‘In Mission life so much depends on one’s companions.... One must not expect too much, for all Missionaries are fallible. One should remember one’s own infirmities, and make allowance for those of others. In India we seem to live in glass houses; people are so well known; such a one is quick-tempered, such a one—but you can imagine what it is. There is little privacy even in the dwellings. There is no hall; the upper part of the outer door is glass; people see through, tap, and walk in.... India is a good place for preventing one from growing stiff and precise, and determined not to be put out of one’s way. At Batala especially there is no starch.’
TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘May 2.—I could give you curious anecdotes of the Ramazan, the grand Muhammadan Fast, which has now begun. Minnie tells me of women in an ostentatious way bringing their bottles, as if for medicine, to the Dispensary; and then saying that they cannot take it—it is their fast. Why did they come then? To be admired for piety! Others come, looking rather piteous, though perhaps not really ill, that the Doctor Miss Sahiba may forbid them to fast. Minnie asked one woman whether she fasted. “I am poor; what can I do?” was the helpless reply. One not acquainted with the case might interpret this as, “I am helpless—I am only too often obliged to fast.” It really means, “I am too poor to fast.” You might imagine fasting to be rather economical. Quite the reverse! For instance, the —— whom Minnie employs is laying out a whole month’s salary in food for the fast, to have it extra good. She will have two meat meals every night, to make up for not eating in the day. Does it not remind one of the Pharisees?’
Miss Tucker’s birthday this year was signalised by the Baptism of one of the servants, and his whole family, including a little brown baby. After describing the event to her sister, with great delight, she added,—‘Of course the new Christians were all invited to the simple feast under a moonlit sky, which dear Babu Singha gave in my honour. It certainly was one of the best, if not the very best birthday, kept by your now aged but truly loving Char.’
‘May 30.—These last two mornings I have gone to help Miss Dixie by reading to her patients in the waiting-room of her Dispensary. There should always be some one to read, talk, sing, and keep order. Dear good Rosie Singha is wanted to make up medicines. I do not know what poor Minnie would do without her.... It is strange what difficulty we have in getting Native helpers for her (Miss Dixie).... You will have seen in the papers that noble devoted Father Damien has sunk to rest; his form sleeps in a leper’s grave. What a wonderful life and death was his!’
‘Simla, June 13.—Here is Char in Simla, the queen city of the mountain; but I do not think that I shall see much of it. I have a nice quiet walk near, commanding a noble view; and I go backwards and forwards along it, not troubling myself at all with climbing or sight-seeing. The air is very pure and fine; so I drink it in, and if anything is to give strength it ought to do so.... There seems to be a great deal of etiquette here,—people placed exactly according to rank at the grand parties.... I do not care much for what are really trifles, and am thankful that I have not to go out and be gay. I make the most of my age, which enables me, as it were, to sit quietly in a corner, and not even take the fatigue of rounds of visits. A lady had paid sixteen in one day, she said. Evidently, it is a matter of congratulation to find friends (?) not at home.... We take our meals at a table d’hôte, happily a quiet one. I sit between Louis and Lettie, so hardly speak to any one else, for I am shy of conversing across the table.’
‘July 18.—Your “running about,” love, has been on a milder scale than mine. On Friday last, knowing that I was to rise at about 3 A.M. (after a dinner-party at the C.’s), I did not entirely undress. Miss Warren and I started on our long journey downhill by the dim light of a clouded moon. Laziness might have made us miss the evening train, for we had nearly a hundred miles’ drive, in a succession of vehicles, to reach it; and we knew not what the state of the road might be.
‘Vehicles, did I write? Would you call an elephant a vehicle? We came to a place where there was a good deal of water; the Gogra swollen by the rains. We were requested to quit the heavy gari, and go across on an elephant. The nice docile creature knelt down; and a man actually wished us to clamber up by its tail! He grasped it, so as to form a kind of loop for me to put my foot in! But I objected to this method of mounting, and managed to scramble up by means of a kind of big bag hung across the animal. There was no saddle or howdah; but the beast’s back was broad, its pace gentle, and we held on by ropes fastened across the elephant. The good creature well deserved the two biscuits with which it was rewarded.’
The following letter was with respect to two young Indians, in whom Mrs. Hamilton had been much interested. One might hesitate to quote it, in fear of giving pain to the really true-hearted among Indian Christians; but they are not referred to! It seems necessary to show that Miss Tucker, despite her readiness always to think the best of people, was by no means always easily taken in; and that she gained wisdom through sad experience:—