IN OLD AGE
Letters at this late period of Miss Tucker’s life become so abundant, from numerous quarters, that the main difficulty is in selection, the main cause of regret is that so few can be used. The history of 1891 and 1892 may be told chiefly by Miss Tucker’s details of what went on. Miss Dixie remained her constant companion in the little Mission bungalow1 all these years,—except when absent for her summer holiday, or on furlough. Others came and went, remaining a longer or a shorter time in Batala. Dr. Weitbrecht had settled down as C.M.S. Missionary2 in the place; and Mr. Bateman, stationed at Narowal, came and went on itinerating expeditions.
Charlotte Tucker still lived her life of rigid4 simplicity5; though perhaps certain indulgences, immaterial when she was younger and in more vigorous health, had now become a positive necessity. Long Indian toil6, as well as sharp illnesses, had told upon her; and at seventy she had every appearance of being ninety. Yet, through weakness, weariness, and languor8, she struggled on, and kept up her steady round of work.
The little ‘Sunset’ house, in which she lived, consisted mainly of the following: bath-room, size 8 feet by 8; dressing-room, size 13 feet by 8; the one large principal room, size 24 feet by 13, divided by a screen into bedroom[462] and sitting-room9; and the verandahs. Miss Tucker’s chief room has been described to me by one who spent months at Batala, as, at this date,—‘Rather bare and shabby, and used to have rather an untidy look.... As you went in from the verandah in front, the fireplace was on your left, and a sofa, with a screen behind it, screening off the bed, on your right. In front of you was the little table, where she used to write. I cannot remember all of the furniture; there was not very much,—I think some shelves on each side of the fireplace.’
This does not sound too luxurious10. No doubt Miss Tucker might, without expense, have made her rooms much prettier, but for her passion for giving away. She seldom kept for herself more than was imperatively11 needed. While on this subject, it may be worth remarking, as regards the food of the Missionary ladies in Batala, that the cost of it has been found to amount, on an average, to about eight annas a day,—an anna being worth rather less than a penny. The said estimate applies to an ordinary time, including a certain amount of entertaining of visitors. Probably the cost would be much the same in other parts of the Panjab, unless it were slightly more in large Stations.
A few scattered12 sentences from the Journal may precede the letters of 1891:—
‘April 30, 1889.—Villages.... Sikh bibi very nice. I said, “I am very weak. If you heard that I died, what would you say?” Reply: “Gone to Jesus! Gone to Heaven!” After a while I asked, “Were I to hear of your death, what should I say?” A little delay; then a bibi observed on the kirpa, mercy, of Jesus, and thought that He might take them too.’
‘Aug. 31.—“Faint, yet pursuing,” must be my motto. The two boys from ——, who came to Anarkalli, as if resolved to embrace Christianity, but, being without root, left us again, seem to have done much harm. The Muhammadans more bitter than before. Twice this week I—an aged14 servant of Christ—have been turned away from the Zenanas, to which I went in gentleness and kindness. To-day[463] I was rejected at a fourth.... It is a strain upon the threefold cord of Faith, Hope, and Love, this deliberate choosing of darkness instead of light, Barabbas instead of Christ. We need the prayers of God’s people, and to remember the promise, “In due season ye shall reap if ye faint not.”’
‘Sept. 4.— ... Two places very nice. B. is determined15 to be a Christian13, and teach his wife. Wants Urdu Gospel....
‘Sept. 5.— ... Felt ill; half-blind; yet generally well-heard....
‘Sept. 6.— ... Ophthalmia, but managed to go to Q. five places....
‘Dec. 12, 1889.—D.G. Hindus cross. As I mounted dark stair, heard “Buha band.”[127] However, I ventured up, smiling, and said,—“When you come to the Dispensary, the door is not shut.” There were four women; the two elder cross, not the younger. At first no seat was offered me; then some one said, “Buddhi,”[128] on which a small mat was brought, and the old woman meekly16 sat down. I tried to make my visit pleasant, showed my Golden Tree, and sang. It was a kind of breaking of ice. I took care not to stay very long. When I had risen, the two younger salaamed18. I turned, smiling, to one cross old lady, and coaxed19 her to return my salaam17. After a little while she did so; but I wanted to conquer the toughest also. The younger women listened, much amused, to my polite expostulations on her rudeness. At last the old hand went up to the brow, and I departed, contented20. The ice was broken. One can go again.’
‘Dec. 25, Christmas, 1889.—Nice. D., B., and children, made catechumens.’
‘Dec. 27.—The best day, I think, that I have ever had in Zenanas.... N. B., A very nice visit. Two fine young men, and at least seven women of various ages, appeared pleased, interested, and without any bigotry21. So much inclined towards Christianity did one man in particular seem, that I spoke22 of the advantage of a united family accepting the Truth, and expressed a hope that all would come out. “Sat!”[129] echoed the Hindu heartily23, throwing up one of his hands, as though to give force to the word.’
‘June 29, 1890.—I have, three times in as many weeks, been able freely to show a Bible picture in Islami schools, and speak of Christ. To-day, as I walked in the streets, twice tradesmen in their little shops wished to see my picture. I stopped, and others gathered round, whilst I explained.’
[464]
‘Sept. 2, 1890.... K., she sad. Seems to regret death of her poor young S., whom she kept such a prisoner, and of whom I thought, “If any one in that quarter be a secret believer, it is she!” I could seldom get into the house. The sweet S. was quite a prisoner. I have even stood before the window, and sung in the open lane, hoping that S. would hear the sound of my voice, like imprisoned24 Richard. I hear that S. gave birth to a girl, “a very beautiful tiny child,” who only lived for a month, and the young mother soon followed. I have strong hopes that both are with the Lord Jesus.’
‘Feb. 9, 1891.— ... I have suffered greatly from chilliness25 this cold weather. Perhaps in no winter during my whole life more. Old age. Ague.’
‘March 25, 1891.—Song. W. B. Buckle26; but my best hearer was R. L., very interesting schoolboy. He met me at my first Zenana, and followed me to all the others. He was so nice,—even singing bhajans—that I thought at first that he must have learned at the Plough. With interest, amid interruptions from women, listened to story of the three Jews in the furnace, and told it afterwards in another Zenana. He was a help to me, explaining the Buckle, etc., very nicely. When the subject was Christ’s Ascension, the boy said that He had gone up to God Almighty27. I intend to write out the song for the dear fellow.... His heart seemed so impressionable, and his face brightened at the thought of the Crown to be given to “those who believe in Jesus.” “I want to be a Christian,” he said in English. Lord, bless him. Give him the Crown.’
‘April 13, 1891.... R. E. took me into her arms; felt so slim encircled by them. I noticed a quantity of jewels on her arms. She popped her bare feet on my knee,—I was seated on the ground,—to show me the jewels on them. Her amount of clothing was by no means proportionate. Presently down went her forehead on my lap. I silently hoped that there was not much oil on her hair.’
‘May 14.—Hindus very nice. My A. B., cheerful-looking C. D., another whom I do not know so well, E. F. These three all hope to meet me in Heaven. When I said to C. D., “But how can we go? We are sinners!”—her simple reply was, “Jesus Christ, Guide.” I have hopes of these three.’
[465]
‘May 15.—F. G., nice intelligent man. I was surprised at a little boy, H. I., being able to read. Gave him hymn-book. Was much followed about by boys....’
‘May 25, 1891.... Felt the weight of years much. Work a struggle! Lord, help me!...’
‘June 4.... L. very nice. When I said that she was patient, poor dying hand pointed28 upwards29. Peace on face. Many listened....’
‘June 22.... I am to start to-day for Dalhousie. Feel old and rather worn out. If I live to 1892 must not stay down[130] so long....’
‘Aug 14, 1891.... I sat outside with Bibis, in front of ——‘s house. The door half open, behind it pretty smiling young Bibi, who again and again silently made signs to me to come in. Did so, and sat beside her. She did not utter one word, but by her looks tried to show me that she received the Word, and believed. She only said “Salaam,” when I left. I read to her of Christ being the Good Shepherd, His own words.’
‘Dec. 24.—J. ill; sweet. Told me that, sitting up in bed, she saw beings come in, clothed in white shining raiment. Felt frightened. Asked why they did not speak. Afterwards fell asleep, and dreamed of being taken to a beautiful place. She is, we think, a true believer, confesses herself sinful, and looks to Christ for salvation30. Asked her if she would like baptism. “Yes.” “Would your husband allow it?” “No.”’
These are specimens31 of the longer entries. The majority are exceedingly brief, consisting for the most part of names, initials, and single words. Letters to Mrs. Hamilton in the early part of 1891 are unusually few: not that the usual number were not written, but few have been kept. In the spring of that year there was some discussion as to the name of ‘The Plough School,’—her own favourite name for the School, which meant much to her. One cannot but regret that any stir should have been made about the matter, when she had been the ‘mother’ of the school. The criticism having been put forward, however needlessly, she wrote to Mr. Baring:—
‘By-the-by, the name “Plough” is objected to, as sounding like a public-house.... How could we choose a name that would signify[466] entire dependence32 on God?... The Plough appears to be flourishing. Boys come to it even from what we call the large Government School. Numbers have arisen to about 113. To-day I had no fewer than seven rather superior boys from the Plough. They come for religious conversation and Bible pictures.’
On the 17th of June 1891 she wrote to Mrs. Gardiner about the recent death of that remarkable33 man, Bishop34 French,—no longer holding the position of a Bishop, but working as a simple Missionary.
‘My dear Mrs. Gardiner,—Though June in the plains is not the most favourable35 month for letter-writing, especially to a Septuagenarian, I will not let your kind note remain longer unanswered.
‘Yes, indeed, our late loved Bishop French was a saint, one whose memory is sweet, whose example is lofty. You will have seen the article in the Panjab Mission News. I think that it was written by Rowland Bateman, who, so like himself, feels not having rushed off in all the heat, to have been at the side of his venerated36 Friend, left alone in a land of strangers. But the dear Saint was not alone! What a glorious ending to his beautiful course! He reminds one, when dying in the grapple with Muhammadanism in the very home of its birth, of the Swiss hero, who broke the phalanx of the enemy by clasping the spears of the foremost in his arms, and so receiving them into his breast.
“‘Make way for liberty,’ he cried;
‘Make way for liberty!’—and died.”
‘Of course there will be a Memoir37 of Bishop French,—but where is the Boswell competent to write it? Who could give all the delicate touches, needed for a perfect portrait of one with so many idiosyncrasies?
‘How well I remember the dear Bishop coming all the way from Lahore,—when there was no railway,—to visit me, when I was supposed to be dying.[131] He sat by my bedside, gently talking. I do not remember that I said anything to him. I was looking up at his face, and thinking what a lovely medallion might be made of it in wax! It was an earthly thought; but when you recall the delicate features, pure complexion38, and saintly look, of that countenance39, you will hardly wonder at the sick woman’s reflection.
‘My letters, or rather letter, from England came in when I was[467] engaged in writing, and you will not wonder at the blot40 on the last page.... I feel now disinclined to write at all. My beloved sister, Mrs. Hamilton, has been seriously ill; but, thank God, to-day’s account of her is good.—Yours affectionately,
C. M. Tucker.
TO MISS MINNIE DIXIE.
‘(From the Hills) July 4, 1891.
‘I am not timid about snakes; but H. has seen four lately, and it is only common-sense to look under one’s bed, as the heat compels open windows and doors. I have only fish-insects and tarantulas at present, but am promised plenty of scorpions41, centipedes, and leeches42, in the rains. You know I have not your talent for squashing reptiles43; and if I called out for help in the unpleasant business, I doubt whether any one would hear me. I rather think that this will be my last visit to the Hills, and that Amritsar will be my Sanatarium in future.’
The two next letters to Miss Dixie are about the outbreak of smallpox44 in Batala. She was ‘quite ready to nurse a smallpox patient, should the malady45 spread.’ And again,—’ Why should I delay my return? As a Missionary, I am liable any day to meet children with smallpox full out. I hope to be with you in about a fortnight.’
TO MISS LANGLEY.
‘Batala, July 29, 1891.
‘It is very kind of you to ask what kind of things would be most useful here. For sale, pretty little articles of dress for English children, from one day old to five years, are most readily disposed of. We are afraid of woollen articles, as they are so difficult to keep. White ants are a real puzzle at Batala.... Happily cotton or silk they attack much less. Gentlemen’s neckties, of a fashionable shape, would be likely to sell well. Station-people in India think at least as much about fashion as Londoners do. A few pretty cosies46 and toilet or tea-table covers would be nice, and some elegant dolls. These would suit for sales. For presents in schools—cheap dolls, gay and rather gaudy47; bags, with cotton and tape; kurtas, common gay print, that will wash. I dare say that Miss Cockle could supply a pattern. The kurtas need to be made of Oriental shape, or they would not be worn by the school-children.’
[468]
An attack of ophthalmia in her eyes, which must have caused much suffering, is made light of in her letters; and in the same passing manner she alludes48 to a fall, whereby her face was turned black and blue. The main point in connection with this accident seemed to her to be the kindness and sympathy shown by Batala people, when she went to visit them, and the fact that nobody smiled at her discoloured and swollen49 features.
TO MISS LEILA HAMILTON.
‘Sept. 12, 1891.
‘You will see a half-sheet; it belonged to a whole one, but the first half, alas50! I have had to tear up; for it gave such a bright account of one, who, only to-day, I have found out has been deceiving us for many months!... Let us drop the painful subject.
‘I had a visit early this morning from a real servant of God, dear old K. S.! One thinks of him rather as the learned and pious51 Pandit, than as the ordained52 Pastor53; he leads such a wandering life. His faithful heart was heavy to-day, from the inconsistencies of professed54 Native Christians55. He thought them better out of the Fold than in it;—so do I, for many are not sheep at all!
‘I have not yet heard whether dear Mr. Bateman has recovered. I have written to him to-day. My letter will not cheer him, but he must know facts. Blindness is no benefit. We want light and air. Do you know, dear, that we felt our church dreadfully close,—yes, for years and years. The cause was obvious to us ladies. The doors and lower windows were often opened; the upper windows never! It was troublesome to get at such high ones; so year after year the bad air, which came from breath, ascended57, and had no vent7. Last Sunday, after my earnest protest, the windows were opened, and we breathed pure air!
‘We are very quiet now; but in two or three weeks will begin the rush from the Hills; the season for work beginning, and the season for visiting too.... It is possible that in the beginning of October I may go for a week or so to Futteyghur with sweet Daisy Key, to teach the Christian peasants in that out-of-the-way spot. I think that the quietness, with one choice companion, would suit me better than the bustle58 of many arrivals at Batala. About the 1st of November I am engaged to go for a short visit to dear Louis and Lettie at Rawal Pindi.... The journey is not a very fatiguing59 one,[469] as I can go all the way by train. Rawal Pindi is a city at the foot of the Himalayas; there is no mounting up.’
‘Sept. 16, 1891.—My own sweet Sister, I do confess with regret that I wrote too hastily about ——, as dear M. C. does not think him bad, and hopes that he may be useful in time. I was vexed60 and impatient at my Laura being so worried, year after year.... But I was wrong, dear, I frankly61 own it! I wonder when I shall be given grace to be really loving, gentle, and patient!
‘Poor dear Daisy and I have been sadly tried lately by the wickedness of those in our own compound. We both feel that it will be a relief to get away for a while to Futteyghur, which we shall probably do in the beginning of October.... But oh, let me not be so ungrateful to the Lord, or so unjust to dear excellent Native Christian friends, as to say in my haste, “All men are liars62!” Poor Daisy thinks Batala the most wicked place that she has ever been in; and so do I? But precious jewels come to Batala, though very few out of it....
‘But I must not write only of trials, love. If you could have dropped in upon us yesterday evening, you would have thought us a very happy party. See Char3, in one part of the room, playing at chess with our good Pastor, Nobin Chanda;[132] ... dear Babu Singha, the excellent and wise, a special comfort to me, looking on in his quiet benevolent63 way. At the other side see sweet Daisy, animated64 and bright, playing at our famous Batala game with a choice set of Natives; ... and last, not least, dear Rosie Singha, our honorary and very steady worker in the Dispensary. I feel giving these kinds of parties a real duty; and they give, at little cost, so much innocent enjoyment65. It is well for the Missionaries66 too to have pauses, in a struggle with so much that is repulsive67 and saddening.... I think that Rowland is not now actually ill, as he writes about being in the midst of a sermon. I hope that he will be able to pay Batala a flying visit before long.... He has so many Missionary troubles, and we cannot help adding to them. But—
‘“Soon and for ever, we’ll see as we’re seen,
And learn the deep meaning of things that have been!”’
‘Sept. 27, 1891.—I will steal a bit from the morning to write a little to you. We are living rather in a bustle at present; the tide of Missionaries running down from the Hills, rather sweeping68 over Batala. Dear Rowland is here.... Miss Boyd is here. She is to[470] be married, please God, next week.... Her visit has been a real help to me, at a time of much Missionary difficulty.... Her Betrothed69 has been to Muscat, to gather information about the last days of dear Bishop French.... Miss —— returned here on Saturday; Miss Dixie and the Corfields start for Batala to-day. One lady comes here from Amritsar to-day; we are to start her from hence at 4 A.M. to-morrow, Tuesday.... I shall be very glad to be quietly off, ... out of a kind of whirlpool. We will have eight at dinner to-day; quite as much as our table will hold.’
‘Futteyghur, Oct. 11.—I watch with much interest the Christian father, R. M., when at our long Services his little four-years old Z. is beside him. It is lovely to see the peaceful confiding70 loving clinging trust of the little child, as she cuddles to her strong father, and his gentle tenderness to the wee girl.... It makes me think of our Heavenly Father and us, His weak little ones. But an elder girl of R. M. was bitten by a snake; and then the tender father showed “the hardness of love.” He resolutely71 cut out the poisoned part with a penknife. The poor child screamed terribly, but still the parent cut on. I dare say that his own heart felt gashed72. The child was saved. O when our Heavenly Father thus wounds to save, may we have grace to lie still!’
One would much like to know the rest of this story, and how the poor father managed to keep his little girl from bleeding to death. His courage must indeed have been great.
Later in the same letter, when again on the never-failing topic of troubles and disappointments in the work, Miss Tucker says,—‘O what need we Missionaries have of wisdom! We are so liable to make mistakes.’
TO —— ——
‘Oct. 24, 1891.
‘I was in Sikh villages this morning. The Sikhs are more friendly than the Muhammadans. I have often told them that if their respectable Guru Nanak were here on Earth now, he would probably become a Christian. I said that I had heard that there was something about our Lord in the Granth. The Sikh with whom I was conversing73 at once gave me the “Slok,” and translated its difficult antique Panjabi. This is the Slok in English; “That Cutter of[471] demons’ heads, the world’s revered74 Jesus!” The Sikh said that “Isa” (Jesus) was thought by them to be “Ishur,—God Almighty.” I replied that we too called Jesus, God!’
TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘Oct. 30.—Many many thanks, mine own sweet Sister, for yours of the 8th, and all your loving thought for Char.’s comfort. You would keep the bird in a golden cage, lined with soft fur! But Char. is a bit of a wild bird, and likes to fly about freely. The fur will be delicious on cold mornings and evenings; but to wear it all day, even in December, would feel exhaustingly warm. One needs to adapt oneself perpetually to the changes of temperature in December and January; this needs a little Indian experience and common-sense. The want of these two things is one cause of Indian break-downs. Inexperienced Missionaries think it safe to do in India what they have done in old England! If you consider, love, that I have kept my health, with some few interruptions, for almost sixteen years in India, you may allow that I am a fair manager of it. I am thought rather a wonder.
‘As for having “a really nice capable maid to wait upon” me;—O dear!—dear—DEAR!! I might fill a whole line with such exclamations75, to express my almost horror at such a proposal! Europeans, except good working Missionaries, who can help, are dreadful anxieties and troubles. An Englishwoman in service is always a possible invalid76, and a probable grumbler77. I never in my life could stand a person running after me and watching me. I have an ayah to attend to my room,—and could have plenty of darzies to mend my clothes, but I prefer doing a little stitching myself. I am not always tumbling down like a ninepin,—but I would prefer tumbling once or twice a month to having any one always watching me. Dear Minnie insists on handing me to my room at night. You must remember that I am the adopted Aunt of a Doctor Miss Sahiba.
‘This is rather a frisky78 note, darling. When I am a real invalid, I am said to be a good one; but I am strongly averse79 to becoming one when I am in fair health.... I know how dear Laura and Leila would constantly be putting soft fetters80 of love round me; but they would find me an obstreperous81 bird. I should break the fetters by sudden astonishing efforts,—as I fled from the Doctor lady who came from Amritsar. I knew that the Weitbrechts wanted her to see me. After breakfast she went with Dr. W. into his study, to look[472] at something. I saw my opportunity, hurried down the long stair, and into my duli;—
‘“They’re gone! she’s gone,—over, etc.”
I knew that I was safe, as Batala has twelve entrances; and no one could tell which I had taken. It was rare fun, and seemed to do me more good than physic could have done. So take no anxious thought about me, love.’
The being ‘handed to her room at night’ was found to be a necessity in her old age. After spending the evening in Sonnenschein with the younger ladies,—generally either reading aloud, or playing games,—she had to go out into the front verandah, and to pass along it till she reached the door of her own little ‘Sunset’ dwelling82. If alone, she was apt to stumble, or to run against something, and the regular plan was adopted of either Miss Dixie or one other of her nieces always accompanying the older lady, on this small nightly pilgrimage.
TO MISS LAURA VERONICA TUCKER.
‘Nov. 18, 1891.
‘Oh, dearest Laura Veronica, what a warm capital web you have spread for her whom you call Fairy Frisket. Certainly I look very unlike a fairy; and a very comfy rug is far more suitable for me than gossamer83 wings or glittering wand! A bibi expressed surprise to-day that a weak old woman could sing; but I told her that I sing every day in my life. If I stopped for a week, perhaps my throat might find out my age! I must not give it a chance of so doing. The same with my feet; the dear kind E——s were always offering me a drive, and I often took one with L.; but—oh, my friends, Misses Feet, you had to do your work too. No laziness tolerated; or you might presume to fancy yourselves antiquated84. Now I am back in harness again, have been to the city to-day, and intend to visit a village-school to-morrow, unless Daisy Key go instead. She is far better at teaching than I am. But I am afraid that I have not yet thanked my sweet niece for the capital rug. I do so now with a kind kiss....
‘Yesterday, in the railway carriage, I offered a wee book by Spurgeon to a tall big man, connected with the railway department. He asked me immediately if I were related to ——, and gave his[473] opinion that —— was a real good man. My frank companion expressed, however, a general dislike to Missionaries. “Why do you not like us?” I asked mildly. He had evidently not been fortunate in some that he had known,—their names were not familiar to me. He disliked their preferring working on Natives instead of their own countrymen, and evidently thought them too comfortable! But what can I do, when my dear relatives send such charming gifts to your attached old Auntie Char?’
TO MR. AND MRS. ST. GEORGE TUCKER.
‘Dec. 12, 1891.
‘Your very handsome and very kind—only too handsome—gift reached me safely this morning; just the right time for the arrival, as the air in the morning is very keen, and then fur is a real comfort. Much has your fine jacket been admired,—so “beautiful,” so “grand.” But it does not look unsuitable even for Missionary use. Very many affectionate thanks for this token of your affection. It quite strikes as well as gratifies me, to see how little difference sixteen years of absence seems to make as regards the loving-kindness of my dear relatives. They do not seem to forget the aged Missionary, or weary of showing her tokens of love.
‘We are to have an interesting Ordination85 Service next Sunday. F. M. and I. U., Converts from Muhammadanism, tried and true, are to be appointed Deacons. We expect the Bishop on Thursday. He will, we hope, lay the first stone of our Mission School Building, so called,[133] on Saturday.... I have begged that the building may be very plain,—dear Mr. Baring gave the money for it.... It is a great matter for some religious instruction to be given to more than 130 boys from Heathen and Muhammadan homes.’
TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘Dec. 21.
‘We have been having a busy time.... On Sunday there was the interesting Ordination. To-day the dear Bishop kindly86 laid the first stone of Mr. Baring’s generous gift to Batala, a building for the City School. A number of Muhammadans and Hindus were present; but the service was most distinctly Christian. The Gloria Patri was repeated again and again; the precious Name of Christ was not only on the stone, but in the prayers and portion of the Bible read.... At the gathering87 I saw many interesting persons, both[474] English and Native.... The Bishop is such a lovable man; gentle, bright, affectionate; showing not a particle of pride. We do not call him “My lord,” but “Bishop.”’
‘(Undated.)—Beloved Sister, this is the last Sunday of 1891; may 1892 be rich in blessings88 to you and your loved ones of two generations. “He leadeth me,—oh, blessed thought!”
‘It is good for me to be a while in this quiet place.[134] Batala at Christmas time is too bustling89. Merry festivities are more delightful90 to the young than the old. I expected dear Herbert and Mr. Channing to dine with us; and to my surprise we sat down twelve. It was all right; we should use hospitality without grudging91, especially at Christmas time; but you know that Char. has a sorrow at her heart. I retired92 from the merry games, to prepare for the next day’s long journey. O my Laura, ask for me a gentle sympathising spirit,—
‘“To meet the glad with cheerful smiles,
And to wipe the weeping eyes.”’
Was the ‘sorrow’ here spoken of, the delicate health of ‘her Laura?’ If the sister in India was ageing fast, the sister in England was failing fast. Parted as they had been during sixteen long years, the loving sympathy between them was as fresh and ardent93 as ever. A dread56 had long oppressed Mrs. Hamilton that ‘her Char.’ would soon be called away. But though the summons to the elder sister was indeed not far distant, that to the younger sister was to arrive first.
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1 bungalow | |
n.平房,周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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2 missionary | |
adj.教会的,传教(士)的;n.传教士 | |
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3 char | |
v.烧焦;使...燃烧成焦炭 | |
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4 rigid | |
adj.严格的,死板的;刚硬的,僵硬的 | |
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5 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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6 toil | |
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
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7 vent | |
n.通风口,排放口;开衩;vt.表达,发泄 | |
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8 languor | |
n.无精力,倦怠 | |
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9 sitting-room | |
n.(BrE)客厅,起居室 | |
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10 luxurious | |
adj.精美而昂贵的;豪华的 | |
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11 imperatively | |
adv.命令式地 | |
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12 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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13 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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14 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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15 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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16 meekly | |
adv.温顺地,逆来顺受地 | |
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17 salaam | |
n.额手之礼,问安,敬礼;v.行额手礼 | |
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18 salaamed | |
行额手礼( salaam的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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19 coaxed | |
v.哄,用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 );巧言骗取;哄劝,劝诱 | |
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20 contented | |
adj.满意的,安心的,知足的 | |
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21 bigotry | |
n.偏见,偏执,持偏见的行为[态度]等 | |
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22 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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23 heartily | |
adv.衷心地,诚恳地,十分,很 | |
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24 imprisoned | |
下狱,监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25 chilliness | |
n.寒冷,寒意,严寒 | |
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26 buckle | |
n.扣子,带扣;v.把...扣住,由于压力而弯曲 | |
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27 almighty | |
adj.全能的,万能的;很大的,很强的 | |
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28 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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29 upwards | |
adv.向上,在更高处...以上 | |
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30 salvation | |
n.(尤指基督)救世,超度,拯救,解困 | |
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31 specimens | |
n.样品( specimen的名词复数 );范例;(化验的)抽样;某种类型的人 | |
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32 dependence | |
n.依靠,依赖;信任,信赖;隶属 | |
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33 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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34 bishop | |
n.主教,(国际象棋)象 | |
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35 favourable | |
adj.赞成的,称赞的,有利的,良好的,顺利的 | |
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36 venerated | |
敬重(某人或某事物),崇敬( venerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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37 memoir | |
n.[pl.]回忆录,自传;记事录 | |
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38 complexion | |
n.肤色;情况,局面;气质,性格 | |
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39 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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40 blot | |
vt.弄脏(用吸墨纸)吸干;n.污点,污渍 | |
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41 scorpions | |
n.蝎子( scorpion的名词复数 ) | |
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42 leeches | |
n.水蛭( leech的名词复数 );蚂蟥;榨取他人脂膏者;医生 | |
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43 reptiles | |
n.爬行动物,爬虫( reptile的名词复数 ) | |
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44 smallpox | |
n.天花 | |
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45 malady | |
n.病,疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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46 cosies | |
n.温暖舒适的( cosy的名词复数 );亲切友好的 | |
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47 gaudy | |
adj.华而不实的;俗丽的 | |
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48 alludes | |
提及,暗指( allude的第三人称单数 ) | |
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49 swollen | |
adj.肿大的,水涨的;v.使变大,肿胀 | |
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50 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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51 pious | |
adj.虔诚的;道貌岸然的 | |
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52 ordained | |
v.任命(某人)为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 );授予(某人)圣职;(上帝、法律等)命令;判定 | |
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53 pastor | |
n.牧师,牧人 | |
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54 professed | |
公开声称的,伪称的,已立誓信教的 | |
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55 Christians | |
n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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56 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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57 ascended | |
v.上升,攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58 bustle | |
v.喧扰地忙乱,匆忙,奔忙;n.忙碌;喧闹 | |
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59 fatiguing | |
a.使人劳累的 | |
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60 vexed | |
adj.争论不休的;(指问题等)棘手的;争论不休的问题;烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 );使苦恼;使生气;详细讨论 | |
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61 frankly | |
adv.坦白地,直率地;坦率地说 | |
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62 liars | |
说谎者( liar的名词复数 ) | |
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63 benevolent | |
adj.仁慈的,乐善好施的 | |
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64 animated | |
adj.生气勃勃的,活跃的,愉快的 | |
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65 enjoyment | |
n.乐趣;享有;享用 | |
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66 missionaries | |
n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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67 repulsive | |
adj.排斥的,使人反感的 | |
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68 sweeping | |
adj.范围广大的,一扫无遗的 | |
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69 betrothed | |
n. 已订婚者 动词betroth的过去式和过去分词 | |
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70 confiding | |
adj.相信人的,易于相信的v.吐露(秘密,心事等)( confide的现在分词 );(向某人)吐露(隐私、秘密等) | |
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71 resolutely | |
adj.坚决地,果断地 | |
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72 gashed | |
v.划伤,割破( gash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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73 conversing | |
v.交谈,谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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74 revered | |
v.崇敬,尊崇,敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75 exclamations | |
n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 );感叹;感叹语;感叹词 | |
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76 invalid | |
n.病人,伤残人;adj.有病的,伤残的;无效的 | |
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77 grumbler | |
爱抱怨的人,发牢骚的人 | |
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78 frisky | |
adj.活泼的,欢闹的;n.活泼,闹着玩;adv.活泼地,闹着玩地 | |
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79 averse | |
adj.厌恶的;反对的,不乐意的 | |
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80 fetters | |
n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 );束缚v.给…上脚镣,束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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81 obstreperous | |
adj.喧闹的,不守秩序的 | |
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82 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
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83 gossamer | |
n.薄纱,游丝 | |
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84 antiquated | |
adj.陈旧的,过时的 | |
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85 ordination | |
n.授任圣职 | |
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86 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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87 gathering | |
n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
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88 blessings | |
n.(上帝的)祝福( blessing的名词复数 );好事;福分;因祸得福 | |
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89 bustling | |
adj.喧闹的 | |
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90 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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91 grudging | |
adj.勉强的,吝啬的 | |
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92 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
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93 ardent | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,强烈的,烈性的 | |
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