TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.
‘April 22, 1884.
‘Among the little matters which vary our regular life at Batala, I may mention almost nightly alarms about robbers. The servants have got into a nervous state.... It is not a comfortable state of affairs.... The Weitbrechts and I have been putting our heads together. I forget which of us suggested the plan which we hope may succeed. I sleep in the front room, opposite to the servants’ house; so a great tumult naturally awakens me, especially as my windows are open for air. The Weitbrechts are more out of the way.
‘Herbert is to lend me his revolver, loaded, and we are to take care that every one knows that I have the formidable weapon; but no one but ourselves is to know that I would on no account hurt any one with it. On the next alarm of robbers, I am to jump up, and—fire—at the trees or the stars. The report will probably awake Herbert, who has a rifle. Now you see the double use of this arrangement. My Ayah may possibly even sleep out-of-doors, if she knows that a yell from her may bring a pistol-shot from her vigilant Miss Sahiba; and robbers, if such there be, will doubtless dread my prowess, not knowing how peculiarly peaceable I am, and that I would prefer being shot myself to shooting another! I am to have a very determined look; and we have all tutored each other not to laugh! Both Herbert and Nellie have some fun in them, but they are to look as grave as judges, as if Miss Sahiba were a dead shot; especially on a very dark night, when there is no moon! Have I not spectacles?’
TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘April 23.
‘Well, my loved sister, if you read my little note to Leila first, you will be pleased to hear that the night went over serenely. Even my frightened Ayah seems to have slept peacefully under the wing of the Buzurg Miss Sahiba, armed with a revolver! Would not dear Rowland have laughed to see old Auntie learning from Herbert how to cock and fire a pistol! I wonder how Nellie kept her countenance, when one of the servants expressed a hope that Miss Sahiba would give some notice before firing, for fear of a casualty to one of the household; and then wanted to know what would happen if Miss Sahiba killed a thief! Nellie told the inquirer that we English—she was too truthful to say the Miss Sahiba in particular—only aimed at limbs to disable, not at bodies to kill. Nellie knows pretty well that, if I aimed at anything, it would be at the stars.
‘I took care to lock up my dangerous weapon before sunrise, treating my revolver with great respect. Do you remember that, when I was known to be coming out to India as a Missionary, dear, kind H. Boswell wanted to make me a present of his pistol? I declined it, as a very unnecessary part of a Missionary’s outfit; but I could not help remembering H.’s kindness yesterday. Though I never fired Herbert’s revolver, yet the report of it—to speak in Irish style—had a great effect.’
‘May 3.—O yes, my Laura, love your K.[115] The Native is affectionate. Indians are not usually considered grateful; perhaps they are not grateful for benefits bestowed through general benevolence or a sense of duty; but my impression is that they readily respond to affection. This is one of the great secrets of ——‘s power.... I was rather amused yesterday, when I was describing Philemon’s funeral to the dear Pandit of O—— (K. S.), and had said that we went singing towards the grave. “I will not sing at your funeral,” said he. And then he told me how he had tried to sing at dear Margaret’s—but it was quite a failure; he could not sing, his heart was much troubled. The Pandit is a lovable man; and he loves.’