A.D. 1892
LIGHT AT EVENTIDE
The Evening of Miss Tucker’s life was passing fast away. Sixteen years of her long Indian campaign were over. Only two years remained. But the end of her Evening was to be Day, not Night. For nearly forty years she had looked forward with joy to the great change; for more than twenty she had longed with an impassioned craving for a sight, Face to face, of that dear Lord and Master whom she loved. And though she did not know it, the time was drawing very near. Could she have known it, the passing troubles of these months would have seemed easy to bear, in the light of coming glory. Barely two more years of toil and weariness,—and then—the Home-going!
One more heavy sorrow had to come first; one more sharp blow upon the golden staff of her Will. Many a blow had fallen since she wrote her little book, The Giant-Killer; many dear ones had been called away by death. And now the summons was going forth for the dearest of all; the sister-friend, who from very infancy had been one with herself. No shadow had ever fallen on their love one for another. Before the close of 1892 the shadow of death was to fall across it, leaving Charlotte Tucker more lonely in heart than she had ever been before. But the shadow was to fall for a very little while. Only a few months of separation; and then the sisters would be together again.
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‘“Stay thy hand!”’ Fides exclaimed, in the story by A. L. O. E., as blow after blow fell on the golden staff. ‘“It can bear no more!”’
‘“Yet a little patience,” cried Experience, and struck it again. Then the Will was restored to Fides,—straight, pure, beautiful,—oh, how unlike that staff which had been so deadly in the grasp of Pride!
‘As Fides stood gazing on the fair gift before him, once more, and for the last time, the shining robe and star-wreath of Conscience flashed on his sight. Never before had her smile been so glad, so beaming with the radiance of Heaven.
‘“The work is done,—the fight is over!” she exclaimed. “Thou art summoned to the Presence of thy King! A messenger is even now waiting to conduct thee to the Home which thou so long hast desired! Go, bearing with thee the offering of a conquered Will, the acknowledgment that not even that should be thine own, and the remembrance of foes bravely met and overcome, through the might of Him Who armed thee for the fight.... Go where all is gladness and rejoicing and peace,—where war and danger shall be known no more!”‘[135]
The work was nearly done; the fight was nearly over. But Charlotte Tucker could not yet see the starry form, could not yet hear the gentle accents, which soon would bid her to ‘rise and come away.’ Before many days of 1892 had passed, she was back again in Batala; deep in her usual round of work and interests.
‘Batala, Jan. 10.—Here am I at home again. I did so enjoy and benefit by my visit to Narowal. It was not leaving work but leaving cares. I worked every day, but the work was more encouraging, and the feeling of repose so refreshing. If I live to see another Christmas, I think that I shall run away to some quiet spot, like Narowal, where the railway whistle is never heard....
‘When I was at peaceful Narowal, I happened to read in a printed paper a kind of fable, which has been such a comfort to myself, that I have put the idea into verse, and my Laura shall have a copy.... As we Missionaries have a great many more little annoyances than great afflictions, I am inclined—for myself—to change the last line but one into
‘“Change petty worries to plumage on wings.”
‘You know there are on a bird’s pinion, not only the long feathers,[477] but the little tiny ones; but how that fluffy downy sort add to beauty and comfort!...
“WEIGHTS AND WINGS.
‘“Sweet is a parable which I have read;
Birds at the first could not soar into air,
Bound to the earth; till their Maker, ’tis said,
Gave to each two little burdens to bear.
Proud ones refused the least burden to lift;
Others, submissive, obediently cried,—
‘All that He sends we will take as a gift;
Feeble are we, yet will strength be supplied.’
“Raising her burdens, each bird with surprise
Finds to her weak frame most closely it clings;
Soft, light and beautiful, radiant with dyes,
Lo! every weight has expanded to wings!
Woe to the creatures that clung to the ground!
They could not flutter bright wings in the sky;
Ne’er could they rise above Earth’s narrow bound,—
Whilst their companions were soaring on high.
“Take we up burdens of sorrow or care,
Looking to Him Who the trial has given,
Grace will give courage and patience to bear,
Make burdens wings to uplift us to Heaven.
When disappointment its heavy cross brings,
Lord, in each trial Thy love let us see;
Change e’en our heaviest woes into wings,
Onward and upward to bear us to Thee!”’
‘Feb. 12, 1892.
‘Mine own precious Sister,—Again have you been called to the trial of sickness and suffering.... These trials may seem strange and unaccountable to the children of earth, but how differently they are regarded by the children of light! They make us keep closer to the Father’s side,—cling more to His supporting Hand,—the weights do turn into wings! O how often have I during late days thought of that little parable! And when we reach the Blessed Shore, and “know as we are known,” we shall fully realise why it is good that we should be afflicted....
‘I was reading the Commandments aloud in a village yesterday, when a bright young Hindu Pandit—rather well read—objected to the Second. The poor fellow was probably conscious that he himself was constantly breaking the Second Commandment. It interested[478] me to hear a middle-aged sensible-looking Sikh take the other side, quietly, and with perfect good-temper. Each of the men afterwards accepted a Gospel, one in Gurmukhi, one in Urdu.’
‘Feb. 18.—I am thankful for improved accounts of you.... We have had rather an eventful week for Batala.... On Monday the dear Bishop came in. Herbert asked me to take luncheon with him on Tuesday. It was very nice; just the Bishop, Herbert, and four nice Native Christians. I was the only lady.... At half-past three we had a very interesting Confirmation Service in the Church, to which the Bishop drove me. He gave a very nice address, which Herbert translated beautifully into Panjabi, for the benefit of the simple peasants. On the following morning the Bishop gave in English such a practical heart-searching address to us workers! He looked so earnestly at us ladies, and was evidently anxious to do us real good. His was no idle display of eloquence; rather did his address resemble the admonition of a kind wise father. We did not see him after we left the chapel....
‘We have had a singularly mild and bright cold weather.... How curious it would be to an English farmer to see fields green with corn in February,—the Spring crop,—and, at the same time, other bits of ground being ploughed up for the sowing of another crop! There seems something always growing. There are lovely roses and fruit blossoms, but the weather is now comparatively dark and dull.’
‘April 8, 1892.—The Muhammadans in Batala seem to be in a much better humour than they may be expected to be during the Ramazan—their grand fast. I have visited a good many Muhammadan Zenanas this week; and in not one, so far as I remember, have I heard a word about the fast, which was apt to make them so bigoted and self-righteous. No one objects when I repeat in Urdu the precious text, “By grace ye are saved, through faith,” etc. Indeed, I believe that a good many Batala folk think that after all our religion is better than their own. I repeat “God so loved ——” more often, I think, than any other text; and I have not lately heard the shocked exclamation, “Tauba! tauba!”[136] Perhaps it will be different to-morrow, when I propose visiting two villages, which were so bigoted and disagreeable, that I at one time struck both out of my visiting-list. Minnie induced me to give them—at least one of them—another trial, as she had given medical aid to the wife of the Maulvi (Muhammadan religious teacher of the place), and had found him very polite. No doubt the Dispensary opens doors.[479] I found the Maulvi bigoted but civil, and ... willing to receive a New Testament.... I enjoy the quiet walk, and then ride in my duli, in the cool fresh morning, when I visit villages. The harvest has commenced. Here I see fields of ripening corn, there the scattered sheaves. But the harvest is not so plentiful as it was last year. We had too dry a cold weather; not nearly so chilly as the former one. I am taking out illuminated texts just now. I have beautiful ones, both in Persian, Urdu, and Gurmukhi. It is interesting to see peasants, somewhat more intelligent than their fellows, spelling out the precious verses from Scripture.’
‘April 12.—Precious darling Laura,—The Mail has to-day brought me in your letter of March 24th; the first clear intimation of the nature of your illness. I will not say that my eyes are dry. I own that the selfish thought arose,—“Would that I had had it instead!” And yet I prefer knowing the plain truth. I have comfort in the thought, “I am old; whichever of us is taken first, the meeting—O what a joyful meeting!—may not be far off!” ...
‘I am thankful that you do not suffer greatly. I fondly hope that this trial may be spared. I do not feel inclined to add more. I need not,—you know so much of your own loving Char.’
TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.
‘April 13, 1892.
‘Though I wrote to your beloved Mother yesterday, and shall only be just in time to catch the post, my heart impels me to send a letter to you, my dear afflicted God-daughter. I know that you try bravely to bear up under your sore trial, so as not to add to that of your precious invalid.... I am glad that I have been told the worst. It has been good for my soul! Only the day before the mail came in, I had been foolishly, sinfully, brooding over trifles, till I even showed outward irritation, instead of reflecting that small annoyances as well as great troubles are God’s loving discipline for us. Alas! that I should have shown temper! The next day the Lord sent a quiet, holy sorrow, and it did me good,—tears were wholesome,—I felt that I had been petty and irritable, and deserved a different kind of trial. I have been more under discipline since I attained the age of seventy than I have perhaps ever been before in India. But should trifles disturb the serenity of a Servant of a Crucified Saviour?... Thinking of your real grief, I hope to be more patient with petty annoyances....
‘Write freely to me, dear Leila. To help you in your trouble will not do me harm but good.’
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‘April 17, 1892.—Beloved Laura, “The Lord is Risen indeed!” This is the Easter greeting, and this is Easter morn. I shall soon start for church; but first I would remind my darling sister and myself of words like the clarion of a silver trumpet, followed by the sound of an angel’s harp:—
‘“The Lord hath triumphed gloriously;
The Lord shall reign victoriously!
Seals assuring,
Guards securing,
Watch His earthly prison!
Seals are shattered,
Guards are scattered,—
Christ hath Risen!”
‘“No longer then let mourners weep,
Or call departed Christians ‘dead!’
For death is hallowed into sleep.
Each grave becomes a bed.”
‘“It is not exile—peace on high;
It is not sorrow,—rest from strife;
To fall asleep is not to die;
To be with Christ is better life!”
‘How beautiful are these lines,—how true!...
‘Oh, what Heavenly wisdom Missionaries need!... It seems to me that dear people at home have a very imperfect idea of Missionaries, and, in their prayers, probably ask for comfort in trial for God’s servants, rather than for the wisdom which is from Above,—the gentle influence of the Holy Spirit. Ask this for me, my Laura. I do get impatient sometimes, and I make mistakes.’
‘May 2, 1892.—Books are a great enjoyment when I am alone, or sitting, as I am at present, by the bedside of one who has been ill, though now, thank God, recovering. We have had such a sick house, your Char keeping well, when it seemed as if nobody else would; delicate Miss —— coming next on the roll of health. She has been able to take the housekeeping, and to help in the nursing, so we are getting on, and hope that all will come right soon. Miss Dixie took four children to Clarkabad, and returned April 23rd, quite ill.... Miss Wright is nursing her. Then ... Daisy and Miss Copes came almost suddenly in from Futteyghur; Daisy’s fever had alarmed Miss Copes.... Miss Copes had her turn next, and has suffered severely.... Char has felt some comfort from being of some use here.’
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FROM THE REV. R. CLARK.
‘Cheshire, May 3, 1892.
‘My dear Mrs. Hamilton,— ... I saw dear Miss Tucker shortly before I left Amritsar. She is, as you know, not strong; 2 Cor. iii. 13, R.V., always occurs to me when I see her. God is daily using her to be a blessing to us all.’
C. M. T. TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘May 8 (Seventy-first Birthday).
‘I am sure that my precious Laura has been thinking of me to-day, as I have been thinking of her....
‘I think that it was some time before 5 A.M. that Mr. Corfield and his boys came to greet me with a hymn. I was in my dressing-gown, but hastily popped on my bonnet and went out to shake hands with everybody. As it is well known that I do not wish gifts, and prefer simple trifles that are useful, my presents were judiciously chosen, and are, to my mind, curiously symbolical.
‘The Corfields gave me a box of soap,—fragrant, and typical of cleansing. Miss Wright, a pretty little box of vaseline. This pleased me particularly. I have said, and I think written, that every Missionary should have a box of ointment, symbol of peace-keeping and peace-making! Now I have one myself. Minnie gave pens. May I make a good use of them!... Dear Babu Singha has given me a hand-pankah (fan), which I waved gratefully in church this morning. This is an emblem of refreshment in oppressive heat....
‘Dear Mr. Baring’s admirable building for the Mission Plough is to be opened to-morrow by the Deputy Commissioner; and I suppose that Muhammadan and Hindu big or little wigs will be present. I am glad that my birthday falls on Sunday; so that the tamasha is postponed till the next day. There is something solemn about the Anniversary, when one has travelled so far on the Homeward road. You will feel this, darling, on the 20th.[137] ... Dear Herbert’s sermon to-day was on “Seekest thou great things for thyself? Seek them not!” We should never have known Baruch’s failing but for that warning word. I have been very much tamed down, dearest.’
TO THE REV. F. H. BARING.
‘May 9, 1892.
‘I must tell you of the grand opening of your beautiful School[482] building to-day, while the scene is fresh in my mind, and before the coming in of the home mail.... The thermometer has been nearly 92° in my room this morning.
‘The fine building was well filled; the part nearest the table with Europeans and Baring boys; the Plough boys, very numerous, had the larger space; and in front, on chairs, in stiff dignity, sat the city magnates.... We sang a hymn; Mr. Wright ... read a Psalm; and, we Christians standing, Herbert led the prayer. Then my Nephew[138] made a short speech, followed by a nice one from dear Babu Singha, and a kind of brief, satisfactory report from Nobin Chanda.
‘And then up rose the Deputy Commissioner, and, to my great surprise and great amusement, gave, in rough Urdu, such a whipping to Batala and her magnates, as I never heard in a speech in my life. First,—Batala, poor Batala, was not like any other city; it was so quarrelsome! Clearly, the Deputy Commissioner (like Mr. ——, who told me nearly sixteen years ago that Batala was the most troublesome and litigious city in the district) has no fancy for the place. Then the whip came down on the shoulders of the poor rais;[139] and it was mercilessly plied. The magnates had to bear the indignation of the Englishman for doing their best—or worst—to prevent our getting ground for the school or the proposed Mission Hospital. For whose benefit was the latter? asked the irate Deputy Commissioner. Not for our own, but that of the women and children of Batala! In short, the Englishman whipped the poor magnates, till he made them bleed—in their purses. He told them that money was wanted for school-benches, etc., and let them know that their aid would be desirable. Paper was on the table.... Some put down rupees; some wrote down promises. About 701 were thus collected.... The whole thing was so funny that I could not help being greatly amused. I wonder what the scolded Muhammadans said, when they went back to their Zenanas....
‘Herbert said in his speech that your fine building will also be used as Library, Reading-room, and Lecture-room. I think there will be a Sunday-school also.’
TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘May 15, 1892.—My precious Laura, you wish me to ask for you more faith and love. I ask more, even for floods of joy. Why not, darling? “Ask, and ye shall receive!” ... My trial, as regards[483] this matter, is different from yours. I have to learn patience to restrain yearning to depart and be with Christ. I have twice, as it were, in dangerous illness,—what men call “dangerous,”—caught a glimpse of the River; and it seems glittering with sunbeams! I long to cross it; but I feel that it would be wrong to pray to go. The Master only knows when we are ready to go Home; but how my spirits rise, if I see any likelihood of the time being near! I do not feel this at present, for I have such a good constitution. Three out of four of my Mission ladies here have been seriously ill; with the fourth I can see that it is a weary struggle to get on; and I, an aged woman, am not ill at all! I do not suppose that any of the four really wish to quit the field—or the school. The one who does may be kept long at her post. None can tell! I fall back on “The Lord knows best.”’
‘May 20.—This is my own beloved Laura’s Birthday,—a day which Char is not likely to forget. Sweet peace and joy be yours, darling. You have added to the happiness of many. You have, as it were, washed the disciples’ feet, and you are sitting at the Lord’s Feet. That is what dear, saintly Fanny described as “the position of a Christian.” Is it not a wondrous thought that you and I may be welcomed by such as Fanny? She was not beautiful on earth; but how fair she will be, raised “in His likeness”! The Saviour will be “admired in His saints,”—a very remarkable expression, and a sweet subject for thought. There is so much in us now not to be admired; but when He comes to make up His jewels, all will be bright and fair....
‘This has been a particularly hot season.... You would think 91° warm in a bedroom at night. Miss —— and Daisy sleep out on the roof: but I think myself too old for the chance of a midnight scramble in my night-clothes, carrying my bedding down an outside stair, should a dust-storm or thunder-storm come on. I keep on the prudent side, which is inside.... A Sunday-school has been opened in Mr. Baring’s beautiful new School-house. Attendance is of course voluntary; and Mr. and Miss Wright, who have started the Sunday-school, and who only expected to find about twenty boys, were pleased to find about sixty pupils; not only the “Plough” boys, but their teachers. Was not this grand?... I hope that dear Francis’ new building will be one of the best means of bringing hard-hearted Batala to the knowledge of the Saviour. The laddies are often not hard at all, but pleased and eager to hear about the Christian Faith. The next generation may be very different from the present one.’
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‘May 29.—Do not regret having told me about your state of health. I like to know the truth, and at my advanced age may well face it. Whether my darling Laura or myself be taken first, the remaining one will have comfort. It is but a “little while”—
‘“Till He come! O let the words
Linger on the trembling chords,
Let the little space between
In their golden light be seen!”’
Early in June Miss Tucker took the long journey to Simla, accompanied part of the way by Dr. Weitbrecht, and afterwards by Dr. Lankester. Through the thoughtful kindness of various friends, the journey was made as little fatiguing to her as possible. On her arrival she was so worn out as to sleep thirteen hours, with only one break, but was afterwards none the worse. Writing of the kind Cousins with whom she had gone to stay, she says: ‘The boys are charming, so clever, bright, and loving. They make of me as much as if I were a pet Grandmother. I bought a little toy for them; and they were so much delighted with it, that I must have had between the three boys nearly a dozen kisses for it. I wonder that they are so fond of kissing a wrinkled old face.’
On June 17 she wrote from Simla:—
‘I am treated here with great kindness and consideration. I am not pressed to exert myself; but of course I take my part when friends come to dinner. To-day we are to have four Calcutta Missionary ladies for dinner and games. To-morrow an old friend of mine, Carry H., and her husband, and Lord Radstock. One of the most lovable guests that we have had is our own Bishop of Lahore. I am to go to his lecture on Isaiah this evening....
‘There is an excellent piano here, and dear Mackworth Young plays exquisitely.... How you would have enjoyed Beethoven’s Hallelujah Chorus, which he has played to me twice from memory! “Worlds unborn shall sing His glory—the exalted Son of God!” Do not those words recall the dear old Ancient Concerts? Yesterday I was tempted, when alone, to open the piano myself; and what do you think was one of the things which I sang and played? My Laura’s “The Lord He is my Strength and[485] Stay!” That too reminds of old times. O what will Heaven’s music be!’
The following letter, written from Simla to Miss Raikes, was on the subject of a translation into Bengali of her little book, The Story of Dr. Duff:—
‘June 20, 1892.—If I have neglected thanking you for a copy of your translation, pray forgive an aged and half worn-out Missionary;—I am seventy-one, and in weak health. In our Panjab I have no intercourse with Bengalis, except such as know English more or less; and I am not acquainted with a word of the Bengali language, Urdu and Panjabi being what is spoken, so that I could not myself judge of your translation. At Simla, however, where I am on a visit, I hear that there are Bengalis, and I might find some to whom I could present the book, which has been your labour of love. I cannot but hope that you have not published 2000 copies at your own expense. I never do; but a Society prints, and takes the risk. If the Bengalis be like the Panjabis, it will be difficult to sell so many copies at 8 annas each. If I remember rightly, my little Life of Duff only costs 2 annas; and our people think that a good deal! But Bengal may be more liberal.’
The next letter—like one or two on the same topic, already quoted—is of peculiar interest, because, some three years earlier, Miss Tucker had been a good deal exercised in spirit about the fact of Bishop French’s successor being a decided High Churchman, and had more than once written in strong and melancholy terms to her sister on the subject. The tone in which she now wrote, in 1892, is remarkable, as being by no means in accord with her former prejudices. But Charlotte Tucker, as I have had occasion to remark before, was not one of those small-natured people, who always stick fast to what they have said, because they have said it. She was ever ready for fresh light upon any matter. It appears to me that we see here in her some measure of that widening of spiritual outlook, which ought to become visible with advancing years and with a closer knowledge of the Spirit[486] of Christ. Probably she was not herself definitely conscious of any difference.
‘Simla, July 3, 1892.—My beloved Laura, I have just come from church, from partaking of Holy Communion. Our Bishop preached. It was a sermon whose gist I do not think that I shall ever forget; for it presented a most familiar text in—to me—quite a new and very striking light: “Blessed are the poor in spirit.” The Bishop said that many persons—I was amongst them—“took the Blessing as meant for the humble”; but he, referring to the parallel passage in St. Luke’s Gospel, showed that this is a limitation of the meaning. The poor in spirit are those who count themselves as actually possessors of nothing; the goods which are called theirs are merely lent of God, to be taken up or laid down simply at His pleasure. In the face of a large congregation, in gay, fashionable, money-seeking Simla, our Bishop with fervent energy preached a sermon on Unworldliness! May God write it in the hearts of the hearers!
‘I thank God for our Bishop. His influence is of untold value; he is so gentle, courteous, considerate, that he does not, I should think, usually give offence. I had the enjoyment yesterday of, I think, more than an hour’s tête-à-tête with him. It interested me much, for Bishop Matthews never puts himself on a pedestal. If his Episcopal position resembles one, he comes down at once, with humility and frankness, and seems like a brother. The Bishop never appears to mind in the least my not calling him “lord,” either in correspondence or in speaking. One has the impression that he does not care a straw about it. I am struck by the pains which he is taking about the case of a young Native Christian.... The Bishop is investigating the matter with father-like interest.... It is a cause of deep thankfulness that European or Native can appeal to a good, wise Bishop.’
Miss Tucker does not, here or elsewhere, state why she objected to calling a Bishop “my lord.”
TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.
‘July 3, 1892.
‘We had a Missionary Meeting last week, at which the most striking speech was that of Mr. Lefroy[140] of Delhi. I could not[487] help thinking this, though the Bishop, Mr. Young, and my dear nephew, Dr. Weitbrecht, spoke before him. In simple, manly fashion, as one not thinking of human praise, Mr. Lefroy described what seemed to me like a grand single combat between himself and a Muhammadan Hafiz,—one who knows the whole Koran by heart—of great influence. The Hafiz, a great opposer of Christianity, asked Mr. Lefroy to have a long discussion with him, not saying that he must go, or was tired, etc. Our champion accepted the challenge at once. The Hafiz appointed a mosque as the place of meeting.
‘Mr. Lefroy went at the appointed hour, and, to his surprise, found about 500 Muhammadans waiting for him. They were very attentive listeners; but great, very great, must have been the strain upon the noble and gifted Missionary. Till midnight, for about five hours and a half, in hot Delhi, in the fiery month of June, Mr. Lefroy held up the Christian Banner against the Hafiz and others. At midnight, after one Muhammadan had been arguing against our Faith, the Hafiz said to him: “If you can bring forward no better arguments, I will take the Missionary’s hand, and go out with him!” He did not do so then; he had not sufficient courage to face the storm of opposition; and again he failed on another occasion, to Mr. Lefroy’s great disappointment. But after months, that Hafiz is a Baptized Christian now. God gave His champion the victory at last!’
TO MISS HOERNLE.
‘July 18, 1892.
‘I am still, as you see, at Simla, but expect to start on my long journey downhill on the 21st. We have had a great quantity of rain. I hear that Batala is flooded, so the heat will be much lessened....
‘Yesterday was Sunday, and the dear Bishop and a few others dined with us, and we had nice hymn-singing afterwards. How you would have liked to have occupied my seat at the dinner-table! I was next the Bishop, and Dr. Weitbrecht sat just opposite....
‘I need not tell you that the mountains are very beautiful; especially, to my mind, when a white cloud, which has been, as it were, quite blotting them out, is lifted, and one beholds the glorious peaks and wooded valleys, lovely in the bright sunshine. It[488] reminds one of the American Poet’s striking lines on a yet loftier theme,—
‘“Soon shall the whole
Like a parchéd scroll
Before my amazéd eyes uproll,
And without a screen,
At a burst be seen,
The Presence in which I have ever been!”
‘Ah, dear Maria, well may we exclaim—
‘“O to be ready, ready, for that Day—
Who would not cast Earth’s dearest joys away!”’
TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘Batala, Aug. 8, 1892.—Daisy and I are living in a remarkably damp world, as beautifully green as green can be. The rain is pouring furiously. My kahars had to wade through water to take me to the city. I had a good fire in my Gurub-i-Aftab to-day, not for warmth, but to keep away mustiness.... Damp is by no means as trying to me as cold, and it is a comfort to be in no danger of sand-storms. No dust now; only “water, water, everywhere.” Happily I cannot add, “not a drop to drink”!... We have quite a bevy of our Mission ladies up at the Hills. I am very glad that they are there. Hard-working Minnie seems to be enjoying herself so thoroughly. Did I tell you of a Hindu presenting, for her projected Hospital, a piece of ground, worth 700 rupees? Herbert had a meeting of principal Batala folk; and such interest was shown in Minnie’s work, that—including a hundred rupees from the kind Deputy Commissioner—551 rupees have been given or promised for the proposed Hospital.’
TO MISS EDITH TUCKER.
‘Aug. 18, 1892.
‘I will tell you between ourselves, for I would not trouble sweet Aunt Hamilton about anything, that, in my old age, since I have attained seventy, I have had more experience of difficulties and worries than perhaps at any other period of my long Indian career. I need not describe the worries; they are things that rub one, chafe one, make life’s burden heavier. And why are they permitted, darling? I think that they keep us in a more humble, clinging position. We cannot ask sympathy for such little things; we are pitied for some troubles; others we must keep to ourselves,—the[489] latter perhaps try us most. But the dear Saviour knows! He experienced daily trials of patience as well as great afflictions. It is good to remember this. Christ, in addition to cruel persecution from open enemies, had to bear the dulness of perception, the weakness of faith, the ambition, the tendency to quarrel, of His daily companions. If great troubles are like the burdens which expand into wings, it seems to me as if petty worries may turn into the soft, downy little feathers which line the wings. They make our wings softer for those whom we have to shelter beneath them. For as the Lord spreads His great Wing over us, He means us to spread our small ones over others.’
TO MISS L. V. TUCKER.
‘Sept. 21, 1892.
‘You call me “Fairy Frisket,” dear. If I be like a Fairy, it is not pretty little Frisket, but rather the old woman of Nursery stories, with wrinkled face and high cap. Yet here I have frisked to Futteyghur. We have a little Christian congregation of peasant converts here, who assemble twice a day in a large, neat room, which serves for a church. It is well matted, and has a red curtain down the middle, to divide the men from the women. All sit on the ground; only Auntie, on account of her age, is allowed a low seat. It is quite easy to me to sit on the ground; but to get up again,—“there’s the rub.”
‘“What o’clock is Service?” I asked of our excellent Native Pastor. “Half-past five in the morning; afternoon half-past five. Before sunrise, and before sunset.” I thought half-past five A.M. rather early; but of course we accommodate our convenience to that of the peasants, who have to go to their work. Says I to Daisy, “You may trust me to awaken you at five!” This is no hard matter to Auntie!... When I sallied forth I could see Orion in the sky.’
A few more scattered extracts from Miss Tucker’s Journal may end this chapter.
‘Feb. 21, 1892. Sunday.—The best I have had since Narowal. Prayer seemed answered.
‘Feb. 22.—Villages. Little B. H. Gave one Urdu Gospel to a young man. Some listened, but I encountered some rudeness. Almost pushed away. Ladder. Widow of Nain.... Went to[490] house of Maulvi F.... He courteous. Some children rude. Sent him one of Gwynn’s Gospels.
‘May 3.—Blessed rain. Three invalids recovering. Thank God.
‘May 4.—Plough. Subject Passover. K. very nice. Gave Gurmukhi Primer. Saw P. D.... Remembers Maria. Wants to learn Urdu. Had good conversation with S.... Saw pretty bibi and nice brother. He read first part of Acts ii. I lent him Daybreak.
‘May 29.—Too poorly to go to early church.
‘June 1.—Too poorly to go out. Wrote to poor, dear R. C.
‘June 3.—Plough. Short work; very weak. Too weak and poorly for work.
‘June 10.—Left Batala. Dr. Lankester my escort.
‘June 11.—Reached Simla, much wearied. Slept about thirteen hours.
‘Aug. 3.—A. B. Man sent me off at once; but almost immediately recalled me; and I had a very good talk with him.
‘C.’s Bibi. Courteous and pleasant.
‘D. E. Good visit.
‘F. Middling.
‘G. H. She nice; but grumbling zemindar came in.
‘Old J. indifferent as usual.
‘H. did not see her, but sweet J. K.’