‘Aug. 31.— ... Here closes August, a month of Blessings....’
‘Oct. 28.—Village. P. started for V. But all V.’s inhabitants seemed to have turned out for the funeral of a young man. Probably eighty or a hundred present. I turned to the left, where about forty women and girls were standing or seated on the ground. I repeated twice over to them, not singing, a little hymn which I had made; also the precious verse, “God so loved.” Had not only good listening, but some of the women repeated after me the burden of the hymn. I had chest-cold, so could not have sung without coughing.’
The last page of Miss Tucker’s Diary, which follows immediately after this entry of October 28, is reproduced in facsimile.
Writing to Miss Minnie Dixie on July 21, 1893, she asked: ‘Have you heard that I have a new nephew, Mr. Lefroy? He is Irish, of Huguenot descent.... He is a gifted man, and a devoted Missionary.’ Mr. Lefroy, belonging to the Cambridge Delhi Mission, which is in connection with the S.P.G., has been mentioned in an earlier letter as arguing for over five successive hours with Muhammadans in a mosque. This was probably the latest of her numerous Indian ‘adoptions.’
She was for months in much trouble about the Dispensary, as it seemed impossible to find any one, European or Indian, capable of undertaking it and also free to do so. The attendance had been good; often more than a hundred women in one day coming for help; and Miss Tucker was exceedingly desirous to keep it open. But so many had broken down, or were absent on furlough, that for a while the closing proved unavoidable.
That, from time to time, Miss Tucker suffered from depression and moods of sadness, there can be no question. She never allowed such moods to interfere with her work; but she was not always in a state of high spirits and rejoicing. If nothing else showed this, it would be plain from certain brief passages in her journal, occurring at intervals,—sometimes at long intervals. Such passages as these speak plainly:—
‘1888.—I have suffered a good deal from bodily languor and mental depression.’ ‘1888. Depression has overtaken me. Thank God, not doubt or despair.’ ‘1891. Felt the weight of years much; work a struggle.’ ‘1892. I begin my seventy-second year with a sense of weakness almost amounting to exhaustion.’
But these and others of the same description were exceptional. In a general way her steadfast courage and cheerfulness were remarkable.
On the 30th of August 1893 she wrote to Mr. Bateman in a strain as cheery as ever, despite the weight of years and worries:—