The more intimate friends of Dr. Elmslie, were very anxious he should not return to India alone. He was not sufficiently careful of his health, and desirous for the preservation of his valuable life, there was much prayer that God would give him a companion, who, loving Jesus and His service, might be truly a helpmeet to him in his missionary labours, and care for himself also, that Gaius-like, he might prosper and be in health even as his soul prospered. On one point Dr. Elmslie was most particularly in earnest, that if it should be the Lord's will that he be accompanied to Kashmir by a fellow worker, she might be very manifestly a gift from God. Miss Duncan, daughter of the late Rev. Wallace Duncan of Peebles, was given to Dr. Elmslie in answer to earnest, united, and continued prayer. The marriage took place 23d February 1872, at Eyre Place, Edinburgh.
It would afford us peculiar satisfaction to give a detailed account of Dr. Elmslie's proceedings during this home visit, as he was much with us, and proved a blessing to us beyond what we can well record; but this might lead to the consideration of interests that do not claim special notice here, and divert attention from his great life work as a missionary of Christ in Kashmir.
CHAPTER XIX.
LAST YEAR'S WORK IN KASHMIR.
Dr. and Mrs. Elmslie left Edinburgh for India on the 5th March. In London they met loving friends and relatives, with whom they had sweet communion. They went aboard the Massilia on the 7th, and that morning Mrs. Elmslie, on turning to her book of daily texts, got a verse to which subsequent events gave a touching significance, and which was not without impressiveness even at the time,–"Thy Maker is thine husband."
The passage, on the whole, was good. Writing to his mother-in-law, Dr. Elmslie says:–
"Bombay, 6th April.–Have at last got to the end of our voyage. On looking back, have much cause to be very thankful to God for the mercies that have attended it. God permitted us both to do something for Himself. We found Dr. Bonar's kind and valuable gift of books of great service. Both M. and I found our powers of playing chess of use in helping us to get to know some of our fellow-passengers. Since I began this sentence, I have been to the city with a missionary friend, and have seen to-day what I never had seen before. If you were to try to guess, I don't believe you would succeed in telling me what I have seen. It was nothing more or less than an hospital–not for human beings, but for the lower animals! The invalids were a porcupine, deer, monkeys, goats, sheep, dogs, horses, cows, and oxen. I saw some of the sick kine taking their medicine. It is supported by a wealthy native merchant."
They got a cordial welcome back to India. "You will not fail," writes the Rev. E. Stuart, "to convey this, my hand-o'-write, welcome to your dear wife,–a real hearty Scotch grip of friendship. I rejoice to hear of your so wisely doubling your usefulness." "We had the pleasure," says Mr. Clark, "of welcoming Dr. Elmslie and his bride from England. His step was even then (April) less elastic than usual, but his warm affections were the same."
The following items of intelligence are culled from various letters from Dr. and Mrs. Elmslie, addressed to relatives and others during their Indian campaign. Here is a glimpse of our friends, en route:–
"Marching orders were–up at half-past four, breakfast at a quarter past five, off at twenty minutes from six; servants on before to have regular breakfast ready half way. I reach first, being carried in a dandy, spread the carpet and table-cloth in a pleasant place, sometimes under pomegranate and rose trees, sometimes by a waterfall. Then come the weary walkers, and don't we make a hearty breakfast. The rest of the way is the fatiguing part, as the sun is up, and the climbing and rough walking are trying. We reach the next stage about half-past eleven, have tea as soon as water can be got, then rest, write, or read till dinner at five; after which the doctor gathers the servants together, and the sick who have come for advice. It makes a picturesque group–about forty natives, all seated on the grass, the old catechist arranging things, the native medical assistant and his wife, with the large khitta, full of medicines, and Mr. Wade in white costume, leaning forward in his arm-chair, reading and speaking with the people, who always answer him, sometimes with arguments, which he shows great tact in meeting, while the doctor prescribes. He has met with some interesting cases; one poor sufferer is to follow us to Srinagar, as he requires a serious operation. It was touching to see his old father weeping over him. One woman, with fever, was brought on the back of her husband. The twilight is short; and, after the sick people leave, we have a little chat, then prayers, and off to bed.