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 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 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!