‘This is a splendid room of mine ... about twenty-four feet each way, and so lofty. I am surprised at the elegance of these Indian bungalows. Please put from your mind all idea of hardship.[31] I have now lived in four bungalows, and all have elegant rooms, and there is such an air of refinement that I have great doubts whether it would be the correct thing to put out my hand and take a slice of bread off a plate. Mrs. Elmslie is a lovely lady, tall, slight, fair; but however tall, a lady every inch of her; she might be a Countess with her meek dignity....’
‘December 9.
‘I directed via Brindisi my sad letters to the almost broken-hearted mourners, and I thought, “I will write no more by this mail. I should only write on one theme, my precious, noble Henry.” But I have since thought that I was wrong in this determination. My own sweet Laura will be closing a heavy year.... If I can turn the channel of sad thoughts, it is better that I should write, and not only on one theme. She will like to hear of my home and my work, and I ought to write to the darling!...
‘What shall I say of Mrs. Elmslie? She is one of a million. I never met with any woman in my life so like an angel without wings. Tall, fair, elegant, graceful, with a face that Ary Scheffer might have chosen to paint for a seraph,—her soul seems to correspond to her external appearance. Saintly as she is, she is not in the least gloomy; she tries to make all happy, and is business-like and practical. Fitted to grace a drawing-room, she throws her heart into school-work, and seems to manage the house beautifully. It will give you an idea how winning she is, when I tell you that Miss Wauton and Miss Hasell call Mrs. Elmslie “Mother,” “Mother dear,” though the name seems strange from one who looks quite as old as herself. You should see Mrs. Elmslie with a black baby in her arms, looking at it with such loving tenderness and pleasure too, just as its guardian angel might....
‘I must not fill up all my letter with my sweet friend, and it is nearly time that I should take my morning walk. I always take a rapid one in the compound, which is large, with a good many trees and nice flowering shrubs in it. I hope always to keep up the habit, which is so very conducive to health; but of course I shall not walk so fast when the hot weather comes.
‘It may give you a little idea of life here, if I describe yesterday’s occupations.
‘I rose about six, dressed, and wrote a little. My Ayah brought me early breakfast. I went out and took my walk, then returned and prepared for my Munshi.[32] He is a convert, and was baptized last month, with his two little children. The Maulvi, as we call him, is a dear good man, but too indulgent for a teacher. He is not particular enough in correcting my faults. I have an hour with him before breakfast; and after the meal comes family worship—the morning hymn, prayer, and chapter, always in Urdu.
‘After prayers yesterday I returned for a short time to my room and occupations. I was engaged to go to “the city”—within the walls of Amritsar—with Mrs. Elmslie; for it is desirable that I should see work going on. The conveyance is a kind of large box of a carriage, contrived to let in air and keep out sun. Yesterday we went to four native houses; Mrs. Elmslie went to a fifth, but went alone. Such strange narrow lanes one has to go through; sometimes on foot where the gari could not go, mounting up to the first floor of the houses by very steep steps....
‘We returned home after our city visits, and had dinner. Yesterday being Wednesday, after dinner we went to church; we always attend the Native church. As the prayers are a translation of our own Liturgy, I can join in them well enough, but I can yet make very little of the sermon....
‘I find it a good plan to go to Mrs. Elmslie’s Orphanage, and sit and listen to the lessons, and thus learn myself. The girls in their white chaddars[33] look, generally speaking, well and happy. I was to have amused some of the younger ones last Sunday with Bible pictures; but when I had had the sad letters I gave up my intention of helping sweet Mrs. Elmslie in this way. I hope to do so another time.’