‘There is an interesting young Missionary here, Mr. Maitland of the S.P.G. He has been almost at death’s door, and now appears much in the same state as I was in Amritsar six or seven weeks ago, coddled and taken care of. He wanted me to come and take a cup of tea with him, which I did most willingly; and we had a good chat together. Invalids like visitors, I think. I know that I did....
‘22nd.—O, my Laura, have you actually been sending more money, to meet the expenses of my illness? I do not know what to say or how to thank you. You must indeed stop overwhelming your Char!’
A very troublesome horse, who broke his harness and refused to be controlled, was named by her ‘Buzdil,’ or ‘Coward.’ ‘I never attempted to drive,’ she observed in an April letter, ‘but exhorted him, when I was beside Maria; but he never minded what I said.’ Then came some ‘rough lines,’ adapted to an old Scotch air, ‘He’s a terrible man, John Tod, John Tod!’
‘He’s a terrible horse, Buzdil, Buzdil,
He’s a terrible horse, Buzdil!
He gives start and skip,
Fears all—but the whip,
And cares not a straw for our will!
‘He’s broken his harness, Buzdil, Buzdil,