‘Such stormy—oh, such stormy weather as we have had, night after night! There have been such thunder and lightning, and rushing blast, and banging of doors and windows, as if in this great echoing house there were pistol practice.... Those Indian unmanageable doors and windows are the worst of it, particularly if any inmate of the house has headache or fever. One wanders about in the dark,—perhaps helped by the lightning,—to find the region of a door that is the chief offender. The one which I managed to shut in the night, for the first time since my coming chose to shut itself in the morning, so that neither I nor my Ayah could open it. Some one had to go round by another route to lift the latch, which had gone down without being touched.’
In the same letter, speaking of a young Indian, who had eagerly said to her that ‘the Bible is the light of our eyes, and the root of our faith,’ she sadly remarked that it was ‘almost sickening’ to think what the young Muhammadan ‘would have to endure, did he openly confess Christ,’—even while earnestly hoping that he would be constrained ‘by the cords of love’ to leave all and come forward.
TO MISS LAURA V. TUCKER.
‘May 2, 1877.
‘Thanks many, darling Laura, for your dear, sweet letter. You speak of the flowers. Ah, if I could but give you a sight of the glorious pink water-lilies or lotuses out of our nice tank! I am not sure, however, whether I would not change them for—cabbages; certainly I would for cauliflowers. It is not very easy to get our vegetables, twenty miles away from an English garden. However, V. brought two cucumbers to-day,—a welcome sight,—and a Native presented us with some kelas,[65]—more welcome still. My experience is that fruit and vegetables are particularly conducive to health in India.
‘You may rejoice to hear that we have got rid of our very wicked cook.... But it is funny to have no cook at all!! Mrs. Beutel’s old mother does all the cooking; perhaps Mrs. Beutel helps a little; and it puts her quite into spirits. If we were not likely to go into Amritsar in ten or eleven days, I think that we should be obliged to procure a cook. It is a most unusual thing for Europeans to cook in a Panjab May; every day likely to get warmer and warmer! And if Mrs. J. fell ill, as she did last year—her daughter is constantly off and on with fever—where should we be? In a laughable dilemma, I should say; for I don’t think that Mr. Beutel could cook; and I am sure that I can’t! I forget—“can’t” is not a Missionary word! But I really don’t see what I could do, except boil eggs; we have plenty of them. You know that Fairy Frisket did not fancy a kitchen!
‘We have bread brought in regularly; for I did not think the heavy, solid German home-made bread suitable for India. The bread we get is so beautifully light. I do not know exactly where it comes from,—I fancy from Gurdaspur or Amritsar. I am not housekeeper.
‘What a greedy letter this seems! so much about eatables! But it may help you to picture to yourself life at Batala. I am very happy here.’
The end of May found her back again in Amritsar, but by no means downhearted. The fresh check was evidently regarded by Miss Tucker as only temporary.