‘Then I inquired as to the poor Faqir’s qualifications for a teacher. “I can read the Gospel well,” was the simple reply.
‘“Can you write?”
‘He was weak in that, poor fellow. Having only one arm increases the difficulty.
‘“Do you know accounts?”
‘“No,” he frankly owned; but he could learn; he would take pains.
‘“You had better speak to the Padri Sahib; he makes all the bandobast (arrangements); he is wise and kind.”
‘If I would speak to the Padri Sahib,—he could tell me; but with the Padri Sahib he was shy, etc.
‘It is rather refreshing to see a Native Christian, especially one brought up to regard idleness rather as a virtue, turning over in his mind what he can do to earn his living. If we help poor M. to a little better education, perhaps his little village school may prove not a bad idea, for the scholars would learn what is good from him, though they could only have elementary teaching. I do not see why rustics should want high education. The Government are educating thousands of clever infidels, who cannot all find employment as clerks, etc., and who will despise manual labour. We want simple pious labourers to mind the plough, spell out their Testaments, and try to obey God’s commands.’
August and September this year saw Miss Tucker, not at Dalhousie, but at Dilur, 3000 feet above the sea, with forest-clothed Himalayan slopes below, and snow above. She went there, partly for the change, but more for the sake of staying with a young married couple, to whom her companionship was a boon. The snow appears to have soon vanished, as in one letter, written in September, she observes: ‘The mountains are quite high and bold enough for beauty, though to my comfort there is not a soupçon of snow upon any of them.’ From the budget of Dilur letters, only two quotations can be given. The first is rare in style at this period of Charlotte Tucker’s life. She seldom found time for written ‘cogitations.’
TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.