A.D. 1886-1887
IN HARNESS ONCE MORE
So severe an illness could not fail to leave traces; and Charlotte Tucker came out of it more distinctly an old lady than she had ever been before. Ten years of perpetual toil had used up a large amount of even her superabundant vitality; and she could not expect to be again fully what she had been, either as to vigour or powers of endurance.
But although strength did not return quickly, and work had to be very slowly resumed, her interest in all that concerned Batala was as vivid as ever. The letters of 1886 are full of details about various High School boys,—either those who had been or those who still were scholars. Letters to Mrs. Hamilton were as long as ever,—longer indeed than in times of greater work-pressure,—and the shaky hand soon regained its firmness.
Immediately after her return to Batala, she wrote as to work generally:—
‘O, there have been such stirring times in our Panjab Mission field lately! On one side, or rather various sides, the poor, low-caste people are joyfully receiving the Gospel. One hears of them listening, with tears running down their brown cheeks. Dear Miss Hoernle, my chum, is off to Futteyghur, with a new Bible-woman specially for the poor peasants. There, after due examination, Mr. Weitbrecht has baptized whole families,—fifty-six individuals,—and I shall probably hear of many more when Miss Hoernle returns....[411] All this is comparatively smooth, for people do not flare up at poor people being saved; but there has been desperate fighting over dear lads of good family; prosecution, persecution, pelting, lying, hand-to-hand struggling; even our chivalrous Missionary, Mr. Bateman, always ready to be foremost in the fight, owns that he has never had such a hard case as the last. The dear Convert, not yet baptized, refused an offer of 10,000 rupees down and 40,000 in reversion, rather than give up Christ....’
Many other particulars, too long to quote, follow.
The 4th of March was to be, as she wrote, ‘a very great day here; the greatest Batala has ever known! Our Church is to be consecrated; and Christians will gather from far and near. One of the most interesting features of the occasion will be, I trust, the presence of converts.... I believe that many of them will gladly walk fifteen miles to be present. One said, in regard to their dress, which is, as you may suppose, of a very rough kind, “We will come in clean clothes, if it take us four days to wash them!”’ The last few words were in allusion to very poor village converts.
A letter to a little great-nephew, the day after the Consecration, gave some particulars:—
‘We had a very grand day in Batala yesterday. The Bishop came to open our fine new Church. A great many ladies and gentlemen came also. There were two meat meals for them; we sat down about thirty-four. But one of the most interesting things was that a good many poor men and boys, whom dear Mr. Weitbrecht had baptized in the villages, came too. Now, some people are proud enough to scorn these poor men, because they are of the low Mihtar caste. But, you know, my T——, that there is plenty of room in Heaven for Mihtars; and when they shine in white garments and crowns no one will despise them then. We thought that it would be a good thing to eat a little with the poor men, to show that we do not scorn them.... Mr. Bateman, Mrs. Weitbrecht, and I sat down on the straw, where the poor folk were eating their dinner, and ate some too. I own that I did not eat much,—I had had the two meat meals already!...
‘Our Church looked very nice. We had to lend three mats for it;[412] and other things were lent also.... But three beautiful cushions were not lent. Dear Aunt Mina, her Wilhelmina, and Cousin Laura worked them years ago for our Church. We took great care of them, and they look in fine condition.’
The Church of the Epiphany at Batala, consecrated on March 4, 1886, by the Bishop of Lahore, is described as being ‘of brick, plastered with lime. The style chosen is that of the Mogul period, adapted to the requirements of a Christian Church. The Church at present consists of a nave, with clerestory windows, chancel, and porch. Two side-aisles remain to be added. The present accommodation is 200; when completed it will be about 500. The Church is situated near the chief gate of Batala, on the road leading to the railway.’
Then came the parting with the Weitbrechts; a sorrowful matter, after two years together under the same roof. Miss Tucker, though still far from strong, was sufficiently recovered to travel with them as far as to Delhi, where she paid a short visit to a widowed niece. While there, on March 18, she wrote:—
‘Here am I, in the famous old city of Delhi, long the capital of India; but I go about to see none of its many sights.... The dear Weitbrechts and I lunched with the Cambridge Mission yesterday. A fine set of Missionaries, whom one is glad to have met. I was invited to dine also, I fancy, but I did not care to have my parting at a dinner-party. I returned here; and dear Herbert came at past 9 A.M. just to bid me farewell. It was very kind in him. We were alone in the verandah; and the parting was almost like that between son and mother....
‘There is an interesting young Missionary here, Mr. Maitland of the S.P.G. He has been almost at death’s door, and now appears much in the same state as I was in Amritsar six or seven weeks ago, coddled and taken care of. He wanted me to come and take a cup of tea with him, which I did most willingly; and we had a good chat together. Invalids like visitors, I think. I know that I did....
‘22nd.—O, my Laura, have you actually been sending more money, to meet the expenses of my illness? I do not know what to say or how to thank you. You must indeed stop overwhelming your Char!’
[413]
A very troublesome horse, who broke his harness and refused to be controlled, was named by her ‘Buzdil,’ or ‘Coward.’ ‘I never attempted to drive,’ she observed in an April letter, ‘but exhorted him, when I was beside Maria; but he never minded what I said.’ Then came some ‘rough lines,’ adapted to an old Scotch air, ‘He’s a terrible man, John Tod, John Tod!’
‘He’s a terrible horse, Buzdil, Buzdil,
He’s a terrible horse, Buzdil!
He gives start and skip,
Fears all—but the whip,
And cares not a straw for our will!
‘He’s broken his harness, Buzdil, Buzdil,
He’s broken his harness, Buzdil!
He’d plunge in a hedge,
Or back on a ledge,
But when urged to go on—he stood still!
‘He puzzles his syce, Buzdil, Buzdil,
He worries his syce, Buzdil!
If you take my advice,
He’ll be sold in a trice,
Ere our poor Mission ladies he kill!’
Miss Tucker planned starting ‘a very sober, safe kind of vehicle’ to carry to Church those who could not or might not walk so far, even in cold weather. It was to be a cart, with a cover to ward off the heat of the sun, and was to be drawn by bullocks,—a humble conveyance, which fact was no trouble at all to the mind of Charlotte Tucker. The more humble, the better fitted in her estimation for a Mission Miss Sahiba!
In June she went for a complete change to Murree, and was soon able, while there, to speak of herself as being decidedly stronger, ‘able without injury to walk twice to Church and back,’ despite a tough hill on the way.
[414]
One friend, Mrs. Rowland Bateman, meeting her at this time, wrote afterwards:—
‘It was so very delightful to see her dear face again, and so nice to get her warm and loving welcome. You know what “pretty” things she says; so on this occasion she said, “I came (to the station) for silver, and I found gold!” Very pretty, was it not? And now let me tell how I thought her looking. It is five years since I saw her; so of course I saw a good deal of change. She is looking very much older; but she is as bright as ever, cracking jokes, and making us all laugh. Then of course, since her illness, she is very thin, and that makes her face look older than she would do, were she a little stouter. And she eats more than she used to do. Five years ago she hardly ate enough to keep a sparrow alive.... Another thing I was very glad of, and that was that she does not attempt to do so much. She gives herself time to rest.’
In July Miss Tucker welcomed with eager pleasure a present from her sister of an ‘excellent likeness’ of the Queen. Charlotte Tucker’s love for Her Majesty went far beyond ordinary loyalty. It was more of the nature of a personal romantic passion.
By the middle of August she was at work again. Mr. Weitbrecht was now gone, and Mr. Corfield had been seriously ill; so once more the School was for some time without a Principal on the spot. Many of the boys did not return to their homes for the holidays; indeed, some young converts literally had no homes to go to. A. L. O. E. therefore exercised her powers to find interests and amusements for them. About this time also she started Shakespeare readings in Batala, of which she says:—
‘Aug. 11.—Perhaps I told you that I had begun Shakespeare readings. I had five readings of Henry VIII., with fair success; so I thought that I would begin Macbeth, which I think the most striking of all Shakespeare’s dramas. But it was a dead failure here! The Natives could not understand it; and those who came to the first reading were non inventus at the—what would have been the second reading. So I have changed my book, and intend to-day to begin to read aloud my Laura’s capital present, the particularly[415] amusing Life of Buckland. Fish instead of furies!—salmon instead of slaughter!’
From many letters it may be seen that she was soon in a steady swing again, both with Zenana and with Village visiting; but the amount attempted seems to have been more moderate than formerly. Few quotations must suffice:—
‘Oct. 15, 1886.—Now I will tell you about a visit which I paid yesterday to a Zenana, where the Bibi used to be very bigoted. Yesterday I came on her husband, a grave, middle-aged man. So he heard what I had to say. Then he asked me to give him a picture of Christ. Very strict Muhammadans object to pictures; but he wanted one of the Saviour. I, as a rule, never give pictures, though I show them; but I happened to have three small pictures, cut out from periodicals,—not coloured,—and I felt impelled to grant the grave man’s request. I let him choose. He took the copy of the famous picture—is it not Leonardo da Vinci’s?—of the Blessed One, crowned with thorns, and put it carefully by in a paper. Will that suffering, pathetic Face speak to the Muhammadan’s heart? N. is no unlearned man. He told me that he had been our K. B.’s teacher. “Were you angry with K. B.?” I asked,—meaning for becoming a Christian! The grave man quietly replied in the negative.’
‘Nov. 6.—I have lately been paying more attention to children in the Zenanas,—partly perhaps because they seem to pay more attention to what I say. When they listen in perfect stillness, one cannot but hope that the young hearts are receiving some seed of life. I had very quiet, attentive little listeners in a Zenana yesterday. When I went to another, some of the children followed me, but the bibi forbade them to come in. In vain I pleaded that they did not make the least noise; she bade them go and play. But after I had read to that woman, and proceeded to another house, children came after me, I think two or three of the same ones. That little book, with gaily-coloured pictures, about little Daisy, which you sent me, is invaluable....’
Miss Krapf in her turn had had a serious breakdown; and she did not return to Batala. In her place, towards the end of the year, came Miss Minnie Dixie, who was to be Miss Tucker’s constant companion and fellow-inmate[416] of the Mission Bungalow for seven years or more. By the time Miss Dixie arrived, as ‘Sonnenschein’ was made only to take in two ladies, and Miss Hoernle was still there, Miss Tucker had doubtless moved into her own little annexe,—the new west wing of the Bungalow, which she had prettily named ‘Sunset!’
A ground-plan of the Bungalow gives a good idea of this latest earthly home of Charlotte Tucker. One large room was divided by screens into bedroom and sitting-room. In front and behind were verandahs; while one side was joined to ‘Sonnenschein,’ and on the other lay dressing-room and bathroom. Miss Tucker lived in her own tiny ‘Sunset,’ but she took her meals with the other ladies in ‘Sunshine,’ and their evenings were often, if not regularly, spent together. ‘We are a happy little band of Europeans at Batala,’ she wrote in the November of 1886.
The year closed with a characteristic little episode, by which it might be seen that the old energy and impetuosity were by no means snuffed out of existence. A young lady, not of the Batala party, was going to a certain doctor at ——, of whose skill Miss Tucker was more than dubious. She had, as we have seen, no very flattering opinion of the medical faculty in general; always with charming exceptions, where personal intercourse interfered with theories. On the present occasion it was not a man but ‘a dreadful woman doctor’ in the case. On learning that all was arranged, Miss Tucker exclaimed, ‘You shall not go alone, dear. I will go with you.’ And go she did; regardless of age, of weakness, of cold weather, of long journeying.
Nor was this all! On reaching ——, Miss Tucker was so utterly dissatisfied with the apparent state of things, that she flatly refused to give up the patient to the doctor. After what she describes as ‘a fight,—will against will!’ she fairly carried off her charge to the house of a friend[417] in the place; and next day ran away with her, by train, to a distant town. The patient happily fell thereafter into kind and skilful hands; and Charlotte Tucker congratulated herself upon her own prompt and decisive action. Whether or no her fears were well founded, one cannot but admire her self-sacrificing readiness to endure any amount of worry, fatigue, and responsibility on behalf of another. The last thing Charlotte Tucker ever did was ‘to pass by on the other side,’ when a human being was in need of help. She never dreamt of sparing herself.
Many letters this year bear reference to the different pretty and useful articles sent out by friends and working-parties for sale or for gifts. With respect to those for sale, she did indeed exclaim in one letter: ‘I wish dear kind friends would sell the things themselves, and simply give us the money! They do not think of the added difficulty of insects and climate! I fear that a good many things get spoiled.’ This however was not the usual strain in which she acknowledged such parcels. Here are a few specimen sentences, culled from letters of different dates, to Miss Longley:—
‘I received your kind letter to-day, and do not delay thanking you heartily for the account of what the dear Warwickshire children are doing for the Mission cause.... The dolls are capital gifts to send. Our little Fatimas and Barakats, etc., like them so much.’
‘Your very nice box of attractive dolls, those that can open and shut their eyes, and a number of prettily-dressed sisters clustering together like birdies in a nest, safely reached me to-day.... They have come in excellent time, for our annual examination has been delayed.... How pleased our little Panjabi maidens will be with their dolls,—even blind girls would be charmed, I think! The clever dolls that can open and shut their eyes ought to be very special prizes.... Dolls are great favourites with Native children, and I do not wonder at this. The Native toys look very coarse beside the elegantly-dressed little ladies from dear old England.’
‘Dolls are much liked by our dark-eyed little maidens. Not only little girls; but I suspect that many a mother would be pleased to[418] possess one of the quiet, rosy-cheeked babies from England, that never cry nor give any trouble. Your useful work-basket must, I think, be presented to some Native Christian girl who is fond of work.... Native Christians also would, I think, most value the scrap-books so kindly prepared. At Christmas we have a bran-pie, only for Christians, and we have to get ready about eighty gifts, even in this out-of-the-way Batala. I begin my preparations very early. I assure you that our children are not “black.” Some of the Natives are quite pretty, and I think not darker than Spaniards. I every now and then see a child with brown hair, perhaps curly.’
‘We have numbers of young people here. It would amuse some of your workers to hear a few of their names translated. We have amongst girls, Flower, Beloved, Lady of Light, An Offering, etc.,—amongst boys, Valiant, Feet of Christ, Diamond-pearl, Welfare, etc. A nice young convert has the pretty name of “Gift of the Merciful.” A little boy is “The Mercy of God.” His father’s name is “The Power of God.” Fancy a number of dark-eyed men, women, and children, with these curious names, assembled around our bran-pie (it is really a bath), and some of the pretty presents from Warwick popping out to delight them.’
Dolls are spoken of again and again, as if too many could not possibly be sent; but many other things are mentioned also,—such as antimacassars, pretty handkerchiefs, boxes of sugar-plums, a nice inkstand, and so on. An unlimited amount of presents for Indian Christians at Christmas-time was evidently a pressing need. Articles for sale had to be sent to Amritsar or elsewhere, as there was no demand for them in Batala.
In February 1887 two little ones came to her for a short stay at Batala on their way to England,—the tiny grandchildren of her brother, Mr. St. George Tucker. Children had always a great attraction for her; and immediately letters became full of the small pair, their pretty ways and sayings and doings. Miss Tucker had to make arrangements for their journey home. Writing on March 17 to her niece, Miss Edith Tucker, she exclaims:—
‘O these children! they are such darlings! Edie will not be three till the 19th, but she is as sensible as if double the age; and[419] seems to take a sort of care of her brother. She is such an honourable little girl too. Mrs. C., the very nice matron here, has been very much struck by this. “It must be hereditary,” she said; “she could not have got it from her ayah.”[118] ... My heart feels very tender towards the loving pets, whom I shall never see on earth again. God grant us a joyful meeting before the Throne!...
‘I sometimes think how proud dear Sir Frederick Abbott[119] will be of his descendants. Please congratulate him and dear Lady Abbott from me.’
In another letter, about the same date, and also on the subject of the children, written to Miss Alice Tucker, A. L. O. E. speaks of having been kicked by a horse in a small Muhammadan courtyard,—happily not a severe kick. The horse struck out sharply, but she had just stepped back, and the force of the blow was also broken by the umbrella which she held. She escaped therefore with only ‘a harmless contusion.’ It might have been a very grave accident.
On March 26 comes a short letter to Mrs. Hamilton, jubilant at the thought of a visit from her friend, Mr. Francis Baring:—
‘To-day my darlings embark on the wide, wide ocean, dear little “travellers by land and by water”! What sweet blossoms of the fourth generation grow on our honoured Father’s family tree! I am sure that you think your pet no exception....
‘I received a note the other day, which made my heart joyful: it was from Mera Bhatija.
“He’s coming again! he’s coming again!
Oh, but he’s been long awa’,
Far frae his ain,” etc.
He is coming all the way from M——, for Batala’s ninth birthday. I correct the boys’ letters to-day, and am pleased at the tone in which they write regarding his coming.
‘R. “Won’t it be a grand thing to see our dear old Principal again?” R. C. “The Rev. F. H. Baring will be here, and I hope there will be a grand feast, and racing, jumping, etc. How happy we shall be to see the father of our school!” ... I shall like to look[420] at dear Babu Singha’s face, when he grasps the hand of his old patron.’
Another letter, April 6, refers to a slight operation which she had had to undergo, for continued weakness of one eye. ‘It needed the prick of the lancet and the entrance of the probe. It was a mere trifle of an operation; Henry[120] is so gentle and kind, she wrote cheerily; then, later in the same letter: ‘Now I must be off for church. We have a great deal of church-going in this Holy Week. I have to play the harmonium to-day. This week Minnie and I have been taking the privilege alternately.’
She was greatly interested this year in a young Muhammadan, who seemed much disposed towards Christianity, yet was never able to make up his mind or to act with decision. He appeared, as she said in one letter, to have clearly ‘two wills,—one desiring Baptism,’ the other drawing him among the enemies of Christianity. ‘He swings from good to evil like a very pendulum,’ she observed. ‘We cannot keep him from the Muhammadans; yet the Muhammadans cannot keep him from Christ.’ In another May letter she wrote of him: ‘B. P. interested me yesterday by trying to make me get one of the boys here off with the latter part of a punishment. “You are a kind of mother,” said he. “When the father is angry, the mother should plead.” Natives do not clearly understand about discipline and justice; even Christian Natives are apt to think that offenders should be quickly forgiven, however disastrous the results might be. Abstract justice to the Oriental sometimes looks like revenge. How often have I heard Muhammadans say, “God is the Forgiver!”—with this they put conscience to rest. But a good many, called Christians, fall into the dangerous mistake of imagining the pure holy God to be too loving to be just. It is the echo of Satan’s lie, “Ye shall not surely die.”’
[421]
In June came one of the heaviest blows of all her Missionary career,—a very dark shadow indeed upon its brightness. This was the sudden and unexpected apostasy of one who for years had belonged to their little band of Christians,—one of the first Native Christians whom she had learnt to know on her earliest arrival at Amritsar,—one whom she had loved and trusted, and whom she had looked upon as not only a follower of Christ by profession but in very truth. She felt the defection of this man with exceeding acuteness. He has been once or twice already referred to as Z., or Maulvi Z., and he might have been referred to dozens of times. The first letter on this sad subject to Mrs. Hamilton was written while Miss Tucker was away from home, staying with Mr. and Mrs. Francis Baring.
‘June 23, 1887.—I am certainly stronger, and should like the visit to the dear excellent Barings much, if I had not such troubles. From Batala Mission has come such a shock! Fancy Maulvi Z. and his family going over to the Muhammadans,—he who for about twelve years had been such a well-known member of the Church,—she who for eighteen months worked as an Honorary Bible-woman! Both, with their nice eldest son, took the Communion with me this very month! It is terrible! The wretched Maulvi is to receive 40s. for teaching in an opposition school, just set up to injure our Mission School.... The Muhammadans have had rejoicings and fireworks,—the enemies of the Lord will triumph and blaspheme. But I believe that Z. has no faith in the false prophet, and that he has loved the Saviour. The prodigal may come back, but probably after terrible judgments, for he is sinning against light and love. I have not the heart to write on other subjects.’
‘June 29, 1887.—I propose starting for Batala early on Monday the 11th. I must be in time for the prize-givings and a feast. Mera Bhatija had a letter to-day from ——, who does not think that Z.’s terrible apostasy has done any harm to the Christian cause in Batala. The more respectable Muhammadans do not trust him, and our preachers are listened to as well as before. But oh, the wretched man himself and his family! I must not dwell on a subject which has made me so unhappy.’
[422]
She could not, however, keep from recurring to it once and again, as darker details came out. Indignation at the conduct of the apostate was equalled by her pity for the unhappy man himself. Writing on July 29, still on the same subject, she said: ‘He did harm in the school while teaching here. Some of the Muhammadans despise him. A most sarcastic, withering article has come out in a Muhammadan newspaper against the apostate.’
On reaching home another trial assailed her. One of her most trusted servants, mentioned repeatedly as V., proved to be utterly dishonest, and had to be dismissed. Miss Tucker felt this too very acutely. ‘In all my Missionary life,’ she wrote on July 16, ‘I never knew such a year as this.’
Miss Dixie was at this time away, and two or three short extracts from letters to her may be given:—
‘July 18, 1887.—Welcome, dearest Minnie, home! We are to have a picnic in celebration of your return. Please travel in a duli, if the roads are very bad, as they are pretty sure to be. Tell us when and where to send for you. We have had many troubles at Batala since you left,—the unhappy Maulvi not only apostatising himself and family, but slandering his former friends right and left. I have dismissed V., and P. has followed him. A sight of your dear kind face will be a cheer to your affectionate Auntie.’
‘July 30.—What an adventurous journey my dearest Minnie had! Thank God, dear, that you are all safe and right.... I seem always to be asking you to excuse short letters; but the fact is that almost everything is an effort to me. I just manage to get through a little work, but seem not to be able for much correspondence just at present.’
‘Aug. 10.—I am glad that you are well and happy. You must not think that I forget you, because I write little. It is rather a case of “duties thronging round,” and not much strength to perform them.’
‘Aug. 16.—We have had such floods! On Sunday there was no attempt to reach the large Church. There was Service in Anarkalli;[423] but that was surrounded with water. Some went on horseback, some in dulis.’
One letter to Mrs. Hamilton contains a brief description of her own work:—
‘Aug. 31.—I go, you know, to city work in the morning. After our late breakfast I have a succession of people coming. For instance, to-day,—1st, Munshi and four boys. 2nd, A convert came, to read the Bible to me. 3rd, A teacher came, for me to explain difficult English idioms. 4th, Three lads for English lessons. 5th, A fourth lad more advanced. You see, love, that this is not a sleepy life, though in this warm weather I usually get some sleep in the daytime. I like having the dear boys. They have done much to keep the heart green under various Missionary discouragements.’
On the 9th of September, responding to Mrs. Hamilton’s letter upon the unhappy subject related above, she said:—
‘I fear that I cannot share your hopes.... A man who for nearly twelve years passed as a Christian, took the Sacrament not many days before he became apostate, spoke coarsely of the Holy Communion to Muhammadans, and bitterly of Christians, ... seems to me almost past hope. He has, as far as he could, “crucified the Son of God afresh” and “put Him to an open shame.” ... Instead of, as you sweetly write, “bitterly lamenting, like St. Peter,” poor Z. day by day sits by his mosque, deceiving the people.’
One more quotation on this sad subject may be made from a letter, dated April 12, 1889, when Miss Tucker was perplexed what to do about seeing some relatives of the unhappy apostate, who were staying with him. ‘Bishop French excommunicated —— (we do not call him Z. now), and forbade Christians having intercourse with him.... It would clearly be wrong to throw over the ——s, who had not left the Fold. I asked counsel from Herbert, and guidance from One Higher.’ Eventually she did manage to see the relatives while avoiding the apostate.
Until the year 1886 Miss Tucker apparently kept no regular written record of her daily work. But in the August of that year, doubtless from a sense that her[424] memory was becoming less trustworthy than of old, she started a Journal, which was kept up until within three weeks or so of her death. The Journal consists of 273 closely written foolscap pages; and, as Miss Wauton says, they ‘give us a glimpse of the earnest, unremitting toil of those seven years in the Batala Zenanas.’ The volume opens with a list of about 173 names of those whom she was then visiting; and this continued to be about the average number throughout the seven years; some Zenanas being from time to time closed, while new ones were opened. To quote again from Miss Wauton, whose long Indian and Missionary experience renders her judgment especially valuable:—
‘Besides being a record of Zenana work, the Diary records many little incidents in connection with the daily life; e.g. notices of the arrivals and departures of fellow-workers, and of the many friends and visitors who came to see her. There are numerous references to the boys of the Baring High School, any sickness or death amongst them, the subjects taken in her classes with them and with the boys of the Mission Plough.... All speak of the many objects embraced by her wide sympathies. But the Zenana teaching is always first and foremost. Other things come in, as it were, by the way. The whole Diary shows how carefully and methodically she carried on this visiting, and what infinite pains she took to find out and invent things which would help to attract the people, and open the way for the delivery of her message.
‘Her inventive genius enabled her to do this very effectively; and the wonderful pictures and allegorical designs she took with her opened many doors, which would have probably remained fast barred against a less winning visitor. These charms were very varied. She seems generally to have taken one with her to every place she went to; and to have changed it from time to time, as the lesson to be taught from it had been learnt, or the novelty had worn off.
‘These are all entered in the Diary as “Ladder,” “Jewel,” “Zouave,” “Pagoda,” “Prism,” “Crosses,” “Tree,” “Purse,” etc. The first was a ladder, painted in various colours, showing the different steps by which the sinner mounts up from grace to glory. The second is a jewel, covered over with several pieces of cloth, representing the different veils, such as ignorance, prejudice,[425] self-righteousness, which, covering man’s heart, conceal from his view and hinder his attainment of the jewel of Truth. But these contrivances were not the only key with which these bigoted Zenanas were opened. We find in the Journal frequent memoranda of little gifts to be taken to certain houses,—“sandcloth,” on the occasion of a wedding or birth, “medicine,” “quinine,” “spectacles,” “tea,” “soap,” etc. The Scripture subjects spoken upon each day are also entered....
‘Her love of children was remarkable; and in many cases, where the elder members of the household refused to listen, she would get an interested audience from amongst the little ones. She writes in one place, “Such nice children!” in another, “I found myself stroking little cheeks.” ... Another striking feature of Miss Tucker was the courage and indomitable perseverance which she showed in the most difficult and trying circumstances. “Nil Desperandum” was her favourite motto, and she carried it out fully. Sometimes she was rudely treated, sometimes even insulted; but nothing daunted her.’
Here are a few specimen extracts from the Journal, including one or two of unusual length. The majority are exceedingly short. I do not give the correct initials for either Zenanas or people:—
‘Aug. 24, 1886.—A. very nice sick father, twelve quiet children; Mark ii.
B. a little better, Christ blessing children.
C. disappointing; outburst of bigotry; M. however silent.
D. friendly; read three parables. Good listening.
E. very indifferent. Bibis. Mark vii. N. left.
Aug. 25.—F. fair.
G. Had very nice talk with him. Prodigal Son. From John iii. New. H.’s nice wife. Seemed almost Christian. Ditto.
J. nice. Boy, ——, promised book if he comes. From Matt. x.
K. Send cloth to new baby. Read a little of Xt.’s Birth.
Aug. 26.—L. careless.... I do not remember what I read....
M. Only children attended. Children A., D.’
Sept. 1.—L. very cross, ill-tempered, loud voice. Rebuked by elder woman. I showed picture of Christ healing, quoted “Learn of Me.” After a while face quite softened, voice subdued.... Last thing promised she would go to church....’
[426]
‘Dec. 15, 1886.—Rudely treated. Man with unpleasant face and blemished eye shook the charpai (bedstead) on which I was seated four times, to make me get off. Went to second place; people noisy. A man asked me to read of Christ, and I began. Was asked to go to more open place. Went,—found open place was the outside of the village. Had to go off.
‘B. H. (another village). Rejected here also. Even a tiny clod was thrown. I told people at both villages that I prayed God to forgive them for their conduct to His servant. Ours is a religion of love.’
‘Jan. 28, 1887.—P. very nice. Q., a youth, hearing of Last Judgment, says that he wants to be a right-side one, and will pray to be so. He is going to marry; says wife and he will both be right side. He means to send her to our school. He learned in Mission Plough.’
‘May 12, 1887. ... (List of names.) Except ——‘s house, none really satisfactory. My heart very sad. There seems hardly any good ground in Batala.’
The names of Zenanas, villages, and people living in either, are generally printed in dark letters on the left side of the page, while the coming and going of Missionaries and friends, as well as items of home news, are printed on the right side. On February 15, 1887, is the terse entry, ‘Operation on eye’; and the very next day, almost equally terse, ‘I was