity.

‘My nephew, Mr. Baring, has succeeded in making these young Natives like not only cricket, but gardening. We are to have a Horticultural Exhibition in August, when prizes are to be given for the best flowers and fruit. Considering that the gardens are all on groundredeemed from the lake this year, it will hardly be expected that the show will equal one in the Botanical Gardens. But oh, you should see our glorious pink water-lilies! They grow wild in the water, and would be a sight anywhere.

‘I want the boys also to take to intellectual games. I am much pleased at having succeeded in making one nice lad compose two Sunday enigmas. I by no means despise this small beginning of authorship. Sunday enigmas greatly increase knowledge of Scripture, and also help to make the holy day pass pleasantly. There is a great deal of singing here also; and such a lovely text for our Chapel wall is now almost ready.... Our dear lads cannot, as —— did, give a beautiful pulpit, but I think that they take a pride and pleasure in their Chapel.

‘It will look rather pretty, I hope, with its white walls, and striped pardahs of red and white, and the pretty blue ecclesiastical-looking carpet which is promised for it. ABaptismal Register Bookis ordered. I want a large one! God grant that it may fill up rapidly. We shall require a cemetery too, and have rather set our hearts on a pretty mango tope[80]at a suitable distance from, but not quite in sight of, the house.’

‘Batala;my beloved Laura’s Birthday, May 20, 1878.‘On this day of all days in the year I could not but write to my own precious sister, even if I had not such a nice, long, interesting letter to thank her for, as I received yesterday....‘Like you, I earnestly hope that the Almighty will preserve our dear land from the fearful evil of war. You and I would scarcely now care to sing—‘“In the proud battle-fieldsBounding with glee.”‘How little realisation the juvenile writer had of what war is!...Weare in another kind of warfare here. This living in the First Century, instead of the Nineteenth, seems to give a more vivid colour to life. I suspect that I should find some Missionary stations so dull after one like this! Such as those where year after year passes without an adult baptism being witnessed,—hardly expected,—perhaps in some instances hardlyhopedfor!... The fact is that it needs some moral courage in the Missionary, as well as all sorts of courage in the Convert, to face the storm that may follow a baptism.‘One feels almost ashamed of remaining in such perfect security,[81]when encouraging a poor brown brother or sister to go up, as it were, to the cannon’s mouth. I was thinking to-day what would be themostpainful sacrifice which one could make. It seemed to me that of thelove and esteem of all our dear ones. And that is just the sacrifice which some of our brethren have to make! No wonder that they hesitate, weep, shrink from the flood of sorrow before them; but the true-hearted ones make the plunge at last. “The love of Christ constraineth.”‘The enclosed to —— will give you an idea of some people’s trials; but ever and anon new cases seem to crop up. I expect that our fair Batala will be a kind of harbour of refuge to hunted ones. Mera Bhatija has been telling me that a Missionary—I forget where—is about to have a Baptism, and wants to send the new Christian over to us for a week, to let the storm blow over a little. Another lad was all packed ready to come, but he was caught. He means to take the opportunity of escaping when he can....‘Mera Bhatija and I are curious to see the Rainbow glass. Perhaps, if it be small, I may show it off in the Zenanas. New and curious things give much pleasure. From a little round pin-cushion of mine the pretty glass picture of a Cathedral came off. I often take it with me, and show it, and say, “This is an English Church, in which God is praised every day!” Mere prints do not take with the Natives. They like coloured things that glitter.’

‘Batala;my beloved Laura’s Birthday, May 20, 1878.

‘On this day of all days in the year I could not but write to my own precious sister, even if I had not such a nice, long, interesting letter to thank her for, as I received yesterday....

‘Like you, I earnestly hope that the Almighty will preserve our dear land from the fearful evil of war. You and I would scarcely now care to sing—

‘“In the proud battle-fieldsBounding with glee.”

‘“In the proud battle-fields

Bounding with glee.”

‘How little realisation the juvenile writer had of what war is!...Weare in another kind of warfare here. This living in the First Century, instead of the Nineteenth, seems to give a more vivid colour to life. I suspect that I should find some Missionary stations so dull after one like this! Such as those where year after year passes without an adult baptism being witnessed,—hardly expected,—perhaps in some instances hardlyhopedfor!... The fact is that it needs some moral courage in the Missionary, as well as all sorts of courage in the Convert, to face the storm that may follow a baptism.

‘One feels almost ashamed of remaining in such perfect security,[81]when encouraging a poor brown brother or sister to go up, as it were, to the cannon’s mouth. I was thinking to-day what would be themostpainful sacrifice which one could make. It seemed to me that of thelove and esteem of all our dear ones. And that is just the sacrifice which some of our brethren have to make! No wonder that they hesitate, weep, shrink from the flood of sorrow before them; but the true-hearted ones make the plunge at last. “The love of Christ constraineth.”

‘The enclosed to —— will give you an idea of some people’s trials; but ever and anon new cases seem to crop up. I expect that our fair Batala will be a kind of harbour of refuge to hunted ones. Mera Bhatija has been telling me that a Missionary—I forget where—is about to have a Baptism, and wants to send the new Christian over to us for a week, to let the storm blow over a little. Another lad was all packed ready to come, but he was caught. He means to take the opportunity of escaping when he can....

‘Mera Bhatija and I are curious to see the Rainbow glass. Perhaps, if it be small, I may show it off in the Zenanas. New and curious things give much pleasure. From a little round pin-cushion of mine the pretty glass picture of a Cathedral came off. I often take it with me, and show it, and say, “This is an English Church, in which God is praised every day!” Mere prints do not take with the Natives. They like coloured things that glitter.’

TO MRS. J. BOSWELL.‘May 21, 1878.‘It is wonderful to me how an English lady can go without fear or danger all about Batala, meeting with so much respect and courtesy. I do not feel it the slightest risk. Into narrow lanes, up dark staircases,—amongst women, amongst men,—I go without the smallestexcuse for being alarmed. The people, too, generally listen very quietly, though what is said may be dead against their views. I make the slender concession of calling Muhammad “Mr. Muhammad”—“Muhammad Sahib”—but no one could object to so common a title. He is never called “Hasrat”—Saint—like Moses and David.’

TO MRS. J. BOSWELL.

‘May 21, 1878.

‘It is wonderful to me how an English lady can go without fear or danger all about Batala, meeting with so much respect and courtesy. I do not feel it the slightest risk. Into narrow lanes, up dark staircases,—amongst women, amongst men,—I go without the smallestexcuse for being alarmed. The people, too, generally listen very quietly, though what is said may be dead against their views. I make the slender concession of calling Muhammad “Mr. Muhammad”—“Muhammad Sahib”—but no one could object to so common a title. He is never called “Hasrat”—Saint—like Moses and David.’

TO THE SAME.‘May 29, 1878.‘Three new boys have arrived to-day. I am glad that they did not come till I had pretty well learned up the first seventeen, tacking the right names to the right faces. It took me a good while to do this, for I have a difficulty in remembering faces....‘The Natives who send their boys to this upper-class school are of course anxious that the lads should be good English scholars. At this time of high-pressure education it is necessary that they should be so. Mr. Baring drudges day after day at the English classes; but it occurred to me that I could give a little help in play-hours. I have written an English charade for our young Panjabis to recite; and the idea has, I think, taken with them. It needed a little management to give a separate part to every one of seventeen boys, apportioning it to the individual’s capacity. Pretty little P. (five years) could not be expected to manage more than a line and a half; but it would never have done to have left him out. Into each of the three divisions of the charade I have introduced a lively chorus, in which all can join. The song that takes most is—‘“I am a brisk and sprightly lad,But newly come from sea, sir!”‘This is rather curious, as none of our Punjabis have ever seen the sea. The chorus will be first-rate practice for rapid, clear pronunciation; for‘“When the boatswain pipes ‘All hands aloft!’”would not be an easy line even for some English boys. If the lads manage tolerably well, the charade will be great fun. Who would ever have dreamt that part of a Missionary’s work should be to set boys to learn a lively charade!‘I pity the City boys. I suspect that there is a sort of wistful longing raised in many a young heart, “I wish I were one of those Christian boys!” If there could be a blind ballot of Batala boys, as to whether the whole town should become Christian, I am by no means sure whether the votes would not be in our favour. I do notmean that the poor, dear lads areconverts, but that they use their eyes and ears,—and think that ours must be a very pleasant, genial kind of religion, connected in some sort of way with singing, and cricket, and kindness.’

TO THE SAME.

‘May 29, 1878.

‘Three new boys have arrived to-day. I am glad that they did not come till I had pretty well learned up the first seventeen, tacking the right names to the right faces. It took me a good while to do this, for I have a difficulty in remembering faces....

‘The Natives who send their boys to this upper-class school are of course anxious that the lads should be good English scholars. At this time of high-pressure education it is necessary that they should be so. Mr. Baring drudges day after day at the English classes; but it occurred to me that I could give a little help in play-hours. I have written an English charade for our young Panjabis to recite; and the idea has, I think, taken with them. It needed a little management to give a separate part to every one of seventeen boys, apportioning it to the individual’s capacity. Pretty little P. (five years) could not be expected to manage more than a line and a half; but it would never have done to have left him out. Into each of the three divisions of the charade I have introduced a lively chorus, in which all can join. The song that takes most is—

‘“I am a brisk and sprightly lad,But newly come from sea, sir!”

‘“I am a brisk and sprightly lad,

But newly come from sea, sir!”

‘This is rather curious, as none of our Punjabis have ever seen the sea. The chorus will be first-rate practice for rapid, clear pronunciation; for

‘“When the boatswain pipes ‘All hands aloft!’”

would not be an easy line even for some English boys. If the lads manage tolerably well, the charade will be great fun. Who would ever have dreamt that part of a Missionary’s work should be to set boys to learn a lively charade!

‘I pity the City boys. I suspect that there is a sort of wistful longing raised in many a young heart, “I wish I were one of those Christian boys!” If there could be a blind ballot of Batala boys, as to whether the whole town should become Christian, I am by no means sure whether the votes would not be in our favour. I do notmean that the poor, dear lads areconverts, but that they use their eyes and ears,—and think that ours must be a very pleasant, genial kind of religion, connected in some sort of way with singing, and cricket, and kindness.’

Another short English play, written by Miss Tucker for the boys, was calledThe Bee and the Butterfly. Miss Mulvany, a Missionary, went one day, somewhere about this time, to Batala for a few hours; and in the course of her visit she was sent upstairs, while Charlotte Tucker gave the boys a lesson in acting the said little play. Miss Mulvany has never lost the impression made upon her by the peals and shouts of laughter which came up from the merry company below.

TO MRS. HAMILTON.‘June 19, 1878.‘I am reading the Granth,[82]the sacred book of the Sikhs. Like the Koran, it is very long,—I think more than 600 quarto pages,—and with an immense deal of repetition in it. But it leaves on the mind a very different impression from the Koran. As far as I have read, it is wonderfully pure and spiritual. If you could substitute the name “Almighty” for “Hari,” and “Lord Jesus” for “Guru,”[83]it might almost seem the composition of hermits in the early centuries, except that celibacy is not enjoined. Woman seems to be given her proper place. Many exhortations are addressed to women....‘There is something touching in the longing—the yearning—after God,—the intense love of His Name! The Sikh idea of God is not that of the Hindus, with their fiend-like deities. The Creator is light, and goodness, and happiness. There is indeed the ridiculous idea of people having to pass through 840,000 states of existence,—unless the probation be shortened by meditation, purity, and the repetition of God’s name,—but this fearful number of births is regarded as very tiresome indeed.‘One might call the Granth “the book of yearning,” and I feel humiliated that I, with Gospel light, should in spiritual contemplation and longing for closest communion with the Deity come so far behind these poor Sikhs. Unfortunately, the Sikh religion has been so much corrupted that it is almost dying out. I suppose thatit was too pure to please the Enemy; he knew that the Granth would offer no strong opposition to the Bible. Here, in Batala, his stronghold seems to me to be Muhammadanism. It shocks me to find how that invention of Satan darkens the moral sense. What would be thought sin in another, is by some openly defended as no sinif committed by Muhammad!!‘The Muhammadans too are so ready to stand up for their false faith; far more inclined to defend it than the Hindus are to defend theirs. Mera Bhatija was saying to-day that no book has been written against Christianity by a Hindu. I have myself, however, seen a very bitter article in a paper. But, generally speaking, the Muhammadans seem to be much sterner opponents of Truth than the Hindus. I feel it in the Zenanas.‘Now, my own Laura, I am going to my long task of reading the Granth. It puts me on vantage-ground when I can tell the Natives that I have read their Scriptures.’

TO MRS. HAMILTON.

‘June 19, 1878.

‘I am reading the Granth,[82]the sacred book of the Sikhs. Like the Koran, it is very long,—I think more than 600 quarto pages,—and with an immense deal of repetition in it. But it leaves on the mind a very different impression from the Koran. As far as I have read, it is wonderfully pure and spiritual. If you could substitute the name “Almighty” for “Hari,” and “Lord Jesus” for “Guru,”[83]it might almost seem the composition of hermits in the early centuries, except that celibacy is not enjoined. Woman seems to be given her proper place. Many exhortations are addressed to women....

‘There is something touching in the longing—the yearning—after God,—the intense love of His Name! The Sikh idea of God is not that of the Hindus, with their fiend-like deities. The Creator is light, and goodness, and happiness. There is indeed the ridiculous idea of people having to pass through 840,000 states of existence,—unless the probation be shortened by meditation, purity, and the repetition of God’s name,—but this fearful number of births is regarded as very tiresome indeed.

‘One might call the Granth “the book of yearning,” and I feel humiliated that I, with Gospel light, should in spiritual contemplation and longing for closest communion with the Deity come so far behind these poor Sikhs. Unfortunately, the Sikh religion has been so much corrupted that it is almost dying out. I suppose thatit was too pure to please the Enemy; he knew that the Granth would offer no strong opposition to the Bible. Here, in Batala, his stronghold seems to me to be Muhammadanism. It shocks me to find how that invention of Satan darkens the moral sense. What would be thought sin in another, is by some openly defended as no sinif committed by Muhammad!!

‘The Muhammadans too are so ready to stand up for their false faith; far more inclined to defend it than the Hindus are to defend theirs. Mera Bhatija was saying to-day that no book has been written against Christianity by a Hindu. I have myself, however, seen a very bitter article in a paper. But, generally speaking, the Muhammadans seem to be much sterner opponents of Truth than the Hindus. I feel it in the Zenanas.

‘Now, my own Laura, I am going to my long task of reading the Granth. It puts me on vantage-ground when I can tell the Natives that I have read their Scriptures.’

The High School was not to have broken up before the middle of August; but circumstances caused Mr. Baring to fix upon a fortnight earlier, and this decided Miss Tucker to go to Amritsar on July 28. She at once planned that two of the hard-worked ladies at the Mission bungalow should then take their holiday, while she remained as a companion to the third. It does not appear that she had any idea of the Hills for herself. No doubt the change to Amritsar would mean pleasure, if not rest; and she was still able to speak of herself as ‘wonderfully well’; but the unselfish thought for every one else, rather than of her own needs, is not the less remarkable.

To one of her correspondents she wrote from Batala on the 6th of July: ‘You know that I am the only Englishwoman within twenty miles. Now and then friends pass a night here; but in the hot weather not often.... The 29th will, if I stay till then, complete sixteen weeks of steady residence, during which I have only twice seen English ladies,—for less than twenty-four hours. I doubt whether any European has ever stopped in Batala so long before without a single night’s absence.... Once fromFriday evening to Monday morning I saw no white face. There is a nice brown lady in the house.’[84]

At Amritsar she found herself as usual in the midst of engrossing interests. Fresh Baptisms were taking place; and about these she wrote to Mrs. Hamilton on the 21st of August, describing one just past:—

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