‘I had such a golden First Sunday in Advent yesterday.... Fancy the encouragement of seeing B—n, the one Christian convert residing in Batala, and sharing the Cup with him in our dear Amritsar Church. I shook hands with him after afternoon service. I am sorry that when I uttered the two words, “Hamara bhai,”[54] I should have said “Hamare,” instead of “Hamara.” It was a pity that my first word should have been incorrect; but I could not think of grammar at such a moment.... Then I have had such an encouraging note from dear Emily, who is making things straight for me at Batala....—Your happy
Char.’
CHAPTER IV
A.D. 1876
A PALACE FOR A HOME
In December 1876 Charlotte Maria Tucker entered upon the final stage of her earthly career. Final in a sense; for though more than once Batala had to be temporarily deserted, the place was never given up. Thenceforward, Batala became in very truth her home; Batala work was essentially her work; and the remaining years of her life were devoted to Batala.
Having once made up her mind that she was definitely called to this particular post, nothing could withhold her. Difficulties, oppositions, hindrances, prospects of loneliness, imperfect knowledge of Indian languages, increasing age,—all these were as nothing in the way. If she was called, she would go! And Miss Tucker believed that she was called.
Others were not so sure. Mrs. Elmslie wrote on the 8th of December to Mrs. Hamilton: ‘I agree with you that your beloved sister’s power lies in gifts which can be used to perhaps greater influence here than in an out-station. This isolation from European society is not what I should have chosen for one who can exercise so much influence for good among her own countrymen; and whose pen can do more for India than perhaps the lives of many others.’ No doubt this view of the question weighed greatly in the judgment of many. For one who can write books suitable to Indian requirements, there are scores of Missionaries who can with ease learn the Native languages, and who can visit and teach in Zenanas, perhaps far more effectually than A.L.O.E. did.
To lookers-on it may seem that she judged wrongly here; that her eagerness for personal work was a mistake; that she might have done more by following the advice of her friends, and remaining at Amritsar. Advice she had; for Mrs. Elmslie says in the same letter: ‘We have one and all of us tried to dissuade her from going; but she sees the Pillar going straight on before her. And who are we that we should gainsay it?’
Suppose she only fancied that she ‘saw the Pillar,’—in other words, that she was called or led or ordered to Batala? A mistake of this description is not impossible, especially in the case of an ardent and impulsive nature. If so, it was the mistake of burning love and self-devotion; and one can well believe that such a mistake must be dearer to the Heart of our Lord than the correct attitude of those who always decide on the safe and comfortable side.