Chapter III: A.d. 1876

CURIOUS WAYS

More than half of Charlotte Tucker’s first year in India was now over; and still no thought of work for herself in Batala had arisen. She knew about Batala, and was interested in the place, no doubt, as in all other outlying parts where Missionary work had been even fitfully attempted. But Amritsar was thus far her home; and there she expected to remain. She continued to study hard and perseveringly, in preparation for fuller work, often lamenting her own slowness in learning to speak; and already she was making herself known and beloved by a few Indians,--either Christian, or disposed towards Christianity.

After her return from Dalhousie she wrote in joyous strains: ‘Here I am at dear Amritsar again, which I much prefer to the abode amongst the clouds.’ There was some idea that she might have to go all the way back to Dalhousie, to nurse a sick Missionary there; and she was perfectly willing to do so, without hesitation on the score of fatigue, without a thought of the long, troublesome journey. No one else could be so well spared at that period from Amritsar as herself; and this she fully realised. ‘If however dear Florrie rallies nicely,’ she wrote, ‘I have not the slightest intention of going to cloudland again. Pankah-land suits my taste better.’ Happily, it was not necessary for her to go.

It was in the spring or summer of this year that she began to name her various new friends after certain jewels, according to her estimate of their respective gifts and characters. She possessed, in imagination, a jewelled bracelet, representing the different Missionary gentlemen of her acquaintance,--Diamond, Opal, Amethyst, etc. A companion bracelet was supposed to represent the Missionary ladies,--consisting of Diamond, Sardonix, Onyx, etc. Also she had in mind ‘an extraordinary necklace, Oriental pattern, formed of Native friends,’--those Indian Christians, whom she had begun to know and to love, many of whom repaid her love, and did not disappoint her trust in the coming years.

A little later, in the letter describing this favourite idea, she adds: ‘Now we come to my yellow girdle, studded with gems. This is composed of dear ones in Old England; my own Laura being the Pearl nearest the heart.’

A more prosaic and less romantic nature can perhaps hardly understand, much less sympathise with, the delight afforded to her curiously symbol-loving mind by this manner of regarding those whom she loved.

In July a letter speaks of ‘seeing more of the lights and shadows of Missionary life’ than before. A certain young Muhammadan, in whom they were greatly interested, after long inquiry and hesitation, at length made up his mind to come boldly forward, and to be baptized. Arrangements were made for his Baptism in the Church by a Native clergyman; the matter being kept as quiet as possible, for avoidance of the opposition which was sure to arise. Miss Tucker was told only on the morning of the day what was about to happen; and great was her delight, as well as her fear that some hindrance might intervene.

‘I had a kind of intuitive feeling,’ she said, ‘that something might come to prevent the Convert from openly confessing his Lord. I knew not how great the danger was.’

One hour remained before the time fixed for the Baptism, when the young man--Babu G. he may be called--came in, troubled and pale. His Mother had somehow divined his intention, and was doing her utmost to prevent its being carried out. She flung a brick at the head of one Christian Native, who had had a hand in influencing the young Muhammadan; she raved and beat her breast; she cursed and tore her hair; she declared to her son that if he became a Christian she would die.

Babu G. believed all this, and was sorely shaken. His Mother was brought to the Mission-house, and a vehement scene followed. The old lady sat upon the ground, pouring out threats and curses, beating her breast and tearing her hair anew,--only, as A. L. O. E. somewhat drily observed afterwards, she very cleverly avoided hurting herself by her blows, and none of her hair seemed to come out with all the apparent ‘tearing.’ But the young man could hardly be expected to see this as a stranger would! He wavered--hesitated--and at last gave way. The Baptism did not take place; and the unhappy young fellow, convinced of the truth of Christianity, willing in heart to be a servant of Christ, had not courage to take his own decision, but remained a Muhammadan. Bitter tears were shed over his defection by gentle Mrs. Elmslie; the first that Miss Tucker had ever seen her shed.

Such stories as this show conclusively that _the_ work which most of all needs to be done in India is to transform the Mothers,--to educate a generation of Christian Mothers. Their sons then will be Christian too. No power in the world surpasses that of a mother over her children, whether she be English or Hindu or Muhammadan.

Charlotte Tucker’s stern side seems to have come out in this stormy interview with the furious old lady. ‘Are you not _afraid_,’ she demanded, ‘that God’s anger is on you? You have been your son’s enemy. When affliction comes, remember,--_remember_,--REMEMBER!’

Side by side, however, with this great disappointment, were other more hopeful aspects of the work. Light and shade naturally go together. A few days later she wrote:--

‘The mother still holds her unhappy son in bonds, and forbids
him even to breathe the air of our compound.... But even about
her we need not despair. I was reading the Gospel to-day with
the sweetest-looking elderly woman that I have seen in India.
All beauty generally departs with youth, but this woman is
really attractive still. She was in bitter grief at the baptism
of her eldest son; when the next was baptized she blessed him;
and now she is quite ready for baptism herself. Such a sweet
expression came over her face yesterday when I reminded her of
her former grief and her present joy!’

On August 8th she wrote:--

‘The old Chaukidar[44] made us laugh the other evening by his
earnest, emphatic warning against our ladies driving out at
night. He uses sometimes almost frantic gesticulations. He told
us that there is danger of meeting at night a dreadful being,
in appearance somewhat like Mr. H.--a tall, fair, blue-eyed
handsome young friend of ours!--whose object is to _cut off
English heads_. I have heard of a similar superstition in the
Hills; but there I fancy that Native heads, not English, were
in requisition. You can imagine from this what a funny fellow
the old Chaukidar is; but we look on him as true as steel.
One day Mrs. E. found him most good-naturedly pulling Iman’s
pankah for him. She was so much pleased that she gave him four
pomegranates. The old fellow was delighted, and at once gave
three of them away, keeping only one for himself. His friend,
our half-blind Iman, was one to benefit by his generosity.’

The name ‘Iman,’ meaning ‘Faith,’ was bestowed by Miss Tucker upon a poor pankah-wala, whose affectionate disposition made a strong impression upon her. The poor fellow, although half-blind, volunteered one day to walk the whole twenty-four miles to Batala and back in three days, to carry medicine to a sick woman there,--the wife of the young Muhammadan, Babu G., above mentioned. Iman himself was, to say the least, disposed to be a Christian. These little side facts all serve to show the manner of influence which was acting gradually in all directions.

In another letter, belonging to August, are the words: ‘We are rather on the tiptoe of expectation about our Bishop that is to be. There is a rumour that good Mr. ---- is the man; but surely it is impossible that such a shy, boy-like Missionary should be turned into a Right Reverend Father!’ The appointment when made proved to be that of Bishop French, well known in Mutiny days as Mr. French of Agra, who utterly refused to allow the Christian Natives to be banished from the town, as was proposed by some faint-hearted people there. If they went, Mr. French said, he would go with them; and he undertook to answer for their faithfulness. His resolution prevailed; and the little band of Indian Christians were faithful to the end of the Siege.

About this time a change took place, which A. L. O. E. ‘quite approved,’ but which she did not ‘like.’ Mrs. Elmslie left the Mission Bungalow, to live at the neighbouring Orphan House, taking charge of the orphans. A superintendent under her had hitherto done the work, but had proved inefficient; and the new plan was not only better in itself, but promised to save money--always a prime consideration where Missionary funds have to be considered.

On August 23rd comes a letter of some importance, respecting the kind of Missionaries wanted out there. This subject will recur from time to time in the course of the correspondence; but even at so early a stage as this Miss Tucker seems to have clearly grasped what was and what was not required.

‘It is very kind in you to send me the _Illustrated_. After
it has been seen here, and at the Orphanage, and by the dear,
good Germans, off it starts for Dalhousie, and Florrie probably
makes it over to the soldiers after she has done with it; so
you see that you benefit many by your kindness.

‘I do not think that my Margaret at all enjoys being away from
us in the schoolhouse, though she keeps bright and brave. “The
Mother is as home-sick as can be,” was the description given
by one of our ladies, this house being the “home” meant. Of
course, we go over and pet her, and get her here when we can.
I hear that her room was leaking so last night; that must be
looked to at once. But rooms had a fair excuse for leaking; we
had such a storm!...

‘It was amusing when Emily, Ada, and I were talking over our
youth the other day. Dashing, energetic games had been the
delight of my companions; and I begin to imagine that cricket,
rounders, and bolstering form no bad preparation for Missionary
life. Dash and energy and physical strength are very desirable.
We want ladies who fear nothing, grumble at nothing, and are
ready to carry the Holy War into the enemy’s camp. One of
Emily’s many advantages is that she is a fearless rider. I am
rather alarmed at hearing that an extremely delicate lady is
coming out to us. We want hearty, strong ladies, not sickly
ones. The Missionaries are too short of hands to be able to
undertake much sick-nursing. If I were to require to be nursed
at night--which, thank God, I have not done--I should feel
inclined to run off somewhere or other, so as not to tax the
strength of my nieces.’

Only two days later we have mention of the first Baptism in Batala, her future home during so many years. She writes: ‘A deeply interesting event took place yesterday at Batala; the baptism of a Brahmin, a man in a very influential position, and in Government employ. Dear Sadiq[45] and I believe other Christians went to Batala on Wednesday for the Baptism, which was to be as public as possible--in a tank.’ This was written August 25; and on the 29th she gave more particulars.

‘The jackals treated us to their varied music last night; but
one does not mind them a bit, for they never seem to attack
people, or intrude into houses. I wish that they would teach
their good manners to the sparrows. The cheetah also is a
modest creature. There was an account very lately of a cheetah
going into a verandah at Dalhousie; nothing between it and the
interior of the house but a chick blind; but it was too polite
to intrude. It would be rather exciting to look at a cheetah
through a chick blind; you can see through it quite well, as
the light is outside.

‘But, O Laura, I ought not to waste my space on cheetahs or
jackals, when I can write of things so _much_ more interesting.
I had such an interesting account of the Baptism of B--n,
the Brahmin at Batala, from Mr. Beutel,[46] supplemented by
one from Sadiq. They were both present.... Mr. Beutel observed
that he (B--n) had had to go through more than many do in
a campaign. Why, except the Catechist and his wife, he is
the only Christian that we know of in that fierce, bigoted
Batala. As the Muhammadans did not know of the time fixed for
the baptism, at the beginning of the Service by the tank not
many people gathered; but seeing that something was going on,
gradually a crowd collected. At last the crowd grew large--and
excited also--and the police authority had to be called in for
protection.

‘Perhaps the worst of all was the Christian’s reception at his
home; his wife came with her three little ones to meet him,
beating her breast, etc. Sadiq had intended to carry B--n back
to Amritsar with him, to let the first fury of the storm blow
over; but poor B--n preferred remaining at Batala, because if
he left his wife, he did not know what she might do with his
children. So there the brave fellow remains. We ought to pray
earnestly for this our brother.’

In a letter to her niece, Mrs. Boswell, on September 1st, Charlotte Tucker spoke of herself as ‘heart-sick with anxiety’ about the convert, regretting much that he had not come to Amritsar.

‘Would that he could have carried wife and children off with
him! but I suppose that this was impossible, against the
woman’s will. Dear Sadiq soon went again to Batala;--alas!
he was not suffered to see the convert, who is surrounded by
enemies, and seems to be quite in their power. B--n’s wife,
after starving herself for three days from grief at his
baptism, has died, it is said from an attack of cholera.

‘Our fear is that the heathen are starving B--n and his three
children to death! One poor lamb is but a few months old.
If I were a man, I would be off to Batala. My friend Mr. H.
has written a strong note to an English official at no great
distance from Batala,--there _not one_ Englishman resides,--and
I feel little doubt that he will bring the strong arm of the
law to protect B--n. But the note will not reach till this
evening. For eight days B--n will have been in the fiery
furnace. How long can he hold out?’

Reports, happily false, of the retractation of the convert came to distress them at Amritsar; and Mr. Beutel, leaving his wife and mother dangerously ill, went over to Batala to inquire how matters stood. He found B--n, though much tried and sorely pressed, still standing firm.

It is melancholy to read of Charlotte Tucker’s eager delight in carrying the good news to her favourite Maulvi Z.,--of whom at that time she thought so well and hopefully as an established Christian, and who in later years was to grieve her most bitterly by himself becoming an apostate.

Letters at this time show her steadily growing interest in Batala, her ever-increasing desire for systematic work there.

‘_Sept. 14, 1876._--I have been delaying writing till I could
give you news from Batala,--that place towards which Missionary
eyes longingly turn, as those of the Germans did towards
Strasburg. May Batala be given to us, as Strasburg was to them.’

* * * * *

‘_Sept. 20._--As regards my little Indian tales, I have sent a
good many to Nelson, who has accepted them; and consequently I
suppose intends to publish them. It is very likely that they
have been appearing in the _Family Treasury_.... Sadiq had
just come from Batala, where he had seen B--n. Dear Sadiq! I
think that he must have gone altogether seven or eight times
to Batala. He is a friend worth having. B--n expressed his
willingness to bring his little girls to Amritsar; but his baby
was so very, very ill, that he feared she could not be moved....
The little lamb appeared to be sinking fast. My surprise is
how she has been kept alive so long. The last account was that
the baby was “not fit to be picked off the charpai”;[47] she
seemed dying. Dear little martyred innocent,--dying because her
father gave himself to Christ! B--n intends to bring his two
elder children; but of course nothing can be done while baby is
dying....

‘O Laura, I feel as if these two deaths in Batala marked the
place as _our own_. So much cannot have been suffered in vain.’

TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.

_‘Sept. 26, 1876._

‘Those rogues of sparrows have fairly driven me out of my room
this morning. They make such a chatter. I intend to request
Mr. H. benevolently to shoot a few; just to show the rest that
really they must not expect to be allowed to build, and gossip,
and make themselves disagreeable in every possible way in the
room of a Buzurg Miss Sahiba....

‘It is much cooler. These two last nights I have needed
no pankah, and was able to bear a blanket. I have resumed
wearing a merino vest by day, and it is very comfortable. The
darzi,[48] who squats in the verandah, is busy on a magnificent
dressing-gown, which I have ordered. I brought out flannel from
England, but not a flannel dressing-gown, so I have bought a
rich shawl-pattern, and the flannel will line it, and I shall
look like a Maliká[49] and feel--almost as comfortable as a
sparrow.... It seemed to be a question with the darzi whether the
white flannel was to be inside or outside! The matter appeared
to interest some of the servants. One lives in such a public
way in India. Whatever one gives to be made or mended is made
or mended in the verandah; and the darzi, as he cuts out,
clips, and sews, talks--perhaps with the pankah-wala, perhaps a
stranger, perhaps the munshi (tutor) whose pupil is not quite
ready to take her lesson.... There is no shutting the world out;
and the Indian world is such a curious world.

‘Then people’s characters are so public; no one seems to think
it worth while to wear thick cloaks over them. Everybody seems
to know about everybody else. The very public papers seem
personal. ... O yes, India is a very curious place,--people
curious,--ways curious,--insects curious,--dress curious, etc.
The very Anglo-Saxon character appears in a new and curious
aspect. India is a place to develop an instinct to command,
and to carry things with a high hand. Weakness does almost as
much harm as wickedness. But I feel myself too old to learn the
zabardast[50] way of going on. I am not fitted to grasp reins
of government, and drive a team of twenty-two Indian servants,
syces, pankah-walas, bearer, khitmatgar, ayah, etc., see that
the horses are not cheated of grain, that pankah-walas pull,
that kahars don’t take French leave, etc. etc. I hope that
Florrie[51] will hold the reins, if she and I go off together.’

* * * * *

‘_Oct. 5._--We had a visit from our good Pastor Sadiq
yesterday. I was the one to receive him. You know that I am
not strong in the language yet. I knew that Sadiq was speaking
about sickness, castor-oil, and quinine, and people going
about to look after the sufferers; but I could not get at his
full meaning; and as he was clearly on business, I thought
it better to call in C. to my aid. It was well that I did!
Sadiq’s heart was full of Batala--our Strasburg--where people
are dying of fever, faster than even in Amritsar. Sadiq wanted
a subscription to be made instanter to send off quinine and
castor-oil. The Christian lawyer, R., would go on to-day or
to-morrow, and Sadiq himself would follow on Monday. Talk of
languid, apathetic Hindus! Sadiq, when he takes a thing into
his head, goes at it like a battering-ram....

‘To-day I had what seemed to poor me a long _tête-à-tête_ with
the Pandit from O----, that village which you will remember I
visited with Margaret. O dear! it was a bit of a mental effort.
He is a learned man! I longed for C. to come to my rescue, but
battled with verbs and genders as well as I could.

‘I was determined to do the polite, so I boldly asked the
Pandit to stay to dinner. I could do so, as, oddly enough, I
am now the senior Missionary at Amritsar,[52] though I feel
such a child in the language. Rather to my surprise, the Pandit
accepted my invitation at once. He would not eat with us when
he was here before, nor when at O----, for he is a curious
half-and-half sort of Christian,[53] leading such a lonely life
amongst heathen. The Pandit shared our meal, but only took
vegetables and bread-and-butter.

‘Do you not laugh at the notion of poor Char, sitting at the
head of a table, and entertaining a Pandit, and feeling her
ignorance, and plunging about in a bog of Urdu? I did not,
however, attempt to talk much after C. came in, as she has been
nearly four years in India, and speaks the language well.’

When the next letter was written, on October 14, the Batala plan was under discussion. Padri Sadiq seems to have first suggested the idea that Miss Tucker should proceed thither with Miss Swainson, and open a Mission in the place. Miss Tucker does not appear to have at first viewed the scheme with any great enthusiasm.

‘Such a merry breakfast we had this morning! Our three dear
ladies, Margaret, Emily, and Florrie, arrived at about 9 A.M.
after nine hours of raft,--very tiring, for it involved much
walking, and it was raining away,--and twelve of dâk-gari.
Margaret looked young and lovely; Florrie much improved.... She
is delighted with the Batala scheme; but Margaret tells me
that it cannot be carried out till December at earliest, and
I have my doubts about its being carried out at all. At any
rate, the difficulties will not have come from _me_. I am quite
willing to go; but of course a new station would involve the
Committee in expenses, and it is not easy to procure a suitable
house, etc., so it is likely enough that Sadiq’s plan will be
disapproved of in high quarters. I quietly wait to see what
direction is taken by “the fiery, cloudy pillar.” ...

‘Last night I had to chaperon to our noisy, bustling station
after dark a young Missionary, who looks to me quite unfledged.
There I met the school-teacher, Miss ----, with her young
sister, yet more unfledged, bound on the same errand.... I
think that the stations at Indian cities are more noisy and
bustling than the worst London ones. It almost shocks my sense
of propriety, young girls travelling at night,--it is funny
even to an old lady, hurrying up and down a bustling platform
amongst Natives. I think that I managed pretty well for _my_
charge, for I got her into a carriage with a lady and children,
so she was safe enough; she was not to cross the Sutlej till
daylight. Poor little Miss ---- was put by her sister into
an empty carriage; but who knows whether some drunken, low
European may not have got into it at the next station? And the
poor, simple little thing was to cross the Sutlej at midnight,
with her baggage to look after!!! We would hardly do such
things in England. I have slept a night here, _with not a soul
in the house but myself_, and the house seems so strangely
open; but I was not a bit afraid.’

* * * * *

‘_Oct. 20, 1876._--When this reaches you, perhaps you will be
feeling the first pinch of winter. We do not escape it here in
our bright, glowing Panjab. I cherish a fond hope that if we
go to Batala, we shall find it warmer than Amritsar.... Emily,
Florrie, and Sadiq have gone off to-day on a house-hunting
expedition to Batala. It is considered a very healthy place;
except, of course, at present--an exceptional season. If I go,
I do not expect to have much to do at first except learn the
language. I leave school-work to Florrie; she is well up to it;
and I hear that Zenanas are likely to be very slow in opening....

‘My Munshi ... asked me to give him leave of absence on the next
day, or that following it, as it would be the Muhammadans’
_great day_. He could not tell me which of the two days it
would be, because all would depend on the moon. If the moon
were seen on the night after the 18th, then the 19th would be
the feast day, the end of the long Muhammadan fast. If the
moon were not seen, the poor people must wait till the 20th.
“Suppose,” said I, “that the people at Lahore see the moon,
and that those at Amritsar do not, will the Lahore folk have a
feast and you a fast?” A. answered in the affirmative....

‘I talked with A. a little about the fasting. He told me with
gusto that he had once gone to the house of a Muhammadan
friend, who happened to have a little hole in his door, on one
of the days of the fast. A., the old rogue, peeped through the
hole, and detected his friend in the act of eating. A. then
knocked at the door. His friend--it made me think of Friar
Tuck!--popped the food into a box, wiped his mouth, and was
ready to receive his visitor. “What were you doing?” asked A.
“Reading,” was the reply. Then A. opened the box, and showed
the discomfited hypocrite the food, and--according to his own
account--gave the man a lecture. I have my doubts about the
latter part of the story--I mean the lecture.’

* * * * *

‘_Oct. 26._--Our poor city has been bearing some
resemblance to a hospital. Some think that not one of her
inhabitants--120,000--has altogether escaped the fever, and
many have died; but I am thankful to write that the sickness
is on the decrease.... I cannot, however, go to dear Louis, for
the Beutels, who have been very ill, are going to Ludhiana;
and their mother, too ill to be moved, must have some one to
look after her a little during their absence. I am the only
lady available, being well, and with no pressure of work. I am
almost astonished at having been so exempted from suffering,
when thousands and thousands have been so ill. I have not spent
a day in bed ... since leaving England. It is a cause for much
thankfulness. Of course I had a little fever, but it has left
no dregs. The weather is so nice, that one hardly understands
why any one should be ill....

‘The Batala plan is rather hanging fire at present. Day after
day passes, and no reply is received to the letter asking
permission for us to occupy apartments in the palace. No other
place in or near Batala seems to be available. Even in the
palace considerable alterations would be needed, to make the
rooms at all suitable for English ladies.’

* * * * *

‘_Nov. 16._--Sadiq does not quite approve of our selection of
a house. He would have liked one right in the city; but it is
far pleasanter to us to be a little out of it.... I asked him
if he had any news of B--n. Sadiq told me that he had seen
him at Batala, the beginning of last week. Our brave Brahmin
convert had been very ill, and had written--or caused to be
written--a paper stating that he wished his body to be buried
by Christians, his children brought up by Christians, and his
property taken care of by the Mission. I am thankful to say
that B--n did not die; but as Sadiq said, he has had affliction
upon affliction.... In a few months this convert has lost wife,
babe, and only brother. Sadiq said that B--n’s regret about the
babe was that it had not been baptized. But when I remarked
that I thought the babe had been a kind of martyr, like the
little ones killed by Herod, Sadiq looked pleased.’

* * * * *

‘_Dec. 1._--I suppose that my next letter will be addressed to
you from my new home in Batala. My nieces are very anxious to
make arrangements for my comfort. I am not to have the trouble
of helping to put the new house into order. Two ladies go
before to make everything nice....

‘I went to dear S. Begum to-day,--the one who was lately
baptized with her young daughter,--to speak to her about Holy
Communion. I am glad that I shall have the First Sunday in
Advent in Amritsar. It will seem strange to reside in a place
where there is no church! I suppose that we shall go over to
the Catechist’s house, and have Urdu service there....

‘It was very interesting to hear Mr. Wade’s account of the
opening of a little church in the village of G. The peculiar
and very interesting feature of the affair is that in this
Rajput village a little flock has been gathered just by
_Native_ agency. And the way for the Native evangelist, the
excellent C., was wondrously prepared.

‘In old Runjit’s time a kind of Native prophet declared that
our Lord was greater than all others. This Pandit was succeeded
by another, who declared that all the people would become the
Lord’s followers. They who came first would receive _honour_;
they who came next, a mere _subsistence_; they who came last
would be _driven_ in! Then a third teacher arose--the present
one. He said that a shepherd pushes one sheep after another
into the fold, and when all are in follows himself; and that
so _he_ would get the people into the Christian fold, and then
follow them.

‘It seems to us a most extraordinary way of evangelising; but
when the Rev. C. came to the village, he found that these
strange teachers had really ploughed up the ground to receive
the good seed; and the third teacher _has_ come himself into
the fold with four of his relatives. His wife still holds out.

‘The opening of the tiny church was a delightful scene. There
are only 14 or 15 baptized Christians; but the people, men and
women, flocked in, till there was hardly room to sit on the
ground. In the thoroughly Oriental church there are no seats.’

* * * * *

‘_Dec. 4, 1876._--I have this morning read your loving
expostulation to Margaret and myself regarding Batala.
You think that your strong point is my unfitness for an
out-station. But, sweet one, you forget that I am so specially
fitted, by age, for the post, that if I were to draw back, the
whole promising plan might fall to the ground. The Natives
reverence grey hairs; and I dare say that some of them will pet
me. As for the language, I manage to get on after a fashion,
and smiles go a good way.

‘I assure you that I have never felt my heart lighter than I
have done lately, fond as I am of those I leave. It seems as if
the way were so plain. If I were perfectly dumb, I should still
be useful as a chaperon. But I am not quite dumb.

‘I had such a golden First Sunday in Advent yesterday.... Fancy
the encouragement of seeing B--n, the one Christian convert
residing in Batala, and sharing the Cup with him in our dear
Amritsar Church. I shook hands with him after afternoon
service. I am sorry that when I uttered the two words, “Hamara
bhai,”[54] I should have said “Hamare,” instead of “Hamara.” It
was a pity that my first word should have been incorrect; but I
could not think of grammar at such a moment.... Then I have had
such an encouraging note from dear Emily, who is making things
straight for me at Batala....--Your happy

CHAR.’