‘Oct. 22.—Returned to Batala. Telegram.’
This is the brief Diary notice of what occurred.
The next few months were marked by no very especial events; only the usual ups and downs, anxieties, disappointments, encouragements, of Missionary work. Missionaries came and went as usual; and partings took place, some of which tried her much. Miss Eva Warren, who had spent several weeks with her in 1889, came in November to be a permanent inmate of ‘Sunshine’; no small pleasure to Miss Tucker. But Miss Warren, like so many others, broke down under the Panjab climate; and in the spring of 1893 she had to give up her post and return home.
In April 1893 Miss Tucker wrote to her niece, Miss L. V. Tucker:—
‘Though I have written playfully to your father, I am not in a playful mood. This is such a year of partings for your poor old Auntie. You know about my Louis and Lettie; then energetic Minnie Dixie left us; to-day I go to the station for the last look of the dear, good Corfields ... and their three fine children, accompanied by Rosa Singha, who has been such a help and comfort here. On Monday week sweet Eva Warren, one of my most lovable companions, leaves me.... I do not expect to see her again on earth. Next month Rowland Bateman, my very tip-top favourite amongst all Missionaries, is to start for England. What a blessing it is that there is One Friend Who says, “I will never leave thee, nor forsake”; “Even to hoar hairs I will carry you”!’
A few slight recollections of Miss Warren’s may well come in here. They are of particular interest, being almost entirely of this last year of Miss Tucker’s life, after the death of Mrs. Hamilton. The two had been very little together before November 1892, when Miss Warren returned from eighteen months’ sick-leave, to be again in three months invalided.
‘She was very impulsive,’ Miss Warren says. ‘We used to say of her sometimes that she needed cool young heads to guide her. Her energy was very remarkable. During the last cold weather I was with her, I could see how much she felt the cold, but she would not give in in the least.... Being an Honorary Missionary, she was very scrupulous about not taking any extra privileges in the way of holidays.... My impression is that she had formerly known the language better than she did latterly. In spite of her efforts not to forget what she had learned, some had slipped away from her. She said to me one day: “I speak Hindustani as the Duke of Wellington used to talk French.” “Oh,” I said, “how was that?” “Bravely!” she said. She had a very merry way of laughing, when anything amused her.
‘She said to me once: “I think what is wanted out here is—Missionaries’ graves. Not the graves of young Missionaries, who have died here, but the graves of old Missionaries, who have given their whole lives for these people!” ... She was very humble about her own work, and used sometimes to be quite depressed after reading accounts of other people’s successful work, thinking that she had met with no success.’
Miss Warren relates also how she would not unfrequently say: ‘So-and-so is one of those people who think me a great deal better than I am.’ Her conversation was still very bright and full of interest; the active mind had by no means parted with its vigour. Sometimes she would talk eagerly about old days, and tell stories of the Duke of Wellington, a subject which always aroused her. Or again she would plunge into the topic of Shakespeare’s Plays. Or she would read some of her favourite Spurgeon’s Sermons. Another pet book of hers was Baxter’s Saints’ Rest; and this she read through with Miss Warren. Occasionally still she would read aloud one of her own stories in the evening. Happily, she retained her old love of games; and they must have been a great relaxation after the hard day’s work. Sometimes, when Miss Warren had been reading or studying, she would say: ‘Now you must come and frisk a little!’
The old untidiness in dress had never been overcome; and the mixture of colours was often remarkable. But though the clothes might not be artistically chosen, or put on with great neatness, they were always daintily clean,—no matter how many years they might have been in use.