"September.–I have been finding out how very few real Christians there are in India, and how very little even of outward regard for religion, and this makes me feel very warmly to all who really are God's people. We went to church yesterday, and hoped for an average congregation, as sixty Europeans were said to be in Srinagar. Mr. Wade had prepared an address on Medical Missions, and meant to ask for a collection on their behalf, but none were there but ourselves. After the service was begun, one gentleman made his appearance. We often long much for a Sunday at home. However, Spurgeon preaches to us very well. Cholera has been raging in Srinagar, but it is nearly gone now, and the visitors are beginning to return from Gulmarg. We had a pic-nic to the Shalimar Gardens last week, taking all the medical assistants and pupils, &c. with us. They appeared to enjoy themselves very much. The climate here is liker that at home now. Kashmir is becoming very dear to me now. I should like to remain here as long as there is work for me to do. Plenty of work there certainly is. It is an untilled field, but the Holy Spirit will surely be granted to break up the fallow ground, and make the soil ready to receive the seed. Indeed, we are very hopeful that something has been effected, which time will reveal. Dear old Qadir the catechist has been very much cheered by the number of inquirers this summer. If we are allowed to remain here many will come forward, but the fear of persecution without us keeps many back."
"I suppose," writes the doctor to Mr. Duncan, "dearest M. will have told you that our Committee in Calcutta have presented a petition to the Governor-General, begging of him to grant us permission to remain in Kashmir during the winter months. If this petition is granted, in all probability the good work will more rapidly prosper. Will you pray that all may be ordered of God for the best? As for myself, I have not been at all strong this summer. The truth is that my work has been overwhelming. Indeed, the people have been waiting for me for two years to perform many operations. Medical mission work at home is very different from medical mission work abroad. Here in India you have to be a Begbie, Spence, and Walker all in one, while at home you merely nibble at medical and surgical work. That makes a great difference."
Of later date. "I am now nearly myself again, thanks to God's blessing on my dearest M.'s tender and judicious nursing. She has been the best of nurses, just as if she had been under Miss Nightingale for years.
"An answer has come to a telegram which I sent to Simla, where the Governor-General now is. The answer is to the effect that 'Dr. Elmslie is not allowed to remain this winter in Srinagar.' Now, both M. and I say truly, 'The will of the Lord be done,' but we mourn over this oppressed and perishing country. It would have been for its good that we had been allowed to remain, although it is doubtful if it would have been for our comfort and happiness, for we should have been without European society of any kind, and that would have made it very lonely for us for two or three months. But we were heartily prepared to forego the pleasures of society for the sake of this poor country and its oppressed people. However, so far as we are concerned, the Lord has willed it otherwise. We leave this matter in the Lord's hands. He will work when His time comes. We shall probably be commanded to leave the valley in a few days. This has been a season of very hard work, but the Lord has graciously brought us in safety to its close. Since we began work in the dispensary at Srinagar in the end of May last, over 3000 patients, suffering from all manner of diseases, have received medical and surgical treatment gratuitously. Over 200 of these patients have been operated on for surgical maladies, and besides all these cases 382 cholera patients were treated at their own homes by the agents of the Kashmir Medical Mission.
"This merely gives the professional part of the season's work. I have not been at all well since our arrival in Kashmir. This has been caused by the severe nature of the work, and the close application to it throughout the season, and I am almost sure I shall begin to recruit as soon as we begin our tent life."
CHAPTER XX.
LAST JOURNEY AND DEATH.
It will be remembered that Dr. Elmslie brought on a rather serious illness in Edinburgh, by too close application to his desk, when preparing his vocabulary. He had not fully recovered his wonted energy when he left this country for Kashmir; but, as he had been steadily improving, it was confidently believed that the sea voyage would completely re-establish his health. On meeting him in India, Mr. Clark noticed that his step was not so elastic as formerly; and, on his way to Srinagar, Mrs. Elmslie remarked, especially at Murree, that Dr. E. was breathless and weak. It has already appeared from the narrative that during the whole season he was not at all strong. His work was overwhelming truly, and to his own many duties were added the labours and anxieties connected with an outbreak of cholera. He was saddened too by the heartlessness and tyranny of those in power, and by the slanders of the Baboos, to whom his life was a daily rebuke. At the close of the season he was quite prostrate, and instead of entering on a journey fitted to try even the robust, he needed rest and nursing. But he was obliged to leave. The detailed account of the sad journey written by Mrs. E. is before us. We trust we may be guided in making such a selection as shall satisfy his many loving friends, without unduly obtruding on the sanctity of these sacred letters. Before starting, Dr. E. got a chill while waiting in a cold day in the fireless, windowless chamber of a native gentleman. Next day he had to walk in the rain a long way to see a dying man. This, also, was hurtful to him. The day after they were cheered by the arrival of home letters. The account of the Perth Conference by Miss –– was particularly interesting. "I said to him," writes Mrs. E., "that much of the experience mentioned–the love for Jesus and joy in Him–was far beyond what I knew. He drew me near to him, and said, Why mourn! Let us ask and receive that our joy may be full, and he forthwith poured out his heart in prayer to God." On Sunday, they took their last walk in Srinagar, but Dr. Elmslie, on reaching home, was so exhausted he needed a little brandy. In the evening at worship, contrary to custom, he chose the hymns, selecting, "One is kind above all others," and spoke afterwards very earnestly to the Pundits and Moonshees present. On Monday, Mrs. E. suggested that he should delay his journey, but he longed to be off, saying he would be better when fairly on the way. As they sailed down the river, crowds of people ran along the banks to pour out their thanks and say farewell.
Leaving Islamabad on the 25th, Dr. E. said, cheerily, "I'm glad to tell you the liver is in better order to-day;" but the journey was fatiguing, and he consented to take the dandy by turns with Mrs. E., and so they reached Mohumpoora. "Next day we went together to see Carrie (the wife of one of his assistants) and her newly-born infant, lying in a shed. So like the accounts of the babe at Bethlehem it seemed that we were both struck by it, and went away speaking of Jesus in that low estate,–being rich, yet for our sakes becoming poor. He insisted on my using the dandy, but after a little I got out, and sent it back for him. He said, on our meeting again, 'I could not have walked another step.' The dandy men always trot, so that it was to my great distress impossible to keep beside him. On reaching Shupeyon, I found him lying on the bed in the wretched bungalow, and he asked me to get a poultice at once." Various remedies were applied, and he felt much relieved, and wished the epistle to the Philippians read to him. "We read, too, Mrs. Gordon's book on Work. He was much interested in it, and then came the last chapter on 'For Ever.' He spoke about heaven; about the joy of eternity being in knowing Jesus and being with Him,–of his confidence that the emancipated, glorified spirit should still have work to do." The night following the breathing was greatly oppressed and the palpitation of the heart very distressing. "That was my first warning," writes Mrs. E.; "an awful night, but he assured me still the liver was the member at fault." After the use of appropriate remedies, he got relief, and slept comparatively well; and next day was again on the march. "Every march is sixteen miles, and all are more or less dangerous and difficult. Indeed, no one who has not crossed the Pir Panjal can have any idea of the awful precipices one has to climb, the roads being mere cuttings, hardly broad enough to walk upon, along the sides of mountains rising sheer up to the height of 12,000 feet. Our next resting-place was Haripur. There he was tired, but not breathless. Next day the march was nearly twenty miles up–up to the snows and ice. We started at eight, and did not reach the old bungalow near the height of the pass till nearly six o'clock. My darling was very vexed about my walking all the way, but I hardly felt tired, so eagerly anxious I was about him,–the air, too, was bracing, and I had slept well. There we had a room, where was a good fireplace, and we kept up a glowing fire of logs. He was very breathless again, and complained much of pain in the back." Suitable remedies were administered, and Mrs. E. sat up all night watching him and looking after the fire. He awoke better, and said it was only natural he should suffer from the great rarity of the air at such a height (11,900 feet). "We went on next day over the snows. He never walked now. Many, many a time, as I turned a corner, and saw the bearers carrying him over the brink of such awful abysses, my heart stood still with horror, and I could only cry to God to strengthen them. Once a man slipped his foot, but mercifully the path was just at that place a little wider. However, it distressed us both very much, for my darling was in a terribly nervous state, and such a perilous mode of travelling, over places where the missing of a foot must have caused death, was a great, great trial. Sixteen miles brought us to Poohiana, and there William insisted on the bearers keeping a slow pace in case of losing sight of me, as there were many tracks of bears, and one large black one was quite near us. At Poohiana the bungalow was a mere stable, without windows or opening of any kind except the door. He wakened breathless; four pillows were not high enough, and he lay on my shoulder and slept again. He suffered more or less from diarrhœa all the way, and next day was very weak. We reached Baramula on the first November, and proposed resting over Saturday and Sabbath. That was my second night of preparation. I laid my hand on his heart, the beating of which, in irregular thumps, seemed for a few minutes to be heard all through the tent. Those were dreary nights, and in the tent we felt it cold and windy. I fastened plaids and travelling rugs all round to keep out the wind. The servants were tired, and slept sound. Next day we came to Rajaori. He suffered from rheumatism very much, but sent back the dandy for me several times, and tried to walk, for I was very tired." Here there was a dilapidated palace, the only habitable room in which had neither door nor window, but two great openings, and it was agreed to try the tents. A thunder storm drove them from the tent to seek shelter in the building; a large straw-door was made, and the wax-cloth covering of the bedding was placed over the window. He slept pretty well, but next day never offered to rise. Mrs. E. read to him chapter after chapter of the Gospels. He always said, "Read some of Jesus' words–His own words."
Mrs. E. remarked that God must have some great purpose in trying them so much. "Yes," he replied; "I know what He means to teach me. I have sore need of patience." Mrs. E. said how gladly she would suffer for him, but he looked at her with a strange wistful gaze, and said, "Ah, but you can't be my Simon, the Cyrenian. I must bear my own cross." Only eight days' journey further, and then the crown.