CHAPTER XVIIIA.D.1890-1891IN OLD AGE

TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.‘June 4, 1890.‘We had a very uncommon visitor, who came at about 4A.M.on the 1st of June. I do not think that he ever came before. What say you to a Bagh-i-bilae, or Tiger-cat? He wanted to steal Miss Dixie’s chickens, but lost his own life,—six men succeeding in the difficult task of killing the fierce beast. We have kept his skin, which measures three feet five inches from the tip of the nose to the end of his rather shabby tail; so you see that he was a remarkable cat. The colour pale grey, with a darker stripe down the back. There must have been another curious visitor, and one who also left his skin, but without giving any one the trouble of killing him. The day after the death of the Bagh-i-bilae, Minnie found in her bath-room the overcoat of a snake about four feet long. He has made us a present of it; for there is no use in advertising for the owner of the skin. He gives it us gratis!’

TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.

‘June 4, 1890.

‘We had a very uncommon visitor, who came at about 4A.M.on the 1st of June. I do not think that he ever came before. What say you to a Bagh-i-bilae, or Tiger-cat? He wanted to steal Miss Dixie’s chickens, but lost his own life,—six men succeeding in the difficult task of killing the fierce beast. We have kept his skin, which measures three feet five inches from the tip of the nose to the end of his rather shabby tail; so you see that he was a remarkable cat. The colour pale grey, with a darker stripe down the back. There must have been another curious visitor, and one who also left his skin, but without giving any one the trouble of killing him. The day after the death of the Bagh-i-bilae, Minnie found in her bath-room the overcoat of a snake about four feet long. He has made us a present of it; for there is no use in advertising for the owner of the skin. He gives it us gratis!’

TO MRS. HAMILTON.‘Murree,June 27, 1890.‘This day fortnight I expect to start on my long journey to Batala.... Life in a large Hill-Station is hardly congenial to an old Missionary. It is curious howpovertyis pleaded here by the gay and fashionable, who live in goodly houses, entertain elegantly, ride nice horses, dress well, etc. “Every one is poor at Murree,”—that is to say, when money is required for religious or charitable purposes. L. is collecting for Lady Dufferin’s Fund; a rich man’s response was that the journey to Murree had cost him so much! The poor Chaplain complained from the pulpit of the shabby collections for the Lahore Cathedral.’

TO MRS. HAMILTON.

‘Murree,June 27, 1890.

‘This day fortnight I expect to start on my long journey to Batala.... Life in a large Hill-Station is hardly congenial to an old Missionary. It is curious howpovertyis pleaded here by the gay and fashionable, who live in goodly houses, entertain elegantly, ride nice horses, dress well, etc. “Every one is poor at Murree,”—that is to say, when money is required for religious or charitable purposes. L. is collecting for Lady Dufferin’s Fund; a rich man’s response was that the journey to Murree had cost him so much! The poor Chaplain complained from the pulpit of the shabby collections for the Lahore Cathedral.’

In her letter of July 2 she wrote,—having been told of shaking her head in Church at something that she disapproved,—‘I am trying to cure myself of that trick.’ It had grown to be so frequent a habit, that one of her younger companions had already mentioned the tendency. If anything was said which she did not quite like, or even if in thought she recurred to something which she regretted, she would say nothing, but would sit silent, gently shaking her head. On being remonstrated with, she showed no annoyance, but at once said cheerfully,—‘When I shake my head, you mustrap the table!’ The genuine humility of this answer is even more remarkable than the fact that, at her age, she should soon have entirely overcome the peculiarity.

On July 16 she described herself as ‘in a frisky mood, on account of getting back to Batala, and finding things so nice here, weather included;’—and a little later, ‘It is so nice to be amongst my brown Christian boys again!’

‘Aug. 22, 1890.—I must amuse you and dear Leila by a little Oriental episode. A nice simple young widow, called W., is being prepared for Baptism. Female converts, who have not husbands, are specially welcome, as there is a great difficulty to poorer Christians about getting wives. Even before W.’s baptism, therefore, —— wished to secure her for a favourite convert. I spoke for him to W., and she consented just to see M. N., being assured that, if either she or he were not satisfied, there should be no marriage.As we are very proper here, the important interview took place in my presence; but I went a little aside, so as to be nogêne. The man seemed very sensible and nice. He began religious conversation at once, questioning the girl to whom he was paying his addresses, as a Pastor might have done with a candidate for baptism.‘So long as the wooer kept to this, all appeared going on well. M. N. questioned, and W. answered in her simple innocent fashion. But when something more personal was said,—I did not hear what, but I suppose that its gist was, “Will you marry me?”—I felt that there was some sticking, and came to the rescue. I asked W. if she were willing; and a little in the spirit, though not in the words of the old song—‘“Amazed was the laird, when the lady said—‘Na!’”‘I was surprised, and so I think was the visitor. I asked again, to make sure; and again came a quiet decided negative. So of course I let “Mistress Jean” “turn awa’.” ... W. has a perfect right to say “Na,” if she prefer a life of sewing, grinding corn, etc., to trying matrimony a second time. I like her the better for her independent spirit.’

‘So long as the wooer kept to this, all appeared going on well. M. N. questioned, and W. answered in her simple innocent fashion. But when something more personal was said,—I did not hear what, but I suppose that its gist was, “Will you marry me?”—I felt that there was some sticking, and came to the rescue. I asked W. if she were willing; and a little in the spirit, though not in the words of the old song—

‘“Amazed was the laird, when the lady said—‘Na!’”

‘I was surprised, and so I think was the visitor. I asked again, to make sure; and again came a quiet decided negative. So of course I let “Mistress Jean” “turn awa’.” ... W. has a perfect right to say “Na,” if she prefer a life of sewing, grinding corn, etc., to trying matrimony a second time. I like her the better for her independent spirit.’

‘Aug. 28.—I think that this August has been the pleasantest month that I have spent this year. The temperature, quite unusually mild for August, suits me admirably; for my idea of a perfect temperature is from 80° to 85° in the house. It is getting into the 90°s that is trying. There is a good deal of sickness about from damp, but damp does not appear to hurt me, and it makes the air so soft.’

‘Sept. 12.—I have written through dear Leila my triple thanks for the very elegant tasteful dress and pretty jacket. The cloud I am keeping for Minnie, whom I hope to see back on Tuesday. The women in Batala will be so glad to have the “Star” open again. Dear sweet Daisy Key and I will be glad too to have the doctoring in the compound taken off our hands. Some one or other seems to be perpetually ill. Castor-oil and quinine have to be freely used. Happily both are easily procured, especially the first....‘As I was walking in the city early one morning,[126]a party of Government schoolboys passed me, marching in order, in evident imitation of our Christian boys. A minute or two afterwards a very respectable-looking middle-aged Native, probably their master, ran after me. I halted, to know what he wanted; and something like this curious conversation passed between us, in English,—‘Master.“I beg your pardon. Do you pronounce opíate or ópiate?”‘I. “Ópiate.”‘M. “Who were the Jacobins?”‘I. “Bad men, who cut off other people’s heads.”‘M. “Were they Roman Catholics or Protestants?”‘I. “Neither. They had no religion.”‘M. “Were Jacobins connected with Jacobites?”‘I. “No; those were followers of King James.”‘M. “One more—what is ‘Black eye,’—‘give a black eye?’ I cannot find it in the dictionary.”‘To this funny question also I gave a brief answer, and then my volunteer pupil left me,—I hope satisfied with his lesson.’

‘As I was walking in the city early one morning,[126]a party of Government schoolboys passed me, marching in order, in evident imitation of our Christian boys. A minute or two afterwards a very respectable-looking middle-aged Native, probably their master, ran after me. I halted, to know what he wanted; and something like this curious conversation passed between us, in English,—

‘Master.“I beg your pardon. Do you pronounce opíate or ópiate?”

‘I. “Ópiate.”

‘M. “Who were the Jacobins?”

‘I. “Bad men, who cut off other people’s heads.”

‘M. “Were they Roman Catholics or Protestants?”

‘I. “Neither. They had no religion.”

‘M. “Were Jacobins connected with Jacobites?”

‘I. “No; those were followers of King James.”

‘M. “One more—what is ‘Black eye,’—‘give a black eye?’ I cannot find it in the dictionary.”

‘To this funny question also I gave a brief answer, and then my volunteer pupil left me,—I hope satisfied with his lesson.’

‘Oct. 14, 1890.—The shadow of consumption whichmayend fatally is on two dear Native Christians here. One is R. U., a well-educated Convert from Narowal, who has suffered much for the Faith. The other is dear Babu Singha’s youngest daughter, Bini. The death of her loved mother in May was a terrible shock to Bini. Babu Singha, a most tender father, has gently intimated to his darling child that perhaps she may be the first to see that dear mother again. Bini is quite pleased at the thought....‘But oh, Laura, we have had in our Mission lately something worse, oh, so much worse! It has been as startling as a sudden thunder-clap. K. K., the young Brahmin, over whose baptism we so rejoiced, who seemed so brave, so true, who sat at our table ... and actually has been employed toteach the Bible, ...hehas apostatised;hehas become a fearful illustration of our Lord’s most terrible parable,—“then taketh he (Satan) others more wicked than himself,” etc. I am beginning to believe that this wilful apostasy, after clear light given, is what is spoken of in Heb. vi. I can remember no example, either in the Bible or Mission-life, of any apostate deliberately choosing to forsake Christ, after being received and welcomed, being “renewed unto repentance.” We have had so many dreadful backsliders,—who have never returned. Alas! alas!... In no casefearthe motive, but worldliness or covetousness. When to my surprise I heard that K. K. had fallen, my spirit could not readily recover.... Poor dear N. C. began his sermon on Sunday something like this,—“My spirit is heavy; I am very sorrowful.” It was a brave sermon, nevertheless, about “holding the fort.” But now he is the only Christian teacher in his school; and we have to face the mockery of the exulting foe! The matter is of course knownall over the city. But the Lord reigns, and all enemies shall—must—be put under His Feet. Amongst those whowillrejoice will be those who are saddened now, like your loving Char.’

‘But oh, Laura, we have had in our Mission lately something worse, oh, so much worse! It has been as startling as a sudden thunder-clap. K. K., the young Brahmin, over whose baptism we so rejoiced, who seemed so brave, so true, who sat at our table ... and actually has been employed toteach the Bible, ...hehas apostatised;hehas become a fearful illustration of our Lord’s most terrible parable,—“then taketh he (Satan) others more wicked than himself,” etc. I am beginning to believe that this wilful apostasy, after clear light given, is what is spoken of in Heb. vi. I can remember no example, either in the Bible or Mission-life, of any apostate deliberately choosing to forsake Christ, after being received and welcomed, being “renewed unto repentance.” We have had so many dreadful backsliders,—who have never returned. Alas! alas!... In no casefearthe motive, but worldliness or covetousness. When to my surprise I heard that K. K. had fallen, my spirit could not readily recover.... Poor dear N. C. began his sermon on Sunday something like this,—“My spirit is heavy; I am very sorrowful.” It was a brave sermon, nevertheless, about “holding the fort.” But now he is the only Christian teacher in his school; and we have to face the mockery of the exulting foe! The matter is of course knownall over the city. But the Lord reigns, and all enemies shall—must—be put under His Feet. Amongst those whowillrejoice will be those who are saddened now, like your loving Char.’

‘Oct. 25.—I want to tell you and dear Leila about the trial in the Singha family, but wish to wait till I have had to-day’s report of the state of Bini, the dear girl about fifteen, who appears to be dying of consumption. Bini has perhaps never recovered from the effects of the shock caused to her loving heart by her mother, Mrs. Singha’s, unexpected death. The poor child, arriving at the Batala station, heard suddenly that her mother was dead.’

‘Later.—I have just come from the Singhas. Bini lingers still on this side of the river. She is more to be envied than pitied. On Thursday, two days ago, her pain ceased.... She was “quite happy,” “quite ready,” “why delay?” ... Last night must have been a glorious night for Bini. She spoke to this effect,—“I have been in Heaven, and saw Jesus Christ and my Mother. I did not see the others; they were there, butsomewhere upstairs.” When some one spoke to Bini of her “dream,” she did not like the word. “It was not a dream,” she said.... If this be death, it is a blessed thing indeed!’

‘Oct. 31.—You will see from my note to dear Mr. Baring that sweet Bini’s long trial is over. With what joy she departed! I am telling the story in villages and Zenanas. She who had so little opportunity of working for God in her brief life, bears powerful testimony now by her death to Muhammadan and Hindu. To go joyously, in the morning of her life, to death, as to a bridal,—this is a proof of the truth and power of Christianity, which who can gainsay? I went on the day of Bini’s departure to three Zenanas, which bigotry has closed. I asked no leave but went in,—I was pretty sure of a hearing, when I went to describe the death of Babu Singha’s daughter.‘What a contrast between Christianity and Muhammadanism, Hinduism,anyother religion! As Bini lay near her pure white coffin, with flowery Crosses above her, a party of the rather upper, educated men of Batala came to pay customary respect to the bereaved father. They were taken right up to where the white-clad form lay peacefully on a charpai.... At Bini’s funeral the contrast was most striking; for as the white flowery coffin was carried to its resting-place, we all singing hymns of praise, the Hindus were—about fifty yards to the left of us—burning a corpse. To the right, flowers and music; to the left, fire. The miserable wail of the heathen over their dead was not then heard; only our hymns, and then beautiful words uttered over a peaceful grave.’

‘What a contrast between Christianity and Muhammadanism, Hinduism,anyother religion! As Bini lay near her pure white coffin, with flowery Crosses above her, a party of the rather upper, educated men of Batala came to pay customary respect to the bereaved father. They were taken right up to where the white-clad form lay peacefully on a charpai.... At Bini’s funeral the contrast was most striking; for as the white flowery coffin was carried to its resting-place, we all singing hymns of praise, the Hindus were—about fifty yards to the left of us—burning a corpse. To the right, flowers and music; to the left, fire. The miserable wail of the heathen over their dead was not then heard; only our hymns, and then beautiful words uttered over a peaceful grave.’

‘SUNSET,’ A. L. O. E.’S THREE-ROOMED HOUSE

Letters at this late period of Miss Tucker’s life become so abundant, from numerous quarters, that the main difficulty is in selection, the main cause of regret is that so few can be used. The history of 1891 and 1892 may be told chiefly by Miss Tucker’s details of what went on. Miss Dixie remained her constant companion in the little Mission bungalow all these years,—except when absent for her summer holiday, or on furlough. Others came and went, remaining a longer or a shorter time in Batala. Dr. Weitbrecht had settled down as C.M.S. Missionary in the place; and Mr. Bateman, stationed at Narowal, came and went on itinerating expeditions.

Charlotte Tucker still lived her life of rigid simplicity; though perhaps certain indulgences, immaterial when she was younger and in more vigorous health, had now become a positive necessity. Long Indian toil, as well as sharp illnesses, had told upon her; and at seventy she had every appearance of being ninety. Yet, through weakness, weariness, and languor, she struggled on, and kept up her steady round of work.

The little ‘Sunset’ house, in which she lived, consisted mainly of the following: bath-room, size 8 feet by 8; dressing-room, size 13 feet by 8; the one large principal room, size 24 feet by 13, divided by a screen into bedroomand sitting-room; and the verandahs. Miss Tucker’s chief room has been described to me by one who spent months at Batala, as, at this date,—‘Rather bare and shabby, and used to have rather an untidy look.... As you went in from the verandah in front, the fireplace was on your left, and a sofa, with a screen behind it, screening off the bed, on your right. In front of you was the little table, where she used to write. I cannot remember all of the furniture; there was not very much,—I think some shelves on each side of the fireplace.’

This does not sound too luxurious. No doubt Miss Tucker might, without expense, have made her rooms much prettier, but for her passion for giving away. She seldom kept for herself more than was imperatively needed. While on this subject, it may be worth remarking, as regards the food of the Missionary ladies in Batala, that the cost of it has been found to amount, on an average, to about eight annas a day,—an anna being worth rather less than a penny. The said estimate applies to an ordinary time, including a certain amount of entertaining of visitors. Probably the cost would be much the same in other parts of the Panjab, unless it were slightly more in large Stations.

A few scattered sentences from the Journal may precede the letters of 1891:—

‘April 30, 1889.—Villages.... Sikh bibi very nice. I said, “I am very weak. If you heard that I died, what would you say?” Reply: “Gone to Jesus! Gone to Heaven!” After a while I asked, “Were I to hear of your death, what should I say?” A little delay; then a bibi observed on thekirpa, mercy, of Jesus, and thought that He might take them too.’

‘Aug. 31.—“Faint, yet pursuing,” must be my motto. The two boys from ——, who came to Anarkalli, as if resolved to embrace Christianity, but, being without root, left us again, seem to have done much harm. The Muhammadans more bitter than before. Twice this week I—an aged servant of Christ—have been turned away from the Zenanas, to which I went in gentleness and kindness. To-dayI was rejected at a fourth.... It is a strain upon the threefold cord of Faith, Hope, and Love, this deliberate choosing of darkness instead of light, Barabbas instead of Christ. We need the prayers of God’s people, and to remember the promise, “In due season ye shall reap if ye faint not.”’

‘Sept. 4.— ... Two places very nice. B. is determined to be a Christian, and teach his wife. Wants Urdu Gospel....‘Sept. 5.— ... Felt ill; half-blind; yet generally well-heard....‘Sept. 6.— ... Ophthalmia, but managed to go to Q. five places....‘Dec. 12, 1889.—D.G. Hindus cross. As I mounted dark stair, heard “Buha band.”[127]However, I ventured up, smiling, and said,—“When you come to the Dispensary, the door is not shut.” There were four women; the two elder cross, not the younger. At first no seat was offered me; then some one said, “Buddhi,”[128]on which a small mat was brought, and the old woman meekly sat down. I tried to make my visit pleasant, showed my Golden Tree, and sang. It was a kind of breaking of ice. I took care not to stay very long. When I had risen, the two younger salaamed. I turned, smiling, to one cross old lady, and coaxed her to return my salaam. After a little while she did so; but I wanted to conquer the toughest also. The younger women listened, much amused, to my polite expostulations on her rudeness. At last the old hand went up to the brow, and I departed, contented. The ice was broken. One can go again.’

‘Sept. 4.— ... Two places very nice. B. is determined to be a Christian, and teach his wife. Wants Urdu Gospel....

‘Sept. 5.— ... Felt ill; half-blind; yet generally well-heard....

‘Sept. 6.— ... Ophthalmia, but managed to go to Q. five places....

‘Dec. 12, 1889.—D.G. Hindus cross. As I mounted dark stair, heard “Buha band.”[127]However, I ventured up, smiling, and said,—“When you come to the Dispensary, the door is not shut.” There were four women; the two elder cross, not the younger. At first no seat was offered me; then some one said, “Buddhi,”[128]on which a small mat was brought, and the old woman meekly sat down. I tried to make my visit pleasant, showed my Golden Tree, and sang. It was a kind of breaking of ice. I took care not to stay very long. When I had risen, the two younger salaamed. I turned, smiling, to one cross old lady, and coaxed her to return my salaam. After a little while she did so; but I wanted to conquer the toughest also. The younger women listened, much amused, to my polite expostulations on her rudeness. At last the old hand went up to the brow, and I departed, contented. The ice was broken. One can go again.’

‘Dec. 25, Christmas, 1889.—Nice. D., B., and children, made catechumens.’

‘Dec. 27.—The best day, I think, that I have ever had in Zenanas.... N. B., A very nice visit. Two fine young men, and at least seven women of various ages, appeared pleased, interested, and without any bigotry. So much inclined towards Christianity did one man in particular seem, that I spoke of the advantage of a united family accepting the Truth, and expressed a hope that all would come out. “Sat!”[129]echoed the Hindu heartily, throwing up one of his hands, as though to give force to the word.’

‘June 29, 1890.—I have, three times in as many weeks, been able freely to show a Bible picture in Islami schools, and speak of Christ. To-day, as I walked in the streets, twice tradesmen in their little shops wished to see my picture. I stopped, and others gathered round, whilst I explained.’

‘Sept. 2, 1890....K., she sad. Seems to regret death of her poor young S., whom she kept such a prisoner, and of whom I thought, “If any one in that quarter be a secret believer, it is she!” I could seldom get into the house. The sweet S. was quite a prisoner. I have even stood before the window, and sung in the open lane, hoping that S. would hear the sound of my voice, like imprisoned Richard. I hear that S. gave birth to a girl, “a very beautiful tiny child,” who only lived for a month, and the young mother soon followed. I have strong hopes that both are with the Lord Jesus.’

‘Feb. 9, 1891.— ... I have suffered greatly from chilliness this cold weather. Perhaps in no winter during my whole life more. Old age. Ague.’

‘March 25, 1891.—Song. W. B. Buckle; but my best hearer was R. L., very interesting schoolboy. He met me at my first Zenana, and followed me to all the others. He was so nice,—even singing bhajans—that I thought at first that he must have learned at the Plough. With interest, amid interruptions from women, listened to story of the three Jews in the furnace, and told it afterwards in another Zenana. He was a help to me, explaining the Buckle, etc., very nicely. When the subject was Christ’s Ascension, the boy said that He had gone up to God Almighty. I intend to write out the song for the dear fellow.... His heart seemed so impressionable, and his face brightened at the thought of the Crown to be given to “those who believe in Jesus.” “I want to be a Christian,” he said in English. Lord, bless him. Give him the Crown.’

‘April 13, 1891....R. E. took me into her arms; felt so slim encircled by them. I noticed a quantity of jewels on her arms. She popped her bare feet on my knee,—I was seated on the ground,—to show me the jewels on them. Her amount of clothing was by no means proportionate. Presently down went her forehead on my lap. I silently hoped that there was not much oil on her hair.’

‘May 14.—Hindus very nice. My A. B., cheerful-looking C. D., another whom I do not know so well, E. F. These three all hope to meet me in Heaven. When I said to C. D., “But how can we go? We are sinners!”—her simple reply was, “Jesus Christ, Guide.” I have hopes of these three.’

‘May 15.—F. G., nice intelligent man. I was surprised at alittleboy, H. I., being able to read. Gave him hymn-book. Was much followed about by boys....’

‘May 25, 1891....Felt the weight of years much. Work a struggle! Lord, help me!...’

‘June 4....L. very nice. When I said that she was patient, poor dying hand pointed upwards. Peace on face. Many listened....’

‘June 22....I am to start to-day for Dalhousie. Feel old and rather worn out. If I live to 1892 must not stay down[130]so long....’

‘Aug 14, 1891....I sat outside with Bibis, in front of ——‘s house. The door half open, behind it pretty smiling young Bibi, who again and again silently made signs to me to come in. Did so, and sat beside her. She did not utter one word, but by her looks tried to show me that she received the Word, and believed. She only said “Salaam,” when I left. I read to her of Christ being the Good Shepherd, His own words.’

‘Dec. 24.—J. ill; sweet. Told me that, sitting up in bed, she saw beings come in, clothed in white shining raiment. Felt frightened. Asked why they did not speak. Afterwards fell asleep, and dreamed of being taken to a beautiful place. She is, we think, a true believer, confesses herself sinful, and looks to Christ for salvation. Asked her if she would like baptism. “Yes.” “Would your husband allow it?” “No.”’

These are specimens of the longer entries. The majority are exceedingly brief, consisting for the most part of names, initials, and single words. Letters to Mrs. Hamilton in the early part of 1891 are unusually few: not that the usual number were not written, but few have been kept. In the spring of that year there was some discussion as to the name of ‘The Plough School,’—her own favourite name for the School, which meant much to her. One cannot but regret that any stir should have been made about the matter, when she had been the ‘mother’ of the school. The criticism having been put forward, however needlessly, she wrote to Mr. Baring:—

‘By-the-by, the name “Plough” is objected to, as sounding like a public-house.... How could we choose a name that would signifyentire dependence on God?... The Plough appears to be flourishing. Boys come to it even from what we call the large Government School. Numbers have arisen to about 113. To-day I had no fewer than seven rather superior boys from the Plough. They come for religious conversation and Bible pictures.’

On the 17th of June 1891 she wrote to Mrs. Gardiner about the recent death of that remarkable man, Bishop French,—no longer holding the position of a Bishop, but working as a simple Missionary.

‘My dear Mrs. Gardiner,—Though June in the plains is not the most favourable month for letter-writing, especially to a Septuagenarian, I will not let your kind note remain longer unanswered.‘Yes, indeed, our late loved Bishop French was a saint, one whose memory is sweet, whose example is lofty. You will have seen the article in thePanjab Mission News. I think that it was written by Rowland Bateman, who, so like himself, feels not having rushed off in all the heat, to have been at the side of his venerated Friend, left alone in a land of strangers. But the dear Saint was not alone! What a glorious ending to his beautiful course! He reminds one, when dying in the grapple with Muhammadanism in the very home of its birth, of the Swiss hero, who broke the phalanx of the enemy by clasping the spears of the foremost in his arms, and so receiving them into his breast.“‘Make way for liberty,’ he cried;‘Make way for liberty!’—and died.”‘Of course there will be a Memoir of Bishop French,—but where is the Boswell competent to write it? Who could give all the delicate touches, needed for a perfect portrait of one with so many idiosyncrasies?‘How well I remember the dear Bishop coming all the way from Lahore,—when there was no railway,—to visit me, when I was supposed to be dying.[131]He sat by my bedside, gently talking. I do not remember that I said anything to him. I was looking up at his face, and thinking what a lovely medallion might be made of it in wax! It was an earthly thought; but when you recall the delicate features, pure complexion, and saintly look, of that countenance, you will hardly wonder at the sick woman’s reflection.‘My letters, or rather letter, from England came in when I wasengaged in writing, and you will not wonder at the blot on the last page.... I feel now disinclined to write at all. My beloved sister, Mrs. Hamilton, has been seriously ill; but, thank God, to-day’s account of her is good.—Yours affectionately,C. M. Tucker.

‘My dear Mrs. Gardiner,—Though June in the plains is not the most favourable month for letter-writing, especially to a Septuagenarian, I will not let your kind note remain longer unanswered.

‘Yes, indeed, our late loved Bishop French was a saint, one whose memory is sweet, whose example is lofty. You will have seen the article in thePanjab Mission News. I think that it was written by Rowland Bateman, who, so like himself, feels not having rushed off in all the heat, to have been at the side of his venerated Friend, left alone in a land of strangers. But the dear Saint was not alone! What a glorious ending to his beautiful course! He reminds one, when dying in the grapple with Muhammadanism in the very home of its birth, of the Swiss hero, who broke the phalanx of the enemy by clasping the spears of the foremost in his arms, and so receiving them into his breast.

“‘Make way for liberty,’ he cried;‘Make way for liberty!’—and died.”

“‘Make way for liberty,’ he cried;

‘Make way for liberty!’—and died.”

‘Of course there will be a Memoir of Bishop French,—but where is the Boswell competent to write it? Who could give all the delicate touches, needed for a perfect portrait of one with so many idiosyncrasies?

‘How well I remember the dear Bishop coming all the way from Lahore,—when there was no railway,—to visit me, when I was supposed to be dying.[131]He sat by my bedside, gently talking. I do not remember that I said anything to him. I was looking up at his face, and thinking what a lovely medallion might be made of it in wax! It was an earthly thought; but when you recall the delicate features, pure complexion, and saintly look, of that countenance, you will hardly wonder at the sick woman’s reflection.

‘My letters, or rather letter, from England came in when I wasengaged in writing, and you will not wonder at the blot on the last page.... I feel now disinclined to write at all. My beloved sister, Mrs. Hamilton, has been seriously ill; but, thank God, to-day’s account of her is good.—Yours affectionately,

C. M. Tucker.

TO MISS MINNIE DIXIE.‘(From the Hills)July 4, 1891.‘I am not timid about snakes; but H. has seen four lately, and it is only common-sense to look under one’s bed, as the heat compels open windows and doors. I have only fish-insects and tarantulas at present, but am promised plenty of scorpions, centipedes, and leeches, in the rains. You know I have not your talent for squashing reptiles; and if I called out for help in the unpleasant business, I doubt whether any one would hear me. I rather think that this will be my last visit to the Hills, and that Amritsar will be my Sanatarium in future.’

TO MISS MINNIE DIXIE.

‘(From the Hills)July 4, 1891.

‘I am not timid about snakes; but H. has seen four lately, and it is only common-sense to look under one’s bed, as the heat compels open windows and doors. I have only fish-insects and tarantulas at present, but am promised plenty of scorpions, centipedes, and leeches, in the rains. You know I have not your talent for squashing reptiles; and if I called out for help in the unpleasant business, I doubt whether any one would hear me. I rather think that this will be my last visit to the Hills, and that Amritsar will be my Sanatarium in future.’

The two next letters to Miss Dixie are about the outbreak of smallpox in Batala. She was ‘quite ready to nurse a smallpox patient, should the malady spread.’ And again,—’ Why should I delay my return? As a Missionary, I am liable any day to meet children with smallpox full out. I hope to be with you in about a fortnight.’

TO MISS LANGLEY.‘Batala,July 29, 1891.‘It is very kind of you to ask what kind of things would be most useful here. Forsale, pretty little articles of dress for English children, from one day old to five years, are most readily disposed of. We are afraid of woollen articles, as they are so difficult to keep. White ants are a real puzzle at Batala.... Happily cotton or silk they attack much less. Gentlemen’s neckties, of a fashionable shape, would be likely to sell well. Station-people in India thinkat leastas much about fashion as Londoners do. A few pretty cosies and toilet or tea-table covers would be nice, and some elegant dolls. These would suit for sales. For presents in schools—cheap dolls, gay and rather gaudy; bags, with cotton and tape; kurtas, common gay print, that will wash. I dare say that Miss Cockle could supply a pattern. The kurtas need to be made of Oriental shape, or they would not be worn by the school-children.’

TO MISS LANGLEY.

‘Batala,July 29, 1891.

‘It is very kind of you to ask what kind of things would be most useful here. Forsale, pretty little articles of dress for English children, from one day old to five years, are most readily disposed of. We are afraid of woollen articles, as they are so difficult to keep. White ants are a real puzzle at Batala.... Happily cotton or silk they attack much less. Gentlemen’s neckties, of a fashionable shape, would be likely to sell well. Station-people in India thinkat leastas much about fashion as Londoners do. A few pretty cosies and toilet or tea-table covers would be nice, and some elegant dolls. These would suit for sales. For presents in schools—cheap dolls, gay and rather gaudy; bags, with cotton and tape; kurtas, common gay print, that will wash. I dare say that Miss Cockle could supply a pattern. The kurtas need to be made of Oriental shape, or they would not be worn by the school-children.’

An attack of ophthalmia in her eyes, which must have caused much suffering, is made light of in her letters; and in the same passing manner she alludes to a fall, whereby her face was turned black and blue. The main point in connection with this accident seemed to her to be the kindness and sympathy shown by Batala people, when she went to visit them, and the fact that nobody smiled at her discoloured and swollen features.

TO MISS LEILA HAMILTON.‘Sept. 12, 1891.‘You will see a half-sheet; it belonged to a whole one, but the first half, alas! I have had to tear up; for it gave such a bright account of one, who,only to-day, I have found out has been deceiving us for many months!... Let us drop the painful subject.‘I had a visit early this morning from arealservant of God, dear old K. S.! One thinks of him rather as the learned and pious Pandit, than as the ordained Pastor; he leads such a wandering life. His faithful heart was heavy to-day, from the inconsistencies of professed Native Christians. He thought them better out of the Fold than in it;—so do I, for many are notsheepat all!‘I have not yet heard whether dear Mr. Bateman has recovered. I have written to him to-day. My letter will not cheer him, but he must know facts. Blindness is no benefit. We wantlightandair. Do you know, dear, that we felt our church dreadfully close,—yes, for years and years. The cause was obvious to us ladies. The doors andlowerwindows were often opened; theupperwindowsnever! It was troublesome to get at such high ones; so year after year the bad air, which came from breath, ascended, and had no vent. Last Sunday, after my earnest protest, the windows were opened, and we breathed pure air!‘We are very quiet now; but in two or three weeks will begin the rushfromthe Hills; the season for work beginning, and the season for visiting too.... It is possible that in the beginning of October I may go for a week or so to Futteyghur with sweet Daisy Key, to teach the Christian peasants in that out-of-the-way spot. I think that the quietness, with one choice companion, would suit me better than the bustle of many arrivals at Batala. About the 1st of November I am engaged to go for a short visit to dear Louis and Lettie at Rawal Pindi.... The journey is not a very fatiguing one,as I can go all the way by train. Rawal Pindi is a city at the foot of the Himalayas; there is no mounting up.’

TO MISS LEILA HAMILTON.

‘Sept. 12, 1891.

‘You will see a half-sheet; it belonged to a whole one, but the first half, alas! I have had to tear up; for it gave such a bright account of one, who,only to-day, I have found out has been deceiving us for many months!... Let us drop the painful subject.

‘I had a visit early this morning from arealservant of God, dear old K. S.! One thinks of him rather as the learned and pious Pandit, than as the ordained Pastor; he leads such a wandering life. His faithful heart was heavy to-day, from the inconsistencies of professed Native Christians. He thought them better out of the Fold than in it;—so do I, for many are notsheepat all!

‘I have not yet heard whether dear Mr. Bateman has recovered. I have written to him to-day. My letter will not cheer him, but he must know facts. Blindness is no benefit. We wantlightandair. Do you know, dear, that we felt our church dreadfully close,—yes, for years and years. The cause was obvious to us ladies. The doors andlowerwindows were often opened; theupperwindowsnever! It was troublesome to get at such high ones; so year after year the bad air, which came from breath, ascended, and had no vent. Last Sunday, after my earnest protest, the windows were opened, and we breathed pure air!

‘We are very quiet now; but in two or three weeks will begin the rushfromthe Hills; the season for work beginning, and the season for visiting too.... It is possible that in the beginning of October I may go for a week or so to Futteyghur with sweet Daisy Key, to teach the Christian peasants in that out-of-the-way spot. I think that the quietness, with one choice companion, would suit me better than the bustle of many arrivals at Batala. About the 1st of November I am engaged to go for a short visit to dear Louis and Lettie at Rawal Pindi.... The journey is not a very fatiguing one,as I can go all the way by train. Rawal Pindi is a city at the foot of the Himalayas; there is no mounting up.’

‘Sept. 16, 1891.—My own sweet Sister, I do confess with regret that I wrote too hastily about ——, as dear M. C. does not think him bad, and hopes that he may be useful in time. I was vexed and impatient at my Laura being so worried, year after year.... But I was wrong, dear, I frankly own it! I wonder when I shall be given grace to be really loving, gentle, and patient!‘Poor dear Daisy and I have been sadly tried lately by the wickedness of those in our own compound. We both feel that it will be a relief to get away for a while to Futteyghur, which we shall probably do in the beginning of October.... But oh, let me not be so ungrateful to the Lord, or so unjust to dear excellent Native Christian friends, as to say in my haste, “All men are liars!” Poor Daisy thinks Batala the most wicked place that she has ever been in; and so do I? But precious jewels cometoBatala, though very fewoutof it....‘But I must not write only of trials, love. If you could have dropped in upon us yesterday evening, you would have thought us a very happy party. See Char, in one part of the room, playing at chess with our good Pastor, Nobin Chanda;[132]... dear Babu Singha, the excellent and wise, a special comfort to me, looking on in his quiet benevolent way. At the other side see sweet Daisy, animated and bright, playing at our famous Batala game with a choice set of Natives; ... and last, not least, dear Rosie Singha, our honorary and very steady worker in the Dispensary. I feel giving these kinds of parties a real duty; and they give, at little cost, so much innocent enjoyment. It is well for the Missionaries too to have pauses, in a struggle with so much that is repulsive and saddening.... I think that Rowland is not now actually ill, as he writes about being in the midst of a sermon. I hope that he will be able to pay Batala a flying visit before long.... He has so many Missionary troubles, and we cannot help adding to them. But—‘“Soon and for ever, we’ll see as we’re seen,And learn the deep meaning of things that have been!”’‘Sept. 27, 1891.—I will steal a bit from the morning to write a little to you. We are living rather in a bustle at present; the tide of Missionaries running down from the Hills, rather sweeping over Batala. Dear Rowland is here.... Miss Boyd is here. She is tobe married, please God, next week.... Her visit has been a real help to me, at a time of much Missionary difficulty.... Her Betrothed has been to Muscat, to gather information about the last days of dear Bishop French.... Miss —— returned here on Saturday; Miss Dixie and the Corfields start for Batala to-day. One lady comes here from Amritsar to-day; we are to start her from hence at 4A.M.to-morrow, Tuesday.... I shall be very glad to be quietly off, ... out of a kind of whirlpool. We will have eight at dinner to-day; quite as much as our table will hold.’

‘Poor dear Daisy and I have been sadly tried lately by the wickedness of those in our own compound. We both feel that it will be a relief to get away for a while to Futteyghur, which we shall probably do in the beginning of October.... But oh, let me not be so ungrateful to the Lord, or so unjust to dear excellent Native Christian friends, as to say in my haste, “All men are liars!” Poor Daisy thinks Batala the most wicked place that she has ever been in; and so do I? But precious jewels cometoBatala, though very fewoutof it....

‘But I must not write only of trials, love. If you could have dropped in upon us yesterday evening, you would have thought us a very happy party. See Char, in one part of the room, playing at chess with our good Pastor, Nobin Chanda;[132]... dear Babu Singha, the excellent and wise, a special comfort to me, looking on in his quiet benevolent way. At the other side see sweet Daisy, animated and bright, playing at our famous Batala game with a choice set of Natives; ... and last, not least, dear Rosie Singha, our honorary and very steady worker in the Dispensary. I feel giving these kinds of parties a real duty; and they give, at little cost, so much innocent enjoyment. It is well for the Missionaries too to have pauses, in a struggle with so much that is repulsive and saddening.... I think that Rowland is not now actually ill, as he writes about being in the midst of a sermon. I hope that he will be able to pay Batala a flying visit before long.... He has so many Missionary troubles, and we cannot help adding to them. But—

‘“Soon and for ever, we’ll see as we’re seen,And learn the deep meaning of things that have been!”’

‘“Soon and for ever, we’ll see as we’re seen,

And learn the deep meaning of things that have been!”’

‘Sept. 27, 1891.—I will steal a bit from the morning to write a little to you. We are living rather in a bustle at present; the tide of Missionaries running down from the Hills, rather sweeping over Batala. Dear Rowland is here.... Miss Boyd is here. She is tobe married, please God, next week.... Her visit has been a real help to me, at a time of much Missionary difficulty.... Her Betrothed has been to Muscat, to gather information about the last days of dear Bishop French.... Miss —— returned here on Saturday; Miss Dixie and the Corfields start for Batala to-day. One lady comes here from Amritsar to-day; we are to start her from hence at 4A.M.to-morrow, Tuesday.... I shall be very glad to be quietly off, ... out of a kind of whirlpool. We will have eight at dinner to-day; quite as much as our table will hold.’

‘Futteyghur,Oct. 11.—I watch with much interest the Christian father, R. M., when at our long Services his little four-years old Z. is beside him. It is lovely to see the peaceful confiding loving clinging trust of the little child, as she cuddles to her strong father, and his gentle tenderness to the wee girl.... It makes me think of our Heavenly Father and us, His weak little ones. But an elder girl of R. M. was bitten by a snake; and then the tender father showed “the hardness of love.” He resolutely cut out the poisoned part with a penknife. The poor child screamed terribly, but still the parent cut on. I dare say that his own heart felt gashed. The child was saved. O when our Heavenly Father thus wounds to save, may we have grace to lie still!’

One would much like to know the rest of this story, and how the poor father managed to keep his little girl from bleeding to death. His courage must indeed have been great.

Later in the same letter, when again on the never-failing topic of troubles and disappointments in the work, Miss Tucker says,—‘O what need we Missionaries have of wisdom! We are so liable to make mistakes.’

TO —— ——‘Oct. 24, 1891.‘I was in Sikh villages this morning. The Sikhs are more friendly than the Muhammadans. I have often told them that if their respectable Guru Nanak were here on Earth now, he would probably become a Christian. I said that I had heard that there was something about our Lord in the Granth. The Sikh with whom I was conversing at once gave me the “Slok,” and translated its difficult antique Panjabi. This is the Slok in English; “That Cutter ofdemons’ heads, the world’s revered Jesus!” The Sikh said that “Isa” (Jesus) was thought by them to be “Ishur,—God Almighty.” I replied that we too called Jesus, God!’

TO —— ——

‘Oct. 24, 1891.

‘I was in Sikh villages this morning. The Sikhs are more friendly than the Muhammadans. I have often told them that if their respectable Guru Nanak were here on Earth now, he would probably become a Christian. I said that I had heard that there was something about our Lord in the Granth. The Sikh with whom I was conversing at once gave me the “Slok,” and translated its difficult antique Panjabi. This is the Slok in English; “That Cutter ofdemons’ heads, the world’s revered Jesus!” The Sikh said that “Isa” (Jesus) was thought by them to be “Ishur,—God Almighty.” I replied that we too called Jesus, God!’

TO MRS. HAMILTON.‘Oct. 30.—Many many thanks, mine own sweet Sister, for yours of the 8th, and all your loving thought for Char.’s comfort. You would keep the bird in a golden cage, lined with soft fur! But Char. is a bit of a wild bird, and likes to fly about freely. The fur will be delicious on cold mornings and evenings; but to wear it all day, even in December, would feel exhaustingly warm. One needs to adapt oneself perpetually to the changes of temperature in December and January; this needs a little Indian experience and common-sense. The want of these two things is one cause of Indian break-downs. Inexperienced Missionaries think it safe to do in India what they have done in old England! If you consider, love, that I have kept my health, with some few interruptions, for almost sixteen years in India, you may allow that I am a fair manager of it. I am thought rather a wonder.‘As for having “a really nice capable maid to wait upon” me;—O dear!—dear—DEAR!! I might fill a whole line with such exclamations, to express my almosthorrorat such a proposal! Europeans, except good working Missionaries, who canhelp, are dreadful anxieties and troubles. An Englishwoman in service is always apossibleinvalid, and aprobablegrumbler. I never in my life could stand a person running after me and watching me. I have an ayah to attend to my room,—and could have plenty of darzies to mend my clothes, but I prefer doing a little stitching myself. I am not always tumbling down like a ninepin,—but I wouldprefertumbling once or twice a month to having any one always watching me. Dear Minnie insists on handing me to my room at night. You must remember that I am the adopted Aunt of a Doctor Miss Sahiba.‘This is rather a frisky note, darling. When I am arealinvalid, I am said to be a good one; but I am strongly averse to becoming one when I am in fair health.... I know how dear Laura and Leila would constantly be putting soft fetters of love round me; but they would find me an obstreperous bird. I should break the fetters by sudden astonishing efforts,—as I fled from the Doctor lady who came from Amritsar. I knew that the Weitbrechts wanted her to see me. After breakfast she went with Dr. W. into his study, to lookat something. I saw my opportunity, hurried down the long stair, and into my duli;—‘“They’re gone! she’s gone,—over, etc.”I knew that I was safe, as Batala has twelve entrances; and no one could tell which I had taken. It was rare fun, and seemed to do me more good than physic could have done. So take no anxious thought about me, love.’

TO MRS. HAMILTON.

‘Oct. 30.—Many many thanks, mine own sweet Sister, for yours of the 8th, and all your loving thought for Char.’s comfort. You would keep the bird in a golden cage, lined with soft fur! But Char. is a bit of a wild bird, and likes to fly about freely. The fur will be delicious on cold mornings and evenings; but to wear it all day, even in December, would feel exhaustingly warm. One needs to adapt oneself perpetually to the changes of temperature in December and January; this needs a little Indian experience and common-sense. The want of these two things is one cause of Indian break-downs. Inexperienced Missionaries think it safe to do in India what they have done in old England! If you consider, love, that I have kept my health, with some few interruptions, for almost sixteen years in India, you may allow that I am a fair manager of it. I am thought rather a wonder.

‘As for having “a really nice capable maid to wait upon” me;—O dear!—dear—DEAR!! I might fill a whole line with such exclamations, to express my almosthorrorat such a proposal! Europeans, except good working Missionaries, who canhelp, are dreadful anxieties and troubles. An Englishwoman in service is always apossibleinvalid, and aprobablegrumbler. I never in my life could stand a person running after me and watching me. I have an ayah to attend to my room,—and could have plenty of darzies to mend my clothes, but I prefer doing a little stitching myself. I am not always tumbling down like a ninepin,—but I wouldprefertumbling once or twice a month to having any one always watching me. Dear Minnie insists on handing me to my room at night. You must remember that I am the adopted Aunt of a Doctor Miss Sahiba.

‘This is rather a frisky note, darling. When I am arealinvalid, I am said to be a good one; but I am strongly averse to becoming one when I am in fair health.... I know how dear Laura and Leila would constantly be putting soft fetters of love round me; but they would find me an obstreperous bird. I should break the fetters by sudden astonishing efforts,—as I fled from the Doctor lady who came from Amritsar. I knew that the Weitbrechts wanted her to see me. After breakfast she went with Dr. W. into his study, to lookat something. I saw my opportunity, hurried down the long stair, and into my duli;—

‘“They’re gone! she’s gone,—over, etc.”

I knew that I was safe, as Batala has twelve entrances; and no one could tell which I had taken. It was rare fun, and seemed to do me more good than physic could have done. So take no anxious thought about me, love.’

The being ‘handed to her room at night’ was found to be a necessity in her old age. After spending the evening in Sonnenschein with the younger ladies,—generally either reading aloud, or playing games,—she had to go out into the front verandah, and to pass along it till she reached the door of her own little ‘Sunset’ dwelling. If alone, she was apt to stumble, or to run against something, and the regular plan was adopted of either Miss Dixie or one other of her nieces always accompanying the older lady, on this small nightly pilgrimage.

TO MISS LAURA VERONICA TUCKER.‘Nov. 18, 1891.‘Oh, dearest Laura Veronica, what a warm capital web you have spread for her whom you call Fairy Frisket. Certainly I look very unlike afairy; and a very comfy rug is far more suitable for me than gossamer wings or glittering wand! A bibi expressed surprise to-day that a weak old woman could sing; but I told her that I sing every day in my life. If I stopped for a week, perhaps my throat might find out my age! I must not give it a chance of so doing. The same with my feet; the dear kind E——s were always offering me a drive, and I often took one with L.; but—oh, my friends, Misses Feet, you had to do your work too. No laziness tolerated; or you might presume to fancy yourselves antiquated. Now I am back in harness again, have been to the city to-day, and intend to visit a village-school to-morrow, unless Daisy Key go instead. She is far better at teaching than I am. But I am afraid that I have not yet thanked my sweet niece for the capital rug. I do so now with a kind kiss....‘Yesterday, in the railway carriage, I offered a wee book by Spurgeon to a tall big man, connected with the railway department. He asked me immediately if I were related to ——, and gave hisopinion that —— was a real good man. My frank companion expressed, however, a general dislike to Missionaries. “Why do you not like us?” I asked mildly. He had evidently not been fortunate in some that he had known,—their names were not familiar to me. He disliked their preferring working on Natives instead of their own countrymen, and evidently thought them too comfortable! But whatcanI do, when my dear relatives send such charming gifts to your attached old Auntie Char?’

TO MISS LAURA VERONICA TUCKER.

‘Nov. 18, 1891.

‘Oh, dearest Laura Veronica, what a warm capital web you have spread for her whom you call Fairy Frisket. Certainly I look very unlike afairy; and a very comfy rug is far more suitable for me than gossamer wings or glittering wand! A bibi expressed surprise to-day that a weak old woman could sing; but I told her that I sing every day in my life. If I stopped for a week, perhaps my throat might find out my age! I must not give it a chance of so doing. The same with my feet; the dear kind E——s were always offering me a drive, and I often took one with L.; but—oh, my friends, Misses Feet, you had to do your work too. No laziness tolerated; or you might presume to fancy yourselves antiquated. Now I am back in harness again, have been to the city to-day, and intend to visit a village-school to-morrow, unless Daisy Key go instead. She is far better at teaching than I am. But I am afraid that I have not yet thanked my sweet niece for the capital rug. I do so now with a kind kiss....

‘Yesterday, in the railway carriage, I offered a wee book by Spurgeon to a tall big man, connected with the railway department. He asked me immediately if I were related to ——, and gave hisopinion that —— was a real good man. My frank companion expressed, however, a general dislike to Missionaries. “Why do you not like us?” I asked mildly. He had evidently not been fortunate in some that he had known,—their names were not familiar to me. He disliked their preferring working on Natives instead of their own countrymen, and evidently thought them too comfortable! But whatcanI do, when my dear relatives send such charming gifts to your attached old Auntie Char?’

TO MR. AND MRS. ST. GEORGE TUCKER.‘Dec. 12, 1891.‘Your very handsome and very kind—onlytoohandsome—gift reached me safely this morning; just the right time for the arrival, as the air in the morning is very keen, and then fur is a real comfort. Much has your fine jacket been admired,—so “beautiful,” so “grand.” But it does not look unsuitable even for Missionary use. Very many affectionate thanks for this token of your affection. It quite strikes as well as gratifies me, to see how little differencesixteenyears of absence seems to make as regards the loving-kindness of my dear relatives. They do not seem to forget the aged Missionary, or weary of showing her tokens of love.‘We are to have an interesting Ordination Service next Sunday. F. M. and I. U., Converts from Muhammadanism, tried and true, are to be appointed Deacons. We expect the Bishop on Thursday. He will, we hope, lay the first stone of our Mission School Building, so called,[133]on Saturday.... I have begged that the building may be very plain,—dear Mr. Baring gave the money for it.... It is a great matter for some religious instruction to be given to more than 130 boys from Heathen and Muhammadan homes.’

TO MR. AND MRS. ST. GEORGE TUCKER.

‘Dec. 12, 1891.

‘Your very handsome and very kind—onlytoohandsome—gift reached me safely this morning; just the right time for the arrival, as the air in the morning is very keen, and then fur is a real comfort. Much has your fine jacket been admired,—so “beautiful,” so “grand.” But it does not look unsuitable even for Missionary use. Very many affectionate thanks for this token of your affection. It quite strikes as well as gratifies me, to see how little differencesixteenyears of absence seems to make as regards the loving-kindness of my dear relatives. They do not seem to forget the aged Missionary, or weary of showing her tokens of love.

‘We are to have an interesting Ordination Service next Sunday. F. M. and I. U., Converts from Muhammadanism, tried and true, are to be appointed Deacons. We expect the Bishop on Thursday. He will, we hope, lay the first stone of our Mission School Building, so called,[133]on Saturday.... I have begged that the building may be very plain,—dear Mr. Baring gave the money for it.... It is a great matter for some religious instruction to be given to more than 130 boys from Heathen and Muhammadan homes.’

TO MRS. HAMILTON.‘Dec. 21.‘We have been having a busy time.... On Sunday there was the interesting Ordination. To-day the dear Bishop kindly laid the first stone of Mr. Baring’s generous gift to Batala, a building for the City School. A number of Muhammadans and Hindus were present; but the service was most distinctly Christian. TheGloria Patriwas repeated again and again; the precious Name of Christ was not only on the stone, but in the prayers and portion of the Bible read.... At the gathering I saw many interesting persons, bothEnglish and Native.... The Bishop is such a lovable man; gentle, bright, affectionate; showing not a particle of pride. We do not call him “My lord,” but “Bishop.”’

TO MRS. HAMILTON.

‘Dec. 21.

‘We have been having a busy time.... On Sunday there was the interesting Ordination. To-day the dear Bishop kindly laid the first stone of Mr. Baring’s generous gift to Batala, a building for the City School. A number of Muhammadans and Hindus were present; but the service was most distinctly Christian. TheGloria Patriwas repeated again and again; the precious Name of Christ was not only on the stone, but in the prayers and portion of the Bible read.... At the gathering I saw many interesting persons, bothEnglish and Native.... The Bishop is such a lovable man; gentle, bright, affectionate; showing not a particle of pride. We do not call him “My lord,” but “Bishop.”’

‘(Undated.)—Beloved Sister, this is the last Sunday of 1891; may 1892 be rich in blessings to you and your loved ones of two generations. “He leadeth me,—oh, blessed thought!”‘It is good for me to be a while in this quiet place.[134]Batala at Christmas time is too bustling. Merry festivities are more delightful to the young than the old. I expected dear Herbert and Mr. Channing to dine with us; and to my surprise we sat down twelve. It was all right; we should use hospitality without grudging, especially at Christmas time; but you know that Char. has a sorrow at her heart. I retired from the merry games, to prepare for the next day’s long journey. O my Laura, ask for me a gentle sympathising spirit,—‘“To meet the glad with cheerful smiles,And to wipe the weeping eyes.”’

‘(Undated.)—Beloved Sister, this is the last Sunday of 1891; may 1892 be rich in blessings to you and your loved ones of two generations. “He leadeth me,—oh, blessed thought!”

‘It is good for me to be a while in this quiet place.[134]Batala at Christmas time is too bustling. Merry festivities are more delightful to the young than the old. I expected dear Herbert and Mr. Channing to dine with us; and to my surprise we sat down twelve. It was all right; we should use hospitality without grudging, especially at Christmas time; but you know that Char. has a sorrow at her heart. I retired from the merry games, to prepare for the next day’s long journey. O my Laura, ask for me a gentle sympathising spirit,—

‘“To meet the glad with cheerful smiles,And to wipe the weeping eyes.”’

‘“To meet the glad with cheerful smiles,

And to wipe the weeping eyes.”’

Was the ‘sorrow’ here spoken of, the delicate health of ‘her Laura?’ If the sister in India was ageing fast, the sister in England was failing fast. Parted as they had been during sixteen long years, the loving sympathy between them was as fresh and ardent as ever. A dread had long oppressed Mrs. Hamilton that ‘her Char.’ would soon be called away. But though the summons to the elder sister was indeed not far distant, that to the younger sister was to arrive first.

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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