Chapter XV: The Children's Chapter

In 1861 we again returned to our Eastern home, leaving our three children behind, and taking only our baby girl for companion. What a difference it makes in India, to "leave the children behind!"--a common fate indeed for parents, but not the less to be deplored. We used to think and speak of Sarawak as home until 1861; but ever after, we spoke of going home to our children, for where the treasure is there must the heart be also. To do the work so that the time might pass quickly and peacefully, to live upon the mails from England, to carry on two lives as it were, one in the present, the other in the pictures our English letters presented--such at any rate was my fate, though my husband was too true a missionary to feel as I did.

Most of our old Sarawak friends had either died or gone away when we returned in '61, but the mission grew more and more interesting as Christian Churches sprang up on the Dyak rivers. Four new missionaries came out soon after our arrival. Mr. and Mrs. Abè, Mr. Zehnder, Mr. Mesney, and Mr. Crossland, the two latter from St. Augustine's College, Canterbury, from whence had formerly come those two good men, Mr. Chalmers and Mr. Glover. They had both gone to Australia on account of their health, but the teaching of Mr. Chalmers had left its mark among the land Dyaks of Murdang and the Quop, so that Mr. Abè, who was afterwards placed on that station, reaped the harvest which had been sown with many prayers two years before. Mr. Mesney succeeded Mr. Glover at Banting, and its many branch missions; and Mr. Crossland went farther off, to the Dyaks, on the Undop, where he eventually built a church and gathered a little flock of Christians about him. Mr. Richardson came as catechist about the same time, and after staying a short time at Lundu, built himself a house among the Selaku Dyaks at Sedemac, in the country towards Sambas. He was much beloved by those simple people, who speak quite a different language to the Lundus. They exerted themselves to build their own church of substantial balean-wood, and their women learnt to pray as well as the men. "To learn to pray" is the Dyak description of a Christian. "What will you do," asked a missionary, "to bring those around you to Christ?" "I will teach them to pray," was the answer. And surely this is the great distinction between the Christian and the heathen--the one has communion with his Father in heaven, an all-powerful, wise, and loving Friend; the other may cherish some vague belief and worship of an unknown God, but has neither love nor trust to carry him above this world's troubles and trials.

Another baby was added to our family in May, 1862, whose mother died at her birth. This little one stayed with us only seventeen months, and was a great happiness to me; then Sir James Brooke took her to England. However, it was a pleasant chapter as long as it lasted.

Julia, one of our original school-girls, became very useful to me at this time. We had taken her home with us in '59, and sent her to a training-school for teachers in Dublin, so that she was quite competent on our return to take the management of the girls' school. We had eight girls in the house, and a few day-scholars from the town. Lessons used to go on in a room on the basement, where of course I was superintendent, and they learnt sewing in the afternoon. Julia was a very gentle mistress, and I was feeling very happy about my girls, when I found to my sorrow that Julia had an admirer, and I must make up my mind to part with my child who had lived with us since she was four years old. Such natural events must not be considered trials, but the difficulty of replacing her was insuperable. I was obliged at last to send my girls to Mrs. Abè, at the Quop Station, for I was too often away in the mission-boat with the Bishop to keep them at the mission-house. This was not until 1865, however. Poor Mildred felt parting with "her girls," as she called them, very much, and often said, "Mamma, if Sarah and Fanny might come back we would never, never quarrel any more." Are not such pricks of conscience common to us all when our dear ones leave us? But the past never returns!

In 1863, the Bishop built a charming little yawl for mission work. The _Fanny_ was just suited, from her light draught of water, to cross the bars of the rivers, and she was a very good sea-boat too. Not only was she wanted to take the Bishop on his missionary, tours, but she brought the missionaries to Sarawak when, they came for ordinations, or the annual synod; also when they were sick, and required medical aid or change. Very few clergymen know much about the management of boats, and native crafts are very unsafe, so that until the Bishop had a yacht many accidents used to occur, not actually dangerous, for the natives swim like fishes, but drenchings and loss of goods from the upsetting of boats. In the north-east monsoon _Fanny_ was thatched over and laid snugly up a creek, but all the south-west monsoon she was very useful; and no one wanted to travel about, if they could help it, during the wet tempestuous weather which prevailed from November to March.

The Bishop paid his annual visit to Labuan in any steamer which happened to be going. We had the great advantage of frequent visits from an English gunboat, for the admiral of the Chinese seas had orders from England to tell off one gun-boat for the two stations of Labuan and Sarawak. This arose from our being also blest with the presence of an English consul. But after he and his wife had remained two years at Sarawak, they were heartily tired of the dulness of their lives, and did their best to get removed to a more stirring station. However, the recognition of England gave confidence to native traders and security to the well disposed, so that there ensued a time of peace such as we had not experienced during our former sojourns in the country.

SCHOOL CHILDREN. _Page_ 194.]

I think the history of our life during these years may be partly told by the letters I wrote to my children at home, or extracts from them; so that this may be called the children's chapter.

Sunday before Easter, 1862.

MY DARLING MAB,

I am glad you are not here, for it is very, very hot, and you
would probably have a bad headache. Julia is sitting in the
verandah teaching Polly, Sarah, Fanny, and Phoebe the Easter
hymn for next Sunday. Ayah is walking up and down with Mildred,
and Louis Koch is running about, making her laugh. I must tell
you how we spend the day. Papa gets up at five, and takes a ride
on his pony. I make the tea at six, and cut bread and butter for
Ayah and Julia, and Samchoon, one of the boys who has had fever
and wants feeding up. The bell calls us to church at seven, but
I don't go till the afternoon. The gardener brings me a tray of
flowers, and I make the nosegays for the day. Then I go
downstairs and see the butter made. The boy brings in a great
jar of milk, with which he mixes some warm water; into this he
puts a long piece of bamboo, with cross pieces fixed in it like
the spokes of a wheel. This he twirls round and round in the jar
till the butter comes. Then he takes it out with his black
hands, and I carry it off and wash and salt it. We only get five
ounces now at a time, though there are six cows in milk; but the
calves are such miserable little things they have to be helped
first, and fed with rice-gruel also. The butter finished, I go
up to the sewing-class, who are very busy making their Easter
clothes, both boys and girls; and I help them with my
sewing-machine until half-past ten, only running away
twice--once to see what the school cook has brought for their
breakfast, and then to order our own. Then we all bathe and
breakfast, and Ayah goes away for two hours for her breakfast
and midday nap; and I take care of Mildred, which is, I own, the
hardest part of my day's work, for the little restless thing
will never let me sit down, and is up to all sorts of mischief.
At two o'clock Ayah comes and sings Mildred to sleep, with the
same old tune of "Doo doo baby" which you used to sing to your
dolls. I think in the next box I have from home you might send
your old friends Sarah and Fanny a doll each, and dress them
yourself. Our Malay Tuan Ku was here the other day and asked
after you; he remembered your Malay fairy tales.

* * * * *

MY BELOVED CHILD,

Our letters were very welcome last Sunday, _Easter Sunday_,
telling us good news of you all. Our church was very gay with
flowers and moss ferns; and the font was filled with large pink
water-lilies, whose beautiful round green leaves, a foot wide at
least, looked quite lovely round the white shell font. All holy
week and Easter Monday and Tuesday we had full service at seven
o'clock in the morning, papa preaching a short sermon from the
altar. It was delightfully cool at that hour, and began the day
so pleasantly. I always love Easter, when all our dear ones seem
to be gathered to us in Christ our Lord, whether those in Heaven
or those far away--all one family, and Christ's children through
God the Father's love and mercy. I have been very busy. The
school-children had all new clothes for Easter. We worked
diligently for three hours every morning. The jackets were made
of the Irish gingham I brought from home. This week is holiday,
and Julia and I have had a fine wash, and have clear-starched
the Bishop's sleeves and ruffles--such a business! My hand aches
to-day with lifting the heavy smoothing-iron, which is not iron,
but a large brass box, hollow and filled with hot charcoal. We
shall get more used to it in time. Mrs. Stahl used to do it. Now
she is gone it is quite impossible to let the Kling Dobie touch
papa's sleeves; they would soon be torn to ribbons. I gave the
school a treat on Easter Tuesday. They had two soup-tureens full
of syllabub, plum cake, and pine-apple puffs. My cook stared
when I said, "Make forty large pine-apple puffs." However, they
were for his own countrymen--he is Chinese. I thought at first
he understood English, for he always said "Yes" to my orders;
but it was his one word. After the school-children had finished
off with fruit and native cakes, they had, what they like best
of all, quantities of crackers, which filled the house with the
smell of gunpowder, and frightened baby Mildred out of her
sleep. Good-bye.

* * * * *

July, 1862.

MY PRECIOUS MAB,

Thank you for your note, written on the 4th of May, which I
received the other day. I always rejoice to think of you in the
springtime, because, like other young things, you enjoy the
opening buds, flowers, and sunshine after the long grave winter.
But winter is a good friend, although he has a grave face; we
should be all the better for a visit from him out here. My
garden is now as full of flowers as it will hold; Mrs. Little
brought me so many new ones from Singapore. I have a very gay
nosegay every morning, and still, leave flowers to adorn the
beds outside. We have turned out some of the fruit-trees to make
more room for flowers. This morning I have sown a quantity of
blue and purple convolvulus, which only display their beauties
to those who rise early before the sun closes their blossoms;
but we have flowers which only open at night, the moon-flower,
and night-blowing cereus, both white and fragrant. Dr. Little
has been travelling about the country looking for new plants. He
and Mr. Koch went to the top of the mountain of Poè near Lundu.
It was so cold six thousand feet above the level of the sea,
that they had to supply the natives who went with them with
blankets. At the very top of the mountain they found a new
orchid growing on the ground, a bright yellow flower, with
streaks of magenta colour inside. Dr. Little picked some of the
blossoms, and dug up one hundred roots, two of which he gave me;
but they will not live in my garden, they want mountain air. He
also gave me the dead flowers, and asked me to paint a picture
of one from his description and the faded blossom. I did it as
well as I could, but I fear it was not very good, and, after
all, the flower was not nearly as pretty as a bunch of laburnum
in England. They also found growing on the roots of a tree that
strange fungus flower described by Sir Stamford Raffles in his
book on Java and Sumatra--a yard wide across the petals,
brilliantly coloured red, purple, yellow and white, and, in the
hollow of the flower (nectarium), capable of holding twelve
pints of water, the whole weighing from fifteen to twenty
pounds; for it is a thick fleshy flower, not frail and delicate
as one likes a flower to be. It is very curious and gorgeous,
but as soon as it is fully expanded it begins to decay and
smells putrid. Sir James Brooke once found a specimen of this
gigantic flower in the jungle, and sent it to me to look at; but
it had lost all its beauty in the journey, and I held my nose as
I looked at it. The Dyaks said, "It is an auton" (spirit), which
is their explanation of anything they never saw before. The
natives of Sumatra call it "The Devil's sirih-box."[8] Are you
as fond of frogs as you used to be? Last week, some people were
dining with us. I had just helped the soup, and, letting my hand
fall upon my lap, picked up one of your friends who had settled
himself there. Not knowing at first what the cold clammy thing
was, I jumped up, and everybody else jumped up too, to see what
was the matter; for it might have been a snake, you know!
Good-bye.

[Footnote 8: The real name is _Rafflesia Arnoldi_. See page 343,
vol. i., "Raffles' Life and Journals."]

* * * * *

December 1, 1862.

MY DEAREST MAB,

Uncle told me of your walk with him to West Hyde Church, and how
you made believe to get to Sarawak and see mamma walking in the
verandah. You are much better off in the cold December air of
England, than you would be in this sultry place, for all its
green beauty and never-failing flowers. I had rather you carried
the roses in your cheeks than have them in the garden all the
year round. Last month papa went to visit the Quop Mission,
where Mr. and Mrs. Abi and their little baby, and your old Ayah
Fatima, live. To get there he goes down the Sarawak River and
up the Quop River, then lands at a Malay village, from whence
there is a walk of three or four miles, up and down pretty hills
and across Dyak bridges, and over paths made of two bamboos tied
together, with a muddy swamp on either side. Then you come to
the mission-house which papa has built, and to Mr. Chalmers' old
house, which at present serves as the church, and to some long
Dyak houses. Papa baptized twenty-four men, women, and girls,
and confirmed nineteen people who had been baptized by Mr.
Chalmers. The old Pangara, one of the principal chiefs, was
baptized, and three of his grown-up sons, and one little
grandson whom the old man held in his arms. We had made white
jackets for the baptized, but the old Pangara had not quite made
up his mind, fearing the ridicule of the other elders of the
tribe, till papa talked to him; so there was no jacket for him,
and papa gave him a clean white shirt, round the skirt of which
we tied his chawat, a very long waist-band which wraps round and
round the body, and that was all! no trousers, and very funny he
looked; but papa was too rejoiced at his becoming a Christian,
to laugh at him. These people will all be Christians soon. They
come to Mr. and Mrs. Abi, morning, noon, and night, to be
taught, and there are two daily services; so the missionaries
have plenty to do. Two of our old school-boys, now grown up, are
catechists there, Semirum and Aloch. There is much love between
the people and their teachers; they are so happy at the Quop
they never want to come away. However, I have asked the Abis to
come for a fortnight at Christmas, and bring their poor little
baby to be fattened on cow's milk. There are no cows at the
Quop.

* * * * *

January, 1863.

MY BELOVED CHILDREN,

As I cannot have you with me this Christmas and new year, I
must comfort myself as best I may by writing you an account of
all we have been doing, and how we have tried to fancy
ourselves in old England amidst the frost and snow,
notwithstanding the bright sunshine and perpetual green of our
Eastern home. When we woke before daylight on Christmas morning
the school boys were singing under our windows, "When Joseph
was a-walking he heard an angel sing," so we got up and looked
out, wishing the children a happy Christmas. Then we dressed,
for there was a great deal to do. Papa had many services in
church, Chinese, English, and Dyak. I had the wreaths to make.
The church had been decked with moss fern the day before, but
the flowers must be added in the morning, or they would be
faded. So Julia and I made a crown of French marigolds to hang
on the cross over the altar, two large wreaths for either side,
and one at the west end made entirely of the golden allamanda,
in the buds of which you used to imprison fire-flies when you
lived here. The font was adorned all over, in preparation for
the baptisms to take place in the morning service. At half-past
eleven we all went to church, and after the Litany there were
sixteen Dyaks from Murdang, six Chinamen, and six little
children baptized. Mr. Koch read the service in Malay, and papa
baptized. It was a beautiful sight. The children, four of my
little girls, and two small boys from the school behaved very
well, and looked pretty in their new clothes. But they all
understood something of why they were sprinkled with the
blessed water, for we had been teaching them for some time, and
Limo told me on Christmas Eve, that "our Saviour came into this
world a little child, to teach us to be good; and when He had
blessed them in their baptism, they must take pains to do all
He desired them." I thought this pretty well for a beginning.
Ambat always repeats what Limo says, so I do not know how much
is her own: she is Limo's sister. Ango and Llan, the other two
girls, have been taught by Miss Rocke, who has given them to
me; they know but little, but are gentle children. The school
had a feast at five o'clock, beef curry (papa had an ox
killed), salt pork, rice, and a huge plum-pudding. They had
newly white-washed their dining-room the week before, and
decked it with boughs, so that it looked very nice with six
lanterns hanging from the roof. They played there while we were
at dinner, and the Christian Chinese feasted at Sing Song's
house. Julia had her little party in her school-room, and
dinner from our table: some of the grown-up schoolboys and
Polly. We had Mr. and Mrs. Koch, Mr. and Mrs. Owen, Mr.
Zehnder, and Mrs. Crookshank at our table. Papa counted that
ninety-seven people were fed on the mission premises on
Christmas Day. After dinner we had a bonfire in the hollow
below our hill, between the house and the church. Quantities of
dry bamboo had been collected there, which threw up columns of
sparks, and lit up all the under leaves of the trees, making
the dark sky and the young moon look so far far away. Then the
boys began with crackers and rockets. Baby Agnes was not
frightened, but poor Mildred could not sleep for terror. Every
rocket made her call out "Bumah," and hide her face on my
shoulder; however, she got used to it at last. Christmas is the
time of year which belongs especially to children, because our
Lord Jesus Christ then deigned to become a little child. We
forget what happened to us when we were very young--even a
mother does not know all the feelings, little troubles, ardent
wishes and desires of her little ones--but it is impossible
that our Saviour can ever forget. He knows exactly all that
belongs to the daily life of a child, not only because He is
God and knows everything, but because He was once a child
Himself, and remembers all the joys and sorrows of His
child-life in the cottage at Nazareth; and so children are very
dear to Him--He listens to their prayers, accepts their
praises, and watches over them always. Remember, my darling,
that He is your best friend; to Him you may tell all your
little troubles and confess all your faults, for He is very
pitiful and of tender mercy.

I gave my school-girls a box of dominoes and a set of
draughtsmen with a board for their Christmas present. They play
very well. All the sewing-class boys, too, had each a
present--either a knife, or belt, or box or basket to keep
their treasures in, or a head-handkerchief; but the Sarawak
bazaar does not furnish many desirable things, even for
school-boys. H.M.S. _Renard_ has arrived since I wrote thus
far, and we have had the boat races, which always take place in
January. Eleven of our school-boys won the boys' race, pulling
against Inchi Boyangs' school, the Mahometan school, and some
other boats. We dressed our boys in white and blue, and they
pulled beautifully. Papa had taught them to pull all together,
when they went to mission stations with him, and they are
really good paddlers. They disdained the short course marked
out for the boys, and pulled all the way out to the
winning-post, a boat anchored near the wharf, round it, and
back again, winning by two boats' lengths. They won five
dollars, and papa added two more; they gave some of the money
to their school-fellows, and celebrated their victory by
singing all the evening so nicely, and hurrahing at the end of
each song. They are good boys, and much happiness to us.
Good-bye.