PERSECUTIONS
Once more Miss Tucker settled down in Batala—for life! She would only leave the place again for her short and well-earned holidays; and at the last for her passing away.
During many years her home was still to be in the quaint1 old palace, described by others as draughty, weird2, forlorn, desolate3; though she herself so resolutely4 looked upon the discomforts5 of the old building through rose-tinted glasses. But its dreary6 aspect was soon to be changed. The bright faces of Panjabi lads, the merry voices of Panjabi scholars, were to fill with fresh life those big and empty rooms. ‘The Baring High School,’ as it was called, had its first existence in the shape of a small boarding-school at Amritsar, which Mr. Baring decided7 to remove to the palace at Batala. About fifteen boys were, in the beginning, at Anarkalli,—described by A. L. O. E. as ‘our choicest young Natives, converts or descendants of converts; one is the grandson of a martyr8!’ These boys or their friends paid fees, when they could, which was not always; and the fees, though perhaps sufficient to cover their food, were by no means sufficient to cover the cost of a good education.
From the spring of 1878 Mr. Baring resided there, as C.M.S. Honorary Missionary9, with control of the Boys’ School, which indeed had been started mainly at his own[283] expense; while Babu Singha worked under him as the Master of the School. Miss Tucker, as she stated in her letters, held no such post as that of Matron. Her position was entirely10 independent, being that of Honorary Zenana Missionary. She paid for her own rooms and her own board in the Palace, and regarded Zenana visiting, and the writing of small books for Indian readers, as her prime occupations. But for Charlotte Tucker to live under the same roof with all those boys, and not to give them loving interest, not to attempt to teach or influence them, would have been a sheer impossibility.
Another Boys’ School had been started in Batala, which must not be confounded with the above. The Baring High School was—and is—distinctly for the education of Indian Christian12 boys. The Mission School, known later as ‘The Plough,’—Miss Tucker recognising strongly that this early stage of work in Batala could only be compared to a farmer’s ploughing of his fields,—was for Indian boys, not yet Christian. They received Christian teaching; and when a boy in the Plough School became a convert, he was passed on usually to the High School. The very starting of this ‘Plough School’ was due to Miss Tucker’s liberality. Out of her own purse she generously paid the main part of its expenses.
We must turn again to her letters, with all their curiously13 fresh, young eagerness and enjoyment14, to realise what her life was at this time. Charlotte Tucker might call herself ‘old,’—she was very fond of doing so on every possible occasion; but certainly none of the weight of age had as yet descended15 upon her spirits.
TO SIR W. HILL.[79]
‘Batala, April 13, 1878.
‘We hope next Sunday to have a Baptism in our lovely little lake; and we have been practising baptismal hymns16 to sing on the joyful[284] occasion. We had some anxiety about our young convert.... He went to Amritsar on business; and at the time when we expected his return he did not come back.
‘What could have happened? Had the dear youth been seized by his Muhammadan relations? Such things do happen; the danger is a very real one. It is often no easy matter to confess Christ in India. Mr. B., who was here, wrote off a note to a Christian Maulvi in Amritsar to search for the lad. He did so, and found him, and brought him here in safety last night; but not before —— had had a painful time of it in Amritsar.
‘I looked with interest on that Christian Maulvi, as he sat in our drawing-room, conversing17 with the English Missionaries18.... He has known well enough to what dangers a convert may be exposed; for he has experienced them.... He was the first of his family to take up the Cross. His Muhammadan neighbours formed the fiendish design of burning him alive in his house. They piled up his clothes, etc., in an under room. He was sleeping above. The Muhammadans set fire to the pile; and the clothes, etc., were quickly consumed; but the fire did not, as was intended, set the whole house in a blaze. The ceiling was charred19; that was all; and the Christian slept unharmed, watched over by the Eye that never slumbers20 nor sleeps.’
About this time A. L. O. E. wrote home to another quarter:—
‘Yesterday a letter arrived from the schoolmaster of O—— with tidings that a lad of fifteen has had the courage to declare to his friends his desire to become a Christian. The natural result of such a declaration has followed,—the young confessor has been beaten. It is no small matter to stand up thus openly for Christ in a heathen village. The lad may have to endure much. I have seen one who was made to stand in boiling oil by his own father, to hinder him from going to the Christians21. Whether the O—— boy’s conversion22 has been the result of the Good Friday expedition we know not; but whether it be so or not, the lad claims our sympathy and interest. We shall try to bring him here, to the Batala Boarding-School, where he may at least receive food and protection. “It is a refuge,” said our Christian Maulvi to me yesterday, glancing up at the goodly building raised by the Maharajah Shere Singh, who little dreamed that he was preparing in it a home for a Christian Natives’ Boarding-School, and also for the ladies of a Zenana Mission. I am at present the sole English Agent of the latter Society here.’
[285]
TO MRS. E——.
‘May 10, 1878.
‘You may like to hear a little more about our School of young Panjabis, as it is rather a curiosity.
‘My nephew, Mr. Baring, has succeeded in making these young Natives like not only cricket, but gardening. We are to have a Horticultural Exhibition in August, when prizes are to be given for the best flowers and fruit. Considering that the gardens are all on ground redeemed23 from the lake this year, it will hardly be expected that the show will equal one in the Botanical Gardens. But oh, you should see our glorious pink water-lilies! They grow wild in the water, and would be a sight anywhere.
‘I want the boys also to take to intellectual games. I am much pleased at having succeeded in making one nice lad compose two Sunday enigmas24. I by no means despise this small beginning of authorship. Sunday enigmas greatly increase knowledge of Scripture25, and also help to make the holy day pass pleasantly. There is a great deal of singing here also; and such a lovely text for our Chapel26 wall is now almost ready.... Our dear lads cannot, as —— did, give a beautiful pulpit, but I think that they take a pride and pleasure in their Chapel.
‘It will look rather pretty, I hope, with its white walls, and striped pardahs of red and white, and the pretty blue ecclesiastical-looking carpet which is promised for it. A Baptismal Register Book is ordered. I want a large one! God grant that it may fill up rapidly. We shall require a cemetery27 too, and have rather set our hearts on a pretty mango tope[80] at a suitable distance from, but not quite in sight of, the house.’
‘Batala; my beloved Laura’s Birthday, May 20, 1878.
‘On this day of all days in the year I could not but write to my own precious sister, even if I had not such a nice, long, interesting letter to thank her for, as I received yesterday....
‘Like you, I earnestly hope that the Almighty28 will preserve our dear land from the fearful evil of war. You and I would scarcely now care to sing—
‘“In the proud battle-fields
Bounding with glee.”
‘How little realisation the juvenile29 writer had of what war is!...[286] We are in another kind of warfare30 here. This living in the First Century, instead of the Nineteenth, seems to give a more vivid colour to life. I suspect that I should find some Missionary stations so dull after one like this! Such as those where year after year passes without an adult baptism being witnessed,—hardly expected,—perhaps in some instances hardly hoped for!... The fact is that it needs some moral courage in the Missionary, as well as all sorts of courage in the Convert, to face the storm that may follow a baptism.
‘One feels almost ashamed of remaining in such perfect security,[81] when encouraging a poor brown brother or sister to go up, as it were, to the cannon’s mouth. I was thinking to-day what would be the most painful sacrifice which one could make. It seemed to me that of the love and esteem31 of all our dear ones. And that is just the sacrifice which some of our brethren have to make! No wonder that they hesitate, weep, shrink from the flood of sorrow before them; but the true-hearted ones make the plunge32 at last. “The love of Christ constraineth.”
‘The enclosed to —— will give you an idea of some people’s trials; but ever and anon new cases seem to crop up. I expect that our fair Batala will be a kind of harbour of refuge to hunted ones. Mera Bhatija has been telling me that a Missionary—I forget where—is about to have a Baptism, and wants to send the new Christian over to us for a week, to let the storm blow over a little. Another lad was all packed ready to come, but he was caught. He means to take the opportunity of escaping when he can....
‘Mera Bhatija and I are curious to see the Rainbow glass. Perhaps, if it be small, I may show it off in the Zenanas. New and curious things give much pleasure. From a little round pin-cushion of mine the pretty glass picture of a Cathedral came off. I often take it with me, and show it, and say, “This is an English Church, in which God is praised every day!” Mere33 prints do not take with the Natives. They like coloured things that glitter.’
TO MRS. J. BOSWELL.
‘May 21, 1878.
‘It is wonderful to me how an English lady can go without fear or danger all about Batala, meeting with so much respect and courtesy. I do not feel it the slightest risk. Into narrow lanes, up dark staircases,—amongst women, amongst men,—I go without the smallest[287] excuse for being alarmed. The people, too, generally listen very quietly, though what is said may be dead against their views. I make the slender concession34 of calling Muhammad “Mr. Muhammad”—“Muhammad Sahib”—but no one could object to so common a title. He is never called “Hasrat”—Saint—like Moses and David.’
TO THE SAME.
‘May 29, 1878.
‘Three new boys have arrived to-day. I am glad that they did not come till I had pretty well learned up the first seventeen, tacking35 the right names to the right faces. It took me a good while to do this, for I have a difficulty in remembering faces....
‘The Natives who send their boys to this upper-class school are of course anxious that the lads should be good English scholars. At this time of high-pressure education it is necessary that they should be so. Mr. Baring drudges36 day after day at the English classes; but it occurred to me that I could give a little help in play-hours. I have written an English charade37 for our young Panjabis to recite; and the idea has, I think, taken with them. It needed a little management to give a separate part to every one of seventeen boys, apportioning38 it to the individual’s capacity. Pretty little P. (five years) could not be expected to manage more than a line and a half; but it would never have done to have left him out. Into each of the three divisions of the charade I have introduced a lively chorus, in which all can join. The song that takes most is—
‘“I am a brisk and sprightly39 lad,
But newly come from sea, sir!”
‘This is rather curious, as none of our Punjabis have ever seen the sea. The chorus will be first-rate practice for rapid, clear pronunciation; for
‘“When the boatswain pipes ‘All hands aloft!’”
would not be an easy line even for some English boys. If the lads manage tolerably well, the charade will be great fun. Who would ever have dreamt that part of a Missionary’s work should be to set boys to learn a lively charade!
‘I pity the City boys. I suspect that there is a sort of wistful longing40 raised in many a young heart, “I wish I were one of those Christian boys!” If there could be a blind ballot41 of Batala boys, as to whether the whole town should become Christian, I am by no means sure whether the votes would not be in our favour. I do not[288] mean that the poor, dear lads are converts, but that they use their eyes and ears,—and think that ours must be a very pleasant, genial42 kind of religion, connected in some sort of way with singing, and cricket, and kindness.’
Another short English play, written by Miss Tucker for the boys, was called The Bee and the Butterfly. Miss Mulvany, a Missionary, went one day, somewhere about this time, to Batala for a few hours; and in the course of her visit she was sent upstairs, while Charlotte Tucker gave the boys a lesson in acting43 the said little play. Miss Mulvany has never lost the impression made upon her by the peals44 and shouts of laughter which came up from the merry company below.
TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘June 19, 1878.
‘I am reading the Granth,[82] the sacred book of the Sikhs. Like the Koran, it is very long,—I think more than 600 quarto pages,—and with an immense deal of repetition in it. But it leaves on the mind a very different impression from the Koran. As far as I have read, it is wonderfully pure and spiritual. If you could substitute the name “Almighty” for “Hari,” and “Lord Jesus” for “Guru,”[83] it might almost seem the composition of hermits46 in the early centuries, except that celibacy47 is not enjoined48. Woman seems to be given her proper place. Many exhortations49 are addressed to women....
‘There is something touching50 in the longing—the yearning—after God,—the intense love of His Name! The Sikh idea of God is not that of the Hindus, with their fiend-like deities51. The Creator is light, and goodness, and happiness. There is indeed the ridiculous idea of people having to pass through 840,000 states of existence,—unless the probation52 be shortened by meditation53, purity, and the repetition of God’s name,—but this fearful number of births is regarded as very tiresome54 indeed.
‘One might call the Granth “the book of yearning,” and I feel humiliated55 that I, with Gospel light, should in spiritual contemplation and longing for closest communion with the Deity56 come so far behind these poor Sikhs. Unfortunately, the Sikh religion has been so much corrupted57 that it is almost dying out. I suppose that[289] it was too pure to please the Enemy; he knew that the Granth would offer no strong opposition58 to the Bible. Here, in Batala, his stronghold seems to me to be Muhammadanism. It shocks me to find how that invention of Satan darkens the moral sense. What would be thought sin in another, is by some openly defended as no sin if committed by Muhammad!!
‘The Muhammadans too are so ready to stand up for their false faith; far more inclined to defend it than the Hindus are to defend theirs. Mera Bhatija was saying to-day that no book has been written against Christianity by a Hindu. I have myself, however, seen a very bitter article in a paper. But, generally speaking, the Muhammadans seem to be much sterner opponents of Truth than the Hindus. I feel it in the Zenanas.
‘Now, my own Laura, I am going to my long task of reading the Granth. It puts me on vantage-ground when I can tell the Natives that I have read their Scriptures59.’
The High School was not to have broken up before the middle of August; but circumstances caused Mr. Baring to fix upon a fortnight earlier, and this decided Miss Tucker to go to Amritsar on July 28. She at once planned that two of the hard-worked ladies at the Mission bungalow60 should then take their holiday, while she remained as a companion to the third. It does not appear that she had any idea of the Hills for herself. No doubt the change to Amritsar would mean pleasure, if not rest; and she was still able to speak of herself as ‘wonderfully well’; but the unselfish thought for every one else, rather than of her own needs, is not the less remarkable61.
To one of her correspondents she wrote from Batala on the 6th of July: ‘You know that I am the only Englishwoman within twenty miles. Now and then friends pass a night here; but in the hot weather not often.... The 29th will, if I stay till then, complete sixteen weeks of steady residence, during which I have only twice seen English ladies,—for less than twenty-four hours. I doubt whether any European has ever stopped in Batala so long before without a single night’s absence.... Once from[290] Friday evening to Monday morning I saw no white face. There is a nice brown lady in the house.’[84]
At Amritsar she found herself as usual in the midst of engrossing62 interests. Fresh Baptisms were taking place; and about these she wrote to Mrs. Hamilton on the 21st of August, describing one just past:—
‘There was a sweet-looking woman, D., a convert from Hinduism, and her two dear little girls. Her husband, who is not brave enough, or perhaps not sufficiently63 led towards Christianity, to follow her example, saw her depart for church. “You know that she is going to be baptized,” said Emily. “Yes, yes,” was the reply. “You must be kind to her, and receive her back.” The man made no objection,—even to his two children being baptized; though he had formerly64 put obstacles in the way. There was a fourth, a convert from Muhammadanism, T., whose baptism was the most interesting of all.... The clergyman subjected the poor girl to the ordeal65 of a severe examination. She had never probably spoken to an Englishman before; and it would have been no wonder had she flinched66 or faltered67. But she, who has already been beaten at home for Christ’s sake, showed no sign of weakness. Her answers came clear and firm. “Is it because of Miss Wauton’s speaking that you come?” “No, it is because of my heart’s speaking.”
‘The miseries68 and persecutions that may be coming upon her were almost, I think, too faithfully set before her. “If they were even to kill me, as they did M.’s father, what fear?” said the dauntless girl....
‘I remarked to ——, on my return from the baptism, that I thought that the Indian women were braver than the men. He quite agreed; he knows that he dare not come forward like D. and T. Our noble N. is, we believe, a Christian at heart, and we know other men of whom we think that the same might be said, but they linger and linger, and dare not yet ask for baptism. Here this year in Amritsar we have had five women, and last year two, who, in the face of what we might have considered almost insurmountable obstacles, have bravely confessed Christ in baptism. It must be much harder for them than for the men, but they seem to have more courage, or more faith.’
Several weeks later another reference in home-letters is[291] found to the brave girl, mentioned above: ‘By last accounts dear T. is holding out nobly. We are not allowed to see her; but I hear that one or more Maulvis[85] have been brought to try to argue the young maiden69 out of her faith. But she tells them that they may read to her all day long, but they never will change her. They say that Christianity is ‘written on her heart,’—what a testimony70 from Muhammadans!—and that the ladies must have bewitched her. It reminds me of Lady Jane Grey in prison; for dear T. is a prisoner.’
Plans did not fit in as Miss Tucker had intended. Once more she found herself called upon to act escort to a sick Missionary, who had to go to the Hills, and was not well enough to travel alone. Miss Wauton could not just then be spared from Amritsar, and she appealed to the ‘Auntie,’ whose readiness to help in any emergency was by this time well understood. ‘It seems as if by some fatality71 I must go each year to Dalhousie,’ Charlotte Tucker said in one letter, adding, ‘But I hope to return back in a few days.’ Then, in allusion72 to a scheme that she should join her nephew at Murree in September, ‘I do not propose staying long. After sixteen weeks of unbroken residence at Batala, behold73 me rushing up and down hills like a comet.’
TO MISS L.V. TUCKER.
‘Aug. 14, 1878.
‘We are to have a Confirmation74 here on the 3rd of November. I should be much tempted75 to come up from Batala to witness it, particularly if any Batala Christians are confirmed. I am afraid that ——‘s wife will shrink from breaking pardah,—that nonsensical pardah, which is a real snare76 to some baptized bibis.... There is one dear baptized young bride in Batala, whom I have not seen, but hope to search out on my return. The brave girl dared to be baptized in Amritsar, but was then carried off by her husband to Batala, and[292] we know not in what part she is. She is likely to be having a hard time of it, but it is quite right in her to be with her husband....’
Writing home, she described drolly77 her absence from Batala as—‘this strange episode of my life;—seven weeks acting Superintendent78 of the Orphanage,—three of those weeks sole Missionary at Amritsar,—and—oh, bathos! ten days an ayah—for I had none other.’ Still her health seemed to keep good. She could stand the plains in hot weather as scarcely another Missionary was able to do. While one and another broke down, and had to be off to the Hills, Miss Tucker kept about, much the same as usual, filling up as far as possible the gaps left by others.
She was full of ardent79 sympathy at this time for certain converts from Muhammadanism, undergoing severe persecutions, and was much distressed80 at the difficulty of doing anything for them. She even formed a daring plan for carrying off one brave young girl from her relatives, and taking her to a safe distance; and Miss Tucker was with difficulty dissuaded81 from a scheme which others of longer experience knew too well might lead to serious complications.
Another, a wife, and also her daughter, were at this time in frequent peril82, because they had become Christians in heart, and were earnestly desiring Baptism. The husband, a Muhammadan, would sometimes sit between the two, sharpening a knife, and threatening to stab them. Once he violently seized the daughter by her throat. Life with them must have been one long unhappiness; yet Miss Tucker, after an interview with the poor wife, could describe her as looking ‘worn, but so bright and brave.’
In September she was at Murree, helping83 to nurse her niece, and to take care of the tiny baby,—which latter occupation, she wrote, was ‘more formidable to an old maiden Aunt than conversing in Urdu with a learned Maulvi, or doing the agreeable to a Rajah, would be.’
[293]
Of the place itself she said: ‘Murree is not a cheering place to a Missionary.... One sees numbers of Natives; but how is one to tell the glad tidings? I feel like a doctor with multitudes of sick around him,—and he cannot get at his medicine-chest. I have brought Urdu religious books; I find no good opportunity of giving even one away.’
October saw her once more in the spot where she loved to be, writing joyously84 home—
‘Here I am, in my own Station again, and glad to be back. I find that our little Christian flock has been increasing in a very encouraging way during my absence. There was a nice little round of visits to pay to Christian families.[86] Those who had been last baptized I had never seen before to my knowledge. A man of some forty or fifty years of age, employed in the Government ——, who has been thinking on the subject of religion for about nine years. For about two years he has been going to some quiet place, when he had leisure, to weep and pray. He appears now to be a very earnest and bold Christian. At his own desire he was baptized in the middle of the city, in a room set apart in the school.’
Very soon after Miss Tucker’s return came the death of a little Christian Native baby; and the quiet Christian funeral was in marked contrast with the wild wailings usual at Muhammadan funerals,—though some Muhammadan lamentings were heard from one visitor present.
‘We decked the little sleeping form with flowers; a rose was placed in each hand, a fragrant85 white Cross on the breast.... I attended the funeral; so did a good band of Native Christians, including our schoolboys. The cemetery was a Muhammadan one. We must buy one for ourselves, as we are, thank God, a growing body. I hope that in another month we may number fifty baptized persons in Batala; and I have lately been writing out the heading for a Subscription86 for a Church at our dear Batala. We have now only schoolrooms turned into Chapels87. My list is to lie on our table for visitors to see. Perhaps it will be one or two years before we have collected enough; and by that time, please God, the flock may have doubled or quadrupled.
[294]
‘It will be so—and more—if we go on at the rate at which the Church has been growing. The bringing the Boys’ School here has been a grand thing. The dear fellows, on the whole, set such a nice example, and they seem so happy.
‘Nov. 4, 1878.—I have come to Amritsar for a few days, for the Confirmation, and had the pleasure of receiving your dear letter of October 1st yesterday.... How can beloved St. George send me such bad advice? I like his example better than his counsel. What did he do in time of trouble? Stick to his post like a Tucker! Those of our Missionary family, with whom I have spoken on the subject,[87] all agree with me that we should never desert our flocks. What sort of army would that be, in which all the officers ran away at sight of an enemy?... But take no thought about me, dear one. Unless we meet with serious reverses in Afghanistan, I do not see danger of a rising, especially in the Panjab, where, on the whole, I think that we are considered tolerable rulers.
‘And if there were troubles, I suspect that we Missionaries would run a better chance than other Europeans, we have such numbers of friends amongst the heathen.... Just fancy—our Bible-woman and her husband are actually collecting money from Hindus and Muhammadans for our Church! A poor woman gave some barley88. If you were to hear all the polite little speeches, and see all the smiles that pass between Missionary and Natives, you would not expect us to be afraid. A Missionary in any case should have nothing to do with fear,—it is dishonouring89 to the Master.
‘My love, how can you think of sending me another dress for winter? Do you think me so careless and extravagant90 as to have worn out the graceful91 Grey already? I never take it into a duli; I keep my faithful Green for such rough work. But if a new winter dress is actually in hand, let me send you even before seeing it a thousand thanks for it.’
FROM AN INDIAN CHRISTIAN, CONVERT FROM MUHAMMADANISM, 1878
‘My dear Miss Tucker,—I received your kind letter, dated 13th instant, and the newspaper yesterday. I am very thankful to you. I read it many times, and it truly made me brave. I like the piece of poetry you quoted very much. Every day I pray to God to lead me in the right way. I think my prayer is heard, for I do not feel so lonely as I did at first; but I get fever nearly every day. I[295] had gone over to Lahore on Friday, and stayed there for Saturday and Sunday.... I remember you in my prayers, and I hope you do the same. Now I will not feel lonely. Please do not be anxious....’
C. M. T. TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘Nov. 8.—If I were not a Mission Miss Sahiba, who should never complain, I might give a groan92 or a grumble93 to the mice and rats. They get into my almira, and what is even worse, into my harmonium. I had a tin plate made for the pedal part, expressly to keep creatures out; but they managed to pass it. I have now had a second large one made, and hope that it may prove more effectual. The creatures have bitten almost all the red Persian away; to-day I found lumps of wadding in my harmonium. “How could they have come there?” I asked of my sharp kahar, V. I suspected the rats, but did not know where they could have got the wadding from,—when V. suggested the beautiful padded cover of my harmonium. Sure enough, the rogues94 had bitten holes in that, and pulled out wadding to stuff into my harmonium, doubtless to make a comfortable nest for a family of young mice or rats. I tried a Batala trap; it was of no use: I have bought an Amritsar one, and Mera Bhatija has bought another; but the rats, I fear, will not be much thinned in numbers. We try to get a weasel, but have not succeeded yet. But things might have been much worse. The rats never try to eat us!’
‘Nov. 14.—I do not think that I told you of two Christian fakirs, to whom I was introduced at Amritsar. They were very badly clothed, fakir-like, but—especially one of them—had pleasing, sensible faces. I suppose that they wander about, and lead a kind of John the Baptist life. How curious such a style of Christian would appear in old England!’
‘Nov. 20.—I have been wanting—wanting—my English letters, expecting them these four days. At last here they are, and such nice dear ones....
‘I shall much like to hear what you think of my sweet Margaret. I doubt whether she will be in good looks, she has been so sorely tried by her dear Mother’s illness, and the struggle in her own mind,—longing to come to our help, yet unable to do so! I feel for her.
‘I think that dear Emily benefited little or not at all by her trip to the Hills. She ought to go home in the spring,—after more than six years’ work,—so ought Miss Fuller; but neither can leave till they fairly break down; for there is no one to take their place....
[296]
‘You think, love, that by September 4th “the most dangerous season was over.” Far from it! September is, I think, the most dangerous month in all the year in the Panjab. Very hot, and full of fever. My hardest pull up-hill since I came to India was, I think, in September. You have had the heat then for so long, you have less vigour95, and the air is so unwholesome. Sickness all around.
‘How good you are to send me another dress! My graceful Grey still looks very well. I consider it rather a company dress, and have my Green for the Zenanas, which are sometimes so dirty! I am wearing it now, for the weather is becoming very cold. It is rather amusing to see our Panjabis come in for Morning Prayers, about sunrise on a sharp morning. There is P. with a red comforter round head and neck; J. is wrapped in his white blanket. Poor Babu Singha, with a cold of course, is wondering how the big room below is ever to be kept warm. Mera Bhatija and I are going to change our drawing-room. The northern room is far the best in summer; but in winter we escape to the southern, and what was our guest-room becomes our sitting-room96. There is actually a fireplace in it!—and the sunbeams stream in....
‘Instead of spending the long winter evenings in solitary97 grandeur98 upstairs, I now come down and make one of the cheerful party in the schoolroom. It is much less distracting to be amongst a score of boys than you would suppose. I and some of them have been trying the vitre-manie (?) for our Chapel-window. Yesterday I brought down my chess-board and challenged the boys, and fought P., R., and I. C., one after the other....
‘On Sunday evening we sing hymns for ever so long together, just like one huge family. The boys never seem to quarrel, or say one spiteful word of each other. We have just had two new boys; one is an Afghan; so we shall have the sons of Christian, Muhammadan, Hindu, and Afghan, (by race,) parents all together.’
TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.
‘Dec. 13, 1878.
‘This evening as Mera Bhatija has gone to Amritsar, I asked three of our lads to tea.... After tea I taught the lads “Cross Questions and Crooked99 Answers,” and showed them my splendid bubbles and my chatelaine, which were greatly admired, and my photograph-book, a great treasure to me. But what gave perhaps more amusement than anything was the Beaconsfield handkerchief. I was so glad to get some photos at last.... My visits in the[297] city were interesting. Dear B—n’s troubles have re-opened his mother’s Zenana to me. She even paid me a visit here. I do not see any inclination100 in her to become a Christian, however; she says that I shall go to Heaven my way, and she hers. I suggested the disagreeableness of 840,000 transmigrations; but she did not seem troubled. Perhaps she hopes that she has passed through a few hundreds of millions already.’
TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘Dec. 23, 1878.—“I shall go to rest to-night nestling under my Laura’s love, and I shall rise very early to thank her,” was my thought last night, as I got into my nice comfortable bed, with her soft, light, warm quilt above me. And here I am sitting by my blazing wood fire, long ere dawn, with that same quilt like a shawl round my shoulders,—so comfy! Luxurious101 Char11! But, after all, I have not begun my thanks, and where am I to end them?
‘Your wonderfully packed parcel reached me in perfect safety yesterday. It was something like a nut, for it was rather difficult to get at the kernel102. So much careful stitching by dear fingers. At last, however, the beautifully warm skirt and quilt, and most exquisite103 cards, were fully45 displayed to view. A thousand, thousand thanks! I have so many things, such goodly gifts, to remember my Laura by!...
‘Our Christmas festivities have already begun. Our house is pretty full with Native friends. Perhaps the most interesting is dear B., the once Muhammadan wife of a Christian Catechist, and mother of Christian children, who was so sturdily bigoted104 that she held out for thirteen years, before she would give herself to the Saviour105. But then she did so in her honest way. B. was never a hypocrite; we respected her when she vexed106 us. It was something for her to remain with her husband; for, by Muhammadan law, baptism of husband or wife constitutes divorce. Mera Bhatija told me of a curious case, which excited much interest,—to Europeans it would excite much surprise. A Muhammadan, who had, I suppose, read Christian books, was travelling with some other Muhammadans, and was imprudent enough to say that Muhammad wrought107 no miracles, and expressed doubts as to his being really a prophet. The poor man happened to have a rich wife, who, we may believe, did not care for him. To speak against the Prophet is enough to constitute a divorce! The companions of the man did not let their chance go of half ruining him. The case was brought into Court,[298] and an English judge was obliged to give a verdict against the unfortunate fellow, who had expressed an honest opinion. He lost his wife and her rich dowry....’
‘Amritsar, Dec. 28, 1878.—I am sitting with my sweet Laura’s delicious quilt wrapped closely round my shoulders, for it is warmer than a shawl; and I am up before the fire-lighting period. Not being at home, I do not know how to light the fire myself.
‘Our Christmas at Batala went off beautifully, and has, I think, left a feeling of thankfulness on both Mera Bhatija’s mind and my own. The following day we both came to Amritsar. Yesterday was the grand opening of the Alexandra School. Mr. Clark asked me to write an account of it for his report. I did not like the task; it makes one feel so penny-a-linerish; and one is afraid of writing to please this or that person, etc.; but I could not well refuse, so I have been scribbling108 something in pencil in the cold, which I mean to submit to dear Emily’s criticism....
‘Oh, I must tell you what a boon109 your Beaconsfield handkerchief is! It gave much amusement at Batala, both to Europeans and Natives; it is giving much here at Amritsar. I am engaged to dine with the Clarks this evening; so I dare say that the good Bishop110, Archdeacon, and all will have a laugh over my puzzle. On Monday I am to go to Lahore, and sleep a night at Government House. I mean to take my handkerchief with me....
‘Batala will present rather a contrast to bustling111 Amritsar and Lahore. When I return, there will probably be no European but myself there for days, as Mera Bhatija must be absent at the Conference till the 6th.’
So ended the third year of Miss Tucker’s life in India. She had now thoroughly112 settled down to her own especial work in Batala.
点击收听单词发音
1 quaint | |
adj.古雅的,离奇有趣的,奇怪的 | |
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2 weird | |
adj.古怪的,离奇的;怪诞的,神秘而可怕的 | |
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3 desolate | |
adj.荒凉的,荒芜的;孤独的,凄凉的;v.使荒芜,使孤寂 | |
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4 resolutely | |
adj.坚决地,果断地 | |
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5 discomforts | |
n.不舒适( discomfort的名词复数 );不愉快,苦恼 | |
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6 dreary | |
adj.令人沮丧的,沉闷的,单调乏味的 | |
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7 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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8 martyr | |
n.烈士,殉难者;vt.杀害,折磨,牺牲 | |
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9 missionary | |
adj.教会的,传教(士)的;n.传教士 | |
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10 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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11 char | |
v.烧焦;使...燃烧成焦炭 | |
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12 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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13 curiously | |
adv.有求知欲地;好问地;奇特地 | |
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14 enjoyment | |
n.乐趣;享有;享用 | |
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15 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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16 hymns | |
n.赞美诗,圣歌,颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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17 conversing | |
v.交谈,谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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18 missionaries | |
n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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19 charred | |
v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式);烧焦 | |
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20 slumbers | |
睡眠,安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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21 Christians | |
n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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22 conversion | |
n.转化,转换,转变 | |
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23 redeemed | |
adj. 可赎回的,可救赎的 动词redeem的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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24 enigmas | |
n.难于理解的问题、人、物、情况等,奥秘( enigma的名词复数 ) | |
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25 scripture | |
n.经文,圣书,手稿;Scripture:(常用复数)《圣经》,《圣经》中的一段 | |
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26 chapel | |
n.小教堂,殡仪馆 | |
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27 cemetery | |
n.坟墓,墓地,坟场 | |
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28 almighty | |
adj.全能的,万能的;很大的,很强的 | |
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29 juvenile | |
n.青少年,少年读物;adj.青少年的,幼稚的 | |
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30 warfare | |
n.战争(状态);斗争;冲突 | |
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31 esteem | |
n.尊敬,尊重;vt.尊重,敬重;把…看作 | |
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32 plunge | |
v.跳入,(使)投入,(使)陷入;猛冲 | |
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33 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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34 concession | |
n.让步,妥协;特许(权) | |
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35 tacking | |
(帆船)抢风行驶,定位焊[铆]紧钉 | |
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36 drudges | |
n.做苦工的人,劳碌的人( drudge的名词复数 ) | |
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37 charade | |
n.用动作等表演文字意义的字谜游戏 | |
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38 apportioning | |
vt.分摊,分配(apportion的现在分词形式) | |
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39 sprightly | |
adj.愉快的,活泼的 | |
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40 longing | |
n.(for)渴望 | |
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41 ballot | |
n.(不记名)投票,投票总数,投票权;vi.投票 | |
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42 genial | |
adj.亲切的,和蔼的,愉快的,脾气好的 | |
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43 acting | |
n.演戏,行为,假装;adj.代理的,临时的,演出用的 | |
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44 peals | |
n.(声音大而持续或重复的)洪亮的响声( peal的名词复数 );隆隆声;洪亮的钟声;钟乐v.(使)(钟等)鸣响,(雷等)发出隆隆声( peal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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45 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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46 hermits | |
(尤指早期基督教的)隐居修道士,隐士,遁世者( hermit的名词复数 ) | |
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47 celibacy | |
n.独身(主义) | |
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48 enjoined | |
v.命令( enjoin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49 exhortations | |
n.敦促( exhortation的名词复数 );极力推荐;(正式的)演讲;(宗教仪式中的)劝诫 | |
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50 touching | |
adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
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51 deities | |
n.神,女神( deity的名词复数 );神祗;神灵;神明 | |
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52 probation | |
n.缓刑(期),(以观后效的)察看;试用(期) | |
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53 meditation | |
n.熟虑,(尤指宗教的)默想,沉思,(pl.)冥想录 | |
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54 tiresome | |
adj.令人疲劳的,令人厌倦的 | |
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55 humiliated | |
感到羞愧的 | |
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56 deity | |
n.神,神性;被奉若神明的人(或物) | |
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57 corrupted | |
(使)败坏( corrupt的过去式和过去分词 ); (使)腐化; 引起(计算机文件等的)错误; 破坏 | |
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58 opposition | |
n.反对,敌对 | |
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59 scriptures | |
经文,圣典( scripture的名词复数 ); 经典 | |
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60 bungalow | |
n.平房,周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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61 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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62 engrossing | |
adj.使人全神贯注的,引人入胜的v.使全神贯注( engross的现在分词 ) | |
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63 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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64 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
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65 ordeal | |
n.苦难经历,(尤指对品格、耐力的)严峻考验 | |
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66 flinched | |
v.(因危险和痛苦)退缩,畏惧( flinch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67 faltered | |
(嗓音)颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 ); 支吾其词; 蹒跚; 摇晃 | |
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68 miseries | |
n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 );痛苦的事;穷困;常发牢骚的人 | |
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69 maiden | |
n.少女,处女;adj.未婚的,纯洁的,无经验的 | |
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70 testimony | |
n.证词;见证,证明 | |
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71 fatality | |
n.不幸,灾祸,天命 | |
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72 allusion | |
n.暗示,间接提示 | |
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73 behold | |
v.看,注视,看到 | |
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74 confirmation | |
n.证实,确认,批准 | |
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75 tempted | |
v.怂恿(某人)干不正当的事;冒…的险(tempt的过去分词) | |
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76 snare | |
n.陷阱,诱惑,圈套;(去除息肉或者肿瘤的)勒除器;响弦,小军鼓;vt.以陷阱捕获,诱惑 | |
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77 drolly | |
adv.古里古怪地;滑稽地;幽默地;诙谐地 | |
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78 superintendent | |
n.监督人,主管,总监;(英国)警务长 | |
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79 ardent | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,强烈的,烈性的 | |
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80 distressed | |
痛苦的 | |
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81 dissuaded | |
劝(某人)勿做某事,劝阻( dissuade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82 peril | |
n.(严重的)危险;危险的事物 | |
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83 helping | |
n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的,辅助的 | |
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84 joyously | |
ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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85 fragrant | |
adj.芬香的,馥郁的,愉快的 | |
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86 subscription | |
n.预订,预订费,亲笔签名,调配法,下标(处方) | |
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87 chapels | |
n.小教堂, (医院、监狱等的)附属礼拜堂( chapel的名词复数 );(在小教堂和附属礼拜堂举行的)礼拜仪式 | |
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88 barley | |
n.大麦,大麦粒 | |
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89 dishonouring | |
使(人、家族等)丧失名誉(dishonour的现在分词形式) | |
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90 extravagant | |
adj.奢侈的;过分的;(言行等)放肆的 | |
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91 graceful | |
adj.优美的,优雅的;得体的 | |
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92 groan | |
vi./n.呻吟,抱怨;(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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93 grumble | |
vi.抱怨;咕哝;n.抱怨,牢骚;咕哝,隆隆声 | |
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94 rogues | |
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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95 vigour | |
(=vigor)n.智力,体力,精力 | |
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96 sitting-room | |
n.(BrE)客厅,起居室 | |
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97 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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98 grandeur | |
n.伟大,崇高,宏伟,庄严,豪华 | |
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99 crooked | |
adj.弯曲的;不诚实的,狡猾的,不正当的 | |
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100 inclination | |
n.倾斜;点头;弯腰;斜坡;倾度;倾向;爱好 | |
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101 luxurious | |
adj.精美而昂贵的;豪华的 | |
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102 kernel | |
n.(果实的)核,仁;(问题)的中心,核心 | |
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103 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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104 bigoted | |
adj.固执己见的,心胸狭窄的 | |
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105 saviour | |
n.拯救者,救星 | |
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106 vexed | |
adj.争论不休的;(指问题等)棘手的;争论不休的问题;烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 );使苦恼;使生气;详细讨论 | |
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107 wrought | |
v.引起;以…原料制作;运转;adj.制造的 | |
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108 scribbling | |
n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 );乱画;草草地写;匆匆记下 | |
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109 boon | |
n.恩赐,恩物,恩惠 | |
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110 bishop | |
n.主教,(国际象棋)象 | |
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111 bustling | |
adj.喧闹的 | |
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112 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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