In a letter of September 14 occurs a passage about apparent success or non-success in work. She had perhaps comforted herself from time to time with such thoughts as follow.
Speaking about a certain American religious book, which had been lent to her by one who greatly admired it, and about Mr. Bateman’s opinion of the same volume, she observes: ‘What Rowland most objected to was the American affirming that if you take certain means to effect conversions, the result is as sure as harvest following breaking up the ground. As Rowland says, we cannot even break up the ground without God.... Are we to conclude that —— and —— are truer workers than dear —— spending his strength in breaking stones at K., while the sheaves almost drop into the reapers’ arms at D.? Did our Blessed Lord Himself, Who was always sowing golden seed, reap a very large harvest during His Ministry? St. Peter’s first sermon drew in a far greater number than all the disciples of the Blessed Lord before His Resurrection put together.’
It was evident that, although she must have felt her lonely position, she was gradually becoming used to it; even so far as not at all to wish for a strange young lady as a companion. Mrs. Hamilton had made strong representations to the Society at home of the need of a helper at Batala; and the letters given next seem to have been written partly in consequence of this.
As early as the spring of 1880 Miss Tucker could say: ‘I used to think it rather tiresome when business took both my English companions for a few days away; now I am quite serene if I do not see a white face for months.’ And in November of the same year: ‘As to earthly blessings, they abound; the Natives are my real friends. The Lord gives abundant grace, and cheers me with His Presence; and I have such joy in the companionship of my Bible, that I do not miss the society I should otherwise value. Do not send a helper to me, when many other parts of India need it so much more.’
Again, on September 27:—
‘It is very loving in you to be so anxious for me to have a lady-companion. But, unless a Missionary’s wife, one might far from add either to my comfort or usefulness. To put aside the possibility of her being eloquent,—a late sitter-up,—of a melancholy or nervous temperament, or often ailing,—I really have no spare space for a lady companion. She must share my bath-room, if not my bedroom; and in India this would be very uncomfortable.
‘But why, you may say, should there be more room for a married pair than for one maiden lady? The answer is simple enough. If a gentleman were here, the large family of the Singhas would give up their rooms and move to the Banyans. We must have a gentleman Superintendent.’
Later in the same letter comes a reference to one of the Heroes of her enthusiastic girlhood. Lady Outram and her gallant husband had been intimate friends of the Tucker family; and many a loving message in these later years was sent home by Charlotte Tucker to the former.
‘I have been reading much of the noble Outram’s Memoir to-day. As far as I have gone, I think that the Biographer has done his work well. The Outram of the book is just the Outram who was the admiration of our girlhood,—generous, chivalrous, noble! One feels how much pain that fine spirit would have been saved, had he realised how little it really matters whether good service be appreciated or not by man, if the great Leader accept it,—if all be done as to Him Who never overlooks or misunderstands! To our own Master we stand or fall; let earthly superiors say what they will.’
‘Oct. 16.—Dear, excellent —— thinks that my not having a “Revival” in Batala is because I do not study his favourite author. You can hardly have a Revival unless there has been some life before.... Our work is more like clearing in backwoods,—there are huge trees and boulders cumbering the ground; not just weeds overspreading a garden that once was a little cultivated. Then here women cannot read, and do not choose to learn.... I like Miss Havergal’s Kept for the Master’s Use so much. It is beautiful. But I do not feel with her that it is possible on Earth to have our will exactly one with God’s. Even the Blessed Saviour made a distinction between “My Will” and “Thy Will.” Dear C. T. T., for instance, submitted sweetly to her heavy trials; but it could not be her will, it was her cross, to lose all her nearest and dearest, and see her father ill for so many years.’