A Lady of England 93

A Lady of England 93

‘_May 15._--I can so well enter into the “thought and anxiety”

caused by ----. His mind is probably in an effervescing

state; but we must trust and pray that, after the froth

works down, something precious may remain. Young India is at

present in a peculiar state; and ---- does not stand alone

in his dangerous love for oratory. You must expect, love, to

see some of the weaknesses of the Native character even in

those on whom our Blessed Religion has made an impression.

With the English--Truth, Honour, and a sense of Duty are

often found even in those _not_ very religious, and it shocks

and disappoints one to find the want of this kind of moral

foundation in some Natives, whose piety one cannot doubt!! “I

must do my duty,”--“Honour bright!”--are __EXPRESSION__s that in

this land need to be taught.

 

‘The Native character is a study. _We_ can hardly disconnect

pious feeling from purity and conscientiousness. One must make

great allowance for those brought up in a tainted atmosphere.

Do not be easily discouraged, love. India does turn out some

really fine fellows; but a school like this is greatly needed,

to begin _moral_ tuition early. We want our flowers to have

stalks and leaves, and not to spread out their petals so close

to the earth as to be defiled by its dust. Let ---- expand his

eloquence in trying to draw ryots[116] to Christ. Close contact

with really hard evangelistic work, if persevered in, would

probably do much to sober his mind. Let him be persuaded that

the Baptism of one true Convert, however ignorant and poor, is

a far higher honour than the plaudits of an English audience.’

 

* * * * *

 

‘_July 3, 1884._--I have had two comical though not very

pleasant incidents.

 

‘I sent dear Mrs. Singha as a present what I believed to be a

bottle of lemon syrup, delicious in hot weather.... When next I

went to the Banyans, Mrs. Singha told me that I had sent her

a bottle of _brandy_! I was astonished,--I, who am virtually

a teetotaller! I could hardly believe it. She produced the

bottle; and, sure enough, it was full of brandy. What a villain

of a grocer must have sold it, thought I, smuggling brandy

in this way.... “This is sure to be trashy brandy,” thought I,

“which I should not dare to give in a case of illness.” So,

in my indignation, I poured it all out on the grass. I also

thought that I would write to good Babu ---- at Lahore, who

had bought the bottle for me, to tell him of the wicked cheat

played on him. Most fortunately, I first mentioned the matter

to Herbert. “Do you not remember,” said he, “that when we

wanted a large bottle, you emptied your brandy into a small

one?” I had perfectly forgotten the fact. O stupid, most

stupid, old Auntie! And I had emptied my bottle on the grass!

 

‘The next incident was also a provoking one. You know that

I have had boils. Well, Herbert said ... that the best way

to stop a boil was, at the very first threatening, to put

caustic to the place. So I bought a bit of caustic, knowing

as much about it as I do of Hebrew.... Just before starting for

afternoon Wednesday Service in the city, I thought that I had

the slightest possible sensation of a boil on my nose. “Not a

pretty place to have a boil on,” thought I; so I took out my

wee grey stone, dipped it in water, and applied it. It did not

burn at all, so I applied it again. Then, seeing a black spot,

hardly visible except through spectacles, off I went to Service.

 

‘On returning home, to prepare to go out to Miss Hoernle’s,

how surprised--I may say almost shocked--was I, on looking in

my glass! A big black smutch on my nose; another on my chin;

and another on my thumb. Washing was of no avail; salts of

lemon none; chloride of lime none; soap useless! I could not

help laughing, I was such a figure; and my Ayah laughed too. I

determined to give it to Herbert roundly for putting me up to

make such a fright of myself.... As soon as I could get hold of

my naughty nephew, who was playing at lawn tennis as happily

as if nothing had happened, I scolded him in Miss Hoernle’s

presence as hard as I could,--considering that both of us were

laughing. At last my wrath blazed into verse:--

 

‘“You told me it would make me smart,--

The fear of pain was slight;

You have not made me smart at all,--

You’ve made me just a fright!”’

 

* * * * *

 

‘_July 10._--You will like to know that I have managed almost

entirely to get rid of those spots, which made me think of Lady

Macbeth, and gave me rather a dislike to the use of caustic;

for one does not like to appear as if one never washed either

face or hands.’

 

In November another sorrow came; the death of Miss Tucker’s nephew in

Canada, Charles Tucker, whom she had visited before starting for India.

He was one of her ‘Robins’ of earlier days; and she felt the loss much.

 

It was in the course of 1884 that Miss Tucker related to her sister a

certain Christian Pandit’s dream. His wife had long been dangerously ill,

and the husband had tenderly nursed her. No other Christians lived in the

village except these two; and no one but the husband had been near the

dying woman for many days.

 

‘I think it was the day before the sufferer’s departure,’ wrote

Miss Tucker, ‘that the Pandit fell asleep; but as he said, “In

sleep I was praying.” He dreamt that he heard a voice say, “I

will take her; she suffers so much!” Another Voice, which he

thinks was a Divine one, said, “Wait!” On waking, the Pandit

went to his wife. She told him that Jesus Christ had stood by

her, and laid His Hand on her head. “How did you know Him?”

asked the husband. “_His Side was red!_” Whether the appearance

was a dream or not, it gave comfort. The sufferer departed at

last in peace.’

 

There is no necessity for any one to believe this, on the part of either

husband or wife, to have been more than a natural dream--a reflex of the

state of mind and thought previously. At the same time, it is undoubtedly

possible that help or comfort, whichever was required, might be sent

through the medium of a dream. Several remarkable instances of dreams are

mentioned from time to time by Miss Tucker in her letters,--occasionally

vivid enough to decide a Muhammadan on the great step of becoming a

Christian. There is many a simple and natural means by and through which

God speaks to the heart; and dreams _may_ sometimes be one of those

means,--especially in ‘Early Church days.’

 

One other instance of the kind can be mentioned here, while the subject

is to the fore. In Charlotte Tucker’s Journal, some few years later,

occurs the following singular little entry, when she is describing a

visit to a certain village:--

 

‘_Aug. 16._--J. R. told me dream of Christ, which he had had

three or four years ago. Indignantly repudiated idea that my

pictures were like Him Who was so much more beautiful. I read

part of description of Christ in Rev. i.; but the old man, with

simple truthfulness, said that _that_ was for the superior

person who had written. He was a poor man; he had only seen the

white dress and beautiful shining Face. I asked if he had seen

it distinctly. “Do I see you who are before me?” he replied.

“So I saw Him.” His nephew certified to J. R. having told him

of this dream soon after having it.’

 

It is very probable that the old man might have been dwelling on the

thought of Christ, consciously or unconsciously endeavouring to picture

the Divine Form to himself; and the dream _may_ have been a perfectly

natural consequence of his own cogitations. But to say that a thing is or

may be natural is _not_ to say that it can have been in no sense Divinely

sent, or that it might not bring quickened realisation with it.

 

The New Year’s Day of 1885 was not altogether cheerful, despite

courageous efforts made, and parties of Indians: children in the

afternoon, seniors in the evening. Two unfortunate Hindus were

accidentally drowned in one of the large Batala tanks; happily not that

tank which lay close to the palace, wherein the schoolboys were wont to

disport themselves. This naturally threw a shadow over the proceedings of

the day.

 

Early in the year came a letter from the Bishop of Lahore to Miss

Tucker:--

 

‘_Jan. 10._

 

‘DEAR FRIEND AND SISTER IN CHRIST,--May I venture to ask if

in the little room you may assign me kindly, during my short

visit to Batala, a little cot may be placed for a brother of

mine from New Zealand (a brother in Christ also), who is always

pleased to _chum_ with me, as he does at Bishopstow also, our

house being full?

 

‘I am sorry to say my visit must be limited to a sojourn with

you from Friday, 30th January, to Tuesday, February 3, as

the Ajnala work hedges me in behind, and Lahore and Amritsar

Confirmations before. May I ask your special prayers, lest this

rather overpowering crush of work may not impair strength of

mind or tone of spirit, both of which I have a little reason to

dread at this season? It is a comfort to know and to be assured

that our Faithful Lord will “stablish and keep us from evil.”

May His peace, and love with faith, be our portion; and then in

the storm we may sing our watchword, “All well.”--I am, yours,

with ever affectionate and grateful regards,

 

‘THOMAS V. LAHORE.

 

‘Affectionate good wishes to your whole party.

 

‘This will, alas! break up my itinerating plan; not for ever, I

trust.’

 

A fortnight later Miss Tucker wrote to her sister, on January 24:--

 

‘You will have seen in the paper that our good Bishop has lost

his daughter. I wrote to him a little note of sympathy which

he was not to answer; but he did reply in his own gracious,

characteristic style. We expect the Bishop here next week for

a Confirmation; and he has asked leave to bring a Christian

brother from New Zealand. Whether the brother be an emigrant or

one of the aborigines, we know not. We are prepared for either.’