‘The religion of the fine old fellow who is the principal talker is a regular puzzle. He talks Panjabi; so you may imagine how very difficult it is for me to understand him; and he wants to make me understand. I do my best to do so. This is what I gather of his views. S. is not a Muhammadan; he says that he is a Hindu; though by his birth he ought to be a Sikh. He reverences Guru Nanak,[71] very properly, but thinks that Guru Nanak has given religious tenets such as I am certain that he never did. We have no reason to suppose that the excellent Guru had ever heard of our Saviour. But S. propounds doctrines that are amazing from the lips of a Hindu. He believes in the one true God. He believes that a time of great war and trouble will come; and that then Isa Masih (Jesus Christ) will come like a flash of lightning, and become the Ishar (Divine Lord) of all the Earth.
‘I had taken a Gurmukhi Testament with me. Neither of the men seemed disposed to read it. I thought that perhaps neither of them could; so I opened it myself, and chose a pretty easy place. I had never read the Gurmukhi character in a Zenana before. My old Sikh—for I cannot help considering him one—listened very attentively, correcting my pronunciation now and then. I did not venture to read much. Then he took the Testament himself, and began to read it in regular Sikh fashion, in a kind of measured chant, as if it were poetry. It was clear that he could read; so I left the precious Volume as a loan in that house. May God bless it!...’
‘Jan. 9, 1878.—Hurrah! the box has come! It is in process of being opened.
‘Was I not a real witch? Did I not guess a grey dress? What an elegant, ladylike, quiet costume! And so warm and comfortable!... When I opened my tempting box, I thought of the dear fingers which had been employed in putting it up! How very, very kind you have been! So many, many thanks! And what loves of cushions! You have remembered my weakness for cushions. Soft, warm, and so pretty!... I am obliged to go to Amritsar, just for a few days, as Mr. Clark and Margaret cannot come here; and we must have a serious, prayerful discussion about what is really very important, and too complicated for letters.... I see my own path clearly. I intend, please God, to stick by Batala. My friends will not hear of my staying alone.... May God guide us! Batala should NOT be abandoned.’
‘Jan. 23.—I have come back from Amritsar, with nothing settled, except that the Beutels are to go to Amritsar about the middle of March. The Batala affairs have been much talked over.... I earnestly hope that I may not have a third time to retreat from Batala, for lack of a companion. We are beating about for one, but it seems a hard thing to find, we are so undermanned. Every one seems to acknowledge the great importance of Batala....
‘As for its being unhealthy, I regard it as more healthy than either Amritsar or Lahore. The tank is a lovely tank, with no bad smell; and when it is very full I can see the current of water flowing in on one side and out at the other. Fishes live and jump about in it; and birds delight in its bright waters. I have a better chance of keeping well through the hot weather here than at the bungalow at Amritsar. This house is far better built, with thick walls, lofty rooms, etc. But none of my Missionary friends at Amritsar will listen to my staying here alone. So I must just wait, and see what is God’s Will. He can send me a companion, if He sees right to do so.’
‘Feb. 7.—Perhaps you will be glad to hear that all our attempts to find a companion for me at Batala have failed. Poor —— must go back to England; it was a mistake ever to have sent out so delicate a lady. Miss —— with whom I was in treaty, is going home too. Mrs. —— has been secured for another station.... Perhaps I have been too ready to say to myself, “There is no place on earth where I can be so useful as at Batala.” I must come down a little, which is wholesome. But I have not any sense of defeat; no, thank God,—every visit to Batala, it seems as if fresh ground had been gained. The waves retreat again and again, while the tide is advancing.... I believe that a far better spirit, a spirit of kindness towards us, a lessening of prejudice, a most encouraging readiness to listen, is now spreading in Batala.[72] Maulvi Z. felt the difference. B—n feels the difference. I believe that there will be real regret at our leaving Batala. Dear B—n!... I had brought for B—n’s children two gay little coverlets.... B—n took them and wrapped them round the plump little girls as chaddahs. I think that he was quite pleased....
‘Oh, did I tell you—I told somebody—about my other Brahmin; the elderly man who prays by the side of our tank? I have repeatedly spoken to him in my indifferent Panjabi; and I spoke to my nephew, R. Bateman, about him, when he was here for two days. So on one of the mornings I see my nephew seated beside my Brahmin close to the tank, with only a handkerchief round his delicate head. His old Auntie soon supplied him with an umbrella. R. Bateman gave me afterwards an account of the Brahmin’s strange view of religion. One can hardly imagine a mind in which the whole visible creation is regarded as God. The Brahmin had no idea of sin; he had never seen it, he said,—as if it were a thing like a stone or a tree!
‘I saw the poor fellow by the tank yesterday morning, and went out and spoke to him. I invited him to come to morning prayers. Rather to my surprise, the dear man really did come. He must be a wondrously meek Brahmin; for he seated himself on the floor amongst the servants, labourers, etc., apparently quite forgetful of the tremendous difference between their castes and his own. Mr. Beutel makes morning family prayers almost like a regular service. He not only reads the Bible, but expounds. I had asked him, for my Brahmin’s sake, to make his address as Punjabish as possible; so he stuck in Punjabi words where he could. My Brahmin looked very attentive. He has a sort of childlike readiness to listen, looking full at you when you speak; and his face quite brightening as if with pleasure when you talk of a Saviour. It must be all so strangely new to him! I wonder if he will come again....
‘To-day I went to two new houses,—I have such a number to go to! When I sang of the Saviour’s invitation, to a Hindu, not only did she seem to listen attentively, but I saw her wiping moist eyes.