her trying temper, until I became quite cowed, and my education suffered in consequence. Mrs. White taught me painting, and my sister-in-law taught me Bengali. She was very clever, and the only language I know well is Bengali, thanks to her kind help.
I corresponded frequently with my husband in England ; his letters were full of cheery accounts of his visit, and his wish to see me again. He returned to India in February, 1879, and every one was delighted to see how he had profited by his travels. The same year he joined the Presidency College in Calcutta, and lived in a house in Theatre Road. My husband's stay in Calcutta was a time of great happiness for me. He often came to Lily Cottage, where it was decided I should live until he was eighteen, and I was sixteen. He was very fond of my mother, and often teased her about the keys which, according to the Bengali custom, she carried in a knot in her sari. His great delight was to steal these keys and then enjoy her distress when she discovered her loss. " I can't understand why Englishmen hate their mothers-in-law," he said to the English ladies of his acquaintance, " mine is the sweetest imaginable, and I love her as my mother."
The Maharajah and I went to our church regularly every Sunday morning, wet or fine, winter or summer. He respected the missionaries and treated my brothers and sisters as if they were his own, in fact he loved and was beloved by one and all.
