‘M. “Were Jacobins connected with Jacobites?”
‘I. “No; those were followers of King James.”
‘M. “One more—what is ‘Black eye,’—‘give a black eye?’ I cannot find it in the dictionary.”
‘To this funny question also I gave a brief answer, and then my volunteer pupil left me,—I hope satisfied with his lesson.’
‘Oct. 14, 1890.—The shadow of consumption which may end fatally is on two dear Native Christians here. One is R. U., a well-educated Convert from Narowal, who has suffered much for the Faith. The other is dear Babu Singha’s youngest daughter, Bini. The death of her loved mother in May was a terrible shock to Bini. Babu Singha, a most tender father, has gently intimated to his darling child that perhaps she may be the first to see that dear mother again. Bini is quite pleased at the thought....
‘But oh, Laura, we have had in our Mission lately something worse, oh, so much worse! It has been as startling as a sudden thunder-clap. K. K., the young Brahmin, over whose baptism we so rejoiced, who seemed so brave, so true, who sat at our table ... and actually has been employed to teach the Bible, ... he has apostatised; he has become a fearful illustration of our Lord’s most terrible parable,—“then taketh he (Satan) others more wicked than himself,” etc. I am beginning to believe that this wilful apostasy, after clear light given, is what is spoken of in Heb. vi. I can remember no example, either in the Bible or Mission-life, of any apostate deliberately choosing to forsake Christ, after being received and welcomed, being “renewed unto repentance.” We have had so many dreadful backsliders,—who have never returned. Alas! alas!... In no case fear the motive, but worldliness or covetousness. When to my surprise I heard that K. K. had fallen, my spirit could not readily recover.... Poor dear N. C. began his sermon on Sunday something like this,—“My spirit is heavy; I am very sorrowful.” It was a brave sermon, nevertheless, about “holding the fort.” But now he is the only Christian teacher in his school; and we have to face the mockery of the exulting foe! The matter is of course known all over the city. But the Lord reigns, and all enemies shall—must—be put under His Feet. Amongst those who will rejoice will be those who are saddened now, like your loving Char.’
‘Oct. 25.—I want to tell you and dear Leila about the trial in the Singha family, but wish to wait till I have had to-day’s report of the state of Bini, the dear girl about fifteen, who appears to be dying of consumption. Bini has perhaps never recovered from the effects of the shock caused to her loving heart by her mother, Mrs. Singha’s, unexpected death. The poor child, arriving at the Batala station, heard suddenly that her mother was dead.’
‘Later.—I have just come from the Singhas. Bini lingers still on this side of the river. She is more to be envied than pitied. On Thursday, two days ago, her pain ceased.... She was “quite happy,” “quite ready,” “why delay?” ... Last night must have been a glorious night for Bini. She spoke to this effect,—“I have been in Heaven, and saw Jesus Christ and my Mother. I did not see the others; they were there, but somewhere upstairs.” When some one spoke to Bini of her “dream,” she did not like the word. “It was not a dream,” she said.... If this be death, it is a blessed thing indeed!’
‘Oct. 31.—You will see from my note to dear Mr. Baring that sweet Bini’s long trial is over. With what joy she departed! I am telling the story in villages and Zenanas. She who had so little opportunity of working for God in her brief life, bears powerful testimony now by her death to Muhammadan and Hindu. To go joyously, in the morning of her life, to death, as to a bridal,—this is a proof of the truth and power of Christianity, which who can gainsay? I went on the day of Bini’s departure to three Zenanas, which bigotry has closed. I asked no leave but went in,—I was pretty sure of a hearing, when I went to describe the death of Babu Singha’s daughter.
‘What a contrast between Christianity and Muhammadanism, Hinduism, any other religion! As Bini lay near her pure white coffin, with flowery Crosses above her, a party of the rather upper, educated men of Batala came to pay customary respect to the bereaved father. They were taken right up to where the white-clad form lay peacefully on a charpai.... At Bini’s funeral the contrast was most striking; for as the white flowery coffin was carried to its resting-place, we all singing hymns of praise, the Hindus were—about fifty yards to the left of us—burning a corpse. To the right, flowers and music; to the left, fire. The miserable wail of the heathen over their dead was not then heard; only our hymns, and then beautiful words uttered over a peaceful grave.’