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 Missionary2 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 perseveringly4, in preparation for fuller work, often lamenting5 her own slowness in learning to speak; and already she was making herself known and beloved by a few Indians,—either Christian6, or disposed towards Christianity.
After her return from Dalhousie she wrote in joyous7 strains: ‘Here I am at dear Amritsar again, which I much prefer to the abode8 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 perfectly9 willing to do so, without hesitation10 on the score of fatigue11, 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 fully3 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.
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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 possessed12, in imagination, a jewelled bracelet13, representing the different Missionary gentlemen of her acquaintance,—Diamond, Opal, Amethyst14, 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 Christians15, 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 gems16. This is composed of dear ones in Old England; my own Laura being the Pearl nearest the heart.’
A more prosaic17 and less romantic nature can perhaps hardly understand, much less sympathise with, the delight afforded to her curiously18 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 inquiry19 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 opposition20 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 hindrance21 might intervene.
‘I had a kind of intuitive feeling,’ she said, ‘that something might come to prevent the Convert from openly[226] confessing his Lord. I knew not how great the danger was.’
One hour remained before the time fixed23 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 raved24 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 vehement25 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 conclusively26 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[227] 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 eldest27 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, emphatic28 warning against our ladies driving out at night. He uses sometimes almost frantic29 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 superstition30 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 generosity31.’
The name ‘Iman,’ meaning ‘Faith,’ was bestowed32 by Miss Tucker upon a poor pankah-wala, whose affectionate[228] disposition33 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 acting34 gradually in all directions.
In another letter, belonging to August, are the words: ‘We are rather on the tiptoe of expectation about our Bishop35 that is to be. There is a rumour36 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 utterly37 refused to allow the Christian Natives to be banished38 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 Bungalow39, to live at the neighbouring Orphan40 House, taking charge of the orphans41. A superintendent42 under her had hitherto done the work, but had proved inefficient43; 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 Missionaries44 wanted out there. This subject will recur45 from time to time in the course of[229] 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 Illustrated46. After it has been seen here, and at the Orphanage47, 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 bolstering48 form no bad preparation for Missionary life. Dash and energy and physical strength are very desirable. We want ladies who fear nothing, grumble49 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 hearty50, 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 influential51 position, and in Government employ. Dear Sadiq[45] and I believe other Christians went to Batala on[230] 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 varied52 music last night; but one does not mind them a bit, for they never seem to attack people, or intrude53 into houses. I wish that they would teach their good manners to the sparrows. The cheetah54 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 cheetahs55 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, bigoted56 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 remains57. We ought to pray earnestly for this our brother.’
In a letter to her niece, Mrs. Boswell, on September 1st, Charlotte Tucker spoke58 of herself as ‘heart-sick with anxiety’ about the convert, regretting much that he had not come to Amritsar.
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‘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 cholera59.
‘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 fiery60 furnace. How long can he hold out?’
Reports, happily false, of the retractation of the convert came to distress61 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 standing62 firm.
It is melancholy63 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 apostate64.
Letters at this time show her steadily65 growing interest in Batala, her ever-increasing desire for systematic66 work there.
‘Sept. 14, 1876.—I have been delaying writing till I could give you news from Batala,—that place towards which Missionary eyes longingly67 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[232] been appearing in the Family Treasury68.... 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 rogues71 of sparrows have fairly driven me out of my room this morning. They make such a chatter72. I intend to request Mr. H. benevolently73 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 squats74 in the verandah, is busy on a magnificent dressing-gown, which I have ordered. I brought out flannel75 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.
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‘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 reins76 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 Pastor77 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 subscription78 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, apathetic79 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 genders80 as well as I could.
‘I was determined81 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——,[234] 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 Char1, sitting at the head of a table, and entertaining a Pandit, and feeling her ignorance, and plunging82 about in a bog83 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 thither84 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 dak-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 procure85 a suitable house, etc., so it is likely enough that Sadiq’s plan will be disapproved86 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, bustling87 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 propriety88, 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[235] 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 rogue70, 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 discomfited89 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[236] 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 exempted90 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 alterations91 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 martyr69, 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 helping92 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 Advent93 in Amritsar. It will seem strange to reside in a place where there is no church![237] 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 peculiar94 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 wondrously95 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 followers96. They who came first would receive honour; they who came next, a mere97 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 Rev22. 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 delightful98 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 thoroughly99 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 specially100 fitted, by age, for the post, that if I were to draw back, the whole promising101 plan might fall to the ground. The Natives reverence102 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 lighter103 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.[238] 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.’
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| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
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14
amethyst
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| n.紫水晶 | |
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15
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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16
gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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18
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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19
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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20
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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21
hindrance
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| n.妨碍，障碍 | |
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22
rev
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| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
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23
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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raved
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| v.胡言乱语( rave的过去式和过去分词 )；愤怒地说；咆哮；痴心地说 | |
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25
vehement
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| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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conclusively
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| adv.令人信服地，确凿地 | |
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27
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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30
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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31
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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32
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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34
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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35
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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36
rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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37
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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38
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39
bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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40
orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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41
orphans
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| 孤儿( orphan的名词复数 ) | |
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42
superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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inefficient
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| adj.效率低的，无效的 | |
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44
missionaries
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| n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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45
recur
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| vi.复发，重现，再发生 | |
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46
illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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47
orphanage
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| n.孤儿院 | |
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48
bolstering
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| v.支持( bolster的现在分词 )；支撑；给予必要的支持；援助 | |
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49
grumble
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| vi.抱怨；咕哝；n.抱怨，牢骚；咕哝，隆隆声 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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51
influential
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| adj.有影响的，有权势的 | |
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52
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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53
intrude
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| vi.闯入；侵入；打扰，侵扰 | |
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54
cheetah
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| n.(动物)猎豹 | |
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cheetahs
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| n.（奔跑极快的）非洲猎豹( cheetah的名词复数 ) | |
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bigoted
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| adj.固执己见的，心胸狭窄的 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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58
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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59
cholera
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| n.霍乱 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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apostate
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| n.背叛者，变节者 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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systematic
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| adj.有系统的，有计划的，有方法的 | |
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longingly
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| adv. 渴望地 热望地 | |
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68
treasury
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| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
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martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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70
rogue
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| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
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71
rogues
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| n.流氓( rogue的名词复数 )；无赖；调皮捣蛋的人；离群的野兽 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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benevolently
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| adv.仁慈地，行善地 | |
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74
squats
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| n.蹲坐，蹲姿( squat的名词复数 )；被擅自占用的建筑物v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的第三人称单数 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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76
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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pastor
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| n.牧师，牧人 | |
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78
subscription
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| n.预订，预订费，亲笔签名，调配法，下标（处方） | |
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apathetic
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| adj.冷漠的，无动于衷的 | |
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80
genders
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| n.性某些语言的（阳性、阴性和中性，不同的性有不同的词尾等）( gender的名词复数 )；性别；某些语言的（名词、代词和形容词）性的区分 | |
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81
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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82
plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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83
bog
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| n.沼泽；室...陷入泥淖 | |
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84
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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85
procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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86
disapproved
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| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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88
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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89
discomfited
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| v.使为难( discomfit的过去式和过去分词)；使狼狈；使挫折；挫败 | |
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exempted
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| 使免除[豁免]( exempt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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91
alterations
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| n.改动( alteration的名词复数 )；更改；变化；改变 | |
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92
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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93
advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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94
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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wondrously
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| adv.惊奇地，非常，极其 | |
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96
followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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97
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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98
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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99
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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100
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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101
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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102
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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103
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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