# Letters from India Volume II/To the Hon and Rev Robert Eden 2

Barrackpore, July 17, 1887.
My dearest Robert,—Yesterday was one of our grand festival days—a large arrival of English letters. I had ten for my own share.
Grindlay deserves to be made a peer for the cleverness with which he contrives that every ship shall bring something. In consequence I watch the semaphore at the fort, twiddling its great wooden arms about, with double interest, because though it may announce only a ship from Penang or Singapore, yet it may signalise an English ship, in which case we are sure of something interesting; and if I could find anything worth dear Grindlay’s acceptance, I would send it to him.
​You have no idea what a good day a handsome packet of English letters makes. Yesterday, in the morning paper, they mentioned that an English ship was in sight at Diamond. That made a cheerful breakfast. The dawk, as the ignorant creturs call the post, comes in about halfpast one at Barrackpore; so about that time I established myself and book in his Excellency’s room while he was writing, and kept an eye on the door; and when the nazir, George’s head servant and a thorough picture of ‘a gentle Hindu,’ came in with a placid smile on his good-looking countenance, I guessed he had something better to give than a common official box. Then there was the fun of breaking open Grindlay’s large packages, and sorting the contents, and distributing them about the house; and, as luncheon was announced, I would not open any of my letters, but kept them till I could return to my own room and enjoy them at my leisure. And when anybody comes to an interesting bit of news, there is a scuffling about the house, or screams of ‘Qui hi?’ and somebody comes and carries off the precious epistle, and takes it to the Lord Sahib, or the Lady Sahib, as occasion may be. But yesterday was a rainy ​day—not rain such as you see, but a constant sheet of water pouring down—so for exercise we carried about our respective letters to each other’s rooms, and talked them over, and the mere reading took up two or three hours.
Your account of the snow being ‘congealed water and cold to the touch’ I read aloud, for the benefit of the public.
I think the native female schools will do good at last, but we attended the report last Wednesday that was made of them, and there was a great deal in the report that I cannot believe. The native girls are married always at seven or eight years old, and after that are shut up and seen no more; and this report mentioned little girls of six years old, who came to school in defiance of their fathers’ orders, and who concealed their Testaments between their mats and beds, because their parents forbade them to have them, like little Christian martyrs and great examples. I asked the clergyman afterwards whether he thought a native child of that age, who has not the sense of an English child of three years old, was really disobeying her parents from religious motives, and whether it was right to teach them deceit under any ​circumstances, and he said no; he had been sorry to hear it. There was a sale afterwards for the benefit of the school, at which we spent with great difficulty one hundred and fifty rupees (about 15l.), and had to bring George his money home again, as we could find nothing to buy.
I do so long to see you all. Sometimes it feels like a bad illness, and I hate all the people here in consequence. That is a symptom of the complaint.
Yours most affectionately,
E. E.