/X . jr. 
 
 tUe M'hetttogiciti 
 
 PRINCETON, N. J. 
 
 Purchased by the Hamill Missionary Fund. 
 
 G 440 .M39 1892 
 Mason, g. Edward. 
 
 Kound the world on a church 
 iDission 
 

Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2016 
 
 https://archive.org/details/roundworldonchurOOmaso 
 
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ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 ON A 
 
 CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 BY THE 
 
 y 
 
 REV. G. E. MASON, 
 
 
 yr 'rt 
 
 I'f-. 
 
 ( DEC 
 
 1916 
 
 I 
 
 RECTOR or WHITWELL, HON. CANON OF SOOTHWELI., AND A " CANON-MISSIONER 
 OF THE DIOCESE, 
 
 PUBLISHED UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE TRACT COM.MITTEE. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE, 
 NORTHUMBERLAND AVENUE, CHARING CROSS, W.C. ; 
 
 43, QUEEN VICTORIA STREET, E C. 
 
 BRIGHTON : 135, north street. 
 
 New York ; E. & J. B. YOUNG AND CO. 
 
 . 1892. 
 

 r 
 
 ’A 
 
 
 
 F 
 
 t. 
 
 
 
 
 
 ‘“S 
 
 
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 rl'-' 
 
 * 
 
 
TO 
 
 MY DEAREST BROTHER, 
 
 WHOSE SELF-DENYING LOVE AND DEVOTION TO WORK AT HOME 
 ARRANGED (l MORE THAN GUESS, THOUGH HE NEVER SAID IT) 
 THAT I, RATHER THAN HIMSELF, SHOULD EXPERIENCE 
 THE PRIVILEGES AND JOYS 
 OF WHICH THIS LITTLE STORY IS THE RECORD, 
 
 ARTHUR JAMES MASON, D.D., 
 
 I LOVINGLY DEDICATE THESE PAGES. 
 

PREFACE. 
 
 In the year 1884 the present Archbishop of York, 
 who was at that time Bishop of Lichfield, and 
 included in his yet undivided diocese the county 
 of Derby, wrote to my friend, Mr. Charles Boding- 
 ton, who was Vicar of Christ Church, in the city of 
 Lichfield, and is now a residentiary canon of the 
 cathedral, and to me, saying that he had been 
 requested to send two clergymen to preach 
 missions in the dioceses of Christchurch and 
 Auckland in New Zealand, and asking us to go. 
 The call was unexpected and startling. But if 
 any one on earth had a right to utter it, it was 
 our own diocesan. He had the first claim on our 
 obedience. He knew us and our parishes very 
 well, and when, after weighing all the objections 
 we could urge, he unhesitatingly took upon him- 
 self the responsibility of telling us to go, we felt 
 that for us to refuse would be presumptuous (see 
 Appendix, p. 363). 
 
 We sailed from Liverpool on the 4th of July in 
 
VI 11 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 the next year, and we followed the course of the 
 sun “round the round world.” We crossed the 
 Atlantic Ocean and the great continent of America, 
 and, stopping to lunch at the Sandwich Islands 
 and to breakfast at Tutuila, reached New Zealand 
 in the early spring. Our missions in the two 
 islands lasted through the finest summer that had 
 been known for twenty years, and it was winter 
 when we steamed away through the storms of the 
 South Pacific to Tasmania and Australia. Some- 
 where between Brisbane and London we slipped 
 through another spring and summer, and reached 
 home in September, 1886, after an absence of 
 fourteen months. The mission was, I think, the 
 first that had ever been sent to the colonial 
 Churches. 
 
 The New Zealand Church paid our travelling 
 expenses, as well as the stipends of the two clergy- 
 men who took charge of our parishes. It was, 
 therefore, costly ; but the sum we received was 
 not greater than the annual income paid to the 
 incumbent of a city church in the colony. 
 
 This story of our travel was chiefly written 
 during a short summer holiday in 1887. Change 
 and growth are rapid in the colonies. Five years 
 in these young countries are equal to fifteen at 
 home, and there must have been many alterations 
 in New Zealand since we learned to love it. These 
 pages only profess to represent our impressions of 
 the country at the time. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 IX 
 
 Although in writing them I had the benefit of 
 Canon Bodington’s diaries, I could not possess 
 myself of his recollections, and naturally the story 
 has been told from my own point of view. I am 
 afraid that this sad necessity may have given it a 
 tinge of egoism, in spite of my desire to veil the 
 naughty “ ego.” I know that he would not notice 
 it himself, and I hope the more observant reader 
 will forgive me. 
 
 My best thanks are due to my cousin. Miss 
 Meadows Taylor, for selecting and laboriously 
 transcribing from my letters and diaries the ma- 
 terials which I have here condensed ; and to my 
 brother, Mr. W. H. Mason, of Morton Hall, Notts., 
 for reproducing in pen and ink the drawings from 
 my sketch-book. The illustrations are nearly all 
 his work. That on p. 43, although taken from 
 my sketch-book, was copied by me from a photo- 
 graph. The Clematis indivisa, on p. 93, was drawn 
 by him from nature ; and the kiwi, on p. 74, from 
 a stuffed specimen given me by Dr. Kinder, of 
 Auckland. The unacknowledged quotations are 
 from Captain Cook’s “Voyages,” and from the 
 “Diaries” of Bishop Selwyn ; and I have corrected 
 or verified my own impressions of the country by 
 consulting the excellent “Year-Book of New 
 Zealand” for 1886, published by Messrs. Sampson 
 Low, Marston, Searle, and Rivington. 
 
 It is well, perhaps, to add that all the remarks 
 I have made on the advantage and the duty of 
 
X 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 colonization were written long before “ General ” 
 Booth proposed his scheme. It is evident, I think, 
 that he has rightly discerned “ the signs of the 
 times.” It is equally plain to me that the Salvation 
 Army, regarded not as a Society for the conversion 
 of sinners, but as an independent and self-sufficient 
 religion, does not offer a strong and permanent 
 basis on which to build up this important social 
 work. 
 
 G. EDWARD MASON, 
 
 Rector of Whitwell, Hon. Canon of 
 Southwell, and a “ Canon-Missioner" 
 of the Diocese. 
 
 July 4, 1892. 
 
ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 BOOK I. 
 
 THE VOYAGE OUT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 On the 13th of July, 1885, we were steaming 
 westward in the Bothnia. It was an incomparably 
 delicious day ; the sea waveless and like a sheet of 
 polished silver. Although we were four hundred 
 miles from New York, the pilot came on board 
 in the morning at seven o’clock. We saw a cruel 
 shark with black fins cutting the water like light- 
 ning, and the petrels skimming round him. A 
 lovely flying-fish flew on board. I bought it, and 
 sketched it. It is like a mackerel with four wings. 
 The web of its wings is like very delicate gelatine, 
 more transparently clear than tracing-paper. 
 
 The next day was a busy one, our first spent in 
 
2 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND \YORLD 
 
 the New World. And remarkably new it is. It 
 would be quite impossible to mention half the new 
 things that we saw in our forty hours’ stay in New 
 York. All was new. For instance, the waiters 
 are all black. They have such comfortable faces 
 and sleek skins and impossibly-large, rolling eyes, 
 that they look exactly like seals — as though some 
 of the creatures out of “ Wonderland ” had sud- 
 denly proved to be realities ; and we breakfasted 
 on blackberries and blue-fish. 
 
 There are three things well worth notice in an 
 American hotel. The first is the sensible and 
 scientific variety of bread ; the second is, that 
 breakfast is always begun with fruit and cream ; 
 and the third is, that wines and other intoxicating 
 liquors are seldom touched in the dining-room. 
 They may be had, if they are required ; but the 
 guests are not expected to ask for them. Their 
 attention is not called to the wine-card. If they 
 want such luxuries they go to the bar downstairs. 
 
 The streets are full of tram-cars ; and over the 
 tram-cars, suspended in the air about the height of 
 the second or third story, is an “ elevated ” rail- 
 way. The waggons, instead of being heavy and 
 lumbering, are all springy and light, looking as if 
 they were made of nothing, and they are painted 
 all colours. The horses are chiefly white, with 
 flowing manes and tails, and jingling with incessant 
 bells. They are troubled with very little harness. 
 The omnibus which brought us to the Metropolitan 
 Hotel was grand and lofty and balanced on 
 leathern springs. It was very like the Lord 
 Mayor’s state coach. But the coachman did not 
 correspond to this idea. He had no gold lace or 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 3 
 
 powdered wig. He wore no coat ; he drove us 
 with his shirt-sleeves tucked up. He had a straw 
 hat on his head and a cigar in his mouth. 
 
 The streets are all full of telegraph-posts ; not 
 one line, but many lines. The posts are simply 
 trees with the bark off, painted, and leaning about 
 in every direction. Some of them have as many 
 as eight cross-yards, each of them with six or seven 
 lines of wire running through them. These untidy 
 posts are quite in character with the streets, which 
 are roughly paved with large cobble-stones, and 
 often littered with rubbish and encumbered with 
 bales and crates of unpacked goods. The only 
 really neat and quiet street which we observed, 
 and the only one with a well-made, smooth road, 
 was the famous Fifth Avenue, the home of the 
 wealthy grandees who despise the English and 
 copy them. The shops are, of course, all “ stores.” 
 They are like warehouses, very large and roomy ; 
 and each boasts a sign. These signs are very de- 
 monstrative. They do not overhang the passengers ; 
 they contest the pavement with them. They are 
 generally statues — a Highlander, perhaps, or a 
 Red Indian, or a polar bear. Thrones are erected 
 here and there for those princely people who can 
 afford to have their boots blacked. They must be 
 princely, because fivepence is the very smallest 
 sum for which they can get what the “brigade” in 
 London call “ a shine.” In the same way, if you 
 want your hair comfortably dressed, you must pay 
 a dollar. In fact, except at the hotels, which are 
 to be considered cheap, a dollar appears to go little 
 further than a sixpence. How rich the shoe- 
 blacks must be ! I have often reflected since that 
 
4 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 here is a great opening for gentlemen with broken 
 fortunes. 
 
 Policemen, or, as they are familiarly called, 
 “ cops,” lounge about the streets in cool suits and 
 white hats, armed with ugly batons. They are, 
 we were told, chiefly Irish, and are very handy with 
 their official shillelaghs, and are apt in a row to 
 “ fetch you a crack over the head to see if you’re 
 the right man.” But of this we cannot speak from 
 experience. The postmen are like sportsmen ; 
 they wear comfortable grey clothes, and carry the 
 letters in real game-bags. 
 
 What with signs, and shoe-blacks, and goods 
 exposed for sale, and the motley crowd in summer 
 costumes, the streets, though untidy, are remark- 
 ably picturesque. If some things are untidy in 
 this New World, it is because the Americans— and 
 they admit it — are so “go-ahead” that they have 
 not yet had time to stop to finish them. 
 
 The older part of New York is as irregular as 
 London or Rome ; the newer part is mapped out 
 with mathematical precision. The avenues run 
 north and south, and are four or five miles long ; 
 the streets, which may be two miles long, cross 
 them at right angles from Hudson River to East 
 River. Avenues and streets are mathematical, not 
 only in structure, but also in name. For their 
 names are simply numerical. There are twelve 
 avenues ; and, when you have gone down Sixth 
 Avenue as far as the Central Park, you find your- 
 self in P'ifty-ninth Street. How much further 
 these streets may go beyond the Park, and up to 
 what numbers they may run, I would not hazard a 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 5 
 
 There is one advantage connected with this 
 plan, that a slight knowledge of arithmetic enables 
 you to find out how far you have to walk to get 
 back to your hotel. 
 
 W'e crossed the vast suspension-bridge which 
 connects New York and Brooklyn. It carries 
 every kind of traffic across it at an immense height 
 above the East River, and you look down on big 
 ships being towed out beneath you. In the centre 
 of the bridge is a broad foot-walk, with seats in the 
 shade. Beneath there is a passage full of tele- 
 graphs and telephones. On either side comes a 
 line of steam-cars, which run across without an 
 engine. Outside these, again, is a broad carriage- 
 way, making altogether five roads side by side. 
 
 From depot to depot (the word “ station ” is 
 unknown in America) the bridge is a mile long. 
 The view from it is splendid — it is like London in 
 form, and like Venice in colour. The houses are 
 chiefly red, but also white and yellow with green 
 Venetian windows. The rivers and harbour are 
 crowded with shipping. Each line of steamers has 
 its own separate landing-stage, and the water is so 
 deep that the largest ocean-steamers simply come 
 straight in and sidle up to their own platforms 
 without aid from tugs or boats. 
 
 On the bridge, as elsewhere, may be seen original 
 and startling advertisements — here a huge statuary' 
 armchair ; there a seven-league boot ; there a 
 placard in praise of “ Phosphaline,” a restorative 
 for headache and " gone-ness," strong enough, you 
 would be assured, to restore even “ a gone coon.” 
 
 The Americans have a passion for exaggeration. 
 They have produced such extraoi'dinary results 
 
6 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 in so short a time ; their inventions are so sudden, 
 their discoveries so surprising ; and everything they 
 have is so big, such big lakes, rivers, mountains, 
 prairies, and trees ; such big cities, such big in- 
 dustries, such big “ stores,” such big “tracks,” such 
 big “ cars ; ” everything, in fact, is on so great a 
 scale that they naturally take an enlarged view of 
 possibilities ; their imagination overleaps all the 
 difficulties and rushes to a superlative conclusion. 
 They have no desire to deceive, only to astonish. 
 They have the instinct of a Jules Verne. They 
 have the French love of la gloire ; only with 
 them la gloire is not ideal but material. Much 
 that they say is not meant to be taken au pied 
 de la lettre : it is simply their droll humour. A 
 young IMexican was describing to us a curve in 
 a Pennsylvanian railway, which was so sharp that 
 he was thrown out of his berth in a sleeping-car. 
 “You know,” he continued, “the curve is so sharp 
 that you can step from the hind car into the front ” 
 — and, after a moment’s hesitation — “ in fact, there 
 was once a collision,” and then he burst into 
 laughter. Another was explaining inoculation, 
 and he said, “ For instance, Peru is the place for 
 fleas, but, after you’ve been there a few days, you 
 don’t feel them at all.” The Mexican at once 
 broke in with, “ Pve just come from there, and I 
 quite miss them.” A New York merchant, lately 
 returned from travel in Europe and the East, 
 initiated us into the mysteries of his cypher 
 telegrams. One was the word “ kopper.” This 
 was a telegram to be sent to his wife through his 
 partner in business — indifferently from England, 
 Rome, or Smyrna — and meant, “ I am enjoying 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 7 
 
 splendid health. The country interests me ex- 
 ceedingly. The climate and scenery are delightful.” 
 If he wanted to vary the message, he telegraphed 
 “ hoppers,” and the little crooked letter, by the 
 time it reached the delighted wife, had swelled into 
 several more pleasant and reassuring messages. 
 
 Of all the new things in New York nothing is 
 more new than the style of the newspapers. There 
 they are hung in rows on the wall on the ground 
 floor of the hotel — the ground floor, which is 
 quite open to the street, and serves as a public 
 club ; but the difficulty is to find one that is worth 
 reading. You look in vain for anything like the 
 Times, the Morning Post, the Daily News, or the 
 Standard. You see no telegrams from Alexandria 
 or Moscow. You can trace no mention of the 
 burning questions that agitate Europe. You find 
 trade, agriculture, and mining, adventure and 
 amusement, gossip and scandal. Column after 
 column is devoted to sensational stories, empha- 
 sized here and there by half-lines in large print, 
 in which elopement, the revolver, or the dollar 
 plays a prominent part. The fact is that the 
 Americans have no politics, European questions 
 affect them very little. They look on, but they 
 do not mingle. Their political horizon is much 
 the same as their geographical horizon ; it does 
 not extend beyond what they can see from Coney 
 Island on the Atlantic, and from the Cliff" House 
 on the Pacific. They have the confidence of 
 strength and distance, and they are not shaken 
 out of their easy nonchalance unless somebody 
 looks with a greedy eye upon the Sandwich Islands 
 or refuses bait to their fishing-smacks. Some of 
 
s 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 the newspapers have romance in their very names. 
 Two that may be seen on every stall are called 
 the Catskill Mountain Breeze and the Lake George 
 Ripple. We are accustomed to an Evening Star, 
 but a ripple or a breeze is picturesquely novel. 
 
 The perfectly free use that is made of the ground 
 floor of the hotels must be a tempting inducement 
 to well-dressed rogues to make perfectly free with 
 the property they find there. I suffered from it 
 myself. One of them walked off with my umbrella. 
 I know well who it must have been. I was writing 
 a letter in the writing-room, and I placed my 
 umbrella on the table beside me. As I wrote I 
 observed a man seated on a chair not far off, who 
 appeared to be asleep. I remarked that he slept 
 very funnily, with his right eye half open. My 
 umbrella fell on to the floor, and, soon after, the 
 sleeper awoke, and moved his chair round to the 
 side of the table where the umbrella lay. For 
 one brief moment I went to the bureau for a stamp, 
 and when I returned, the umbrella and the sleeper 
 were both gone, and all inquiries were in vain. 
 
 There seems to be a real solid Church work 
 going on in this great city. There ought to be a 
 grand cathedral, like the splendid one built across 
 the water in Brooklyn almost entirely by the 
 munificent generosity of one devout lady. But, 
 in spite of this want, the Church is doing well. 
 Trinity Church is the mother church of New York. 
 It is old and well endowed. The original building 
 dates from 1697 > the present structure is only 
 forty years old. It has six daughter churches, 
 and is the centre of the most important parish in 
 New York. It also supports twenty other churches 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 9 
 
 ill the city. In the parish there are more than 
 five thousand communicants. This large number 
 is no doubt partly due to the elaborate system of 
 guilds which is established throughout this group 
 of seven churches, and is admirably managed by 
 the clergy, with the help of the Sisters of St. Mary. 
 At Trinity Church alone there are the guilds of 
 St. Ambrose, of the Holy Cross, of St. John, of 
 St. Nicholas, and of St. Paul, for men ; and the 
 guilds of the Good Shepherd, of St. Agnes, of St. 
 Mary, and of St. Monica, for women. The guilds 
 form a connected chain, and are so arranged as 
 to protect children from bad influences, and attach 
 them to the Church, and keep them, as they 
 advance in years, still under the care and guidance 
 of good friends, until their habits and principles 
 are fixed, and they become faithful and active 
 Churchmen for life. It is pleasant to notice that 
 the young men are not overburdened with religious 
 instruction, but have their reading-rooms and 
 billiard-tables, and their classes for geometrical 
 drawing and clay-modelling. That the Church is 
 aggressive in the best sense may be seen by the 
 fact that there were no fewer than seventy-three 
 adults baptized in the year, and thirteen hundred 
 children, and five hundred and sixty persons con- 
 firmed. The collections amounted to more than 
 sixty thousand dollars. 
 
 It would take too long to mention all the chari- 
 table and educational works of the parish. There 
 are nineteen clergy, and an imposing and even 
 puzzling array of choristers, servers, acolytes, and 
 crucifers. The church itself, which is open all 
 day for priv'ate devotion, stands in a fine position 
 
10 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 Oil Broadway in a green churchyard overshadowed 
 by lofty trees. It has an impressive interior. 
 The chancel is raised, and is separated by a low 
 screen from the body of the church. There are 
 handsome stalls, and behind the altar is a very 
 fine carved reredos in several compartments, repre- 
 senting the Crucifixion and other scenes in our 
 Lord’s life. There seems to be a great future 
 before the American Church. The American 
 people have a reverence for what is .venerable 
 and peaceful, and, with vigorous work and wide 
 sympathies, the Church may look forward some 
 day to a position as influential in the United 
 States as the position of the English Church is in 
 England, and more. 
 
 To a Churchman this does not sound a selfish 
 hope. The Church does not exist for herself, but 
 for her Lord and for His world. It is through 
 the Church that His best gifts are bestowed upon 
 men. The Church made England and Europe ; 
 and the American Church may make America. It 
 is a glorious opportunity. There lies before her 
 a varied and magnificent material. And, if she is 
 able to rise to the true grandeur of her position, 
 to mould the forces that are struggling around 
 her, to lead the van of freedom, to wed the thought 
 and the faith of the centuries that lie behind her 
 with the life and speech and movement of the 
 future that is crowding upon her, then, guided and 
 governed by the good Spirit within her, she will be 
 able to assimilate all that is best in other kindred 
 forms of faith and worship, and by the compelling 
 attraction of her vigour and her beauty, to lead all 
 who profess and call themselves Christians into the 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 II 
 
 way of truth. A great American Church, sweeping 
 her unresisted sceptre from ocean to ocean, might 
 present to the world such a spectacle as has 
 never yet been seen. It would be a boon to the 
 whole world. “ The people of America ” — I quote 
 from a poet of their own — “are becoming in many 
 respects more intimately allied with the mother 
 country than they were before their independence. 
 Whatever goes to develop such an alliance con- 
 tributes to the prosperity of both countries; and 
 does something for the good of the human race, 
 not to say for the glory of Him whose advent 
 was peace and good will.” The Church subserves 
 “ the noblest and most sacred interests of the Old 
 World and the New, awakening sympathies and 
 strengthening instincts, which, far more than skilful 
 diplomacy, will ensure a perpetual unity.”* 
 
 * Bishop Coxe. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 What geographical blunders it is possible to 
 make! If a drawing-room full of people were 
 asked to name approximately the latitude of New 
 York, how many persons would guess it to be 
 about the same degree as Penzance, and then hesi- 
 tate for fear they should have ventured too far 
 south 1 It really requires quite an effort of faith 
 in Mr. Stanford or Mr. Johnston, to believe that 
 New York is, in fact, in the latitude of Naples. 
 So it is ; and no wonder it is hot in July. In 
 the same way, we are tempted to feel that New 
 York is the capital of America, when it is not 
 even the capital of New' York State. Washington 
 is the political capital. But perhaps we might 
 say that America has tw'O other capitals besides — 
 Boston, the literary and scientific capital ; and New 
 York, the capital of commerce and of fashion. 
 The capital of New York State is Albany, which 
 lies north on the Hudson River ; and not far from 
 it is the w'ell-knowm Saratoga Springs, the Buxton 
 or the Baden-Baden of New York. 
 
 We steamed up to Albany in a river-boat. These 
 
ROUND THE ROUND WORLD. 
 
 13 
 
 steamers are broad barges, luxuriously fitted up 
 with saloons and restaurants, and the decks are 
 roomy verandahs. They are propelled by paddles, 
 and the man at the wheel is in the last place 
 where you would expect to find him — in the front 
 of the funnel, and half as high. It is the same on 
 the bustling little tugs. As they approach they 
 present the appearance of diminutive turret-ships. 
 On the deck of our steamer was a characteristically 
 American notice, “ Gentlemen will not smoke ; 
 others must not.” 
 
 The trip to Albany is a favourite and fashion- 
 able one ; and so it deserves to be. The scenery is 
 very pretty. The names of Rhinecliff and Rhine- 
 beck on the left shore would seem to challenge a 
 comparison with the famous German stream. A 
 better comparison, perhaps, would be the Falmouth 
 River or the Dart, although sometimes the rocks 
 and precipices are bolder than would be seen on 
 these English rivers. The banks are clothed with 
 wood, chiefly cypress, down to the water. 
 
 Instead of feudal castles, there are ice-houses. 
 In the winter the river freezes thickly. Ice-ploughs 
 cut the frozen crust into blocks, which are stored 
 away for summer use. And almost every hour 
 one or two steamboats come puffing and panting 
 down stream with a flotilla of ten or twenty ice- 
 barges in tow. On the top of the barges a little 
 windmill or two may be seen for baling out the 
 water from the melting cargo. The grey Catskill 
 Mountains wreathed with floating mist form a 
 charming background to the groves of cypress, 
 the villas and gardens, the rocks, the boat-houses, 
 the ice-houses, the reed-beds, and the smooth, deep 
 
14 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 water. We reached Albany in the evening, and 
 went by night train to Niagara, and arrived in the 
 morning at the station on the Canadian side called 
 “ Suspension-Bridge.” 
 
 We took a carriage and drove up to Clifton 
 House. It is a beautiful homely-looking house 
 surrounded by cool verandahs, shaded by plane 
 trees and embowered in leaves and blossoms. The 
 view is splendid. The whole range of the Falls 
 is spread out before you in a grand semicircle. 
 The water of the Horseshoe Fall, as it bends and 
 sweeps over the top of the precipice, is a clear, 
 brilliant green. The foam rises high above the 
 river, and forms a dense floating cloud, and makes 
 the air moist and cool for half a mile. The 
 violence of the rushing waters produces an inces- 
 sant storm in the air, and the trees are tossed and 
 blown about as if before a gale of wind. 
 
 The huge volume of the great St. Lawrence 
 River plunges four million tons of water every 
 minute over a wide and irregular precipice, a 
 hundred and sixty feet high. On the right is the 
 vast imposing amphitheatre of the Horseshoe Fall. 
 The abrupt crags of Goat Island, crowded with 
 cedars and with " the gadding vine o’ergrown,” 
 break the white line of toppling water ; and on the 
 left the smaller division of the river gushes out, 
 itself divided into two or three waterfalls, the least 
 of which is larger than the Velino at Terni, or the 
 Aar at Handeck. Beyond them again, to the left, 
 arc broken precipices and trees, the suspension- 
 bridge, and cascades, and veils of dripping water 
 that remind one of the streaming hillside of Tivoli. 
 
 Across the suspension-bridge is a little town. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 IS 
 
 Everywhere were signs of a recent festivity. The 
 state of New York has bought up all private rights 
 on the American side, and thrown the whole into a 
 free park. This public gift was made with much 
 ceremony a few days before we arrived. All the 
 houses were decorated with the stars and stripes 
 and with the red, white, and blue. One window 
 was quite banked up with white lilies. A triumphal 
 arch in the main street bore the mottoes, “ Niagara 
 redeemed free to the world,” and “ New York’s 
 imperial gift to the world,” with the names of the 
 President and of the Lieutenant-Governor of 
 Canada. In order to honour the occasion, Cana- 
 dian troops were desired at the ceremony. But for 
 Canadian troops to set foot on American soil was 
 an illegal act. How to get over this formidable 
 difficulty was the question. Recourse was had to 
 the witty race of lawyers. They put on their 
 spectacles and fumbled over their acts and deeds 
 and parchments, until they found a clause which 
 exactly met the difficulty, by providing that the 
 suspension-bridge might be crossed by “ workmen 
 carrying their tools.” So the soldiers marched 
 merrily across to the sound of “Yankee Doodle,” 
 and burned as much powder in their “tools” as 
 the .solemnity of the day demanded. 
 
 It is certainly a most generous and useful gift, 
 and I hope the state will soon do something to 
 make the park neat and well-kept. It lies along 
 the edge of the cliff between the suspension-bridge 
 and the first fall. At this point a solid rampart 
 of wall has been built on the very brink of the 
 precipice, just where the water plunges down, so 
 that you can almost dip your hands in the stream 
 
i6 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 as it races past ; and a few paces further you can 
 look right down into the gulf full of foam, and 
 mist, and rocks, and wild water. Two hundred 
 yards above this spot a bridge has been thrown 
 across this branch of the river to Goat Island. 
 Along the south shore of Goat Island are several 
 little islands with withered cedars and festooned 
 with tangled vine and Virginian creeper. One of 
 them is called Luna Island. It .stands on the very 
 edge of the precipice. You can stand there, and, 
 looking down, .see on either side the sheets of 
 dazzling foam. 
 
 On the day of rejoicing a woman was drowned 
 here. She slipped off the bridge into the water. 
 All help was impossible. She was swept swiftly 
 down the few yards of rapids, and then sank over 
 the brink. The body had not been found. The 
 water, we were told, keeps the body behind the 
 rocks, rolling it over and over, and playing with 
 it till it is torn to bits, and, at last, washed out 
 piecemeal. 
 
 On Goat Island a staircase constructed inside a 
 funnel leads down to the foot of the cliff. The 
 traveller, wrapped in waterproof, can descend, and 
 thread his way along the plank bridges, which 
 lead from rock to rock through the spray, and can 
 actually circle round and pass behind one of the 
 columns of thundering water. A few yards from 
 the top of this descent there is a most picturesque 
 view of the Horseshoe Fall. The nearer end of 
 the semicircular precipice juts out into the pool, 
 and is seen in profile. The spouting water that 
 shoots over this eager prominence is in dark violet- 
 grey shadow, and stands out, with the group of 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 17 
 
 rocks at the base, in bold relief against the emerald- 
 green and snow-white vapour of the amphitheatre 
 of falling water beyond. 
 
 A little, straggling bridge is built from rock to 
 rock, as far as the top of this jutting cliff ; and, 
 poised on that frail and giddy eminence above the 
 roaring cauldron, you see spread before you a 
 glorious panorama of the great pool, surrounded 
 by woods and precipices and foam. But a more 
 tremendous view — probably quite unique in the 
 world — is obtained by embarking on the Maid of 
 ihe Mist. This venturesome little craft steams 
 close up to the foot of both the Falls in a back- 
 water beside the tumultuous, leaping waves of 
 the main current. As the sun shines upon the 
 Lower Fall, the sight is almost too dazzling to be 
 borne. It looks, both in shape and brilliancy, 
 like one of the grand snow-slopes of Monte Rosa. 
 The resemblance is increased by the sweeping 
 drenching sheets of spray that scud and fly past 
 the boat on the wings of the storm that never 
 ceases to blow, and shut out the blaze of light by the 
 swift eclipse of their folding shadows. Then, again, 
 through a sudden rift in the shifting clouds of mist, 
 the blue sky shines, and against the blue sky far 
 overhead, as if bursting from it, the smooth crest of 
 the fall appears. On goes the boat, right up past 
 Terrapin Rock, into the thunder and the foam, 
 and pauses, quivering like a trembling bird, at the 
 foot of the stunning avalanche, and then slips back 
 to safety, and glides across to the Canadian shore. 
 
 A winding road leads to the summit of the cliff. 
 It is beautifully wooded and rich with flowers. 
 There are shrubs with masses of crimson and lilac 
 
 C 
 
1 8 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 blossoms, scarlet columbine, red elder, branched 
 lilac daisy, green anemone, pale lilac pentstemon, 
 dogrose, pale, without the prominent stamens of 
 the English rose ; strawberries, raspberries both 
 black and red, and ferns. The heat was ninety 
 degrees in the shade. 
 
 In the afternoon we walked down the gorge to 
 the Rapids (two suspension-bridges, one for trains, 
 the other for carriages, cross the river here), and 
 past the Rapids to the Whirlpool. It was here — 
 some three miles below the Falls — that Captain 
 Webb was drowned. It would, apparently, be 
 very easy to swim across the river. But the ter- 
 rible hazard of Captain Webb’s adventure was, 
 that he dared to swim from below the Falls, right 
 through the Rapids, where the water runs at the 
 rate of twenty or thirty miles an hour, and the 
 waves leap up to the height of thirty feet, and to 
 land somewhere on the shore of the Whirlpool. 
 He was last seen alive in the Rapids about a 
 hundred yards above the entrance to_ the pool ; 
 and there he must have been dragged under by 
 the downward whirl of the eddies. We were told 
 by the boy in charge of the tram-car lift that, a 
 few hours before we came, he had watched a great 
 tree sucked under by the cruel water for five 
 minutes — long enough, he remarked, to drown any 
 man. There is no whirlpool such as has been de- 
 scribed by Edgar Allen Poe, in his story of the 
 Maelstrom. There is an almost circular cauldron, 
 composed of wooded precipices. The river comes 
 racing and foaming through the narrow gorge, and 
 charges straight at the end of the pool. Here it 
 is abruptly checked and repulsed, and rushes back. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 19 
 
 in two streams, to the entrance of the pool, almost 
 as fast as it entered, and then leaves the pool 
 sharply at right angles, and winds away in a deep, 
 rocky chasm, towards Lake Ontario. At the 
 water’s edge a good idea is obtained of the whole 
 pool. The main stream rushes from right to left, 
 and then, nearer the bank, the eddy rushes past 
 in the opposite direction. The two currents cross- 
 ing so swiftly give the sense of a dizzy whirlpool. 
 
 No words can describe the rich foliage of the 
 banks. Everything is luxuriant, tangled, and beau- 
 tiful. The tall, straight tamarack pines shoot up 
 to a great height. The hemlock pines grow well. 
 The cedars twist and bend in every variety of pic- 
 turesque shape. Limes, maples, and other forest 
 trees blend their foliage, and the shrubs with crim- 
 son and lilac blossoms, the wild vine and the Vir- 
 ginian creeper run riot over the dead trunks and 
 the rocks, and trail fearlessly in the swift and 
 treacherous tide. 
 
 The whole scenery of Niagara gives a wonderful 
 sense of character. As you stand above the Horse- 
 shoe Fall and look up the river, the broad, waste 
 stretch of water lifting itself up from the horizon, 
 the white, tumbling waves, heap on heap, and line 
 on line, foaming, rushing, leaping, pressing on in 
 endless, furious, and confused agitation, strewn 
 with the bare skeletons of trees, give the same 
 effect as a strong high tide coming in over the 
 flat sands of Caermarthenshire. It speaks of deso- 
 lation, and want, and shipwreck, and ruin, and 
 shivering cold, and useless tears, and cries un- 
 heard, and corpses uncofflned. 
 
 Then turn to look at the fall. The green, smooth 
 
20 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 flood bends and rolls over the precipice in one 
 great, liquid fold, thirty feet thick. There is no 
 hurry, no confusion, no hesitation. It is serene 
 and splendid. It is as strong as destiny and as 
 victorious as fate. There you see the calm grandeur 
 of conscious strength. It is like the sweep of an 
 eagle’s wing. It is like the splendour of a falling 
 star. It leaps, it swings, it rolls straight out into 
 the fathomless air, superbly indifferent to every- 
 thing but its own majestic presence and resistless 
 strength, and the sky, the air, and the rocks tremble 
 as they see it come. 
 
 Half a mile lower, the broad sheet of water 
 might be the peaceful river of Eden. It is abso- 
 lutely smooth, cool, flat, green, unruffled in its 
 sequestered bower by any puff of summer wind. 
 You can hardly tell where the bank ends and the 
 water begins. All the exquisite green of the rich, 
 moist foliage is drawn down in long, reflected lines 
 into the calm shadows below. All is rest, peace, 
 and quiet. You long to bathe in it, to drink it, to 
 thrust your hands into the soft tide. All is rest, 
 peace, quiet. There is just a trace of foam floating 
 in a dreamy line, thick like cream. It only em- 
 phasizes the green and the stillness. This is like 
 some strong nature, which after passion has won 
 peace, and only shows by some line in the face, 
 by some pressure of the lips, what power lies stored 
 away beneath that quiet smile, what tempestuous 
 energies have shaken the past and may agitate the 
 future. At least, it will be so here below the Second 
 Bridge. There, for a mile in that wild gorge, 
 called from poverty of language the “ Rapids,” all 
 is white. The great heaving, rolling waves seem 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 21 
 
 to hold a tournament. They take, as it were, one, 
 two, three swinging strides, and then fling and 
 bang themselves against each other ; then they 
 roll over and look backwards to see where they 
 came from, and roar, and laugh, and frolic, and 
 scramble into shape, and then shout and hurl 
 themselves together again, and leap aloft in a 
 spout of jubilant spray ; then, forward again with 
 a reckless roll, billowing and bounding, one after 
 the other, like giants at leap-frog. Clash and roar ! 
 shake and toss ! wrestle and leap ! batter and 
 splash ! Oh, what a wild extravagance of joy ! 
 too much life to think of anything but the pleasure 
 of it ! ‘ Away and away ! Who shall stop us ? 
 
 No one dares to check us! We have it all our 
 own way ! Here we come, the maddest, merriest, 
 wildest crew that ever rollicked and raced and 
 revelled by night or by day I ’ 
 
 Only one scene more, and that is the Whirl- 
 pool. It is very large, and very deep, and verj" 
 swift, but without emotion. It is no longer pas- 
 sionate, nor pelaceful, nor recklessly exultant, but 
 it is selfish and deliberate. All the experience of 
 the course is here gathered up and resolved into 
 a remorseless, unpitying, cruel selfishness. Nothing 
 can go by ungrasped, untasted. It must pay with 
 its life, and then it may go on its way — but dead. 
 Whatever comes drifting down the tide must be 
 sucked down to the chafhbers below, swallowed 
 and drowned to see if its life be worth the having. 
 There are men like that ; perfectly poli.shed, per- 
 fectly experienced, and perfectly cruel. They wish 
 no harm to anything in the world ; only whatever 
 happens to be useful to themselves must be sacri- 
 
22 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD. 
 
 ficed to them, and then, when useless, thrown aside. 
 This is what Niagara seemed to me. 
 
 It was a curious and sad sight — quite a little 
 parable — to see the flies attracted and killed by 
 the electric light hung in the verandah of the hotel. 
 The large globe was half filled with them. There 
 they lay by legions and tens of thousands in a 
 thick black mass. They came buzzing and swarm- 
 ing round, and — heedless and unwarned by the 
 fate before them — fell inside in a continuous 
 stream, till at ten o’clock there seemed to be only 
 a few left to be killed, hovering dismally round 
 the flame, waiting their turn to be “ shrivelled in 
 a fruitless fire.” 
 
 We left Niagara that night. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 The usual route from that place to Chicago is 
 by way of Detroit. P'or this reason we decided 
 to go by way of Port Huron, which we reached 
 in the morning. The train is transported across 
 the St. Lawrence on a steam barge. The river is 
 clear green and blue, about twice the size of the 
 Rhone at Geneva, and bordered with smooth, clean 
 sands. The banks are quite flat. The great Lake 
 Huron stretches away like an ocean to the north, 
 forming a dark-blue line across the horizon, broken 
 by the smoke of distant steamers. 
 
 It was getting dark when we reached Chicago 
 (the “ch” must be pronounced as in French). 
 We inquired for a “transfer” omnibus. An obse- 
 quious official assured us that we had better have 
 supper in the refreshment-room, and that there 
 was plenty of time before the omnibus started. 
 This creature was in the service of the buffet. We 
 wanted no supper, but we sat down in the room, 
 and, meantime, the “ transfer ” drove off without 
 us. We soon discovered the deception, but we 
 
24 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 were doomed to wait half an hour for another, and 
 then drove to an inn opposite the Burlington Depot ; 
 and a fearful place it was. The rooms were 
 wretched, and there was a large rat-hole in the 
 floor near the head of my bed. Canon Bodington 
 was amused by hearing my indignant expostulation 
 with the waiter : “ I insist upon having that rat • 
 hole stopped up. I shall not go to bed till it’s 
 done. It’s large enough for two rats to come out 
 abreast.” So the man nailed across it the top of 
 a cigar-box. 
 
 Next morning the heat and glare were intense. 
 We went out to search for the Cathedral, hoping 
 to find an early Communion, and we were suc- 
 cessful. We came suddenly upon a little church 
 with an open door. We thankfully entered the 
 cool shade. Fresh, sweet flowers were on the 
 altar ; the candles were being lighted by a server, 
 and a few people were kneeling devoutly. The 
 priest wore the alb and chasuble. This was the 
 first and only opportunit}’ we had of communi- 
 cating in the American Church. This little 
 building proved to be the Cathedral. There are, 
 however, twenty other American churches in the 
 city. 
 
 In the American Communion Service, the Beati- 
 tudes, or the summary of the Law, “ Thou shalt 
 love the Lord thy God,” “ Thou shalt love thy 
 neighbour,” are read instead of the Commandments. 
 It sounds a little strange to English ears. But 
 in some English churches it is the fashion to 
 leave the Commandments out altogether. It is a 
 great mistake, and quite without excuse. The 
 Kyrie comes to us from ancient days. It used to 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 25 
 
 be repeated nine times ; and it was a mark of 
 genius in the Reformation that the Kyrie was 
 preserved, and the monotony altered by inserting 
 the Commandments, and thus giving a definite 
 point to each petition. It is a misunderstanding of 
 this part of the service that prompts men to leave 
 it out. There is a feeling that the Commandments 
 threaten the worshippers and introduce the Law 
 into the great Gospel service. The fact is that the 
 English version of the Kyrie is, like the whole 
 service, an act of intercession. “ Incline our 
 hearts” is not the same as “Incline my heart.” 
 No doubt, it refers to the worshippers. But not 
 only to them, as too many manuals of devotion 
 seem to imply. It is an intercession on behalf of 
 the whole Church and of the whole world. With 
 this idea who would wish to leave out the Com- 
 mandments and Kyrie ? They tend in the same 
 direction as all Church work and all preaching. 
 What better introduction can there be to the day’s 
 work and the week’s work } 
 
 We left this metropolis of pig-slaughter at mid- 
 day without any feeling of regret. Our course lay 
 through Illinois, Missouri, and Kansas, one of the 
 most fertile di.stricts of the continent. The crops 
 of maize were magnificent, and many places 
 reminded us of the scenery of an English park. 
 
 At midnight we reached Quincy, and crossed 
 the great Mississippi. It seemed to be about a 
 mile broad. We crept slowly across on a low iron 
 bridge that creaked and rattled. The moon shone 
 bright. The river looked absolutely motionless, 
 wide and still as a lake ; the shore was swampy 
 and covered with trees. We had both music and 
 
26 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 light, for the frogs croaked loud, and countless 
 fireflies flashed over the stagnant pools and among 
 the boughs and leaves. 
 
 In the morning we came to the other giant river 
 of America, the Missouri. It is a swift and muddy 
 stream. The banks are densely wooded, and there- 
 fore picturesque. Otherwise it is not a beautiful 
 river. It is spanned by a fine bridge, across which 
 the train runs into Kansas city. PTcm the number 
 of negroes, the teams of big, long-eared mules, the 
 swarthy look of the people, and their light cotton 
 dresses, we thought the place looked very Mexican. 
 To our dismay we found we could not leave till 
 nightfall, and so we had to spend the day “ con- 
 fined and pestered ” in this uninteresting town, with 
 the thermometer at 98° in the shade. 
 
 Nearly all next day we were traversing the wide 
 plains of Nebraska, through acres of sunflowers. 
 These great prairies stretch for miles on either 
 side, bounded by low hills on the horizon. Thou- 
 sands and thousands of cattle roam wild, un- 
 checked by any fence. They live out all the 
 winter, and are driven in to be branded in the 
 spring. It is here that the trains were sometimes 
 stopped by migrating herds of buffalo. That will 
 never happen again. Buffaloes, alas ! are growing 
 scarce. We saw, however, an antelope, one or 
 two wolves, and thousands of prairie-dogs. These 
 are something like jerboas. They generally sat 
 straight up as the train passed, just as if they 
 were on parade and very much afraid of the drill- 
 sergeant. Beside them sat owls, which live with 
 them in the same holes. And the two together 
 take in a rattlesnake as a lodger. It would be 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 27 
 
 interesting to know what happens when they all 
 chance to meet in the passage. 
 
 In the afternoon we reached the foot-hills, a sort 
 of broken plateau, like the top of Dartmoor, only 
 flatter. A heavy storm came on. Thick clouds 
 advanced across the burning blue, and the forked 
 lightning not only fell to earth, but leaped zigzag 
 from cloud to cloud. Soon we caught sight of 
 the higher summits of the Rocky Mountains, more 
 than fourteen thousand feet high. Pike’s Peak, 
 and Park range ; and at sunset the snow-streaked 
 mountains appeared in view standing like a barrier 
 across the west, mingled with cloud, and gorgeous 
 with the splendid colours of the sinking sun. So 
 we ran into Denv’er. The city is more than five 
 thousand feet above the sea level. 
 
 All the next day and night we were crossing (I 
 may say) the Rocky Mountains, We went by the 
 Rio Grande route for the sake of the scenery. We 
 left Denver before eight, and began almost at once 
 slowly to ascend the mountains along the river- 
 bed, a branch of the Platte. The nearer hills, 
 scantily covered with pine, assume the form of 
 castles and towers. To the north the snow- 
 streaked range fades away into the distance. The 
 flowers were lovely. At the top of the first pass 
 there are a few houses and a little lake with a boat 
 on it, a pleasant place to spend a day or two in 
 summer. Then we ran down to Colorado Springs, 
 a fashionable resort near the foot of Pike’s Peak. 
 
 Pueblo, which we hoped to find interestingly 
 Mexican, proved dull and commonplace. Here 
 we came upon the brown and rushing Arkansas 
 river, bordered by poplars, which grow to the size 
 
28 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 of fine forest trees. The sloping foot-hills are 
 topped with turreted crests and a few stunted 
 pines. Once the train drew up under an over- 
 hanging rock, which was covered with clusters of 
 swallows’ nests clinging to the eaves of everj^ 
 ledge. Perhaps the next station, Swallows, takes 
 its name from them. We stepped out on to 
 the platform of the carriage as we ran into the 
 canon of the Arkansas. The river rushes through 
 a narrow slit in the mountains, which tower up to 
 a height of one, two, or even three thousand feet 
 overhead. There is only one line of rails, and 
 just room enough for the train to pass. It 
 seemed at each turn as if we must dash against 
 the side. At one place, called the Royal 
 Gorge, the cliffs almost meet ; there is no longer 
 room, nor can room be made for the river and the 
 road side by side, and so the engineers have 
 spanned the river from cliff to cliff, and the rail- 
 way is suspended in the air above the course of 
 the torrent, which leaps and foams beneath. 
 
 After passing the gorge a splendid range of 
 mountains is seen, called, from their red colour, 
 Sangre de Christo. At Salida the train begins to 
 ascend a long, winding route over Marshall Pass, 
 the summit of which is eleven thousand feet above 
 the sea. It is a grand climb. We had two plucky 
 little engines. It was night, but the moon was 
 shining. The train was long and, as we looked 
 out of the window, we could see the engines above 
 u.s, the first throwing up a bright display of sparks, 
 and the second a volume of dark smoke. We 
 climbed up to the snow and could see the pine 
 slopes and lower mountains wreathed in stray, 
 white vapour far away below. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 20 
 
 “The swimming vapour floats athwart the glen, 
 
 Puts forth an arm, and creeps from pine to pine. 
 
 And loiters, slowly drawn.” 
 
 This is not the highest railroad pass. Fremont’s 
 Pass, in the same region, is higher still. It is 1 1,540 
 feet high. 
 
 The name of the Black Canon of the Gunnison 
 has a terrible sound, and it is a terrible place. 
 The huge granite cliffs, towering up two thousand 
 feet on either side in deep shadow, looked black 
 indeed. This canon is not unlike the former, only 
 it is wider, and the river is larger. Waterfalls 
 slip from the overhanging brows of the cliffs, and 
 at one turn in the gorge there is a grand solitary 
 pinnacle of detached rock, called the Currecanti 
 Needle, which rises fringed with pines to a terrible 
 height. 
 
 Right in the very middle of this dark rift in the 
 mountains the train pulled up with hoarse, warning 
 whistles, which re-echoed in the black, precipitous 
 crags around. The cause of the stoppage was a 
 landslip. Some rocks had fallen across the line 
 in front of us, and there, at midnight, we had to 
 stay two hours while the debris was blasted away 
 with dynamite. It sounded as if the banging noise 
 must shake down the crags overhead. 
 
 Through the Cimarron Canon, Montrose, Delta, 
 and the Uncompahgre plateau, with views of snowy 
 peaks, lofty crags, giant pines, foaming torrents, 
 deep pools, and green pastures, the line emerges 
 upon the frightful deserts of Western Colorado 
 and Utah, crossed only by irregular lines of green, 
 where the Rio Grande and the Green river flow 
 southward, fringed with grass and trees. The plains 
 
30 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 are flat and yellow. No grass' grows upon them, 
 only tufts of burnt weeds. On either side the 
 horizon is bounded by dry, bright mountains, blaz- 
 ing red and yellow in the dazzling hot sunlight. The 
 few huts condemned to exist by the railway side 
 call themselves, with a sense of their own misery, 
 by such appropriate names as Desert and Solitude. 
 The only other signs of life that moved in this 
 awful wilderness were two ravens and one grey, 
 old wolf We wondered how Brigham Young and 
 his band of emigrants ever had the heart to travel 
 through this barren waste. He was as great an 
 adventurer as Columbus. What a relief it was to 
 creep between the two giant pillars of Castle Gate, 
 five hundred feet high, that stand like sentinels to 
 guard the entrance to Castle Canon, and to reach the 
 fairyland beyond, the wide, rich plain where the 
 fresh-water lake of Utah lies surrounded by snow 
 mountains. And so we came alongside the riv'er 
 Jordan, which flows from Utah Lake into Salt 
 Lake, and in sight of Mount Nebo, which towers 
 above the plain, to the great capital of the 
 industrious and eccentric Latter-Day Saints. 
 
 Indian and other Gentile names are not banished 
 from the land, but there is a rich jumble of Bible 
 names — Ephraim, and Moab, and Heber, and 
 Hebron, and the rest. But in their nomenclature 
 the Mormons do not confine themselves to the 
 classical names of the Old Testament. Their 
 choice is free. Somewhat to the south there are 
 two parallel rivers. One is called by the angelic 
 name of Rafael ; the other is called Dirty Devil. 
 
 Salt Lake City is far the pleasantest town we 
 saw in our journey through America. The shops 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 31 
 
 are poor, and there are no business palaces, as there 
 are in Chicago ; but the streets are broad, and 
 bordered on each side by trees and swift runnels 
 of water. There are gardens and cool detached 
 villas, and high over the fertile plain glitter the 
 snowy tops of the Ooquirrh and Uintah mountains. 
 The “Temple” is not completed, but the building 
 proceeds, and bright blocks of white granite lie 
 around. The appearance of the building is not 
 ecclesiastical ; it is something between a Norman 
 castle and a modern warehouse. When the build- 
 ing is completed the Mormons profess to believe 
 that Christ will appear to consecrate it. Meantime 
 they have to be content to meet in a “ tabernacle.” 
 In fact, there are two — a winter tabernacle and a 
 summer tabernacle. They stand within the same 
 enclosure as the Temple. The winter one is like an 
 inferior town hall. The summer one is in the shape 
 of a tortoise or a dish-cover. Inside it is composed 
 of a platform and a hall. In the front of the platform 
 is the seat for the President and his two assistants, 
 his patriarchs, apostles, and bishops. The roof is 
 decorated inside with innumerable garlands every 
 seven years. At present they look a glorious mass 
 of cobwebs and dust. The government of Utah 
 State is the same as that of all the other States, 
 but the Mormon sect has a legislature of its own, 
 subject to a veto. Polygamy is strictly forbidden 
 by the States, and every year a few Mormons are 
 imprisoned for it. On this account there is much 
 ill-feeling ; and on this day, their anniversary and 
 “septennial jubilee,” there would have been some 
 disturbance, and perhaps fighting, if it had not 
 been for the death of General Grant. 
 
ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 For on this, their festival, the Mormons hoisted 
 the “stars and stripes” half-mast high, as an insult 
 and challenge to the Gentiles ; but it passed unre- 
 marked, because all the official flags were also 
 half-mast high out of respect for General Grant. 
 The great jubilee, it appears, would not have been 
 very wonderful. All we could gather was that 
 there would have been a procession of Sunday- 
 school children. The Mormons showed their 
 sympathy and respect for General Grant by leaving 
 out the religious part of the programme, and pre- 
 serving the horse-races and dancing. 
 
 Whatever may be said against the Mormons, we 
 might learn from them an important lesson. They 
 have set a splendid example of colonization. 
 Brigham Young succeeded in doing what every- 
 body at the present day wants to do, and what 
 everybody declares to be impossible. There are 
 too many people in England, and the number 
 increases by a thousand a day. There are crowds 
 of unemployed men in country and in town. 
 There are thousands of women who drudge from 
 early morning till late at night for a miserable 
 pittance, which does not keep them alive very 
 long. And there are swarms of children who have 
 never scampered in a green meadow nor picked a 
 daisy. And a single small room, only large enough 
 for one, has to serve as dining-room, kitchen, wash- 
 house, and bedroom for father, mother, sons and 
 daughters, and babies. No wonder the public- 
 house triumphs. It is true that “ God ” — as I once 
 heard it expressed — “ has His witnesses in every 
 street.” Beautiful and pathetic lives are lived 
 under these conditions, and under conditions worse 
 
OxM A CHURCH MISSION. 33 
 
 than these. But this crush and misery is not right, 
 and every one admits it. What is to be done ? 
 The sturdy labourer, the skilful mechanic, can 
 emigrate wherever he pleases. He will make a 
 good living in any place he chooses. If he takes 
 the trouble to ask at the Government Enquiry 
 Office, or at the rooms of the Church Emigration 
 Society, he will find out where there is the greatest 
 demand for his particular branch of industry, and 
 he is sure to be welcome somewhere. But the 
 regular cockney — the men from the warrens of our 
 large cities ; the men of small stature and small 
 experience, who have never learned anything more 
 than how to “pick up a living” — what is to be 
 done with them ? It is no good for them to emi- 
 grate like their more robust brothers. Even if the 
 authorities of the countries where they landed did 
 not ship them back again, it would be cruelty to 
 tempt them to exchange the miseries of a city that 
 they know for the miseries of a city that they do 
 not know. Poor creatures ! They are not wanted 
 at home, and they are not wanted abroad. Can 
 then nothing be done for them ? We are con- 
 stantly told that nothing can be dpne. But the 
 Salt Lake City is a noble answer to this despairing 
 view of nature and of humanity. The thing has 
 been done, and it can be done again. The men that 
 cannot shift for themselves do very well under 
 the paternal government of a beneficent tyranny. 
 The people that followed Brigham Young, and the 
 people that give ear at the present day to the 
 Mormon emissaries, are not the stout ploughmen 
 and the skilled workmen. These would not be 
 tempted by the Mprmon programme. The ranks 
 
34 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 of the Latter-Day Saints are recruited, as a rule, 
 from those very classes that are considered so 
 hopeless and so incapable. These people are not 
 converts, as the word is generally understood. 
 It is not the religious creed that moves them, nor 
 is it the facility for living like a Turk. What is 
 offered them is a terrestrial paradise — fresh air, fresh 
 water, green trees, as much land of their own as 
 they care to have, fresh delights, social freedom, 
 plenty of room for work and for play, and the 
 continual help of new friends to guide their steps 
 until they can learn to walk by themselves. 
 
 Salt Lake City is the proof that the thing can 
 be done, and that it ought to be done. If it has 
 been done by Mormons, it can be done — and better 
 done — by Christians and Churchmen. In Australia 
 alone there must be room for hundreds of cities as 
 big as this. 
 
 When the founders reached the spot it was a 
 desert ; now it is a luxuriant garden. What was 
 wanted was water, and water was conducted from 
 the mountains. To repeat the experiment else- 
 where what is needed is religious faith and real 
 charity and capital, and the old English spirit of 
 enterprise, and a fewgood, strong-handed governors 
 for the Utopias of the future. In England there 
 is still plenty of all this. It only wants a man to 
 stir it and gather it in. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 35 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 In the afternoon we went to Ogden, and changed 
 from the Rio Grande to the Central Pacific line. 
 For hours after leaving the city we ran along the 
 edge of the Salt Lake, which was ruffled by a 
 sweeping storm. It is like the sea. Two islands 
 in it look like the opposite shore. Sea-gulls hover 
 about it and fish in the mouth of the river, the 
 marshes are white with salt, and flocks of black 
 birds sit and roost in the tall, dry reeds. 
 
 All next day we were passing through dry plains, 
 covered with sage-brush, rabbit-brush, and grease- 
 wood (so called because it burns up like grease). 
 Jack rabbits swarm. They were scampering 
 about by hundreds. The jack rabbit is not a 
 rabbit, but a hare. There is also a real rabbit, 
 which is called “the cotton-tail.” You certainly 
 could not starve there, and there are no game 
 laws. It would be a splendid place for some of 
 our country folk. I have great sympathy with 
 poachers. It is not malice, nor the spirit of robbery, 
 nor is it only the desire of gain or the love of rabbit- 
 pie that makes a poacher. It is the natural love of 
 sport. A poacher who had often been in gaol, and 
 had as often resolved to give up poaching when 
 
S6 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 he got out, excused himself to me by saying that 
 he could not sleep at nights for thinking of “the 
 little things padding about in the grass.” It is 
 not easy to make a poacher understand why his 
 favourite pursuit is wrong. A woman, who once 
 came to my door and tried to persuade me to 
 purchase a few couple of poached rabbits, explained 
 to me that “ there’s no harm so long as you’re not 
 cotched. They’re sent on earth for one as well as 
 for another.” According to this view poaching is, 
 of course, necessary to the development of provi- 
 dential design. Without it rabbits would fail of 
 their mission. 
 
 Here, in Nevada, would be a Paradise for 
 poachers. The absence of keepers would, no 
 doubt, deprive the sport of some of its relish and 
 zest. But, perhaps, the piquant flavour of danger 
 might be supplied by an occasional encounter with 
 a rattlesnake or a grizzly bear. 
 
 Here we began to see groups of Indians at every 
 station. The men occupy their time in lying flat 
 on the ground. They wear white hats with broad 
 brims and a band of bright ribbon ; on each side 
 of the face a thick loop of black hair ; a blanket, a 
 shirt, a pair of trousers, and, often, a long, white, 
 tight-fitting overcoat. The papooses are strapped 
 to a board on their mothers’ backs, their two little 
 hands sticking straight out. 
 
 Towards sunset we began to ascend a valley 
 with a clear, green stream. At moonrise we got 
 into the pine-woods of the Sierra Nevada, and we 
 were in them till full daylight next day. At one 
 place some boys clambered on to the train. I 
 asked them whether there were any bears in the 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION, 
 
 37 
 
 wood. “ Oh yes,” they said, “ plenty over there. 
 His brother” — pointing to one of the party — “has 
 got a young bear in the butcher’s shop now ; an 
 Indian caught it.” He explained that the Indian 
 was a Payute. 
 
 In the early morning we descended the western 
 side of the mountain range. The lower hills were 
 very fertile, and beautiful with myrtles, fruit-trees, 
 and flowers. We breakfasted at Sacramento, the 
 first of those Californian names, such as San 
 P'rancisco, San Benito, San Jose, Los Angeles, 
 which tell the condition of the early colonists. It 
 was Sunday morning, and the names brought 
 a Sunday feeling. There was the refreshing 
 thought of near rest. We had left the dust and 
 heat of the desert far behind us, and we were 
 entering “ an exceeding good land.” The pleasant, 
 peaceful change was suggestive of George Herbert’s 
 lines — 
 
 “ O day most calm, most bright, 
 
 The fruit of this, the next world’s bud.” 
 
 The rich, wide plain is full of orchards and vine- 
 yards, and is bounded on the north by an interest- 
 ing range of mountains. On the railway banks 
 were yellow eschscholtzias and lupines. Then we 
 passed through wide marshes or jungles of tall 
 reeds, and so through tunnels and over ferries we 
 ran out at last on the jetty at Oaklands, embarked 
 on a steamer, and were soon landed at our destina- 
 tion between two lines of hotel-porters, who yapped 
 and barked at us like hungry dogs. Really, no 
 other words can express the row they made. It 
 was inarticulate, furious, and deafening. 
 
 Yes, San Francisco at last ! after more than 
 
38 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 three thousand miles by rail. It is a tremendous 
 journey. Chicago at one time appeared to us 
 very far west. From the other side of the great 
 continent we felt as if it were somewhere near 
 Liverpool. 
 
 The daily bill of fare, printed every day in the 
 hotel, is amazing. It includes frogs fried an 
 poulette, squabs, summer squash, stewed terrapin, 
 cold clams, stewed clams and canteloupe. The list 
 of bread shows how well Americans understand 
 its value, and reads like a reproof to our dull 
 English bakers. It runs thus, and is really worth 
 looking at : — Corn bread, plain bread, wheat rolls, 
 cream rolls, wheat muffins, Irish oatmeal, wheat 
 flakes, oatmeal wafers, Graham wafers, Graham 
 bread, Boston brown bread, French rolls, Vienna 
 rolls, Graham rolls, dry toast, cream crackers, 
 dipped toast, cream toast, pan toast, English 
 muffins, rice cakes, Indian cakes, wheat cakes, milk 
 toast, corn cakes, oatmeal and cream, buckwheat 
 cakes, oatmeal mush with milk, cracked wheat 
 with milk or cream, hominy boiled or fried, mush 
 fried, and waffles. 
 
 This country is the land of fruit. There are 
 water-melons, melons, peaches, apricots, grapes, 
 bananas, figs, pears, apples, plums red and purple, 
 pine-apples, and, I must add, egg-plant, which is 
 a vegetable, the colour of a plum, the shape of a 
 pear, and as big as two hands together. The 
 bananas and pine-apples do not grow quite so far 
 north ; but the country for miles is covered with 
 vines, with standard peaches, and other trees loaded 
 with glowing fruit. In the streets they also sell 
 the most exquisite guillemot’s eggs for food at ten- 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 39 
 
 pence the dozen. It was indeed Paradise to get 
 here after the awful heat of the journey. We felt 
 it to be like — 
 
 “ The island-valley of Avilion, 
 
 Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, 
 
 Nor ever wind blows loudly ; but it lies 
 Deep meadow’d, happy, fair with orchard-lawns. 
 
 And bowery hollows crown’d with summer sea.” 
 
 There is never any snow in the winter, and it is 
 always fresh and cool in summer. The gardens 
 are full of the choicest flowers. The fuchsias and 
 vines grow so strong that they burst in some places 
 through the roofs of the verandahs and flourish 
 triumphantly above. One of the commonest 
 flowering trees is the datura, which bears hundreds 
 of white, trumpet-shaped flowers a foot long and 
 rich with the most fragrant perfume. 
 
 These gardens are haunted by green humming- 
 birds, with metallic pink throats — “hummers,” the 
 children call them. They are quite tame and dart 
 about swiftly like bees, uttering a little “cheep, 
 cheep,” like a bat. They thrust their long bills up 
 every flower, with their heads thrown back and 
 their wings quivering so fast that you cannot see 
 them. Then they perch on the tree and sit looking 
 about them with perfect unconcern. 
 
 Every traveller goes to view the sea-lions on the 
 coast, about seven miles from the city. There are 
 four large rocks about a hundred yards from the 
 shore. On these the sea-lions lie by hundreds, in 
 droves and heaps. There is hardly room for them, 
 and they push each other off into the water, and 
 splash and dive, and shuffle, snorting, on to the rock 
 again. The noise they make is extraordinary and 
 never ceases, It generally sounds like a pack of 
 
'40 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 hounds in full cry, then like cows bellowing, and 
 sometimes like a stout old gentleman blowing his 
 nose. Some are as big as cows and have huge 
 whiskers. As they writhe and crawl and twist 
 about the rocks, they look something between 
 bears and worms, and are, when dry, of a light 
 yellow colour. 
 
 We went round “ China Town ” with a detective 
 at night. There are forty-five thousand Chinese 
 in San Francisco, and they all live together. The 
 streets are simply Chinese. They are choked and 
 thronged with China men, women, and children ; 
 little children with little pig-tails, no longer than 
 a rat’s tail. All the shops of every trade are 
 Chinese. You see the druggist preparing medicine 
 out of pounded lizards and the filings of deer horns. 
 
 We visited the joss-house, a restaurant, and the 
 theatre. The joss-house is a gloomy place with 
 several little chambers, in which are images of 
 Confucius, three kings, three doctors, and a Chinese 
 Samson killing a tiger. Little slips of fragrant 
 sandalwood are burned before them. There was 
 also a black figure of a “good devil.” It was 
 explained to us that some devils are not good ; 
 that they get inside a man, turn him black inside, 
 and kill him in four days. At a Chinese wedding 
 strips of perforated paper are thrown behind the 
 procession, that the bad devils may be occupied in 
 threading their way in and out and have no time 
 to injure the bride and bridegroom. In front of 
 one of the images is a vase filled with slips of 
 wood. The slips are numbered, and are for 
 medicinal purposes. The system of medicine is 
 simple. The sjck man enters the joss-house, 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 41 
 
 makes a salaam to the image, and draws a number, 
 He draws, perhaps, number ninety-three ; he goes 
 at once to the druggist and orders medicine ninety- 
 three. We were not told what was the percentage 
 of cures. Probably the patients are all treated 
 alike to something which is only nasty, like pounded 
 lizard, and does them no harm and no good. 
 
 In the restaurant men were eagerly playing 
 dominoes. There were square seats and round 
 tables, and on the tables tiny cups of vinegar and 
 of mustard for making salad. A band of musicians, 
 playing on a lute, cymbals, tom-tom drum, metal 
 gong, and a stringed instrument, accompanied a 
 singer who sang in a high nasal falsetto. 
 
 The theatre was so crowded that a group of 
 boys, for whom no room could be found, were 
 allowed to sit in a corner of the stage. The 
 women were in a loft by themselves. The actors 
 were all men — women never act — and the orchestra 
 sat on the stage behind them. The performance 
 was a kind of opera. A Chinese play is like a 
 Japanese book. A Japanese book may consist of 
 seventy, or a hundred, or even three hundred 
 volumes ; and a Chinese play lasts for two or 
 three months. If the audience want to understand 
 the plot, they must attend every night. 
 
 We also visited a wretched lodging-house, where 
 men were smoking opium underground. As we 
 were coming away we heard tremendous blows, 
 and found that the police were making a raid upon a 
 Chinese gambling-saloon. They were inside a shop, 
 battering with huge hammers an iron door, while 
 the Chinamen in the shop went on quietly pound- 
 ing their drugs, as if it were no concern of theirs. 
 
42 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 In the Chinese quarter I bought two Chinese 
 dolls. Of course they have Chinese faces, very 
 expressive, and a smile that is “childlike and 
 bland.” They are the most intelligent and aesthetic 
 creatures that ever were stuffed with bran. But 
 though the Chinese make their dolls smile, they 
 very seldom smile themselves. They have, wher- 
 ever you see them, a worn, sad look. And no 
 wonder. They work very hard, and are hated 
 and despised by the American and colonial work- 
 men. 
 
 San Francisco is considered to be one of the 
 wickedest cities in the world. From what we 
 were told, and from what we saw, we could well 
 think the report to be true. At the same time, to 
 judge by the newspapers, it must be one of the 
 most superstitious. In the Chronicle, a daily paper, 
 there is a long list of advertisements by fortune- 
 tellers, mediums, astrologers, psychometrizers, and 
 “independent slate-writers.” One is “the celebrated 
 young revealer by eggs and cards ; ” another “ tells 
 past, present, future ; lucky charms ; love tokens ; 
 correct information in stocks ; ” and a third makes 
 “ the correct and lasting likeness of your intended 
 to appear in your hands.” 
 
 When men give up the truth, they fall an easy 
 prey to the first miserable imposture. 
 
 There is an American bishop of the city, and 
 churches and chapels of all sorts. We attended 
 St. Luke’s Church on the evening of our arrival. 
 The service was simple and reverent, and the 
 sermon interesting. But there were no poor. 
 The ladies and gentlemen who composed the 
 choir sang an elaborate anthem while the collec- 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION, 
 
 43 
 
 tion was made. On our way home, we turned 
 into the Roman Cathedral, and heard Monsignor 
 Capel finishing a sermon on the subject of the Mass. 
 
 We went one day to see the “ big trees ” in a 
 real Californian forest near Santa Cruz. We left 
 at 8.30, travelled by train through miles of rich 
 
44 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 orchards and vineyards, and arrived at the station 
 called Big Trees at noon. There are hundreds 
 of these giant monsters. The forest extends for 
 miles over the mountains. Nothing can give an 
 idea of the enormous size of the trees. They 
 call them “ redwood cedars,” and say they are 
 Sequoia; not the same as the Yosemite trees,* 
 but a variety. I am told that the proper name 
 for them is Taxodium sempervirens. One of them 
 has been surveyed, and found to be two hundred 
 and ninety-six feet high, and fifty-eight feet in 
 girth four feet from the ground. One peculiarity 
 of these trees is their exuberant fertility. Some- 
 times eight or ten large stems rise up in a cluster, 
 and outside this central cluster springs a circle of 
 satellites, all from the same root, and the earth 
 seems to heave up with them, as though it were 
 making a great effort at production. When a tree 
 is cut down, the stumps at once shoot up, and the 
 roots also produce fresh suckers. 
 
 The wood is full of blue jays and thrushes with 
 white back and red wings, and yellow swallow-tail 
 butterflies and brown emperors, and grey squirrels, 
 all so tame that they almost perch on your feet. 
 
 Canon Bodington went back in the afternoon. I 
 remained, and at night I walked down — such a 
 walk ! — through the forest to Santa Cruz. The 
 distance is six or seven miles. The sun was sinking 
 behind the pine-covered ridges of the mountains 
 as I crossed the shallow creek and began my 
 journey. It was the first really wild country 
 walk I had ever taken in America. I felt the ex- 
 citing charm of novelty. The birds, the beasts, the 
 ♦ See p. 43. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 45 
 
 flowers, the trees, were all new. Each step was a 
 fresh discovery. Every time the boughs rustled 
 or the bushes moved, there was an exhilarating 
 sense of expectation. The road runs high along 
 the mountain-side above the deep, rocky ravine. 
 As I stood by the roadside to make a pencil 
 outline, I heard the sound of wheels, and soon a 
 light cart came up. There were two men in it, 
 with thick, black beards. As they passed, they 
 looked intently and curiously at me. At that 
 moment it struck me that it would be quite dark 
 before I got to Santa Cruz on this unknown road. 
 I recalled the wild tales of Californian adventure 
 and the wickedness of San Francisco. Was not 
 this the land of the revolver and the bowie knife ? 
 Had we not been told that in the city there was 
 every facility for procuring the silent and secure 
 disappearance of enemies and inconvenient people ? 
 I should not have thought of danger if these 
 black-bearded men had not looked so fixedly and 
 curiously upon me. I was a stranger, and should 
 never be missed. The black bag that stood beside 
 me might be full of bank-notes. And as I thought 
 how dark it would soon be, I felt uncomfortable. 
 As I walked on, and the gloom deepened, I began 
 to consider what I should do when the moment 
 came. Should I try to push the men into the 
 ravine, or should I offer them what money I had 
 about me, and so hope to pass ? I had walked 
 about an hour more through the wood, and 
 the night had set in, when I reached a turn in 
 the road where there was a thicket of evergreen 
 oaks, which formed a complete tunnel of thick 
 foliage. Underneath was the blackness of darkness, 
 
46 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 The way might be felt by spreading out the hands 
 — it could not be seen. Up till now, I had walked 
 with suspicion. Now I felt certainty. This was 
 evidently the crisis. But it was no good to stop, 
 and I plunged in. Suddenly, on my right, the 
 bushes crackled and parted ; I saw a gleam of 
 white, and there sprang on to the road beside me 
 a white calf. In a few minutes I heard the sound 
 of voices. There was a house, and then more 
 houses, and I was soon safe, in the hotel, from 
 further imaginary alarms. 
 
 I collected ninety-three specimens of flowers in 
 our journey across the great continent. At every 
 station I jumped out and went as far as I dared 
 go. Once I was nearly left behind, but I ran in 
 time to scramble into the last carriage. In Cali- 
 fornia I added more than thirty to my collection. 
 The collection is unique. It is not the flora of a 
 country, nor of a district, nor of a state ; it is the 
 flora of a railroad. 
 
 On Saturday, the ist of August, we embarked 
 in the Australia, and on the 8th came in sight of 
 the Sandwich Islands. 
 
 On our left was a very long island, rising into 
 a cloudy mountain. Over the sloping shoulder of 
 this island we caught sight of another higher 
 mountain, lifting a huge dome above the clouds. 
 Several kinds of sea-birds came out to greet us. 
 Soon we saw hills on our right. This was the 
 principal island, Oahu, on which stands the 
 capital, Honolulu. Its outline is very irregular, 
 with sharp-pointed peaks rising straight from the 
 sea like needles, and cones with extinct craters. 
 Jagged ranges of rocks lead up like flights of 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 47 
 
 stairs to the central summit of the island. The 
 colours were most brilliant. The top of the moun- 
 tains, mingled with cloud, was a delicate grey. 
 The slopes were bright yellow and pink, mingled 
 with green. The shore was vivid green, and we 
 could distinguish houses with curling smoke, and 
 plantations of cocoa-nut palms, which rose high 
 above the other trees, with yellowish-grey foliage. 
 The sea near the shore was cobalt green, then 
 the colour of a stonechat’s egg, further out vivid 
 blue, and on the horizon dark purple. It is im- 
 possible to describe the intense and vivid brilliancy 
 of the colouring. Something like it may be seen 
 at Capri, but not often. 
 
 As we neared the shore a dozen boys with 
 brilliant orange skins, and white soles to their feet, 
 and black eyes and hair, swam round the ship and 
 dived for small coins, which they never failed to 
 bring up. 
 
 The Bishop of Honolulu came on board to meet 
 us. His carriage was waiting, and he drove us to his 
 bowery palace — a low house with a verandah over- 
 grown with passion flower — and gave us luncheon, 
 including oranges grown in the country, very large, 
 and of the colour of pale lemons, and home-made 
 (delightful novelty 1) guava-jelly. Almost the first 
 sight we saw, as we drove up the street, was three 
 native girls riding abreast, like men, and covered 
 with garlands of flowers. I thought it was a circus, 
 but I found they were ordinary village maidens, 
 following the common custom of the country. 
 The people are devoted to flowers. The rough 
 men working at the docks wore wreaths of flowers, 
 or leaves, or peacock’s feathers round their hats. 
 
48 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 I asked permission to gather some wild flowers 
 in front of a house, and a native man came out 
 and twined a garland of yellow ginger flowers 
 round me. I had no idea that one palm would 
 bear so many cocoa-nuts, or so big. I bought one, 
 a great golden-green thing, as big as a football. 
 Then there are mangoes, and guavas, and bananas, 
 and sugar-cane. The bananas, with their delicious 
 broad, green leaves and masses of fruit, are grown 
 in orchards, and at their feet are melons tumbling 
 about in profusion. Nearly all the trees are laden 
 with flowers, brilliant blossoms, scarlet and yellow. 
 There is bougainvillea, a mass of thick mauve 
 blossom, and the yellow' alamanda, and pome- 
 granates in fruit and flower. 
 
 The king’s palace and the parliament-house are 
 large and handsome buildings. There are two 
 Houses of Parliament — a House of Nobles and a 
 House of Representatives. They meet every two 
 years, and sometimes, no doubt, find something 
 to pass an act about, of the same calibre as a 
 vestry resolution. There is also a little army. 
 The scale of civil and military affairs gives one 
 the impression of being something like that of San 
 Marino or Monaco. 
 
 The bishop showed us his boarding and day 
 schools, where trades are taught ; the dormitory, 
 dining-hall, printing press, and carpenter’s shop, 
 the sisterhood from Holy Trinity, Devonport, with 
 its chapel and school ; and the unfinished choir of 
 the cathedral. The stone is shipped ready dressed 
 from England, at less cost than it could be worked 
 in the island ; for labour is very dear — four or five 
 dollars a day. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 49 
 
 We left again that evening, and steaming through 
 calm and rough, rain and “ doldrums,” experienced 
 the novelty of getting south of the sun, crossing 
 the line, passing the mysterious boundary between 
 east and west, and thus dropping out a day, and 
 jumping from Wednesday to Friday. We halted 
 in a glorious sunrise at Tutuila, one of the Samoan 
 group of islands, two thousand miles from Hono- 
 lulu and sixteen hundred from Auckland ; and 
 somewhere in this wide ocean ran through the 
 shortest conceivable winter into a New Zealand 
 spring. In the night of August 21 we saw the 
 intermittent light of the Tiri-tiri lighthouse flash- 
 ing to us our first welcome, and in the morning 
 we cast anchor in Auckland Harbour. 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 51 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 THE NORTH ISLAND. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The town of Auckland is built on the slopes of an 
 extinct volcano. It is built in the shape of a fan, 
 Mount Eden being regarded as the handle. The 
 smooth, green cone of this hill, as hollow as a cup 
 and terraced with ancient native earthworks to 
 form a “ pah,” or fort, rises to the height of more 
 than six hundred feet behind the town. At the 
 foot of the cone is a sloping, green plateau, covered 
 with broken blocks of lava overgrown with ferns 
 and patches of native bush. Below this plateau, 
 the rushing rains have torn in the mountain side 
 deep ravines and gullies, which broaden outwards 
 towards the sequestered and land-locked Waite- 
 mata Harbour. 
 
 On the sections of the mountain between these 
 gullies, Auckland is built. It is utterly unlike an 
 American city. It is not “ built as a city that is at 
 unity in itself.” It is entangled among the gullies. 
 The wharf is naturally the centre of activity. 
 Queen Street — a broad, handsome thoroughfare — 
 leads straight inland from the wharf, and may be 
 regarded as the central ray of the fan. On either 
 
S3 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 side of Queen Street the town has spread over the 
 low cliffs and flats by the shore. It has run inland 
 up the ridges, leaving the gullies almost untouched ; 
 it has seized on the plateau of the mountain, 
 straggled thinly even up to the roots of the cone, 
 wandered round behind the base of the mountain 
 to form the hamlets of Newmarket and Epsom, 
 and thrown a sprinkling of cottages and villas to 
 Remuera on the west and far away beyond 
 Ponsonby on the east. Although in Queen Street 
 and elsewhere there are some fine buildings of 
 stone, brick, and concrete, yet most of the buildings, 
 whether churches or houses or places of business, 
 are built of wood. All the detached houses and 
 suburbs are of wood, and it is a curious sight to 
 see the skeleton of a house completed before the 
 outer walls or inner partitions are added. These 
 “ wooden walls ” of New England are a great source 
 of danger by fire. Here and there in the town are 
 erected bell-towers, like railway signal-boxes, to 
 give the alarm. This they frequently do, for fires 
 are common. We received the impression — not 
 a strictly true one — that there was at least one fire 
 every night. The first night I slept actually in 
 the town there was a fire at some livery stables, and 
 seventy horses were galloping about the streets. 
 In consequence of the danger by fire, it is now 
 forbidden to build a house of wood in the town. 
 
 The causes which make Auckland so irregular 
 and so awkward render it wonderfully picturesque. 
 The deep ravines filled with tree-ferns and native 
 bush, the white houses climbing the hills, the 
 parapets of public buildings, the spires of the 
 churches, the gardens, the groves of gum-trees and 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 S3 
 
 Norfolk Island insignis, and maritime pines, are 
 grouped in every variety of changing shape, and 
 the soft blue of the sea and the delicate greys and 
 purples of the islands and promontories and moun- 
 tains form an exquisite background to every 
 picture. In colonial towns it is the custom to 
 reserve a wide space for parks and pleasure- 
 grounds. This has been done at Auckland. 
 “ The Domain,” at the back of the town, is a 
 delightful piece of native bush and grass land, 
 measuring two hundred acres, intersected by paths 
 and watered by a stream, which has been retained 
 for public use. It is a pleasure to see the groups 
 of men and boys dressed in flannels, thoroughly 
 enjoying the good old-country games of football and 
 cricket, and sometimes a parade or sham fight of 
 the volunteers, who already number in Auckland 
 alone considerably more than a thousand. 
 
 The Church cemetery lies on the steep slope of 
 the most beautiful of all the gullies. The head of 
 the ravine is topped by the spire of St. Sepulchre’s 
 Church ; the lower end of the valley is crossed 
 by a lofty bridge. The trickling stream is 
 matted and overhung by the long fronds of asple- 
 nium and tree-fcrns. Tall, stately gums and weep- 
 ing willows occupy the mouth of the valley, and 
 through the thin, drooping bunches of the scimitar- 
 shaped leaves and white, downy flowers of the 
 gums appears the blue water of the Waitemata 
 and the shores that enfold it. The cemetery is 
 like some rare shrubbery with avenues and arbours 
 of curious and scented shrubs and dracaenas and 
 pines and bunches of lilies. It is well kept, and 
 the “ reverential character” of the place carefully 
 
54 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 respected. Reverence for the dead is quite a 
 feature of the New Zealand character. Men take 
 off their hats when they meet a funeral, and carts 
 and omnibuses halt, and the drivers uncover their 
 heads. It is a pleasant surprise to find this custom 
 so well observed. It is too much neglected in 
 England. Men will show their respect as the 
 “ sad array ” passes them “ slow through the 
 churchyard path,” but in the street the funeral too 
 often is allowed to pass unrecognized. It ought 
 not to be so, whatever interpretation is put upon 
 the action ; whether it be regarded as a sign of 
 sympathy with sorrow — “ Have pity upon me, O 
 my friends ; for the hand of God hath touched 
 me ” — or of respect for the dead, or of awe in the 
 presence of death, or of homage to Him “ in whose 
 hand are the issues of life and death.” In any 
 case it is a simple and touching way, which could 
 not be resented, of asserting the brotherhood of 
 men. It is natural to expect a spirit of reverence 
 and religion in a colony opened to the world by 
 men who hazarded their lives, not for the love of 
 gold, but for the love of Christ and of the human race. 
 The roots of the colony were planted, as so many 
 have been, by the courage and enterprise of English 
 priests. Tasman and Cook discovered New Zealand, 
 but the real work of civilization was begun and 
 continued by Marsden, with Kendal, Hall, and 
 King, his three brave assistants, and Williams 
 and Selwyn. The treaty of Waitangi would never 
 have been signed in February, 1840, if Samuel 
 Marsden had not preached at the Bay of Islands 
 on Christmas Day, 1814. 
 
 Whether the people of Auckland are conscious 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 5$ 
 
 of “ the rock whence (they) are hewn,” or not, they 
 certainly take a keen interest in religious matters. 
 Almost every form of Christianity has followed 
 in the wake of the Church. There are churches 
 and chapels in abundance. There is a Roman 
 cathedral, a Salvation Army barracks, a Mr. 
 Spurgeon’s Tabernacle, a synagogue, a Gospel 
 Temperance movement, a Christadelphian meeting- 
 house. The newspapers are full of reports of 
 services and sermons, and lectures and meetings ; 
 and their columns are readily open to religious 
 correspondents, some of whom have a real talent 
 for writing on every religious and social subject, 
 like the persons described in the Apocrypha, who 
 will not let “any flower of the spring pass by.” 
 There is not any very general, eager search or 
 longing desire after truth. People are too busy. 
 The religious instinct is easily satisfied. Either 
 there is not any deep sense of want, or else the 
 attainment of truth is regarded as impracticable. 
 Authority goes for nothing. All religions are 
 considered to stand on the same footing. All 
 shades of truth or error have a right to a place 
 side by side. It is a free country, and to hint that, 
 if one is right, another, which contradicts it, must 
 be wrong, is almost resented as an interference 
 with liberty of conscience. But this assertion of 
 liberty is apt sometimes to be one-sided. I know 
 an intelligent man, who was a regular attendant 
 at a leading chapel in the town, and brought 
 up to its tenets, who, after hearing the preacher 
 denounce in unmeasured terms Roman Catholics 
 and Churchmen, exclaimed, “ If this is Christianity 
 I shall have nothing more to do with it,” and 
 
56 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 joined the Secularist party and eagerly devoted 
 himself to its support. I am glad to say that 
 during the course of our mission my friend was 
 baptized. He was afterwards confirmed, and is 
 now a regular communicant. 
 
 Almost any speaker can obtain a hearing in 
 Auckland. Lecturers, teachers, preachers, littera- 
 teurs, escaped nuns, and reformed convicts gain an 
 audience and attract more attention than they 
 would have at home. Indeed, it is curious to 
 observe what kind of statements can be adventured 
 by lecturers and received by the lectured. We 
 only attended one lecture, to which we were 
 courteously invited by the promoters. The lecture 
 was to prove the mythical origin of Christianity ; 
 and, as a proof, we were told that the word “ sent,” 
 the translation of the name 'Siloam, in St. John 
 ix. 7, was the name — and the lecturer carefully 
 spelt it letter by letter — of an Egyptian deity. 
 The lecturer did not pause to explain whether he 
 considered the seventeenth century a favourable 
 epoch and Whitehall a favourable place for the 
 creation of myths, or whether the Gospel was 
 originally written in English, or whether “the 
 most high and mighty Prince James” was the 
 first Christian sovereign of England. The lecture 
 was full of points of the same kind. In half an 
 hour we ceased even to be amused. In the roving 
 freedom of opinion and thought in the colony 
 there is a good deal of scepticism, perhaps even of 
 infidelity ; but if this is the calibre of the teaching, 
 ultimately Christianity cannot have much to fear. 
 
 The activity of the colony in matters of educa- 
 tion is greater even than in matters of religion. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 57 
 
 Education is free and secular. Wherever five and 
 twenty children can be got together a public school 
 is provided for them by the Government. Each 
 remote little village far away in the heart of the 
 bush has a school, which often has also to serve 
 as a church. The teachers are not only highly 
 educated, but are of good social standing. Some 
 hav'e seen what would be described by their 
 English friends, perhaps, as “ better days.” Free 
 education is the ideal of advanced politicians. But 
 there is one consequence of the system which is 
 not always foreseen, and it is this : that the rich get 
 their children taught at the expense of the working- 
 men, or, rather, of the whole community. For, 
 although many prefer to send their children to 
 private denominational schools, yet there is no 
 doubt that many of the richer classes take a very 
 wise advantage of the proximity and excellent 
 instruction of the normal schools. 
 
 There is a strong movement, not only among 
 Churchmen, in favour of introducing religious 
 teaching into the Government schools. Under the 
 London School Board the Bible is read and ex- 
 plained to the children by the teacher without 
 using the formularies of any denomination. There 
 seems no reason why the same system, or some- 
 thing better, should not be adopted in the colonies. 
 Popular feeling is in favour of it. If a general vote 
 could be given on the subject, there can be no 
 "doubt on which side the lot would fall. Sooner or 
 later, persevering Christian endeavour must be 
 crowned with success, and the Gospel story will be 
 read, as it ought to be, by the children of Christian 
 parents in every public school from Mangonui to 
 
58 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 Southland. Meantime opportunities are sometimes 
 offered for religious teaching. During our mission 
 we not infrequently had the happiness of addressing 
 sometimes two or three hundred bright-eyed, happy- 
 looking children in a public elementary school. 
 
 Compulsory education is hardly needed. There 
 are no street arabs. Nor is there in New Zealand, 
 the same temptation to keep children at home 
 for tenting crows, and turnip-singling, and pea- 
 pulling. There are no crows. Wages are higher, 
 and the labour of the boys and girls is not needed 
 to supply the family purse. There are very few 
 children whose education is neglected. Parents 
 feel that they have to pay for the education of the 
 country, whether their own children go to school 
 or not, and it is more profitable for them to take 
 their money’s worth. Those who require more 
 advanced education can find it in the grammar 
 schools and colleges, and in the New Zealand uni- 
 versity, which confers degrees upon women as well 
 as men. But, in spite of these advantages, there is 
 a steady current of young men returning to England 
 to study for their professions or to graduate at the 
 universities of Oxford and Cambridge. 
 
 The activity of Auckland is not confined to 
 commerce, education, and religion ; room is also 
 found for science, art, and literature. There is a 
 good museum, containing, among other things, a 
 fine collection of shells and stuffed birds. Lectures 
 in science are given in connection with the Auck- 
 land University College. There is an anatomical 
 museum, with a theatre for lectures, and class- 
 rooms. There is no lack of music. There is a 
 grand choral hall and a prosperous choral society. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 59 
 
 which, during our stay, gave a performance of Sir 
 A. Sullivan’s “ Martyr of Antioch.” There are 
 two societies of painters and two annual exhibi- 
 tions — not to mention the works of one or two 
 well-known landscape painters. What struck me 
 most were the pen-and-ink sketches of a clergy- 
 man in the diocese. His drawings, especially of 
 native trees, were charmingly true to nature, and 
 showed great delicacy of touch and mastery of 
 
 form. Fifty years is hardly long enough to 
 produce a literature. The books written by 
 colonists have been chiefly works on New Zealand, 
 many of them of great value and interest — on 
 history, on politics, on the native races, on botany, 
 natural history, geology, commerce, and other 
 subjects that naturally suggest themselves. I only 
 came across one volume of original poetry. It 
 was presented to me by the authoress, a lady 
 living on the beautiful shores of Lake Takapuna, 
 
6o ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 who has evidently studied the works of Words- 
 worth, Tennyson, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 
 and Longfellow. The unpretending poems breathe 
 a devout spirit and a quiet love of nature. But if 
 the colonists have not yet produced much litera- 
 ture, they appreciate it. This is shown by their 
 numerous free libraries and reading-rooms. All 
 the English papers and periodicals find their way 
 out. The books that lie on our drawing-room 
 tables at home are to be found in the same 
 position at Auckland, Wellington, and Christ- 
 church ; and the daily colonial newspapers contain 
 telegrams of the most important European news. 
 Public amusements are the same as in other parts 
 of the world. 
 
 But it is only to be expected that colonial 
 activity should be chiefly occupied in trade and 
 commerce, in earning daily bread and in making 
 fortunes. For fortunes, not necessarily very 
 large ones, are certainly still to be made, and a 
 countless number of little fortunes — the best 
 evidence of prosperity — which are the most desir- 
 able, are continually made. It is well known that 
 New Zealand has a public debt of more than 
 thirty millions. But it was well pointed out at 
 one of the meetings of the Royal Colonial 
 Institute that this large sum is not lost, but 
 invested ; for it has been spent not on wars, not on 
 maintaining large standing armies and navies, but 
 on colonization, on railways, on harbours, on water- 
 sluices and other works of public utility. A country 
 that possesses such enormous resources — hills 
 rich in gold, from which forty-two million pounds’ 
 worth has already been dug ; inexhaustible coal- 
 
ON A CHUECH MISSION. 
 
 6l 
 
 mines, of which there are a hundred in full work, 
 with seams varying in depth from ten to forty feet ; 
 millions of acres of arable land, producing more 
 wheat per acre than any other land on the face of 
 the globe ; rich pastures, where the sheep can be 
 counted by millions and cattle and horses by tens 
 or even hundreds of thousands ; vast forests — 
 twenty million acres — rich in every variety of 
 valuable timber, from the stately kauri, rimu, and 
 totara, down to the ornamental rewa-rewa, the tree- 
 fern, the nikau palm, and the fuchsia ; vast fisheries, 
 which have never been seriously attempted, con- 
 taining schnapper, mullet, flounder, and a hundred 
 and ninety more varieties ; this country, which 
 possesses a climate varying from that of Devon- 
 shire to that of Algiers or Madeira, where the 
 olive, the cinchona, the orange, and the guava 
 will ripen as well as the apple and the gooseberry ; 
 where there are no criminal classes, no poor rate, 
 no workhouse ; where there is almost absolute 
 security of life and property ; where police are 
 seldom seen and scarcely ever wanted ; — this 
 country, American in its rapid movement, English 
 in its pluck and steady common sense, which has 
 done in fifty years the work of a hundred: — this 
 is not the country likely to repudiate its national 
 debt or to fail in meeting the demands of the 
 future. New Zealanders have confidence — and the 
 confidence is not a rash one, but fortified by 
 reason and grounded in experience — a confidence 
 in themselves and in their adopted country, and 
 that is half the battle. 
 
63 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 In the great commercial activity of New Zealand, 
 Auckland bears a leading part. It is “ admirably 
 fitted,” as Bishop Selwyn says, “for the residence 
 of a maritime nation.” The shipping is double 
 that of any other port, and no port, except 
 Dunedin, collects such a large amount of customs. 
 It is the natural port for trade with San Francisco ; 
 and there is an increasing commerce with “ The 
 Islands,” as they are called — with Raratonga, and 
 Gilbert Island, and Tongatabu. The shop-windows, 
 full of Polynesian curiosities, are an evidence. 
 Honolulu supplies the sugar-works on the North 
 Shore with sugar, and the fruit-shops are well 
 stocked with large, tough-skinned, lemon-coloured 
 oranges from Samoa and pine-apples from Fiji. 
 
 Owing partly to these growing commercial 
 relations, partly to the Melanesian Mission, which 
 is attached to the New Zealand ecclesiastical 
 province, partly to the fact that some of the islands 
 lie on the direct route to and from California, 
 there is a kind of feeling that the islands are an 
 appendage to New Zealand. In fiict, there is a 
 political gravitation towards the colony. During 
 our short stay in Auckland this impulse brought 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 63 
 
 thither ambassadors from Samoa and a queen 
 from Raratonga, as dusky as— 
 
 ‘ ‘ That starr’d Ethiop queen that strove, 
 
 To set her beauty’s praise above 
 The sea-nymphs,” 
 
 The diocese of Honolulu has long been knocking 
 for admission into the ecclesiastical heptarchy. 
 
 Queen Street is a busy place. The pavements, 
 but not the road, are almost as crowded as the 
 pavements of Cheapside. Amongst the passengers 
 are generally to be seen a few Maoris — the men 
 tattooed all over the face, the women only on the 
 lower lip. The broad and dccply-furrowcd lines 
 and circles on these dark faces give them quite the 
 appearance of rich, old oak. And round the 
 offices of the Herald and the Evening Star may 
 be seen a group of men looking out for advertise- 
 ments of work. The working-men are certainly 
 well off. We hear sometimes of their being 
 out of employment. No doubt there are cases 
 now and then of real distress. But these are 
 single instances, and are readily dealt with by 
 charitable associations and charitable individuals. 
 But, as a rule, men are out of work from daintiness 
 about wages, or because they do not fancy working 
 away from the comforts and pleasures of the town. 
 They arc fond of the well-known little rhyme, 
 
 I which puts their ideal in a handy form ; — ■ 
 
 “Eight hours’ work. 
 
 And eight hours’ piny, ' ‘ 
 
 Eight hours’ sleep, 
 
 And eight bob a day.” 
 
 As a fact they get it. 
 
 The rate of wages varies in different provinces 
 
64 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD* 
 
 and towns. It is not the same in Taranaki as it 
 is in Marlborough, and it varies according to the 
 nature and style of work. But men can easily 
 obtain anything from six to twelve shillings a day. 
 In some places they can obtain considerably more. 
 It was recorded in the newspapers that some men 
 engaged in constructing a bridge, had struck 
 because their wages were to be reduced — if my 
 memory serves me right — from fifteen to twelve 
 shillings a day. There is in most districts a 
 “ Charitable Aid Society,” which collects funds to 
 assist the distressed, and all ministers of religion 
 are cx-officio members of the committee. The 
 Government doubles the amount collected. The 
 society deals very liberally with cases of real want. 
 For instance, a lame man whom I observed fre- 
 quently in church at Hokitika was receiving twenty- 
 five shillings a week. 
 
 Auckland has been compared to Corinth and 
 to Naples. It is certainly bimaris. There is 
 really no land to speak of between the ocean on 
 the east and the ocean on the west. In these 
 days, when men have dug or are digging a dyke 
 through the hills of Panama and the sands of 
 Suez, the trifling bit of earth which connects the 
 Northern Peninsula with the main island would, 
 probably, long ago have been dug through, if the 
 Manukau harbour had been anything like so safe 
 or so good as the harbour of the Waitemata. 
 Corinth was proverbially difficult of approach. 
 The same cannot be said of Auckland. The 
 Hauraki Gulf, of which the harbour is an outlet, is 
 sheltered from' the north-east by the Great Barrier 
 and Little Barrier^ Islands and the long, lofty 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 65 
 
 promontory of the Coromandel range. The imme- 
 diate entrance of the harbour is protected by the 
 islands of Rangitoto, Motutapu, Motuihi, and Wai- 
 heke, so that the waters inside are generally as calm 
 as a lake, and large waves are quite unknown. But, 
 while these islands defend the harbour from the 
 violence of the wind and the swell of the ocean, 
 they do not choke the entrance. The channel 
 between Rangitoto and the North Head is two 
 miles wide, and so deep that the largest vessels in 
 the world could enter at the lowest spring tide. 
 
 And inside the harbour there is room for the 
 whole of the British fleet. 
 
 There is a resemblance to Naples at first sight, 
 but it is one that will not bear close investigation. 
 The likeness is due in great measure to the form 
 of the island of Rangitoto. It is a lofty volcano, 
 with a triple peak eight hundred and fifty feet 
 high. The sweeping outline of this mountain 
 gives quite the feeling of Vesuvius, and the effect 
 is increased by the lines of white houses on the 
 North Shore and in Auckland. 
 
66 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 But whether the scenery is like that of Naples 
 or not, it is exquisitely beautiful. The bay itself 
 is not unlike Plymouth. There is the same com- 
 bination of rocks, and trees, and water, and town, 
 and large ships, imprisoned in a magic circle of 
 soft hills. But the intricacies of the shore are 
 more surprising ; there is greater variety and 
 luxuriance of foliage, more villas with rare gardens, 
 a brighter, clearer sea, and an infinitely greater 
 combination of outlines of hill and shore. Rangi- 
 toto is always lovely and always changing. To 
 right and left and behind it are lines upon lines of 
 moor and mountain, and promontory and bay, 
 and sloping headland fading into the dim blue 
 haze of Kawau and Coromandel and the Barrier 
 Islands fifty miles away. In the foreground there 
 may be a ridge of msignis and maritime pines and 
 the terraces of a garden bright with ixias, and 
 gladiolus, and lilies ; or a group of lofty eucalyptus, 
 whose leaves hardly veil the view beyond, and the 
 spire of a church, and houses, and a few formal 
 Norfolk Island pines, their top branches in the 
 form of a cross, and a road sloping down to a 
 beach with boats ; or a steep street bordered with 
 planes and pines, avenues of lofty buildings, and a 
 forest of tall masts ; or a flat green shore, with a 
 slow stream and beds of rushes and mangrove, and 
 a bit of sand with sea birds and shells ; or a busy 
 little harbour under a rocky cliff, with a fishing 
 smack drifting past the pier, and stacks of lumber 
 and the steam of a saw-mill engine, and the white 
 smoke of a passenger train puffing among the 
 branches of dark overhanging pohutukawas ; or a 
 sheltered cove with huge kauri logs afloat, and boys 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 67 
 
 bathing between them in defiance of the sharks ; or 
 a creek where a cemetery with flowers and long grass 
 dips towards the hot north down to the edge of 
 the tide ; and crosses and headstones, on which 
 children are laying fresh garlands of camellias and 
 orange-blossom, are grouped around a little his- 
 torical chapel ; and, a few yards beyond, the smooth, 
 shaven lawns and formal lines of a battery show 
 that the colony does not intend to surrender to 
 Russian rovers without a blow. And on every bit 
 of waste ground by the roadside or on the shore, 
 where in England docks and nettles would grow, 
 are seen clumps of the broad, glossy leaves and 
 spotless, white flowers of the arum — lilies, as they 
 call them. The white narcissus in some places — 
 for instance, in the orchards beside Pitt Street or 
 the meadows in St. Hellier’s Bay — grows almost in 
 the same profusion. I have counted as many as 
 five and twenty blossoms on a single stem. 
 
 The beautiful harbour has one great drawback ; 
 it is infested by sharks. All sorts of stories are 
 told about them. As an old boatman said to me 
 on the subject, “ Without any romance, there’s 
 some of the dreadfullest sharks in this ’ere bay as 
 ever you see.” The same old salt, by the way, 
 explained the effect produced upon the natives by 
 the sight of Englishmen riding. “ What licked the 
 Maoris,” said he, “ was when fust they see a man 
 o’ horseback — they thought as how the man and 
 the horse, it was all one fixture.” The Maoris, of 
 course, had never seen any quadruped except a 
 pig, a rat, and a dog. This reminds one of the 
 effect produced on some of the Polynesian 
 Islanders, as recorded by Captain Cook. “They 
 
68 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 were afraid,” he says, “ to come near the cows and 
 horses, nor did they form the least conception of 
 their nature. But the sheep and goats did not 
 pass the limits of their understanding, for they 
 gave us to understand that they knew them to be 
 birds.” As to these “ dreadfullest sharks,” a man, 
 we were told, was diving, and, just as he lost his 
 balance, in the moment of falling, he saw a big, 
 wolfish monster just below him in the water. 
 There was no possible escape. Down he came 
 on top of the shark. But he came down with such 
 a thump that the brute, who was probably basking 
 asleep in the warm sun, was as terrified as the 
 man, and darted like lightning into the deep. The 
 man scrambled out of the water, and, for the 
 future, he always looked before he leapt. But we 
 were not left to mere fables. Our friends often 
 caught the sharks. A little steamer takes out a fish- 
 ing party once a week, and sometimes quite a little 
 shoal of these ugly things is hooked. The natives 
 are very fond of their flesh, but they prefer it 
 when the delicacy of the flavour is heightened by 
 lying on the shore for a few days in the sun. 
 There is another fish, really valued by others than 
 the Maoris, which is, I believe, never hooked nor 
 netted, but must be picked up on the shore. It is 
 called the “ frost-fish,” because it is only thrown 
 up on the beach after a night’s frost. While we 
 were at Auckland a very large shark was exhibited 
 for some days at Devonport. It was of the com- 
 monest kind, called the great blue shark, or 
 Carcharodon ro7idelettii. It was thirty feet long 
 and fourteen feet in girth ; plenty of horrid facility 
 for digesting a man at full length. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 69 
 
 Fish of all kinds arc very plentiful. The great 
 explorer of New Zealand and the crew of the 
 Endeavour were often grateful for a dish of fresh 
 fish. “ The sea,” he says, “ that washes these 
 islands abounds with delicate and wholesome fish. 
 Whenever the vessel came to anchor, enough were 
 caught, with hook and line only, to supply the 
 whole ship’s company ; and when they fished with 
 nets, every man in the ship salted as much as 
 supplied him for several weeks,” And again he 
 writes, “ They caught great numbers of fish, which 
 eagerly took the bait, and their first meal upon 
 fish ” (it is the second voyage in the Resolution^) 
 “seemed the most delightful meal they ever made.” 
 The fish that most eagerly take the bait are the 
 kahawai and the schnapper. They are as greedy 
 as the pike and the perch, which they resemble in 
 shape. I remember seeing a fishing-smack un- 
 loading at the wharf. The boat was full of great 
 schnappers, which the fishermen strung in bunches 
 of five or six on flax leaves and piled upon a 
 cart. There are also cod and turbot, sole and 
 mackerel, mullet and smelt, and pilchard and sprat. 
 The Maoris at Mercer crowd round the train at 
 the station, offering bags full of whitebait, which 
 they catch in quantities in the Waikato river. 
 These different kinds of fish, although they bear 
 English names, are not really English fish. They 
 have been named thus by the fishermen, or per- 
 haps they still bear the names given them by the 
 sailors of Te Kuki, who named them “according to 
 their fancies.” A fish-curing industry has lately 
 been started in the Manukau district. 
 
 Other fish have been introduced into New Zea- 
 
70 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD. 
 
 land rivers by the Acclimatization Society, which 
 has branches established in the principal towns, 
 and deserves more support than it appears to get. 
 It is uncertain whether there are really salmon 
 anywhere except in Otago. But salmon trout and 
 trout mostly abound, especially in the clearer 
 and more gravelly streams of the South Island, 
 and grow to a great size. They have been caught 
 over eighteen pounds in weight. Three gentle- 
 men, during our stay, caught sixty trout with a fly 
 in two days in a Wellington river ; two others in 
 Canterbury obtained thirty-four pounds in a day. 
 Golden carp — an inferior fish — swarm in the 
 Waikato, and the fish-ponds of St. John’s College 
 are stocked with American cat-fish, a good fish 
 with an ugly nam e. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 A GREAT work of acclimatization has been going 
 on in both islands for many years; sometimes for 
 good, and sometimes, as is well known, for evil. 
 Pheasants are thoroughly naturalized all over the 
 country. Australian quails are common. Cali- 
 fornian quails swarm near Nelson. Many of the 
 common English birds have been introduced. 
 Sparrows are a plague, and so, cruel and un- 
 poetical as it is to say so, are larks. The rollick- 
 ing song of the blackbird is heard in every garden. 
 Thrushes are as common in Dunedin. I once 
 
 I 
 
72 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 counted forty-seven yellow-hammers on a small 
 newly-sown lawn ; and I have seen starlings, bull- 
 finehes, wrens, and, I think, grey linnets. The 
 Australian magpie (really a pied crow) is found 
 in Canterbury Province, and the Indian mynah is 
 as common in Taranaki as it is in Honolulu. I hope 
 some day swallows may be brought from England, 
 and humming-birds from California. The shoot- 
 ing season is from the ist of May to the end of 
 July. A thirty-shilling license is required for 
 killing “imported game,” amongst which is ex- 
 pressly included the American pintail grouse, 
 which, however, I have never seen. Native game 
 may be shot without a license, but it is protected 
 by the same close season. Hares are also con- 
 sidered game. I do not remember to have seen 
 one in the North Island, although there are some, 
 and they are hunted in default of foxes. But I 
 have seen them in the South Island. They grow 
 to a great size, with big round noses and a pro- 
 fusion of long whiskers — regular “pussies.” On 
 large sheep runs a man or two are especially em- 
 plgyed for the purpose of keeping them down. 
 
 I remember seeing a number lying at the Orari 
 Station, and a man kicked at them, saying, “ The 
 curse of the country.” And they are as much 
 despised for food as salmon was in old days by the 
 Winchester apprentices. One woman, who pro- 
 fessed to be starving, was given a hare, and at 
 once threw it away in disgust. It was an insult 
 even to offer it. 
 
 The plague of rabbits is known to all. It is 
 severely felt in Otago and in Wellington, but not 
 much near Auckland. They are not obtrusive. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 73 
 
 but a few may be seen on the slopes of Mount 
 Eden. Not many years ago there was a fine of 
 five pounds for killing a rabbit, now there is a 
 fine of five pounds for keeping one. The rabbits 
 occupy a great deal of attention. In fact, they 
 belong to the Colonial Secretary’s office, and have 
 a State official to look after them. It is reckoned 
 that five rabbits eat as much as a sheep ; and 
 they multiply at such a prodigious rate that, unless 
 their production is checked, they will soon leave 
 nothing for the sheep to eat. All kinds of devices 
 are used to check or to exterminate them. It was 
 proposed, just before we left the country, to fence 
 off with wire netting the large stretch of the 
 Amuri country, north of Christchurch, at the cost 
 of several thousand pounds, in order to keep them 
 out. Poison has been tried, with success ; and the 
 aid of M. Pasteur has been invoked to inoculate them 
 j with “ hen-cholera.” But the favourite expedient, 
 alas ! is to turn out cats, ferrets, stoats, and weasels. 
 Thousands have been turned out, and more are 
 I crossing the ocean with this design. It is a sad 
 policy. It remains to be seen whether these vermin 
 will kill the rabbits when they get there. 
 
 The reason why we hear the rabbits squealing 
 under their attack in English preserves, is because 
 there is nothing else for them to catch ; but, when 
 they find themselves surrounded by a new fauna, 
 they may change their diet. In fact, they have 
 done so. They have taken a very natural fancy 
 j to young wild duck. They are even reported to 
 
 I have attacked children. And it is sadly easy to 
 
 • see that in a few years there will be none of those 
 rare and delightful birds for which New Zealand 
 
74 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 is famous, the various kinds of wingless kiwis, 
 quaint,curious, long-legged, long-billed, large-footed 
 creatures, covered rather with hair than feathers, 
 and looking not unlike French gentlemen in polite 
 
 bathing costume ; the bold, inquisitive, and con- 
 fiding wekas, or Maori wood-hens ; and the large 
 kekapo, or ground-parrot, which has indeed got 
 wings, but has forgotten how to use them, because 
 hitherto it has never had an enemy to dread. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 75 
 
 Even if the weasels do not change their diet, 
 what appreciable good can they do? If each 
 weasel were to kill one rabbit regularly every day — 
 and it would certainly not be sufficiently hungry 
 to kill more — it would make no sensible difference 
 to their numbers. And, if the rabbits were exter- 
 minated from a district, or driven away, the weasels 
 and stoats would not migrate after them. 
 
 A far better way would be for more men to make 
 their little fortunes by trapping, snaring, and shoot- 
 ing them. I have been assured that there are men 
 in Otago making ;^SOO a year by it. The farmer 
 will give them a penny a head, and the skins will 
 sell for sixpence apiece. The Americans and 
 Germans convert them into sables and other furs, 
 and at the Manchester Exhibition they might be 
 seen slowly turning into wide-awake hats. Ten 
 million skins are annually exported. It may 
 seem astonishing, but it is true, that, with the 
 exception of wool and tallow and frozen meat, and 
 gold and grain, and timber and kauri gum, rabbit- 
 skins are the chief source of revenue to the colony. 
 
 A curious instance of creatures changing their 
 habits to suit a changed environment is supplied 
 by the kea parrot of New Zealand, the king of his 
 tribe, not so large as the ground-parrot, but a bird 
 of beautiful green and grey plumage, and of strong, 
 soaring flight. Since the introduction of sheep 
 into the colony, this bird has become a bird of 
 prey. It has learned to acquire a taste for sheep’s 
 kidneys, and kills the animal, in order to obtain it, 
 by lighting on its back and tearing through the 
 wool and skin and flesh with its powerful bill. 
 Humble-bees have quite recently been introduced 
 
;6 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 in order to fertilize the clover. They have multi- 
 plied very quickly. But whether, surrounded by 
 new delights, they Avill remain faithful to the clover, 
 may be doubted. I have seen them in the Christ- 
 church gardens greedily sucking the honey from a 
 white flowering shrub. 
 
 It is a curiosity of the country that there arc 
 no indigenous quadrupeds. When Captain Cook 
 landed in Poverty Bay a hundred and eighteen 
 years ago, the Maoris possessed dogs which they 
 must have brought with them from their mysterious 
 Hawaiki, “the great broad place of day.” This 
 was their only tame quadruped. The only wild 
 one was a rat, which has now disappeared, sup- 
 planted, as our own English rat was supplanted 
 in England, by the Norwegian or Hanoverian rat. 
 There were also, and still are, a few lizards, of 
 which the Maoris, having no experience at all of 
 reptiles, are dreadfully afraid. They regard them 
 as atuas, or divinities. The famous captain turned 
 loose pigs, which soon multiplied in the bush and 
 overran the country, and are now what we should 
 call wild boar, and are very fierce, sometimes 
 charging a horse and goring it. 
 
 The lack of four-footed beasts in the country 
 added one to the many difficulties experienced by 
 the translators of the Bible into the Maori language. 
 In the first edition, by a bold and transparent 
 manoeuvre, the words “ he-goat ” and “ she-goat,” 
 which so frequently occur in the Old Testament, 
 were rendered " Piri-gota" and Nani-nani!' 
 
 Snails were another importation. They were 
 introduced to feed the blackbirds, and the black- 
 birds, though they still crack them on stones as 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 77 
 
 they do in England, have a preference for apples, 
 pears, and strawberries; and the snails are enemies, 
 as at home, to the gardener. There is a grand 
 native snail, not unlike the snail that is eaten on 
 the Riviera, and it lays eggs as big as a wren’s. It 
 was eaten by the natives just as they eat oysters, 
 and pipi shell-fish, and the fat white grubs that 
 are found in decayed wood. In fact, it would be 
 difficult, if not impossible, to find anything which 
 they would not eat. Before the beginning of this 
 century their choice of nice things was very limited : 
 no wonder they ate some that were nasty. 
 
 Hitherto the door has resolutely and successfully 
 been kept shut against snakes. It is one of the 
 great joys of New Zealand that there is absolutely 
 nothing venomous or noxious, except one rare 
 spider. It is perfectly safe to botanize through 
 the longest grass and the most tangled bush, in 
 places where it would be madness to go in Queens- 
 land or Madras. There are no snakes. St. Patrick 
 has the credit of having banished them from 
 Ireland. Some day, perhaps, a similar honour will 
 be claimed for Mr. Marsden by the Church Mis- 
 sionary Society. If a snake is heard of quite a 
 sensation is caused. A thrill of horror pervades 
 society. “ The snake ” is the one topic of excited 
 conversation. 
 
 During our stay, by some fearful oversight, a 
 snake was imported in a bundle of fodder, and 
 made its appearance on the grand stand of the 
 race-course at Ellerslie. Its liberty was of short 
 duration, for it was captured by an Auckland 
 manufacturer. This gentleman tried to find the 
 police to give it into custody, and the police tried 
 
78 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 to find the gentleman in order to take him into 
 custody for possessing it. The Government tele- 
 graphed from Wellington, anxiously inquiring 
 where the snake was. An ambitious showman 
 offered five pounds, and undertook all risks if he 
 might only have it for the night ; and a professor 
 begged for it in the interests of science. In the 
 end the superintendent of police and the manu- 
 facturer met in the presence of the professor, and 
 the snake expired in a glass jar under the influence 
 of chloroform. Auckland society again breathed 
 freely, and the snake now occupies an honoured 
 position in the University Museum. 
 
 Fallow deer have been naturalized in the Oroua 
 district, between Lake Taupo and Wellington ; 
 and there is a proposal to introduce chamois into 
 the Alps of the Southern Island. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 79 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Captain Cook landed in 
 Poverty Bay on the 15th 
 of October, 1769, and took 
 possession of New Zealand 
 in the name of the king. 
 Forty-five years later, the 
 Rev. Samuel Marsden 
 landed in the Bay of 
 Islands,on the 22nd 
 of December, 1814, 
 and took posses- 
 sion of New Zea- 
 land in the name 
 of Christ and the 
 Church of England. 
 This was on Thurs- 
 day. The following 
 Sunday was Christ- 
 mas Day, and Mr. 
 Marsden felt his “very 
 soul melt within him ” 
 as he sang the Old Hundredth, and, through 
 an interpreter, preached to crowds of natives 
 on the text, “ I bring you glad tidings of great 
 
8o 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 joy.” Mr. Marsden was the Government Chaplain 
 at Sydney, but he was accompanied by three 
 faithful laymen, Kendal, Hall, and King, who had 
 been sent out, at his request, by the Church 
 Missionary Society to teach the natives the 
 Christian faith, the rudiments of education, and 
 useful arts. 
 
 Here, when Mr. Marsden returned to Sydney, 
 they remained living in the midst of savages and 
 cannibals, who, after their victories, invited them 
 to share in their fearful banquets, and played foot- 
 ball with human heads. Within fifty years — before 
 the Maori War — the whole race was converted, 
 and New Zealand was — at least in name — a 
 Christian country. 
 
 Only thirty years after Mr. Marsden’s first 
 sermon. Bishop Selwyn, who had himself traversed 
 the country on foot with no companions but natives, 
 was able to speak thus : “ Any traveller may enter 
 at any hour of the night into the most lonely hut 
 in any part of New Zealand without the slightest 
 reason for distrust. In general the warmest place, 
 the cleanest mat, the best food will be freely 
 supplied to him, without so much as a thought of 
 payment being due.” 
 
 We may — by leaving out the last word — reverse 
 the famous taunt of Lucretius against religion — 
 
 “ Tantum relligio potuLt suadere.” 
 
 The Bay of Islands, then, was the cradle of the 
 New Zealand Church, and the honour of under- 
 taking the first mission to the natives belongs to 
 the Church Missionary Society. Other Christians, 
 Roman Catholics and Wesleyans, followed before 
 long. In 1839 the Society for the Propagation of 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 8l 
 
 the Gospel, whose speciality it is to look after 
 colonists as well as heathen, joined in the work, 
 and when, in 1841, George Augustus Selwyn was 
 consecrated first Bishop of New Zealand, it liberally 
 supported him,, and gave him that “confidential 
 latitude ” for which he was so grateful. The 
 foundation of this see is a good example of the 
 growth of the Church during the century, or, rather, 
 of its extraordinary position before. Up to the 
 year 1841 New Zealand was in the diocese of 
 Australia. Before 1836 both New Zealand and 
 Australia belonged to Calcutta, and before 1814 
 Calcutta, as well as the others, belonged to 
 London. In three years’ time the bishop moved 
 his headquarters from Waimate, in the Bay of 
 Islands, to Auckland, which lies one hundred and 
 twenty miles to the south, and was then the capital 
 of the colony of New Zealand. Here he had 
 already, with great forethought, purchased sites for 
 churches and parsonages, and twenty or thirty 
 acres as a site for a cathedral and cathedral close, 
 and obtained from the governor. Captain William 
 Hobson, two cemeteries of eight acres each. He 
 was also enabled to purchase an estate of eight 
 hundred and fifty acres a few miles to the east of 
 the town, where St. John’s College still stands. 
 
 Bishop Selwyn was really the apostle of New 
 Zealand. He did for the country what Augustine 
 or Aidan did for England, or Boniface for Germany. 
 He was Bishop of New Zealand for twenty-six years, 
 and he left it a well-organized province, with a 
 primate and six suffragans. To him is chiefly due 
 not only the consolidation and extension and 
 endowment of the Church, but also its constitution. 
 
 a 
 
82 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 It is generally called in the colony “ The Anglican 
 Church,” and it is a very good name ; but its 
 official title is“ The Church of the Province of New 
 Zealand, commonly called the Church of England.” 
 After tgn years’ preparation, a deed of constitution 
 was drawn up in 1857, in the little chapel which 
 stands in the beautiful cemetery near Resolution 
 Point, The deed is alterable in all its parts 
 except in the fundamental points of doctrine 
 and constitution. The Church is bound to “ hold 
 and maintain the doctrine and sacraments of 
 Christ as the Lord hath commanded in His Holy 
 Word, and as the United Church of England 
 and Ireland hath received and explained the 
 same in the Book of Common Prayer, in the 
 Form and Manner of Making, Ordaining, and 
 Consecrating of Bishops, Priests, and Deacons, and 
 in the Thirty-nine Articles of Religion.” 
 
 The Church is governed by Synods, composed of 
 bishops, clergy, and laity. The affairs of the 
 province are managed by a General Synod, and the 
 affairs of each diocese by a Diocesan Synod. No 
 law or canon can be passed in Synod without a 
 majority of each of these orders. 
 
 The General Synod consists of the primate and his 
 six suffragans, with three other clergymen and four 
 lay communicants from each diocese. The clergy- 
 men are elected by the clergy, and the laymen by 
 the laymen, triennially. A layman in New Zealand 
 means a man (presumably a baptized man) who has 
 signed a profession of attachment to the Church. 
 The General Synod meets every three years. 
 
 The Diocesan Synod consists of the bishop, all 
 his licensed clergy, and not less than one lay com- 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 S3 
 
 municant elected from each parish or district. 
 The Diocesan Synod meets yearly. 
 
 During the recess of the Synods, standing com- 
 mittees, appointed by them, exercise much of their 
 powers. 
 
 Trustees are appointed by the Synods to repre- 
 sent the church of the province or the church of 
 the diocese for the purpose of holding property. 
 
 The primate is not the bishop of a particular 
 see. He may be bishop of any one of the seven 
 dioceses, and is elected to fill the metropolitical 
 office by the General Synod. 
 
 When a vacancy occurs in any bishopric, the 
 Diocesan Synod elects a new chief pastor, and his 
 election is confirmed by the General Synod. 
 
 The country is mapped out into parishes and 
 parochial districts. These districts, often wide 
 tracts of land, represent the less thickly populated 
 and more uncivilized parts, and are served by 
 clergymen appointed or recalled at the bishop’s 
 pleasure. Parishes are formed and their boun- 
 daries defined by the Diocesan Synod, and their 
 affairs are managed by the parish priest in con- 
 junction with a vestry composed of two church- 
 wardens, and from three to ten communicants 
 annually elected. 
 
 When a cure of souls falls vacant, a fresh parish 
 priest is chosen by a board composed of two 
 diocesan and three parochial nominators. The 
 bishop can refuse to institute, but an appeal is 
 permitted from his decision to the bishops of the 
 province. It is not uncommon for the nominators 
 to ask the bishop’s commissary in England to send 
 them an English priest, and they have also the 
 
84 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 power to confer the right of the next presentation 
 on a benefactor. Sometimes the residents in a 
 parochial district, who desire to get rid of their 
 pastor, do so by applying to the Synod to have 
 their district formed into a parish. If their petition 
 is granted, the cure becomes vacant, and the nomi- 
 nation of a new pastor falls into their own hands. 
 
 The ecclesiastical courts are very simple, and all 
 offences, whether against doctrine, ritual, or morals, 
 are subject to the same procedure. There are two 
 courts — the diocesan, which is a court of first 
 instance, and the provincial, which is the final 
 court of appeal. 
 
 The chancellor of the diocese, appointed by the 
 bishop, presides at every trial, and is assisted by 
 two clergymen and two laymen as assessors. 
 These assessors are chosen by lot out of a body of 
 twelve appointed by the bishop, with the con- 
 currence of the Synod. The assessors act as a jury, 
 and, after the chancellor has summed up, give their 
 verdict of “ guilty ” or “ not guilty ; ” but in cases 
 of doctrine or ritual, they only give a “special 
 verdict ” as to the facts, without acquitting or con- 
 demning the accused. The bishop has the power 
 to stop proceedings. 
 
 The court of appeal is composed of the bishops 
 of the province, of whom there must be three at 
 least present at the hearing of a case. They may 
 associate with themselves two or more persons 
 “learned in the law” to assist them, but the 
 lawyers do not give or join in giving any decision. 
 Any office-bearer or trustee, from a bishop down 
 to a vestryman, may be tried by these courts. 
 
 Parent Churches may sometimes find lessons to 
 be learned from their children. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 85 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 BishoPSCOURT crowns the summit of the ridge 
 of the suburb of Parnell. It is built, like most 
 other houses, of wood, and occupies three sides 
 of a parallelogram. On the left side is the dwell- 
 ing-house, and on the right is the library, also 
 used as a Synod hall, containing a very fine and 
 valuable collection of books. Bishop Selwyn began 
 the collection at Keri-Keri, in the Bay of Islands, 
 and found it “ refreshing and inspiriting.” The 
 third side of the building is formed by a chapel and 
 a study and a corridor connecting the house with 
 the library. Round the house is a shrubbery and 
 a garden with a lawn and a paddock. The garden 
 is a wilderness, but it rejoices and blossoms like 
 the rose. Spring is not supposed to commence 
 till the 22nd of September, but in August the 
 garden was already fragrant and beautiful with 
 magnolias and lemons, azaleas and camellias, roses 
 and violets, sparaxis and jonquils, and daffodils. 
 P'or the first few days I was ill in bed, and my 
 impressions of the country were received through 
 the window. I shall always remember those first 
 impressions. Opposite the window was a pink 
 magnolia without any leaves, but covered with a 
 
86 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 profusion of cup-like blossoms, just showing their 
 white satin lining. Flights of chattering sparrows 
 made the branches their battlefield, and sometimes 
 there was a pair of goldfinches or wrens. It would 
 have made a beautiful subject for decorating a 
 screen. There was usually a bright sun, and now 
 and then a heavy, rushing shower of rain. Through 
 the glass door I could see the large, beaded drops 
 hanging on the bare boughs of a tree and glittering 
 with long rays of prismatic colours, so that the 
 least motion of my head was enough to vary the 
 show, and make the deep orange change into red 
 or violet. There was a delicious sense of joyous 
 spring bursting into beauty in an unknown world 
 and telling of a long, rare summer coming behind. 
 
 The day after our arrival was Sunday. There is 
 a stunted wooden tower at the end of the library, 
 with a peal of bells, which chime familiar tunes, 
 and which, heard across the water of the harbour, 
 have furnished a theme more than once to the 
 poet of Takapuna. There is only one other peal 
 of bells in the diocese, and that is at Cambridge. 
 The services of the day were full of omens for 
 our mission. The Epistle gave us “ our sufficiency 
 is of God,” and the Gospel, “ He maketh both the 
 deaf to hear and the dumb to speak,” and the 
 second Lesson, “ Stewards of the mysteries of God,” 
 and the Collect, “ Wont to give more than either 
 we desire or deserve.” The Bishop of Dunedin 
 was preaching at St. Sepulchre’s. He was on his 
 way to “the Islands” to see what opening there 
 was for Church work. That there is an opening is 
 manifest. There are English Churchmen every- 
 where, and they have a right to demand and to 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 87 
 
 secure for themselves that grace and those spiritual 
 gifts which are only conferred through the Apos- 
 tolic Church. There is a very natural and 
 honourable reluctance among the authorities at 
 home to intrude upon any ground already 
 occupied by some denomination of professing 
 Christians, and, where Presbyterians or Wesleyans, 
 or some other sect not dangerously heterodox, 
 have planted a mission, the premature advent of 
 the Church might, perhaps, do more harm than 
 good. But all the islands are not equally fortunate. 
 There are some where Holy Baptism is discarded 
 as unnecessary. Holy Matrimony as impracticable, 
 and the Holy Communion is celebrated with 
 cocoa-nut milk for wine. In such cases there need 
 be little hesitation. And if the English Church 
 has scruples, the Roman Church has none. When 
 the natives, taught to regard the Bible as the 
 fountain of authority, have attained some slight 
 intelligence, they will naturally throw overboard 
 these shadowy forms of Christianity, which have 
 so little sympathy with the original gospel, and 
 will pass at once into the papal fold unless English 
 Catholicism is offered them. At the next General 
 Synod the oversight of these islands was entrusted 
 to the Bishop of Nelson. 
 
 Our missions in the diocese of Auckland 
 occupied rather more than five months, from 
 September to February. They were all, except 
 three, held in the city of Auckland or the suburbs. 
 The three exceptions were three excursions — one 
 to the Kaipara district in the northern peninsula, 
 the second to the Waikato and the Thames, and 
 the third to Taranaki. The five months were also 
 
88 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 diversified by two Synods — the Diocesan Synod in 
 October, and the Provincial Synod at the end of 
 January — and by a holiday trip to the lakes. 
 
 The missions were preceded by two conferences 
 of the clergy, and a Retreat at Bishopscourt, 
 attended by some forty clergy. One result of this 
 Retreat was the formation of a devotional society 
 for the clergy, modelled closely on the “ Pastoral 
 Order ” of the Diocese of Lichfield. 
 
 The first mission was held at St. Matthew’s 
 Church. Like all the rest, it is built of wood. It 
 has no pretence to architecture, and, to English 
 eyes, the interior fittings are wanting in dignity 
 and beauty ; but, on the other hand, the dark 
 wood gives a warmer and more furnished look 
 than the plain stone or white-wash common at 
 home. There is a good organ, and a good choir 
 of ladies and gentlemen. The mission began on 
 Friday, August 28th, by a special service for 
 workers. The Bishop of Auckland gave a short 
 address of welcome to the missioners, followed by 
 a Benediction, and Canon Bodington preached on 
 the words, “ We preach not ourselves, but Christ 
 Jesus the Lord ; and ourselves your servants for 
 Jesus’ sake” (2 Cor, iv. 5). The actual mission 
 began the next day, and Mr. Bodington’s evening 
 sermon “ produced ” (to quote the Church paper) 
 “a profound impression upon many deeply 
 thinking persons, and it will be long before that 
 impression is effaced, the effect of it, it is hoped 
 and believed, never.” The daily services may be 
 mentioned once for all, as they were, with slight 
 variations, the same in all our missions. The 
 Holy Communion was celebrated at 8 a.m. and 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 89 
 
 at 9 ; Morning Prayer was said at 10, followed 
 by special intercessions ; an address to men was 
 given at mid-day ; and an address to women at 
 3 p.m., followed by Evening Prayer. At 8 p.m. 
 was the mission service, sermon, and instruction. 
 Thus, the foundation of the whole course of 
 missions was laid on the one only service ap- 
 pointed by our Lord. There were very few days, 
 except during our travels, when we had not the 
 privilege of receiving the Blessed Sacrament, 
 although sometimes the accommodation was poor 
 and mean, and in one place we had to celebrate 
 with a china plate and a glass tumbler ; and before 
 we left home it had been arranged that, in some 
 church or religious house, a special Eucharist 
 should be offered in perpetual daily succession 
 from the day we set sail till the day of our return, 
 to implore a blessing on our work. Often and 
 often, as we were preparing for our evening mis- 
 sion service, we thought with joy that at that hour 
 the sun just sinking from our sight was dawning 
 on England, and the church bell of some quiet 
 village, or busy town parish, or some ancient 
 cathedral, or some private chapel, was calling 
 devout souls to plead the merits of the everlasting 
 Sacrifice on behalf of our far-off work on the other 
 side of the world. 
 
 On Sunday afternoons there was always an 
 address to children, and usually an address to 
 men,* by Canon Bodington, “a man ” (to quote a 
 secular Auckland paper) “whose tolerant and 
 charitable spirit and broad views have earned him 
 
 * The jiith of some of these addresses has since been published 
 by the S.P.C.K., under the title “ Some Difficulties of Belief.” 
 
90 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 golden opinions from all denominations.” One 
 of the results of this first mission was the forma- 
 tion, after conferences with the Bishop of Auckland 
 and his clergy, of a “ Church Society ” for the 
 diocese, framed on the model of a similar society 
 in the diocese of Truro. 
 
 For those who are interested in portents I may 
 add that our first mission was signalized by a total 
 eclipse, both of the sun and of the moon. At this 
 time we were both staying at Challinor House, 
 Pitt Street, under the hospitable roof of Dr. Purchas, 
 who was ordained by Bishop Selwyn, and still 
 helps his brother clergy, although he devotes the 
 greater part of his time to the healing art of St. 
 Luke. It would not be becoming to speak much 
 of any private house where we were received, but 
 there can be no harm in expressing our gratitude 
 to those kind friends who so freely and so grace- 
 fully offered us a home, and always kept for each 
 of us a prophet’s chamber ready. Our host’s 
 intimate acquaintance with the native language, 
 habits, and character, and his rich stores of scientific 
 knowledge, gave us our first introduction to the 
 wonders of New Zealand. He is also musical, and 
 was entrusted by the first bishop with the task of 
 compiling a diocesan hymn-book, for which he 
 composed several tunes. And we were often 
 refreshed at the end of a day’s mission by an hour’s 
 music. And sometimes — for the household 
 formed a considerable choir — we sang some of his 
 own hymns, which he would lead on his flute. 
 And one night after returning from a mission 
 service, as he lay awake, unwell and unable to 
 sleep, he wrote some beautiful lines on the Parable 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 91 
 
 of the Prodigal Son, adapting the first verse of 
 a well-known hymn and adding others. I give 
 the hymn at length in the shape which it finally 
 took. It speedily found its way into one or two 
 well-known English hymn-books, including the 
 new appendix of “ Hymns Ancient and Modern,” 
 and remains as another touching little fruit of the 
 New Zealand Mission, and a fresh little spiritual 
 nerve between the English head and the colonial 
 members, and to us a pathetic and grateful 
 memory. 
 
 “ Return, O wanderer, to thy home. 
 
 Thy Father calls for thee ; 
 
 No longer now an exile roam. 
 
 In guilt and misery : 
 
 Return, return ! 
 
 “ Too long the loathsome fields of sin 
 Thy fruitless toil have known : 
 
 No wholesome bread ! no voice of kin ! 
 
 No home to call thine own ! 
 
 Return, return ! 
 
 “ The Father stands with outstretch’d hands. 
 He gave His Son for thee : 
 
 Poor soul, from sin’s enthralling bands 
 He longs to set thee free. 
 
 Return, return ! 
 
 “Arise, stand up and homeward turn. 
 
 No longer dwell apart ; 
 
 His mighty love will never spurn 
 One humble contrite heart. 
 
 Return, return ! 
 
 “ Our Father’s house is full of bliss. 
 
 And there is room for all ; 
 
 He welcomes with forgiving kiss ; 
 
 O, hear His loving call 1 
 Return, return ! 
 
 “ The feast of joy awaits thee there, 
 
 The precious robe and ring ; 
 
 O haste thy Father’s gifts to share, 
 
 O haste His praise to sing ; 
 
 Return, return 1 ” 
 
92 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD. 
 
 Challinor House commands a beautiful view of 
 the town and harbour, and a garden is attached to 
 it. In front of the dining-room window grows a 
 standard peach, which was glorious with masses of 
 pink blossom. The peaches in the colony, which 
 at one time were so abundant that they were given 
 in bucketfuls to feed the pigs, had from some un- 
 explained cause ceased to be productive for some 
 years, but, since then, this same peach tree has 
 yielded, so I am told, in one season, no less than 
 seventy-four dozen peaches. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Our first holiday was a day we shall always 
 remember. Our kind host made a family picnic 
 for us, and drove us to spend the day at a relation’s 
 house on the shore of St. Hellier’s Bay. The sun 
 
94 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 was bright, the sea blue and sparkling, and the 
 air balmy and sweet with the moist, fresh scent 
 of budding leaves and gorgeous gorse-blossom, 
 flowering in such mass and large profusion of 
 colour as can seldom be seen except on the canvas 
 of Titian. Through these roadside prickly splen- 
 dours, here and there, a delicate arum-lily or a 
 rampant geranium crept to the light and burst 
 into beauty ; and the tall, bare quickset hedges 
 were garlanded sometimes with the starry white 
 blossoms of the native clematis. Later in the year 
 some of these hedges are bright with double pink 
 roses, more novel but, perhaps, not more sweet 
 and lovely than the may. On our way we climbed 
 Mount Hobson, an extinct volcano, from the top 
 of which can be counted two and twenty more. 
 Like most of the rest, it was an old Maori “pah," 
 trenched and terraced, and thick with white pipi 
 shells, a favourite and abundant native food. The 
 steep, grassy slopes were “ with daisies pied,” and 
 with bugle and other common home flowers. In 
 the neighbouring fields we saw sad crops of another 
 importation — a fertile kind of small sour-dock, 
 which the natives call by the simple and expressive 
 name of “ the devil.” 
 
 Our road lay past the most interesting monument 
 in New Zealand, St. John’s College, on the Tamaki 
 river, founded by Bishop Selwyn in November, 
 1844. It is screened from the road by a plantation 
 of pines. The buildings, picturesque with gables 
 and high-pitched roofs, form a kind of quadrangle, 
 and are made partly of wood and partly of purple- 
 grey volcanic stone, with patches of rich orange 
 and scarlet lichen, and embowered in roses, jessa- 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 95 
 
 mine, and ivy. There are numerous small rooms, 
 a large kitchen with wide chimney, over which is 
 Selwyn’s coat of arms, and a fine dining hall with 
 oriel window and a raised dais, screened with an 
 open carved screen from the rest of the room. The 
 group of buildings bears the impress of Cambridge, 
 and is a touching proof of the bishop’s filial love 
 for his old university. But the buildings were not 
 erected for mere sentiment and beauty, but for 
 hard work, as he understood the word, “ guided ” 
 (the phrase is characteristic) “ by Scripture, Church 
 history, and practical observation,” — hard work, 
 such as he did himself and expected — sometimes, 
 perhaps, with too rigid and stern inflexibility — 
 everybody else to do. Here was a farm, under 
 the management of a deacon, a staff of clergy, four 
 of whom the bishop “ took from the labours and 
 duties of the farm,” and candidates for Holy Orders, 
 who served the pretty wooden chapels in village 
 hamlets far and near ; day schools, taught by the 
 ladies, and a school for Maori boarders and 
 Melanesian Islanders ; a hospital, a chapel, a 
 printing office, and a carpenter’s shop. The course 
 of instruction for the students embraced divinity, 
 Greek, Maori, Latin, and medicine, and there was 
 (again to quote the founder’s words) “ an open and 
 undisguised reality” about the work. An exquisite 
 terraced garden, with smooth lawns and neat walks, 
 leads down to the winding salt-water creek through 
 the thickest of native bush, abounding in tree- 
 ferns and dracaenas, and overrun with luxuriant 
 masses of white clematis, and here and there beds 
 of the grand leaves and blossoms of self-sown 
 arum-lilies. 
 
96 
 
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 The wooden chapel stands alone, surrounded by 
 a churchyard that slopes towards the northern 
 sun, a tangle of ferns and flowers, where side by 
 side sleep brothers of different race and colour 
 and language — different in everything except in 
 faith. Inside the little Gothic cruciform church, 
 built with dignity and simplicity, and richly 
 furnished with dark wood and the sombre glow of 
 coloured glass, the thought of the blessed dead is 
 presented again and again. It was the design of 
 the builder. It was “the union of two ideas — of 
 the living who worship God within the church, 
 and of the dead who sleep around it till the day 
 of resurrection.’’ 
 
 Here are tablets to benefactors, who founded 
 scholarships — one a merchant, and his inscription, 
 “ A merchant man seeking goodly pearls ; ’’ another 
 an architect, and his inscription, “ Other foundation 
 can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus 
 Christ.” One stained glass window bears the 
 figure of St. Timothy, and is in memory of “Joseph 
 Atkin, a good soldier of Jesus Christ.” Another 
 presents Simon of Gyrene ; it is to Stephen 
 Taroaniara, and bears the legend, “On him they 
 laid the cross that he might bear it after Jesus.” 
 Another is to Bishop Patteson ; it is the Good 
 Shepherd, and the writing runs, “ It is I ; be not 
 afraid.” 
 
 And what a world of sacred romance is opened 
 by these simple records, w'hich read best just 
 as they stand : “ In memory of the first-fruits of 
 the Melanesian IMission, ‘ The Morian’s land shall 
 soon stretch out her hands unto God.’ ” “In 
 memory of the Right Rev. J. C. Patteson, ist 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION, 
 
 97 
 
 Bishop of Melanesia, killed at Nukapii, Sept. 20, 
 1871 ; also of the Rev. Joseph Atkin, of this 
 College, who died Sept. 29, 1871 ; and Stephen 
 Taroaniara, who died Sept. 28, 1871. These both 
 died of wounds received at Nukapu. Also of Fisher 
 Young, of Norfolk Island, who died Aug. 22, 1864, 
 and Edwin Nobbs, of the same island, who died 
 Sept. 5, 1864. These both died of wounds received 
 at Santa Cruz. Fisher Young was buried at Port 
 Patteson in Vanua Lava. The bodies of the 
 bishop and his other companions were committed 
 to the deep, in sure and certain hope of the 
 Resurrection to Eternal life.” 
 
 Again ; “ In memory of the Rev. W. Nihill, Fellow 
 of this College and Melanesian tutor, who died in 
 his Master’s service, at Nengone, one of the 
 Loyalty Isles, 28 April, 1855, aged 29 years. Also 
 in memory of G. Siapo, Isaka Vatu, Waderuhu, 
 of Nengone Island, G. Apale, John Thol, of Lita, 
 Will. Unru, of Erromango, scholars of this College 
 and first-fruits of the Melanesian Mission, A.D. 1851, 
 1852, 1853. The bodies of Siapo and Thol lie in 
 this chapel-yard ; Unru was committed to the 
 deep ; Waderuhu and Isaka Vatu were buried in 
 their own island. The spirits of them all, the 
 teacher and the taught, rest, as we trust, in the 
 Presence of their common Lord.” 
 
 When we passed out into the hot sunlight again 
 we gathered a handful of scented violets off a little 
 grave that bore the well-known name, and sent 
 them as a souvenir to Lichfield. 
 
 At the time of our visit the college, howevei* 
 picturesque, looked slightly deserted. There was 
 a flourishing grammar-school, but nothing more ; 
 
 II 
 
Q8 
 
 kO^ND Th£ round world 
 
 for the theological students had moved (it required 
 an Act of Parliament) into a suburb of Auckland, in 
 order to enable them to attend the university lec- 
 tures. Since then, however, they have returned to 
 their old home, and the place is flourishing. Owing 
 to the wise forethought of the founder, this invalu- 
 able institution has an endowment of ;^I400 a year. 
 
 In the afternoon we walked along the edge of 
 the deep broken cliff, where the yellow kawhai, 
 not unlike a laburnum, but with leaves like an acacia, 
 was already in thick blossom, and the huge pohutu- 
 kawas — not unlike evergreen oaks — leaned their 
 gnarled trunks and ponderous boughs over the 
 precipices. Like nearly all the New Zealand trees 
 (the fuchsia is the only exception I know), they are 
 evergreen. They are really giant myrtles. And at 
 Christmas these solemn trees, that seem incapable 
 of anything but a frown and unsuitable to anything 
 but a landscape by Salvator Rosa, are clothed in a 
 radiant robe of crimson blossoms, which has won 
 for them the name of “ Christmas trees.” 
 
 The next day the Bishop of Auckland showed 
 me over the native school at Parnell. It was 
 holiday time. A number of the boys, with bare 
 feet, were thoroughly enjoying a game of football ; 
 others, more studiously inclined, were amusing 
 themselves with drawing maps, and were doing it 
 uncommonly well. This was one among several 
 denominational schools which received partial 
 endowment from the State, on condition that pro- 
 vision should be made for the instruction of the 
 natives.- The school is very popular among them. 
 1 met in the Lake District several who had been 
 educated there. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 99 
 
 On Sunday they all attended St. Mary’s 
 Church. It is an interesting sight to see these 
 rows of dark intelligent faces, with their large, 
 liquid eyes, all attentive and devout. I must be 
 pardoned for recording again some words of 
 Bishop Selwyn, which deserve to be remembered. 
 He says, “ There is no honest or useful work, which 
 the boys are not willing to learn, or which the 
 parents are not willing they should be taught. In 
 forming an opinion of the possibility of civilizing 
 the whole rising generation of New Zealanders, 
 I have never perceived any practical impediment 
 except the difficulty of obtaining a sufficient number 
 of English instructors, who would devote them- 
 selves with all their heart to the work, and do for 
 the native children what every Christian parent 
 wishes to do for his own. . . . We often expect to 
 find ready-made in a native people the qualities 
 which we ourselves have learned with difficulty, 
 and which our own countrymen rapidly lose in the 
 unsettled and irresponsible slovenliness of colonial 
 life. We want a large supply of Oberlins and 
 Felix Neffs, who, having no sense of their own 
 dignity, will think nothing below it. . . . They 
 have received the gospel freely with an unques- 
 tioning faith ; but the unfavourable tendency of 
 native habits is every day dragging back many 
 into the state of sin from which they seemed to 
 have escaped. There is scarcely anything so small 
 as not to affect the permanence of Christianity in 
 this country. We require a man who will number 
 every hair of a native’s head as part of the work of 
 Him who made and redeemed the world.” 
 
 In the afternoon I visited Dr. Maunsell, formerly 
 
loo 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 archdeacon, who has done a great work for the 
 natives by giving them the Bible in their own 
 language — no easy task, considering the wide gaps 
 of thought, words, and historical associations that 
 had to be bridged over. Bishop Selwyn called 
 him “one of the best linguists in the mission.” 
 I found him in his study, busily engaged in pre- 
 paring a revised translation. An accident befell 
 his earliest translation. He had worked hard at it, 
 as usual, up to Saturday. On Saturday he left his 
 books and manuscript on the table and went away 
 for distant Sunday duty. A fire broke out in the 
 house, and everything was burned. I had heard 
 of this, and I asked Dr. Maunsell how far he had got. 
 “The last verse,” he replied, “that I had translated 
 was, ‘ Let not your heart be troubled ; ye believe 
 in God, believe also in Me.’ ” The labour of years 
 was destroyed. Next morning he sat down and 
 began the work all over again. 
 
 In our next mission (as afterwards in so many) 
 Canon Bodington and I worked apart. He took 
 All Saints’ ; I took St. Thomas’. The former parish 
 is large and actively worked, and the church is well 
 and reverently appointed and served. Mr. Boding- 
 ton gave a course of instructions on the Creed, and 
 took for his mission sermons the events in the last 
 week of our Lord’s life. St. Thomas’ parish is 
 sliced from St. Matthew’s. The church is small, 
 but reverently furnished. It was at that time the 
 only church in the diocese, and, I believe, in the 
 whole of the North Island, which boasted a 
 surpliced choir. In consequence of this they 
 were marched out for all diocesan functions ; and 
 on account of its unique rarity persons of a 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 lOI 
 
 nervous temperament trembled at the surplice in 
 the choir in the same way that some have 
 trembled before now at the surplice in the pulpit. 
 I had proposed to myself — in view of so many 
 missions in the neighbourhood — in order to vary 
 the manner of conveying the great message of faith 
 and repentance, which must always be the same, 
 to dwell in successive missions chiefly on One of 
 the Persons in the Blessed Trinity. Thus in the 
 St. Thomas’ Mission I brought into chief promi- 
 nence the Fatherhood of God, and took as the 
 basis of it the parable of the Prodigal Son. In 
 my next mission I took the Life and Passion of 
 Christ, and practically I got no further. I rested 
 there ; at least, in all short missions. All that one 
 wanted seemed to be there. The subject needs no 
 introduction, and appeals to educated and un- 
 educated, and to all shades of religious thought ; 
 and, besides, it gives at once the immense advan- 
 tage of presenting and keeping before the minds 
 of the people a graphic picture, as the fountain 
 and inspiration of all the mission teaching. I can 
 safely say that “ Christ and Him Crucified ” was 
 the theme of my mission. It was so at Onehunga 
 and Helensville, at Remuera, at Hamilton, at 
 Northcote. At the after-meeting I gave dogmatic 
 instructions on the Creed, or devotional instructions 
 on the subjective side of religion. 
 
 At St. Thomas’ there was a celebration of the 
 Holy Communion every morning at seven. The 
 little church stands near the shore of Freeman’s 
 Bay, an exquisite creek, where the tide runs up 
 under a low cliff covered with pines and dracsenas. 
 In the early grey of a moist spring morning, when 
 
102 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORtD 
 
 the tide was full, and wreaths and veils of delicate 
 mist were gently floating in the air, and the trees 
 were reflected in the slumbering water, and the 
 boats lay idly on the shore or resting on the tranquil 
 water, there was a wonderful sense of beauty and 
 of calm. 
 
 But there were two things that I inwardly 
 resented, going and returning. The one was a 
 blackbird in a cage, who was always shouting the 
 first eight notes of the tune, “ INIerrily danced 
 the Quaker’s Wife.” It appears that this is the 
 favourite and traditional tune to teach a blackbird. 
 Perhaps it learns it with fatal facility, because it 
 is not unlike — only a miserable caricature of — its 
 “ native wood notes wild.” The other thing which 
 vexed me was the backyard of a house where 
 there was a pump and a great mass of flowering 
 arums, and the women on washing-day insulted 
 the arums by hanging out upon them their clothes 
 to dry. When the mission was over I tried to 
 sketch that backyard, and this sketch I have 
 indignantly by me still.* 
 
 After one clear day’s rest and a large evening re- 
 ception at Bishopscourt we began another mission — • 
 Canon Bodington at St. Luke’s, Mount Albert, and 
 St. Jude’s, Avondale ; and I at St. Peter’s, Onehunga. 
 These missions only lasted five nights. At Mount 
 Albert my friend had his first experience of a real 
 colonial Sunday — the ground around the church 
 being occupied by carts, and buggies, and saddle- 
 horses, driven or ridden by settlers from long 
 distances. The horses are well accustomed to it, 
 and remain standing quietly for hours, tied to a 
 * See Frontispiece. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 103 
 
 post or a tree with a rug thrown over them. In 
 fact, a rope for this purpose is generally slung on 
 the saddle, or (for appearances are not regarded 
 much) wound round the animal’s neck. 
 
 Onehunga is the seaport on the western side of 
 the isthmus. It is on the Manukau harbour, which 
 with its creeks stretches inland “ like the fingers of 
 a great hand, as if feeling for the neighbouring 
 waters of the Tamaki, on the opposite side of the 
 island.” The church is one of the oldest in New 
 Zealand. The register bears Selwyn’s signature in 
 1867. The parsonage is surrounded by a lovely 
 garden, where, between the showers or through the 
 heavy pouring rain, the larks and blackbirds sang 
 like angels. A deserted pigstye in the field was 
 filled with masses of, arum, and whole armfuls of 
 gladiolus, ixia, narcissus, and lilies had been 
 chucked out and lay in heaps round the stye, 
 flowering prostrate and unplanted. Near the 
 village stands the pah” a fine house, magnificently 
 furnished, surrounded by parks, gardens, and 
 orchards, in which grow oranges, peaches, nectarines, 
 and guavas. The guavas were ripe, and we ate 
 them from the trees. Cock pheasants were crow- 
 ing among the groves of insigiiis pines and some- 
 times ran across the lawns. The verbenas grew as 
 large as fine auriculas. 
 
 That night I drove across the bridge to Mangerie, 
 a few miles away on the other shore of the harbour, 
 to hold service in a little room which was crowded. 
 The Presbyterians very kindly made an offer of 
 their little church, which, however, was not ac- 
 cepted. The church room is under the charge 
 of a lay reader. For nine years he used to take 
 
104 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD. 
 
 service in a little church two miles away, without 
 any kind of remuneration. He even gave up cows, 
 and took to sheep, to enable him to do it, until he 
 found he was becoming ruined. This is only one 
 instance out of many of the disinterested and 
 devoted work which colonial laymen do for the 
 Church. Since our visit this gentleman has been 
 ordained deacon, but still pursues his agricultural 
 labour. 
 
 From the wharf at Onehunga I talked through 
 the telephone with Bishopscourt, a distance of six 
 miles at least. This is the longest reach of voice 
 I ever exercised ; but a few days later I was told 
 by the officials that if I had only made the request 
 in time, they would have let me converse through 
 the sea at a distance of sixty. 
 
1 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The first of what I have called our “ excursions ” 
 was to the Kaipara district, in the northern penin- 
 sula ; and we commenced at Helensville, thirty 
 miles north of Auckland, a new settlement and the 
 head-quarters of the timber trade. We went by 
 train across dreary moors, where now and then 
 might be seen a gum-digger probing the soft earth 
 with his spear. It is well known that kauri gum 
 is one of the chief exports of New Zealand. All 
 qualities and quantities of it may be seen in those 
 mercantile labyrinths that involve the neighbour- 
 hood of Mark Lane. In colour it is like amber, 
 but it is too brittle to form a good subject for the 
 jeweller’s art. It is chiefly used for varnish. It is 
 found nowhere else but in New Zealand, and in 
 New Zealand only in the neighbourhood of Auck- 
 land ; and it is dug up on the site of ancient 
 
io6 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 forests which have long since disappeared. The 
 diggers — of whom there are some two thousand, 
 natives and colonists — pierce the ground until they 
 feel the gum ; they then dig it out. The price of 
 it is from ^^40 to ;;^5o per ton. 
 
 From this railway we caught our first sight of 
 the Phormium tenax, tire celebrated New Zealand 
 flax. It is a superb plant. At first, never having 
 seen it before, I took it for a kind of aloe. It is, 
 however, a lily. The leaves are straight, smooth, 
 and sword-shaped. They attain sometimes the 
 height of fifteen feet. The flowers are small and 
 crimson, in shape not unlike the gladiolus, and 
 they grow in a scattered bunch on the top of a fine, 
 thick stem, which rises above the bunch of leaves. 
 The plant is called flax from the strong fibre of its 
 leaves. The fibre is twice as strong as real flax, 
 and only less strong than silk. It is used by the 
 natives for everything. From it they make their 
 clothes, mats, baskets, ropes, and fishing-lines. In 
 building houses or canoes it serves them instead of 
 nails. 
 
 Helensville is the terminus of the railway. We 
 lodged at a little house on the border of a creek 
 that runs into the Kaipara river. The house was 
 noticeable only for the possession of a huge cat 
 called Peter. Peter, whenever there was any sun- 
 shine, lay in the verandah ; and a kingfisher with 
 white breast, tawny throat, blue head and back, 
 long beak, and short tail, kept playfully darting 
 down at it from its perch on the telegraph wires. 
 But sunshine was scarce during the week. Storms 
 and pelting rain and drifting clouds possessed the 
 ca.rth and the sky. In the afternoon, we taught a 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. I07 
 
 few children in a corner of the public hall, and at 
 night vve had an unprecedented service in the 
 same place. The end of the hall was, in fact, a 
 theatre with a stage, scenery, footlights, and 
 orchestra. The orchestra consisted of two violins, 
 two trumpets, a flute, a clarionet, an American 
 organ, and a pianoforte. It was the most incon- 
 gruous scene I ever witnessed. I am sure no 
 mission service was ever conducted with such sur- 
 roundings. But my friend was equal to the 
 occasion. Fully robed, he advanced to the foot- 
 lights with perfect serenity, and preached as if he 
 had been in Lichfield Cathedral. We soon forgot 
 the odd situation, and even failed to notice much 
 the pointers and setters that wandered listlessly 
 about the hall and sniffed fraternally and scientifi- 
 cally at the audience, and no doubt discovered to 
 their own satisfaction which among us were rogues 
 and which were not. In the night the wind blew 
 a hurricane, the house rocked, and storms of hail 
 dashed upon the roof and walls. The weather 
 was little better when, next day, my friend started 
 on his tour to the north. As the little steam-tug 
 puffed away between the mud banks of the Kaipara 
 river a man on the wharf remarked, “ They’ll have 
 a miserable time of it.” And so they had. The 
 river winds in wide, over-lapping loops through the 
 flat, desolate, grey marsh, and pours its muddy, 
 sluggish waters into a long, irregular harbour with 
 a wide gap westward to the ocean. The passage 
 across this gap is often dangerous to a little craft 
 like the Kina. But the rough bit was passed in 
 safety, and the toy ship steamed up the Wairoa 
 river — which is navigable for about sixty miles— =- 
 
io8 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 and was moored at the wharf at Tekopuru at 
 sunset. The service that night was in the public 
 hall, and was attended chiefly by men. 
 
 Another stormy night ushered in another stormy 
 and fatiguing day. Tide and storm were against 
 navigation, and it was decided to reach Manga- 
 whare and Dargaville on horseback. It was a 
 memorable excursion. Canon Bodington and the 
 clergyman of the district, clothed in waterproofs, 
 started after lunch in a downpour of rain. My 
 friend was mounted on a good little brown cob. 
 His companion rode an aged, raw-boned beast, 
 about twenty-five years old, which had been turned 
 out some time ago to die, and had not yet expired. 
 The first two or three miles were fairly good ; of 
 the rest it is only necessary to say that it was 
 deep New Zealand mud. Cock pheasants crowed 
 among the dull bush and burnt stumps that 
 bordered the way, and wild duck paddled about in 
 the pools. It was a slow, tedious march, and two 
 miles before reaching Dargaville, another timber 
 settlement on the river, further progress became 
 impossible ; the horses were abandoned and tied 
 to a rail near a solitary house, and the remainder 
 of the journey was performed on foot. Seven 
 women assembled in a reading-room at Manga- 
 whare, and twenty-two persons in Dargaville 
 Church. Perhaps on a Saturday, and such a 
 Saturday, more could not be expected. As the 
 service ended, a violent storm of rain, wind, and 
 thunder burst in fury on the building. The two 
 travellers, blinded by the storm, groped through 
 the pitchy darkness to a friendly house to borrow 
 a lantern, and so picked their way over field and 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 109 
 
 ditch till they found their poor horses, more 
 miserable than themselves, tied where they had 
 left them more than six hours before. It was 
 nearly midnight before the monotonous trudge 
 through the slush was ended, and the tired travellers 
 were sheltered from the pitiless rush of the rain. 
 It was not an ideal preparation for a hard Sunday. 
 
 The services on Sunday were held at Tekopuru 
 and at Aratapu. Aratapu is another timber settle- 
 ment, two miles above Tekopuru. It is locally 
 known as “ Sawdust City,” and it deserves the 
 name. It is built on the edge of the swamp that 
 lies between the river and the inland line of cliffs 
 that mark the former course of the estuary. Loads 
 of sawdust are carried from the mills and shot 
 down on the top of the rushes, the peat, and the 
 mud-holes ; piles ^are driven ini, and the houses 
 built on the piles. Dykes are cut at intervals to 
 carry off some of the surface water, and a few 
 gardens are formed round the houses. But a 
 more unwholesome site for a town could not be 
 imagined. It resembles the celebrated “ Eden ” 
 described in “ Martin Chuzzlewit.” The place 
 would be absolutely deadly, if it were not for the 
 vast quantity of sawdust from the kauri timber, 
 which acts as a disinfectant. The very streets and 
 roads are composed of sawdust. Nothing else is 
 used in Aratapu. The church stands in the middle 
 of the swamp, on piles. It is approached by a 
 plank road through the bush, with the mud and 
 sedge on either side, and forms quite an instructive 
 parable of “the narrow way,” reminding one of 
 Sir Noel Baton’s picture of Christian walking 
 through “ the Valley of the Shadow,” taken from 
 
no ROUND THE ROUN*D WORLD 
 
 Buny'an’s description. “ The pathway was here 
 also exceedingly narrow, and, therefore, good 
 Christian was the more put to it ; for when he 
 sought, in the dark, to shun the ditch on the one 
 hand, he was ready to tip over into the mire on 
 the other ; also, when he sought to escape the 
 mire, without great carefulness he would be ready 
 to fall into the ditch. Thus he went on, and I 
 heard him here sigh bitterly ; for, besides the 
 danger mentioned above, the pathway was here 
 so dark, that ofttimes, when he lift up his foot 
 to set forward, he knew not where or upon what 
 he should set it next.” 
 
 The Sunday schools in this district, and in many 
 other parts of the colony, are what are called 
 “ undenominational,” which practically comes to 
 mean, “ any denomination except the Church.” 
 All honour is due to those earnest and self-denying 
 men — chiefly of the working-classes — who give 
 their leisure time to the instruction of the children ; 
 but it is a great misfortune that the children of 
 Churchmen should be brought up in ignorance of 
 those definite and fundamental doctrines of the 
 Church contained in the Catechism and Prayer- 
 book, which we do not regard as being a kind of 
 appendix to Christianity, but as being the very 
 frame and fibre that gives to Christianity its 
 consistence, vitality, and force. The endeavour 
 to compose an unsectarian Christianity without 
 definite teaching, is like trying to build a house of 
 sawdust, instead of kauri logs. When Canon 
 Bodington entered the sawdust school the poor 
 children were beginning to sing an “ undenomina- 
 tional ’’hymn, evfery. verse of which ended with the 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. Ill 
 
 fefraiii “Jehovah Tsidkenu.” For all the children 
 knew of the meaning, it might have been in honour 
 of Chemosh or Milcom, but it furnished a subject 
 for an address. Scarcely a child knew the mean- 
 ing of our Lord’s name, and not one understood 
 the meaning of the word “ Christ.” 
 
 Dargaville was visited again on IMonday by 
 boat ; but the sail was of little use against the 
 tide, and nearly all the afternoon congregation 
 had disappeared by the time the town was reached. 
 At night, my friend — very" much knocked up by 
 fatigue, stiffness, and exposure to the weather — in 
 vain endeavoured to find a bed, and at last had to 
 be content with a sleepless night on the sofa on 
 board the Kina. Before sunrise the tug puffed 
 away down the Wairoa, across the Kaipara harbour, 
 and up the Kaipara river. Six miles from Helens- 
 ville the steamer ran aground. The passengers 
 scrambled into an open boat, which was so over- 
 crowded that the men hardly made any way 
 whatever against the stream. Fortunately the 
 Kina was floated at last, and the passengers 
 embarked. But once more the Kina stuck in the 
 mud, and the last half-mile was accomplished in 
 the boat, in time for the train for Auckland, which 
 was impatiently steaming on the wharf. 
 
 This was the end of the little excursion north. 
 From it may be guessed some of the hard work, 
 the difficulties, and dangers, with which the colonial 
 clergy in this district have to contend. One, who 
 was for a long tipae in charge of this district, 
 told me that he had sometimes to row fifty miles 
 up stream in a day, and had to keep a careful 
 watch upon the tides. Once, coming down stream, 
 
tI2 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 he delayed too long, and met the tide half-way. 
 He was compelled to stay six hours at midnight 
 till the tide turned. He stuck an oar into the 
 muddy bank, moored the boat, and “wished for 
 the day.” Under these conditions there is, no 
 doubt, much to be said in favour of a pipe of 
 tobacco. On another occasion he was summoned 
 by night. A lady, rowed by a Maori, came to 
 implore his help. Her husband was threatened by 
 the natives, who had surrounded the house. He 
 at once entered the boat. The Maori, stiff with 
 rowing against the tide, begged him to take his 
 place, which he did. When they were in the 
 broadest reach of the river, perhaps a mile broad, 
 the Maori said he was cold, and would resume his 
 place. In moving to the bench, he fell across the 
 side of the boat, which instantly filled with water. 
 The clergyman had the presence of mind to throw 
 himself on the other side, and righted the boat 
 just in time. If it had upset, they must have 
 perished in the dark, numbed by the cold. 
 
 But there is another side to the picture. If there 
 are difficulties and dangers, there is also excitement 
 and exercise, and freedom from conventionality ; 
 and, under the bright summer sun, even the mud 
 banks appear to smile. 
 
 While my friend was up the Wairoa, I continued 
 the mission in the little church at Helensville, which 
 is the stronghold of Free-thought, and explored 
 the neighbouring swamp and bush, which was full 
 of splendid tree-ferns and nikau palms. This palm 
 only grows in the northern part of the North 
 Island. The fronds are of a bluish green ; the 
 white heart of the undeveloped leaves is eaten, 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 113 
 
 and tastes like celery. Here, for the first time, I 
 admired the wealth of New Zealand ferns. Many 
 of them — for instance, varieties of the polypodium 
 and the hynienophylbim — climb the trees like ivy. 
 They push out strong, juicy, creeping suckers, which 
 worm their way up the trunks, and throw out a 
 profusion of lateral fronds. The trees, closely 
 garlanded and woven with masses of ferns, look 
 like pillars in a church carefully decorated for a 
 festival. I soon struck up a friendship with the 
 charming little fantails — birds with white breast, 
 black collar, head, and back, and brown tail tipped 
 with white. They have a jerky, sidelong motion, 
 like a titmouse, and the sudden dropping flight of 
 a fly-catcher. Their song consists of three little 
 notes in the minor scale, like the tuning of a 
 violin. They are very tame and friendly. 
 
 On returning one day from the wharf, where I 
 had been to hear news of the Kma, I passed 
 through the station on my way to the saw-mill. 
 Here I saw two men standing, and I invited them 
 to the service at night. “No, thank you,” one said; 
 “ we shall be better employed.” “ I’m glad to 
 hear you will be well employed,” I replied, “but 
 I thought yt)u might be able to spare an hour in 
 the evening for the mission.” “ Oh,” said the 
 other, “ I read the Bible a good deal ; it aniuses 
 me. What it Says in one place, it contradicts in 
 the next. I bought a Revised Version the other 
 day. Do you know, there are thirteen thousand 
 mistakes in it ? ” “I suppose you mean,” I said, 
 “differences in translation. Well, it’s very natural, 
 when you’re translating from one language into 
 another, to wish to alter it sometimes. You want 
 
 I 
 
ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 II4 
 
 to get the best reading, and then to give the best 
 and most exact translation. You would do so 
 with Shakspeare, and I don’t see why you 
 shouldn’t do so with the Bible.” “There now,” 
 said he, “ Shakspeare ; that’s a man I used to 
 have a great respect for until I found he had taken 
 it all out of Voltaire.” By this time a little crowd 
 had gathered round us, much interested in the 
 controversy. “ My dear friend,” I said, “ I don’t 
 want to make you uncomfortable in the presence 
 of these gentlemen, but you really must be aware 
 that the works of Shakspeare were all in print long 
 before Voltaire was born.” No ; he would have it 
 Shakspeare was an impostor, and had copied it 
 all out of Voltaire. The audience began to smile. 
 “Nay, John,” said his companion, “you’re wrong 
 there.” “Now,” said I, “you see you’re wrong 
 about Shakspeare, don’t you think, perhaps, you’re 
 making some mistake too about the Bible ? ” 
 The little group dispersed in amusement, and I 
 remained talking with the two, one of whom had 
 been skipper under Bishop Patteson, and had a 
 sincere love and reverence for him, and we parted 
 the best of friends. I found out that the champion of 
 Voltaire was the leader of Free-thought in the place. 
 
 In spite of the storms the mission was well 
 attended. One young man, the son of an English 
 vicar, rode three times from a place eight miles 
 away. He would not get home till towards mid- 
 night. Since then he has returned to England 
 and taken Holy Orders. 
 
 The superintendent of the Sunday school was 
 very hospitable. I knew something of his friends 
 in England, and on the walls of his house were 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 ns 
 
 photographs of places and persons familiar to me. 
 On my last day — a hot spring day — he gave me 
 a mount, and I rode with his two daughters to 
 Kau Kapakapa, some eight miles off, in the heart 
 of the kauri forest. The road, which was in some 
 places almost impassable, ran up a shallow valley, 
 through which a slow creek wound its way, amidst 
 dense, lofty thickets of manuka — another of the 
 myrtles, a shrub with a white may-flower, called 
 by the colonists “ tea-tree,” because they used to 
 make an infusion of the leaves in hot water — 
 dracaenas, flax, and tall grass. At the little hamlet 
 we were invited to dine by the owner of the forest. 
 Wild honey, of a dark colour like heather-honey, 
 was served at table. It had a slightly bitter taste. 
 Our kind host then rode with me into the bush to 
 see the vegetation and to watch the men at their 
 work. We tied our horses to a rail, and walked 
 through the dense bush. The north of the North 
 Island of New Zealand is the only part of the 
 world where the kauri grows. It is a splendid 
 pine. It runs up to more than 150 feet, and some 
 are known to be over 20 feet in diameter. The 
 trunk rises to a great height, smooth and straight 
 like the columns of a lofty cathedral, without a 
 branch. A single log contains sometimes 5000 
 feet of timber, and weighs five tons. I heard of 
 one which contained 9558 feet. Some trees have 
 12,000, 16,000, and even 30,000 feet of timber. A 
 single raft floated down from Tauhoa to Helensville 
 contained 300,000 feet. The roads or “slipways” 
 in the bush are formed of sawn logs placed side 
 by side. They are greased with fat, and the great 
 logs of kauri are attached by chains to a team of 
 
1 1-6 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 sixteen oxen. The chains often break. The creek 
 was full of these grand logs, and others were lying 
 on the bank ready to be pushed in when the water 
 should rise. Further on we saw the men engaged 
 in cross-felling the giant trees. The annual output 
 of kauri is reckoned to be 112,000,000 feet, and 
 there are 43 saw-mills, employing 8000 men. It 
 is sad to reflect that, unless speedy precautions are 
 taken, this magnificent pine will be exterminated, 
 and, as it is a very slow grower, its place will be 
 taken by another. Some say that in fifteen years, 
 some that in twenty-five, the kauri will be no more. 
 Next in importance to the kauri is the rimu, or red 
 pine, which is found everywhere in both islands. 
 It is a striking tree, both from its height and also 
 from the form and colour of the foliage, which 
 hangs straight and square from the boughs like 
 wet seaweed. The totara is another pine which 
 I first saw in this bush. It is largely used for piles 
 in the construction of piers, because it is impene- 
 trable by the sea-worm. Here too was the white 
 pine, or kahikatea, which is more common than 
 any of the others, and not so valuable for timber. 
 But the most extraordinary tree of all is the rata, 
 or, as it is called, the rata vine. New Zealand is 
 the land of myrtles, and the rata is one of them. 
 The seed is lodged first of all in the fork of a 
 forest tree, perhaps a rimu. The innocent-looking 
 plant drops a root, which hangs down swinging 
 like a rope till it touches the ground. Then it 
 takes root, and clings to the trunk of the fated 
 foster-parent. As it thickens it throws out lateral 
 roots on either side, which, like arms, clasp and 
 hug the tree in its embrace, and meet and join 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 I17 
 
 and thicken, till the rata looks like some awful 
 lizard or “dragon of the prime,” and in a few 
 years more the great rimu is stifled and killed 
 and altogether disappears. The rata actually 
 swallows it and eats it up. It fills out and unites 
 together, and then soars up aloft, and becomes a 
 giant forest-tree, crowned, in the summer, with 
 a blaze of scarlet blossom. 
 
 There is one more prodigy connected with the 
 rata. At its foot, and only there, is found the 
 “ vegetable caterpillar.” This is sometimes called 
 “ a caterpillar with a tree growing out of it.” This 
 is not quite correct. It is not a tree, but, it would 
 seem, a kind of fungus. I have two specimens. 
 The caterpillar is about three inches long, and the 
 vegetable growing out of it forms a kind of elonga- 
 tion of the caterpillar, as long again, or rather 
 longer than the caterpillar itself. Whether the 
 fungus, if it be a fungus, kills the caterpillar, or 
 grows out of it after death, is, I believe, not 
 known ; nor why it should be found only at the 
 foot of the lovely but fatal rata. 
 
 In this bush were also groves and groups of 
 tree-ferns, of all heights from one foot to thirty 
 feet and more, growing in picturesque clusters, 
 with graceful, sweeping fronds and rich brown 
 stems, and in the centre great, unfolding fronds 
 curled proudly like the crook of a bishop’s pastoral 
 staff, and underneath them the ground and the 
 fallen stems were carpeted and clothed with kid- 
 ney-fern, several varieties of hymenophyllwn and 
 polypodium, and other lustrous and delicate ferns. 
 Among them, now and then, as if to assert the 
 British rule, a vulgar dandelion thrust up its head. 
 
Ii8 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD. 
 
 I must mention one more curiosity — the kiakia. 
 This is an epiphyte. It hangs from the forks of 
 the trunks and branches in tufted bunches of long, 
 thin, curled leaves. In the centre is a thick, white 
 flower like a lily, with three conjoined stamens 
 something like elongated cones. The fleshy white 
 petals of the flower, which goes by the name of 
 tawera, are eaten as a delicacy. They are sweet 
 and juicy, but the outer portions have a bitter 
 taste. Rats and birds are fond of it, and so, as 
 we walked through the bush, we observed that the 
 woodcutters had.in many places tied up the leaves 
 of the kiakia in order to preserve the flower for 
 their own dessert. Cock pheasants were crowing 
 all round. We visited the ivhare, or wooden hut, 
 where the woodcutters lived. It was simply a small 
 oblong hut, with a table and benches and sleep- 
 ing bunks all round. An old man was cooking 
 meat, and also a pie, in a camp-oven, a sort of 
 caldron with an iron cover. The food was cooked 
 by piling ashes all over it. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Our next mission was on the North Shore, and 
 included Devonport, O’NciH’s Point, Takapuna, 
 Northcote, and the sugar- works. The North Shore 
 is a tongue of land that runs out towards Rangi- 
 tdto and forms a breakwater to the harbour. The 
 end is strongly fortified to protect the entrance. 
 The crown of this point, surmounted by a flag-staff, 
 is the most vivid green in the spring, which, as 
 the summer advances, changes to yellow. The 
 lawns intersected by fortification, the few trees, 
 the gleaming houses on the shore, the dark broken 
 cliffs, and the white sails of the fishing-boats, form 
 a little jewel of colour set in the blue sea, a 
 pleasant centre to the picture, with the grey or 
 purple peak of Rangitoto rising in the background. 
 The north shore is deeply indented by creeks 
 and bays filled with mangrove and reeds, and 
 overhung by rocks and trees, and backed with 
 cultivated fields, gardens, and villas. It would 
 lend itself perfectly to landscape gardening. At 
 Takapuna there is a lovely fresh-water lake bor- 
 
I 20 
 
 kOUNE) THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 dered with meadows, embosomed in pohutukawas 
 and eucalyptus and fringed with rushes. The 
 little stream that feeds it is bordered with maiden- 
 hair fern. The lake is only half a mile from the 
 sea. The view from the same window of the 
 charming’yilla built on the dividing ridge embraces 
 both lake and ocean.* 
 
 We returned to Auckland for the Diocesan 
 Synod, which lasted nine days. The sittings were 
 held in the library at Bishopscourt. The proceed- 
 ings opened by an address from the bishop ; and 
 in the evening there was a choral festival at the 
 Church of the Holy Sepulchre, in which fourteen 
 choirs joined. The church, which is large and 
 reverently furnished, was crowded in every part. 
 It was an inspiriting service. 
 
 Two days later, the annual Church meeting was 
 held in the Choral Hall. It is an informal gathering 
 held during the session of the Synod, where Church- 
 people have an opportunity of meeting and hearing 
 addresses on subjects of general interest. The 
 Archdeacon of Waimate read a very interesting 
 paper on the Maoris of the north. In his arch- 
 deaconry, he said, there were eight Maori clergy, 
 a hundred and twenty lay readers, and more than 
 a thousand communicants. Two new churches 
 had been built during the year, and more than 
 ;Ciooo collected. The native clergy have to grow 
 much of their own food, as the stipend of a priest 
 is only £ 6 o, that of a deacon only ;^’50. Canon 
 Bodington read a paper on lay preachers, and, at 
 the bishop’s request, I read a paper on Christianity 
 and Social Life. The large hall was full of people, 
 and there was some very good singing. 
 
 * See page 59. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 I2t 
 
 During the session of the Synod the Bishop of 
 Brisbane, brother-in-law to the Bishop of Auckland, 
 arrived on his way to his tropical Australian 
 diocese. I began work in London under him at 
 St. John’s Mission in Red Lion Square. What a 
 wild dream it would have seemed in those days 
 that we should both be preaching in the same 
 church, on the same day, on the opposite side of 
 the world ! It was very delightful to meet him 
 there, and, during my next mission, at St. Mark’s, 
 Remuera, he helped me by reading the prayers 
 and lessons almost every night. 
 
 Remuera is a fashionable suburb of the city. 
 The district extends for many miles. It would be 
 difficult to find anything more lovely than these 
 park-like slopes, with their succession of villas and 
 gardens, thick set with pines, and cypress, and 
 gum trees. During the mission I stayed in one of 
 these villas, called Woodcroft, with Dr. and Mrs. 
 Kinder. And here again I found another home. 
 Dr. Kinder was for many years in charge of St. 
 John’s College, Tamaki. He is a scholar, an artist, 
 and a botanist. His excellent library is one of 
 the best in the country. His faithful and highly- 
 finished sketches, especially of the Hot Lake 
 district, are beautiful and valuable, and of all the 
 lovely gardens in Auckland his own, although not 
 very large, is perhaps the richest and most brilliant. 
 The remembrance of it is like a happy dream. It 
 was a great privilege to be allowed to look upon 
 this paradise as a home ; and, to make it really a 
 home to me, everything was done that kindness 
 could suggest. My room opened on to the 
 verandah. A magnificent datura, laden with richly- 
 
122 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 scented, snow-white trumpet flowers, filled up the 
 angle of the house and thrust its loveliness over 
 and through the parapet of the verandah. Lilies 
 and gladiolus lifted their glorious heads and looked 
 into the room. Below the terrace lawn could be 
 seen a white fountain splashing, and a tree-fern, 
 and masses of banished arums in the field beyond. 
 
 growing six feet high. The ixias were specially 
 beautiful, white, pink, blue, and scarlet. Through 
 the boughs of the maritime pines and gum-trees 
 could be seen the wooded shores and clear shallows 
 of the harbour, and, beyond, the sails of fly- 
 ing boats, the North Head, and the island of 
 Rangitoto. As the church was a mile away and 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 123 
 
 I had to go three times a day, I had plenty of 
 exercise. 
 
 It was to me — for many reasons — a very happy 
 mission. The people were very sympathetic and 
 kind, and towards the en-d of the fourteen days, 
 when I had to spend a considerable part of the 
 day in the vestry, they brought me little meals to 
 the vestry door. But the feature of the mission 
 which afforded me the chief interest and pleasure 
 was a daily address to men in the railway 
 works at Newmarket, not far from the church. 
 The time was limited to a quarter of an hour. 
 The first day was like fighting a battle. The men 
 had to be won. They were not inclined to attend, 
 and they lounged about with their pipes and their 
 dinners in supercilious and good-humoured non- 
 chalance. The machinery whirred, engines shunted 
 about, a violent bell rang, hail raged and battered 
 on the zinc roof, and a blower screamed when the 
 time was up. But in a day or two all unnecessary 
 noises were stopped and the men crowded round 
 with interest ; the last day or two they clapped me 
 as I came in ; and, at the end, they passed a vote 
 of thanks. What chiefly interested them was the 
 asking and answering of questions. They them- 
 selves proposed it. They asked if I would devote 
 one day to answering their questions. I at once 
 — but with inward misgivings — assented. I had 
 never done anything of the kind before, and I 
 knew that I did not possess either the Parlia- 
 mentary gift of debate or a mental encyclopaedia. 
 I made one condition — that the questions should 
 be in writing. But I had no great occasion of 
 fear. If I was not a Solomon, my friends were 
 
i'24 ROUND THE ROUND WORLt) 
 
 more easily satisfied than the Queen of Sheba. 
 The scope of their questions may be judged by 
 these three : i. “ Do you not think that a working 
 man who takes pleasure in his glass of beer is 
 treading on dangerous ground ? ” 2. “ To be consis- 
 tent and follow the teachings of Jesus Christ, how 
 can you claim General Gordon and Fred Burnaby 
 as Christians, since they wilfully broke the sixth 
 Commandment, ‘ Thou shalt do no murder ’ ” 3. 
 
 “ Does not the State find the bishops to be useful 
 tools in promoting its policy ? Therefore the 
 State promotes them on the principle. You fiddle 
 to me, and I’ll dance to you.” 
 
 But the interest deepened around the question 
 of the immortality of the soul. There was a very 
 big man among the audience, who was, I believe, 
 a Christadelphian. He was a great theologian 
 in his way and could talk freely about nephcsh 
 and psyche. Confident in his mental and physical 
 powers, he came upon me with open mouth 
 as if he would eat me up. He was evidently 
 regarded by his mates as a Goliath, and I had to 
 play to him the part of David. He had, one could 
 see, overborne the rest with his weighty presence 
 and ponderous learning, and they looked upon me, 
 though with a crushed confidence, as a possible 
 deliverer. I obtained a key to the position from 
 one or two Christadelphian papers, which had been 
 disseminated in the sheds, and with a good library, 
 a Bible, and a little common sense, it was not 
 difficult to give the oppressed minds of his 
 companions some sense of relief. The particular 
 doctrine he advanced was that there was no such 
 thing possible as a life of the soul or spirit apart 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 125 
 
 from the body, but that at death the human being 
 not merelyslept,but perished, until the Resurrection. 
 I devoted two of our short middays — if not more — 
 to the task of refuting this particular heresy, which 
 my friend little thought to be as old as the days of 
 Origen and Beryllus of Bostra. The first day I 
 attacked it on general grounds. But the giant 
 was very impatient with Plato and Shakspeare. 
 The next day I argued from Scripture. My big 
 opponent was not convinced, but he was friendly, 
 and the others were delivered from “ the oppressor’s 
 wrong, the proud man’s contumely.” At the 
 request of the men I continued the midday 
 addresses for two days beyond the time. 
 
 The teaching of the mission at St. Mark’s was 
 emphasized by the death of Archdeacon Pritt, who 
 had been intimately associated with Bishop 
 Patteson and had only recently resigned the charge 
 of the parish. He had himself prepared the minds 
 of the people for the mission. In one of his last 
 sermons he spoke of it. “ Will any,” he said, “ be 
 inclined to feel that this is needless ; that we are 
 already too zealous, too devoted, too believing, too 
 practically religious, to need this spiritual stirring 
 up ? Surely one and all of us should desire with 
 our whole soul to join in this general intercession, 
 that all men may be brought nearer and nearer 
 still to Christ.” He died during the mission at the 
 vicarage, where his health had gradually given 
 way, and was buried in St. Mark’s churchyard on 
 All Saints’ Day. The bishop, assisted by the 
 Archdeacon of Auckland and Dr. Maunsell, con- 
 ducted the service, and celebrated the Holy 
 Communion immediately after the reading of the 
 
126 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 lesson. The church was crowded from end to 
 end. All remained during the service, and 
 a large number of persons, chiefly men, com- 
 municated. 
 
 The day after the nominal close of the mission, I 
 rode with one of the bishop’s sons across the lovely 
 Oaraki downs to call on Mr. Atkin, the father of 
 the Mr. Atkin who was with Bishop Patteson at 
 Nukapu, and died wounded with poisoned arrows. 
 In one room is a very valuable collection of island 
 curiosities. From there we rode down to the 
 beach at Kohimarama, which is a mass of shells — 
 cockles, telinas, and pectens. It seemed a shame 
 to crush them under the horses’ feet. But few of 
 the shells are double. Not long after I walked 
 there in the interests of conchology, and, another 
 day, dredged off the shore, but with little success. 
 Kohimarama was for some years the head-quarters 
 of the Melanesian Mission. The long line of 
 buildings was erected on the shore in i860, and 
 dedicated to St. Andrew, to be the home of the 
 Melanesian scholars brought from the islands in 
 the Southern Cross. And here, three years later, 
 seven of the boys died. But New Zealand was 
 found too cold and too far away; so in 1866 the 
 mission was transferred to Norfolk Island, where 
 it still is. The college at Kohimarama is now an 
 industrial school. Close to the buildings were 
 some Norfolk Island pines. One was planted by 
 Bishop Patteson, but it died — so they say — the 
 year that he fell at Nukapu. 
 
 I remember, on the side of the down behind the 
 college, coming across a little rivulet overhung 
 with drooping ferns, and, amongst the ferns, a 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 12; 
 
 young peach tree that appeared to have seeded 
 itself, and on the succulent branches several large 
 but unripe peaches. 
 
 On the Saturday after the mission I waded 
 with Dr. Purchas across the mud-flats past Oaraki 
 to a distant promontory. We picked up a number 
 of common shells and some exquisite lace-like 
 serpentine worked by insects on stones. The 
 shore abounds also in oysters. The shells are not 
 flat, but prettily crumpled. Near the promontory, 
 not very far from the shore, was a target. The 
 volunteer artillery at Resolution Point were making 
 very good practice at it. I thought the shots 
 were uncommonly close. And so it proved. For 
 it appeared that in their patriotic zeal they were 
 actually bombarding Kohimarama, where one or 
 two shells were dug up a few days later. 
 
 Oaraki is a small native settlement, and the only 
 one in the neighbourhood of Auckland. Among 
 the buildings are a little chapel and a school. In 
 the grass on the shore lies an old war canoe, ninety 
 feet long, broken and spoiled by the weather, but 
 beautifully carved. Not far off was another canoe 
 with a lofty carved stem in process of building. 
 This was finished by New Year’s Day, a great 
 Maori festival, and the crew — partly composed of 
 women — paddled a race against four boats’ crews 
 from the Nelson, Admiral Tryon, which hap- 
 pened to be in harbour. The Maoris droned a 
 chant as they paddled, and the chief, Paul, stood 
 up in the centre to urge them on. They came in 
 second to the captain’s gig, and only lost the race 
 by three seconds. 
 
 On the Sunday after the mission, which was 
 
I2S 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 supposed to be a holiday, I preached five times, at 
 St. Mark’s, at Panmure (three times), and at 
 Ellerslie. But the day was lovely and the country 
 was new to m-e. 
 
 While the mission at St. Mark’s was going on. 
 Canon Bodington conducted a mission at St. Mary’s, 
 Parnell. This is a fashionable and delightful 
 suburb, separated from the city by the Domain, 
 the cemetery, and a deep gully. The church is 
 very near to Bishopscourt, and is now used as the 
 Pro-cathedral. The two spires rising up among 
 the dark pines and crowning the summit of the 
 hill form a picturesque landmark. The mission 
 was remarkably well attended and aroused a great 
 deal of inquiry. There were more than a hundred 
 intercessions offered in the afternoon. Mr. Boding- 
 ton spent Saturday at Ellerslie, and Sunday at 
 Otahuhu, a pleasant little village on the narrow 
 neck of land between the waters of the Manukau 
 and Waitemata harbours. 
 
 We had often heard of the loyalty of the colonies. 
 On IMonday we had an opportunity of judging of 
 it for ourselves. It was the 9th of November, the 
 Prince of Wales’ birthday. It was observed as a 
 public holiday. There was a naval and land 
 fight, a cattle show, and, on the following day, 
 races. The military display was impressive. The 
 Russian fleet was to force an entrance into the 
 harbour and a landing was to be effected in St. 
 Hellier’s Bay. On the other hand, the Auckland 
 batteries were to blow up the fleet, and the 
 volunteers were to prevent the Russians landing or 
 to cut them to pieces if they did. We watched the 
 manoeuvres from the top of the house at Wood- 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 129 
 
 croft. The guns on the North Shore and Resolution 
 Point banged unceasingly, and a torpedo blew up 
 in the middle of the channel. The Russians landed, 
 and a desperate fight took place, and plenty of 
 loyal powder was burnt. 
 
 K 
 
130 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The second of our excursions was to the Waikato 
 district. The Waikato is a grand river, the largest 
 in the colony. It rises in the volcanoes of Tonga- 
 riro and Ruapehu, and flows through Lake Taupo, 
 the principal lake of the North Island. The natives 
 of this district are far the finest in the country. 
 They were really the masters of the land, which 
 they had conquered as far south even as Taranaki. 
 This district gave its name to the celebrated and 
 unfortunate war. 
 
 Canon Bodington stayed with the Archdeacon 
 of the Waikato at Cambridge, and conducted a 
 mission in his church. My work lay at Hamil- 
 ton, eleven miles lower down. The parsonage, 
 where I stayed, is a long, single-storied, wooden 
 house, with a verandah running the whole length 
 of it. It stands on the bank of the Waikato, 
 in a garden that slopes steeply down a hundred 
 feet to the river. The garden was a happy wilder- 
 ness of fruits, trees, ferns, and flowers, — gladiolu.s, 
 roses, carnations, and white lilies. 
 
 Here I spent six busy and delightful days, upon 
 which I shall always look back with joy. Beside 
 the services in church, I preached every day in 
 surplice and stole on the green, a square bit of 
 grass, shaded by two weeping willows, close to the 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 131 
 
 principal inn. I had a bell, which I rang loud to 
 call the men, and, as they assembled, we sang a 
 verse or two of the well-known mission hymn, 
 “ Lord, I hear of showers of blessing.” The men 
 were very fond of this hymn. It was, they re- 
 marked, a creed in itself. My address lasted about 
 ten minutes. Once or twice I had to reply to 
 questions proposed to me by one or two advocates 
 of what is known as “conditional immortality.” 
 After a few months of New Zealand, I became 
 quite brazen about open-air preaching. It is some- 
 thing like sea-bathing. There is always a nervous 
 flutter about it at first. But when you have taken 
 the first dip, you breathe again freely. Perhaps I 
 enjoyed it more than anything else. There is a 
 reality about it which is not always so evident in a 
 church. The audience is just the class you want 
 to reach, and just the class that would not be 
 reached in church. The gospel was born in the 
 open air, and in the open air it seems to renew its 
 youth. 
 
 As I was giving my last address. Canon 
 Bodington, driven by the archdeacon, arrived from 
 Cambridge. Although not well, and beginning to 
 feel the fatigue of continued work, he had — to 
 quote the words of the Church Gazette — during 
 six days, given “ no less than twenty addresses 
 (besides instructions and meditations), ranging in 
 length from twenty minutes to upwards of an 
 hour,” and there had been a great movement 
 among the people. The distance they came to 
 church was astonishing. The churchyard was 
 crowded with saddle-horses and buggies. Some 
 drove from a distance of twelve miles. One 
 
132 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 brought with him his five little children. Let us 
 hope they were none the worse for their long and 
 late excursion. One lady, who attended nearly 
 every service, had to ride seven miles and milk her 
 cows — a late milking — after she got home. No 
 doubt she also saddled her own horse. Nothing 
 of this kind comes amiss to ladies in New Zealand. 
 Servants — good ones especially — are scarce and 
 dear. The consequence is that ladies do a great 
 deal of work themselves. They milk the cows, 
 and harness the horses, and cook the dinner, and 
 sweep the rooms, and wash the linen. And all 
 that they attempt they do uncommonly well, and 
 they are neither ashamed nor proud of it. It im- 
 proves their health, and does not rob them of their 
 refinement. 
 
 After the address to men on Sunday afternoon, 
 I was greeted by an old acquaintance, who had 
 come twenty miles to see me. He used to work 
 at a coal-mine in my Derbyshire parish a few 
 years ago. Being a steady, hard-working man, he 
 had done very well in a short time. As an example 
 of what openings may be found, I will mention 
 what he told me of himself. The first year he 
 came out he obtained a place as foreman to a 
 farmer, and received £^0 per annum and all found. 
 I suppose that his wife’s services were included. 
 He has now sixteen acres of his own, and cows 
 and horses, and is building a house. He also 
 works on the railway, and — we may conclude — is 
 making his little fortune. “ My children,” he said, 
 “leave more on their plates now than they ever 
 had to eat in England.” It was his hyperbolic 
 expression for plenty. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 133 
 
 At a private house in Cambridge, Canon Boding- 
 ton was shown a great curiosity, an ancient relic of 
 the Maoris. It is the rudely carved figure of a 
 bird, which is said to have been brought by the 
 first wandering canoe of Maoris that touched these 
 shores some five hundred years ago. It was dug up 
 by a native under a tree and sold for a bottle of rum. 
 It is now priceless ; and the Maoris are very 
 envious of the possessor, who paid a high price for 
 it, and they consider that he is in great danger of 
 being bewitched by native enchantments. 
 
 From the Waikato valley we crossed to the 
 Thames valley. There is a railway as far as 
 Morrinsville. At the terminus a coach and four 
 horses was waiting for passengers, and took us 
 across the prodigious plain, with its swamps of 
 flax and (to us) new forms of fern, noticeably the 
 graceful glychenia, called, from the shape of its 
 growth, the umbrella fern. Some miles up the 
 valley were discernible the works of the Waioron- 
 gomai gold-mine. Te Aroha is not only a gold- 
 field, but also a health resort. Hot mineral springs 
 burst in several places from the mountain side. 
 They are highly charged with soda, sodium, 
 potash, silica, lithia, and other minerals, and they 
 vary in heat from 105° Fahrenheit to 119°. The 
 waters are said to be very like those of Vichy and 
 Ems. 
 
 At night we held a service in the public hall (a 
 church has since been built). The next day we 
 left for the Thames, which is the name of the town 
 as well as the river and the country. It is situated 
 thirty miles to the north, on the Firth of Thames, 
 a broad inlet of the Hauraki Gulf. We drove in 
 
134 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 an open, ramshackle buggy, drawn by two horses. 
 The first part of the way was over a plain of low 
 undulating mounds with morasses between. We 
 proceeded by a series of rushes, going full speed 
 downhill, across the makeshift bridges, and up the 
 opposite side as far as the impetus could carry us, 
 and then painfully crawling till the moment came 
 for another rush. In swampy places the road was 
 mended by faggots of manuka-scrub. The word 
 “jolting ” very feebly expresses our lively progress. 
 All the way on our right was a range of wooded 
 hills ; but there was only one part of the road 
 which was remarkable for beauty. This was a 
 mile or so of way winding up a wooded gorge and 
 over a rocky pass full of tree-ferns and vocal with 
 tuis. The tui is a comical bird. I am sorry to 
 use such an expression, for it seems to be speaking 
 against my own cloth. For the tui is called in 
 colonial language “ the parson bird.” The name 
 is due to the feathers, which are black, or a 
 mixture of undecided glossy blues and greens like 
 the starling’s coat, and on the throat is a pair of 
 prominent curling white feathers, corresponding to 
 the clerical bands, the relic of an ancient collar, 
 which has all but disappeared from the priest, but 
 still hangs about the lawyer and the university 
 proctor. The flight of the tui is short and jerky, 
 and its note corresponds to its flight. It is wild, 
 irregular, and flute-like, and always ends with a 
 “ Killuck, killuck, chuck.” The last note is always 
 low down in the scale. The termination is so 
 unmusical and abrupt that it gives the impression 
 that the “ parson bird ” is laughing at himself, as 
 though, just when he was beginning to sing like a 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 1 35 
 
 nightingale, he suddenly shut up, saying, “ Absurd ! 
 It’s no good my trying to sing. Chuck.” 
 
 The church at the Thames is one of the largest 
 in the diocese, and is patriotically dedicated to St. 
 George, probably in reference to the first bishop’s 
 name. There is also another little church, under 
 the charge of a lay reader, on the shore at Tararu. 
 On the Sunday afternoon I took a service there. 
 The weather was very hot, and, at this season, 
 there are quantities of noisy flies, which make a 
 shrill chirp like Italian cicalas. At the beginning 
 of the service the instrumentalist played on the 
 harmonium, no doubt in reference to the mission, 
 the well-known air, “ How lovely are the messengers 
 that bring us the gospel of peace.” The triple 
 time is very marked ; and, as the music began, a 
 cicala in the roof struck in with his shrill, emphatic 
 note, and beat a ludicrously correct and accentu- 
 ated time, distinctly heard above the music of the 
 harmonium. 
 
 The Thames is the centre of the gold-mining 
 industry of the North Island, and the richest gold- 
 field in New Zealand. It was opened in 1867. 
 The town, which contains a population of five 
 thousand souls, is long and irregular, and lies on 
 the narrow strip of flat ground between the 
 mountains and the east side of the Firth of 
 Thames. The water inshore is very shallow, 
 owing to the vast deposit made by the river, and, 
 when the tide is out, wide stretches of mud-flats 
 appear. The mountains rise very steeply from the 
 shore, and leave little room for the town below. 
 The streets are shaded by avenues of trees, and 
 refreshed by runnels of water. The deep gullies 
 
136 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 or creeks between the spurs of the mountains are 
 occupied by the shafts and buildings connected 
 with the gold-mines. Gold-mines sound poetical, 
 and call up visions of the “ Arabian Nights ; ” but, 
 as a matter of fact, they are distinctly dirty and, 
 except that they are not black, look like coal- 
 mines. We went one day down the Cambria gold- 
 mine in the Waiotahi creek, dressed in suits of 
 clothes picturesque* if not priestly, which made us 
 feel like David in Saul’s armour. The gold is 
 found in quartz reefs, and the mines are of an 
 unusual depth. Some are more than six hundred 
 feet deep. The Cambria is three hundred feet, 
 and the shaft very narrow and lined with wood. 
 We went down, a party of four, in a skip. It was 
 like descending a chimney, and our clothes brushed 
 the sides. In the roof and sides of the galleries 
 we could see the gold glistening. But an un- 
 practised eye is easily deceived. For “all is not 
 gold that glitters.’’ The stones with which the 
 roads are mended all glitter with minerals of little 
 value. 
 
 The gold-reefs are cracks and fissures in the 
 rock, caused by shrinkage, pressure, cleavage, or 
 volcanic upheaval, filled by the action of water 
 with quartz containing gold. Professor Black, of 
 Otago, whose acquaintance we made at the Thames, 
 was lecturing daily during our mission. He said 
 in one of his lectures that he had seen at the 
 Thames a quartz crystal containing a globule of 
 water, a conclusive evidence that the quartz reefs 
 had not been the result of upheavals of molten 
 rock. The gold came by water, and not by fire. 
 
 The miners are a fine set of men, very civil and 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 137 
 
 intelligent. The blasting in the mine is done by 
 cylinders of gunpowder. The men object to the 
 use of dynamite on account of the fumes. In 
 strong iron coffers in the office we saw picked 
 lumps of quartz richly loaded with gold, and worth 
 several thousand pounds. The special treasures 
 are selected from the mass on account of their 
 great value. Some of the picked stone has been 
 known to contain half its weight in gold. At the 
 lower end of the creek, where it opens out into the 
 flat, we watched the process of stamping the ore. 
 This word expresses with felicitous accuracy the 
 manner in which the quartz is crushed in the 
 battery. The battery consists of a row of heavy 
 beams shod with steel. These are raised by a 
 toothed wheel, and allowed to fall by their own 
 weight. The crushed ore is received first into a 
 trough of water mixed with mercury, and the gold 
 amalgamates with the mercury, from which it is 
 afterwards separated in the crucible. The re- 
 mainder flows over blankets on an inclined plane. 
 The blankets, which catch the particles of precious 
 metal, are wrung out every half-hour into swiftly- 
 revolving iron vessels, into which mercury is intro- 
 duced. The “ tailings,” or refuse, which once were 
 thrown away on the beach, are now carefully pre- 
 served and the gold extracted. This wonderful 
 mercury, which, almost like a trained living thing, 
 or one of the fabled Eastern genii, rushes at the 
 gold and imprisons it until in the crucible it is 
 forced to unlock its embrace and surrender its 
 captive riches, is used over and over again. 
 
 Some of the mines at the Thames have enjoyed 
 a fabulous fortune, and have “ far outshone the 
 
138 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 wealth of Ormus and of Ind.” The “Golden 
 Crown ” yielded ^200,000 dividend in one year. 
 In one year from the “ Caledonian ’’ quartz ten 
 tons of gold were extracted, and the vast sum of 
 £ 600,000 was distributed to the shareholders. 
 There are plenty of stories afloat recounting the 
 adventures of men and companies. They form 
 the romance of luck. One company, so runs the 
 tale from mouth to mouth, had exhausted its 
 capital in a ruinous endeavour to win gold from an 
 unprofitable mine. The mine was abandoned in 
 despair, and lay fallow. Another company took 
 the mine and “ salted ” it well with auriferous 
 treasures, advertised the prosperity of the mine, 
 ran the shares up to a good price, multiplied 
 shareholders, and then sold out and left the happy 
 possessors of scrip to their fate. Amongst them 
 were some energetic and speculative men, who 
 resolved to make the best of their misery and try 
 their luck. They were rewarded by striking a rich 
 lode, and making large fortunes. One man, who 
 held many shares, returning to the Thames after 
 a long absence, found .i^'20,ooo lying to his credit 
 at the bank, and made ;^ 6 o,ooo more by selling 
 out. Another miner, who had spent all his money 
 on mining and obtained no return for his labour 
 and expense, entered a boat to cross the firth, 
 and sorrowfully rowed away from the scene of his 
 disappointment. The western sun was shining on 
 the steep hills, furrowed with deep watercourses, 
 through which the moisture slipped to the sea. As 
 the miner rowed away he looked up, and a flash 
 of light, as if reflected from a mirror, caught his 
 eye like a signal to return. He accordingly 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION, 
 
 139 
 
 took the bearings of the spot, put back to shore, 
 climbed the hill, and found the water dripping in 
 a thin sheet over the bright surface of a golden 
 nugget. 
 
 To these stalwart miners, lucky or unlucky, but 
 all hard-working, and to the stockbrokers who pur- 
 sued their trade in a side street, I preached at four 
 in the afternoon as they returned in little com- 
 panies from their work. They gathered round a 
 corner at the sound of the bell, and joined heartily 
 in the hymn, and listened with attention. Unfor- 
 tunately for the mission, it, coincided with Professor 
 Black’s lectures. It was hardly to be expected 
 that many of the men would sacrifice the benefit 
 of those important instructions in order to come 
 to church at night. But they crowded to Mr. 
 Bodington’s Sunday address, and the church was 
 often full. We felt that the mission ought to 
 have lasted twelve days, and that there was a great 
 opening for work. After the last service we found 
 in the box at the door a coin wrapped up in a 
 piece of paper, on which was scribbled a pathetic 
 little appeal, “ Come back and help us.” 
 
 One of the sights of the neighbourhood is a 
 magnificent kauri, growing in a cleared space over 
 the hills on their eastern slope. It rises smooth 
 and columnar for sixty feet without a break, and 
 then towers aloft for eighty feet more. At six 
 feet from the ground it girths six and forty feet. 
 We rode to visit it up the steep winding track, 
 that reminds one of the Forclaz, at the head of the 
 Chamounix valley. A rough and broken “ slip- 
 way,” which deserved its name and tested the 
 foot-sureness of our horses, guided us to the spot. 
 
140 
 
 ROUND THE round WORLD 
 
 On the summit of the pass stands a long, wooden 
 shanty that used to be a store. It is now used 
 as a cottage. I found the inhabitants kind, but 
 practically heathen. The children had never heard 
 
 our Lord’s name, and never said a prayer. I 
 taught them a short prayer while I sat sketching 
 and they “tented ” their goats. 
 
 The view from the summit of these hills is superb. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 141 
 
 Deep gullies and sombre ravines split the hills 
 into steep, serrated ridges. The outlines of the hills 
 are softened by yellow grasses and flowers ; and 
 their sides and hollows are clothed with evergreen 
 forest trees and shrubs, that fill the landscape with 
 round, rolling waves of dark foliage, and brilliant 
 flowers, and tufted parasites. Through the parted 
 hills are seen soft glimpses of the immense plain 
 and the white zigzag lines of the river, or the 
 steaming flats and blue waters of the firth ; and 
 far away, beyond the smoke of bush fires and the 
 mists of the marsh, half wrapped in the warm blue 
 haze of wandering summer clouds, arise the noble 
 peaks of Te Aroha. Tree-ferns grow here to the 
 height of thirty or forty feet. Here flowers the 
 rare white rata. Here the beautiful mungi-mungi 
 creeps round the roots of the trees, and drooping 
 ferns decorate the stems. Quaint green orchises, 
 with a single flower, grow in the moist banks, and 
 where the forest gives place to glades of grass and 
 brushwood, the English foxglove luxuriates like a 
 true colonist in its adopted soil. 
 
 We steamed back to Auckland in the Rotoma- 
 hana, a lovely trip of fifty miles, enjoying changing 
 views of the Coromandel range and the islands of 
 Ponui, Waiheke, Motutapu, and Rangitoto, and, 
 three days later, began a mission at the arch- 
 deacon’s church of St. Sepulchre and at the 
 churches of the Epiphany and of St. Barnabas. 
 
 We were both received together by the Bishop of 
 Auckland in the large mother-church of St. Sepul- 
 chre, and then we had to part again, except that 
 I repaired to the mother-church every day at a 
 quarter past five, to give an instruction on some of 
 
142 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 the mysteries of the faith. This course was ad- 
 dressed to men, and was given in answer to a 
 written petition signed by a considerable number, 
 who pledged themselves to attend and to bring 
 others with them. The evening hour was chosen 
 in order to suit gentlemen returning from their 
 offices. We were now in Advent, and Mr. Boding- 
 ton took for his evening mission - sermons the 
 Epistles to the Seven Churches of Asia. Advent 
 in Auckland does not bring fogs, and “ the moist 
 rich smell of the rotting leaves,” and the mellow 
 song of the robin, and “calm decay.” It is the 
 season of exuberant and gorgeous bloom. And 
 from Advent to the New Year children’s flower- 
 services are often held. We had several during 
 our missions, and very pretty it was to see the long 
 lines of boys and girls filing reverently past the 
 sanctuary to deposit their flowers, and dear little 
 mites, half hidden in their deep white summer 
 hoods, toddling up to the altar with large bunches 
 of lilies, more regal in their array “than even 
 Solomon in all his glory.” 
 
 The church of St. Barnabas is one of the oldest 
 in the diocese. It stands now at the foot of Mount 
 Eden, and commands a lovely view over the plain 
 bounded by the Waitakarei Hills. But at the 
 Antipodes houses and churches are like tents and 
 tabernacles. They are pitched rather than built. 
 And they move. I remember seeing a large build- 
 ing at the Thames slowly creeping to a new site 
 with the aid of powerful jacks, and at Dunedin a 
 small house that appeared to be tippling over, but 
 was in reality only walking downhill like a tortoise. 
 The church of St. Barnabas has done the same. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 H3 
 
 It used to stand on the brow of the low cliff that 
 fronts Mechanics’ Bay, and was often filled with 
 crowds of dusky and devoted Maoris, who left 
 their long canoes at the beach below, and climbed 
 the rocky path to worship before they carried their 
 peaches and potatoes to the Auckland market. 
 Bishop Selwyn used to contrast these assemblies 
 of natives, who joined in the services so reverently 
 and heartily, with the “ silent and unknceling ” 
 colonial congregations. 
 
 During the mission the foundation-stone was 
 laid of another church in the wide parish of St. 
 Sepulchre’s. The place was called Mount Roskill, 
 and the church was to be dedicated to St. 
 Alban. The church was, of course, of wood, and 
 the frame was erected already, and set on low 
 walls of volcanic stone built together without 
 mortar. The corner-stone was the only one that 
 was set with mortar. Perhaps this was done merely 
 in order to give the lady who laid it something 
 to do. The archdeacon and Canon Bodington 
 read the prayers, and I gave an address, while the 
 people sat in picturesque groups on the grassy 
 slopes. The sum of £ 2 ^ was collected. In the 
 course of my address, I naturally touched in passing 
 upon the story of the soldier-saint whose name 
 their future church was destined to bear, and I 
 quoted in reference to it a few lines from Words- 
 worth’s “ Happy Warrior.” I mention this inci- 
 dent because it gave rise to the first note of 
 opposition to our teaching. On the following day 
 a Wesleyan preacher, at a chapel anniversary, 
 made fun of the ceremony at Mount Roskill, and 
 said that “ the missioners could come here sixteen 
 
144 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 thousand miles to tell us who St. Alban was, but 
 not who Jesus Christ was.” This we learned from 
 a letter written by a Churchman to one of the 
 newspapers, complaining of the injustice and un- 
 truth of the remark, and saying how “completely 
 (we) made Christ the burden of (our) theme.” 
 The preacher probably did not reflect what an 
 evident tu qiioqiie was offered by his own sermon. 
 He accused us of preaching about the “ English 
 protomartyr;” but he laid himself open to the 
 accusation of preaching about us. The missioners 
 preached about St. Alban ; the Wesleyans preached 
 about the missioners. In any case our teaching 
 was more worthy than theirs. We preached about 
 saints, and they preached about sinners. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 145 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 But it was during our next mission together at 
 St. Paul’s (our last mission in the diocese with 
 the exception of the Taranaki district) that the 
 storm — if this is not too big a word — burst upon 
 us. The immediate origin of it was this. Two 
 days before the affair at Mount Roskill, I had 
 written a letter to a gentleman at Hamilton, in 
 reply to one received from him, explaining concisely 
 (for in a mission one has not much time to spare) 
 my teaching at Hamilton on the subject of “the 
 Holy Catholic Church.” * The letter was not 
 addressed to the newspapers. It was a private 
 letter, but, as I wished it to be shown to other 
 persons at Hamilton who had attended the mission, 
 I told my correspondent that he was at liberty to 
 make what use he pleased of it. And I dare say 
 I may have contemplated without any peculiar 
 dread the risk of its appearing in the Waikato 
 Times. In fact, it did appear there, and from thence 
 it was copied into the Auckland newspapers on the 
 very day that our mission began at St. Paul’s. At 
 the same time we published a manual of repent- 
 ance and reconciliation, under the title of “The 
 Marriage Garment.” This little book, which in a 
 
 * See Appendix. 
 
 L 
 
146 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 revised form has since been adopted by the Society 
 for the Promotion of Christian Knowledge, is 
 almost word for word taken from the Book of 
 Common Prayer. In it we endeavoured to explain 
 how a baptized soul might obtain peace with God 
 without any private intervention of the priest, 
 confession being made and forgiveness realized in 
 the solitude of home, and absolution being sought 
 in the public absolution pronounced by the priest 
 during the service of Holy Communion. But, 
 however mild, simple, pacific and candid our inten- 
 tion and our words, the letter and the book together 
 touched Auckland to the quick. “ Nothing ” — I 
 quote from a hostile newspaper — “ nothing, which 
 this week professed to take cognizance of the topics 
 of common conversation, could be complete with- 
 out a reference to the missioners. They and their 
 doings have been the almost exclusive subjects of 
 discussion. The war in Bulgaria, the fighting in 
 Egypt, the English elections, Sir Julius Vogel’s 
 manifesto, all have paled before Mr. Bodington 
 and Mr. Mason. We have had them in the streets, 
 the market-places, the clubs, the hotels, the 
 drawing-rooms, ay, and the kitchens.” It must 
 not be supposed that all that was written or said 
 was against us. On the contrary, there were not 
 a few who stemmed the storm. But, naturally, 
 opponents made the most noise, and for a time 
 newspapers and chapels pattered and pelted like 
 a New Zealand September shower. Abuse reached 
 a climax in a Dissenting newspaper, which showed 
 a versatile and inventive ingenuity in the fertility 
 of vituperation. In the midst of it all it was 
 deeply touching to receive such letters as this from 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 147 
 
 every class, but chiefly from the poor : “ Oh, sir, if 
 you only knew the peace and comfort your words 
 has brought to one weary soul. Never before has 
 such a holy calm reigned within my soul. It is 
 not an excitement, but a true peace, which only 
 Christ can give.” 
 
 If we had been conscious of unfaithfulness to 
 the teaching of the Church, or if we had forfeited 
 the confidence of those who had sent us out or 
 those who had invited us, or if we had cherished 
 any concealed motives, or if we had failed in love 
 toward the Dissneters, we might have been made 
 very unhappy, but, as things were, for my part I 
 must confess I enjoyed the storm. The weather 
 was overpoweringly hot, and the storm had quite 
 a bracing and invigorating effect. We had very 
 good reason for knowing that our teaching on 
 “ repentance toward God,” repeated in every 
 church and expressed in the “ Marriage Garment,” 
 had brought blessing and help to many persons. 
 And I had the best evidence to show me that my 
 letter, which was supposed to be Roman in its 
 tendency, acted precisely and strongly in the 
 opposite direction. Our opponents admitted our 
 candour. We “evidently” (to quote again from the 
 newspapers) “did not mean to make language 
 conceal (our) thoughts, but to put our theology 
 into such a form as both to evangelize and to 
 catholicize the Church of New Zealand.” The 
 Church of New Zealand was both Evangelical and 
 Catholic before we came, though perhaps some 
 members of the Church were not. For the Church 
 is not to be judged by the current opinion of even 
 a majority of her members, but by the formularies 
 
148 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 contained in her Prayer-book, and by the standards 
 to which she refers. If we helped in any degree 
 to make the Churchmen of Auckland better 
 Evangelicals or better Catholics than they were 
 before the mission — in other words, to lift them up 
 more on to a level with the words they repeat in 
 their churches, the prayers they say, and the sacra- 
 ments they receive — we ought heartily to thank 
 God for answering the many prayers, both at home 
 and in the colony, which were offered with this 
 intention, and for this end ; and, no doubt, if any- 
 thing could more than any other conduce to that 
 end, it would be the unexpected and unhoped-for 
 diffusion of our teaching by means of this excite- 
 ment in the city of Auckland. 
 
 But, beside the serious aspect of the question, 
 there was another, which, as I said, I really enjoyed. 
 There was much about it that was not only 
 amusing but heartily and joyfully comical. It 
 was a novelty to be epigrammatically attacked in 
 the form of advertisement. Here are two which 
 appeared side by side : — 
 
 C HRISTIANS — Read the utter rubbish contained in Rev. 
 G. E. Mason’s Letter in to-day’s Herald. 
 
 C HURCHMEN — “Prove all things.” Compare Rev. G. E, 
 Mason’s Letter with the teachings of the Word. 
 
 And here is another which sounds very well, 
 read aloud 
 
 "XT OT preachers to men, women, and children of the Glorious 
 In Gospel, Believe on Him, and Live. But instead thereof, 
 Anglicanism, Iligh-Churchism, and Absolution. ^lissioner priests. 
 Wretched failure, (i Corinthians ii. 2.) 
 
 And here is another, which took its place between 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 149 
 
 an advertisement of Fernandez’ ladies’ hats, and 
 a notice of Metcalfe’s crinolines : — 
 
 D issenters — “ Rejoice evermore ” that you are not fettered^ 
 but gloriously free from Priest-craft. \1(:le Rev. G. E. 
 Mason’s Letter. 
 
 These sharp letter advertisements might be 
 compared to pistol-shots. But there were leading 
 articles, and letters, and pamphlets that pounded 
 away like big guns. “ Mr. Mason,” they said, 
 “is a regular rara avis in terra, and is regarded 
 with that sort of curious awe with which a moa 
 would be if it suddenly appeared some fine after- 
 noon in Queen Street.” But I was not only called 
 a fossil and a moa — an extinct and giant ostrich. 
 More refined punishments still were in store for 
 me. The postman, whose pronunciation of the 
 first letter of the alphabet betrayed the fact that 
 the home of his ancestors lay north of the Tweed, 
 when by a stretch of a Scotch conscience in favour 
 of the virtue of charity he had brought letters to 
 St. Paul’s Vicarage on the Sabbath, told the 
 servant that I should have had my English letters 
 too, “ if it hadna bin for the Sivin Sacraments.” 
 During the St. Paul’s Mission, I gave a daily 
 mid-day address in an empty room that opened 
 on the Queen Street pavement. The subjects I 
 chose were Love, Life, Liberty, Purity, Duty, the 
 Cross of Christ, Grace, and Forgiveness. As a 
 crowning criticism on our teaching, one gentleman 
 remained behind after one of these addresses, to 
 remonstrate seriously with me, because I was “ too 
 much like the Wesleyans.” 
 
 Landsmen on their first voyage encountering 
 for the first time a gale at sea, no doubt, at night. 
 
ISO ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 when the ship lurches, and then heels over a few 
 inches more, and they have to clutch the side of 
 the berth to prevent themselves rolling on to the 
 floor, feel convinced that the ship must go down, 
 and experience a sense of relief when a corre- 
 sponding big wave bangs the ship on the other side, 
 and, although it makes the timbers creak and the 
 vessel shudder, yet appears to knock her upright 
 into equilibrium and safety ; so a poor missioner 
 navigating the untried colonial deep, sailing near 
 the wind with closely reefed topsails, and bending 
 under the repeated blows of billows that leap upon 
 him all on the port side, is really grateful now 
 and then to be banged on the starboard. 
 
 But what lies at the bottom of these agitations } 
 It is this. The Church of England alone is not 
 permitted to have distinctive doctrines — still less 
 to explain them. If she does, poor Mother Church ! 
 at once she is accused of bigotry and intolerance. 
 In a free country all are equal. There is no 
 established religion, and therefore the Church of 
 England, who in England may be excused now 
 and then for waking up and saying to the diver- 
 gent sects, “ You are all of you wrong,” in England’s 
 colonies must lie still and murmur, “You are all of 
 you right.” Bishop Selwyn, in his New Zealand 
 episcopate, fully realized and felt the position. “ It 
 is not true,” he writes, “that we persecute them 
 (the Dissenters), but that they will not tolerate the 
 Church.” It is easy to see why we may not teach 
 all our own doctrines. It is because the Church of 
 England is the happy hunting-ground of all the 
 sects. The gamekeeper must not spoil — it is in- 
 tolerant and mediaeval — the poacher’s sport. The 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 151 
 
 pickpocket says to the wealthy passenger, “ Dear 
 and honoured sir, I am going to pick your pocket ; 
 kindly turn your head the other way, because if 
 )'’Ou were by chance to look this way, there might 
 be a row, and that, you know, would be a pity.” 
 
 VVe furnish the Dissenters with an unfailing 
 supply of recruits. People are mistaken if they 
 suppose that, because the surface of things is 
 smooth, the Church is not attacked. Let me 
 again say what Bishop Selwyn experienced in the 
 South Island, where white teachers had never 
 penetrated yet. “ Native teachers,” he says, “from 
 other places had carefully informed them (the 
 natives) of the difference between Hahi and 
 Weteri ” — the Church and Wesley. The truth 
 is, that there is not a single point of the Church’s 
 doctrine, discipline, practice, and worship, even 
 down to the use of a form of prayer, which does 
 not furnish innumerable and congenial subjects to 
 the Dissenting pulpit, “ to point a moral, or adorn 
 a tale,” or animate a prayer. They sorrowfully 
 expose, one by one, for the purposes of pity and 
 self-congratulation, the sins, negligences, and ignor- 
 ances of that Church to which they owe their 
 colony and their Bible. 
 
 They are quite right to do it. I find no shadow 
 of fault with them at all. For, if there is no 
 difference of doctrine, they condemn themselves 
 for leaving us. If there are no points at issue 
 between us, why do they continue separate 
 
 But the complexion of affairs entirely changes 
 when the position is reversed. They think it quite 
 natural and justifiable carefully to explain all our 
 lamentable superstitions and errors, our want of 
 
152 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 spiritual religion, our bondage to forms, our 
 bondage to the State, our unmeaning ceremonies, 
 and the sad relics of Popery that still disfigure our 
 Prayer-book ; but the moment the Church begins 
 to defend her own position and to emphasize her 
 teachings, to explain the charter of her existence 
 and the reason of her claims to her children’s 
 allegiance, to point out why her sheep should not 
 renounce their true pastors and wander from her 
 ancient fold, to distinguish between the Church of 
 God and a sect of human origin, to explain, in 
 fine, that Weteri is not Hahi — all at once there is 
 an uproar ; we are “ unchurching ” “ the Churches.” 
 But it seems to me that you cannot unmake what 
 never was made, nor unchurch a company of men 
 which never was a Church. 
 
 But what is this nineteenth-century theory of 
 “ Churches ” ? Was it really the ideal intention of 
 Christ, of St. John, and of St. Paul, that there should 
 be in every little village three or four “ Churches ” 
 disrupt and dissociate, as though Christ were 
 divided, or Wesley or Paul were crucified for 
 us } 
 
 Before we can justly be accused of unchurching 
 the “ Churches,” the “Churches ” must tell us when 
 they became Churches, and who made them to be 
 so. Is it lawful and justifiable for two or three, 
 at any time and place, to form themselves into a 
 Church? If, in our New Zealand Mission, my 
 friend and I had invited some men and women to 
 leave the Church of New Zealand and, along with 
 us, to establish a separate community, would it 
 have been intolerant and ungenerous on the part 
 of the Bishop of Auckland to deny our right to be 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 153 
 
 called a Church, and to prohibit his people from 
 forsaking himself? 
 
 On this modern hypothesis of the “ Churches,"’ 
 many in one place, and all divided from each 
 other by middle walls of partition, what fault can 
 be found with the New Zealand Hau-Haus ? 
 Why is it not illiberal to deny to them the title 
 of the Hau-Hau Church? If infinitesimal sub- 
 division is no sin, and to shave off doctrine after 
 doctrine is no bar to a community being reckoned 
 not only as a Christian community, but as “ a 
 Church,” on what principle of justice shall we, in 
 a free country, deny to our fellow-citizens and 
 brothers in the King Country the titles of Christian 
 honour we so jealously grasp for ourselves ? 
 
 The Wesleyans repudiate Confirmation and Holy 
 Orders, the Baptists Infant Baptism, and the 
 Quakers all Sacraments. The Unitarians deny 
 the Divinity of Christ, the Christadelphians the 
 immortality of the soul, and — it is, no doubt, a 
 considerable interval, but the interval might be 
 lessened by a multiplied and graduated list of 
 sects — the Hau-Haus deny many more doctrines. 
 But, if separations and doctrinal subtractions ad 
 libitum are allowable, what right have we to draw 
 arbitrary lines ? 
 
 You may speak of the Church of England, or 
 the Church of France, or the Church of Russia, 
 or the Church of Rome, or the Church of New 
 Zealand, or the Church of Greece; for, though some 
 of them are on speaking terms and others are not, 
 yet, fundamentally and historically, they all are 
 one. But you cannot speak of the Wesleyan 
 Church, or the Baptist Church, or the Quaker 
 
154 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 Church, or the Unitarian Church, or the Christa- 
 delphian Church, or — if you do — you must add the 
 Hau-Hau Church to the list. The Hau-Haus 
 have thrown away a great deal, but they have not 
 thrown away quite all. 
 
 Some of our critics in the public newspapers 
 were only following the line of disintegrating 
 modern thought to its ultimate and legitimate 
 conclusion when they said — I am quoting their 
 words — “Christ avoided forming any Church 
 during His lifetime, and simply desired His 
 religion to grow by personal precept and practice ; ’’ 
 and, again, it does not “seem prudent to dogmatize 
 on such incomprehensible mysteries as the Trinity 
 and the Incarnation.’’ 
 
 But a clear conception of the Church, as his- 
 torically one and indivisible, does not imply 
 animosity towards those who have not grasped 
 this conception. We never quarrelled with Dis- 
 senters, nor ceased to love them. And we were 
 never tempted to deny their good works, or their 
 good lives, or their Christian love and zeal. On 
 the contrary, we were always on the most cordial 
 terms with them, and always found them among 
 our warmest friends and adherents and our most 
 assiduous hearers. We rejoice to think that in 
 so many points they are at one with the Church, 
 and we only wish they were in all. 
 
 St. Paul’s is the mother-church of Auckland. 
 It was opened on the 7th of May, 1843, 
 consecrated by Bishop Selwyn in the March of 
 the following year. The original building was of 
 brick, and it was the first sight that greeted the 
 voyager as he sailed up the harbour. But the 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION, 
 
 155 
 
 church was pulled down in the beginning of 1885, 
 because the site was wanted for public purposes, 
 and meantime the services were conducted in a 
 temporary wooden building. The course of the 
 mission was diversified by an ordination, in which 
 we took part, and Canon Bodington preached the 
 sermon. Two deacons were admitted to the priest- 
 hood. The mission was attended by a gentleman 
 who had recently returned from official duties in 
 Fiji. He described, in an amusing manner, the 
 idleness and apathy of the natives. They are like 
 the lotus-eaters. Their chief occupation is to lie 
 on mats on the ground ; their favourite expression 
 when asked to do anything is a word which 
 means “ by-and-by,” and their soothing farewell 
 is, “ Go and sleep.” Once, observing a shapeless 
 bundle on the ground, this gentleman inquired 
 what it was. “ Oh,” said they, “ it’s only a bulu ; ” 
 that is, a corpse. He observed it move. He went 
 up to it, and asked the bulu if it wished to live. 
 The bulu was a woman fifty years of age. She 
 replied “Yes,” and the Englishman saved her life. 
 But their views of life and death are curious, as 
 the following story will show. An old man, feeling 
 very weary of life, expressed a wish to be buried, 
 and begged his friends to do it. So they dug a 
 nice and suitable grave for him on the hillside. The 
 old man climbed the hill and .sat beside the grave 
 and looked in, and then remarked to his amiable 
 friends, who had been summoned to his funeral 
 and were patiently waiting the signal to bury him, 
 that he didn’t feel any desire to be buried that 
 day, and descended the hill and went home. He 
 repeated this interesting manoeuvre three times. 
 
156 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 but it was once too often ; for the third time his 
 friends showed they were not to be trifled with 
 any longer, and would stand no more nonsense. 
 They bundled him in and buried him. After he 
 was buried, the old bulu was heard to sneeze. 
 
 In St. Paul’s Vicarage there was one creature 
 who objected strongly to the mission. This was 
 a little Skye-terrier, called “Muggins.” He 
 objected to the sound of church bells as strongly 
 as Mr. Irving in the character of Mephistopheles, 
 though in a different way. He always howled 
 when the bell rang. And, during the mission, the 
 bell rang so surprisingly often ; there appeared to 
 be such an endless and unaccountable succession 
 of Sundays, that poor Muggins was always agitated 
 and howled time after time. Before the fatal week 
 was over he became pitiably hoarse. He had an 
 attack of “ clerg>'man’s sore throat.” 
 
 Christmas Day came at length, a welcome 
 Christmas that brought a welcome holiday. In 
 many churches there were delightful carol-services. 
 On Christmas Eve, at St. Mary’s, a service with 
 prayers, lessons, and benedictions, arranged by the 
 Archbishop of Canterbury, was used. The Bishop 
 of Auckland took part in it. On Christmas Day 
 Canon Bodington, in answer to a petition from the 
 congregation, celebrated at All Saints’, and after- 
 wards preached a farewell sermon at St. Sepulchre’s, 
 and planted a memorial Norfolk pine in the 
 vicarage garden, and at night preached another 
 farewell sermon at Devonport. I celebrated and 
 preached twice at St. Mark’s. There were a hun- 
 dred communicants. The whole of the east end 
 was covered with a lattice-work of moss and 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 157 
 
 arums. At night I preached three little sermons 
 between the carols at All Saints’. Rain had fallen 
 the night before, and the ground was wet as we 
 walked to church on Christmas morning to sing 
 our “Adeste, fideles,” before the altar. The air 
 was languid and heavy and moist with a damp 
 and intense heat. At night, as I walked home, the 
 sky was serene, and the cooler air was lit by the 
 glowing splendour of a slowly sinking moon that 
 overhung the dark, wooded promontories, and shone 
 reflected in the full tide that flowed lapping quietly 
 among the mangroves on the shores of Hobson’s 
 Bay. It was a night to think of home, and of 
 peace, and of angels, and of Him who had not 
 where to lay His head, and yet in answer to His 
 petition had obtained the heathen for His inherit- 
 ance, and the utmost part of the earth for His 
 possession. 
 
TAURANGA. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 On IMonday, the Innocents’ Day, our Christmas 
 summer holiday began. With the Archdeacon of 
 Auckland and Dr. Purchas for our companions we 
 embarked at sunset on board the Clansman, and 
 steamed away past the black Nelson and the 
 white Southern Cross, the ships of peace and of 
 war, and out of the harbour and away northward 
 between the Great Barrier Island and Cape Colville, 
 and then, as night deepened, doubled south again 
 towards Tauranga, the nearest point of approach 
 to the famous Hot Lakes, with their fairy terraces 
 and spouting geysers. We were awakened long 
 before the dawn by the steamer stopping for the 
 mails in Mercury Bay. 
 
 The entrance to Tauranga Harbour is guarded 
 by a high cone of rock called Monganui, or “ Big 
 Shark.” The channel winds round inside it. We 
 landed at ten, and left half an hour afterwards in 
 
ROUND THE ROUND WORLD, 
 
 159 
 
 a coach and four. There is a long bridge across 
 the creek, and here we observed cormorants and a 
 heron. On the left of the creek and not far from 
 the road can be seen, on the summit of a low hill, 
 the “ Gate Pah,” in attacking which the English 
 were defeated with great loss in 1864. 
 
 The distance from Tauranga to Ohinemutu is 
 fifty-seven miles, a dusty and bumpy journey of 
 eleven hours. The first part of the way is very 
 flat, skirting the base of the hills, with large flax- 
 swamps here and there. We changed horses at 
 Tepuke, which means “the hill,” and soon began 
 to mount the hills, gradually rising till we reached 
 two thousand feet. The country was weird and 
 strange, ribbed with steep ridges one behind the 
 other, and deep gullies between. The bush was 
 on fire, and a large part was burnt. Soon we 
 came to Lake Rotoiti, which pours out its 
 waters in a delicious, rushing, green river, and 
 stopped for the mails at a house, where there 
 was a large and talkative group of Maoris. On 
 the opposite side of the lake, on the summit of a 
 hill, is a little white house ; it is the grave of a chief. 
 We skirted the sheet of water, and after mounting 
 a ridge, from which there is a fine view over 
 Rotoiti, descended into a long plain, and drove 
 mile after mile round the great lake of Rotorua. 
 Four or five miles off, we saw the white geysers of 
 Whaka-rewa-rewa gleaming through the dark. At 
 first we took them for houses. It was late when 
 the coach pulled up at the door of the Lake House, 
 Ohinemutu. 
 
 Ohinemutu is a regular Maori village, on the 
 edge of the lake, and it is the head-quarters of the 
 
i6o 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 Lake district. The whole country steams and 
 . the lake bubbles with hundreds of boiling springs. 
 The natives never light a fire or need a kitchen 
 range. They carry their potatoes, crayfish, shells, 
 or vegetables down to the springs in a “ kit ” — that 
 is, a flax basket — on the end of a stick, and pop them 
 into the pool till they are done. Besides these 
 natural kitchens, there are also baths, which are 
 square or oblong holes dug in the ground and 
 boarded to prevent the sides breaking and falling 
 in. The morning after our arrival I went down to 
 the lake before six, and found the village full of 
 people either cooking or bathing. It was like the 
 Inferno, illustrated by Gustave Dore, or, to vary 
 the simile, like the nursery rhyme about “ three 
 men in a tub ; ” no doubt the three trades were fully 
 represented. Nor are the bathers in the least dis- 
 concerted when you nearly tread upon them with- 
 out seeing them, but only show their white teeth as 
 they smile up at the intruder with their croaking 
 chorus of “Tena-koe,” which means literally, “Here 
 you are.” It is a veritable frog-land. There is 
 one square pond between the church and the 
 “ Whare-puni,” or Parliament House, and which 
 may be called the public square, or village green, 
 which is nearly always full of fat babies, looking, 
 as General Gordon expresses it, like black slugs. 
 Early as it was, one bell, if not two, was ringing 
 for service, and I followed a few natives into their 
 splendidly carved “ Runanga” or Parliament House. 
 The house is all richly carved and ornamented with- 
 in, the broad uprights representing monstrous men. 
 There were two tables, and on one of them was a 
 large, ugly bust of Queen Victoria. The house is 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 l6l 
 
 used by the Roman Catholics as a church. There 
 were twelve or fifteen persons inside, and an old 
 fellow was volubly reading in a rapid sing-song, the 
 others occasionally chiming in and crossing them- 
 selves. Perhaps the old fellow was saying the office 
 of Prime. An English native lay reader was also 
 reading prayers in the English church, which is far 
 the most unsightly building in the district. It is 
 impossible to guess why, when the natives have 
 such a talent for rich carving and ornament, they 
 should not have been encouraged to build a church 
 after their own manner, instead of the hideous 
 structures that would be disfiguring even for a 
 Board school. 
 
 Their houses are charming. Of course, they are 
 not big enough ; they are mere toy houses. But 
 that is done of set purpose, for the Maoris prefer to 
 spend the night in an oven. But they are ex- 
 tremely pretty. You can stand upright in them, 
 and they are as long as a small room. The black, 
 horizontal laths are tied by bows of flax to the 
 upright reeds, and with the carving and painting 
 these little houses look like delicate Japanese 
 workboxes. On the floor are exquisite flax mats 
 woven by the women. The huts are oblong and have 
 long high-pitched roofs, and the roofs and sides 
 are thatched with reeds. In front there is a door 
 and a window. The door-posts, and lintels, and 
 the uprights and sloping boards that frame the 
 front of the house are sometimes beautifully carved. 
 Over the centre, in front of the ridge-pole, is a 
 carved head, or sometimes a cross. Each house is 
 surrounded by a little palisade of bean-sticks taller 
 than the house, and inside the enclosure grow a 
 
1 62 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 few plants, chiefly tobacco ; and sometimes there 
 is a private tank of hot water. And the principal 
 occupation of these landed gentry is to sit in their 
 hot water, smoking a pipe, and to watch the tobacco 
 grow. Those who were not thus engaged were 
 lying in the shadow of the Runanga, a wonderfully 
 picturesque group with their dark skins and pro- 
 fuse, curly hair, and bright dresses. But for dress 
 
 men often prefer a blanket and nothing more, and 
 the children often wear only a shirt. 
 
 The end of the long, low promontory on which 
 the church and Runanga stand is used as a native 
 cemetery. The dead are sometimes buried under- 
 ground, very near the surface, but this is an innova- 
 tion. The bodies are usually left above ground, 
 under little huts, which appear like small dwelling- 
 houses. Through the wide chinks can be seen 
 the coffins, and a collection of old cloths and 
 
ox A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 163 
 
 blankets hanging up. After some years the bones 
 are taken up and scraped, and hidden in a cave. 
 I know a garden at the foot of Mount Eden 
 where, in a crack of the rocks, there is a large 
 collection of old bones. One of the graves belongs, 
 as the inscription shows, to a little girl of three 
 years old, called Ellen Hinemoa Wilson, or, in 
 Maori, Erina Hinemoa Wirihana, who was acci- 
 dentally scalded to death in a boiling spring nine 
 years before. Standing just out of the water are 
 some carved posts of an old pah, which was 
 destroyed by the rising of the lake. 
 
 In the afternoon we drove, in the same coach 
 as before, to Wairoa, which lies beyond the ridge 
 of eastern hills that bounds the plain of Rotorua. 
 At the foot of these hills we stopped to visit the 
 Whaka-rewa-rewa geysers, which we had seen 
 steaming white through the darkness of the 
 previous night. There is a little Maori village 
 picturesquely grouped on the hillside, and ap- 
 proached by a bridge over a clear green stream, 
 which gushes and rushes among the ferns in a 
 deep gully. Below the bridge is a little lake, 
 boiling and steaming. It was well worth while to 
 pay the toll exacted by the natives at the bridge 
 in order to see the strange beauties of water and 
 fire on the other side. There are awful, deep-blue, 
 boiling pools, perfectly clear and seemingly un- 
 fathomable. The ground is covered with a white 
 crust and with sulphur ; but ferns and evergreens 
 relieve the eye with pleasant, sombre colour, and 
 form a rich setting to the terraced mounds of the 
 geysers and the mysterious, smoking caldrons of 
 ultramarine water. The most formidable of the 
 
164 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 geysers had for some time past emitted nothing 
 but steam. It is a white cone, broadening down 
 to the stream, where it ends in a little cliff wrapped 
 in steam and spitting jets of boiling spray from 
 numerous spout-holes. The most active of the 
 geysers at that time only threw water ten or 
 twelve feet high. At other times it has burst up 
 to a far greater height. 
 
 The road winds over the dusty hills, covered 
 with the golden shoots of the young bracken, and 
 tufted with trailing bushes of tutu, whose long 
 tassels of small purple berries are sweet and harm- 
 less, but contain poisonous seeds ; over the hills 
 and then down through the Tiki-tapu bush, with 
 its splendid rata trees tufted and bushed with kia- 
 kia and splendid fronds of lomaria and polypodium, 
 and on the ground the lace-like intricacies of the 
 Pteris scaberula and the majestic tufts of “ Prince 
 of Wales’ feathers” {Todea superbd) as thick as 
 velvet, and hundreds of other ferns which one 
 learns to love and long for, until between the 
 trunks of the trees the little blue lake is seen, 
 bordered with smooth white sand and guarded all 
 round by steep, wooded hills. The Tiki-tapu lake 
 is so sequestered from the wind in its deep 
 sheltered basin, that it lies smooth as a mirror, 
 reflecting in the clear, cool depth of its blue waters 
 every light and shadow, every touch of bright 
 colour from the scarlet myrtles, or hazy grey or 
 solemn green from the mountain or the forest. 
 
 A short neck of hill divides the Blue Lake from 
 Rotokakahi, or the Green Lake. It is larger, and 
 the shore on one side is rather bare, though the 
 golden fern and the dark rock is always interesting, 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 165 
 
 and the evergreens here and there dip their 
 boughs into the water. The Wairoa stream rushes 
 noisily down a sloping valley through wildernesses 
 of the white, heath-like manuka myrtle, where 
 the cock pheasants crow morning and night, and 
 past the ivharh and gardens of the natives, and 
 there tumbles over a precipice of rock and moss 
 
 
 
 and fern a hundred feet, and winds full and dreamy 
 through a flat meadow into Lake Tarawera. 
 
 I shall never forget that first view of Tarawera. 
 The coach stopped in front of the verandah of the 
 wooden roadside inn, and we walked half a mile 
 beyond until the lake burst all at once upon our 
 sight. The hot December sun was sinking behind 
 
1 66 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 the hills at the head of the peaceful Wairoa valley, 
 and threw a golden blush on the steep mountain- 
 sides and barren downs yellow with summer fern, 
 on the crags and evergreens and sloping pro- 
 montories reflecting themselves in the still water 
 of the winding lake, and tinged the mountains on 
 the far shore and the bald, square summit of the 
 Tarawera mountain with a rose-coloured haze. 
 The pale-blue expanse of the lake was broken by 
 gentle headlands clothed with shrubs and bosky 
 trees and crimson myrtle blossoms. The narrow, 
 bent arm of the lake crept up almost to our feet, 
 but far beneath, between wooded rocks on one 
 side and beds of green rushes on the other ; one or 
 two canoes, laden with nets and baskets of cray- 
 fish, might be seen paddling silently to the shore ; 
 and the road dipped down from where we stood 
 in sudden zigzags through beds of bright bracken 
 and varied shrubberies of unrivalled beauty to the 
 clear stream moving through the meadow below. 
 
 A little bell summoned the Maoris to their 
 evening prayer — a selection from the Prayer-book 
 and lessons for the day read by a native reader. 
 In the little room was a harmonium ; and, when 
 my friends came in, they were singing in their own 
 soft language, as musical as the note of the bell- 
 bird that haunts the thickets, their own version of 
 the hymn — 
 
 “A few more suns shall set 
 O’er these dark hills of time, 
 
 And we shall be where suns are not, 
 
 A far serener clime : 
 
 Then, O my Lord, prepare 
 IMy soul for that great day ; 
 
 O wash me in Thy precious blood, 
 
 And take my sins away.” 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 167 
 
 Poor simple children of the sunshine, they little 
 thought that before midsummer had given place to 
 midwinter, in one fearful, fiery night many of them, 
 mothers and children, old, feeble men and bright, 
 merry boys, would be buried in the unnatural grave 
 of boiling mud rained upon them by the explosion 
 of their treacherous mountain ! 
 
 A little Maori boy guided me to the service. It 
 was odd to hear him say, in answer to my question, 
 that he had passed the first standard ; just as if he 
 had been a Derbyshire boy. And it is curious, too, 
 to reflect that seventy years ago this country, 
 savage and cannibal, was so much dreaded by 
 Europeans that not a captain could be found to 
 carry thither Samuel Marsden, the devoted pioneer 
 priest. 
 
 At this evensong there were twenty or thirty 
 natives of all ages, chiefly men. Some of them 
 sat on the floor, and not a few of them carried 
 babies. I noticed an old man with white hair, who 
 came in while the service was going on and knelt 
 reverently on the ground for a few moments. He 
 was acting the part of nurse and carried a baby on 
 his back, wrapped up in a counterpane, which also 
 served as his only article of dress. At the request 
 of the congregation, who seldom are visited by a 
 priest. Dr. Purchas gave them an instruction in 
 their own language on the first chapter of St. 
 John’s Gospel. Every morning and every evening 
 all through the country the Maori reader rings his 
 bell, and, in the words of our rubric, “ the people 
 come to hear the Word of God and to pray with 
 him.” These reclaimed savages, or children of 
 savages, would shrug their shoulders with surprise. 
 
i68 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 or, more likely, make one of their clever, witty 
 sarcasms, if they came to some highly Christian 
 civilized villages or towns in England and heard 
 no bell except on Sunday, and found the church 
 open on sixty days in the year and locked on 
 three hundred. We might well, even in respect 
 of the despised Maoris, remind ourselves of the 
 closing lines of Keble’s poem on the snowdrop — 
 
 “Of our scholars let us learn 
 Our own forgotten lore.” 
 
 It is very easy to condemn the natives, and to 
 say that they are idle and superstitious and fond 
 of drink. No doubt their bane is, as Bishop 
 Selwyn said, “ desultory work interrupted by total 
 idleness.” Their faults are on the surface ; they 
 are evident. The land belongs to them, and the 
 Government and the colonists pay them rent. 
 They do not work because they can afford to live 
 at ease. But they are not the only people in the 
 world who profit by the “ unearned increment,” and 
 live upon their rents, and substitute recreation for 
 labour and pastime for manual toil. If they prefer 
 to live on potatoes, and dress in a blanket, and lie 
 in a hot spring, no doubt it is not an ideal existence 
 for a man, and leaves his “ capability and Godlike 
 reason to fust” in him “unused”; but, on the 
 other hand, that grinding, excessive toil by which 
 every hour must “ sweat her sixty minutes to the 
 death,” in order, not that men may earn their bread 
 or benefit the world, but that they may scrape 
 together and hoard up a selfish fortune, is not an 
 ideal existence either. And, besides, the Maoris 
 are not the only people who lounge through life 
 like lotus-eaters. Their idea of life is followed in 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 169 
 
 Paris, in London, in Brussels, in New York. You 
 have only to substitute for the potatoes truffles and 
 turtle, for the blanket a suit of clothes made in 
 Savile Row, and for the hot spring an armchair 
 in a club in Pall Mall, and you find the same 
 character repeated under the irreproachable fashion 
 of the inheritors of a Christian civilization of a 
 thousand years. But it is not necessary to go to 
 Europe to find it ; it is to be found naturalized, 
 like the thistle and the dandelion, in colonial soil. 
 Selwyn describes it in its least enviable and most 
 palpably vulgar species, “a shabby, mean, and 
 worthless race of upstart gentlemen, who are 
 ashamed to dig but not to beg.” And the Maoris 
 themselves are quick-eyed to perceive it. Their 
 first idea of a Christian gentleman was derived 
 from Bishop Selwyn, who loved them, and culti- 
 vated with them a “ growing friendship,” and found 
 their “disinterested kindness” “most striking.” 
 They were puzzled by hearing very different 
 persons described as gentlemen. They considered 
 the problem in silent astonishment. At last they 
 hit upon a satisfactory solution. They said, “Ah ! 
 we see ; there are two kinds of gentlemen. There 
 is the gentleman gentleman and the pig gentleman. 
 The gentleman gentleman can do anything ; the pig 
 gentleman can do nothing.” 
 
 But it is not fair to judge the natives by the 
 same standard as European nations. They have 
 only been within the reach of civilization for half 
 a century, and the lessons they have learned from 
 us and the examples we have set them have not 
 always been unmixedly good. Not only have we 
 taught them new vices, but there can be little 
 
1/0 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 doubt that they have suffered by the action and 
 example both of civilians and soldiers. Land has 
 sometimes been taken from them or purchased 
 from them unjustly, or compensation has been 
 delayed or inadequately made. Because the 
 natives were Christian and strictly observed 
 Sunday as a day of rest, it was chosen by the 
 troops as the customary day for attacking and 
 harassing them ; and the Bibles and Prayer-books 
 in the Maori language, which the natives had been 
 taught to regard as holy, were torn up to serve as 
 cartridge papers. 
 
 It is surprising that, with all they have under- 
 gone, there should still be some thirty thousand 
 Christians. And then, these have a wonderful 
 power of recovery. There has been lately an 
 extraordinary movement in favour of temperance. 
 Thousands of them have taken the pledge. The 
 English clergy, who are in charge of the natives, 
 give hopeful account of the prospects of recon- 
 verting the Hau-Haus, who abandoned the Church 
 at the time of the war. The name is taken 
 from the cry which they adopted — a kind of imi- 
 tation of a dog’s bark. Their religion is a mixture 
 of the Bible — chiefly the Old Testament — and their 
 native superstitions. Hau-Hauism was simply 
 another aspect of their rebellion against the 
 English. Rightly or wrongly, they were burning 
 under a sense of injury, and when they threw 
 off the yoke of England, they threw off along with 
 it their obedience to the Church of England. 
 
 But with all their faults, they are, as Samuel 
 Marsden said, “ a noble race, vastly superior in 
 understanding to anything you can imagine of a 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 171 
 
 savage nation.” Their generous and chivalrous 
 nobility, their fine sense of honour, their splendid 
 bravery, their Christian sensibility, they showed 
 over and over again in their wars with us. They 
 allowed waggons of ammunition and provision to 
 pass untouched on Sunday. These men, who once 
 were cannibals, neither robbed nor mutilated the 
 dead, but granted permission for their burial, and 
 they tended the wounded. In the defence of the 
 Gate Pah, to which I have referred, a little band 
 of three hundred Maoris repulsed wdth fearful loss 
 more than sixteen hundred English troops, who 
 advanced upon them with the best rifles and four 
 batteries of artillery. And it was in the night 
 after this fearful battle, in which the 43rd Regi- 
 ment lost, so they say, more officers than any 
 regiment did at Waterloo, that Henare Taratoa, 
 who had written on the orders for the day the 
 text, “If thine enemy hunger, feed him ; if he 
 thirst, give him drink,” in heroic obedience to 
 his orders, crept through the English lines at the 
 imminent risk of his own life, to fetch a cup of 
 water for a wounded enemy who lay dying within 
 the pah. And no race of men can be more 
 courteous and bright and hospitable. 
 
 There is one thing more to be remembered, and 
 it is this — that visitors to New Zealand generally 
 come across the worst specimens of the Maoris 
 and judge them by the few they see. But the 
 influx of tourists who squander their money never 
 raises the moral tone of the districts they visit. 
 And there is a class of tourists who make it their 
 pleasure to debase the natives. They encourage 
 them in immoral dances, they teach them oaths 
 
172 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 I 
 
 and foul words, of which the natives do not under- 
 stand the meaning, and they are ready to ply 
 them with intoxicating drink. These abominable 
 creatures have reached even the lovely glens of 
 Wairoa. But who are the more to blame — the 
 poor Maoris, or the strangers who corrupt them ? 
 When their great catastrophe befell them, they 
 confessed in their sorrow and bereavement that 
 it was a just punishment for their sins ; but the 
 punishment, after all, did not fall upon the most 
 guilty. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 173 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 On the last day of the old year we went — a party 
 of fifteen — from Wairoa by Lake Tarawera to the 
 famous Terraces at Lake Rotomahana. The half- 
 mile walk in the early morning was not the least 
 charming part of the excursion. It was most 
 lovely. A steep path leads down through beauti- 
 ful rewa-rewa and other trees to the flat green 
 meadow, and the narrow arm of the lake — a creek 
 between wooded banks — and the boat-house. The 
 little stream meanders through the level lawn till 
 it reaches the lake. At this point there is a boat- 
 house, built of tree-ferns and thatched with reeds. 
 There were two large whale-boats inside it, and 
 other boats and canoes lying about, some on the 
 grass and some in the stream. What a picture 
 the scene would have made ! The two crews of 
 Maoris had already taken down the luncheon 
 baskets and stowed them in the boats ; the bright 
 sun streamed down on the full tide that flashed 
 among the reeds and washed over the smooth 
 turf. The dark-skinned boys with big, black, 
 liquid eyes, dressed some in white calico, one or 
 two with a bright coloured shirt, danced in and out 
 of the water, merrily shoving, shouting, and chat- 
 
174 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 taring ; and behind the boat-house, with its rich 
 brown pillars and its crevices filled with flickering 
 light, the tall wooded cliff in cool grey shadow 
 rose nearly straight out of the water, crowned with 
 the sloping downs of the mountain. The pohutu- 
 kawas — like rhododendrons — fringed the shore, 
 leaning their great branches and stems over the 
 water, all ablaze with crimson blossom, and draped 
 with long, weeping tresses of Aspleninm Jlac- 
 cidum. The two boats raced. The boys had no 
 real idea of rowing ; but they pulled their long 
 oars in good time, and worked really hard. Very 
 jolly they were and full of fun. They knew a little 
 English, and gave each other nicknames for the 
 occasion. One was “ ’Possum,” another was “ Blue 
 Squirrel,” and a third, “Tinned Meat.” We saw 
 ducks and cormorants and terns flying across the 
 lake or hovering over it. After rowing for four 
 miles we turned suddenly round a promontory on 
 the right. There was a little bay with two or 
 three huts, and canoes drawn up on the beach. 
 Here we got a large basket of crayfish, and then 
 rowed on to the end of the lake. Here there is 
 a small native settlement called Te Ariki. A 
 stream flows in from the Rotomahana lake, and 
 the wooded cliff breaks down sharply to the green- 
 sward and the shore, ending in a garden of pohutu- 
 kawas. We walked for a mile through the manuka, 
 which is of two kinds — the common one with white 
 single flowers, the other with small clustering 
 blossoms, like the Mediterranean heath or French 
 may. The White Terrace and the Pink Terrace are 
 on opposite sides of the lake. We first reached the 
 White Terrace. It slopes broadening down into 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 175 
 
 the lake, and ripples out into curved and shining 
 flats among the rushes on the marshy shore. It is 
 about a quarter of a mile long, one hundred and fifty 
 feet high, and in the broadest part about a hundred 
 yards wide. The lower part has large, fan-shaped 
 baths full of water of the loveliest milky blue. 
 Higher up the terrace assumes all sorts of fantastic 
 shapes. Sometimes it looks likeicicles. The general 
 effect is that of a glacier. Nearthe top it isnot unlike 
 the ribs left in the sand by the tide, only that the 
 ribs are deeper, and form a network of cups. In 
 these are ferns, mosses, and twigs crusted over 
 with white. The top of all is like a crater, with 
 one side broken down. The cliffs of red earth rise 
 above it to a considerable height ; below, is a 
 magnificent pool or basin of dazzlingly blue 
 water boiling furiously, and sometimes gathering 
 force till it foams and bursts aloft in a grand white 
 fountain flashing in the sun, and the great volumes 
 of steam ascend like a cloud. The steam and 
 spray floating in the air encrust the branches of 
 the manuka with a white coating of silica. I 
 found several ferns, and one a very rare one, the 
 Glychenia dichotoina, a delicate little green 
 umbrella. 
 
 We descended the other side of the terrace, and 
 then walked along the slope of the hill. The path 
 leads beside several other boiling pools and geysers. 
 Two of them, named Ngahutu and Ngahapu, throw 
 up water to a great height. The whole hillside 
 smokes with steam, and shakes with the roar and 
 thump of these mighty engines. We lunched 
 under the shadow of the tall manuka bushes, where 
 the Maoris had already brought the baskets and 
 
176 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND AYORLD 
 
 spread the feast. They waited on us very cleverly, 
 and first they served up our crayfish, which they 
 had boiled in the natural kitchen. Some little fan- 
 tails twittered and darted about us without any fear. 
 
 Higher up the hill is a plateau full of mud 
 holes, which are like chimney-pots a foot or two 
 high. In these the mud, which resembles white 
 paint, is thrown out, a few pats flying up and 
 falling back again. One of these chimneys is called 
 the “ porridge pot.” The Maoris eat the mud ; we 
 tasted it, and found it rather salt and unctuous, but 
 not disagreeable! On the rocky hillside above the 
 valley of mud is a terrible roaring steam vent, that 
 snorts and bellows so that you cannot hear your- 
 self speak ; further on is what looks like one of 
 these chimneys on its side, forming a small cave. 
 It has been artificially enclosed with slabs of 
 stone. It was the official residence of a chief, and 
 it passed as a heritage to his eldest son, and the 
 family had enjoyed this privileged palace, a few 
 feet wide, for generations. There is another fine 
 boiling caldron with a small terrace descending 
 from it into the lake. This, they told us, was the 
 scene of a terrible accident. A girl was boiling 
 potatoes in it, and the baby on her back slipped 
 over her head into the water, and the girt jumped 
 in to save it. When the parents, who were below, 
 came up, they could recover nothing but the 
 heads ; the bodies were boiled to nothing. 
 
 At the foot of the hill we embarked in two 
 canoes, which were waiting for us. They are always 
 hollowed out from totara trees, and are very frail 
 and narrow. A nervous person might upset the 
 canoe in a moment. A woman paddled in front 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 177 
 
 and a man behind. The lake is full of islands and 
 of rushes, and haunted by ducks and pukekos, 
 which are handsome, large water-hens with red bills 
 and legs and bluish-black plumage. 
 
 The Pink Terrace is not quite so large as the 
 White, nor does it expand so broadly. 
 
 We landed at the foot of the Terrace, and bathed 
 in the upper pools, venturing gradually into the 
 hotter ones. It was delicious. The baths are like 
 pink shells, smooth and soft, and deep enough to 
 swim in, and the colour and substance of the 
 Terrace is like pink coral. The top is like the top 
 of the White Terrace ; only the water and the steam 
 are a still more indescribably lovely blue, turquoise 
 and sapphire. The edge of this profound pool — 
 which, although throwing off clouds of steam, was, 
 in contrast to the other, absolutely still and clear — 
 is a kind of white shelf of coral, fading into pale 
 sulphur, and then into pink. You can safely walk 
 all round the crater. When we again embarked, 
 we paddled all the way down the stream to Lake 
 Tarawera. This was almost the best part of the day. 
 The stream is warm, and in some places quite hot. 
 It is shaded by tall rushes and ferns, overgrown 
 with large pink convolvulus. When we reached 
 Te Ariki all the youth of the place was sporting in 
 the stream. The wind had risen, and the water was 
 rough as we rowed the eight miles back. Our guide 
 was the celebrated Sophia, who speaks English 
 perfectly. The Maoris were polite and charming, 
 though they have wisely learned to prevent any 
 traveller from breaking specimens off the Terraces. 
 The arrangements for the day were perfect. If it 
 had been a picnic arranged by some nobleman in 
 
 N 
 
178 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 an English park, nothing could have been more 
 comfortable, quiet, and well-appointed. There 
 was no delay, no hurry, no confusion. Unobtrusive 
 attendants were always ready with spoons or 
 paddles, napkins or towels, dishes or canoes. No 
 attempt was made at extortion. Not a word was 
 breathed about money from morning till night. 
 All was paid at the hotel. 
 
 My friends went back to Ohinemutu that night 
 by coach ; I preferred to spend New Year’s Day 
 at Wairoa, and to walk. The day was hot. I 
 went to the old mission station on the hill. It is 
 a lovely, forlorn spot. A picturesque, wooden 
 church stands on a plateau of ferns overlooking 
 the lake ; the doors stand wide open, and the 
 thick ivy creeps in through the roof. The mission 
 house stands alone, approached by a splendid 
 avenue of lofty dracaenas and cherries loaded with 
 delicious fruit. The whole place looks sad and 
 forsaken ; but there are excellent orchards allowed 
 to run half wild, and the paths lead into lovely 
 woods. The owner invited me into the house, and 
 begged me to help myself to cherries on my way 
 down, and among the fern there were beds of the 
 finest and most prolific wild strawberries I ever saw. 
 
 Down by the lake the fern was almost impassable ; 
 it grew so thick, so deep, and so tangled, and the 
 ground was so rough. And the fern seeds contain 
 a gum. Their little bags burst when you try to 
 brush them off, and the cloth is all stained. 
 Progress by wading was more impracticable still, 
 for the water was too deep. After a terrible 
 scramble, at last I reached the bay beyond the first 
 promontory — a lovely, white, curving beach, the 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION, 
 
 179 
 
 water as clear as crystal, sloping down to unknown 
 green depths. The stones on the beach were so 
 hot I could not bear my feet on them. In the 
 afternoon a thunderstorm came on ; the lake was 
 all purple and still. I hailed two Maoris who had 
 been out cray-fishing, and they conveyed me back 
 to the head of the lake. They had caught two 
 large basketfuls of fish. They have a semicircular 
 frame made of sticks and weighted with stones, 
 and to this the flat net is attached, I gave them 
 a shilling, and two sandwiches, which they ate 
 with joy and gratitude, exclaiming, “Too much, 
 pakeha, too much.” This does not look like the 
 extortionate character usually ascribed to them. 
 ‘‘ Pakeha ” means “ foreigner.” 
 
i8o 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 But the glorious beauty of this lovely region is 
 a thing of the past. Now the whole country for 
 miles around is buried deep down beneath white 
 volcanic dust and mud. The bush is destroyed. 
 Every leaf is stripped from the trees, the branches 
 are wrecked, great trunks are broken down or 
 rooted up, the native ivharh are crushed and 
 buried, and the hotel where we stayed beaten 
 down into hopeless ruin. The Terraces are no 
 more. The lovely Rotomahana lake, once green 
 with ferns and rushes and alive with waterfowl, 
 has become the crater of a furious and tremendous 
 geyser. The Tarawera mountain, that rose so 
 grandly silent, serene above the lake, with its 
 triple peak, has become a volcano, and the country 
 is like an arctic scene, a monotonous and dreary 
 expanse of whitish grey, broken only by barren 
 rocks and blasted trunks and drifting columns of 
 steam and smoke. Just after midnight, on the loth 
 of June, the inhabitants of Ohinemutu were 
 awakened by a violent and protracted quivering 
 and trembling of the earth. The windows rattled, 
 and the houses creaked and strained like ships in 
 a storm. Then came a fearful roar. The people 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 I8l 
 
 sprang from their beds and rushed out of doors. 
 It was a clear, starlight and frosty night ; but 
 behind the hills in the direction of Tarawera there 
 arose a dense, black, umbrella-shaped cloud, that 
 seemed to menace even Ohinemutu with its over- 
 hanging, deathly pall. Peals of thunder crashed 
 almost without intermission, and the geysers began 
 to roar. The scene was magnificent, but terrible 
 beyond description. The huge volume of ascend- 
 ing smoke was lit up by the red glare of incessant 
 sheets of flame. Forked lightnings quivered round 
 it, and large, bright meteors appeared to chase each 
 other across the sky. The roaring of the explosions 
 was continually interrupted and overpowered by 
 terrific peals of thunder. The street was filled 
 with terrified fugitives. Many were in their night- 
 dress. Mothers were carrying their children. 
 Some were crying out that the Day of Judgment 
 had come. All were endeavouring to escape, some 
 to the nearest mountain, others along the roads to 
 Oxford or Tauranga. Many took refuge in the 
 school, and there they knelt and prayed for mercy. 
 Showers of ashes began to fall, but a violent wind 
 from the west beat back the cloud. 
 
 The flashes of fire were seen and the noises 
 heard more than a hundred miles away. At 
 Auckland, at New Plymouth, at Blenheim, sounds 
 were heard like the booming guns of a vessel in 
 distress, and men were sent out to see and help. 
 Tauranga and Gisborne were wrapped in darkness, 
 and shops, houses, and streets were lit with lamps. 
 
 But if the scene was fearful on the shores of 
 Rotorua, it was still more fearful at Wairoa. 
 What happened there can best be told by three of 
 
1 82 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 the survivors in their own words ; one is the 
 keeper of the hotel, the others are the school- 
 master’s wife and daughter. 
 
 “About 12.30 the ground began to shake, and 
 shook continuously for an hour before the eruption 
 broke out. When this was first seen, it was like 
 a small cloud on the mountain, with flashes of 
 lightning of great brilliancy. All were got out of 
 bed and went up to the old mission station to 
 ascertain the cause of the occurrence, and we saw 
 a sight that no man who saw it can ever forget. 
 Apparently the mount had three craters, and the 
 flames were shooting fully a thousand feet high, 
 while there seemed to be a continuous shower of 
 balls of fire for miles around. As a storm appeared 
 to be coming on, we returned to the hotel, and 
 shortly afterward what seemed to be heavy hail- 
 stones came pouring on the roof, which continued 
 for about a quarter of an hour. This was succeeded 
 by a fall of heavy stones, fire-balls, and mud, the 
 lava falling after the manner of rain. The weight 
 of these substances upon the roof soon began to 
 tell upon it. The roof of the hotel gave way about 
 half-past four a.m. with a loud crash, and the whole 
 of the upper story collapsed. The dcbt'is falling 
 into the rooms below, we left the smoking-room 
 and went into the drawing-room, which, as it was 
 the newest part of the house, we thought would 
 stand the longest, but it was with the greatest 
 difficulty that we got there, going through falling 
 stones and mud which impeded us. When we 
 w'cnt outside, everybody, without exception, was 
 cool and self-possessed. The back part of the 
 house, in which was the dining-room, gave way 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 183 
 
 next, and all of a sudden we heard a fearful crash 
 and roar as if thousands of tons of stuff were 
 falling, and we heard the balcony come down. 
 
 “ The danger of our position was now fearfully 
 apparent. Mr. Bainbridge suggested that we 
 should engage in religious service. He remarked 
 with awful calmness that he expected to be before 
 his Maker in an hour or so. We acquiesced, and 
 Mr. Bainbridge read a portion of Scripture and said 
 a prayer, in >vhich all fervently joined. At the 
 same time we agreed that we should make an 
 eftbrt to save ourselves, and with this object 
 determined to leave the hotel and make for the 
 first Maori whar^ we saw standing. At the time 
 there was a terrific gale blowing, and hot stones 
 and mud still descended incessantly. I said : 
 ‘ Boys, we shall have to go ; put what you can 
 over your heads.’ We all placed rags and planks 
 over us to protect us from the danger. We agreed 
 to stick together. It was so dark we could not see 
 a hand before us ; we directed our way by instinct. 
 Humphries and his wife went first ; Bainbridge, 
 the English tourist, next ; I took the two girls, 
 jumped over the broken balustrade which lay in 
 our way, and lifted the girls over. I called out, 
 ‘ Are you all right, boys ? ’ and all seemed to 
 call out, ‘Yes.’ So we went on, shouting to each 
 other, only having to go seven hundred yards to 
 reach Sophie’s house. We continued shouting to 
 prevent our losing one another. Suddenly I 
 missed the young tourist, and putting the shawl 
 again around my head went at once back after 
 him. The shower of debris was so great that I 
 was knocked down, but getting right again, called 
 
184 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 as loud as possible. Though unable to find him, 
 I was rewarded b}”- coming in contact with George 
 Baker, my cook, who was standing against a tree, 
 and I got him to the 'cvharb and went back to 
 the hotel to find the others. After some further 
 searching, I Was assisted by a brilliant fire-ball 
 coming from the crater. Lighting on a wJiare it 
 burst into flames, and I could see better. I found 
 that Stubbs and Minnett, having groped about for 
 some time, had returned to the drawing-i'oom. I 
 directed them to the wliare, and then went towards 
 the Wharepuni, and my delight was great wLen I 
 heard the voice of Humphries answering my shout. 
 He and his wife were making for the carved house, 
 and they reached there and remained all night. 
 I went back to the whare looking for Bainbridge, 
 but could get no answer, and have not seen 
 him since. My belief is that he was stunned by 
 falling stones, and buried under the mud which 
 now lies five feet deep all over the settlement, 
 covering everything up. 
 
 “At half-past six I got a candle in a bottle and 
 went up to the residence of the Hazard family. 
 It was still pouring mud and stones, and I was 
 knocked down three or four times. I had pre- 
 viously been struck down many times when 
 looking after the others. We commenced to dig 
 for the bodies of the Hazards, and to our great 
 astonishment discovered Mrs. Hazard alive. Quite 
 a thrill was caused by seeing her fingers moving, 
 showing she was alive. We called out that we 
 would soon have her out, and on digging away 
 the accumulation we found her with a shawl 
 wrapped round her head. She was sitting on 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 185 
 
 a chair, with her back to a chiffonier, her right arm 
 round the neck of Mona, her dead little daughter. 
 Her dead little son was across her lap. She said, 
 ‘Yes, I know they are both dead ; you can take 
 my children away.’ ” 
 
 In her own sad account she says : “ My two 
 daughters, Flora and Ina, escaped into a detached 
 portion of the house. While sitting in my chair 
 with my three remaining children around me, I 
 was pinned to the floor by the leg through the 
 roof falling in, and I believe that it was at that 
 time my husband was killed. My youngest child, 
 Mona, a girl four years of age, was in my arms. 
 A boy aged ten, Adolphus, was on my right, and 
 a younger child, a girl aged six, was on my left. 
 The child in my arms cried to give her more room, 
 as I was pressing her against the beam, but the 
 load of volcanic mud pouring down on me pre- 
 vented me from being able to render any assist- 
 ance, and the child was crushed and smothered 
 in my arms and died. Adolphus said to me, 
 
 ‘ Mamma, I will die with you,’ and I think he died 
 shortly after, as he did not answer again. The 
 little girl died shortly after, as she said ‘ Oh, my 
 head,’ as the mud was beating down on her, and 
 she spoke no more. During my entombment, I 
 thought a search-party would come to search the 
 room, and the first people I heard about the place 
 I ‘cooeed.’” 
 
 One of the daughters who escaped tells the fol- 
 lowing story : — “ Father asked me if I felt the earth 
 quiver. I replied ‘Yes.’ He said it was the 
 most wonderful sight he had ever seen, and we 
 went on the verandah to see. There was an ink- 
 
1 86 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 black cloud hovering over the truncated cone of 
 Tarawera, with lightning and balls of fire shooting 
 out of it. We all dressed and went into the sitting- 
 room, thinking it was the safest part of the building, 
 as being constructed of iron. We lit a fire in the 
 stove. We all went in there and sat down in the 
 middle of the room, mother, with all the children 
 round her, looking out of the window. It was like 
 a great sheet of fire. I sat down at the organ and 
 played and sang hymns. At three o’clock we 
 heard a rattling as of stones pattering on top of 
 the house. The noise was so great we could not 
 hear each other speak. We afterwards found it to 
 be lava. The volcanic shower had continued to 
 pour on the house for about an hour. Tremendous 
 wind then arose and came down with such force 
 that we were nearly suffocated with smoke, and 
 had to cover the stove with a mat and pour all 
 the water we could get, which not being sufficient 
 to put out the fire, my father took the pipe off the 
 stove. At about four o’clock we were all, except- 
 ing Messrs. Blyth and Lunding, assembled in the 
 middle of the room, believing it to be the safest 
 place, as the walls were bulging inwards, and 
 threatened to come in. I walked over to the door, 
 seeing it bulging, to lean against it. Messrs. Blyth 
 and Lunding were standing at the same place, when 
 suddenly there came a tremendous crash, and 
 all was dark, the roof falling in on top of us. 
 Quantities of lava fell on our heads. Mr. Lunding 
 jumped up and smashed the window, cutting his 
 hand very much. Finding he could not do so 
 well with his hands, he used his foot and got out. 
 He said, ‘ I’m out ; come out, Miss Hazard,’ and he 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 1 87 
 
 pulled me out. Mr. Blyth followed. On getting 
 into the open air we were struck about the head 
 and body by lumps of lava. We ran into another 
 portion of the house, in which was a light, and 
 shut the door, but finding the roof bulging down, 
 and being unable to get into some of the other 
 rooms, we opened the door and stood in the door- 
 way so as to be ready to escape. I was perishing 
 with cold, and Mr. Blyth got some blankets to 
 protect me from the cold. Just then the house 
 appeared to be struck with lightning and burning 
 lava, and took fire. We all rushed out into the 
 garden, when the portion of the building in which 
 we were took fire and burst into flames. We 
 endeavoured to get to some other shelter, and got 
 into a paddock, stumbling over some uprooted 
 trees in the darkness. Seeing by the light of the 
 burning apartment that the hen-house was stand- 
 ing, we went there for shelter, and remained until 
 daylight watching the principal building burning.” 
 Another story illustrates the devotion of the 
 Maoris to their poor children. The narrator says 
 that Mohi and his family “were in the chief’s house 
 when the eruption first commenced, but Mary was 
 afraid to stay there because of the noise of the 
 falling boards of the house, and they went down 
 to their own whare, taking two little boys with 
 them. Mohi said, ‘Well, let us pray to God;’ 
 and they prayed. The roof now was smashed in 
 by lava and stones. To save the life of the elder 
 boy, he wrapped him in a shawl, and knelt over 
 the little one so that the body should not receive 
 any hurt from the falling lava and stones ; but 
 these drifted so quickly round his body that the 
 
1 88 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 little one was soon covered, and he had to keep 
 throwing it aside with one arm to keep it away. 
 The Maori had his hand on the ground, and was 
 also on his knees, so as to provide effectual shelter 
 for the little one, his back thus forming a resting- 
 place for an increasing fall of lava. All this time 
 his wife was trying to protect the other little boy, 
 but her efforts were in vain. The silent struggle 
 with the elements and the lava overpowered 
 mother and child, killing both. Mohi, finding it 
 getting dark, and the lava very heavy on his back, 
 made a desperate effort and flung it off, and taking 
 up his little one called to his wife to be quick and 
 follow, when to his horror he found both his dear 
 ones had died silently by his side. They were 
 afterwards dug out ; she was in a sitting posture, 
 with her arms extended over the babe to protect 
 it from the sand-drift.” 
 
 Another Maori woman saved the life of an 
 European girl by brushing the mud and dust away 
 from her face so as to give her room to breathe. 
 More than a hundred natives perished. The 
 settlement of Te Ariki, at the foot of the fatal 
 mountain, was utterly destroyed, and every living 
 thing perished and was buried under twenty feet 
 of ash and mud. At Wairoa, an aged Maori, more 
 than a hundred years old, reputed to be a sorcerer, 
 was dug out alive after being buried for more than 
 four days. He was found mumbling his prayers, 
 and said he had prayed all the time. When he 
 was asked whether he had prayed to the “ Atua ” 
 of the Maoris, he said, “No; to the Atua of the 
 pakeha.” They gave him some biscuit and brandy, 
 and afterwards offered him warm milk, but he re- 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 189 
 
 fused it. When they inquired what he would have, 
 he replied that he never took anything but potatoes 
 and water. 
 
 The sufferings of the poor cattle were terrible. 
 Many were killed by the eruption, and many died 
 of starvation. There was neither food nor water 
 for them ; for all the fields were buried, and all the 
 creeks filled up, and the lakes full of sulphurous 
 mud. Cows and sheep were crowding about be- 
 wildered. Wild pigs, with the hair torn off their 
 backs by the pelting mud, were rooting about after 
 food. Horses, endeavouring to find water, fell over 
 precipices, and some got on ledges of the cliff 
 where they could neither get up nor down. And 
 birds were lying dead. 
 
 The news of the disaster reached us during our 
 last mission in the South Island, when we were 
 four hundred miles away, a few days only before 
 we bade farewell to New Zealand ; and we thought 
 of that second Lesson for the day, which we had 
 heard the Maori read from his Bible the night we 
 slept at Wairoa. How strangely prophetic and 
 appropriate it was, as well as the hymn : “ I saw 
 a great white throne, and Him that sat on it, from 
 whose face the earth and the heaven fled away ; 
 and there was found no place for them. And I 
 saw the dead, small and great, stand before God ; 
 and the books were opened : and another book 
 was opened, which is the book of life ; and the 
 dead were judged out of those things which were 
 written in the books, according to their works. 
 . . . And death and hell delivered up the dead 
 that were in them.” 
 
 A mysterious warning of the Coming catastrophe 
 
190 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 was reported from Tarawera. A short time before 
 the eruption a party of six Europeans and nine 
 Maoris started from Wairoa for the Terraces in 
 a canoe. When they had got half-way another 
 canoe was seen steering parallel to them, and 
 making for the Tarawera mountain, which has 
 always been kept as a burial-place for the bones 
 of the dead. The natives whistled and shouted, 
 but no answer was returned, only three of the 
 mysterious crew rose and stood upright. The 
 Maoris were very much frightened. They were 
 convinced it was a phantom canoe. It was of an 
 ancient build, with lofty stem and stern, and they 
 knew well that there was no such canoe upon the 
 lake. They believed it was an apparition to warn 
 them of death, and they said to the tourists when 
 they landed, “ We all die to-day.” Most people 
 dismissed the story, no doubt, with a laugh, but 
 I have heard those who know the natives well 
 express a belief that among the Maoris “ there are 
 more things ” “ than are dreamt of in philosophy.” 
 
 The following two stories were believed to be 
 well authenticated by the clergyman who told 
 me them : — 
 
 A native Wesleyan minister was driving one 
 day to Wairarapa, near Wellington. With him 
 were two or three companions and a dog. Their 
 road lay through the bush, which had been par- 
 tially cleared, and there were stumps standing by 
 the roadside. Sitting on one of these stumps they 
 saw a native friend of theirs, and a regular at- 
 tendant at the services, named Philip. The dog, 
 who was running before them, when he came near 
 the figure, stopped and crouched back as if in fear. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. ICjl 
 
 When they drove up, Philip rose and disappeared 
 into the bush. They shouted, but there was no 
 reply, only the tree-tops for some little way 
 whirled, as if a gust of wind were passing through 
 
 them. When they neared the town they heard 
 the sound of a tangi, or funeral wailing. It was 
 the natives singing a dirge for Philip, who had just 
 died. 
 
 The other story is as follows : — Mr. Z went 
 
 with a labouring man to a place near Invercargill, 
 and took with him a pack of hounds. His object 
 was to kill wild pigs and salt them. They settled 
 some miles from the shore, on the edge of the 
 bush in a lonely spot, and there they built a 
 wooden hut. An old, disused Maori path ran by 
 their hut into the wood. Every morning at nine 
 o’clock the dogs barked furiously, advancing to- 
 wards the wood as if pursuing something, and 
 
 then, after a while, retreating, still barking. When 
 a month had passed in this manner, the labouring 
 man came in one morning with a dead boar on his 
 shoulders, and threw it down, saying, “ There, I’m 
 off. I shan’t stay another hour.” “ What’s the 
 
 matter.?” said Mr. Z . “Well,” he said, “I’ve 
 
 been plagued ever since I’ve been here. I’ve never 
 had a quiet day. But to-day I’ve seen something ; 
 and I’ll stay no longer. I’m off now.” “What 
 have you seen.?” “Never you mind, I’m off.” 
 And he went and left Mr. Z- — — all alone in the 
 hut. In a day or two, as the dogs still behaved 
 
 in this strange manner, Mr. Z determined to 
 
 find out what it was, so he fastened one of the 
 dogs on the path with a very short rope. At the 
 usual hour all the dogs began to bark savagely. 
 
192 
 
 ROUXD THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 but the poor animal on the path crouched down 
 foaming at the mouth, and nearly choked itself 
 sti*uggling to get away, and then, after a while, 
 faced the wood and behaved in the same excited 
 
 way. Mr. Z told this to a Maori. “Yes,” 
 
 said the native, “ it’s the spirit of the Maori who 
 owmed the land. He’ll do it for three moons.” In 
 fact, this disturbance did continue for three months, 
 and then ceased altogether. 
 
 I returned from Wairoa to Ohinemutu on Satur- 
 day, only just in time to send my home letter to 
 catch the mail at Auckland by the hands of a 
 waiter, who was summoned to appear before a 
 court of justice, and having heard me inquiring 
 about letters, came up and said, “ Excuse me, sir ; 
 I’m a criminal, and I shall be proud to oblige you.” 
 The clergyman who is in charge of the natives 
 from Tauranga to Taupo, and visits Ohinemutu 
 once a month, arrived at the hotel and constrained 
 each of us to preach twice on the morrow in the 
 ugly church, so that our holiday Sunday was a 
 much-occupied day. There was a native service 
 nominally at half-past nine — nominally, because 
 the Maoris have no clocks or watches and no re- 
 gard for time, of which they have enough and to 
 spare. Sometimes when they have an early Com- 
 munion, they come an hour or two before the time 
 and sit round the church smoking till the doors 
 are opened. On this second Sunday after Christ- 
 mas they crowded to the church when the bell 
 rang, many of them dressed only in their favourite 
 blanket, a simple dress which takes very little 
 trouble in putting on. The service was all in 
 Maori. The lessons were read by the native 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 193 
 
 reader. The psalms were beautifully and rhyth- 
 mically recited, the people keeping well together, 
 and ending all at the same time with their em- 
 phatic — “Ake, ake, ake. Amine.” The words, “Like 
 as a lion that is greedy of his prey, and as it 
 were a lion’s whelp,” occur in that day’s psalms. 
 As the Maoris have neither lions nor the letter 
 “ 1,” the “ lion ” and the “ lion’s whelp ” were trans- 
 formed into “riona.” I preached on the gospel, the 
 clergyman interpreting. The Maoris were very 
 attentive, but I found that preaching through an 
 interpreter multiplies a sermon by at least two, so 
 that I never reached my second point, much less 
 my third. Perhaps it was this unexpected and 
 merciful abbreviation that won the heart of the 
 aged chief who sat in the front row ; for, when 
 the service was over, he arose and rubbed noses 
 with me. 
 
 We left next morning in a coach and five horses, 
 in the opposite direction to that in which we had 
 come. Rain had fallen, and the roads were less 
 dusty and the air pleasantly cool. We soon 
 entered some lovely bush of tawas, rimus, and 
 ratas in splendid bloom, and the rare Todea 
 superba grew plentifully. In one place we drew 
 up on purpose to visit a grove of Todea hymeno- 
 phylloides. They grew with thick stems, like tree- 
 ferns, for two feet in height, and then branched 
 out in magnificent fronds of thick crispness five 
 feet long. Tuis and large pigeons with green back 
 and white breast flitted and flapped across the road. 
 The road has here and there been swampy, and 
 has been mended (what would be said at Kew or 
 Chatsworth !) by laying down across it the trunks 
 
 O 
 
194 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 of tree-ferns ; and — such is their surprising vitality 
 — they had sprouted at each end, and burst into 
 leaf under the horses’ feet. Others, black with 
 sad bush-fires that smouldered beside the road, 
 although charred and disfigured, were making fresh 
 efiforts to revive, and throwing out green tufts at 
 the head. Very different are other trees ; for in- 
 stance, the kauri pines. When once they have smelt 
 the fire, they die in their pride, haughtily refusing 
 to survive the insulting invasion of their primaeval 
 privilege. 
 
 Oxford, a little village — and the only one — on 
 the route, was our half-way house, and Cambridge 
 our destination. Soon after leaving Oxford, a man 
 who sat behind in the coach and was quietly far 
 from sober, tried to clamber out of the coach, and 
 fell beneath it. We felt the wheels thump and bump 
 as they jolted over his leg, and the man rolled 
 from the road into the swamp. Not only was he not 
 killed, but his leg was not broken ; he was able to 
 get up again into the coach, and at Camibridge I 
 saw him limping ofif again in search of more liquor. 
 To see the smooth green Waikato again, winding 
 for miles at the bottom of his deep cuttings, with 
 their succession of terraces as level as if ruled with 
 a plumb-level, was like meeting an old friend. In 
 some places the road, without wall or rail, ran 
 high above the river on the side of the steep slope — 
 a cause of dread to one or two nervous passengers. 
 The church at night was filled, and Canon Bodington 
 preached to them a final, farewell sermon. There 
 was a splendid effect of sunset mingled with the 
 lurid light and rolling smoke of distant bush- 
 fires. The next two days, one of which was the 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 195 
 
 Epiphany, I took farewell of my dear friends in 
 Hamilton Church, and, after spending a night at 
 Mercer, a town lower down the river, arrived at 
 Auckland and rejoined Canon Bodington, who had 
 preceded me, in time to prepare for our voyage to 
 Taranaki. 
 

 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Friday is reckoned by sailors an unlucky day 
 for sailing. But nothing dreadful happened to 
 us for violating the nautical tradition on the 8th 
 of January. Beyond the fact that the wind was 
 high and the water a trifle rough, our sixteen 
 hours’ voyage in the Gairloch, from the port of 
 Onehunga to New Plymouth, was all that we 
 could desire. The sail down the long Manukau 
 harbour is interesting. On the left are wet, sandy 
 flats covered with green weed, on which are flocks 
 of hungry gulls, and, beyond the flats, an irregular, 
 low beach and the cones of volcanic hills. On 
 the right are beautiful bits of wooded rocks and J 
 
 sequestered creeks, and shady glens leading up to .? 
 
 kauri forests and grassy downs. The Manukau * 
 Head and Paratutai Island, separated by a narrow 
 
ROUND THE round WORLD. I97 
 
 channel from the mainland, are fine and bold in 
 outline, and beyond them for a mile or two on 
 either side are foaming, dangerous breakers. It 
 was here that the Orpheus, man-of-war, was 
 wrecked, and scarcely a single soul was saved. 
 
 The waves ran high, and the air was overhung 
 with a gloomy, hazy fog, which was caused by an 
 immense line of bush-fires, ten miles long, in the 
 neighbourhood of New Plymouth. The smoke 
 darkened the air even at this distance — some hun- 
 dred and thirty miles. The fires raged with great 
 fury. Many settlers, chiefly Danes and Germans, 
 were burnt out, their houses, their crops, and all their 
 possessions destroyed, and themselves escaping 
 only with their lives. The cattle were burnt or 
 driven away. 
 
 It \vas early dawn when we landed at the 
 fine breakwater, a mile or so south of Bishop 
 Selwyn’s “ favourite settlement,” of which he 
 used to quote the verse of the psalm, “ The lot 
 is fallen unto me in a fair ground ; yea, I have a 
 goodly heritage.” The scenery is in some respects 
 unique. The Sugar-Loaf is an extraordinary, 
 conical rock, rising sheer and smooth out of the 
 sea to the height of several hundred feet. It is 
 perfectly described by its name. Beneath it are 
 piled other broken rocks, and the sea is strewn 
 with little islands. The sand of the shore is quite 
 black, and is piled up in sand-hills. It is iron- 
 sand, and contains from fifty to seventy per cent, 
 of iron and a little gold. It extends along the 
 greater portion of the west coast of this island. 
 There is a factory at Onehunga, in which iron is 
 worked from this sand. Strong magnets arc used 
 
198 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 to separate the iron from the other substances. 
 The ironsand gives a grimy look to the shore. 
 One is surprised to find that when it is touched, it 
 does not leave a smutty stain on the hands. 
 
 Inland, behind the town, rises the magnificent, 
 snowy cone of Mount Egmont to a height of over 
 eight thousand feet. New' Plymouth, which is the 
 capital of the Taranaki county, w'as one of the 
 earliest colonies of New Zealand, being founded 
 by the New Zealand Company in 1848. It is a 
 quiet country towm, with houses, shops, schools, 
 stores, and halls, chiefly built of wood. The 
 church of St. Mary is one of the few New Zealand 
 churches which are built of stone. The stone is 
 volcanic, and of a quiet grey colour. The parson- 
 age, where we were hospitably received by the 
 Archdeacon of Taranaki, is a low wooden build- 
 ing, fronted by a verandah, and smothered in 
 camellias, fuchsias, jessamine, and magnolias. 
 In the centre of the green lawn is a mulberry 
 covered with large, delicious fruit, haunted by the 
 gay-plumaged, chattering mynah birds, w'hich w'e 
 had not seen since we left the Sandwdch Islands. 
 
 On the night we arrived Canon Bodington began 
 his twelve days’ mission, w'hich included two services 
 at Inglewood tw'elve miles aw'ay in the bush, and 
 another at a little place called the Bell Block along 
 the shore. At the last w'eek-day Communion 
 there were more than fifty communicants, and a 
 letter of thanks signed by more than a hundred 
 persons w'as forwarded to him on his return to 
 Auckland. 
 
 My work lay at Waitara, tw'elve miles northward 
 along the coast. At Waitara there is a river — in 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. leg 
 
 fact, the village is called Waitara after the name of 
 the river — navigable by boats for a few miles. 
 Boating and boat-racing is a favourite amusement, 
 when the toils of day at the office, the counter, and 
 the factory are over. The river is spanned by a huge, 
 old-fashioned wooden bridge, and below the bridge 
 are wharves, where cattle and sheep are driven 
 down narrow gangways on board the little steamers 
 that take advantage of the tide to brave the 
 dangers of the bar, which at low tide is covered 
 only by two feet of water. The wharves are also 
 a favourite resort of the Maori boys, who sit there 
 and angle for fish, which are attracted up the 
 river by the refuse from the frozen-meat works. 
 On the north of the river rises a precipitous, earthen 
 bluff covered with ferns. On the top of the bluff 
 is a Maori “ kainga,” or village, with a low shed 
 for the reception of guests. Some of the inhabi- 
 tants were busy thatching this hotel in expecta- 
 tion of the immediate arrival of friends. Others 
 lay on the grass around a large fire in the centre 
 of the village. The view from this bluff is very 
 fine. In front are the picturesque huts, the fires, 
 and the groups of natives. At the foot of the 
 cliff is the river, and the bridge, and the wharves, 
 and the boats, and the steamer taking sheep on 
 board, and on the other side of the river the 
 village and church, and then the cultivated fields 
 with houses and plantations, and beyond these the 
 wide rolling plain, covered with bush, and here 
 and there the smoke of a bush-fire, and then the 
 splendour of the glorious snow-peak of Mount 
 Egmont rising sheer from the plain, and displaying 
 the full grandeur of its height. I have never seen 
 
200 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 a mountain which asserted itself more majestically; 
 To the right is a short range of hills attached to 
 it. The great mountain appeared in a variety 
 of beautiful aspects. Sometimes glowing white 
 clouds rolled about it with purple shadows and 
 grey haze. Then it became almost clear, with a 
 veil of yellow smoke from the bush-fires below. 
 Against the dark-purple range to the right, the 
 same smoke appeared a lovely, pale, whitish blue. 
 Sometimes the tip of the peak, with glittering snow 
 exquisitely soft, showed alone above a mass of 
 downy clouds, towering aloft in a great surprise. 
 At sunset the smoke made an orange canopy ; the 
 mountain dim grey. Or else behind the faint grey 
 of the mountain was a glowing crocus sky, deepen- 
 ing, later on, into orange and red. Or, again, a 
 glorious, golden’ light flooded the distance, and the 
 sky with the mountains was wrapped in pink haze. 
 
 On Sunday morning, as we were going down the 
 hill to the little wooden church, loud and prolonged 
 cheers announced the arrival of five hundred 
 hlaoris with hundreds of horses. Many of them 
 lodged in the long shed on the bluff; others set up 
 white tents by the roads and on the commons. 
 The place was crowded with them, and the 
 beautiful river, even close up to the bridge, was 
 nearly always rendered an intolerable sight by 
 crowds of these ragamuffins and gypsies of all 
 sorts and sizes flopping about in the water. They 
 showed great variety of taste in dress. Some 
 contented themselves with a blanket or a counter- 
 pane. Others wore portions of European dress, 
 but always of bright, vivid colours. Some affected 
 the customs of their fathers, and wore nothing but 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 201 
 
 what was made of flax, feathers, or dogskin. 
 Some of the women — tattoed on the lower lip — 
 were on horseback, dressed in perfect attire, quite 
 ready for Rotten Row, with riding-habit and black 
 hat and veil. The costume was completed and 
 received its finishing touch by a short pipe in the 
 mouth. These Maoris are an inferior race in 
 habits, thoughts, and language to their northern 
 kin. They are most of them Hau-Haus, and are 
 followers of the false prophet, Tewhiti, who lives at 
 Parihaka south of New Plymouth, and has a bitter 
 hatred of the English and of Christianity. He 
 has persuaded his followers that if they march 
 round about the white settlements, like Joshua 
 round Jericho, the “ pakeha ” will disappear. 
 Meantime he preaches a policy of peace ; and in 
 other ways his influence is good. He encourages 
 the natives to practise their ancestral trades of 
 mat-making and wood-carving, and in.sists upon 
 sobriety. The prophet has sometimes held mis- 
 sions among his people lasting for several weeks. 
 He has preached to them night and day, eating 
 scarcely anything and sleeping only a few minutes 
 at a time, going about speaking first to one group 
 of people and then to another. After one of his 
 missions (so said one of the troupe that visited 
 VVaitara during my stay) the prophet and his 
 general, Tohu, were sitting in their tent, when a 
 voice fell from heaven declaring that all the 
 prophet’s plans for the benefit of his race were 
 approved and accepted, and ordering the .sacrifice 
 of a child. The child was to be washed clean in 
 warm water and then sacrificed. They took a 
 child and washed it, and laid it on a mat, and the 
 
202 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 moment they laid it down the child died. Heaven, 
 they said, had accepted the sacrifice and taken the 
 child. 
 
 The dirty, idle horde only remained two days, 
 and then rode off in all their quaint variety of 
 costume, many of them carrying their tent poles 
 like lances. The affair looked very like a circus. 
 
 This Waitara district was the cause of the war. 
 The land was supposed to be very valuable for 
 cultivation, and the colonists were anxious to 
 obtain it. A native chief, named Taylor, offered 
 to sell it to the Government, and the Government 
 bought it. A superior chief, named King, said he 
 had no power to sell it, and came to New Ply- 
 mouth to plead his cause. He was asked, “ Is the 
 land Taylor’s?” “Yes,” he said, “it belongs to 
 Taylor and all of us.” This was taken as an 
 acknowledgment that the land was Taylor’s, and 
 that therefore Taylor had a right to sell it. The 
 natives refused to accept the decision and erected 
 pahs on the Waitara land to protect it. These 
 were attacked, and thus the war broke out. Bishop 
 Selwyn and nearly all the clergy were of opinion 
 that the war was unjust, and they were con- 
 sequently very unpopular with the colonists for 
 a time. When the bishop landed and walked 
 up through the streets to the parsonage, men 
 called out, “ Knock his hat over his eyes,” and so 
 on. The bishop turned round and faced them 
 like a lion. For half an hour he talked to them 
 and defended what he had done for the natives 
 and what he had said. As a man in the crowd 
 kept on calling out insults the bishop said, 
 “ Kindly clear me a lane that I may see that 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 203 
 
 gentleman.” When they moved, the man slunk 
 away ashamed. Several places in the Waitara 
 district were pointed out to me where skirmishes 
 had been fought or parties of soldiers surprised 
 and cut to pieces. New Plymouth was thrown 
 into a state of siege. 
 
 The meat-works at Waitara form an important 
 part of the trade of the place. It was interesting, 
 for once, to see how the tinning and the freezing 
 were done. 
 
 Outside the factory a man on horseback was, 
 inside a narrow enclosure, engaged in driving cattle 
 into the gangway, which, intersected by sliding 
 partitions, led to the slaughter-house. The cattle are 
 forced on from one compartment to another, the 
 doors shutting swiftly behind them, till they are at 
 last shut into the place of doom, where a man from 
 above severs the spine at the neck with a spear. 
 The last two bullocks were getting very wild, and 
 appeared likely to charge, so the man, seeing his 
 danger, opened the doors and rode out, only just 
 in time to escape the horns of the infuriated 
 animals, which charged fiercely at the sides of the 
 pen. 
 
 The freezing apparatus is very interesting. An 
 engine at work compresses air by repeated strokes 
 until there is a pressure of fifty pounds to the 
 square inch. When the air has reached this high 
 point of pressure, it forces open valves and passes 
 into a cooling chamber (for the air gets so heated 
 by the process of compression that the cylinder in 
 which it is contained is too hot to touch), and then 
 into another. Then, when the air has cooled to a 
 temperature of sixty degrees, it is let out. The 
 
204 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 air expands instantaneously, and passes like a 
 lightning flash from sixty degrees, or near summer 
 heat, to seventy-flve degrees below zero. It is the 
 sudden expansion of the air that causes the intense 
 cold. The outside of the engine, where the air 
 passes into the expanding chamber, is crushed 
 thick with hard snow, and this, not only in the 
 heated summer air of a hot engine-room, but within 
 a few inches of the pipes, which burn you if you 
 touch them. The cold air, after passing round the 
 works, returns to the engine to be compressed 
 again. If there is any waste of air, a wheel is 
 turned, and the engine sucks in the outer air. The 
 suction is so violent as almost to glue a man’s 
 hand to the aperture. 
 
 The mission at Waitara was much broken up by 
 services at Tikorangi, Huirangi, and Manutahi, 
 outlying hamlets, where the services were con- 
 ducted in schoolrooms. But it was well worth 
 visiting these outside places, because a large number 
 of men and young men assembled every time. 
 But it interfered, of course, with the regularity of 
 the work in the central church. It also involved a 
 good deal of riding. Thus on the last Sunday of 
 the mission I had four services, three sermons, two 
 instructions, and twenty miles’ fast riding, with 
 scarcely any interval for food or rest. The two 
 horses which carried the clergyman of the district 
 and myself were evangelically called “ Titus ” and 
 “ Phoebe.” Titus was a strong, brown horse with 
 plenty of bone. He usually lived on the commons, 
 and chose “ fresh fields and pastures new,” and it 
 was sometimes not an easy task to catch him. 
 Phoebe was a grey mare, and could travel very 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 205 
 
 fast. She lived in a paddock, and was very dainty 
 about her water. There was only one spring where 
 she would consent to drink. So, when we rode 
 that way, we had to be content while she made up 
 for a prolonged and voluntary abstinence. As the 
 roads were either mere grassy tracks, or were 
 bordered with grass, we were able to go smoothly 
 and fast, except when it was quite dark, which it 
 sometimes was, as we did not get home till eleven 
 at night. 
 
 I preached every midday in the yard of the 
 meat-works — an unsavoury place, and not appe- 
 tising just before dinner — to the men and boys, 
 who sat round a gasometer and upon a kind of 
 tank, smoking. Once I preached on the bridge, 
 and on the two Sunday nights in the public hall, for 
 the sake of accommodating a larger congregation. 
 
 On Wednesday, the 20th of January, I returned 
 to New Plymouth, and at the parsonage saw Canon 
 Bodington, who returned to Auckland next day. 
 
 In the afternoon I went on to Inglewood, and 
 held a service at night. The bush was on fire in 
 many places. Some spots looked weird and deso- 
 late under the moon — tall skeletons of burnt trees 
 standing up gaunt and dark, and here and there a 
 tongue of red flame darting out suddenly high 
 overhead from the heart of a tree. I was very 
 kindly entertained at the house of one of the 
 churchwardens. 
 
 At Inglewood there is a cheese factory. The 
 new milk is brought in barrels. They are swung 
 from the cart into the factory and weighed, and 
 then the contents are poured into a vat, and 
 drained off through a pipe into a patent sepa- 
 
206 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD. 
 
 rator. The separator revolves rapidly. The cream 
 keeps at the centre, and the milk at the out- 
 side. The cream is drawn off into deep pails 
 and the milk into a vat, where it looks all thick 
 with froth. The cream, after being kept one 
 day, is put into a large revolving churn. When 
 the butter is made, it is twice washed by turning 
 water on to it through a pipe. The buttermilk is 
 poured into another vat, and the cheese is made 
 from the milk and the buttermilk. The cheeses 
 weigh forty-five pounds each, and are sold at four- 
 pence per pound. Some smaller cheeses are made 
 with cream in them, and are sold at sevenpence 
 per pound. They are exported to Australia. 
 
SUGAR-LOAF ROCKS, NEW PLYMOUTH. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The Taranaki Mission was now at an end, and 
 I had determined to utilize the few spare days that 
 remained by seeing something more of the country, 
 either by visiting the false prophet in his lair, or 
 by ascending the towering, snowy cone of Mount 
 Egmont. We decided in favour of the alpine 
 excursion. Mr. Devenish, who has since been 
 ordained, rode over to Inglewood from New 
 Plymouth, and my kind friend, Mr. Baker, the 
 clergyman of Waitara, brought over the two evan- 
 gelical horses. He had some difficulty in getting 
 them through the burning bush, and Phoebe, who 
 was being led for me, and was in high spirits, 
 enjoyed a playful and satisfactory roll in the deep 
 dust, and, when she reached Inglewood, required 
 some brushing before she was fit to proceed. 
 
 In the village we purchased provision for our 
 journey — si.x pounds of biscuit, three tins of salmon. 
 
208 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 half a pound of tea, and three yards of calico for 
 a tent. As it happened we did not use more than 
 half the biscuits and one tin of salmon, and never 
 unrolled the calico. We borrowed rugs and 
 waterproof blankets, a “ billy,” which is something 
 between a saucepan and a pail, and two tin panni- 
 kins. We strapped our things on the horses and 
 rode off in the evening. It was beautifully fine, 
 and we enjoyed splendid views of the great peak 
 soaring aloft above the dense forest. Three miles 
 of road brought us to the few scattered houses 
 dignified by the name of Egmont. Here the son 
 of Mr. Greylong, the schoolmaster, drew us a rough 
 map of the track so far as he knew it, and this 
 proved a great help. The boy, who was about ten 
 years old, was thoroughly colonial ; in order to 
 find his father a few hundred yards away he spent 
 as much time and energy, as would have sufficed 
 for the work, in catching a horse, after a good deal 
 of shouting and running, and saddling it, in order 
 to save the walk. 
 
 At Egmont we turned sharp to the left on to a 
 grassy track, and dived into the heart of the bush. 
 Our intention was to seek for the last inhabited 
 house — where a German settler, named Pieters, 
 had made a clearing in the forest — the most 
 advanced outpost of civilization. Here we pro- 
 posed to leave our horses, as it was the only 
 chance of pasture, and walk on and encamp in the 
 bush. The word pasture would amuse an English 
 farmer or groom if he could see the place, for it 
 looks much more like a timber-yard than a field, 
 being encumbered with huge, half-burnt, fallen trees, 
 through which none but a hungry nag could, thread 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 200 
 
 his way to find a few mouthfuls of grass here and 
 there. Pieters had the reputation of being very 
 unsociable, a dreadful atheist, and a lecturer on 
 infidelity. He had also tamed a bull, which was 
 perfectly docile and followed him about like a dog, 
 and came with him into market at Inglewood to 
 carry his purchases. There was something very 
 weird and romantic in riding in single file in the 
 dusk towards this mysterious person along the 
 green, narrow track cut through the lonely bush ; 
 the avenues of tree-fern almost meeting over- 
 head, and the huge forest trees towering above 
 them, covered with masses of hanging ferns and 
 parasites. It soon began to get dark, and when 
 we reached the clearing and the hut on the edge 
 of a little creek, and hailed Pieters, he said it 
 would be impossible and even dangerous, to try 
 to find the track that night ; old hand as he was, 
 he wouldn’t attempt it himself. He offered to let 
 us sleep in his cowshed, an offer which we thank- 
 fully accepted, and he said he would help us to 
 arrange a bed when he had done milking the cows. 
 All round us was a fantastic glimmering of bush- 
 fires, and spouts of flame darting from the lofty 
 chimneys of hollow trees. On the other side of the 
 creek an immense rata, measuring a chain (sixty- 
 four feet) round, and reckoned to be the largest 
 in New Zealand, was smouldering and falling 
 to pieces. The “ more-pork ” owls, so named from 
 their note, were calling to each other from side to 
 side ; and occasionally a ka-ka parrot flew scream- 
 ing across the opening. 'While Pieters milked the 
 cows we converted a bit of smouldering log into 
 a blaze, and soon we had a grand, roaring bonfire, 
 
 p 
 
210 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 on which we boiled our “ billy ” and threw in a 
 handful of tea. 
 
 Pieters joined our party and contributed some 
 new milk. We found that he possessed a Bible, 
 which he lent us, and he remained, respectful and 
 interested, while we said our evensong standing 
 round the fire, reading about Laban and Jacob, 
 and reciting the psalm, “ O give thanks unto the 
 Lord, for Pie is gracious ; and His mercy endureth 
 for ever.” Then we fell into conversation with 
 Pieters, which lasted till midnight. He is a 
 Hanoverian, and has been a wanderer all over the 
 world, and at last settled down in the wild heart 
 of the bush, all alone with his wife and his four 
 boys, Walter, Oscar, Noble, and George. He was 
 very intelligent, fond of poetry, and an especial 
 admirer of Schiller, and was delighted when I 
 repeated a piece from “ Maria Stuart,” the relic of 
 a school speech-day ; although, as Pieters’ chief 
 desire was to clear away the trees, he did not 
 sympathize so heartily as we did with the captive 
 queen’s “ Dank, dank diesen freundlich griinen 
 baumen.” He was, no doubt, a Freethinker, but 
 “lying,” as Carlyle says, “open to light,” and cer- 
 tainly not an atheist. The wonder is that, brought 
 up in a somewhat narrow creed and living such a 
 roving life and banished from all religious and 
 social sympathies, he should retain any real faith 
 at all. But the religious instinct was quite alive 
 within him. He had a true foundation of faith in 
 the midst of his “honest doubt.” He held no 
 formulated creed, but he was not bitter nor hostile 
 to ours. And it was deeply touching to find him, 
 in his isolated solitude, although scorned as an 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 211 
 
 atheist, treasuring our English Bible in the heart 
 of his family, and cherishing a simple veneration 
 for the “ Supreme Being,” whom he acknowledged 
 though he did not know Him. Pieters certainly 
 had the graces of patience and charity, for he 
 listened sympathetically to my argument and pro- 
 vided us with what we needed. He allowed our 
 horses to pasture amongst his logs, and he came 
 with us to his stack and helped us to pull armfuls 
 of new-mown hay for our bed. I shall always 
 defend a cowshed as a sleeping-chamber, at least 
 when, as in this case, there are no resident cows. 
 It was comfortable, if not actually luxurious. One 
 side of the shed was quite open, and a beam lay 
 across it just beneath the roof, and loose pieces of 
 rimu timber, resting on the beam, formed a kind of 
 loft. Here, after removing some saddles, saws, 
 and a scythe, we spread our hay and our rugs, and 
 slept like tops. 
 
 The cock crew — and he was somewhere very 
 close — at three o’clock in the morning, and in 
 obedience to his alarum we got up, replenished the 
 fire, and boiled the “billy.” By this time the 
 dawn had begun, and we began our march, taking 
 only some provisions, as we hoped to return before 
 night. There was a woodcutter’s tent on the other 
 side of the creek. I ventured to call to the men 
 to ask the way. They came out and politely 
 showed it us. One man came from Warwick- 
 shire, and was full of questions and recollec- 
 tions of home. He said to me next day, “After 
 you were gone I couldn’t sleep. I turned it all 
 over in my mind ; and I cried, I did, as I lay 
 there, to think of it all.” The track was good, but 
 
212 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 blocked here and there by fallen timber. Riding 
 would have been quite impossible. We cut 
 alpenstocks and went on. Ka-ka parrots were 
 whistling and screaming overhead. There was a 
 chorus of tuis and of bell-birds, which Captain 
 Cook compared to “ a concert of silver bells ; ” 
 and large, green pigeons, with white pinafores, 
 were calling and fluttering and pecking at the 
 berries of the fuchsia and other trees. The ground 
 was deeply carpeted with every kind of delicate 
 hymenophylluni — the rarnm, flabellat2un, pulchei'- 
 rimum, demisstim, and the rest — and the round, 
 smooth kidney-fern with its frill of spores that 
 makes it look like an Elizabethan ruff ; here 
 and there the exquisite Todea, superba and hyme- 
 nophylloides, showed their feathery tufts. Here were 
 the grand, sword-like, serrated, fronds of Loinaria 
 discolor ; there was a bed of Aspleniuin, obtusatum 
 or bidbifernm, or a plant of Nephrodhnn hispidiilum, 
 or Polypodium pennigerum. Great fuchsia trees, the 
 red, paper-like bark scaling off in dangling shreds, 
 and covered with red blossom or purple fruit, leaned 
 across the path, and the huge ratas, like a bundle 
 of knotted trees bound together, rose to a vast 
 height, every crevice filled with the long sweeping 
 fronds of Asplcnium falcatiim and Lomaria fili- 
 formis,dL\\d the endless, quaint shapes of Polypodium 
 pustulatum ; and almost every trunk was enveloped 
 in climbing ferns, hymenophylhim, Pellaa roUindi- 
 folia, Tmesipieris Fosteri, and others. 
 
 At seven o’clock we halted for breakfast near 
 a little brook that ran among mossy stones under 
 a low bank, clothed with masses of Lomaria elongata 
 with its thick, black stem and leaves like ribbed 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 213 
 
 silk, one of the grandest of New Zealand ferns. 
 Here we left all our superfluous luggage and 
 clothes and prepared for the ascent, but took the 
 precaution first to mark the spot by hanging up a 
 white towel and a handkerchief. Another hour and 
 a half brought us to a small clearing that had been 
 made with the view of providing a camping-place. 
 We were now ascending a sharp, wooded spur, and 
 the views looking back, down the deep gullies and 
 ranges, upon the interminable miles of untrodden 
 bush, were wild and impressive. Here and there 
 the country was steaming with smoke. Near 
 this clearing we found white violets, white primula, 
 large white euphrasy, a white kind of lobelia, and 
 a yellow ragwort. Here the vegetation began to 
 change. We entered a thicket of cedar, with bare 
 reddish trunk and thick top, the trunk clothed at 
 the summit with moss and fern. Then we passed to 
 a thick tangle of flowering, scented shrubs, olearia, 
 senecio, and veronica. About a mile beyond the 
 clearing the ridge became impracticable, and we 
 had to descend two hundred feet down a landslip, 
 and then to creep up the gorge under a huge, tower- 
 ing rock called Humphrey’s Castle. Here we found 
 two kinds of daisies, a white harebell and a parsley 
 fern. When we got on to the short turf we found 
 a large yellow buttercup. And then began the 
 tug of war. For about five hours we had to plough 
 through loose shale and dust and scoria up a 
 cone as steep as Vesuvius under the blaze of a sun 
 that was like a furnace. On either side of us were 
 great streaks of snow that were too steep to tread 
 on without an ice-axe. We lunched off biscuits 
 and iced marmalade. 
 
214 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 It was half-past four when we crossed the 
 dome of white snow and climbed the pinnacle 
 of rocks that forms the summit. It was a 
 glorious and almost dreadful spot. It was fearful 
 to see the dome of snow, curving smooth over, 
 and dipping into a waste of seething cloud, or 
 on another side shooting almost perpendicularly 
 down between precipices of rock. The smoke from 
 the bush-fires hid the interior of the country. All 
 that we could see was, far away, the snowy summit 
 of the Ruapehu volcano. The smoke presented 
 an extraordinary sight. It rose up till it found 
 its equilibrium in the rarified air, and then rested 
 and lay like a dark, ruled line across the sky, or 
 like the floor of an upper story to the earth, on 
 which human feet (the thought made one shudder) 
 might tread. But what was most glorious to look 
 at was an almost complete semicircle of the sea, 
 all glowing yellow to the west, against which 
 innumerable little, brown clouds far beneath us 
 looked like boats or canoes floating on the water. 
 One of my companions would not believe — I do 
 not think he believes even now — that it was the 
 sea, because the horizon seemed so prodigiously 
 hisrh. The other had never touched snow before. 
 New Plymouth and the breakwater were con- 
 spicuously distinct, and we could see at various 
 spots the streaming smoke of the bush-fires. I do 
 not suppose that anywhere else in the world such 
 a view could be seen. The mountain is so 
 absolutely alone, so princely in its height, so sheer 
 in its unfettered rise, so near the sea, and the base 
 so buried in wide woods, and, adding the bush- 
 fires, so strangely mysterious, that the whole effect 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 215 
 
 is unique and overpowering. As we descended 
 we observed the shadow of the peak projected by 
 the sinking sun in distinct outline on the clouds at 
 our feet. One of the party rolled some huge 
 stones down the side of the mountain. In that 
 great solitude there was no danger of hurting any 
 living soul, so that we could watch without any 
 misgivings the terrific leaps and crashing shocks 
 of the great missiles as they bounded out of sight 
 into the gulfs below. 
 
 As it was perfectly fine we did not need to be 
 guided by the sheets of newspaper we had put 
 under stones in case of mist. It was a stiff pull 
 up the landslip from the gorge, and we were very 
 glad we had left the “ billy ” full of water at the top 
 of the landslip. It was the first mouthful of water 
 we had tasted since the morning. It began to get 
 dark as we entered the bush. Here some wild 
 cattle crashed across the path. In a very short 
 while it was impossible to see. We lighted a 
 candle and went on stumbling over the roots and 
 stones till the candle got quite low. Then we 
 placed the end on the flat of the billhook till at 
 last it flickered and went out. All hope that 
 we should reach even Pieters’ hut that night had 
 long since been abandoned. Then we almost 
 exhausted our store of matches to light the way. 
 Then we were in the dark. Fortunately, the moon 
 began to rise, and through the dense mass of trees 
 there was just a faint glimmer which made the track 
 appear a shade less dark than the rest of the wood. 
 We struggled slowly along for some time, and 
 then, to our great joy, we discovered the white 
 towel hanging on the tree where we had left our 
 
2i6 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 things in the morning. It was quite like getting 
 home. We lighted a fire, made some tea, warmed 
 and put on our extra clothes, and then lay down to 
 sleep, each under a chosen rata ti'ee, which kept off 
 the dew and made a dry, if rather a hard bed. I 
 don’t suppose we slept very much, perhaps an 
 hour, and I think I preferred the greater part of 
 the time to sit in front of the warm fire. 
 
 Thedelicious bell-birds sang us their inexpressible 
 reveilleezX three o’clock, and after a little breakfast 
 we trudged on cheerfully and reached Pieters’ at 
 about ten o’clock, where Mrs. Pieters hospitably 
 entertained us and refused any remuneration. 
 However, she consented to accept our calico and 
 the remainder of our provisions. Then we 
 saddled up and rode off to Egmont and Inglewood. 
 Half-way we were met by my kind host and a 
 friend riding out to search for us, thinking we were 
 lost in the bush, and they had brought with them 
 a piece of beef and a large loaf stuffed with butter, 
 thinking that we might, when discovered, be 
 starving. 
 
 I returned by train to New Plymouth. Before 
 I left I visited “the meeting of the waters,’’ a 
 lovely spot with deep wooded banks, and broad 
 shallow*?, and deep, green pools haunted by wild 
 fowl. Here I noticed — the southernmost point — 
 the nikau palm. Taranaki is a great country for 
 ferns. The Aspleniuni Anstrale and the edible fern 
 grow nowhere else in the colony. I had arranged 
 to leave on the 26th of January, and walked towards 
 the pier. There was a very heavy sea ; the tide 
 was rising and the waves breaking right over. I 
 was wondering how we should get on board, when 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 21 / 
 
 suddenly the vessel steamed off. It was too rough 
 to take passengers on board. They had taken 
 cattle ; but one of the trucks had been washed off 
 
 the line and almost into the sea. My voyage was 
 delayed two days, and I landed at Onehunga, as 
 I had sailed from it, on a Friday. I found the 
 
2i8 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 General Synod in full session, engaged in dis- 
 cussing the question how to define the word 
 “communicant.” Ultimately it was decided to 
 leave it to the conscience of each person who 
 had thus to describe himself. The venerable 
 primate, Dr. Harper, was presiding, and all the 
 other six bishops, including Bishop Selwyn of 
 Melanesia, were there. The Synod opened on 
 the previous day with a grand service in St. 
 Sepulchre’s, and the sermon was preached by the 
 Primate of Australia, Dr. Barry. During the 
 session the Samoan ambassadors were presented 
 to the Synod. 
 
 The last day of January was our last Sunday 
 in Auckland. At St. Sepulchre’s there was a high 
 celebration of the Holy Communion, beautifully 
 sung, if I remember right, to Berthold Tours in F. 
 The primate was the celebrant. He was assisted 
 by the Bishop of Auckland and the archdeacon. 
 His primatial cross was carried before the primate. 
 I preached on the Gospel, the stilling of the storm. 
 At night I preached my last sermon at St. Paul’s 
 — it was within their Dedication Octave — on the 
 Conversion of the Apostle. Canon Bodington 
 preached a farewell sermon at St. Sepulchre’s on 
 the subject of Conversion. 
 
 On Monday there was an ordination at St. 
 Mary’s. The service was in the Maori language. 
 Two natives were ordained, one a priest and the 
 other a deacon ; and the Bishop of Wellington 
 preached the sermon in the Maori language, of 
 which he is a complete master. In the proces- 
 sion the Maori clergy and the white clergy walked 
 in pairs side by side, a native and a white together. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 219 
 
 I had the pleasure of meeting the native clergy, 
 some of whom were tattooed, and also Paul, the 
 chief of Orakei, at luncheon at Bishopscourt. 
 The speeches of the Primate and the Bishop of 
 Auckland were interpreted by the Archdeacon of 
 Waimate. The Bishop of Wellington spoke in 
 the native language, and the archdeacon also 
 translated the speeches of the Maoris. One of 
 them said, “ The prophet somewhere says that the 
 wolf shall lie down with the lamb. We were once 
 like the wolf. Then you came and stroked us 
 down and made us like the lamb. When we catch 
 a wild pig we hold its nose over the smoke till ii is 
 stupid ; then we tame it. So we were like the 
 wild pig, and you came and made us tame.” 
 
 After lunch I gave an address to the Maori 
 clergy in the chapel, through the archdeacon’s 
 interpretation, as also Canon Bodington had done on 
 Saturday. All that I could do in the way of 
 speaking their language was to salute them with 
 a “ Tena koto.” The singular form of this salutation 
 is “Tena koe,” and the dual “Tena koro.” Early 
 on Tuesday morning we bade farewell to our kind 
 friends, of whom several accompanied us to One- 
 hunga, and there took a passage on board the 
 Hawea, bound for Nelson in the South Island. 
 
 At luncheon I sat next to a Roman ecclesiastic 
 of high rank in New Zealand. He was aggres- 
 sively discourteous. Having ascertained from me 
 my name, he began at once by saying, with a sweet 
 smile, “ I suppose you’re not so high as to call 
 yourself ‘ Father ’? ” I replied that I did not call 
 myself any names, and then quoted a piece from 
 George Herbert, in which he says that the country 
 
220 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 parson has as thoroughly possessed himself of the 
 idea of being the father of his people as though he 
 had begotten them all. He said, “ I suppose you 
 know that your opinions are not older than the Ox- 
 ford movement.” The repartee was obvious. “Even 
 if that were true, they would be older than yours ; 
 for the Infallibility of the Pope and the Immaculate 
 Conception of the Virgin Mary only date from 
 1870.” It was the only instance in the whole of 
 our tour round the world, in which personal rude- 
 ness was offered us. Evidently he did not think that 
 the effect of our mission was Romewards, and that 
 we were friends in di.sguise. Later in the day I lent 
 him a copy of Bishop Cosin’s “ Religion of this 
 Realm of England,” which, although a little out of 
 date, gives a not unfair idea of the standpoint of 
 the English Church, and I talked with him for two 
 hours. He softened down considerably, and I hope 
 he obtained some new insight into things as they are. 
 
 Certainly in our mission we did not proselytize. 
 Persons of all “ denominations ” came to us ; and, 
 while we never concealed our opinion that the 
 English Church ought to embrace the whole 
 English race, and reproved those for forsaking 
 their mother who had been nourished in her 
 bosom, we never tried to allure people away from 
 the denominations in which they had been brought 
 up. I remember, for instance, two ladies coming 
 to me on the same day ; the one was a Roman 
 and the other a Wesleyan. The former was dis- 
 contented with the Roman Church. There were 
 two or three doctrines which she could not accept. 
 
 I advised her to go to her bishop and tell him her 
 difficulty. If he refused her the Sacraments unless 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 221 
 
 she accepted these doctrines, then she was at 
 liberty to apply for admission to the Church of 
 England. The bishop happened to be at that 
 time in Australia, and I do not know whether my 
 inquirer ever took the advice. The Wesleyan 
 wanted to make a mission resolution. I found 
 that she was leading a good, Christian life, doing 
 her duties at home, constant in prayer and reading 
 the Bible, and engaged in works of charity. 
 “Well,” I .said, “what shall it be?” It really was 
 not easy to say. It did not occur to me to 
 persuade her to give up the Wesleyan chapel. 
 Then a thought struck me. I said, “You have a 
 quarterly fast, haven’t you ? ” “ Yes,” she replied. 
 
 “ Do the Wesleyans,” I asked, “ever observe it?” 
 “No.” “Well, then,” I said, “make a resolution 
 to observe the Wesleyan quarterly fast.” So she 
 made it then and there, and I subscribed my name 
 and gave her a blessing. And I hope she still 
 keeps her resolution. 
 
 But the want of unity is a great disaster, and it 
 is a wonder that a commercial people does not find 
 out and resent the inconveniences of it from the 
 financial point of view, if from no higher. It is a 
 saddening sight to see in a little township three or 
 four different places of worship where one would 
 be enough ; and upon a small population it is an 
 unnecessary and unwarrantable tax. 
 
222 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 THE SOUTH ISLAND. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 We anchored for the night within the New 
 Plymouth breakwater, and early next day resumed 
 our southward course. It was a breezy holiday, 
 and as we sat on deck and watched the grand, 
 sweeping outlines of Mount Egmont fading out of 
 sight in the distance, I enjoyed a day in company 
 with Shakspeare and read the fortunes, or rather 
 misfortunes, of Timon of Athens, till at sunset 
 we came in sight of a fine headland on our left, 
 cloud-capped with vapour, which clung to the 
 land and assumed the shape of the hills. Then 
 we saw the lighthouse on the long, low reef of 
 Boulder Bank, and entered safely the only harbour 
 where Bishop Selwyn ever employed a pilot. 
 
 The town of Nelson, which is nicknamed 
 “ Sleepy Hollow,” has a population of about seven 
 thousand souls. It reminds one of some Swiss or 
 Italian town in an alpine valley. The high hills 
 almost close round it and shut out the sea. It 
 might well have suggested the poem of ‘‘ The 
 Lotus-eaters,” a land in which it always seems 
 afternoon. The climate is one of the most equable 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 223 
 
 and delightful in the world. “ No one,” says 
 Bishop Selwyn, “ knows what the climate is till he 
 has basked in the almost perpetual sunshine of 
 Tasman’s gulf.” It is a paradise of summer fruits. 
 Rich orchards of nectarines, pears, peaches, and 
 plums surround the houses. Almost any fruit 
 might be grown there. Over the verandah of the 
 house where we stayed with a relation of Canon 
 Bodington’s, a vine ran riot, covered with hundreds 
 of bunches of grapes. 
 
 There is a large high-school for girls, and a 
 “ Nelson College,” belonging to the^Church, for boys 
 between the ages of twelve and twenty, containing 
 at that time some thirty boys. Bishopscourt, to 
 which is attached a theological college, lies behind 
 the town on a slope of the hill, a picturesque group 
 of buildings embowered in wood. The position of 
 the principal church is remarkably fine. It stands 
 on the jutting spur of a hill covered with trees, 
 and a long flight of steps leads down to the main 
 street, which runs straight towards the shore. An 
 acre of land belongs to the church, and the re- 
 mainder of the site belongs to the town, and is 
 used as a public recreation ground. The name 
 of the town, given it by the New Zealand Company 
 in 1841, has also suggested the names of the 
 streets, which are called Trafalgar, Hardy, Bronte, 
 and so on. 
 
 We stayed three nights in Nelson, and on 
 Saturday, the 6th of February, we started by 
 coach at six o’clock for a four days’ drive to Hoki- 
 tika, on the coast of Westland. On the first day 
 we travelled ninety-five miles to Fern Flat. For 
 some thirty miles our way lay through the Waimea 
 
224 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 plains, and a railway runs parallel to the road as 
 far as Bellgrove. The richly cultivated plains, 
 with their English homesteads, orchards, hop-yards, 
 and cornfields, busy with harvest, are bounded on 
 the left by a range of hills, and on the right by 
 the river and its estuary, beyond which a high 
 range of mountains runs out to form Cape Farewell. 
 Through the comfortable villages of Richmond, 
 Brightwater, Wakefield, Foxhill, where there is a 
 brewery, and Bellgrove, where there is a comfortable 
 wayside inn, we reached the foot of a mountain 
 pass, and entered the bush. Bishop Selwyn found 
 this district “ rapidly advancing into a state of 
 plenty and independence,” nor could he “ discover 
 a single industrious man who was not in a position 
 of comfort and abundance.” On the coach, how- 
 ever, were two men from Australia going to a 
 new gold reef on the Buller river, who contrasted 
 colonial life unfavourably with life at home. They 
 had to carry a fifty or sixty pound swag all day, 
 ford rivers, and lie down at night in damp fern. 
 I need not explain what a swag is. The contents, 
 no doubt, vary, but they always include tools, and 
 generally a good weight of flour neatly strapped 
 in a thick blanket. A West Coast “ swagger ” may 
 be always distinguished from any other, because 
 he carries his swag strapped upright on his back 
 to avoid catching in the bush. Others, who have 
 lived where bush is more rare, carry the swag 
 strapped across from the shoulder to the waist. 
 
 For many miles after leaving Bellgrove, the road 
 positively swarmed with bevies of Californian quail, 
 all the dear little chicks running scrambling about, 
 and the smart old cock, with his crest-plumes erect 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION, 225 
 
 like a Red Indian chief, perching on a bush con- 
 spicuously near the coach, in order to draw away 
 attention from the rest of the family. After crossing 
 the desolate, fern-covered ridge of hills, called 
 “ Spooner’s Ranges,” where we found for the first 
 time the magnificent daisy, called “cotton-plant” 
 from its soft white stem and the downy back of 
 the sword-like leaves, and enjoyed a grand view 
 over the Waimea plains and Nelson Harbour, we 
 descended into the bed of a shingly torrent and 
 out into a plain covered with flax and dracaena, 
 and soon had our first experience of fording a river 
 in a coach. The novelty soon wore off. The river 
 was the Motupiko and was joined by the Motueka. 
 We lunched at a lovely little cottage “ quite over- 
 canopied with luscious woodbine ” and “sweet musk 
 roses,” and with an ideal orchard attached to it. 
 Seeing no fruit on the table, I asked the landlady 
 whether she meant to give us a dish of cherries. 
 “ Oh,” she said, “ you can go into the orchard and 
 help yourself to as many as you like ; and green- 
 gages too.” A man who was gathering them gave 
 me as much as I could carry away. Here we 
 began to hear tales of the bush-fires, which had 
 been frequent in this, the driest summer that had 
 been known (they said) for twenty years. The 
 grass is long and dry, and when it catches fire, it 
 “ all goes off in a puff.” The river is quite full of 
 what they call salmon-trout. They may be seen, 
 we were told, by scores, and are very large, even 
 up to fifteen pounds. Our hostess said that some- 
 times, when she was bobbing for eels with a worm 
 tied to a string (she couldn’t bear hooks ; she was 
 afraid of them), one of these fish would seize the 
 
 Q 
 
226 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 worm and run away with it, and then suddenly, 
 drop it. 
 
 From Motueka for miles and miles we slowly 
 ascended through the bush, until we reached 
 the summit^ of the pass from which we caught 
 our first view of snow mountains. Beneath us 
 was a deep valley, and the narrow road wound 
 in zigzags down through the bush. The horses 
 (we changed six times in the day) are well 
 accustomed to the work, and swing the coach along 
 at a ■ great pace. There are some queer bits to 
 go round. In one place, under an overhanging 
 rock, we met a huge waggon drawn by five 
 horses. To pass seemed impossible. Our driver 
 was also nodding at the moment, and awoke with a 
 start. He drove with great boldness and skill, as 
 if he meant to go straight over the edge. We 
 could look down through the ferns and see the 
 steep bank sloping to the river far below. Then 
 we stopped. The moment the waggon had passed 
 us, our two leaders reared straight up. I wish an 
 instantaneous photograph could have been taken. 
 It would have been a pretty sight. At another 
 place there was a sharp turn in the road which 
 was an acute angle. A bit of rail, which really 
 was no sort of protection, but only for the look 
 of the thing, perhaps to inspire the passengers 
 on the box with a false sense of security, guarded 
 the apex. As we cleverly swung round it at 
 a quick trot, the horses leaning right over, I said 
 to the driver, “ That was rather an awkward bit, 
 wasn’t it ” “Yes,” he said, with an air of gaiety 
 and unconcern, “ we call it the G7'ecian Bend!' So 
 we descended into the Hope valley. The bush 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 227 
 
 was quite different from anything we had seen 
 before. It consisted almost exclusively of black 
 birch — really a beech — growing very thick, and often 
 to a great height, and entirely free from the cling- 
 ing plants, which are so striking a feature in the 
 northern forests. Here we saw ka-ka parrots 
 and a flight of little green parrots with red heads, 
 shrieking and scrambling over the bushes close 
 to the coach. They are often caught and caged, 
 and learn to speak. In fact, I was told that at 
 the sawmills at Waimate, the parrots used to 
 come round the men at their dinner hour to pick 
 up what they could, and that they grew so tame 
 that the men taught them to say, “ Pretty Dick 
 wants a cup of tea.” It would be startling to hear 
 the birds in the heart of the wild bush asking 
 pathetically for afternoon tea. 
 
 We also saw the wekas, or Maori wood-hens, 
 pecking by the roadside, quite unconcerned, as the 
 coach came thundering past them. These birds 
 cannot fly, and they are very inquisitive. We 
 were told that at a place called Jackson’s, on the 
 road between Hokitika and Christchurch, the 
 owner of the house, a pious Christian, used always 
 carefully on Sunday to study a favourite old Bible. 
 One Sunday he missed it, and after hunting for it 
 high and low, he gave up the search. On the 
 following Sunday, as he wandered regretfully 
 through the bush, he came upon a weka with the 
 lost Bible open before her, and all the little wekas 
 in a semicircle round. In these woods we also 
 saw robin grey-breasts. 
 
 The Hope river is clear and dark, overhung with 
 black birch, and the same dense forest covers the 
 
228 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 Steep mountains to their very summit. The Hope 
 valley opens into another, through which the 
 masterful Buller comes rushing down from the 
 lakes Rotorua and Rotoiti green and foaming. 
 The view from Hope Junction looking down 
 stream is one of the grandest I have ever seen, 
 and quite unusual. The steep hills, wooded to the 
 summit, rise on either side to the height of four 
 thousand feet. Down the narrow valley ranges 
 of mountains cross and recross each other, and 
 seem to offer no possible outlet to the broad and 
 foaming river that sweeps and curls round islets 
 and bits of broken shore with groups of graceful 
 trees. The valley gradually narrowed, till the 
 river became deep and smooth between ledges of 
 square rock. It was quite dark, except for the 
 illumination of the bright stars, when we reached 
 Fern Flat, a romantic oasis in the bosom of the 
 hills, where we spent the night. Our morning 
 drive showed us the same magnificent scenery, 
 huge, wooded mountains, among which the pent- 
 up river rushes through rocks and white sand, 
 grand trunks of black birch, and lovely ferns, 
 through which the road ran often at the height 
 of several hundred feet above the river. Here 
 and there a wooden channel or water-race crossed 
 the road, and a gold digger’s shanty stood near, 
 and wires were stretched across the river on which 
 was slung a box, or, as it is called by a courtesy 
 title, a chair, the only means of communication 
 between the two banks. We had surprising effects 
 of mist, dense and grey, rolling up from the river, 
 and climbing the steep woods under a glittering 
 sun. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 229 
 
 Suddenly we came upon the small town of the 
 Lyell. A hotel stands on a jutting headland. 
 The coach swung round this, and we burst all at 
 once into a regular street with hotels and banks, 
 clinging to the side of the hill under the prominent 
 crag, hundreds of feet above the junction of the 
 Lyell creek, which is spanned by a high wooden 
 bridge, and the Buller river. It was a scene that ' 
 Turner would have loved to paint. It was Sunday, 
 and the streets were full of lounging men. There is 
 a church in the place, and also a chapel, but there 
 was no service whatever. If we had only known 
 this we should certainly have preached in the street. 
 But over the whole of this district there was quite 
 a famine of spiritual things. From the Waimea 
 plains down to Hokitika, a distance, as the crow 
 flies, of some hundred and thirty miles, there was 
 only one priest and one deacon. There seems 
 to be no reason why a clergyman should not be 
 supported at the Lyell ; and there is a great 
 opening for the work of itinerating missions. 
 
 Three weeks before we passed, the coach came 
 from Hope Junction to the Lyell through the 
 Are. There was only one passenger. It was known 
 that the bush was on fire ; but the passenger said 
 to Cassidy, the driver, “If you can manage to 
 drive, I shall be all right lying in the bottom of 
 the coach.” So off they set, and came to the 
 place where the bush was burning. It was not at 
 first so bad as they expected ; but then the wind 
 rose, and before they had time to risk turning the 
 coach round on that narrow road, the fire closed in 
 behind and cut off their retreat, and then came 
 roaring after them. The driver urged his horses 
 
230 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 to their utmost speed. The fire gave chase, and it 
 became a race for life. Although the horses gal- 
 lopped, the fire was too swift for them and caught 
 them up. The coach was all blistered with the 
 heat, the horses were singed, and their manes and 
 tails burned' off. The driver’s whip was burned 
 in his hand, and his whiskers were singed off. 
 Then through the smoke he saw a clearing. There 
 Avas a turn in the road ; he dashed round it, and 
 was safe. A single fallen tree would have caused 
 them all to be burned to death. This was the only- 
 day on which the driver was ever known to be 
 excited, and not without reason. 
 
 There are several “ claims ” at the Lyell. One of 
 them, named the “ Alpine,” is productive ; but most 
 of the claims on the Buller have been abandoned. 
 The rock in the neighbourhood is a rough-grained 
 granite, with large flakes of mica in it. 
 
 After crossing the Lyell creek the road ascends, 
 and then leads down to a ferry across the Buller 
 river. It was a lovely spot, that reminded one of 
 the Tweed below Melrose, and would have made 
 a perfect picture. A broad, deep pool of green, 
 swift water, bordered with a margin of white sand 
 and rounded boulders ; on the right steep, fern- 
 covered rocks overhung with trees, and a high hill ; 
 on the left a bank of brushwood with tall pines, and 
 a cottage, and the road, and behind the pool rocks, 
 trees, and distant hills ; in the foreground the coach 
 being driven on to a large raft, with groups of pas- 
 sengers, and a man on horseback. The raft is 
 attached to a strong wire rope slung high above 
 the stream. A wheel in a sort of pulley-block runs 
 along the rope, and the action of the stream on 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 ^31 
 
 the punt floats it across the stream, aided by the 
 vigorous propulsion and guidance of a ferryman 
 with a long sweep. 
 
 There is a marked absence in this black-birch 
 bush — as in all New Zealand woods — of flowers. 
 But in many places the musk has seeded itself, 
 as in California ; on the hills were several veronica 
 shrubs ; and by the Buller the lace-bark {Plagian- 
 thus Lyallii), not unlike a wild cherry, w'as blooming 
 profusely. Everywhere the graceful bush-lawyer, 
 a kind of creeping bramble with curved, retentive 
 thorns, hung down its long streamers of tiny, sweet 
 blackberries. 
 
 The journey from Nelson to the Lyell is little 
 known. It is quite out of the track of tourists. 
 But it is well worth seeing by travellers who can 
 trust themselves to Cassidy in spite of the“ Grecian 
 Bends!' 
 
 Between the Lyell and Christie’s Junction, where 
 the Buller falls into the Inangahua and rushes 
 down through a fine gorge to Westport, the scenery 
 gradually tames down. The united river is spanned 
 by a very fine wooden bridge, and groves of splen- 
 did kahikatea pines, with their masses of dark, 
 thick foliage, grow beside the river. By the road- 
 side was a wealth of big, ripe blackberries. From 
 here to the mining town of Reefton is a flat straight 
 drive of five and twenty miles, crossed by innu- 
 merable creeks through which the coach lurches 
 and splashes. 
 
 Reefton, as the name implies, is a gold-mining 
 station. It is built, as usual, entirely of wood, 
 and almost every other house is a hotel. We 
 preached and gave an instruction at night, and 
 
232 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 also on Monday, in the little barn-like church. 
 On Monday, as there was no coach, we had to 
 spend the day where we were, and we walked up 
 the valley to the gold-mining villages of Black’s 
 Point and Crushington. There were several bat- 
 teries for stamping the quartz, worked by large 
 water-wheels. We were accompanied by a charm- 
 ing companion, a Government surveyor, who was 
 
 at that time visiting the place. He has power to 
 give persons who have bought land from the Gov- 
 ernment a “certificate of title.” This is under 
 “ Torrens’ Act ” for the simplification of land- 
 transfer, which first came into force in New South 
 Wales. In each district there is a land-commission, 
 with a chief commissioner ; all claims are brought 
 before them, and they sell the Crown lands. The 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 233 
 
 native reserve in this island has long ago been 
 fixed, and all the remainder taken up by the 
 Crown. The land was bought from the natives 
 at about a farthing an acre. The Government is 
 now, through native land courts, giving the natives 
 legal titles to their property, so that they may sell 
 or do what they like with it. 
 
 Our Tuesday’s drive was a wet one. We started 
 early in a steady downpour, and again at mid-day 
 there was a deluge of wet. A New Zealand shower 
 comes down quite straight. It makes a direct 
 attack. Escape is impossible, and the chances of 
 effective defence are slight. At the almost-deserted 
 mining village of Ahaura, with its pretentious 
 street, a woman got on the box beside us, refusing 
 to go inside, and put up her umbrella, which 
 drenched us with a steady stream till I gave up 
 the box and retired inside. Inside was a China- 
 man, wearing a massive gold ring of his own digging, 
 weighing four pennyweights. All this district is 
 peopled by gold miners, and there is a large colony 
 of Chinamen, funny little fellows, like toy men, 
 with old, wizened faces, and wearing blue jackets 
 with gold buttons. They always work on the top, 
 and can never be persuaded to descend a shaft 
 either for gold or coal. 
 
 “No gold to-day, Tom?” said the driver to a 
 boy who handed him a bag. Every Tuesday 
 he takes the gold to the bank at Greymouth. 
 The batteries had been stopped for want of 
 water. 
 
 The driver of the coach gets five pounds a week. 
 Our last relay was a good one. The three leaders 
 were bought for twenty pounds apiece ; one of the 
 
234 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 wheelers for fourteen pounds. This is a very fair 
 price in the colony. At one of the relays I observed 
 a horse with a foot or two of rope dangling at his 
 tail. I asked what it was. “ Oh ! ” said Cassidy, 
 “ he’s a bit light behind ; we put that on to balance 
 him.” We -soon found out the meaning of the 
 riddle. The animal — who, by the way, was called 
 “ Peter ” — began to kick, and kicked over the traces. 
 The driver got down and lifted — a risky bit of 
 work — the horse’s legs back, and then knotted the 
 rope with a good pull to his tail and fastened 
 it to the bar. When Peter next gave a kick he 
 was reminded of his duty by a sharp tug behind. 
 Peter also very nearly fell as we raced downhill to 
 a bridge. At one inn we met two waggons and 
 seventeen horses. I do not know whether reliance 
 is to be given to our driver’s natural history, but 
 he assured us that both hares and pheasants in the 
 colony bred three times in the year, and that the 
 wekas suck the pheasants’ eggs. The cats, he said, 
 destroyed many pheasants. 
 
 A few miles above Grey mouth we came to a 
 narrow gorge of the Grey river. On one side is 
 Taylorville, and on the other Brunnerton. These 
 are coal-mining stations, flourishing and increasing. 
 There is a vast quantity of coal, and its proximity to 
 the seaport of Greymouth, accessible by rail and by 
 boat, renders it a very profitable industry. The 
 annual output of coal is about seventy thousand 
 tons. It has been said that this west coast alone, 
 the land of gold and coal, is worth ;^300,000,000 ; 
 which, considering that ;;f2 5,ooo,ooo of gold have 
 already been exported from this district, must be 
 a moderate computation. If it ever adopts a 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 235 
 
 special coat-of-arms, the heraldic colours ought to 
 be sable and or. 
 
 From Taylorville into Greymouth, a distance of 
 eight miles, we raced a train, and arrived just 
 behind it. As we could not reach Hokitika that 
 night, we determined to stay where we were. 
 
 Greymouth is a straggling town, lying along 
 the left bank of the river ; there is a long wharf 
 where two or three steamers are moored, and a 
 wooden pier runs out into the sea beside the 
 bar, about a mile from the town, and the long 
 waves roar on the piled broken rocks on which it 
 is built. The Chinese were keeping their New 
 Year’s festival, and crackers were snapping about 
 the streets, as if it had been Guy Fawkes’ Day. 
 
236 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Early next day we left in a tramcar drawn by 
 one horse, and took the mails with us. The rails 
 are wooden, and are laid in a narrow cutting 
 through the bush. The effect is that of a pro- 
 longed avenue, extending fourteen miles. How 
 little her Majesty knows how her mails are de- 
 livered ! The letters are chucked out by the 
 driver as he goes along ; sometimes they are flung 
 quite into the bush, where there is not even a post 
 with the magic V.R. to protect them. In one 
 place a retriever ran down to meet the tram, and 
 raced off with a newspaper in his mouth. The 
 first part of the way lies alongside the roaring 
 sea, bordered with low sand-hills overgrown with 
 grand flax. Then the line plunges into the dense 
 bush, and the ferns and trees brush the windows. 
 In one place a tree-trunk forms a fantastic arch 
 across the road. I gathered two lovely white 
 orchids in profuse blossom, hanging from the 
 same tree {Dendrobium Cwiningliamii and Earitia 
 autumnalis). The umbrella-fern grows in great 
 abundance. 
 
 The river Teremakau, broad and swift, with 
 high precipitous banks, divides the dioceses of 
 Nelson and Christchurch. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 237 
 
 Here we had a new experience in travel. We 
 flew across in a cage slung on wires, with very 
 much the same rapid swoop that a swallow makes 
 as he darts across a pool at a dancing gnat, except 
 
 that, as we skimmed away, we did not dip our 
 wings. The wires looked so slight and the cage 
 so heavy, when freighted, that it was a relief to see 
 the luggage fly across first, and to be assured that 
 
238 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 the wires can bear the tension. The flight was 
 seven hundred and fifty feet. Another tram took 
 us on through the bush to Kumara, and from 
 thence by coach, on jolting iron springs instead of 
 the usual leathern ones, we reached Hokitika, and 
 began our mission that night in the well-appointed 
 wooden church ; where the singing was led by a 
 little surpliced choir, only the second we had seen 
 since leaving England. 
 
 Hokitika is situated at the mouth of a river, 
 and there is a wharf where ships from Nelson and 
 other ports can be seen moored. Hokitika and all 
 these West Coast towns have a drear}^, deserted 
 look. The population has dwindled away. It is 
 the fate of gold-digging towns. At first there is an 
 excited rush to the newly discovered El Dorado, and 
 the place is crowded and busy ; then the golden 
 dream fades away and the volatile population 
 disappears. For a few days the weather was 
 stormy and cold, and dense masses of frowning 
 clouds brooded low upon the hills ; but the view 
 from Hokitika on a fine day is very beautiful. 
 There is a range of mountains rising up into the 
 regions of snow, clothed with bush that descends 
 into the broad plain, the river winding down to 
 the bright sea, and far away across the sea shine 
 the two snowy peaks of Mount Tasman, displaying 
 between them the sharp summit of Mount Cook, 
 Aorangi, the sky-piercer, as lofty as the Matter- 
 horn, and rolling its huge glaciers almost down to 
 the sea level. 
 
 Near the parsonage is a small church school, 
 and every morning some fifty children come to 
 the church to be taught, before going to their 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 239 
 
 board-school lessons. All honour is due to the 
 New Zealand Church — and I must add, to the 
 Roman Catholics — for maintaining their schools in 
 the face of the strong opposition presented by the 
 Government free schools, where no religion is 
 taught. 
 
 Canon Bodington’s mission lasted twelve days, 
 and included a service, attended by a crowd of 
 miners, at Rimu, five miles to the south. The 
 miners are very hearty and genial. They do not 
 make much profession of religion, but they are 
 impressible and warm-hearted, and, when they 
 are moved, are strongly in earnest. When my 
 friend left Hokitika in the early morning, one of 
 these good fellows stopped the coach a mile out 
 of the town, in order to grasp his hand and thank 
 him for the mission, and to ask his acceptance of a 
 little gold anchor made from the precious metal 
 dug by himself, and to say farewell with a hearty 
 “ God bless you, sir.” There are many Presby- 
 terians in this neighbourhood, and many Roman 
 Catholics also. I found several of the latter on 
 this coast who had ceased to attend the Roman 
 Church, perhaps because, like a lady I met in 
 Auckland, they found “too many intricacies” in it, 
 and had attended instead the English Church, but 
 were doubtful whether we recognized their Confir- 
 mation, and would admit them to the Communion. 
 
 A very touching story of his life was told by 
 one miner, who was a Swede. When he was 
 young he had a great desire to be a missionary in 
 India, and had studied with this intention. A 
 Swedish bishop, however, dissuaded him from it, 
 judging him, no doubt, unfitted in some way for 
 
240 
 
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 the work. He abandoned the idea and became a 
 sailor. In England he joined the Church, and was 
 confirmed. Then he emigrated to New Zealand, 
 and became an avowed atheist. But, even while 
 professing to be an atheist, he used to pray that 
 if there was a God he might find Him. One 
 night, by accident, he took up the Bible instead of 
 a Shakspeare. Finding out what it was, he flung 
 it down in disgust, and then, a minute after, idly 
 took it up, and it opened at the story of the 
 Prodigal Son. He read the parable through with 
 a new and a deeper interest. That old story won 
 him, as it has won so many, from his unbelief and 
 indifference ; and from that day his Bible became 
 his constant companion. 
 
 Another pathetic story of a different nature was 
 told me. A “ loafer ” is a man who gets his loaf 
 given him instead of working for it. And Old 
 Billy is a loafer. He is well known, and a general 
 favourite. He was once a rich man, and had 
 .^^1300 in the bank. He was always generous and 
 ready to help others in distress so long as he 
 had the means. But on one unlucky day he 
 backed a bill for a man, who is now a successful 
 merchant, and lost all he had. It was too late to 
 begin life again, and Billy was getting old ; so he 
 said that, as he’d done his best for his mates while 
 he had “ the sugar,” he must now look to his mates 
 to keep him. Once he’d helped the world, now 
 the world must help him. And his kind-hearted 
 friends acknowledge the justice of the case, and 
 say Old Billy is in his right ; and he never lacks 
 a bit of something when they’ve got it to give. 
 He was in the navy during the Crimean War, and 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 241 
 
 has his medals to show. But he never had a 
 home. All he can remember is being on board ship. 
 Whenever the ship was going back to port, all the 
 sailors were talking of going home, and whom 
 they should see, and what they would do. But 
 there was nobody waiting for Billy ; he had no 
 place to go to but the lodging-house. And while 
 his mates were buying little presents for “ the old 
 woman,” or the younkers, or Peggy, or Sue, Billy 
 might buy, but it would only be for his own room 
 or the museum. “ I used to cry by myself,” says 
 Old Billy, “ many a time.” And, even if he mixes 
 now and then, as jolly old tars are uont to do, his 
 glass of grog stronger than he ought, let us pray 
 that the generous and lonely Old Billy may have 
 his frustrated longings satisfied, and find a home 
 at last. 
 
 Amongst these men I found odd instances of 
 refinement. One man’s favourite book for reading, 
 I remember, was “ Ecce Homo ; ” another treasured 
 an exquisite miniature portrait of Oliver Cromwell, 
 for which he had refused a hundred guineas. 
 These were genuine working-men. But it is not 
 uncommon to find men born in higher station and 
 educated at the Universities, who have adopted 
 from choice or from necessity the toil of labourers. 
 
 In Tasmania a man who made his living by 
 sinking wells, had in his wharh a little library 
 of classical books and English poets, and a selec- 
 tion of English novels. After a hard day’s work 
 he used to come home and ‘‘ have a wash up,” and 
 then enjoy thoroughly a quiet evening, reading 
 Cicero’s letters to Atticus, or the .dEdipus Colonaeus, 
 or, if the thought of his daily work inclined him 
 
 R 
 
242 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 in that direction, the musical lines of the Roman 
 Tennyson, “ O fons Bandusia; splendidior vitro.” 
 
 Another Latin scholar was driving a bullock- 
 team for a farmer in the great Canterbury plains. 
 And the “ Boots ” in a hotel, where we alighted 
 from the coach, was an Oxford graduate. Whether 
 the unfailing polish of the city of many spires 
 imparted an extra “ shine ” to our shoes, I cannot 
 now say ; but there is no doubt that gentlemen 
 when they come out stand the rough life better 
 than any others, and work splendidly. So we 
 were told by those who know. There are, how- 
 ever, two different and opposite ideals of colonial 
 life. Some men well born and well educated take 
 up the roughest work and live a downright hard 
 life, and yet preserve all their culture and refine- 
 ment ; others, in their excessive anxiety to be 
 radically colonial, live always in picnic, and, even 
 when their fortunes are made, stable their men 
 like horses and treat their horses like pigs. 
 
 Five miles north of Hokitika is the small Maori 
 settlement of Arahura, on a river of the same 
 name. They have a little church and a native 
 reader. On Easter Day all the communicants 
 walked into Hokitika for the early Communion. 
 They arrived an hour too soon, and squatted on 
 the grass in the churchyard, women and all, 
 smoking, till the bell rang and the doors opened. 
 Maoris are extremely sensitive. If they are told, 
 for instance, that they have been bewitched, they 
 give up all hopes of life, and say that they do not 
 expect to live three days ; and at the appointed 
 hour they die of imagination. The chief of Ara- 
 hura not long ago was brought before a court of 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 243 
 
 inquiry about some land business. The chief had 
 committed some small act of dishonesty. A 
 colonist would have pleaded not guilty and 
 brazened the matter out. But the Maori was 
 of a different mood. He felt so guilty, and was 
 so deeply ashamed of himself, that his mind 
 was affected, and in his misery and despair he 
 hanged himself in the native meeting-hall. 
 
 After helping in the mission at Hokitika for 
 three nights I went back on the Greymouth road 
 to conduct missions at Stafford, Waimea, and 
 Kumara. These three places, together with a 
 wide reach of country, are worked as one parish, 
 although Stafford and Kumara are ten miles apart; 
 but for seven months there had been no clergyman 
 there at all. During the whole of that time the 
 good schoolmaster, a licensed reader, took the 
 services at all the places, driving the ten miles 
 every Sunday night to Kumara to read the service 
 and a printed sermon, and then, with his Monday’s 
 work before him, driving home ten miles, some- 
 times in a storm of rain and wind. When the 
 vestry at Kumara sent him a present of £ 10 , 
 he thanked them courteously and returned the 
 gift, saying that he was glad he had been able to 
 do something for the Church. Where the Church 
 has such generous and devoted laymen as this 
 she need fear nothing, so long as she is faithful to 
 herself and to her opportunities. The mission at 
 Stafford lasted four days, and in spite of the 
 drenching rains it was well attended, chiefly by 
 men, some of whom walked four or five miles 
 through the dripping bush ; and at the last service, 
 when they had all gone out, they returned and 
 
244 
 
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 made a little speech of thanks, asking me to 
 thank the bishop for letting them share in the 
 mission ; and, as a result of the mission, they 
 instituted a weekly Bible-class and prayer-meeting 
 among themselves. Every morning about a dozen 
 boys and girls, who formed the choir, came spon- 
 taneously, as a matter of course, to the early 
 Communion, and sang (“ Hymns Ancient and 
 Modern” is the national hymn-book of New 
 Zealand) “ I am not worthy,” and “Jesu, gentlest 
 Saviour,” and the Kyrie. The fervour, devotion, 
 and simplicity of this little, unpretending choir was 
 delightful. 
 
 Stafford was once named Peg-leg, after the first 
 inhabitant, who, through an accident, was deficient 
 in his powers of locomotion. At last the Govern- 
 ment surveyor told this person, whose wooden 
 limb was on the high-road to geographical fame, 
 that the name of the settlement really would not 
 do in a serious map and a grave Government 
 report, and that it must be altered, and he gave 
 Peg-leg his choice. So Peg-leg called it Stafford, 
 after the name of his old English county. In the 
 height of the gold-fever this was an important 
 town. I am afraid to repeat the number of thou- 
 sands who were said to inhabit it in the age of 
 gold. Now there are only a few hundred. Some 
 live in the town, which is one irregular street up 
 and down hill, lying beside a stream in a valley, 
 with low, wooded hills on either side. Others live 
 in scattered groups in the bush, and, coming from 
 all parts of the globe, impart their nationality 
 to the names of their residences. One place is 
 called Scandinavian Hill; another, German Gully ; 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 245 
 
 and another, Greeks. One of the churchwardens 
 was a Boer from the Cape ; and in the street of 
 Waimea you hear nothing spoken but Italian, and 
 I baptized a black-eyed baby in the church by the 
 names of Victor Menotti. 
 
 I stayed with the excellent and hospitable 
 schoolmaster. His house stands on a goose-green, 
 and so does the church. Ten geese and a whole 
 rout of ducks and fowls lived at the head of my 
 bed, divided from me, however, by an inch plank, 
 and in the very early morning, when they shook 
 ofif their delicious dreams of gobbling black slugs 
 and awoke panting for water, their discordant 
 cries — that peculiar scream, a despairing accele- 
 rando and diminuendo, of a duck, when it can’t 
 get its own way — was an effectual though uncertain 
 alarum. However, I ate one of them on Sunday, 
 and I would gladly have eaten one every day. 
 After eating my duck I drove to Waimea, also 
 called Goldsborough, for an afternoon service. 
 
 At Stafford I made the acquaintance of a 
 delightful person who came from my own 
 county — a Mrs. Bramhall, from Glossop, in Derby- 
 shire, a thoroughly good-natured, old-fashioned, 
 comfortable person, the wife of a gold-digger 
 at Stafford, and one of what we should call in 
 Derbyshire the “ regular old standards ” of the 
 place. She was gifted with a beautiful voice and 
 a retentive memory, and long before there was any 
 service at Peg-leg, she used on Sunday nights to 
 sing the old church hymns she loved so well. 
 Men used to “roll up” (the colonial expression 
 does not imply insobriety) to the well-known 
 wooden cottage among the kahikatea pines till 
 
246 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 the place was so full that they could not move ; 
 they looked in at the doorway and crowded round 
 the windows, and sat on the hillside about the 
 house ; and silent tears fell down those rough 
 weather-beaten faces as they listened to “ When 
 I survey,” or “ There is a land of pure delight,” or 
 “ Rock of ages.” It reminded them of home. 
 
 This lady was, and is, a regular pillar of the 
 Church. When first a service was begun, her 
 husband dissuaded her from going ; “Nobody goes 
 to church,” he said. “ If nobody goes to church,” 
 she replied, “ I’m going back to Glossop. I didn’t 
 come out here with you to be a heathen.” 
 
 When first they came out they settled on Piper’s 
 Flat, a little distance on the Hokitika road. They 
 were finding gold all round, but Bramhall and 
 his mates, although their claim was in the very 
 middle of the rest, could find nothing. They sunk 
 four or five times, but to no purpose. The mine 
 proved a “duffer.” Then they set up a store. 
 The goods were brought on a long string of pack- 
 horses, led in single file along the track through 
 the bush. When all the claims on Piper’s Flat 
 had been worked out, and their claim might, no 
 doubt, have been “jumped” by somebody else — 
 that is, their right to the claim might have lapsed 
 through neglect — one day at dinner Bramhall said, 
 “Let’s have another try at the old duffer.” So 
 they got to work, and for three days they were 
 bailing out the water ; but nothing turned up, and 
 his mates called to Bramhall to come out. “ Give 
 me half an hour,” he said ; “ the dirt’s changing.” 
 But no ; they said it was no good, and made him 
 leave. Then at dinner they began talking, and 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 247 
 
 determined to have a last try in the afternoon. 
 They sent up a pan of dirt, and took it down to 
 the house and began to wash it. They didn’t 
 say much, but began to talk in a low tone. 
 Then they went back to the claim. “ Send us up 
 another bucketful of that dirt,” they said. They 
 took it to the house and washed it. That week 
 every man of the party made .^40. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 Kumara is a most interesting place. It is three 
 hundred feet above the sea, which is just visible on 
 the horizon. The town, which was in its first 
 decade, consists of two long streets at right angles, 
 Dillman’s Town, about a mile off, and “The Larri- 
 kins,” half a mile further. Dillman’s Town, a long, 
 low, irregular line of grey houses intermingled with 
 lofty pines, is built on the crest of a ridge, which 
 is covered with exquisite bush, where the climbing 
 rata {^Metrosideros yficrfifirr),. perhaps the most lovely 
 variety, displays its spikes of gorgeous bloom. 
 The ridge slopes sharply down to the wide, shingly 
 Teremakau, which is deep green, and winds among 
 wooded hills and groves of stately kahikatea, rimu, 
 and tree-fern. Above the houses and the ridge are 
 ranges of grand blue mountains, and between the 
 mountains is a glistening line of alpine snow. In 
 the immediate foreground the boulders are covered 
 with a blood-red lichen. The scenery reminds one 
 of Corsica, and is not unlike the country between 
 Calvi and Corte or between Evisa and Vico. Kumara 
 is the best gold-mining station in the South Island, 
 
ROUND THE ROUND WORLD. 
 
 249 
 
 as the Thames is in the North. But the manner 
 of obtaining the gold is entirely different. At the 
 Thames it is found in the rock, and crushed out. 
 At Kumara it is found in the earth, and washed 
 out. At the Thames the gold is dug from its 
 original birth-place ; at Kumara it is found after 
 passing through a process of change in Nature’s 
 laboratory. Here Nature has already done the 
 crushing. The ridge at Kumara may be the mo- 
 raine of an ancient glacier. The quartz has been 
 pounded and ground down by the march of the 
 ice, and deposited in the sloping terrace of earth 
 and black sand. Water is the most necessary 
 thing for the west coast miners. It is what they 
 long for most, and the want of it is their chief 
 complaint. Two pelting days a week they require 
 to make them happy, and while the traveller is 
 dripping from what he considers a prolonged and 
 heavy downpour, the miners look anxiously at the 
 sky and complain that it is so sadly dry. To 
 supply the miners with water, the Government has 
 brought water down from the hills in a water-race, 
 rivalling the aqueducts of the Roman Campagna, 
 at a cost of £}y,ooo, and tunnelled a “ sludge- 
 channel,” at a cost of £ 17,000, through the Kumara 
 ridge to carry off the water, after it has been used, 
 and the debris that it hustles along in its furious 
 course, down to the Teremakau river. Besides the 
 Government race, there is another built by a private 
 speculator, and these wooden aqueducts and the 
 smaller ones belonging to the various claims, 
 crossing and recrossing in every direction on lofty 
 scaffolding, make up a bit of intricate and busy 
 scenery unlike anything else. But the miners have 
 
250 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 to pay for their water, and they pay for it by the 
 “head.” A head of water is a volume twenty 
 inches wide by two deep, and they pay £2 loj-. 
 per head. Each claim has the water — six or seven 
 heads — for three hours every day. The Kumara 
 Times (for the place has a good daily journal) was 
 anxiously proving that the Government obtained a 
 return of six per cent, upon its outlay. At Stafford, 
 where the gold is nearer the surface, a miner may 
 claim forty square feet ; at Kumara he may claim 
 a hundred. For this he has to pay the Govern- 
 ment annually £l for a “ miner’s right.” He also 
 has to pay 3^. 6 d. for a dam, for a head-race, and 
 for a tail-race, and a duty of 2s. per ounce for the 
 gold, for which (after paying duty) he obtains 
 £}, i6j. per ounce. 
 
 It is very interesting to watch the men at work. 
 The scene of their labours is like a large earthen 
 quarry with high banks. The water is conducted 
 from the Government race through a private race to 
 their diggings, and then with terrific force discharged 
 (I suppose it would be too bold to say, although it 
 exactly expresses it, that the water was fired) 
 through a “ giant nozzle ” like a cannon at the 
 earthen sides of the quarry. The water bangs 
 against the cliff, pours down the kind of moraine 
 that is formed at* the base, and washes in a foam- 
 ing torrent everything but the big boulders down 
 the channel of wood, called the tail-race, on the 
 top of which is planted the giant nozzle. One man 
 stands by the nozzle to aim it ; two or three others, 
 clothed in sou’wester, mackintosh, and fisherman’s 
 long boots, and armed with a crooked pitchfork, 
 called a “ drag,” walk about in the torrent and 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 251 
 
 rake away the boulders to give the water and 
 auriferous sand free passage into the tail-race, 
 where the precious burden may be deposited. 
 Two others are a mile away, at the bottom of the 
 sludge-channel, raking a free passage for the water 
 to escape into the river. The manner of catching 
 the gold is simple. The bottom of the tail-race is 
 paved with blocks of stone, or sometimes wood, 
 not too close, but leaving gaps between, and the 
 gold, being heavier than the sand, drops in the 
 chinks between. Every seven weeks the men take 
 up the blocks for some fifty yards, and turn on the 
 water to wash away the sand. Then they go 
 along the race (it must be an exciting moment) 
 and pick up the yellow lumps that they see lying 
 about or sticking up in the sand. I watched the 
 process one day, and the men had got the 
 bottom of a sugar-basin filled with lumps the size 
 of dice or nuts. Very beautiful it looked. I quite 
 understand the fascination and witchery of this 
 lovely queen of metals. And I think St. Lawrence 
 (as reported by Prudentius) would not have spoken 
 so contemptuously of the base and grovelling origin 
 of gold, if he had seen the churchwarden of Kumara 
 washing up and panning out his gold under the 
 open splendour of a New Zealand February sky. 
 
 When the nuggets are secured, the men take 
 “ the cream ” of the gold from the race and put it 
 in a pan. They pour water on it, and then wash 
 it round and round with a circular motion so as to 
 float the sand to the top, and skim it away into 
 another vessel. The gold is not mere dust. It 
 lies in lumps and flakes. When it has been washed 
 enough, a magnet is applied to it and to what 
 
252 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 remains of the black sand, magnetic oxide of iron ; 
 and the square, coarse granules cling and hang 
 from the magnet like a swarm of bees from a 
 bough. All but the cream of the gold is washed 
 by water over a flannel cascade till the flannel 
 retaining the deposited metal shines like cloth of 
 gold. When the gold is quite dry it is blown, and 
 whatever refuse there may be from the various 
 processes is mixed with quicksilver, which captures 
 the minute particles. There are generally three 
 or four partners to each claim, and they employ 
 labourers at a week. The partners, of course, 
 divide the profits. One man told me that he and 
 his partners got about two hundred and twenty 
 ounces at one wash up, or £i6o each partner ; on 
 another occasion they got ;^^I2 5 each. On some 
 claims they wash the “ tailings” just before Christ- 
 mas, and consider the profit as pocket money. 
 This miner strongly expressed his preference for 
 life in the colonies, and contrasted the lot of a 
 working-man obtaining £^ a week, and buying 
 meat at 4J. a pound, with the lot of an English 
 labourer receiving 12s. or 15J. a week, and having 
 to pay lod. or ii<^. a pound for meat. Many say 
 the same. A woman remarked to me, “ You seem 
 more free here. You can go where you like in the 
 bush. At home, if a man stopped to look at a 
 field, the farmer said, ‘ What’s that man doing 
 there ? Is he looking after the game ? ’ ” 
 
 Gold is also obtained from the sea-shore. A 
 party of men once astonished the bank by bringing 
 in four hundredweight (so it was said) of gold, 
 which they had washed out near Greymouth. 
 
 The scene on the slope of the ridge below 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 ^53 
 
 Dillman’s Town is extraordinary. The various 
 tail-races and the Government sludge are continu- 
 ally pouring down stones and boulders, and these, 
 like a huge, desolating avalanche, have overwhelmed 
 the valley, buried the trees up to their very summit, 
 and forced the Teremakau to eat out the opposite 
 bank and entirely alter its course. The sludge 
 foams down in great fury. Three men have fallen 
 into it. One was found buried under the stones 
 at the foot, with his boots just sticking out over 
 the top of the water. The other two men were 
 almost unhurt. 
 
 There are some places always connected in my 
 mind with tunes. Stafford is one of them. It is 
 associated with Sankey’s tune for “ There is a 
 fountain.” I have only to hum the tune, and all 
 the feeling of the place and the tune comes back 
 to me. Kumara is another. I always think of it 
 in connection with the martial tune (really an 
 adaptation of the Marseillaise) of “ Faith of our 
 fathers.” There was a large and very hearty choir 
 of little people, and every night we sang this hymn 
 together — 
 
 “ And by the truth that comes from God, 
 
 O then indeed we shall be free,” 
 
 as we stood at the corner of the street half an hour 
 before the evening service. I found two banners 
 with Easter texts on them. Two boys carried 
 these. I went down in my surplice, bell in hand, 
 followed by the choir, and, after one hymn, I spoke 
 for twenty minutes or more. It was a picturesque 
 sight to see them all — a grand crowd of men from 
 all parts of the world, Chinamen and all — standing 
 there attentive and respectful. Kumara is reputed 
 
254 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 to be a very wicked place, and I half expected a 
 row ; but the men were as good — and better — 
 than their own gold. A man once tried to inter- 
 rupt by making derisive remarks, but this tentative 
 mockery met with no response, and the man 
 slunk back to the public-house — I beg pardon, the 
 hotel. All these houses are conspicuously called 
 hotels, and at Reefton, Hokitika, Kumara, Stafford, 
 and Goldsborough, the street appears to be com- 
 posed of them. Perhaps — to be accurate — for a 
 considerable distance every third house is a hotel. 
 This is one aspect of “ local option,” which is 
 universally the law in New Zealand. You get 
 extremes. At Auckland there are very few. On 
 the west coast there is nothing else. All depends 
 on majorities, which, in turn, depend on temper- 
 ance societies. Sir Wilfrid Lawson would be 
 astonished at the result of his darling legislation. 
 
 From our corner we marched to church, singing 
 “ Daily, daily.” I also preached every midday 
 with “ bell and book ” in the street at Dillman’s 
 Town. 
 
 That west coast, with its grand mountains over- 
 arched with glorious blue, its glittering snows, 
 and clear green streams, and deep woods with 
 endless ferns and gorgeous rata, and the hearty, 
 hospitable, warm-hearted miners, will always re- 
 main with me a happy memory. 
 
 I can well understand the raptures of most 
 travellers who make the famous coach journey 
 from Christchurch to the west coast. They de- 
 scribe it as grander than anything in the Alps, 
 the Carpathians, or the Himalayas. This is cer- 
 tainly an exaggeration. The mountains that over- 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 255 
 
 hang the road are not more than eight thousand 
 feet high, and it is only now and then that a real 
 glacier is seen straggling from the precipices. 
 What takes people by surprise is the sudden con- 
 trast between the eastern and western sides of the 
 great Alpine range. The voyager from England 
 lands at Christchurch, which is English to the 
 backbone. He traverses the huge plain to Spring- 
 field in a railway carriage, and then for a day and 
 a half winds in and out, up and down, among the 
 wild and heaving desolations, for miles and miles 
 treeless and barren and solitary, till he arrives at 
 the summit of the Otira Gorge. Then the whole 
 scene changes. The gorge is filled with glorious 
 blossom, and the descent into the valley of the 
 Teremakau is a plunge into all the wealth of the 
 New Zealand bush, with its groves of pines and 
 avenues of tree-ferns and rich variety of ferns. 
 
 We were already familiar with the exquisite 
 beauty of the New Zealand bush in the Waite- 
 mata district, the Thames, Tauranga, Taranaki, 
 and Inangahua, as well as Westland, so that, while 
 there were continual changes of beauty, there 
 was no grand surprise. Canon Bodington arrived 
 at Kumara by the coach, and our way lay through 
 Dillman’s Town and up the valley of the Terema- 
 kau. Tree-ferns spread their broad and delicate 
 fronds in royal luxuriance, and the rare Todea 
 sjiperba is abundant. The road winds along the 
 foot of the lofty hills, wooded to the top, on the 
 left bank of the river, and between the groups of 
 white pines or black birch the broad shingly river 
 flashed silver in the hot sunlight. The woods are 
 like some glorious shrubbery that might present 
 
256 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 itself in a dream, and overhead rise the great 
 mountains, swathed in deep woods, and sometimes 
 tipped or streaked with snow. This valley gives 
 me in memory the same feeling as the upper part 
 of the Rhone Valley near the glacier, except that 
 it is infinitely more rich in wood. The quaint 
 notes of the tui and the musical octaves of the 
 bell-bird — from the lower to the upper Do — haunt 
 these delightful bowers. And the great, green 
 pigeon, with his snowy apron, dashes fluttering 
 through the evergreen foliage. Two torrents, the 
 rough and the smooth Wainini, are crossed before 
 the more formidable Taipo is reached. Here we 
 dismounted and crossed a wire bridge, so elastic 
 and unstable that it sends the traveller dancinsf 
 giddily to the opposite bank, while the lumbering 
 coach plunges through the water lower down. 
 The view up the gully down which the stream 
 rushes is quite alpine in outline, and would form 
 a good subject for a picture. The road turns sharp 
 to the right along the Otira river, which is crossed 
 at the foot of the celebrated Otira Gorge. Here 
 there is a picturesque wooden hotel, which, with 
 the ponderous coach and the groups of horses and 
 travellers, forms an interesting foreground to the 
 sort of Lauterbrunnen view of the narrow valley 
 behind, steeply enclosed by wooded mountains, 
 rocks, and snow. 
 
 The road up the gorge is a work of skill and 
 daring. It winds in and out in sharp zigzags 
 round the cliffs, dripping with melted snows and 
 hung with hymenophylbim ; built up sometimes 
 on heavy timber, sometimes crossing the leaping 
 water on a bridge, and at last sweeping to the 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 257 
 
 summit in wide curves through dense shrubberies, 
 all ablaze with the dazzling blossom of the rata 
 {Metrosideros lucidd). A few weeks earlier, the 
 summit of the pass — a green Alp three thousand 
 feet above the sea-level — is brilliant with masses 
 of a giant white ranunculus {R. Lyallii), and also the 
 great cotton-plant daisy, with flowers sometimes 
 more than two feet high (Cdmisia Monroi). We 
 could find no flowers of the ranunculus, only the 
 large, undivided, circular leaves as round as wine 
 bowls, clear green and prominently veined. De- 
 scending the pass on the other side, we saw a pair 
 of kea parrots, very strong on the wing, wheeling 
 round the crags like ravens. Certainly they had 
 a right — if any — to become birds of prey, when 
 the prey came within reach. 
 
 It was dark before we reached the Bealey, or 
 Glacier Hotel, where we were to spend the night. 
 For a mile or two we drove in the dusk down 
 the broad, shingly bed of the Bealey river. It is 
 a weird, desolate place, eminently suited for a 
 tragedy. If there were any wolves in New Zea- 
 land, they would certainly rush out here upon the 
 coach and pull down the leaders, as they stumbled 
 and splashed across the creeks and pools, and 
 scrambled along through the water-worn boulders. 
 We were a load of twenty — thirteen on the top ; 
 and we remarked what a curious sight it would 
 be to our friends in England if they could see us 
 clinging to the top of this top-heavy coach, in the 
 bed of a mile-wide river, with no pretence at a 
 road, the sun gone down behind the mountains, 
 and the deep shadows merging into night. Ahead 
 of us, behind the Glacier Hotel, the hillside was 
 
238 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 strangely flickering with bush-fires. At length we 
 emerged on the shore of the wide, waste Waima- 
 kariri river that flows from the glaciers and snows 
 of Mount Harman and Mount Rolleston, dimly 
 gleaming far off in the uncertain light, tears 
 a way through the Alps into the Canterbury 
 plains, and at last sweeps past Kaiapoi into Pe- 
 gasus Bay. It is a grand, wild river, and forms 
 a glittering, fascinating feature of the view from 
 the Port Hills between Christchurch and Lyttelton. 
 The shingly torrents are very dangerous. “New- 
 chums” often despise them, but old colonists well 
 know the danger, and cross with caution. The 
 beds of these east coast streams, the Hurunui, 
 the Waimakariri, the Rakaia, the Ashburton, the 
 Rangitata, and the Waitaki, are very broad and 
 swift,and the streams constantly change their course 
 with such rapid caprice that previous knowledge of 
 fords is of little use. A story is told of a wag- 
 goner who encamped for the night on the bank 
 of the swirling, ice-cold Waimakariri, with his big 
 waggon loaded with great, square bales of wool 
 to be shipped at Lyttelton, and his team of eight 
 or ten horses, and muttered to himself, as he 
 looked upon the swift stream rushing capriciously 
 through its mile-wide bed of sand and shingle, 
 “ Whativer i’ the warld shall I do to git over yon 
 blooming river ? ” In the morning, when the 
 waggoner awoke, the Waimakariri was behind 
 him. This story is ideal, and is arranged so as 
 to leave on the mind a vivid impression of the 
 fickle changeability of these rapid and wandering 
 waters. But it is quite true that at Waimate, after 
 long and anxious importunity on the part of some 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 259 
 
 of the inhabitants, a bridge was at length built 
 across the stream, and the very night after it was 
 completed the stream altered its course, ceased to 
 flow at all beneath the bridge, and ran entirely 
 on the town side of it, and quite cut off the bridge 
 from the approaching road. The bridge stood for 
 some time, and at last was pulled down as abso- 
 lutely useless. It had never been used. No foot 
 had ever crossed it. 
 
 The Waimakariri was shrunk to a small stream 
 as we plunged through it in the dark, Davis cheerily 
 singing, “ One more river to cross,” as he flicked 
 at the off leader in an encouraging and confiden- 
 tial manner. The Glacier Hotel, a wooden, one- 
 storied building, with two large rooms and a 
 number of small cubicles divided by thin parti- 
 tions, was overcrowded with passengers going east 
 and west ; the loud talking w'ent on till a late 
 hour, and began again at four in the morning, 
 when the travellers bound for the west coast rose 
 and departed. It was not long before we followed 
 their example, and started in the opposite direction 
 under the guidance of Cassidy, the owner of the 
 coach. The day was wet and cloudy, and the 
 snowy sources of the river were hidden from our 
 view. The road winds alongside the overhanging 
 bank of the river, at some height above it. The 
 scenery during the whole day was grand but 
 desolate. Nothing could be finer than the bold 
 outline and grouping of the mountains, with rivers 
 and lakes at their feet andcastled rocks on their slop- 
 ing sides; but not a tree, hardly a shrub, relieved the 
 dull monotony of the burnt grass. Here we made 
 the acquaintance of the “ wild Irishman,” and re- 
 
26 o 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD. 
 
 newed our acquaintance with the “wild Spaniard.” 
 These are not roving Fenians or guerilla soldiers, 
 but stationary plants that hold their own and only 
 act on the defensive. The “ Irishman ” is a shrub 
 beset with the most fearful thorns. It is difficult 
 to see what this uninviting plant possesses which it 
 needs so ferociously to defend. The “ Spaniard ” 
 is more of the nature of a thistle, and its leaves 
 are like bayonets, sometimes hooked at the end 
 with cruel and merciless ingenuity. But, beside 
 these unattractive children of Ishmael, we found 
 on Porter’s Pass a grand white gentian in abun- 
 dance. This pass, three thousand feet above the 
 sea-level, is the last ridge which is crossed before 
 the wide sweeping waste of the Canterbury plains 
 bursts upon the view. 
 
 Springfield is the terminus of the railway ; and 
 a slow journey of three hours brought us in the 
 dark to the city of Christchurch, where we were met 
 by some of the clergy and escorted to our tem- 
 porary lodgings in Armagh Street. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 There is a natural inclination to suppose that, 
 because the three islands are included under the 
 single name of New Zealand, they must be all alike. 
 But they are widely different. They might, so far 
 as physical geography is concerned, be called dif- 
 ferent countries, in the same sense as England is 
 a different country from Spain. The latitude they 
 cover is surprising. Although in size they are 
 rather less than Great Britain and Ireland, yet the 
 extremes are as far apart as Newcastle and 
 Naples. There is, of course, a variety of tem- 
 perature. Auckland is semi-tropical, while the 
 climate of Dunedin is not unlike the climate of 
 he Isle of Wight. But the climate of New Zealand 
 is everywhere variable. When Mr. Augustus Sala, 
 who visited the colony during our stay, was asked 
 
 I 
 
262 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 how he liked the climate of New Zealand, he in- 
 quired, “ Which ? ” And the Americans say there 
 is no climate, but only samples. Westland is wet, 
 and Canterbury is dry. The rainfall at Hokitika is 
 almost five times as great as it is at Christchurch. 
 
 Again, the North Island is volcanic, the South 
 Island is alpine. The scenery is quite different. It 
 differs as much as the scenery of Kent from that of 
 the canton of Berne. And the people are different. 
 The North Island is still Maori-land, and contains 
 some forty thousand natives, tattooed and inde- 
 pendent. The South Island is as British as Britain, 
 and the thinly scattered fifteen hundred Maoris are 
 ordinary Christian villagers. They have, no doubt, 
 a few little superstitions about sorcery, romantic 
 pets with which they have found it hard to part, 
 but not more, perhaps, than the Derbyshire pea- 
 sant, who cures his little child of the whooping- 
 cough by passing it three times under a briar that 
 has layered itself, chanting all the time — 
 
 “Under the brere. 
 
 Under the brere ; 
 
 We come to leave the king cough here ; ” 
 
 and, when this fails, finds a second and a sove- 
 reign remedy in stealing a bit of bread-and-butter 
 from a woman who has married a husband bearing 
 the same surname as herself, and feeds the inno- 
 cent with the fruit of his crafty deed. 
 
 A good impression of the general features of the 
 country is obtained from the broken, craggy ridge 
 of the Port Hills, which separate the capital 
 city of Canterbury from its sequestered port of 
 Lyttelton. The broken foreground of sloping moor 
 and meadow, where sheep are grazing on the rough 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 263 
 
 tussocky grass, or being driven within an iron- 
 railed fold by the professional bark of the collie 
 and the shout of the real Scotch shepherd, dips 
 down with many curves and hollows, interrupted 
 by crags and boulders of purple, black, and red 
 volcanic stone, to the parks and shrubberies and 
 white country houses, with green verandahs, of the 
 old gentry of the new world. From the foot of 
 these bleak hills the prodigious and fertile plains, 
 intersected by the broad sweep of the Waima- 
 kariri flashing like silver, and the cool, placid 
 stillness of the sleepy Avon, stretch north and 
 south and west, planted with English and Australian 
 timber, and dotted with homesteads and villages. 
 At the right is the grand, yellow curve of Pegasus 
 Bay, fringed with lines of white foam ; and on the 
 left is the faint streak of Ellesmere Salt Lake, the 
 haunt of duck and black swan, and Canterbury 
 Bight, of which it is an inlet. And right across 
 the whole of the western horizon, in one lofty 
 wall, the giant range of glittering Alps, robed in 
 winter almost to the foot in a spotless sheet of 
 snow, reaches in a grand perspective more than 
 two hundred miles, from the triple peak of the 
 Kaikouras — the sleepless “Lookers-on ” that watch 
 the great steamers, the Rimutaka, the Aorangi, 
 or their own namesake rushing northward to Wel- 
 lington or Auckland, as they watched a century ago 
 the white sails of the Resolution bearing their great 
 discoverer. Captain Cook, who first gave them their 
 name — to Mount Peel and the faint, ghostly peaks 
 “fringing the southern sky” nearTimaru, satellites 
 of the giant Aorangi. In the centre of the land- 
 scape is the city of Christchurch, mapped around 
 
264 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 the lofty cathedral spire and pleasantly shaded by 
 trees. The view is really not unlike Milan and 
 the plains of Lombardy, with the glorious pano- 
 rama of the Alps from the Bernina Mountains to 
 the Great St. Bernard. 
 
 But the town of Christchurch itself is not Italian. 
 It is English and Cantabrigian. It is very different 
 from what it was some forty years ago, when the 
 “ Canterbury Pilgrims ” first arrived. Then it was 
 a treeless plain diversified with flax swamps and 
 an occasional dracaena. Now it is a city of thirty 
 thousand inhabitants, with broad, smooth streets, 
 fine public buildings, well-timbered parks, exten- 
 sive gardens, railway stations, manufactories, and 
 well-furnished shops. The youth of Christchurch 
 has really never seen New Zealand ; it has only 
 seen England at the Antipodes. The boys and 
 girls, unless they have happened to observe the 
 Western Alps, might have been living at Cam- 
 bridge all their lives. 
 
 It is well known that the city is an English 
 Church colony, as Dunedin was a Scotch Presby- 
 terian colony. It is sometimes said that the 
 colonists did not realize their ideal. Perhaps not. 
 But they certainly contrived to produce in the 
 features of the country, of the architecture, and 
 of society a remarkable likeness to an English 
 university town, and, in particular, to Cambridge. 
 There is the sluggish river, overhung, almost 
 buried in places, by the weeping willows, and well 
 stocked with lazy brown trout. There are boat- 
 houses like Searle’s, and boats and canoes on the 
 water ; there are avenues of lime and sycamore, 
 parks planted with elm and oak, beech and birch ; 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 265 
 
 there are botanical gardens and a museum, and 
 handsome university buildings, and green shaven 
 lawns, and lecturers and undergraduates in cap 
 and gown, and studious boys conning their morn- 
 ing lessons as they shuffle their feet through the 
 fallen leaves beneath the long rows of sycamores 
 on their way to college. There is one point of 
 unlikeness. The students in cap and gown that 
 troop out of the lecture-rooms at dinner-time are 
 not all men. Half of them are young ladies. You 
 expect at every moment to see “ The Princess ” 
 herself. 
 
 The town is distinctly ecclesiastical. It is laid 
 out around the cathedral as a centre. The streets 
 all bear the names of bishoprics. From east to 
 west they are named after home bishoprics, as 
 Durham, Armagh, Gloucester ; from north to south 
 they take their titles from colonial sees, as Colombo, 
 Montreal, and Antigua. The cathedral itself is a 
 very fine building, capable of comfortably seating 
 a thousand persons, and it is often quite full. The 
 architect was Sir Gilbert Scott. The tower, which’ 
 contains a peal of bells, is semi-detached and is 
 surmounted by a lofty spire. It is one of the very 
 few churches in the colony which are built of 
 stone. The east end is not completed. The founda- 
 tions are laid, but the walls are only a few feet 
 above the ground. There is a screen ; a raised 
 chancel, with an organ, and stalls for the dean 
 and canons and choir ; a throne for the bishop, 
 where the pastoral staff and also the primatial 
 cross are planted ; and, approached by another set 
 of steps, a dignified and richly furnished altar. 
 
 The font was given by the late Dean of West- 
 
266 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 minster, in memory of his brother, Captain Owen 
 Stanley, who, in swift obedience to the bidding of 
 Governor Hobson at Auckland, raced in a gun- 
 boat to Akaroa, and planted the British flag at 
 Akaroa urrder the nose of the French, who missed 
 the possession of the colony by an hour or two. 
 
 The leader of the French immigrants, such is 
 the peculiar irony of circumstance, was a Monsieur 
 L’Anglois. He was disgusted to find, on landing 
 in Banks’ Peninsula, that he was no better than his 
 name. While Commodore Lavaud was sipping the 
 governor’s claret, the young English lieutenant 
 was crowding on all sail to reach Akaroa in time 
 to snatch the South Island for the British crown, 
 before it was grasped by the leisurely emissary of 
 Louis Philippe. A few lines of poetry, written by 
 the dean and sculptured on the font, recall the 
 exploit. 
 
 There is daily choral service morning and even- 
 ing, with an anthem, as in an English cathedral. 
 There is an excellent choir-school and a carefully 
 trained choir, robed in surplices and violet cassocks. 
 The singing is admirable, and the quiet reverence of 
 the choristers irreproachable. It would be difficult 
 to find anywhere a better rendering of the daily 
 service. I think I never attended a more devout 
 and affecting act of worship than the afternoon 
 service held in this cathedral on Good Friday. It 
 was the “ Three Hours’ ” service, and began, as usual, 
 at noon. The organ was silent, and the choir 
 sang “ The Reproaches ” with great feeling. There 
 is no instrument so perfect and so moving as the 
 human voice. The commonest glee, well sung, 
 without accompaniment, is always delightful. And 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 267 
 
 how thrilling and majestic is the sonorous litur- 
 gical chant of the Russian Church ! 
 
 Perhaps the residents in our English cities, living 
 in an atmosphere of refinement and culture, do not 
 feel or need so much the advantage and the charm 
 of our cathedral music, but it is almost impossible to 
 over-estimate the secret civilizing influence it exer- 
 cises on a busy colonial society, apt to be vulgarized 
 by the acquisition of wealth, or by the jostling 
 throng of trade and commerce. The cathedral 
 and the church is not only central in position, it is 
 also the focus of civilization and refinement. With 
 its reverent and careful ritual, its stately and 
 beautiful music, and its cultured preaching, it 
 dignifies the life around it. The forces that 
 influence us most are not always the most obvious. 
 Their very secrecy adds to their power. They 
 steal upon us unawares, and give no trouble or 
 occasion for resistance. We are often rendered 
 happy for a day by a dream that we forget ; and 
 the dullest labour is made poetical by an antici- 
 pated joy. Expression is more influential than 
 language, and tone than manner. And the silent 
 light transfigures and glorifies every feature of the 
 whole landscape. Even the winter of utilita- 
 rianism and positivism runs the risk of thawing at 
 the subtle approach of mysterious influences they 
 despise or ignore. The silent influence of Christ- 
 church Cathedral will be felt increasingly, and 
 nothing will tend more to keep alive in the 
 busy city and the thriving province that ideal of 
 Christian civilization and society which inspired 
 its first founders. 
 
 The spirit of the founders is traceable in the 
 
268 
 
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 architecture of the provincial buildings, where the 
 local Parliament used to meet until the year 1875, 
 when provincial government was abolished, and 
 all legislation was transferred to the Colonial 
 Parliament at Wellington, and local affairs were 
 carried on by a county council after the most 
 approved modern fashion in each of the sixty-two 
 counties into which New Zealand was then newly 
 divided. This Parliament House at Christchurch 
 is as dignified and solemn as a church, and is 
 approached by a cool monastic cloister. The 
 effect it produces is something like the impression 
 which was made by the English House of Lords 
 upon M. de Montalembert. It is more like a 
 temple than a place of business. It gives a sense 
 of the sacredness of political life and political 
 duty. 
 
 The founders on their arrival devoted a certain 
 portion of land for the use of the Church and 
 another for education. The consequence is that 
 the Church is partially endowed. I believe that 
 every canon and the incumbent of every parish 
 receives a year as a foundation of his income. 
 There is, however, no endowment for parochial 
 schools. But, in spite of this, St. Michael’s parish 
 and several others in the diocese nobly maintain 
 Church schools, where the children can be educated 
 in the Church’s faith. Besides the university build- 
 ings, there are high schools for girls and for boys. 
 One of the most interesting institutions is what 
 is called the college. This is a large public school 
 entirely in the hands of the Church. It is the 
 Eton of New Zealand. Boys are sent there from 
 all parts of the colony, and it appears to be in 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 269 
 
 flourishing prosperity. There is a beautiful chapel, 
 masters’ houses, lecture-rooms and class-rooms, and 
 a superb gymnasium, an exact copy, I was told, 
 of the one at Oxford. These buildings are 
 grouped in a quadrangle with a green lawn in 
 the centre, and look thoroughly collegiate. There 
 is also a very fine “ducker,” supplied with water 
 from the Avon, which divides the school grounds 
 from the public gardens, and some of the boys 
 are first-rate swimmers and divers. It is hardly 
 necessary to say that there is plenty of cricket and 
 football. 
 
2/0 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Socially, Canterbury is aristocratic. The coun- 
 ties and towns, the very mountains and rivers, are 
 patrician, and the patricians themselves drive 
 through the streets, lunch at the clubs, transact 
 business in the day, play lawn tennis in the 
 evening, and go to church on Sunday. 
 
 There are the counties of Ashley and Ash- 
 burton, the Townsend, Grey, and Cholmondeley 
 rivers, the towns of Cavendish and Aylesbury, 
 Lyttelton and Sumner, Lake Coleridge, and 
 Mounts Peel and Sinclair. The names of places 
 give an idea of the character of their inhabitants. 
 It is so in England, where the Romans, the Danes, 
 the Saxons are betrayed by the names of town 
 and village. It is so in America, where the mixed 
 multitude from every nation and the incongruous, 
 fantastic character of the people is reflected in every 
 fifty miles of railway. It is so especially in Utah 
 State, where the Old Testament spirit of the 
 followers of Smith and Brigham Young breaks 
 out on the map, mixed with the rough nomenclature 
 of the hunter and the cowboy. It is so in Paris, 
 where the streets are weary of changing their 
 names as often as the Parisians their rulers. 
 
 And it is so in Canterbury and Christchurch, 
 where the elements of earth and water and the 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 271 
 
 streets of the city breathe of peerages and prelacy. 
 Coming from England, where the names of the rivers 
 are the oldest things to be named, too old even to 
 be understood, it gives the traveller a slight tremor, 
 as of an incipient earthquake threatening an 
 upheaval of his geographical sense, when he is 
 suddenly introduced at afternoon tea to a per- 
 sonified river. It is uncanny. It is even pagan. 
 The young lady, the venerable man, ought to be 
 surrounded by flags and bulrushes, and to be 
 constantly pouring water from a classical amphora. 
 It requires an act of self-recollection to remember 
 that this is the “ pilgrim,” or the daughter of the 
 “pilgrim” who landed on these wide shores, and 
 finding the natural features of the country nameless 
 or called by names as unintelligible and musical as 
 the warbling of the birds, gave his patrician name 
 to the hills and streams and to a grateful posterity 
 of geographical students. 
 
 But, if Christchurch is aristocratic, the aristocracy 
 is not of that stiff, exclusive, and formal breed that 
 stares at a new-comer for a year, nods at him for 
 another, extends three gracious finger-tips for a 
 third, and invites him to luncheon in the fourth. 
 There is birth, breeding, refinement, culture, 
 accomplishment, and all that makes life graceful 
 and fascinating ; but it beams around it with the 
 generous warmth and freedom of colonial or 
 American hospitality. There is probably no 
 English settlement out of England so advanced in 
 civilization, so polished, so versed in the art of life, 
 as Christchurch. Certainly there can be none 
 more hospitable. There are not many visitors at 
 Christchurch unacquainted with Ham, the country 
 
ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 seat of Mr. Leonard Harper. It lies a few miles 
 out of the city, in the great plain. 
 
 A flat plain does not lend itself readily to land- 
 scape gardening. But the difficulties have been 
 surmounted at Ham. The drowsy Avon in its 
 infancy flows through the grounds, broadening 
 into deep pools haunted by trout and possessed by 
 petted swans majestically resentful of an intrusive 
 canoe ; and it is even surprised and shaken into a 
 waterfall that froths and splashes round the roots 
 and flag-like leaves of the flax and the rustling 
 foliage of pampas grass and toi-toi. Delicious 
 lawns, variegated with bright flower-beds, slope 
 down to the stream, which is crossed by rustic 
 bridges, overhung by weeping willows, and shaded 
 by plantations. A pine wood, fragrant and warm, 
 cushioned with moss and fallen pine-needles, offers 
 a pleasant shelter for a bathing arbour, from which 
 a plunge into the pool is not too cold before 
 breakfast even so late in autumn as the end of 
 April. The orchard, hidden by a screen of flower- 
 ing shrubs and evergreens, is an astonishing 
 revelation of the fertility of the soil and the 
 geniality of the climate. Rows and rows of 
 vigorous middle-aged trees droop their overladen 
 boughs till they rest on the ground their golden- 
 red, juicy burden of Ribston pippins, each of 
 which would take a horticultural prize. The flat 
 plain is hidden from viev/ by pines and gums on 
 every side but one, where a gap has been judi- 
 ciously left open, through which can be watched 
 the spectacle of the autumn day dying on the 
 range of snowy Alps. 
 
 The house inside is beautiful. A porch, flanked 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 273 
 
 by ferns, and a corridor lead into a furnished hall. 
 Near the piano is a large case of stuffed New 
 Zealand birds and trophies of weapons from “ the 
 islands.” A few steps connect the hall with another 
 corridor, which is the lowest stage of the staircase. 
 On the wall behind these steps hangs a large, im- 
 pressive water-colour drawing of Mount Cook. 
 The drawing-room, dining-room, study, and pas- 
 sages are well hung with interesting pictures. A 
 depressed recess in the drawing-room is occupied 
 by an organ of considerable power and of soft, rich 
 tone. It was a charming room to spend an Easter 
 hour of rest, reading and listening to the organ, 
 while all the time, outside the open window, the 
 fantails, black and grey, were frisking and chatter- 
 ing among the broad leaves of a huge magnolia 
 that overshadows all one side of the house, and 
 lazy blue-bottles were sunning themselves on the 
 broad, white, perfumed flowers. 
 
 The house and the lawns were merry with the 
 laughter of children. Although I need nothing 
 to remind me of Ham and the Christian charm 
 and kind courtesy of the owners, yet whenever I 
 look at the photograph of the two youngest little 
 girls which ornaments my drawing-room, or show 
 it to my friends, as I often do, the vision of that 
 delightful English country house on the other side 
 of the globe rises clear before me, and makes me 
 feel how close and how intricate are the sympathies 
 and instincts that bind the colonies to the mother 
 country. English life, and home, and character 
 have tenaciously rooted themselves and possessed 
 the soil. Severance from England would not only 
 be a blunder ; it is an impossibility. 
 
 T 
 
274 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 Fox-hunting, whether it is a lingering relic of 
 barbarism or not, is an aristocratic as well as a 
 popular sport, and it flourishes at Christchurch. 
 Cub-hunting began on the ist of April. The 
 cubs, however, are leverets ; sometimes, perhaps, 
 they are red herrings soaked in aniseed. Fox- 
 hunting flourishes in spite of the fences, which are 
 enough to frighten a Mytten, being chiefly com- 
 posed of barbed wire, arranged on purpose to keep 
 the cattle within the paddocks by inflicting such a 
 cruel gash upon their flesh that they would for ever 
 after refuse to face a bit of barbed wire. Some- 
 times these wires are concealed in a thick fence of 
 furze, which renders them doubly dangerous, and 
 deceit is added to cruelty. However, young 
 gentlemen near Auckland, who pride themselves 
 on their fast hounds and quick runs, affect to 
 despise the inferior sport of Christchurch, and 
 draw contemptuous pictures of sportsmen dis- 
 mounting at a barbed fence, taking off their coats 
 and hanging them on the wires, and then getting 
 into the saddle again and putting the horses at the 
 obstacle, now become visible. This view of the 
 Aucklanders is no doubt taken through the green 
 glasses of rivalry, and would be suitably delineated 
 in the pages of their Punch, if they had one. It 
 must be added that, even if this little circus were 
 really enacted in the Christchurch hunting-field ; 
 as a “paddock” in the colonies may embrace an 
 area of several thousand acres, there are not so 
 many fences as in Leicestershire, and the man- 
 oeuvre would not demand incessant repetition. In 
 fact, as hares double, and there are plenty of them, 
 it is conceivable that a day’s sport might be con- 
 fined to a single “ paddock.” 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 275 
 
 Side by side with the aristocratic element of 
 Christchurch exists the democratic, although there 
 is no felt antagonism. The democratic element 
 shows itself chiefly in the region of politics. The 
 “ unemployed ” and their orators were often 
 gathered around the lamp-posts in the cathedral 
 square, indignant at the Government for offering 
 them three and sixpence a day at the public relief 
 works — levelling some sand-hills — and demanded 
 five shillings, the lowest minimum that could be 
 accepted by any but a slave. The working-men 
 of New Zealand are fully aware of their power. 
 Six months’ residence in an electoral district, quite 
 irrespective of property, entitles a man to a vote 
 for that district. He may also claim an additional 
 vote for any other electoral district in which he 
 owns property to the amount of £ 2 ^. There are 
 ninety-five members in the House of Representa- 
 tives, and each member is paid £210 for each 
 session. The election is triennial. The Upper 
 House is appointed for life entirely by the 
 governor. To both Houses Maoris are admitted. 
 Manhood suffrage naturally renders colonial 
 government democratic ; and, as colonial politics 
 are chiefly confined to the expenditure of public 
 money, and the exciting question that divides 
 parties is, “Shall we or shall we not permit Sir 
 Julius Vogel to borrow ten millions?” the 
 working-men naturally take good care that their 
 interests shall not suffer; and the “ unemployed,” 
 who have votes as well as their working mates, feel 
 that their harangues and declamations have more 
 influence on the course of public affairs than the 
 crowds and speeches of Trafalgar Square on the 
 
2y6 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 legislature at home. There is also a temptation to 
 scramble for the public money, each legislator 
 trying to get a little railway, a pier, or a sluice for 
 his own constituents. 
 
 Of colonial politics we had a little peep on the 
 night of Lady Day, when Sir George Grey, the 
 Gladstone of New Zealand, addressed two thousand 
 people in the Tuam Street Hall. He spoke for an 
 hour and a half, and was loudly cheered, especially 
 when, acknowledging that wages must suffer 
 reduction, he proposed to begin with the members 
 of Parliament and to reduce official salaries. He 
 spoke of the connection of New Zealand with 
 the Pacific Islands, and protested against the 
 introduction of intoxicating liquors. “ The doc- 
 trine,” he said, “ the missionaries are teaching is 
 one of peace and good will towards all men ; of 
 temperance, sobriety, and the various virtues which 
 should adorn a Christian man. And should we 
 not on this occasion bind ourselves by a solemn 
 obligation to enter these islands, when they are 
 civilized, in a becoming spirit, and not carry with 
 us the fire-water to banish those poor creatures 
 from the face of the earth ” But we could not help 
 smiling as the climax of the work of the missionaries 
 and martyrs appeared to be the introduction of com- 
 merce and the material prosperity of New Zealand ; 
 as though the devotion of the noble army of 
 martyrs was to culminate in supplying the natives 
 of Levuka with tweed and flannel, and giving to 
 the colony in return cheap cigarettes for the club- 
 room and brown sugar for the breakfast-table. Sir 
 George spoke of the railway from Christchurch to 
 the west coast, for which he once successfully 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 277 
 
 carried a Bill through Parliament, but which had 
 afterwards been quashed, and was now, after 
 many years, on the eve of accomplishment. But 
 the pikce de resistance of the evening was a 
 proposal to buy up the land and divide it into 
 small farms, a scheme somewhat, it seemed, in 
 sympathy with the ideas of Mr. Henry George. 
 The views of the orator were not acceptable to all 
 the audience, and at the close of the speech there 
 was a little scene. A man rose to ask a question, 
 and was greeted with uproar. Amid cries of 
 “Turn him out,” he pushed his way to the plat- 
 form and shouted out, “ Who was the first man 
 that lowered the price of land in Canterbury from 
 £l to lOJ. and 5^. an acre?” Sir George admitted 
 that it was he, and explained that he had done it 
 in order to enable working-men to purchase, and 
 as part of the scheme he was now proposing ; but 
 that if he had remained in power he should have 
 tried to impose a land-tax. “You,” shouted the 
 interlocutor, “you were the man who smothered 
 me by selling land to G. H. Rhodes and Bobby 
 Moore.” “You asked,” replied Sir George, “ who 
 was the man who first reduced the price of land in 
 New Zealand. I say, here he stands.” “I’ve not 
 done yet,” said the other ; “ I’ll meet you again.” 
 The persons excitedly referred to are well-known 
 large landed proprietors. Some estates held by 
 private persons or companies are very large. 
 There are seven owners who each possess more 
 than 100,000 acres, and there are 259 who each 
 possess more than 10,000 acres. The Piako swamp 
 estate, near Te Aroha in the North Island, consist- 
 ing of 88,000 acres, was nearly all bought from the 
 
2/8 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 Government at 2s. 6d. an acre. The price of land 
 is now £2 an acre. But this by many persons is 
 considered too high, and, during our stay, a 
 petition to Parliament was being signed in favour 
 of reducing the price to £i an acre and allowing 
 each buyer to acquire as much as 1000 acres. 
 Although the amount of Crown land obtainable by 
 one man is strictly limited, it is not difficult for 
 persons to evade the law by putting forward men 
 to purchase from the Government, who only hold 
 the land for a time and then sell to their patrons. 
 
 The great fertile plains of Canterbury, intersected 
 and well watered by the broad, sweeping rivers, 
 are covered with “ mobs ” of sheep and cattle that 
 are to be counted by tens of thousands, while the 
 fortunate reaper reaps from every acre his twenty- 
 five or thirty, or in some favoured spots his eighty 
 or even a hundred, bushels of wheat to the acre. 
 A gentleman, with whom I stayed, told me that 
 his average for seven years had been forty bushels. 
 Twenty bushels is considered bad. The richest 
 land lies near the coast line, where the soil is 
 formed by the deposit of the rivers. Kaiapoi, for 
 instance, at the mouth of the Waimakariri, is a 
 place of extraordinary fertility. Near the moun- 
 tains the land is poor and cold. The grass land 
 has to be ploughed up every few years, because 
 the clover and grasses become thin and dwindle 
 away. Without the friendly aid of humble-bees 
 the red clover bears only very little seed, and, 
 although the bees have multiplied wonderfully in 
 the brief time since their introduction, they find 
 the native shrubs equally to their taste. Clover 
 itself, when ploughed in, acts as a rich manure. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 279 
 
 Otherwise the land is never manured. Apart from 
 other reasons, the expense of labour would be too 
 great. Altogether the farming in the plains of 
 Canterbury would be lightly regarded by home 
 agriculturists. But, in spite of the rich soil of 
 Canterbury, agricultural depression is felt there as 
 it is at home. In 1883 these plains yielded more 
 than six million bushels of wheat. In 1886 they 
 yielded less than three millions. Only half the 
 amount of land was sown with wheat, and the yield 
 of grain was less than half. Some years ago a 
 well-known Christchurch proprietor sold a thousand 
 sheep for a thousand pounds, without paying for 
 transport ; his son not long ago sold a thousand 
 sheep for a thousand shillings. But the price of 
 sheep varies very much. One gentleman, who had 
 been in the country twenty or thirty years, told me 
 that he sold the previous year 2000 sheep at an 
 average price of 6s. apiece. Another, who had just 
 come out to commence farming, bought ICX) for 
 2s. 6d., 100 for 2s., and 100 for 4^-. 
 
 And we also heard of sheep being sold for four- 
 pence apiece, and even of a flock being given 
 away. Fourpence apiece reminds one of prices in 
 the reign of Queen Elizabeth. Scarcity of pasture, 
 owing to the extraordinary and prolonged drought, 
 was the reason for this cheapness. The agricultural 
 interest of the colony is placed at a great dis- 
 advantage by the remoteness of the islands from 
 the markets of the world, and by the scantiness of 
 their population. 
 
 Akaroa is now one of the most successful 
 districts of the Canterbury province. The slopes 
 of the hills are sown with cock’s-foot grass, on which 
 
28 o 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 sheep and cows are fed. Towards the end of 
 winter portions of the pasture are enclosed, allowed 
 to seed, and then harvested. The seed is sold at 
 fourpence per pound. After the seed is taken the 
 cows and sheep are turned on again. A few pigs 
 are kept on the spare milk from the dairies. 
 
 But, if agricultural prosperity has declined, there 
 has been no real distress to farmers and landlords, 
 as there has been in England, and, meantime, 
 other industries are achieving success and new 
 manufactures arising. There are manufactories of 
 cloth and flannel, boots, pottery, and brick, iron 
 foundries, grain and saw mills, and meat-preserving 
 works. 
 
 One of the speakers at the Colonial Conference 
 said, “ We are quite willing at the present time to 
 take a couple of millions of people, and could 
 employ them all.” 
 
 It is certain that the general prosperity of New 
 Zealand would greatly increase, if the population 
 were multiplied by an immigration of a section of 
 the mother country — men of wealth, whose money 
 would be spent in the colony, farmers with some 
 capital, and labourers and tradesmen. Anyhow, 
 the colony has made a rapid and extraordinary 
 advance, and is certainly destined some day to 
 develope into a great nation. “ My faith is,” w'rote 
 Bishop Selwyn, “ that New Zealand will be a great 
 country, and that it is our duty to strive, as God 
 may give us strength, that it may be good, as it will 
 be great.” 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 281 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The mission was inaugurated in the cathedral at 
 evensong on Thursday, the day after our arrival. 
 
 At the close of the service the Bishop of Christ- 
 church, who is also Primate of New Zealand, came 
 down from his throne to the entrance of the 
 chancel, and, standing under the arch of the rood 
 screen, addressed us in kind and sympathetic words, 
 and ended by putting to us the following question : — 
 “ Now, brethren, are you willing to undertake the 
 work of conducting the mission in this diocese?” 
 Canon Bodington replied, “ My Lord Bishop, we 
 gladly undertake the work you have committed to 
 our charge, and will discharge it to the best of our 
 ability, God helping us.” We knelt on the step 
 before him and he gave us our commission : “ Re- 
 ceive from us mission and authority in the name 
 of the Lord to do the work of evangelists in this 
 diocese ; and may the Lord Himself be a lantern 
 to your feet and a light to your path, and bless 
 the word spoken by you to the edification of His 
 people and the glory of His Holy Name, through 
 the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.” 
 
 Our missions began next day, and continued with 
 very little intermission for more than three months. 
 
282 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 Each of US conducted six missions in the city and 
 the immediate suburbs, beside preaching and 
 teaching in the cathedral and elsewhere. My 
 friend’s work was at St. Michael’s, St. Matthew’s, 
 Opawa, Avonside, Papanui, and St. John’s. Mine 
 was at Addington, Sydenham, Merivale, Woolston, 
 St. Luke’s,‘and Philipstown. To preach so many 
 missions in sequence in the same city we naturally 
 found a trying work and a drain upon our mental 
 store. The subjects of the sermons and addresses 
 of each mission are necessarily the same, but, 
 although the truths which have to be presented 
 are the same, yet it is desirable to vary the manner 
 of their presentation, especially as many people, 
 who have been attracted by a mission in their 
 own parish, attend parts of other missions, and a 
 few, perhaps, go through nearly the whole course. 
 
 St. Michael’s is the fashionable church of the 
 city. It is built with considerable pretensions to 
 beauty, and is as handsome as a wooden church 
 can be. It has a good organ, stained-glass 
 windows, and, like most of the churches in this 
 diocese, has a reverently and even richly appointed 
 altar. The parsonage garden is hardly separated 
 from the churchyard. Addington is a pretty 
 church in the suburbs, and it stands in a well-kept 
 grassy churchyard, shaded by pines. 
 
 The weather, which had been so intensely hot 
 that my bedroom candle melted and hung limp 
 and pendent over the side of the candlestick, 
 changed. The south wind blew cool, and on the 
 1st of March the mountains presented a glorious 
 sight, robed in freshly fallen sprinkled snow. We 
 climbed the cathedral tower and enjoyed the grand 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 283 
 
 panorama. The tower is surmounted by a lofty 
 spire, an addition to the original plan, and too 
 bold an addition, many think, on account of the 
 earthquakes. In fact, the last shock that was felt 
 dislodged a stone from near the summit, and it fell 
 to earth with a crash and imbedded itself in the 
 ground. Since that another earthquake has almost 
 wrecked it. 
 
 Twice during the mission Canon Bodington gave 
 an address at the churchyard gate to the work- 
 men and passers-by. His afternoon addresses 
 were on the Beatitudes. The bishop attended the 
 final service, stood before the altar during the 
 singing of the Te Deum, and gave the Bene- 
 diction. 
 
 An amusing and touching incident happened at 
 this time. My friend and I were laughing one 
 day at our poverty. My shoes sadly wanted mend- 
 ing, and I had only a shilling left. My friend had 
 a pound in the bank. A clergyman, entering into 
 the humour of the situation, gave me a pair of 
 shoes, which were too small for himself. They fitted 
 me admirably ; so I gratefully took them, and I 
 wear them still. My straw hat, which has also lasted 
 me six years, was given me by a good friend at 
 Kumara. So I said I was a lucky mendicant, 
 clothed from top to toe by charity. 
 
 The story of the hat and shoes got wind and 
 spread, and in a day or two I received the follow- 
 ing letter : — 
 
 “ Dear Sir, 
 
 “ Having heard quite accidentally that the shoes 
 want mending, and that there is not much to mend them 
 
284 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 with, I have great pleasure in enclosing something to do 
 it with, and any other little personal wants which need 
 attention. Believe me, truly yours, but one wishing not to 
 be known.” 
 
 A month later, 1 received in the same masculine 
 hand another note containing another sovereign — • 
 
 “ Dear Mr. Mason, 
 
 “ I am afraid that the amount of walking you do 
 may have worn the soles very thin, so here is another shoe- 
 mender, with the best wishes of the sender.” 
 
 A third remittance followed later. This cheery 
 and graceful act, the prompting of a kind and 
 generous heart, was thoroughly typical of the 
 Christchurch character. I acknowledged the gift 
 and thanked the giver in the Church Nems^ and 
 sent the money, as usual, to the mission fund. It 
 was these charming little episodes and courteous 
 charities that brightened our prolonged work, and 
 encouraged us through the late autumn chills and 
 storms of advancing winter. They were an evi- 
 dence of sympathy, and showed that the hearts 
 of the people were, like their own rich plains, 
 “ good ground.” All the time of my stay I was 
 kept supplied with delicious grapes by Mrs. Harper 
 of Ham. 
 
 Perhaps to refined and cultured minds there is 
 no apparent and immediate connection between 
 the wash-tub and the virtues of the spiritual 
 life, or, perhaps, between the baker’s kneading- 
 trough or the fisherman’s net and the kingdom 
 of heaven ; but whether these subtleties and sug- 
 gestions are too vulgar for the dainty touch of 
 aesthetic society or not, I have no doubt that the 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 285 
 
 angels are often in the kitchen and the pantry, 
 and observe and record for a future occasion 
 what is done with soap-suds and dishcloths. 
 Perhaps under the cover of their wings I may say 
 that during the whole of our sojourn in the pro- 
 vince of Christchurch, whether servants were kept 
 or not, we never had any expenses in connection 
 with the laundry. 
 
 It would be criminal not to record my deep 
 gratitude to Canon and Mrs. Stanford and their 
 family, who welcomed me as if I had been one 
 of themselves, kept a room always ready for me 
 and a place at table, and were almost inclined to 
 scold me if I happened to lunch anywhere else. 
 Canon Stanford was really, although not so named, 
 the chancellor of the diocese. He was principal 
 of the Theological College, which is considered an 
 upper department of the great public school — the 
 Eton, as I have called it — of Christchurch. The 
 house is called the College House, and contains 
 studies and a lecture-room for the use of the 
 students. The house is surrounded by a verandah, 
 overrun with passion-flowers. There is a fernery 
 and a good lawn-tennis ground, surrounded by 
 beds of flowers, shrubs, dracsenas, and insignis 
 pines. It was in this delightful place that I found 
 a real home, invested with all the refinements and 
 comforts and leisure that the most considerate 
 hospitality could suggest. On the few spare even- 
 ings there was generally music. The family was 
 entirely musical, and the instruments were the 
 violin, the ’cello, the flute, and the piano. Besides 
 this, the latest volumes of poetry and the best 
 books from Mudie’s or Smith’s list lay on the 
 
286 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 table, and there was a good theological library, 
 and an earnest and ardent Churchman and theo- 
 logian, ready to help and glad to advance in- 
 teresting subjects for discussion. No wonder that 
 I found the College House a restful and congenial 
 home, and suffered myself to be an enfant gati. 
 
 The Addington Mission was broken into by the 
 Sydenham Mission. In this mission I had again 
 the privilege of addressing daily the men at the 
 Government railway works. I was not allowed to 
 speak inside the grounds for fear of creating a 
 precedent or exciting jealousies. I stood outside, 
 rang a bell, borrowed a watch, and, after our old 
 hymn, “ Lord, I hear,” spoke to my hearty and 
 attentive crowd, composed not only of Churchmen, 
 but of Roman Catholics and Dissenters. The 
 well-bred freedom of their manners was quite de- 
 lightful. One Friday, as I came up, I observed 
 one of my friends looking at his watch. “ What’s 
 the time?” I said. “You seem to be keeping a 
 look-out.” “ Oh,” he replied, “ you’re late to-day ; 
 you must have dined on fish.” After the last 
 address a Wesleyan proposed a vote of thanks, 
 which was received with cheers. They crowded 
 round to grasp my hand, and wanted to give me 
 a watch with an inscription, but I thought it better 
 to decline the gift, kind and generous though it 
 was, and however suggestively accelerating it 
 might have proved on fish days. The railway 
 works, where everything is made from a tenpenny 
 nail to a steam-engine, seem to be as complete as 
 anything in America or England. It was interest- 
 ing to watch the lumps of glowing scrap-iron 
 being welded under the terrific blows of the steam- 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 287 
 
 hammer, while the agile smith, armed with long 
 pincers, deftly and rapidly shifted and turned the 
 fiery metal. In the model-shop are seen wooden 
 models of everything which is to be cast in brass 
 or iron. To an uninitiated visitor all seems won- 
 derful — the tires of the wheels, made purposely 
 too small to fit the wheels, expanded by heat and 
 dropped on, to shrink at their own cool leisure ; 
 the steel axles, made too large to fit into the boss 
 of the wheels, and then driven home by the sheer 
 force of hydraulic pressure ; the machines for 
 planing iron, sewing tarpaulins, and the thousand 
 works necessitated by modern locomotion. 
 
 Some of my friends who came to me in the vestry 
 with their troubles and sorrows were delightfully 
 frank. They did not waste any time beating about 
 the bush. They started the game at once. One fine 
 young fellow introduced the subject with the same 
 straightforward, dispassionate judgment that he 
 would have used about a horse, by saying, “ Good 
 evening, sir ; I’ve a nasty habit of swearing.” 
 
 At the close of the mission I received two 
 touching anonymous presents, a Prayer-book and 
 a Bible. Inside the Prayer-book were written two 
 texts, taken from our mission memorial card : 
 “Christ loved the Church and gave Himself for 
 it;” “Christ loved me and gave Himself for me.” 
 On the fly-leaf of the Bible was an inscription ; 
 
 “ Please accept this Holy Book from a member of 
 Christ, a child of God, and inheritor of the king- 
 dom of Heaven. Pray for us to seek repentance 
 unto the end.” I wish the kind givers might know 
 that I use these beautiful books with grateful 
 remembrance more than twice every day of miy life. 
 
288 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 The mission ended the day before Shrove Tues- 
 day. The carnival was marked at the cathedral 
 by a choral festival, rendered imposing by the 
 presence of two metropolitans, one of whom, the 
 Bishop of Sydney, was the preacher, and by a 
 procession .of trumpets, torches, and banners. On 
 the morrow of Ash Wednesday I began a course 
 of midday instructions at the cathedral, which, 
 thirty-seven in number, lasted till Good Friday. 
 This work was additional to the missions. The 
 course was meant to be an outline of doctrinal 
 theolog5^ It began with the character of the 
 historical Christ, as an undisputed basis, and 
 proceeded to His Person, His natures. His work ; 
 the existence, attributes, and character of God ; 
 the meaning of sin and salvation ; the Person and 
 office of the Holy Ghost ; revelation ; the Church, 
 the Sacraments, the theological virtues, and the 
 consummation of all things. The instructions, 
 spoiled as they were by want of leisure for pre- 
 paration, by fatigue, and other hindrances, were 
 heard by a patient and increasing audience, among 
 whom at first were the two lenient metropolitans. 
 In fact, the venerable Bishop of Christchurch came 
 every day, when he was not otherwise engaged, 
 and was contented to sit in beautiful humility 
 among his flock on one of the ordinary chairs. It 
 was not my business to set vergers to rights, but 
 I was strongly tempted to throw a stone into the 
 too placid stream and set a chair more worthy of 
 the high dignity of the Primate of New Zealand. 
 It was one of the great privileges of our mission 
 that we were allowed to work under him, and to 
 be continually cheered and strengthened by his 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 289 
 
 grand example, his vigorous Churchmanship, and 
 his hearty and frank sympathy. Although he was 
 eighty-two years of age, he was as active as when 
 he came out more than thirty years ago. He was 
 always present at the early Communion and daily 
 matins, and cold and storm had no power to 
 hinder his attendance even at services from which 
 his absence would have seemed natural. He has 
 now resigned, and the following extract from the 
 Lyttelton Times, which, unlike the Auckland 
 papers, scarcely ever notices ecclesiastical affairs, 
 shows the reverence and esteem in which he is 
 held : — 
 
 “ Every one, whatever may be his particular 
 denomination, will regret to hear that the primate 
 has announced his resignation. Because every 
 one knows that of the few who are so full of years 
 as he, hardly any can show so pure a record of a 
 life, not blameless only, but full of activity, zeal, 
 and untiring devotion. Truly, the primate is the 
 ‘Grand Old Man’ of New Zealand. In the full 
 vigour of his manhood he came here. When he 
 came he began to work simply, methodically, per- 
 severing through hardship, undeterred by discom- 
 fort. Like the apostles of old, he travelled many 
 a mile on foot ; like the missionaries of the 
 wildest countries, he traversed many an inhos- 
 pitable region, swam over many a river, endured 
 the cold of many a camp. Nothing of this ever 
 interfered with his duty. The stopping-places 
 of his journeys always found him ready to conduct 
 service, to preach the gospel, to visit the sick, to 
 do the many works of which the Great Master had 
 set him the example. To-day, when the day of 
 
 u 
 
290 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 his golden wedding is far behind him, and his 
 grandchildren people the land, he does his duty 
 always in the same methodical, strenuous, un- 
 flinching fashion. In the mornings and evenings 
 his venerable form is to be seen going towards 
 College chapel or diocesan cathedral. Every 
 Sunday a new place sees ‘ my lord ’ in its pulpit 
 and ministering at its altar. Confirmation takes 
 him everywhere, and so do visitings ; and all the 
 while he does the work of his diocese, and watches 
 over the churches of New Zealand. What Can- 
 terbury thinks of the apostolic man who has a 
 place in every heart, was shown by the cheering 
 that greeted him from one end of the Jubilee pro- 
 cession to the other. Full of years and honours, 
 he is laying down his pastoral staff to take, before 
 he dies in peace, the rest he has so well earned by 
 his sublime life. May that rest be long : in other 
 words, may the grand lesson of his life be kept 
 before us as long as possible.” 
 
 The west front of the cathedral faces a large 
 square, and the square is a favourite place for 
 meetings. It was decided that we should utilize 
 the square in the interest of the mission on 
 Saturday nights. At the appointed hour I found 
 a political orator occupying a lamp-post and 
 addressing a large number of men. I joined the 
 group, and inquired whether I might have a turn 
 when they had done. This, however, appeared 
 impracticable, and I had to be content with another 
 lamp-post. This lamp-post was my pulpit every 
 Saturday night, and a very good one it was, so 
 long as consciousness of the limited area of the 
 perch was preserved in the anterior lobe of the 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 291 
 
 brain. I robed in a shop upstairs, in the presence 
 of two hundred dolls with staring blue eyes and 
 flaxen hair and eyebrows arched with well-bred 
 surprise, as though they would say, “ Who is this 
 eccentric individual, and what on earth is he going 
 to do ? ” One night there appeared among the 
 rest a doll in surplice, stole, and hood. I under- 
 stood afterwards that he was not created for my 
 benefit, but had figured in a doll show. In these 
 Saturday preachings I was helped by Canon Stan- 
 ford and other clergymen and laymen. Sometimes 
 the crowd was very large. Once, if it had not 
 been for the softening influences of the Archdeacon 
 of Akaroa, the inspector of police would have 
 made us “ move on.” The audience was always 
 respectful and sympathetic. The only interruption 
 was on Easter Eve. An old man called out, 
 “ Come down off there. Take off that white rag.” 
 Some of the crowd began to hustle him, and I had 
 to appeal to them to let him alone. 
 
 The missions at St. Michael’s and Addington 
 were followed by missions at St. Matthew’s and 
 St. Mary’s, Merivale. In this ecclesiastical city 
 the saints are almost too thick on the ground. 
 St. Matthew’s parish is in St. Alban’s district. 
 Canon Bodington found this mission one of the 
 heartiest and best worked. The surpliced choir 
 went out every night in their surplices to proclaim 
 the mission and bring in the men. 
 
 In the day’s holiday (except for the cathedral 
 address) which followed, we were driven to Sumner, 
 a seaside watering-place at the foot of the Lyttel- 
 ton hills, where broad, firm sands are frowned upon 
 by fine and fantastically twisted and perfora i 
 
292 
 
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 cliffs of lava. The beach was strewn with the 
 broadest seaweed ribands I ever saw, and with 
 black, oval egg-bags of some species of skate, and 
 with a few shells. 
 
 The prolonged dry weather, which rendered 
 pasture so scarce and stock so cheap, also caused 
 many sefious prairie fires. It was said that a 
 hundred thousand acres of grass were burnt and 
 many thousand sheep. “ For twenty miles around 
 us,” wrote an eye-witness, “ there was nothing but 
 fire. We were encircled by a belt of flame, miles 
 wide, and we had to make a race for it. So fast 
 did the fire travel that, although the horses were 
 galloping, they were scorched. The settlers were 
 out, doing what they could to save their stock 
 and horses, and many narrow escapes took place. 
 In some of the valleys the clouds of smoke were 
 so dense that it resembled the darkest night, and 
 the horses were allowed to go their own way. It 
 resembled nothing so much as the pictures one 
 sees of a great battle, with heavy, towering clouds 
 of smoke and lurid flashes of fire lighting it up. 
 We came to a creek. The only means of crossing 
 it was by a bridge, down upon which the fire was 
 rolling. The only thing we could do was to 
 gallop as hard as we could, and we just managed 
 to cross the bridge before the fire, though the 
 horses were scorched. The sight of the great 
 rolling waves of fire rolling down the sides of the 
 hill into the valley was magnificent. The dogs 
 would not face the bridge when the fire was so 
 close, and I don’t know what became of them.” 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 2Q3 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Our next missions were in the suburbs of Opawa, 
 Avonside, and Woolston, and at the town church 
 of St. Luke, which is under the charge of the 
 Archdeacon of Akaroa. 
 
 Opawa is a beautiful place, on the banks of the 
 sluggish Heathcote stream, embowered in groves 
 and orchards, a favourite place for country villas. 
 It is also noticeable for pisciculture. Thousands 
 of trout are reared, chiefly the American brook- 
 trout, distinguished by a white streak at the 
 bottom of each fin, and the salmon ova can be 
 seen on their gravel beds, enclosed in perforated 
 boxes washed by a flowing stream. Avonside 
 is nearer the city. The name carries its own 
 description. The chancel of St. Mark’s Church is 
 built of stone, the nave of sun-baked clay. Wool- 
 ston, which has a wooden church, lies on the long 
 straight road, haunted by trams and bordered by 
 poplars and pines, which leads to Sumner. The 
 salubrity of the New Zealand climate and the 
 longevity of its inhabitants was shown during the 
 mission by a fact which much impressed me. One 
 of the clergyman’s sons, little Vincent Merton, 
 went to stay with his great-grandmother in 
 
294 
 
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 order to allow his grandmother to come to 
 church. 
 
 One afternoon I gave an address to the men 
 in a tannery yard, as they left work. Every 
 day a hundred and fifty sheepskins are tanned, 
 and every week four hundred hides. The skins 
 are placed in long troughs filled with hot water, 
 mixed with other ingredients, and constantly 
 turned by elongated paddles. They are then 
 soaked for four days in native tannin. The 
 best tannin is the bark of the tanekaha pine, 
 which grows no further south than Nelson. It 
 belongs to the genus Phyllocladus, of which there 
 are only five species known to exist, three of 
 them in New Zealand. The black wattle from 
 Australia is largely cultivated for tannin. 
 
 St. Luke’s is not far from the cathedral. The 
 attendance at the mission was very good. Once or 
 twice not only the gangways, but even the vestries 
 and porches were crowded. 
 
 The weather was variable. At the beginning of 
 March the thermometer registered sometimes 86° in 
 the shade. A few days later, there were, perhaps, 
 storms of rain, and the air felt chilly and autumnal. 
 
 Our last missions during Lent were held at 
 the two churches of Lyttelton, at Rangiora, and 
 at Kaiapoi. 
 
 Lyttelton is the port of Christchurch, and it 
 is approached by a tunnel familiarly called “ The 
 Hole in the Hill,” more than a mile and a half 
 long through the lofty range of the Port Hills. 
 The harbour, which opens towards the north-east, 
 is completely land-locked. The hills, more than a 
 thousand feet high, are bare of trees, rugged and 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 295 
 
 craggy, with abrupt and sweeping ridges, and dip 
 sharply down to the smooth waters of the lake-like 
 sea. 
 
 Before “ The Hole in the Hill ” was tunnelled the 
 only way to Christchurch was over these steep 
 mountains. The view that burst upon the traveller 
 when he gained the crest of the ridge must have 
 been a superb surprise. It was over this rough 
 road that Bishop Selwyn came with Bishop Harper, 
 to enthrone him at Christchurch. Their luggage was 
 piled on a hand-cart drawn by a bullock and two 
 sailors. The two bishops took off their coats and 
 pushed behind. They did not know that their 
 friends below them at Lyttelton were enjoying the 
 unusual spectacle through their telescopes and 
 opera-glasses. 
 
 The straggling town fringes the shore and 
 scrambles tentatively up the gullies, and the broken 
 nature of the ground is favourable to picturesque, 
 terraced gardens. The two breakwaters almost 
 embrace and form a circle. The largest ships can 
 be comfortably wharved and docked. Canon Bod- 
 ington’s mission was at Holy Trinity, the principal 
 church of Lyttelton. It is built of stone in the 
 Early English style, and the parsonage, overgrown 
 with passion-flowers, is close beside it. His work 
 was diversified by an address to the men in the 
 prison, and three addresses to sailors and dockmen 
 on the wharf astern of the Rinmtaka, one of the 
 five grand, swift vessels of the New Zealand 
 Shipping Company, which w'as lying still, as if 
 resting for breath after her long rapid flight from 
 England and before rushing off again for another 
 forty days. 
 
2g6 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 My own work lay at the new wooden church of 
 West Lyttelton. The choir was composed of dear 
 little fellows from the large and comfortable 
 Orphanage, where also I gave an address one day. 
 Many of the men were engaged coaling two boats 
 all one night. Others were busy cleaning out the 
 dock. During the mission we were taken to visit 
 a poor old woman who lay in bed unable to move, 
 all crippled and shrunken with rheumatism. She 
 was full of joy. She said, “ I’m so glad God has 
 found me a niche — a work to do for Him : I can 
 pray for others.” I also went to see a fine old 
 sailor, a “ mud-pilot,” who lay dying. After I had 
 prayed with him he said to me, “ What am I to 
 say to-night ? ” I said, “ Into Thy hands, O Lord, 
 I commend my spirit, for Thou hast redeemed 
 me.” He repeated it, and then said to his wife, 
 ” Don’t forget that.” He died soon after. 
 
 On Passion Sunday there was a terrible disaster. 
 The Taiaroa, one of the Union Steamship Com- 
 pany’s boats, was wrecked at the mouth of the 
 Clarence river, fifteen miles north of the Kaikouras. 
 The early morning was perfectly calm and bright, 
 and the view of the harbour and the bay was 
 indescribably lovely. The headland, crowned 
 with a castellated signal station (where at one p.m. 
 every day a ball is made to fall by electric touch 
 from Wellington), was a lovely soft grey, and threw 
 a deep, quiet shadow on the still, glassy water. 
 The cliffs and steeps and breakwaters were the 
 same delicate tone, and it was impossible to dis- 
 tinguish between the shore and the reflection. 
 The headlands behind were bathed in silver haze 
 and the sun glittered brilliant and hot. Early in 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 297 
 
 the afternoon there was a sudden and fearful change. 
 A furious wind burst upon the bay with a dense, 
 driving, hurrying mist, pelting rain, dark masses of 
 low storm-cloud, rough angry waves, and flying 
 sheets of spray. The Taiaroa struck in the dark 
 upon a rock. The passengers got into the boats, 
 which were fastened astern. They nearly all cap- 
 sized. In one of the boats were eleven persons. 
 Nine of them died from exhaustion and cold. 
 About thirty people were drowned. Amongst 
 them were two professional betting-men, “ mags- 
 men ” as they are called, who were returning from 
 some races. One of them had on board a monkey 
 and a goose. These creatures he had cleverly 
 trained to work some gambling device, and to 
 pick out cards and numbers and to give them to 
 people. By this means he was able to evade the 
 letter of the law. He got safely into a boat and 
 was regretting that he could not save his pets. It 
 so happened that the magsman perished and the 
 monkey and the goose floated safe to land. 
 
 Rangiora is a small country town, north of 
 Christchurch, between the rivers Ashley and 
 Waimakariri. The Archdeacon of Rangiora is the 
 incumbent. He is the father of the Archdeacon 
 of Auckland. The neat and well-kept church 
 is built partly of concrete and partly of wood. 
 Besides preaching the mission at the parish church. 
 Canon Bodington also gave addresses atWoodend, 
 Fernside, and Kaiapoi. 
 
 Kaiapoi, which fell to my lot, is a large village 
 built on the rich soil of an island, which is part 
 of the delta of the Waimakariri. Farmers have 
 been known to reap from this fertile soil a hundred 
 
298 
 
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 bushels of wheat per acre. Sixty bushels is a 
 common crop. Besides the agricultural industries, 
 there is a large cloth manufactory, which employs 
 many men and produces first-rate flannels and 
 tweeds of pure, unmixed wool. 
 
 Kaiapoi, as well as Rangiora, is reached by 
 train from Christchurch. One of the two stations 
 on the way bears a Dantesque name. It is called 
 “ Styx.” But the name is not really infernal, any 
 more than the place. It owes its classical trans- 
 position to some surveyor of a poetical and imagi- 
 native turn of mind. The real name is “ The 
 Sticks,” because upright stakes were driven into 
 the bed of the stream to show the ford. The 
 other station is called “ Belfast.” A large freezing 
 establishment stands in a paddock near the 
 railway. A thousand carcases are frozen here 
 every day, and heaps of wool are seen spread out 
 in the field, and men busily combing them. 
 The railway bridge over the rushing Waimakariri 
 was built by an amateur, who also constructed 
 the mile-long bridge over the desolate shingle and 
 shifting channel of the Rangitata. He was called 
 ‘‘the heaven-born engineer.” The cost of the 
 bridge was only 1 3,000. As much or more had 
 already been spent in making futile experiments, 
 and in obtaining learned opinions that the thing 
 was impossible. The river was declared to be 
 too rapid. The amateur solved the problem by 
 driving down iron pipes and then fixing the piles 
 in the centre. There are three branches of the 
 river. The bridge over one of them was swept 
 away not long ago. Two boys who saw it and 
 knew that a train was almost due from Christ- 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 299 
 
 church, with great presence of mind, ran down 
 the line as fast as they could go to meet the train, 
 and succeeded in stopping it. They were rewarded 
 by a gift of £ 2 ^ apiece. I crossed the river for 
 the first time at evening. The broad stream, 
 bordered by grass, reeds, and flax, was full and 
 placid with a yellow, reflected sunset. But the 
 calm beauty is deceitful. A member of Parliament 
 once estimated, in a speech in the House, the 
 number of deaths in New Zealand by drowning 
 as a thousand annually. But this must have been 
 in earlier days, when there were no bridges, and 
 the fords were less known, and the colonists less 
 experienced. Many deaths occur in taking cattle 
 across. An ox strays down stream. The driver 
 goes after it, and in his exertions to recover the 
 animal he is swept away himself. A clergyman in 
 this neighbourhood told me that in a district he 
 once had in the North Island there were six rivers, 
 and that he had known some one drowned in each. 
 In one place a young man was riding across a 
 river, and the horse stuck in a quicksand. His 
 uncle, whose house was near the brink, seeing 
 the danger, plunged into the water to rescue him. 
 They were both drowned in the presence of his 
 children, who were looking on. The horses 
 trampled them down into the quicksand. 
 
 The road bridge into Kaiapoi is not so well 
 built as the railway bridge. When it was finished 
 some one wrote on it, in large letters, “ Pons 
 Asinorum.” 
 
 The sunrise of my first day at Kaiapoi was 
 glorious. The sky was golden, with masses of 
 streaked red clouds. Over the tops of the flowering 
 
300 
 
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 veronicas, and through the branches of the gum 
 trees and pines, shone the snow of the great alpine 
 range, all lit up with rose and gold. 
 
 Four or five miles from Kaiapoi is one of the few 
 Maori villages that still exist in the South Island. 
 The inhabitants all came to church on the first night 
 of the mission, headed by their worthy deacon, 
 Mutu, who has married a Maori lady of high rank, 
 the daughter of a Rangitira ; and they attended 
 with some regularity. I always enjoyed seeing their 
 dusky, intelligent, serious faces in church. They 
 have no idea of time. The first night they came 
 two hours too soon ; and on Sunday they arrived 
 in the middle of the sermon. There are only 
 about fifteen hundred natives in the whole of the 
 islands. They were conquered and enslaved by 
 the North Islanders, but when their masters were 
 converted they were liberated and sent home. 
 
 The conversion of the South Island is a story 
 of wonderful missionary courage. It was entirely 
 the work of natives. 
 
 Te Rauparaha, the chief of Otaki, not very far 
 from Wellington, was a warrior of great ferocity 
 and renown. In the year 1824 one of his relations, 
 named Te Pehi, secured by craft a passage to 
 England on board a whaling vessel. He was 
 petted in England and presented at Court. All 
 the gifts he received he sold, and with the price he 
 purchased guns. He returned to New Zealand 
 with a large store of weapons and ammunition, 
 and at once organized an attack upon the South 
 Island. He landed in Banks’ Peninsula, and 
 there, as he deserved, he was killed in battle. 
 
 Te Rauparaha felt bound by native honour to 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 301 
 
 avenge Te Pehi’s death, and it was not an uncon- 
 genial task. He persuaded the master of a 
 schooner, the Elizabeth, to give him and his war 
 party a passage. When they reached the scene of 
 Te Pehi’s defeat, they feigned friendship and invited 
 the chief, Mauharanui, on board. The chief came 
 on board without suspicion. He was at once 
 murdered, cooked in the ship’s coppers, and eaten. 
 
 Eighteen years later, Te Rauparaha’s Christian 
 son, Tamihana, and his cousin, Matina Te Whiwhi, 
 determined to make reparation for the crime by 
 attempting the conversion of the South Island. 
 Their tour lasted fourteen months. They sailed 
 more than a thousand miles in an open boat, 
 tossing whole nights long on the waves of those 
 dangerous seas. They landed first in Banks’ 
 Peninsula, and there they began to preach. 
 According to the Maori code of vengeance their 
 lives were forfeit. They ought to have been killed ; 
 and over and over again they had patiently to 
 wait and listen to consultations whether they 
 should be put to death or not. But nothing could 
 daunt the faith and courage of these two noble 
 laymen. They traversed the whole of the South 
 Island, and practically converted all the natives. 
 When Bishop Selwyn visited the island, taking 
 Tamihana with him as a companion, he found that 
 the natives, not only in Banks’ Peninsula, but in 
 Stewart’s Island, knew the Creed, the Lord’s 
 Prayer, and the Catechism, and even in the little 
 out-of-the-way island of Ruapuke twenty persons 
 were able to read. They had never been visited 
 by a white teacher. When the bishop returned 
 to Otaki, he found the once bloodthirsty Te 
 
302 
 
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 Rauparaha busy setting up the ridge-pole of a 
 new church in his own settlement. 
 
 The population of the South Island has rapidly 
 and, in some cases, strangely diminished. 
 
 There was a flourishing native church at Inver- 
 cargill, under the superintendence of a Maori reader. 
 The man committed a crime, and then killed with 
 a hatchet a woman who he thought would reveal 
 it. The people were terrified ; they expected 
 some sudden judgment to fall upon them, and 
 they all fled for refuge to the church. Although 
 they considered it a profanation to eat in the 
 church, nothing could for a long time persuade 
 them to leave the church. They ate and slept 
 in it. At last they went to their homes. A sudden 
 epidemic broke out among them and carried them 
 all off. There was not one of them left. 
 
 On the Tuesday in Holy Week, Mutu, the 
 deacon, drove us — the clergyman of Kaiapoi, an 
 excellent Maori scholar, who is in charge of the 
 native population, and myself — to the native settle- 
 ment. The people were all standing at their doors, 
 and made polite salutations as we passed. 
 
 The little wooden church is plain but well fur- 
 nished, and the sanctuary well kept. The altar 
 furniture, as well as the violet cloth, was the gift 
 of the Kilburn Sisters. The Oxford chair, set on 
 the north side, was covered by a Maori flax shawl 
 thrown across it. It was effectively in keeping 
 with the chapel. But it is a pity that there is not 
 more native work about the place. The Maoris, 
 if they were encouraged to use their native skill, 
 might make a bijou church, far preferable to the 
 colonial, barn-like structures. The service was 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 303 
 
 most interesting. The church was full — the chil- 
 dren in the front, and their elders and the babies 
 behind. The hymns were sung to subdued Gre- 
 gorian tones, which, however, owned no allegiance 
 to St. Augustine’s master. The low, monotonous 
 wail was almost pianissimo throughout, and it was 
 so arranged that, according to the Maori chorus, 
 there should be no cessation. The deacon began. 
 At the last line he took breath, and, just before 
 the people stopped, he commenced the second verse. 
 Thus the singing proceeded without any break till 
 the end of the hymn. 
 
 I was to address the children ; and, before the 
 service, I had carefully learned a question from 
 the Catechism in the Maori language. When the 
 moment arrived, I put the question to them, end- 
 ing with the words, “Tau whakapono?” The 
 children all sat dumb, their wide, black eyes fixed 
 upon me. Not a word did they say. Then I put 
 the question in English ; “ What dost thou chiefly 
 learn from these articles of thy belief.^” And in 
 a moment there burst out a loud chorus of “ First 
 I learn,” and the rest. They knew the Catechism 
 in English much better than they knew it in their 
 own tongue. 
 
 During my stay at Kaiapoi I was every day, as 
 during the Lyttelton Mission, travelling backwards 
 and forwards to Christchurch for my cathedral 
 addresses. I finished the long course on Maundy 
 Thursday with the subject of “Salvation and 
 Heaven.” I have already spoken of Good Friday, 
 and the solemn and beautiful services at the ca- 
 thedral. The sanctuary hangings were all black. 
 The altar was draped in black, and the cross veiled 
 
304 
 
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 in crape. I preached at a plain, old-fashioned 
 service in the morning, and again at night. In the 
 afternoon the “ Reproaches ” were sung, and Canon 
 Bodington preached the “Three Hours.” The 
 service was over by half-past two, but the people 
 remained kneeling till three. The day was hot 
 as an English midsummer, and cloudless, and the 
 leaves were fast falling from the long, straight 
 avenues of poplar and sycamore. The night was 
 clear and starry, and the Southern Cross shone 
 brilliantly almost straight above us, as we returned 
 from the quiet solemnities of the church. The 
 doors of the Secularist Hall were open, and there 
 was a sound of dancing and music. On Easter 
 Even the Bishop confirmed thirty-five persons in 
 St. Matthew’s Church, most of them the result of 
 Canon Bodington’s mission in that parish. At 
 night I preached in the square. 
 
 The services on Easter Day, at the cathedral, 
 were grand and inspiriting. I enjoyed them all 
 the more as I had nothing to do but to assist at 
 an early service, to carry a pastoral staff before 
 the bishop, and to read a lesson. There were two 
 early celebrations, and a grand choral one at mid- 
 day, preceded by a procession, which entered at 
 the south door. The church was crowded, and the 
 venerable primate preached a noble sermon on 
 the Magdalene. A few graceless and untutored 
 youths had the temerity to leave the church 
 during the sermon. I wonder the earth did not 
 swallow them up. Canon Bodington preached in the 
 afternoon to the boys in the college chapel, and at 
 night in the cathedral for an hour, on the words 
 “ Raised again for our justification,” to an enormous 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 305 
 
 crowd, sitting or standing, which flocked round the 
 doors long before they were opened, and filled every 
 corner. The singing was wonderfully fine. The 
 anthem was, “ I know that my Redeemer liveth,” 
 followed by a grand Hallelujah chorus from 
 Beethoven. Two delicious trebles sang “Thou didst 
 not leave.” The flowers, the lights, the music, the 
 stately procession, and the immense multitude 
 made a glorious finish to the great Paschal festival. 
 
 X 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Although on the other side of the globe the 
 traveller experiences no giddy sensations from 
 moving (according to the necessities of European 
 imagination) with his head hanging down like a 
 fly upon the ceiling, yet his ecclesiastical sense of 
 the fitness of the universe to the immemorial re- 
 quirements of the Church is reversed. The seasons 
 are disobedient to the cherished associations of 
 memory. Nature and the Church require a new 
 accommodation in poetry and preaching. Christ- 
 mas in New Zealand is the time of hot languor 
 and odorous lilies and gorgeous gardens. Easter, 
 so far as New Zealand vegetation dies, is the time 
 for dying ; and the dying is conspicuous at Christ- 
 church, where the trees are strangers to the soil, 
 and, in faithful memory of home, weep their wet 
 
ROUND THE ROUND WORLD. 307 
 
 leaves to the ground at the season when their 
 sisters in England are timidly pushing their buds 
 into the face of the receding frost. The willows 
 that trail their long boughs in the Avon are all 
 said to be the children of the trees in St. Helena 
 that shade what was once Napoleon’s grave. 
 They are, therefore (we should expect it of 
 Frenchmen), sensitive, quick, sympathetic, and 
 radical. They are in favour of native and popular 
 customs. They have almost declared themselves 
 evergreens, and drop their leaves for a few weeks, 
 and a few weeks only, as if they were trying to 
 please both parties. But the change has not yet 
 commended itself to the oak, the elm, the birch, 
 and the plane. They follow the fashion of their 
 forefathers, and, with true conservative tenacity, 
 refuse to do in Rome what the Romans do. So 
 Easter Day is a day of Nature’s sleep or Nature’s 
 dying, not of life’s impetuous reassertion ; not the 
 time for the golden globes of the crocus and burst- 
 ing larch buds, and the rapturous scent of hidden 
 violets. But there is a compensation. The seasons 
 synchronize more nearly with the Jewish festivals. 
 A New Zealand Easter approaches the Passover. 
 It is the time for gleaning, if not for reaping. 
 Expressions in the Bible, such as “ Christ the 
 first-fruits,” which feel out of place in England, 
 appeal with a new interest to the imagination. 
 The Thursday in Easter week was the cathedral 
 harvest thanksgiving. It was a day when the 
 change of season forced itself violently upon eye 
 and ear. Good Friday and the next two days 
 were almost cloudless, a few streaks of white sail- 
 ing high up in a deep-blue sky. The thermometer 
 
308 round the round world 
 
 registered 82° in the shade ; the golden poplars 
 shone out against the blue ; and the bell-birds 
 were singing Do-Sol-Do in the parks and gardens. 
 Wednesday was intensely cold, and on Thursday 
 there was tremendous and continuous rain. The 
 roads were flooded, and in one garden the gold-fish 
 were swimming with a new sense of freedom on 
 the gravel-walks, and navigating the stable-yard. 
 
 There were, perhaps, as many as twenty persons 
 dimly scattered about the recesses of the cathedral. 
 Between the furious gusts of howling wind and 
 the crash of the battering rains, I uttered from the 
 pulpit a few chilled platitudes. Our one absorbing 
 thought was how we could manage to get as 
 “ safely in ” as the corn. 
 
 When Easter was past we felt that we were 
 within reachable distance of our mission’s end. 
 We were feeling tired, and the frequent chill and 
 damp, felt intensely in a country where heating 
 apparatus is unknown to the churches, added 
 something to the depression of weariness. We 
 were not sorry, at length, to see light at the end 
 of the wood. Our last missions in the city and 
 neighbourhood were held at St. Paul’s, Papanui, 
 and at St. John’s, and at Riccarton with Goldhurst, 
 at Prebbleton with Templeton, and at the Good 
 Shepherd’s, Philipstown, 
 
 Papanui is a suburb of Christchurch, As one 
 result of the mission a parochial guild was formed. 
 During this mission we were invited to read papers 
 on Church work before the annual conference of 
 clergy held in the college library. We were very 
 kindly received ; a vote of thanks was passed to 
 us for our work, and the primate spoke with his 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 309 
 
 usual generosity and dignified humility. At Pa- 
 panui Canon Bodington came across an unusual 
 sort of farm. It consisted of ostriches, emus, and 
 llamas. There were two broods of young ostriches, 
 one of four and the other of eight or nine. While 
 my friend was at Papanui I was a few miles away, 
 first at Riccarton, and afterwards at Prebbleton. 
 Riccarton is the parish in which Ham is situated. 
 The parsonage and grounds communicate, by a 
 long cypress avenue, with the picturesque and 
 irregular church, which has a long stone chancel. 
 The sanctuary is rich and reverently cared for. 
 
 Riccarton is a kind of Newmarket. There is 
 a grand stand, and a large racecourse and pad- 
 docks and stables. I twice gave an address 
 on the grand stand, which was not so crowded 
 as it would have been on more attractive occasions. 
 In fact, I had to give chase to my congregation, 
 who slipped in and out of the stables and under 
 or over the doors to elude this new and unfair 
 method of ecclesiastical pursuit. These dear 
 jockeys and stable-boys caught sight of a few 
 ladies as well as the parsons on the wide spaces 
 of the stand, and no wonder they were shy at the 
 combination of unfamiliar beings. 
 
 New Zealand is a great country for racing. 
 Every little township has its racecourse and its 
 two, three, four, or even five meetings in the year. 
 But, I should think, the racing is much more free 
 from harm than it is in England. It is not the 
 sport of the privileged few. It is really the sport 
 of the people. They do not merely lunch and 
 look on. The owners are much more numerous. 
 The owner is often his own jockey. The slim 
 
310 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 youths of the colony do not need to train very 
 fine in order to step with their saddle satisfactorily 
 out of the scale. All gambling and betting is 
 forbidden by law, with one exception. The one 
 exception is what is called the “ totalisator.” This 
 regulated and controlled outlet and channel for 
 the irrepressible spirit of luck and chance has 
 often been explained to me, but the thing is gone 
 from me. I can only remember that through its 
 instrumentality the sportsman can back what horse 
 he pleases, and that two and a half per cent, goes 
 to the man who works it, and seven and a half 
 per cent, to the club. In favour of the totalisator 
 it is argued that gambling and betting, which 
 could never be altogether stopped, are minimized 
 by its permission. Impersonal betting is certainly 
 preferable to charming your friend’s money straight 
 out of his pocket against his will, and the art of 
 the welsher and the sufferings of the welshed are 
 prevented. On the other hand, the recognized 
 legality of the machine is likely to invite' and 
 encourage men and boys and women to bet, who 
 otherwise would have shrunk from it. Nor has it 
 ever been shown that it is right to do evil that good 
 may come. At Riccarton paddocks each boy has 
 a racer to look after ; some have two. They 
 “ dress ” their horses twice a day — in the morning, 
 and at four o’clock in the afternoon. They told 
 me that they often got a tumble, not always on 
 “ the tan.” 
 
 During the mission, I gave an address one day 
 to a churchful of children. There was a dear 
 little friend of mine in church who always prays 
 a delightful little prayer, “ Pray God bless all the 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 3I1 
 
 missioners.” She was three years old, and had 
 never been to church before. When she went 
 home she said, “ Your garments must be always 
 white like the angels’.” Then she put all her dolls 
 in a row, and a single one in front of them, and 
 said, “ Now, I’m going to preach you a sermon, 
 
 ‘ Let your garments be always white ;’ and all the 
 dolls answered, ‘ And so they be.’ ” Another little 
 one said to her mother, “Ask the man of the 
 church to come here ; I like him.” 
 
 There was one fine day during the mission, and 
 that was the last. The sky was clear. The base 
 of the Alps was shrouded in white cloud, and the 
 peaks rose glistening sharp against the pale blue. 
 I heard one of my old friends, a tui, singing and 
 chuckling in the garden. The Riccarton Mission 
 ended with an early Communion on Saturday 
 morning, and the mission at Prebbleton began the 
 same evening. On the Sunday of the Good 
 Shepherd the church at Templeton was crowded 
 in the afternoon. It was a wonderful sight to see 
 the buggies, carts, and saddle-horses in the church 
 paddock. Here I met a friend well known to my 
 Derbyshire parishioners. He told me he came 
 out “ without a halfpenny,” and now “ he needn’t 
 work unless he likes.” He has a hundred acres of 
 his own, a house and garden, and farm buildings. 
 Another friend in the district, from Worksop, came 
 out penniless, and has now fifty acres, and is a 
 butcher as well as a farmer ; while Mr. Prebble, 
 the founder of Prebbleton, who started colonial 
 life on the same conditions, is now reputed to be 
 worth some ;£’40,000. The heavy rains had sadly 
 injured the large potato-crop. As it was found that 
 
312 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND ^YORLD 
 
 the roots spoiled a few days after being taken up, 
 the farmers left them to rot in the ground. Mr. 
 Prebble was said to have lost ;^500 by the failure 
 of the crop. 
 
 On Monday I rode again to Templeton and 
 gave an address to some sixty or eighty men at 
 the meatworks. The day was glorious. The long 
 line of snow mountains rose superbly from the 
 plain, and the Port Hills were grey with mist and 
 rolling cloud. 
 
 We were stopped on our way home near the 
 meatworks by a mob of three thousand sheep, 
 which were being driven into the adjoining pad- 
 dock. Two dogs lay in the road, sleeping on 
 guard with one eye open. The gate was opened 
 wide enough to admit a thin stream of sheep 
 running and skipping, and a man inside counted 
 them with uplifted forefinger, and shouted out the 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 313 
 
 number now and then. The poor creatures were 
 all doomed, the best to be stuffed into tins, the 
 rest to be boiled down for tallow. Only the legs 
 of mutton, the shoulders, and a little bit of the 
 loin are used for tinning. 
 
 In making the tallow, seven hundred sheep are 
 thrown at once into a huge vat, the steam is turned 
 on, and the tallow drawn off into other vats, 
 washed and boiled, and poured into coolers, and 
 thence into casks. Sometimes a poor sheep is 
 guilty of yielding only one pound of fat ; some- 
 times it gives twenty-two pounds. The interior 
 fat is made into common soap. The slaughter is 
 prodigious. They said that sixty thousand sheep 
 were killed in eleven weeks. 
 
 The manager loaded me with tinned meat, 
 which I proposed to bring home to some of my 
 farmer-friends ; but it was all stolen from me on 
 board an Australian ship. The men were very 
 hearty and attentive, and the manager gave them 
 an extra quarter of an hour in order to listen to 
 my addresses. 
 
 On the last night of the mission a poor woman 
 came to see me who, during the Riccarton Mission, 
 had dropped a written question into the inquiry- 
 box — a deep question in simple language, “ Please, 
 what becomes of the poor sinners that God cannot 
 take in at His narrow gate?” The mission ended 
 on Thursday morning. There was to be one free 
 night, and the missions at Philipstown and at St. 
 John’s were to begin on Friday. But a sou’-wester 
 set in and brought a storm of wind and an over- 
 whelming deluge of rain. Nearly seven inches of 
 rain fell in twenty-four hours. No such flood 
 
314 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 could be remembered. The rainfall of this one 
 day was greater than any whole month’s rain for 
 the last three and twenty years. The Avon and 
 the Heathcote rose and swamped roads, streets, 
 and bridges. It quite put an end to the mission. 
 I made an effort, however. My kind friends, the 
 Stanfords, procured somehow a cab, and I drove 
 in the evening to Philipstown, a suburb. For a 
 long way the road was a lake or a river ; no dry 
 land appeared. At the church I found all dark, 
 no bell ringing, and the church and parsonage 
 standing, like the primaeval world, in the water 
 and out of the water. All around was the un- 
 broken surface of a rippling lake. “ Can’t you 
 drive up to the house?” I shouted. “I don’t 
 know,” replied the driver, whose horse and cab 
 were not warranted to swim, “whether there’s a 
 bridge. The man that came out just now” 
 (presumably a parish clerk) “ fell right down. I 
 couldn’t see him for some minutes.” At last I told 
 the cabman to wait, and got out and waded through 
 the lake, poking with an umbrella to see “ whether 
 there was a bridge.” At last I reached the house 
 and learned (what I might have guessed) that 
 there was to be no service. “ You’ll find this,” 
 said the clergyman, pointing at the water, “the 
 best way.” But to me courteous niceties of direc- 
 tion appeared superfluous in the face of the 
 present realities of the universe. What was the 
 way, and what was not the way, was an idle and 
 unfruitful disquisition. Then my hat blew off, 
 and I had to splash in pursuit. Under a torrid 
 sun the bath would have been cheering and re- 
 freshing. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 3IS 
 
 The storm next day was as bad. Only one bridge 
 was passable. The boat-houses were swamped. A 
 mill-wheel was revolving in order to let the water, 
 which was up to the top of the bridge, pass. I 
 found the road a mere lake still ; so our missions 
 were postponed tilt Sunday at midday. 
 
 St. John’s Church is built of dark stone. The 
 span of the roof is wide, and there are no aisles. 
 There is a good organ and, as usual in the- South 
 Island, a surpliced choir. The clergyman had 
 been absent for rest in England, and returned at 
 the end of the mission. 
 
 The Church of the Good Shepherd is new, well 
 built of brick. The parsonage could only be ap- 
 proached on planks. The floods gradually sub- 
 sided. Men could be seen in boats with tackle, 
 clearing away floating trees from beneath the 
 bridges. The students of the college-house 
 dragged a tree down the river, and pulled it up 
 to the house for firewood. At last the weather 
 cleared. The sunsets and sunrises on the Alps, 
 all robed in snow down to the foot, were glorious, 
 and at nights there was a serene moon and frosty 
 stars. The Queen’s birthday was observed by 
 salutes of musketry, a review of volunteers in the 
 park, and a sham fight up the Waimakariri. 
 
 The day after the mission the primate, assisted 
 by the dean, celebrated the Holy Communion at 
 the cathedral for the Girls’ Friendly Society. I 
 gave an address on the Epistle. There was an 
 afternoon meeting at the society’s rooms, at which 
 Canon Bodington spoke. The Bishop of Nelson 
 was present both times. 
 
 We measured, near Christchurch, a willow. 
 
3i6 round the round world 
 
 planted originally as a hedge-stake twenty-three 
 years ago. It now measures eight feet in girth. 
 The old wire fencing has been absorbed by the 
 tree, and is now buried a foot deep within the 
 trunk. Near it was a gum tree fourteen feet round. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 317 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 All our missions in the city were now finished, 
 and on Thursday, the 27th of May, we went south 
 to take the last batch of missions at Temuka, 
 Winchester, Timaru, Geraldine, Waimate, and 
 Ashburton. How splendid the mountains were 
 that morning as we passed them in review, peak 
 after peak and ridge after ridge, with broad 
 shoulders and descending spurs white and dazzling ; 
 in front the flat, enormous plain with mobs of 
 sheep and herds of cattle among the tussocky 
 grass, and the broad shingly rivers — the Rakaia, 
 the Ashburton, the Rangitata — with bright, glitter- 
 ing water, and here and there a solitary sentinel 
 dracaena. Near the towns the fences are made of 
 gorse, which at this time were in brilliant bloom. 
 Elsewhere, if there are fences at all, they are 
 composed of wire. 
 
 Temuka and Geraldine lie within sight of each 
 other. The little church of St. Saviour at Temuka 
 was crowded to excess, people sitting with Canon 
 Bodington even inside the altar-rails. The most 
 remarkable feature of the parochial work is the 
 Sunday schools. The clergyman has devoted 
 much attention to them. He draws out an 
 
3i8 round the round world 
 
 annual syllabus, arranged in six standards, for 
 children from the age of five to the age of thirteen 
 and upward. The children are most intelligent, 
 and showed a ver>' good knowledge of their subjects 
 — a striking contrast to the undenominational 
 school at Aratapu. In the neighbourhood of 
 Temuka there is a cheese factory and a linseed 
 factory. On Ascension Day Canon Bodington 
 preached at Winchester, some four miles away. 
 The day ended with cloud, cold, rain, and darkness. 
 
 While my friend was at Temuka, I was at 
 Geraldine and Waimate. I got out of the train at 
 the Orari station, and was driven to Geraldine by 
 the clergyman of the parish. His district is 
 enormous. It includes Mount Peel and stretches 
 across the Mackenzie county to Mount Cook. I 
 remember, while we were staying at St. Paul’s 
 Vicarage in Auckland, a letter arriving from the 
 S.P.C.K., addressed to “The Reverend the In- 
 cumbent of New Zealand.” Certainly if any one 
 deserves so comprehensive a title, it is the excellent 
 priest of Geraldine. There are two churches, side 
 by side. The old wooden one is abandoned. The 
 new one, seating two hundred and fifty persons, is 
 a plain concrete building with narrow lights. It 
 stands on the bank of the Waihi creek in a fine crop 
 of luxuriant native flax. On the opposite side of 
 the road is a piece of bush swarming with delicious 
 bell-birds and comical tuis. They make quite a 
 clatter. The church is a mile and a half from the 
 parsonage, so that three services meant nine miles 
 in the day. But we sometimes drove or rode, and 
 now and then I stayed to sketch. Once, while 
 I was busy with my brushes, a hare came close 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 319 
 
 beside me and sat up. I heard a great splashing, 
 and, looking up, I saw the hare dashing right 
 through the river. The oldest house in Geraldine 
 is built of bark and roofed with thatch. It stands 
 
 in a grove of large gum trees and is inhabited by 
 a solitary old woman. Another house, where I 
 was courteously entertained, had seen many 
 changes. It was built by Sir Thomas Tancred 
 for himself. Then it became a butcher’s shop, and 
 then the Bank of Australia. The village is 
 
320 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 situated just beneath the rise of the foot-hills, or, 
 as they are called, the downs. We rode over these 
 downs through the grand bush, alive and vocal with 
 the wild melody, like flutes and jangling bells, of 
 the native- birds. Every turn of the road was a 
 picture. On one side was the alpine range, on the 
 other the vast plain, with a streak of distant blue 
 sea and a broken foreground of Vandyke-brown 
 forest ; and, over all, a glorious sky and blazing 
 sun, as if it were midsummer instead of mid- 
 winter. Primroses were blossoming in the gardens. 
 Rising at six or half-past for an early service was 
 a cold and dark proceeding, but amply repaid by 
 the splendour of the sunrise. The long, lone wall 
 of snow glowed with that indescribable rosy gold 
 which almost creates a new sense in the person who 
 sees it for the first time from Grindelwald or Cha- 
 mounix, and the lower hills were the rich mulberry- 
 pink always associated in my mind with the moun- 
 tains across the Gulf of Ajaccio. A nor’-wester sky 
 from Geraldine at sunrise is a marvellous thing. 
 A long lane of cloud fringes the sky like a partial 
 roof close alongside the Alps, reaching far away to 
 a distant horizon, and the rosy light, catching the 
 lower part of each cloud, makes an astonishing 
 and illimitable effect of aerial perspective. 
 
 On Sunday we had a full day, driving five miles 
 to a crowded wooden church at Woodbury. Some 
 people had come fifteen miles. Indeed, during 
 this mission many people — in spite of the occa- 
 sional heavy wet — came eight, ten, even fourteen 
 miles to the services, and had to ford one river 
 and several smaller but swollen creeks. 
 
 The church at Waimate, seating two hundred 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 321 
 
 and fifty, is dedicated to St. Augustine. It is 
 built of wood, and the handsome squat Norman 
 tower is the design of the clergyman. The altar 
 is richly furnished. VVaimate is on the decline, 
 and there are many deserted houses. Once there 
 were three active saw-mills ; now there are none. 
 Agriculture and sheep-farming are the chief occu- 
 pation. Mr. Studholme has a fine place and 
 possesses some fifty thousand acres. One of his 
 grooms was an old Northumbrian friend of mine. 
 He came to see me and brought a fine couple of 
 paradise ducks which he had shot for me. On 
 Ascension Day the long, flat street was full of men 
 and boys busy with tricycle races. The Waimate 
 river forces its way through a picturesque gorge, 
 broken by ravines and jutting crags, and diversified 
 with trees, dracaenas, and flax. 
 
 Dogs often find their way into the New Zealand 
 churches. I have no strong objection to them if 
 they behave well. I sympathize with St. Anthony. 
 But a small dog at Waimate was too aggressive. 
 As I walked up and down the nave giving an 
 instruction, he followed me, biting each heel 
 alternately. His erroneous views of duty caused 
 his expulsion. Perhaps I was too intolerant. On 
 the last night of the mission the congregation was 
 picturesquely increased by the presence of a 
 colonel of volunteers and his small force, who came 
 in after their drill. 
 
 It was the 8th of June when I left Waimate for 
 Ashburton. On a small lagoon I counted seven- 
 teen black swans, and there was a host of wild 
 duck. I also saw a huge hawk or eagle perched 
 on the rail by the line. It was holding up one 
 
 Y 
 
322 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 great yellow claw in front of its breast. There 
 was a waterspout hovering over the plain near the 
 foot of the hills. The day, which began cloudy and 
 dark, gradually brightened, and at midday it was 
 quite hot. I was met at the Timaru station by 
 the Archdeacon of Timaru and Westland (a big 
 archdeaconry !) and Canon Bodington. 
 
 Bishop Selwyn found Timaru “a deserted 
 whaling station, exhibiting the usual decorations 
 of such places — dilapidated try-works, broken 
 boilers, decayed oil-barrels, and ruinous cabins, far 
 worse than the generality of native dwellings.” It 
 is now a flourishing town of more than six thousand 
 inhabitants, with a good harbour protected by a 
 costly breakwater, and with many fine stone 
 buildings. But it is hot beautiful or picturesque. 
 It stands on the sea, which is faced by low yellow 
 mud cliffs. A good new church was in building. 
 The stone, not unlike Bath stone, comes from 
 Oamaru, another rising town further south. A 
 fine-grained black basalt is also worked in, and the 
 nave pillars are composed of polished Scotch 
 granite, costing only .£’14 or .5^15 apiece. The 
 clerestory is flat, weak, and meaningless, and so is 
 the west window ; but the church is, on the whole, 
 very fine, and second only to the Christchurch 
 Cathedral. The temporary church is a large work- 
 able wooden structure, seating five or six hundred 
 persons. From the porch steps an excellent view 
 of Mount Cook, with its triple peak eighty miles 
 distant, is obtained. 
 
 It was from Timaru that Mr. Green made his 
 ascent, accompanied with Swiss guides. Mr. 
 Green is an Irish clergyman. An amusing story 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 323 
 
 is told in connection with the start. At a farewell 
 tea, held the evening before, some gentleman 
 innocently asked, “But, my .dear sir, what do you 
 consider to be the use of incurring all this fatigue 
 and danger?" You might as well have asked 
 Michael Angelo what was the good of painting the 
 Creation on the roof of the Sistine Chapel. Up 
 jumped the Alpine Club hero and, with a strong 
 brogue, “ Och thin, I should think, Misther Brown, 
 ye’re one o’ those men that would just wish to live 
 until ye die.’’ 
 
 Archdeacon Harper, who is the eldest son of the 
 primate, and has had a wide experience of the 
 colony, possesses a good observatory and a grand 
 telescope presented to him by his old friends, the 
 hearty west coast diggers, among whom he was 
 for a long time stationed. Through it we were 
 shown some mighty sun-spots, measurable by tens 
 of thousands of miles across, and vast white 
 nitrogen flames. 
 
 During Canon Bodington’s stay, the Lyttelton, 
 bound for London with ten thousand frozen 
 carcases on board, foundered in the harbour, as 
 she was being towed out. It was supposed that 
 the tow-rope fouled the screw. No lives were lost. 
 The coast is very dangerous, and, until the break- 
 water was built, the harbour was not safe. A 
 monument was erected in the town “to com- 
 memorate the generous and noble self-sacrifice of 
 those who encountered the peril of death in their 
 heroic endeavour to save their fellow-men on 
 Sunday, the nth of May, 1882, when the City of 
 Perth and the Revenue were wrecked at Timaru. 
 
 ‘ Greater love hath no man than this, that a man 
 
324 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 lay down his life for his friends.’” While Canon 
 Bodington was looking at the monument a little 
 bright-eyed girl stopped, looked up, and said, 
 “ Please, sir, that last man was my father. He 
 was George Folger,” and then ran away on some 
 errand with her basket. While the lifeboat was 
 being manned for her fatal voyage, a Swede, 
 Emmanuel Nielson, came up and said to one of 
 the crew, “ Get out of that, you’re a married man. 
 I’ve got no wife nor children. Let me go.” He 
 went, and was tossed out of the boat by the 
 immense waves, supposed to have been caused by 
 an earthquake, and drowned with the rest. 
 
 Canon Bodington’s mission included addresses at 
 Sandietown, as well as at Timaru. In spite of 
 the wet the attendance was very large. On the 
 last Sunday afternoon (it was Whit-Sunday), the 
 four schools connected with St. Mary’s Church, 
 numbering six hundred children, marched with 
 their banners to church to hear a last address ; 
 and when the mission closed at night, the arch- 
 deacon read an address of thanks, signed by him- 
 self and the churchwardens on behalf of the 
 congregation. 
 
 In the box at the door was found a paper en- 
 closing ten shillings and the words, “ A trespass- 
 offering for sin brought to mind by the mission,” 
 and another enclosing a smaller sum and the 
 words, “ From one who for years past has been 
 living in total forgetfulness of God, and who 
 desires to return thanks that she has in the mission 
 found true repentance and, she trusts, true for- 
 giveness of her sins.” 
 
 When I left my friend at Timaru, my destina- 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 325 
 
 tion was Orari Gorge, where I was to spend a 
 night with Mr. Tripp at his sheep station. After 
 an hour in the train, I found a boy with two horses 
 waiting for me at the Orari station. I packed up 
 a few things in a bundle, and we rode off. 
 
 The view of the snowy range was lovely. It was 
 about half-past four, and the distance to Orari 
 Gorge was fourteen miles, so the sun had set long 
 before we got in. But a crescent moon gave a 
 fair light. The road was shingly and bad, and we 
 had to ford several small creeks. The comfortable 
 house is prettily situated just under the hills, which 
 are covered with bush ; and the bush is full of 
 bell-birds, and tuis, and Australian magpies, a 
 kind of crow with white back and patches of white 
 on the wings. We awoke in the morning to find 
 snow falling heavily and the ground all white. 
 After breakfast my kind host lent me strong boots 
 and gaiters, and we tramped about to see the place. 
 The sheep-run is a very large one. It extends some 
 twenty or twenty-five miles, and includes all the 
 “ Four Peaks ” Mountain. The sheep are merinos 
 and half-breds. We saw a number of grand 
 merinoes, with huge, curly horns like a Dutch 
 woman’s head-dress, made to walk through a solu- 
 tion of bluestone to prevent sheep-rot. There are 
 two shearings, a dry and a wet. The wet shearing 
 means the shearing of the ewes that have lambs, 
 which are then weaned and are not old enough to 
 be weaned at the earlier shearing, which takes 
 place in November. The largest number ever 
 shorn on this run in one year was forty-nine thou- 
 sand. Every Avinter some two or even three 
 thousand sheep are likely to be lost in the snow. 
 
326 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 After a heavy fall the shepherds go out to search 
 for them and dig them out. They are discovered 
 by the holes which their breath melts in the snow. 
 For the convenience of the shepherds there are 
 furnished huts at different points among the 
 hills. 
 
 The sheep are housed the night before they are 
 shorn, in order to keep the wool dry, otherwise it 
 would generate heat. The wool-shed is very like 
 a large church. There is a centre gangway, and 
 on either side of the gangway pens, like pews. 
 Then outside the pews on either side is an aisle, 
 where the shearers — twenty-eight in number — 
 work. The sheep are passed out from the pens 
 into the aisles, and when a sheep is shorn it is 
 turned out through a window into a pen outside 
 the shed ; and there the sheep are counted. A 
 shearer gets lys. 6d. or i8j. for shearing a hundred, 
 and he can shear a hundred to a hundred and 
 eighty a day. A boy at the end of the aisle 
 collects the fleeces and puts them on to a sort of 
 dresser, where a man inspects them and sorts them 
 into first combing, second combing, first clothing, 
 and second clothing, according to quality. The 
 fleeces are pressed in a screw machine and shunted 
 into a side chamber below, where they are packed 
 in large bales. It takes three men to lift a bale. 
 The bales are backed in large waggons, drawn by 
 eight horses, to the station. At the wharf the bales 
 are again pressed into one-half their bulk. 
 
 The sheep are dipped once a year in some solu- 
 tion. The mob is driven in and round a race. A 
 decoy cage full of sheep is used to tempt them on, 
 and they fall into the dip, and a man pushes them 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 327 
 
 well in. They scramble out on the other side and 
 stand in the pens, which slope back to the dip, 
 until they have done dripping. Mr. Tripp pays 
 ;£^3000 a year in wages. The men get from 20s. 
 to 30^. a week, and all found. There is a resi- 
 dent blacksmith, a saddler, a black cook, and a 
 rabbiter, who is paid i and 6 d. a skin. 
 
 The men sleep in two rooms, full of “ bunks ” 
 like a ship. They make their own candles from 
 mutton fat. Fifteen mules are kept. They are 
 more hardy, more sure-footed, and better weight- 
 carriers than horse.s. I saw two “ sun-downers ” 
 sitting round a fire in their apartment. A sun- 
 downer is a traveller who begs for a lodging at 
 sundown. By the hospitable rule of the country 
 every traveller is allowed bed and breakfast. But 
 they are expected to clear out in the morning. 
 
 I rode part of the way up the gorge. The 
 scenery is very fine. Mount Peel towers up to a 
 great height above the swift Orari river. After 
 lunch I drove to the station and reached Ash- 
 burton in the evening, and began the mission. 
 Heavy sleet, hail, and snow fell at night, and 
 there was a hard frost. 
 
 The falling snow and the keen frost, which to us 
 made a new experience of the colony and reminded 
 us of home, was all the time working a tragedy in 
 the valley of the Clarence river, north of Christ- 
 church, where Mr. Edward Lister Paske, a nephew 
 of his Excellency Sir William F. Drummond Jer- 
 vois, and Mr. Hugh James Thompson perished in 
 the snow. 
 
 There was a surveyor’s party, ten men with ten 
 horses, who left Lake Guyon in the morning, in- 
 
328 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 tending to cross Fowler’s Pass and down Jack’s 
 Pass that day. The snow was falling. By mid- 
 day they had reached the shelter of a wool-shed 
 on the way> and decided to push forward twelve 
 miles to St. James’s. Mr. Paske refused to ride, as 
 he felt quite strong, and would be warmer walking 
 than riding ; and so the horses went on, and seven 
 of the party were left in the rear. Soon, in the 
 midst of a blinding storm, they found themselves 
 in a snowdrift varying from three to five feet in 
 depth. Mr. Paske’s strength soon failed. Three 
 of the party went on to seek for assistance, and 
 the others did all they could to help Mr. Paske ; 
 they put his arms round their necks, they tried to 
 carry him, they chafed his limbs, they covered him 
 with their coats, and, when he could move no 
 more, they lay down beside him till he died. Then 
 they stretched the body out in the snow, covered it 
 with a coat, and placed their sticks at the head and 
 feet to mark the place, and went forward. Mr. 
 Thompson soon showed signs of exhaustion. His 
 companions for two hours did all they could to 
 help him forward, till they were themselves almost 
 failing. On looking round in the clear moonlight, 
 they could see, during a slight lull in the storm, the 
 dark coat over the corpse not more than a hundred 
 and fifty yards away. Meanwhile, the horses had 
 arrived at St. James’s, and a brave man named John 
 Campbell set out at once with some cart-horses to 
 succour the travellers. In two miles he met the 
 first party, gave them refreshments, and went on 
 till he found the rest only just in time. He placed 
 them on the horses, but Mr. Thompson died in 
 his arms. When they arrived at St. James’s the 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION, 
 
 329 
 
 men’s clothes, frozen in a sheet of ice, had to 
 be cut from their bodies. This was indeed a 
 month of sadness. The air seemed laden with 
 calamity. 
 
 As we came out of church after the early Com- 
 munion next morning, the view of the western 
 Alps was wild and splendid. Overhead hung a 
 dull grey cloud. Southward the long wall glowed 
 a pale orange, with a faint blue sky above. The 
 northern mountains — Mount Peel, the Four Peaks, 
 Mount Somers, and Mount Hutt — were gleaming 
 and shining, white sides and summits alternating 
 with grey shadows, and the sky mixed up with 
 the peaks, a majestic contrast of tempest and 
 serenity which Turner would have seized and 
 interpreted with joy. Later in the bright day the 
 scenery became calmer, but not less wonderful. 
 The glorious range of mountains vested in snow 
 down to their very feet, like some great procession 
 out of the Apocalypse, dazzling white with lilac 
 and tender grey shadows— blue lines of distant 
 plain, a yellow foreground of tussock and toi-toi 
 and rush, and the meshes of the swift river, clear 
 and blue grey, interlacing the broad bed of shingle, 
 and roaring with a sound like the backward sweep 
 of a summer wave. As I drank in the splendour 
 of that beauty, I little thought that at that hour 
 the Northern Terraces, the fertile valleys, the 
 blossoming bush, the fertile pastures, the rustic 
 villages of the Hot Lake district around the base 
 of the fatal Tarawera were wrecked and ruined, 
 and natives and colonists crushed and buried 
 deep beneath the stones and boiling mud from 
 the treacherous volcano. No tremor of earth- 
 
330 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 quake, no echo of explosion reached us in the 
 south ; but that night we heard the sad news, and 
 read it in the newspapers just as they did in 
 London. 
 
 During the mission I gave addresses at the 
 woollen factory, and also at the old men’s home — 
 not called, like the kindred institution in Christ- 
 church, by the peculiar name of the Depot. There 
 were fifty men of all sorts. Many had seen 
 better days. One had lost a fortune of 100,000. 
 A dozen were said to be atheists ; but these names 
 are, as I have said before, often lightly or unjustly 
 given. My poor friends, who crept out to the 
 sunshine or sat patiently resigned while I spoke 
 to them about the Nunc Dimittis, were perhaps 
 less atheists then than they were when they could 
 write large cheques and order their lives in their 
 own fashion. The long monotony of their age, 
 not unrelieved by charity, was instilling, we 
 must believe, some deeper lessons, effectual and 
 slow. 
 
 On these grand, frosty days ice remained in the 
 river even at midday. A fortune might be made 
 by polishing the lovely pebbles, green, black, and 
 red, from the bed of the river. One afternoon I 
 saw two men riding with a pack of beagles. They 
 hunt twice a week. There was a sale of horses 
 going on in “ Bullock’s Arcade.” A young fellow 
 was riding a horse to show it, when it bolted with 
 him furiously out of the arcade and down the 
 street. He soon pulled it up, and turned it round. 
 Then it lashed out like lightning several times with 
 its heels. The boy never moved an inch, and 
 looked as unconcerned as if he had been in an 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 331 
 
 armchair. There was a large crowd of men at the 
 sale. 
 
 The mission — the last in New Zealand — ended 
 on Whit-Sunday. I was in church nearly all day, 
 from half-past eight in the morning till ten at 
 night. The people tried to make up for a rather 
 slack attendance by crowding in on the last day. 
 On that night a vessel, the Ly-ee-tnoon, was wrecked 
 at Green Cape, between Melbourne and Sydney, 
 and seventy lives were lost The huge waves kept 
 sweeping over the deck and washing off the ex- 
 hausted passengers one after another. 
 
 Before daybreak I left Ashburton station. My 
 kind friend, Mr. Otway, who, during the incumbent’s 
 absence in England, was in charge of the Church, 
 came to bid me good-bye, and gave me as a 
 souvenir a selection of Mrs. Browning’s poems. 
 Nothing could have pleased me more. I often take 
 up the volume, and, as I repeat some of those 
 noble, pathetic, and Christian lines which I first 
 read that cold and glorious morning, I remember 
 with a sense of regret and love the deep impressions 
 left upon me by the sights and sounds of that dear 
 country, and the warm, responsive hearts of those 
 good, indulgent friends, who loved me because I 
 came to them from the old home and the old 
 Church of their childhood’s memory. 
 
 I suppose I must not speak again of the Alps, 
 even to bid them farewell, nor say how in that 
 Whitsun sunrise the living light leaped and glowed 
 from peak to peak for more than a hundred miles, 
 like some swift and glorious Lampadephoria, an 
 emblem of the “clear light and true knowledge” 
 of the Catholic faith leaping along the unbroken 
 
332 
 
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 chain of the Church’s eternal Whit-Sundays, un- 
 diminished, and growing from dawn to day. 
 
 I will only say that if any artist wants to make 
 a picture, let him humbly try to paint Mount Hutt 
 from the bridge over the Rakaia. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 My last afternoon was entirely taken up by seeing 
 people at my “home” at the College House; 
 and at night the diocesan missions ended, as 
 they had begun, with impressive solemnity in the 
 cathedral. The service was a thanksgiving and 
 farewell. The bishop, the dean, the archdeacons, 
 the canons, a large number of the parochial clergy, 
 and a vast congregation assembled. The music 
 was grand and faultlessly sung. After the anthem, 
 “ How beautiful upon the mountains,” Canon 
 Bodington preached on the spirit of bondage and 
 the spirit of adoption, and at the close spoke 
 of the future of New Zealand. When the sermon 
 was ended the dean came down from his stall and 
 stood in front of the screen. The bishop came 
 down from his throne and stood at the top of the 
 chancel steps, facing the dean and the congregation. 
 
334 
 
 ROUxXD THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 My friend and I stood on each side of the bishop, 
 and then the dean read to the bishop an address 
 from the clergy, thanking us for the mission. 
 
 We felt especially grateful for the words “the 
 simplicity and directness with which they have 
 preached the gospel of our Lord and Master, Jesus 
 Christ.” “ It may not be our lot,” the address 
 ended, “to meet them again face to face in this 
 life, but we rejoice in the hope that our fellowship 
 with them in the Communion of Saints may never 
 be interrupted, either in this world or in that which 
 is to come.” The bishop replied shortly, with great 
 dignity and humility, and then Canon Bodington 
 said, “ Our feelings are too strong, my lord, to 
 allow us to say much ; only, as you gave us authority 
 when we first arrived to conduct these missions, 
 so now we beg you before we leave to give us your 
 benediction.” We knelt before him, and he laid 
 his hand on us, and blessed us, saying, “ Now the 
 God of peace, that brought again from the dead 
 our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, 
 through the blood of the everlasting covenant, 
 make you perfect in every good work to do His 
 will, working in you that which is well-pleasing in 
 His sight, through Jesus Christ.” “Through the 
 night of doubt and sorrow” was sung as the pro- 
 cession left the cathedral. 
 
 I was packing my luggage till four in the morn- 
 ing, and at half-past seven I celebrated in the 
 cathedral. There were thirty communicants. The 
 bishop, assisted by the dean and canons, celebrated 
 again at ten, and I gave an address based on one 
 of Dr. Westcott’s, on the Gospel for the day — the 
 one flock in the one fold under the one Shepherd — 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 335 
 
 “ I am the Door ; by Me if any man enter in he 
 shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find 
 pasture.” There was a grand congregation, and 
 the verger counted one hundred and seventy 
 communicants, but the Lyttelton Times said there 
 there were three hundred or four hundred. Although 
 my address was short, and not a note of music 
 was sung, the service occupied two hours. It was 
 quite a surprise, a touching and almost over- 
 whelming conclusion to the mission. 
 
 I may quote here without any breach of confi- 
 dence a few lines, referring to the scope and effect 
 of the mission in this diocese. The first quotation 
 is from the letter of a clergyman in the diocese 
 who attended only as a hearer. He writes, “ Would 
 that the clergy were united in one combined effort 
 to teach Church doctrine everywhere with precision 
 and definiteness. This is the need of our age. 
 The Church would then be irresistible, and would 
 conquer everywhere.” 
 
 The next is from a lady, “ Let me tell you what 
 I learned ; only you must not think it came to me 
 all at once. Being naturally slow at taking in 
 a new thought, I have been learning it gradually 
 all these weeks, and am still going on learning it. 
 You told me God loved me. That I knew before ; 
 only I did not pay much attention to it. But, 
 besides that, you taught me that He liked loving 
 me and making me happy. Now, that never came 
 into my mind before. I never used to think, 
 ‘ God likes me to have this ; He is pleased for me 
 to enjoy that.’ It was a new thought for me, and 
 at first I was afraid of it, as I always am of any- 
 thing unusual. It was such an effort to take hold 
 
336 
 
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 of it. Now, it has brought a new happiness into 
 my life. I like every one better than I ever did 
 before, and I am so happy that I am always want- 
 ing to sing.” 
 
 The third is also from a lady : “ I hope I shall 
 always be deeply thankful that my steps were 
 directed to Christchurch at this time. ... I can 
 and do say the whole of the Creed now . . . be- 
 cause I no longer fear that falsehood lurks in my 
 words.” And then, referring to a private interview : 
 “ I learnt more from you that day than any words 
 you spoke would account for.” 
 
 I am grateful to these writers for expressing on 
 the one hand so concisely and so beautifully the 
 importance and the need of definite teaching, and, 
 on the other, the evangelical result of the full 
 acceptance of the Catholic faith, and also the way 
 in which — we gratefully believe — that result is 
 produced, when the words of the teacher only float 
 as feathers in the great river of grace, the wide 
 wind that blows where it lists. “ Thy way is in 
 the sea, and Thy paths in the great waters ; and 
 Thy footsteps are not known. Thou leddest Thy 
 people like sheep by the hand of Moses and Aaron.” 
 
 We left Christchurch soon after two o’clock. 
 The good bishop, the dean, the archdeacon, ana 
 others came to say good-bye at the station, and 
 another little party came with us in the train to 
 Lyttelton to wave us a last farewell. 
 
 Our vessel was called the Wairarapa. She had 
 the good fortune to be burned off Gisborne not 
 long ago by the upsetting of a lamp, so we had the 
 advantage of perfectly new fittings. 
 
 A sou’-wester came on with rain, but half the 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 337 
 
 sky was clear. There was a bright, hazy glow over 
 the Alps, which came in view beyond the Sumner 
 beach and the wide-stretching plain, as we left 
 the Lyttelton Heads. On the other side the sky 
 was stormy, with long streaks of rain stalking over 
 the mountains. 
 
 There was a strong head wind, so that we had 
 no rolling in spite of the storm. In the morning 
 we could see westward a range of dark, hilly coast- 
 line, with snow mountains gleaming behind. We 
 gradually drew nearer to land — low hills covered 
 with bush. We entered the Port Chalmers Gulf, 
 passing close to the land on the left — low green 
 hills with grass and bush and smooth sand by the 
 sea. The hills are higher at Port Chalmers. The 
 small town rises prettily on the slope, commanded 
 by a good Presbyterian church. Here we landed, 
 and went by train to Dunedin, so called after 
 Edinburgh. It was a Presbyterian colony, founded 
 a year before Christchurch, but after Christchurch 
 had been proposed. For a long time the inhabitants 
 would not allow any English Churchmen to land, but 
 turned them back. When a bishop was appointed 
 they were furious. They had a great meeting which 
 lasted till after midnight. They finally resolved 
 to call the new-comer Bishop Nevill, but they 
 would call their own chief ministers the same. 
 “ We are all of us bishops,” they cried. 
 
 The public buildings are fine, and the streets 
 resemble Queen Street, Auckland. “ First Church ” 
 is an imposing building, with a really good but 
 curious spire. There is a certain thinness about 
 the architecture, as there always is about all but 
 Catholic architecture. 
 
 z 
 
338 
 
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 From the station at Dunedin we trudged up a 
 picturesque and muddy valley through the rain 
 to Bishopsgrove, where we were hospitably enter- 
 tained. The house is built of brick, faced with 
 white stone and wood. The windows are hand- 
 somely mullioned. Inside the same richness and 
 art are conspicuous. A broad staircase of red pine 
 fronts the door, and the walls and roof are panelled 
 with wood. The house was designed by the bishop, 
 who is an artist in more than one branch of art. 
 Behind the house is an orphanage where the 
 bfshop maintains twelve little girls. The house and 
 an extensive property adjoining it are his private 
 possession. A stream full of trout tumbles along 
 through bush, ferns, and tree-ferns at the bottom of 
 the lawn, receiving a noisy tribute from a gushing, 
 showery cascade. The garden and shrubberies are 
 vocal with bell-birds and thrushes. The snow on 
 the high hills added a special beauty to the view. 
 
 On the following day the bishop took us to 
 see the town and the churches. The brick 
 church of All Saints has, besides a school, a 
 good block of land attached to it, which might 
 be utilized for a cathedral, and it would be fairly 
 central. We next visited St. Matthew’s, a cold- 
 looking interior, and St. Paul’s on the hill-side. 
 Then we mounted, in what I believe is the steepest 
 tram in the world, the high hill to Roslyn Church 
 and parsonage, commanding a panorama of the city 
 and the gulf and hills beyond, and the narrow neck 
 of land and the sweeping shore against which the 
 ocean was dashing white waves. Here we stayed 
 till it was time to go down to the opening of a 
 new school-room. In the town I saw at a poul- 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 339 
 
 terer’s shop a quantity of kaka parrots hanging 
 for sale at one and sixpence the pair — lovely 
 birds, red or orange under the wing, the breast 
 rich green and brown, and the feathers of the 
 back crimson-tipped and purple — the same sort 
 of effect as the plumage of a pheasant. 
 
 When we returned to Port Chalmers we found 
 our old friend the Kaikoura drawn up to the 
 wharf. There were also three whalers just arrived 
 from their voyages ; one, the Splendid, had taken 
 nineteen whales. After a rough night we entered 
 a very narrow passage — the harbour of the Bluff, 
 which is the port of Invercargill, some twenty miles 
 away. The strong current of the tide makes the 
 entry dangerous, and no vessel will come in after 
 dark. There is a large wooden jetty, where we drew 
 up to take in a cargo of oats and oysters. A more 
 miserable place it is not possible to imagine. Flat, 
 dreary hills surround a desolate lagoon. The Bluff 
 implies a fine headland, but it is nothing of the 
 sort. We steamed out at sunset and passed an 
 island and a lighthouse on a rock. Ahead we 
 could see the dusky outline of the mountains of 
 Stewart’s Island wrapped in storm. Here there 
 are saw-mills and fisheries. They dry the cod and 
 other fish, and export it to Australia. Our oysters 
 came from there. It is also famous for the mutton 
 birds, which are captured young. My informant 
 said, “ When you eat the back you’d think you was 
 eating a mutton-chop ; and the belly, you’d think 
 you was eating a fish.” Bishop Selwyn says, “ The 
 native mode of preserving it is to boil it down, and 
 then to tie it up in its own oil in kelp bags formed 
 of the large air-vessels of common seaweed.” 
 
BOOK IV. 
 
 THE VOYAGE HOME. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It was Saturday — the next day was Trinity 
 Sunday, the 20th of June, when the Queen entered 
 on the jubilee year of her reign. We felt, however, 
 the reverse of jubilation, for as we left the land and 
 entered upon our South Sea voyage we launched 
 upon an awful and prolonged storm. The alba- 
 trosses and boobies enjoyed it. The storm was 
 really frightful. The sea looked like black marble, 
 veined and streaked with white, the whole surface 
 lined with the crests of curling waves and patterned 
 
ROUND THE ROUND WORLD. 
 
 341 
 
 with foam. The wind was terrible, roaring and 
 shrieking, lifting great masses of water and whirling 
 them in drenching showers over the deck, till there 
 was not a dry thread anywhere. The lower deck 
 was deluged by floods of water, which washed and 
 swirled among the oyster barrels, standing lashed 
 by ropes to the side of the vessel. The water, too 
 much to escape, stood sometimes a foot or two 
 deep. When the sun came out, now and then, 
 in bright, cold, watery gleams, there was a rain- 
 bow on the horizon and a succession of rapidly 
 formed and rapidly dissolving rainbows in the 
 sheet of foam that flew over the ship. A sail was 
 set on the foremast to steady us. But the word 
 “ steady ” does not describe our condition. We 
 gave the most awful and sudden lurches. The 
 wind whistled like a child blowing on a tin trumpet, 
 and outside there was a perpetual roaring and 
 banging, while all the vessel creaked and strained. 
 Now and then came a royal salvo of artillery. It 
 seemed impossible for any ship to stand such a 
 battering. It is easy to conceive how a vessel 
 on the rocks, incapable of yielding to the blows, 
 is quickly broken up. The captain said it was 
 the worst storm he has had since August, and 
 that a sailing ship would have been obliged to 
 heave to. 
 
 Some time ago. Cooper’s Menagerie was on 
 board this vessel. The animals were down in the 
 hold, under the charge of one man. The man was 
 awoke at night by a tiger walking over him. The 
 beast, however, got back into its cage without 
 doing any mischief. Next night the captain, walking 
 on deck, put his hand down on a soft, furry coat. 
 
342 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 It proved this time to be only a large ape. The 
 performers were terribly frightened of the weather, 
 and promised the captain all their jewellery if he 
 would only land them safe. He heard no more 
 of the jewellery, however, when they landed at 
 Hobart Town. 
 
 At Hobart Town we spent St. John’s Day, and 
 reached Melbourne, two days later. It was 
 Saturday, and in the evening we went by train 
 to Albury, on the INIurray river, the frontier village 
 on the borders of Victoria and New South Wales, 
 celebrated for its vineyards. The church was well 
 filled with people on Sunday morning, and in the 
 afternoon w'e started for Sydney, and steamed 
 through interminable miles of gum trees, and past 
 hamlets and villages bearing such uncouth names 
 as Yambla, Gerogory, Dudal Gooma, Yerong 
 Creek, and Junee, not to speak of the town of 
 Wagga-Wagga, famous in connection with the 
 claimant of the Tichborne estate. We arrived at 
 Sydney on Monday morning, where we were 
 hospitably entertained for two days by the primate 
 at Bishopscourt, a charming house built on the 
 crest of a steep hill, overlooking on one side a 
 gully of tangled bush and the blue sea, and on the 
 other side the distant, gleaming, white houses of the 
 great city. 
 
 The cathedral is dedicated to St. Andrew. 
 It was built about forty years ago, with a kind 
 of idea of reproducing Westminster Abbey. 
 The towers would have been something like it, 
 only they were cut down to avoid expense. The 
 chancel is not raised above the nave, and there are 
 only a few steps to the altar, which is mean. The 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 343 
 
 general view of the nave is good, and the pillars 
 are lofty, but the transepts are senselessly narrow, 
 and the stained glass is bad. The east window 
 has an Ascension. There are the twelve Apostles, 
 and prominently in front of them is a mysterious 
 thirteenth figure with a red beard. This can only 
 be Judas Iscariot. It was, however, originally the 
 Blessed Virgin Mary. But, when the authorities 
 saw this figure, they were so shocked and dismayed 
 that they packed it up and sent it back to England 
 with orders to cut off the Virgin’s head. It reminds 
 one of another well-known tragedy, Hamlet — 
 
 “An exact command, 
 
 Larded with many several sorts of reasons, . . . 
 
 That, on the supervise, no leisure bated. 
 
 No, not to stay the grinding of the axe, 
 
 (The) head should be struck off. 
 
 Hor. Is’t possible ? ” 
 
 By “ the authorities,” I do not mean the bishops 
 of Sydney, but the laymen, who discipline their 
 bishops (as commonly in the colonies) with a rod 
 of iron. All their service is with rigour. 
 
 We steamed away from the lovely Sydney 
 Harbour in the Maranoa on Wednesday, the 30th 
 of June, and were kindly welcomed by the Bishop 
 of Brisbane at Brisbane, on the 2nd of July. 
 During our ten days’ stay at Bishopsbourne we 
 held a mission in St. John’s Pro-cathedral, and a 
 Retreat for clergy in the bishop’s own private 
 chapel, and also preached in most of the churches 
 of the city, and gave addresses at the Foundry on 
 Kangaroo Point. We left Brisbane in the Duke of 
 Westminster, on the 12th of July, and it was sixty 
 days before we sighted England. Our route was 
 through the Torres Straits. It is quite the most 
 
344 
 
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 interesting way home from Australia. There is so 
 much to be seen. The vessel glides through the 
 still waters inside the great Barrier Reef, and passes 
 in review all the eastern coast-line of the great 
 continent-island. Our cargo increased and varied 
 as we progressed. We took in wool at Port Alma ; 
 frozen meat, hides, tallow, and silver ore at Poole 
 Island ; ingots of silver and blocks of tin at Port 
 Douglas ; mother-of-pearl at Thursday Island ; 
 coffee, tea, sugar, and rice at Batavia ; and cocoa- 
 nuts and satinwood at Colombo. Port Alma is at 
 the mouth of the Rockhampton river. Not far 
 
 BRISBANE. 
 
 away is the richest gold-mine in the world. This 
 “ mountain of gold,” as it is called, was originally 
 bought by a shepherd for about three farthings an 
 acre. It is reckoned to contain a clear profit of 
 about nine millions sterling. Three hundredweight 
 of gold were brought in the week that we were in 
 that neighbourhood. The gold from this mine is 
 said to be the only gold that has ever been found 
 unalloyed with silver. 
 
 Whit-Sunday Pass, so named by the plucky old 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 345 
 
 Christian, Captain Cook, who returned this way 
 from his discovery of New Zealand, and who never 
 forgot his prayers or his Church calendar however 
 far away he might happen to be, is like fairyland — 
 
 — “ Sprinkled isles, 
 
 Lily on lily that o’erlace the sea.’ 
 
 Green lawns, feathery woods, purple masses of rock 
 overhung with pines, broken precipices of red 
 stone, and coves of sandy beach — the combina- 
 tion remind one of some of the salt-water lakes 
 in the West Highlands of Scotland ; but, unlike 
 them, there is no sign of human habitation, except 
 on one islet where there is a comfortable light- 
 house. The hills look as if they would afford 
 excellent pasture for sheep. 
 
 At Poole Island I had the joy of landing on a 
 tropical shore, and bringing away a whole sack- 
 ful of coral of all sorts and sizes, enough to furnish 
 completely a cabinet in England, as well as a 
 number of beautiful shells. After leaving Port 
 Douglas the scenery began to be very grand 
 indeed. 
 
 The north boundary of the bay is formed by 
 Snapper Island and Cape Kimberley. Snapper 
 Island is a group of steep, richly wooded rocks with 
 grass slopes and, here and there, a small sandy 
 cove. This exquisite foreground was backed by 
 a grey pile of mountains wreathed in mist. The 
 remainder of the coast until the sun set was a 
 magnificent, ever-shifting panorama of lofty moun- 
 tains bathed in white floating mist, with wooded 
 hills and trees fringing the water. The Alexandra 
 range is crowned by the superb peak called 
 “Thornton’s Peak.” Over the shoulder of the 
 
346 
 
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 mountain appears the quaint, crooked horn named 
 “ Pieter Botte,” after the mountain in Mauritius, 
 and further north is Cape Tribulation. For rich- 
 ness of outline, for softness of vegetation, and for 
 rugged grandeur of mountain range, this must be 
 one of the finest bits of coast in the world. 
 Cape Tribulation was so named by Captain Cook, 
 who knocked a hole in his ship, the Endeavo2ir, on 
 a rock not far away. “ It appeared,” he says, 
 
 “ that the rocks had cut through four planks into 
 the timbers, and that three other planks were 
 damaged. In these breaches not a splinter was to 
 be seen, the whole being smooth, as if cut away by 
 an instrument ; but most providentially the vessel 
 was preserved by a very singular circumstance. 
 Though one of the holes was large enough to have 
 sunk her, even with eight pumps constantly at 
 work, yet it was partly stopped up by a fragment 
 of the rock, which remained sticking in it. They 
 likewise found that some oakum and wool had got 
 between the timbers and stopped the parts of the 
 leak that the stone had left open.” Weary Bay 
 and Endeavour Bay repeat the same tale. 
 
 The scenery near Cape York, with its countless 
 islands some of which are named after every day 
 of the week from Sunday to Friday, is not so 
 majestic, but wonderfully picturesque. Fly Point 
 and Albany Island are covered with tall, pointed 
 ants’ nests as big as wigwams. They look quite 
 like a village scattered on the green sward. Near 
 here the Dacca steamed past us. A few years 
 afterwards she was wrecked in these treacherous 
 waters. We could see wrecks on either side of us ; 
 here the boilers of an engine just showing above 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 347 
 
 the surf, and there the masts of a sailing vessel 
 leaning over a fatal rock. The sea is haunted by 
 pearl-fishing boats, that scud along under two 
 brown sails and a jib. “These are the men to 
 hold on to a boat,” remarked one of our passengers, 
 who had been for many years a sailor and knows 
 the coast well. There are seven men and a diver 
 on each boat. The diver, who can go down twenty 
 fathoms, is paid £20 a month and a percentage 
 on what he gets. Sometimes he makes ;^400 a 
 year. The shells are large and flat, a foot in 
 diameter, something between an oyster and a 
 pecten. The outside is of a grey-green colour, in 
 thin flakes ; the inside is a broad, round, flat sheet 
 of lustrous mother-of-pearl. These shells sell in 
 London at ^^140 to £200 a ton. Pearls of great 
 beauty are often found in them. 
 
 We landed on Thursday Island, and then headed 
 across the Gulf of Carpentaria for Java and Ceylon. 
 We went out through the newest part of the world 
 and returned through the oldest. We went out 
 through America, and came back through Asia. 
 The very ships emphasize the thought. Our first 
 voyage was on a vessel of the Cunard line, with 
 a saloon full of Yankees and a steerage crowded 
 with emigrants. Our voyage home was on a 
 British-Indian steamer, manned and served by 
 Orientals and Mahomedans, and in the saloon a 
 double-fringed Eastern punkah rollicked to and 
 fro to cool the hot air. 
 
 Across the two thousand miles of the shallow 
 Arafura Ocean and the Sea of Timor, alive with 
 water-snakes and white clouds of flying-fish and 
 schools of skip-jacks, we steamed westward, with 
 
348 
 
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 cuttlefish and yellow seaweed floating round us. 
 The nights were so brilliant and the surface of the 
 sea so calm, that even the Milky Way was reflected 
 in the water, and on our right and left the constella- 
 tions of the Great Bear and the Southern Cross 
 balanced each other in the sky, and seemed to 
 divide the empire of night between them ; and over 
 our bows, through the spars and rigging, the great 
 globe of Jupiter glowed like a moon. There was 
 a fresh, reposeful sound of water rushing from the 
 bows and along the sides of the vessel, and all 
 through the long, silent watches, the hours, struck 
 in treble on the bridge, were faithfully answered 
 by the steady, never-failing tenor of the fo’c’stle 
 bell. We glided through this glorious region, 
 past Timor and Sandalwood, Sumbawa, Lombok, 
 Musa Pandita, and Baly, gleaming by night with 
 the sullen, intermittent glare of volcanic fire, and 
 by day magnificent with huge, blue domes and 
 cones rising above the white clouds to the height 
 of ten and twelve thousand feet. The rival peaks 
 of Lombok and Baly are the wardens of two 
 worlds. Between them is a deep chasm, a sudden 
 rift in the bed of the sea. The soundings pass 
 suddenly from 224 fathoms to 1129. This gulf is 
 the boundary between two zoological regions, the 
 Indian and the Australian. The fauna of Baly is 
 quite dififerent to the fauna of Lombok. There are 
 no two regions in the world which differ more. One 
 is the region of tigers, the other the region of 
 kangaroos, and yet the channel is less than ten 
 miles across. The boundary line extends from 
 here up the Strait of Macassar. 
 
 As we skirted the island of Madura, the sea and 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 349 
 
 the shore sparkled in the sunshine, and countless 
 fishing prows with lateen sails and bamboo out- 
 riggers shot to and fro, with the sail almost sweep- 
 ing the water, and men standing on the outriggers 
 to balance the little craft. They measure the 
 breeze by describing it as a “ one-man ” breeze 
 or a “ two-men ” breeze, according to the number 
 of men required on the outriggers. Bamboo 
 floats were tossing on the waves with nets attached 
 to them. One float was standing almost upright 
 in the water, as though there were a good haul of 
 fish in the net, and no doubt one of the swift, bird- 
 like boats would soon dart upon its prey. 
 
 We cast anchor in Priok Harbour, and spent the 
 next day in Batavia. 
 
DREDGE ON THE SUEZ CANAL, 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 There are now about twenty million inhabitants 
 in Java, of whom about one-twentieth live at the 
 capital ; but the charm of the place is that you 
 would never think it. The streets — if it is not 
 dishonouring to their beauty to call them by so 
 vulgar a name — swarm with people, but the houses 
 are so buried in a 
 
 “ Boundless contiguity of shade,” 
 
 that a traveller might well imagine himself to be 
 in a large village. We walked about and drove in 
 a carriage drawn by Timor ponies for six hours, 
 yet even now I cannot imagine where the houses 
 can be. The city is more like what ancient 
 Babylon must have been than a modern capital. 
 It is a spacious garden, with avenues, canals, 
 parks, groves, and promenades. The heat was 
 89° in the shade, but everything suggested cool- 
 ness. The walls are white ; the houses, with their 
 
ROUND THE ROUND WORLD. 
 
 351 
 
 porticoes and pillars, are white. The bridges, 
 if they are not built of bamboo, are white, and so 
 are the canal banks. But the white does not glare, 
 because it is broken up and tempered by the 
 delicious shade of palms, mimosas, figs, bananas, 
 and flowering shrubs, and by airy lattices and 
 awnings, and broad -leaved ferns and choice plants, 
 and relieved by the exquisite variety of colour in 
 the flowing dresses of the people. It would be an 
 injustice to say that the prevailing colour of their 
 dresses was not white, very beautifully white ; and 
 if they added no colour, there would still be variety, 
 because their dark-brown skins, of which many of 
 them show the greater part, would break the 
 monotony. But next to white, the prevailing hue 
 is rose colour, and rose colour is only a single 
 name for a host of delicate and glowing tints, from 
 a deep, rich, rose madder to a pale, pink blush. 
 
 The streets, full of these Chinese, Javanese, 
 Malays, and Indians, look like the rich spring 
 flower-garden, crowded with bright blossoms, that 
 Cowper describes in the last book of the “ Task.” 
 
 All the carrying is done by men. I do not 
 remember seeing a single cart. There were plenty 
 of gaily painted little carriages like small country 
 carts, with awnings, but these were only private 
 carriages or cabs. There was no sound of lumber- 
 ing wheels as in London or Manchester. 
 
 The men carry their loads, hay, fruit, bread, 
 vegetables, crockery, faggots, or poultry, suspended 
 from a light pole across their shoulders, in large, 
 airy baskets of split bamboo. If they wish to 
 attract customers, they use a little hollow rattle 
 the size of a large pipe. The turkeys and geese 
 
352 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 are carried comfortably in a sitting posture, bound 
 round the middle with green strips of leaf or grass, 
 with their feet dangling below. The bearers 
 look something like falconers in the olden time. 
 Those that sell cakes, rice, or sweetmeats provide 
 their customers with a sweet, green plate cut fresh 
 from a broad, cool banana leaf. We stood for a 
 few minutes at a small row of Chinese shops over- 
 shadowed by broad trees, to watch a fruit-seller, 
 who, amid a group of brightly dressed natives, 
 with upturned faces, was tempting the wild birds 
 down with a piece of pomelo or banana. But the 
 birds did not come down while we lingered. They 
 fluttered among the leaves in longing agitation, but 
 were not overcome by the enchantments. We were 
 reminded of Hotspur’s answer to the boast of 
 Owen Glendower that he could “ call spirits from 
 the vasty deep ” — 
 
 “ WEy so can I, or so can any man. 
 
 But will they come when you do call for them ? ” 
 
 An avenue of tall trees, covered with orchids, led 
 us under an imposing, white archway in the style 
 of old Temple Bar, with two black, ungainly, classic 
 heroes in a niche on either side. It was like a 
 frontispiece to Dryden’s “ Virgil.” Here we saw 
 soldiers in blue, and with no weapon except a 
 short Roman sword. Policemen, too, there were, 
 with short-tailed coats like German postboys, pro- 
 fusely ornamented with broad orange braid. We 
 stopped on the bridge of a canal to look at the 
 view. To our right were moored two or three 
 thatched barges of rich Vandyke-brown close to 
 the white walls and tiled roofs, and backed by 
 groups of cocoa-nut reflected in the water. On 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 353 
 
 the left were many barges moored close together, 
 and crowded with busy, brilliant, black-backed 
 men. Near them was a small fleet of canoes filled 
 with standing figures. They reminded us of 
 Raphael’s cartoon of the miraculous draught of 
 fishes. I never saw the same effect anywhere else ; 
 the narrow, shallow boats, and the men, tall out of 
 all proportion. A few steps further we knocked 
 over the dead body of a snake in the dust. There 
 are countless snakes. As a man said to me at 
 Thursday Island, “ You can’t go wrong for 
 snakes.” 
 
 We looked for alligators, but saw none ; but we 
 saw a man nearly up to his neck in water, painting 
 his boat. This was no decisive proof, however, that 
 there were no alligators ; for natives go shrimping, 
 we were told, with nets in the harbour, and these 
 reptiles paddle after them, and when the fisherman 
 accidentally catches a small fish among his prawns, 
 he kills it and chucks it over his shoulder without 
 looking round, conscious of his attendant saurian. 
 The ingenious brute knows that if he attacked 
 the man, he would be killing the goose with the 
 golden eggs, and so contents himself by gobbling 
 up the fish ; an instance of what Mr. Drummond 
 would call “ semi-parasitism.” 
 
 The canal is very neat, bricked and plastered 
 white, topped with grass, and intersected at regular 
 intervals by flights of brick steps. On these steps 
 were women and children washing their clothes, 
 and men and boys washing themselves. I suppose 
 the water has cleansing properties, but it is thick 
 and yellow, and certainly cannot possess the 
 attributes of Pears’ soap, according to the pictured 
 
 2 A 
 
354 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 advertisements of changing the Ethiopian’s skin. 
 The streets are watered by carriers, who have 
 two buckets slung across their shoulders. These 
 buckets have long bamboo spouts with roses. It 
 is a cool and grateful occupation. 
 
 We left -Priok on the last day of July, and 
 rounded the end of Java through the Straits of 
 Sunda. 
 
 In the distance we could see on our right the 
 long low island of Thwartway, with a wide gap in 
 the middle of it. This gap was made by the 
 great wave which followed the eruption of 1883. 
 It was a hundred feet high. It swept right over 
 Thwartway like a deluge, and tore out the centre 
 of the island as it passed. This is only one of 
 many ^d monuments of that terrible day. 
 
 On our left came into view the lighthouse and 
 harbour of Merak, which was built after the 
 destruction of Anjer. The town and lighthouse of 
 Anjer were swept off the face of the earth in one 
 moment by the huge wave. Almost at the same 
 time, we saw the author of all these disasters. 
 Krakatoa was once a fertile, inhabited island ; now 
 it is a desolate rock. It is simply one side of a 
 split cone rising sheer out of the water more than 
 a thousand feet. The other half of the cone is 
 blown away. It was a literal example of saying 
 “ to this mountain. Be thou removed, and be thou 
 cast into the sea.” The huge mass was blasted 
 away by the tremendous explosion and deposited 
 several miles to the north, completely blocking up 
 the channel. A new survey was made,and new charts 
 issued, so that now ships, which used to pass to the 
 north, are forced to sail south between the mainland 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 355 
 
 and the island. To the east of Krakatoa rises 
 a finer cone, the island of Sebesie. On both of 
 these summits was a stream of dull, white, volcanic 
 smoke, which the fresh wind, rising into a stiff 
 breeze, blew off westward into a trailing cloud like 
 the smoke of an engine, pointing tbwards the Peak 
 of Rajah Massa in Sumatra, which rose more than 
 four thousand feet high, wrapped in a grand pile of 
 storm-cloud. 
 
 The sun set grandly behind Sebesie, glowing 
 like a fiery, volcanic furnace, as if to remind us 
 of that tragedy, when seventy-five thousand persons 
 perished in one short day. For a long time after- 
 wards, ships used to see dead bodies floating hither 
 and thither, drifting on the tide. 
 
 In the Indian Ocean we found ourselves again in 
 the region of storm. A heavy shower came stalking 
 across the ocean, drawing a white scud beneath it 
 on the sea. Orders were given to take in all the 
 sails and uncoil the lightning conductor, and throw 
 the end into the water. Lightning began to play 
 round the horizon, blue at first, then increasing in 
 frequency till it blazed into white, and the sea was 
 as clear as day. It was a glorious spectacle. The 
 electric fluid, which rippled and streamed and 
 gushed from the sky, or darted overhead, thread- 
 ing the clouds, was incessant, and each flash so 
 prolonged that there was time to look to the 
 quarter whence the light came and watch the 
 display. 
 
 There is something grand in the squalls. They 
 come in a moment. The wind comes first with a 
 rush. It roars in the rigging and awnings, and 
 bursts with fury on the deck. The ship stands 
 
356 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 trembling “like a guilty thing surprised.” The 
 sea rises, and the ship begins to heave and roll. 
 The great black waves, like moving walls, come on 
 in rows, leaping ; the nearer rank dark and threaten- 
 ing, the following ridges a faint grey, and the rest 
 dissolved in white mist, which mingles and con- 
 fuses the sky and the waters. The waves tower 
 and totter and leap at the ship as if they would 
 toss their quivering tops on the deck. There is 
 a sudden rush and roar. The wave is defeated. 
 The vessel leans over ; and a flood of seething 
 foam gushes from her side, dashes against the white 
 crest of an advancing billow, and spouts like a 
 fountain into the air. A few drops of rain that 
 sting like hail splash the deck. Next moment 
 the surface of the sea is smooth ; there is a hissing, 
 plunging sound, and the decks are swimming with 
 a deluge of rain. 
 
 For one long week we were seeing what the 
 world must have been like on the second day of 
 creation. There was no sun, no dry land, no living 
 thing ; nothing but water and cloud, and a dim 
 misty firmament in the midst of the waters, which 
 hardly divided the waters from the waters. 
 
 The 8th of August, when we reached Colombo, 
 was a Sunday. It was indeed a Sabbath day — 
 a day spent in a Paradise, of which it may truly 
 be said — 
 
 “There everlasting spring abides 
 And never withering flowers.” 
 
 Next day we went by train to Kandy and back, 
 and sailed for Aden on the loth. 
 
 There was a fresh breeze ; the anchor was 
 weighed, and the breakwater with its lighthouse 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION, 
 
 357 
 
 seemed to glide swiftly past us, as we headed 
 away to the west, and the long, low shores of 
 Ceylon soon faded from sight. We little thought 
 of the sad tragedy that was so soon to happen. 
 It was a fine night, a thinly veiled sky with a 
 faint rnoon, a fair wind, and a sea, not rough, but 
 full of motion, the waves rising and rushing past 
 with a gleam of white foam. Towards midnight 
 I started up, hearing a terrible cry overhead. 
 I rushed on deck, and at the door of the upper 
 saloon I met one of the passengers. It was 
 his scream that I had heard ; and he told me 
 in a word what had happened. One of our 
 fellow-voyagers had thrown himself overboard. 
 The poor young man was apparently asleep on a 
 bench near him. He suddenly and silently rose, 
 swiftly passed to the side of the ship — it was only 
 two steps — leaped over, and fell head foremost. 
 The passenger sprang from his chair, shouted 
 “ Man overboard ! ” and flung into the sea a life-belt 
 which hung on the rail. The officer on the bridge 
 threw another, which burst into light when it 
 touched the water. The captain ordered the vessel 
 to stop, and a boat to be lowered. An officer and 
 a crew of Lascars got into the boat, which was 
 quickly lowered from the davits, and rowed silently 
 away in the dark towards the floating light. We 
 saw the boat touch the light, which was not in our 
 wake, but straight out to leeward — touch and pass 
 it. He was not there. Indeed, it was a hopeless 
 errand. 
 
 “ God rest his soul ! ” said a passenger beside 
 me. There was no disturbance, or noise, or con- 
 fusion on deck. After that first terrible cry, there 
 
358 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 was almost absolute silence, only broken by the 
 deep bass of the captain’s order, “ Slow astern,” 
 “ Pick up the light,” “ Stop.” We stood there 
 looking over the side at the monotonous waves 
 that rose and sank past us, as the great vessel 
 drifted down upon that strange, weird, ghostly 
 light. 
 
 “They may have picked him up,” said the 
 captain ; but it was a vain hope. The boat was 
 ordered out once more in a straight line. By this 
 time it must have been half an hour since the first 
 alarm ; none but a very strong swimmer desirous 
 of life could have been still floating. 
 
 Again the boat returned ; the crew climbed on 
 deck, and the boat was hauled up with the usual 
 sing-song invocation of “ Allah,” which sounded 
 strange and pathetic at that moment. 
 
 It seemed an awful thing to be steaming on our 
 way home, leaving behind us in that boundless, 
 dreary waste, one who had been with us so long, 
 and was alive and well but a short time before. 
 
 We coaled at Aden, saw the wrecks about the 
 “ Straits of Sorrow ” and the island of Perim, and 
 remembered that it was to a wreck on this coast 
 that Abyssinia owes its Christianity, such as it is ; 
 and as we watched the unearthly glow on the 
 bare peaks of the Sinaitic range, the psalms for 
 the day chimed in, “ He rebuked the Red Sea 
 also, and it was dried up : so He led them through 
 the deep as through a wilderness.” 
 
 In the Canal we bumped the ground twice, and, 
 as it was getting dark, orders were given to tie up 
 the ship. It was the first absolutely still night we 
 had spent. There was no thumping of the engines. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 359 
 
 no hollow rattling of coals, nor cries of ag-wallahs ; 
 no dash of waves, nor rush of water from the bows ; 
 no shouts of bargemen, nor whistle of train or 
 steamer ; no crowing of cocks, nor barking of dogs. 
 It was the deep silence of the desert, broken only 
 by the treble and tenor of the bells chiming “eight 
 bells ’’ for midnight. It made one think of Lorenzo 
 and Jessica in the avenue at Belmont — 
 
 “ Soft stillness, and the night. 
 
 Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
 
 Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven 
 Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold. 
 
 There’s not the smallest orb which thou behold’st 
 But in his motion like an angel sings, 
 
 Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins : 
 
 Such harmony is in immortal souls ; 
 
 But whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
 Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.’’ 
 
 By day we watched the long strings of camels 
 winding across the plain, or the large flocks of 
 birds hovering over the dazzling white salt and 
 blue shallows of Lake Menzaleh, or the tall, shifting 
 columns of sand lifted by little whirlwinds and 
 stalking in procession across the desert, alternately 
 thickening and melting away. They are one of 
 the most interesting sights seen from the great 
 ditch. 
 
 This must be the image referred to in the 
 canticle, where Solomon is described carried in his 
 royal palanquin, attended by his “ threescore valiant 
 men ” “ expert in war,” with “ clouds of frankincense 
 burning round him : ” “ Who is this that cometh out 
 of the wilderness like pillars of smoke } ” 
 
 And these stately pillars of sand bring insensibly 
 to mind the miraculous guide of the Children 
 of Israel through the desert : “ The Lord went 
 
36 o round the round world 
 
 before them by day in a pillar of a cloud, to lead 
 them the way ; and by night in a pillar of fire, to 
 give them light ; to go by day and night : He 
 took not away the pillar of the cloud by day, nor 
 the pillar of fire by night, from before the people.” 
 
 We left Port Said with its jumble of nationalities 
 on land and water, and, while Englishmen at home 
 were banging at the partridges, we were preserving 
 bird-life by affording a daily asylum to all kinds of 
 pretty little pilgrims, linnets, doves, and hoopoes, 
 migrating south. They seemed very rash to 
 venture so far out of sight of land. But they never 
 made a mistake. They flew straight away from 
 our port side as if they had been guided by a 
 compass. We saw the glittering lights of Malta 
 flashing in the dark, admired the sloping vineyards 
 on Pantellaria, and the lawns and precipices of 
 Cape Bon, and the jagged towering rocks of 
 Zembra and Zembretta. Again the lights shone 
 from Cape Carthage and the Dog Rocks, and soon 
 we saw the white houses of Almeria and caught 
 the first gleam of snow on the Sierra Nevada. All 
 the glasses and telescopes were brought out to 
 view what the Australians had never seen before — 
 Europe and snow. We passed Gibraltar at mid- 
 night, and felt the autumn cold rushing in from 
 the Atlantic. Whales were seen spouting in the 
 Bay of Biscay. On the lOth of September we 
 steamed past the Eddystone Lighthouse and glided 
 into Plymouth Sound. 
 
 It was very refreshing once more to see 
 English fields and woods and cottages and 
 churches ; the broken banks of red earth, the pines, 
 the neat stacks of corn, and the rich red-and- 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 36 1 
 
 brown sails of the fishing-boats. Here several of 
 the passengers landed, and amongst them my dear 
 friend, Canon Bodington. So we parted after our 
 long and happy association of labour, pleasure, and 
 adventure. He spent the night at Birmingham, 
 and reached Lichfield next day, where he was 
 received at a public meeting by the clergy of the 
 cathedral and city. 
 
 The English Channel and the Thames I felt to 
 be almost more beautiful and more interesting 
 than anything we had seen in our voyage round 
 the round world. The Australians cared nothing 
 for it. They would not lift their eyes even to look 
 at the glorious vision of Dover. At Gravesend my 
 friends came to greet me on the east of England, 
 as they had bade farewell to me on the west a year 
 and two months and one week before. The Duke 
 finally rested in the Albert Docks. All Hallows’ 
 Vicarage, on Tower Hill, was my destination. It 
 was Sunday, and touching it was to observe, as w'e 
 passed through the miles of houses in the north- 
 east, how every house had a little garden in the 
 backyard or perched somewhere on the second 
 story or on the roof, and the children and young 
 people were tending and watering their flowers 
 with the charity of the day of rest. How much 
 happier they would be if they could roam at 
 liberty, with plenty of air and sun, in some of our 
 vast, unoccupied regions of Australia or New 
 Zealand ! When shall we learn to spend our 
 millions on colonization, instead of on gaols, asylums, 
 and reformatories, and offer to our own brothers 
 and sisters and children those simple, natural 
 joys of life which all human beings have a right to 
 
362 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD. 
 
 expect, giving them some chance of freedom and 
 virtue and evangelical partnership with the lilies 
 of the field and the fowls of the air ! 
 
 So at length I reached Trinity Square. It was 
 delightful to get back to the old country again 
 on a delicious, warm September morning, to hear 
 the cheery sound of the military bugles, and to 
 see the tall, green plane trees gently stirring in 
 the air, and the stern grey walls of the Tower 
 surmounted by the British flag, and beyond them 
 the gleam of the white water of the Thames. 
 
 Our first Sunday at home was the same as our 
 first in New Zealand, and the words of the Collect, 
 
 “ wont to give more than either we desire or 
 deserve,” were the antiphon of all our time between. 
 
 “ God shall bless us ” — this was the last cadence « 
 of the evening psalms — “ God shall bless us, and 
 all the ends of the world shall fear Him.” 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 Lichfield, January ii, 18S4. 
 
 Mv DEAR Mr. Mason, 
 
 I hope you will not be startled at my proposal, 
 but I have been asked to recommend two clergymen to go 
 to New Zealand for some six or eight months, to conduct 
 missions there. 1 have, 1 believe, secured your friend Mr. 
 Bodington for one, and I think it most desirable that you 
 should go with him. 1 will not speak of the good which 
 1 feel sure God will enable you to do, but 1 am convinced that 
 it would be of great benefit to yourself, in body, soul, and spirit, 
 and therefore indirectly to the people committed to your care. 
 Bishop Cowie writes to say that your expenses would of 
 course be paid. There would be no difficulty in my giving 
 you the necessary leave of absence — on the score of health — 
 for 1 feel sure that your doctor will readily certify that you 
 would be much the better of the voyage and of a change of 
 work. 
 
 Pray give this your favourable consideration, uniting your 
 prayers with mine, and let me hear from you by-and-by. 
 
 Yours always very truly, 
 
 W. D. Lichfifxd. 
 
 Athenaeum Club, Pall Mall, 
 
 March 13, 1884. 
 
 .My dear Mr. Mason, 
 
 1 understand that you are waiting for my decision 
 as to your going to New Zealand. 
 
 Nothing that you have urged has altered my opinion that 
 
364 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 you ought to go, and that you may do so with a quiet con- 
 science. 
 
 This is on the understanding that Mr. Bodington goes 
 also. I should not advise your going alone. 
 
 I hope you will see your way to accept the call. Be 
 assured of my prayers. 
 
 * Yours very truly, 
 
 W. D. Lichfield. 
 
 The Rev. G. E. Mason. 
 
 [Co/j'.] 
 
 “Addington Park, Croydon. 
 
 “ We, Edward White, by Divine Providence Archbishop 
 of Canterbury, Primate of All England, and Metropolitan, 
 to our beloved in Christ Jesus the bishops, clergy, and laity 
 of the dioceses of Christchurch and Auckland, and to all 
 whom these presents concern, 
 
 “ Health and grace. 
 
 “ We heartily commend to your favourable acceptance and 
 affectionate welcome our well-beloved in Christ 
 The Reverend Charles Bodington, and 
 The Reverend Edward Mason, 
 whom you have invited (as we are given to understand) to 
 preach and to hold Church missions amongst you. They 
 are both godly and well-learned presbyters, beneficed in our 
 province, experienced in the work to which they are called 
 by you, well known in the Church of England, and highly 
 esteemed in love for their works’ sake. 
 
 “ With each of them we are personally acquainted, and we 
 know their labours to be sincere and self-denying, and 
 much blessed of God to His own honour. We pray that His 
 benediction may rest upon you, and upon the work under- 
 taken by them at your desire, with bountiful grace to their 
 hearers ; that their teaching and exhortation may be fruitful 
 in the conversion of souls, in the strengthening of the faithful 
 people, and their advancement in holy living, through the 
 operation of the Holy Spirit of God. And so we rest your 
 loving brother and servant in the Lord, and we beseech 
 your prayers. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 36s 
 
 “ Given at our Palace at Lambeth this twenty-second day 
 of November, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight 
 hundred and eighty-four, and in the second year of our 
 translation. 
 
 “ Edw. Cantuar.” 
 
 I certify the above to be a true copy. 
 
 VV. D. Lichfield. 
 
 Bishopthorpe, York, 
 
 June 29, 1885. 
 
 My dear Mr. Bodington, 
 
 I send you my heartiest good wishes for the work 
 to which you and your companion have devoted yourselves. 
 
 I will not forget your wish to be mentioned in prayer ; and 
 I have already used the little leaflet which you enclosed. 
 
 The Lord bless you and keep you in your goings out and 
 comings in. The Lord lift up the light of His countenance 
 upon you, and give you peace now and for evermore. 
 
 1 am, most truly yours, 
 
 W. Ebor. 
 
 Wiliam Dalrymple, by Divine permission Bishop of 
 Lichfield, to the bishops and clergy of the Province of New 
 Zealand, greeting in the Lord. 
 
 Whereas our well-beloved Charles Bodington, Priest in 
 the Church of England and Vicar of Christ Church in our 
 Cathedral City of Lichfield, is about to visit the islands of 
 New Zealand at the invitation of the Bishops of Christchurch 
 and Auckland, to do the work of an evangelist by holding 
 missions in various quarters for the awakening of the 
 ungodly and the building up of the faithful : — We do by 
 this writing heartily and in the love of God commend this 
 our brother to the confidence and loving-kindness of all 
 bishops and clergy into whose hands this letter may come. 
 
 Given under our hand and episcopal seal this twenty-ninth 
 dayof June, being the Festival of St. Peter, in the year of our 
 Lord one thousand eighty hundred and eighty-five. 
 
 W. D. Lichfield. 
 
366 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 To the Bishops and Church in New Zealand. 
 
 My dear Brothers in Christ, 
 
 The Rev. G. E. Mason, Rector of Whitwell in 
 Derbyshire, now in the diocese of Southwell, but till lately 
 in the diocese of Lichfield, has been invited, and has, under 
 the direction of the Bishop of Lichfield, accepted the invita- 
 tion, to visit the Church of New Zealand as a missioner. 1 
 desire, in hearty approval of his purpose, to commend him 
 earnestly to your brotherly reception as a faithful servant of 
 God, in all ways highly fitted for the service which he has 
 undertaken. 
 
 In strong hope that God’s blessing may be upon his visit, 
 
 I am your faithful brother in Christ, 
 
 George Southwell. 
 
 Thurgarton, Southwell, July 9, 1885. 
 
 Prayer used by Friends at Home on behalf of the 
 Mission. 
 
 ‘ ‘ Withal praying also for us, that God would open unto us a door 
 of utterance to speak the mystery of Christ." — Col. iv. 3. 
 
 V . — Our help is in the Name of the Lord. 
 
 Ji . — Who hath made Heaven and Earth. 
 
 Almighty God, Who dost govern all things in heaven and 
 earth ; keep, we beseech Thee, under Thy Fatherly care, 
 thy servants, Charles Bodington and Edward Mason, whom 
 Thou hast called to preach Thy Word in New Zealand. 
 Enable them by Thy Holy Spirit to have a right judgment 
 in all things ; strengthen them in all difficulties ; protect 
 them in all dangers ; and grant that Thy Word, spoken by 
 their mouth, may have such good success that Thy Holy 
 Name may be glorified and Thy Blessed Kingdom enlarged : 
 through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 367 
 
 From the Bishop 0/ Auckland {addressed to his Diocese). 
 
 Bishopscourt, Auckland, August 13, 1885. 
 My dear People, 
 
 I am hoping on the 22nd inst. to welcome to the 
 diocese two clergymen from England, namely, the Revs. 
 C. Bodington and G. E. Mason, who have been invited by 
 the primate and myself to conduct a mission to the people 
 of our respective dioceses. The purpose of the mission is 
 to aid the Church in her ordinary work, — of (i) instructing 
 those who are ignorant of the Gospel of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ, (2) recalling to their allegiance to Him those who 
 have become negligent of their duty as Christians, (3) 
 strengthening those who are conscious of their weakness and 
 desirous of spiritual improvement, and (4) affording help 
 generally to all who need to be helped in the Christian life. 
 To one or more of these sections we all belong ; as each one 
 of us will perceive, if we examine our own hearts and our 
 manner of life. To ignore God’s existence, to live without 
 reference to His will, is the height of impiety ; to live for 
 ourselves alone is contrary to the first principle of the 
 Gospel ; to make no advance in holiness is inconsistent with 
 our discipleship of Jesus Christ. 
 
 Each one of us will, I trust, be benefited by the work of 
 the missioners. In order that it may be so, I now call upon 
 you all to help them in their difficult undertaking, by 
 attending the meetings held by them in your parish or 
 district, and encouraging others to do the same, and by 
 making a special effort to go forward in the knowledge, the 
 reverential fear, and the love of God. Above all, our 
 earnest prayers are needed, that ourselves and others may 
 profit by “ the manifestation of the Spirit,” the various means 
 by which our Heavenly Father would lead us in the path 
 of His commandments, — the way of self-denial, of honesty, 
 of industry, of purity, of charity. The spirit of prayer implies 
 a state of mind in which we listen gladly to the “ still, small 
 voice” of conscience, and sincerely desire to follow its 
 directions. “Ask, and ye shall have ; seek, and ye shall find.” 
 To help you in this duty of praying for God’s blessing on 
 the work of the missioners, — that yourselves and those 
 belonging to you may be stirred up to a higher sense of your 
 
368 
 
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 privileges and responsibilities as Christians, I send you a 
 short form of prayer, which I ask you, as your Bishop, to 
 use daily during the sojourn of the missioners amongst us. 
 That your hearts may be opened to the working of the Holy 
 Spirit now and ever, and that you may be made more help- 
 ful one to another in living to God and resisting the evil 
 that is in the world, is the constant prayer of your faithful 
 brother and Bishop, 
 
 W. G. Auckland. 
 
 Heavenly Father, we ask for Thy blessing on all those 
 engaged in preaching the Gospel of Thy Son Jesus Christ, 
 and at this time we pray especially for those who are 
 ministering to Thy people in this Diocese. Give to our 
 missioners the spirit of power, of love, and of a sound mind ; 
 and grant that by their life and doctrine they may set forth 
 Thy glory, and set forward the salvation of all men. Enable 
 Thy Church to hold forth the light of Thy Truth to those 
 who are living in ignorance and error, to revive the faith of 
 those who have forgotten Thee, and to stir up the wills of 
 those who love Thee that they may serve Thee better in the 
 days that remain ; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 
 
 Prayer on behalf of the Mission in this 
 Diocese, 1886. 
 
 O God our Heavenly Father, Who dost stir the hearts of 
 men when Thou wilt, and as Thou wilt, and dost bind up 
 the broken-hearted and give liberty to those who are under 
 the captivity of sin, pour down, we beseech Thee, the 
 abundance of Thy Holy Spirit upon those ministers of Thy 
 Church whom Thou hast called, at this time, to share the 
 work in this Diocese for the salvation of souls. Bless the 
 word spoken by them to the conversion of the sinful, and 
 the strengthening of the faithful ; and grant that those whom 
 Thou dost raise up to newness of life, and to a greater 
 diligence in making their calling and election sure, may have 
 grace to persevere unto the end, through the merit and 
 mediation of Jesus Christ, Thy Son, our Lord. Amen. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 369 
 
 The Missioners’ Letter. 
 
 Dear Friends and Brethren in the Lord, 
 
 VVe have been invited by your bishop to preach 
 a mission to you, and our own bishops have desired us to 
 accept the invitation, and are sending us with their blessing. 
 Mission services have become very common in England ; 
 and experience has shown their value in reclaiming wanderers, 
 and in deepening the spiritual life of faithful souls and 
 kindling in them a greater zeal for Christian works. We 
 feel it a high privilege and a solemn responsibility to be 
 sent to speak the Word of God to you. We beg you to 
 receive us as brothers. We come relying on your sympathy, 
 and we ask you to aid us with your fervent prayers, for 
 prayer is the great root and secret of success in all work for 
 God. 
 
 Do not expect to hear from us anything new or startling. 
 We come to you with the Word of God as interpreted by 
 the sober teaching of the Prayer-book. You will hear no 
 new Gospel, but the old, old story of the Gospel of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ and the work of the Spirit of God, — the way of 
 repentance, the power of faith, and the gifts of grace. 
 
 May God, from Whom all good gifts do come, bestow on 
 you and on us His richest blessing. 
 
 We are your faithful friends and servants, 
 
 C. Bodington, Vicar of Christ Church, Lichfield. 
 G. E. Mason, Rector of Whitwell. 
 
 Auckland, February ist, 1886. 
 
 To the Right Reverend the Lord Bishop of Auckland. 
 
 We, the undersigned, clergy of parishes and districts 
 in your diocese, desire, through you, to tender our heart- 
 felt thanks to the missioners who, in response to your * 
 lordship’s invitation, have come to us from England, and 
 have since their arrival been labouring untiringly among 
 us. By their astonishing and sustained labours, and by 
 their clear and unfaltering expositions of Holy Scripture, 
 as interpreted by the sober teaching of the Book of 
 Common Prayer, no less than by their unfeigned piety and 
 
 2 B 
 
370 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 constant reliance on God the Holy Ghost, they have ex- 
 hibited to us an ideal of ministerial life and duty which 
 it will be our responsibility and our aim to follow ; and 
 we rejoice to know that, through their instrumentality, 
 many troubled ones have attained to a peace and gladness 
 not before realized, many sinners have been aroused, and 
 many have been helped to a more loyal and intelligent 
 devotion to ‘our Blessed Lord in this branch of His Holy 
 Catholic Church. That God’s abundant blessing may 
 follow them throughout their labours in the diocese to which 
 they are now going, and in all places to which His Provi- 
 dence shall hereafter call them, is the prayer of those who 
 trust always to retain their teaching in thankful remem- 
 brance, and in the Divine mercy to meet them hereafter in 
 the nearer presence of Him before Whom they and we 
 alike live, and to Whom they and we as watchers for souls 
 must alike give account. 
 
 To the Revs. C. Bodington and G. E. Mason. 
 
 My dear Friends, 
 
 1 enclose the copy of a letter that I have received 
 from the four archdeacons of this diocese and others of our 
 clergy, who desire me to thank you on their behalf for your 
 
 (Signed) 
 
 B. T. Dudley, Archdeacon. 
 
 E. B. Clarke, Archdeacon. 
 
 H. Govett, Archdeacon. 
 
 W. N. DE L. Willis, Archdeacon. 
 
 C. M. Nelson. 
 
 John Haselden. 
 
 A. G. PURCH.AS. 
 
 W. M. Du Rieu. 
 
 W. E. Mulgan. 
 
 T. O’Callaghan. 
 
 Fr.ank Gould. 
 
 E. J. Phillips. 
 
 Philip Walsh. 
 
 R. O’C. Biggs. 
 
 J. B.ates. 
 
 F. T. Baker. 
 
 W. Katterns. 
 
 W. Calder. 
 
 C. C. C. Frith. 
 
 A. J. Hitchcock. 
 
 F. H. Long. 
 
 J. K. Davis. 
 
 G. H. S. Walpole. 
 E. J. McFarl.and. 
 J. H. Hewson. 
 P.S.Smallfield. 
 
 Bishopscourt, Auckland, February 3, 1886. 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 3;r 
 
 ministrations to them and their people. I have very great 
 pleasure in complying with their request. For them and 
 for myself I thank you most heartily for the fidelity, the 
 plainness of speech, and the charity with which you have 
 set forth the teaching of the Church on the great truths of 
 the Gospel throughout the diocese, and for the high standard 
 of pastoral labour that by word and deed you have shown 
 us. From testimony that I am continually receiving, not 
 only from the clergy, but also from the laity, from men and 
 women of all sorts and conditions, I am assured that your 
 ministrations have afforded great help to very many of the 
 people of this diocese, including not a few of those who 
 do not call themselv’es members of the Church of England. 
 I hope that you will both husband your strength as far 
 as is possible during the remainder of your mission in New 
 Zealand ; and that, when you return to England, you will 
 find yourselves strengthened in every way for your duties 
 there. 
 
 I remain, my dear friends. 
 
 Your faithful and affectionate brother, 
 
 W. G. Auckland. 
 
 .All Saints’ Parsonage, Hokitika, February 13, 1886. 
 
 Mv Lord Bishop, 
 
 We have received the kind and touching letter of 
 thanks addressed to us through your lordship by the arch- 
 deacons and clergy of the diocese of Auckland. It is a great 
 comfort and joy to us to be assured by them that the mission 
 has, through the blessing of God, helped them and the 
 flocks committed to their charge. We esteem it a great 
 privilege to have been allowed to make the acquaintance of a 
 body of men so thoroughly devoted to their singularly difficult 
 and arduous work. It will be our constant prayer that their 
 work may bear abundant fruit, and that they may receive 
 increasing help. We beg your lordship to convey to them 
 the expression of our warmest gratitude, and we also ask 
 your lordship to accept our sincere thanks for your own 
 most kind letter, which accompanies their address. May 
 
3/2 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 we also take this opportunity of thanking the laity of your 
 lordship’s diocese for their many acts of kindness and their 
 unceasing hospitality ? 
 
 We are, my Lord Bishop, 
 
 Your obedient and grateful servants, 
 
 C. Bodington 
 G. E. Mason. 
 
 To the Right Reverend the Lord Bishop of Auckland. 
 
 To the Most Reverend the Lord Bishop of Christchurch, 
 Primate of New Zealand. 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 Before the departure from amongst us of the Rev. C. 
 Bodington and the Rev. G. E. Mason, who have come to 
 us as missioners from England, at your lordship’s invita- 
 tion, with the commendation of his Grace the Archbishop 
 of Canterbury, we, the undersigned clergy of your lordship s 
 diocese, respectfully request you to convey to them our 
 grateful acknowledgment of their zealous endeavours to 
 quicken, by the power of the Holy Spirit, the religious life 
 of the souls committed to our charge ; endeavours from 
 which we feel that we ourselves have derived much benefit. 
 We desire to bear glad and thankful testimony to the ex- 
 ceeding earnestness, as well as to the simplicity and direct- 
 ness with which they have preached the Gospel of our Lord 
 and Master Jesus Christ : and to their untiring labours for 
 the advancement of His holy religion — labours carried on 
 for several months in succession, following also immediately 
 after a like series of efforts in the diocese of Auckland. We 
 join with them in heartfelt thankfulness to Almighty God, 
 that He has been pleased to grant them that continuance of 
 health and strength which was needful to sustain them 
 during a period of such severe and protracted exertion. We 
 desire at the same time to assure them that their work has 
 been very highly appreciated both by ourselves and by the 
 vast majority of the lay members of our Church, in those 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 
 
 373 
 
 cures especially in which missions have been held. Very 
 many feel that they have derived deep and, as they trust, 
 lasting benefit from the instruction they have received, as 
 well as from the faithful and loving earnestness with which 
 the truth has been brought home to their consciences. Some 
 will acknowledge with profound thankfulness that they owe 
 to them, under God, the beginning of a true repentance ; many 
 others will date from the mission a marvellous quickening of 
 their faith and hope, showing itself in a renewed life, a deeper 
 love to God and man, and increased fervour and constancy 
 in their religious duties. The first-fruits of their labours, 
 and a sure earnest, we trust, of their abiding success, are to 
 be seen already in an increased number both of communi- 
 cants and of candidates for Confirmation. A foundation has 
 thus been laid, on which it wiil remain for us, the regular 
 workers in this portion of the Lord’s kingdom, following the 
 example of their zeal and diligence, to endeavour, with the 
 help of God, to build up the life of practical holiness and 
 devotion to good works. 
 
 In conclusion, my lord, we respectfully request you to 
 assure our brethren that they will take with them, on their 
 departure from amongst us, our heartiest wishes for their 
 future welfare and happiness. They may be assured that 
 very many in this diocese, both clergy and laity, will never 
 forget them, nor cease to pray that God’s abundant blessing 
 may attend their future labours for the edification of Christ’s 
 people. It may not be our lot to meet them again face to 
 face in this life ; but we rejoice in the hope that our fellow- 
 ship with them in the communion of saints may never be 
 interrupted, either in this world or in that which is to 
 come. 
 
 We beg to subscribe ourselves, my lord. 
 
 Your lordship’s faithful and alifectionate servants 
 in our Lord Jesus Christ, 
 
 (Signed by the Dean, the Archdeacons, the 
 
 Canons, and the other clergy.) 
 
 Whitsuntide, 1886. 
 
 2 B 3 
 
374 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 To the Reverend Charles Bodington and the Reverend 
 G. E. Mason. 
 
 We, the clergy of the diocese of Brisbane, desire to ex- 
 press our sincere and hearty thanks to you for the privilege 
 we have enjoyed of joining with you in Communion or 
 devotion, and of listening to the meditations and instructions 
 which you have been good enough to give us during this 
 week. We f^el that we owe a real debt of gratitude to you 
 for coming amongst us, and to our bishop for procuring for 
 us the benefit of communion and fellowship in Christ with 
 men so gifted by the Holy Ghost with the spirit of power, 
 of love, and of a sound mind, a benefit which, owing to our 
 isolation and distance from the centres of the Church’s 
 spiritual life, we can but very seldom enjoy. 
 
 Your addresses and meditations, with their deep, spiritual 
 lessons and clear setting forth of the principles which should 
 guide and govern our teaching and our life, have been a 
 help and strength to us, and, we trust, will be of permanent 
 value to us all. We feel sure that the blessing of Him Who 
 is the Head over all things to the Church — His Body — will 
 not be wanting to the mission services in St. John’s Church ; 
 but that your earnest exhortations and wise counsels will 
 bear the fruits of holiness in the recall of wanderers to the 
 fold, in the deepening of penitence, and the strengthening 
 of spiritual life in those who are trying to live in union with 
 our Lord. W'^e are sorry only for this, that your visit is of 
 necessity so short, and that more preparation could not have 
 been made for the mission, so that, humanly speaking, (clergy 
 and lay helpers co-operating), its effects could have been 
 more general. 
 
 And now we ask you to accept our grateful thanks, and 
 assure you of our prayers that you, who have together gone 
 before the face of our Lord into the distant parts of His 
 Church, may have the light of His countenance reflected in 
 full measure on yourselves, as you have been the means of 
 causing that light to shine on the hearts and lives of others. 
 
 W’e ask your blessing and y'our remembrance of us and 
 our people at the Holy Altar, as our prayers will follow you 
 on your voyage home and return to your work of labour and 
 love for our Master and Divine Lord, from W^hom no distance 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 375 
 
 can separate, and Who unites us all to Himself in the unity of 
 His Holy Church. 
 
 On behalf of the clergy of the diocese of Brisbane, 
 Benjamin Glennie, 
 
 Archdeacon of Brisbane. 
 
 Bishopsbourne, July 9, 1886. 
 
 The Teaching of the Missioners. 
 
 (From the Waikato Times, copied into the Auckland 
 newspapers). 
 
 The following letter has been sent by the Rev. G. E. 
 Mason to a resident in Hamilton : — 
 
 Challinor House, Pitt Street, Auckland, 
 
 December 3, 1885. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I thank you for your letter, which has been for- 
 warded to me from the Thames. I am sorry that any bitter 
 feelings have been aroused by my instruction on the Church. 
 Nothing could have been further from my intention than 
 “ cruelly to taunt ” anybody. I always endeavour to teach 
 the whole truth perfectly plainly, so that there can be no 
 mistake, but at the same time with charity. I cannot with- 
 draw any part of my teaching on the Church, because I 
 believe it to be absolutely true. I have seen so much since 
 I have been in New Zealand of Church-people drifting off 
 from the Church into the sects, that I feel deeply the im- 
 portance of teaching plainly that there is such a sin as 
 schism, against which we pray in the Litany. 
 
 My teaching on the Church is briefly as follows : — 
 
 The Church is (i) One — Eph. iv. i, etc. There cannot be 
 two, for the Church is the Body and the Bride of Christ. 
 
 (2) Holy — By union with Christ, and because it is filled 
 with the Holy Ghost. All the ordinances of the Church are 
 holy ; and her object is to make men holy. 
 
 (3) Catholic — Not local, but universal ; being the same 
 all over the world ; teaching not part of the truth, but all 
 truth ; embracing all classes of persons, young, old, learned, 
 unlearned, rich, poor, black, white, bond and free ; curing 
 all sins, and possessing all virtues. 
 
376 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 (4) Apostolic — Being historically connected by continuous 
 succession with the Apostolic Church of Jerusalem, founded 
 on the Day of Pentecost. There are four marks which dis- 
 tinguish the Church from the sects. They are these : 
 
 (1) The Creed : Apostles’, Nicene, Athanasian. 
 
 (2) The Ministry : bishops, priests, deacons. 
 
 (3) The Sacraments ; Baptism and Communion, and the 
 other five sacramental rites of Confirmation, Repentance, 
 Matrimony, Orders, and Visitation of the Sick. 
 
 (4) The Commandments : that is the morality. 
 
 These four marks of the Church are possessed by the 
 three great historical Churches, the English, the Greek, and 
 the Roman, and no doubt by others, such as the St. Thomas 
 Christians of India, and by other Eastern Churches. 
 
 The sects, such as the various kinds of Wesleyans, the 
 Congregationalists, the Baptists, the Salvation Army, and 
 the Christadelphians, do not possess these four marks, 
 though some of them possess some of the marks. None 
 of them are historically connected with the Church of 
 Jerusalem, and, therefore, none of them have any authority 
 whatever to teach or to administer the Sacraments. They 
 may— and often do — teach the truth, but their teaching is 
 not authoritative ; they have no commission. 
 
 When I say that they have no authority to administer the 
 Sacraments I do not mean that the baptism of Wesleyans 
 and others is invalid. I have always taught the reverse, 
 that if anybody— even a woman — baptizes a person with 
 water in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy 
 Ghost, the baptism is valid, though irregular, and Con- 
 firmation by the bishop supplies any defects in the baptism. 
 
 Lastly, I draw (as I said at Hamilton) a great distinction 
 between individual Dissenters and the societies to which they 
 belong. The individual Dissenter, if baptized, is a member 
 of the one Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church, and is 
 distinctly not outside the pale of the Church, so long as he 
 believes the Apostles’ Creed; but the sect to which he 
 attaches himself is not and cannot be “ a Church.” It is 
 simply a voluntary society founded by man for some par- 
 ticular object. But in government, in authority, in historical 
 connection, and in every other way it is utterly distinct from 
 the Holy Catholic Church. The Wesleyans are no more a 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION. 377 
 
 Church than the S.P.C.K., or the S.P.G., or the G.F.S., or the 
 Young Men’s Christian Association. 
 
 The Wesleyans know perfectly well that John Wesley was 
 a priest of the Church, and that he almost bitterly opposed 
 any of his preachers administering the Sacraments or holding 
 services at the same time as the Church. Wesley simply 
 intended to found a guild for religious purposes within the 
 Church ; and such the Wesleyans still might be. 
 
 They have done a great and good work, and I am quite 
 free to acknowledge it ; but they would have done incom- 
 parably a greater and a better if they had been under the 
 guidance of the Church and in union with it. To this it is 
 my earnest prayer that they may return. 
 
 If the Wesleyan ministers were ordained by the bishops, 
 and the “ members ” confirmed by the bishops, they might 
 still continue to carry on their work of preaching, classes, 
 and Sacraments as they do at present. They would then 
 occupy a position analogous to that of the religious orders of 
 the Middle Ages. 
 
 I hope none of this letter seems harsh. You are at liberty 
 to make what use you please of it. But life is too short, 
 religion too serious, and divisions too many and too mis- 
 chievous, to allow us to give an uncertain sound. Truth is 
 independent of opinions, and remains eternally true. 
 
 I remain, my dear sir. 
 
 With all affectionate regard to those who do not agree 
 with me nor worship at the same altar, — 
 Yours very sincerely, 
 
 G. E. Mason. 
 
 [Perhaps I ought to add an explanatory note to this letter. 
 
 With regard to what I have called the “ five sacramental 
 rites ” I may remark — 
 
 1. That I have exercised moderation in not calling them 
 by another name. 
 
 2 . That, in point of fact, these five rites are distinguished 
 in the Book of Common Prayer by special services or forms, 
 and that there are no more — except, of course, the two great 
 
378 
 
 ROUND THE ROUND WORLD 
 
 Sacraments of Holy Baptism and Holy Communion — than 
 five ; for the Churching of Women is only a service of 
 thanksgiving and restoration, and the Burial of the Dead is 
 not mainly for the benefit of the departed soul. Benediction, 
 which certainly is a sacramental means of grace, is not 
 separate from the others, but an integral part of them all. 
 
 3. That the Catechism does not touch the question of the 
 “ five sacramental rites.” It merely teaches that there are 
 only two universally necessary to salvation ; and the words 
 “two only” followed by the qualifying “as” seems to imply 
 that there are other Sacraments which are not universally 
 necessary, but are for “ certain persons or states of life.” 
 
 4. That the ninth Homily, bk. ii. speaks thus : — 
 
 “ Although Absolution hath the promise of forgiveness 
 of sin ; yet by the express word of the New Testament it 
 hath not this promise annexed and tied to the visible sign, 
 which is imposition of hands. For this visible sign — I mean 
 laying on of hands — is not expressly commanded in the New 
 Testament to be used in Absolution, asHhe visible signs in 
 Baptism and the Lord’s Supper are : and therefore Absolution 
 is no such sacrament as Baptism and the Communion are.” 
 
 Again : “ Neither Ordination, nor any other Sacrament else, 
 be such Sacraments as Baptism and the Communion are.” 
 
 Again : after mentioning all the five ; “ No man ought to 
 take these for Sacraments in such signification and meaning 
 as the Sacraments of Baptism and the Lord’s Supper are.”] 
 
 G. E. M.ason. 
 
 July 4, 1892. 
 
 1 add the following letter as another touching example of 
 delicate and thoughtful charity : 
 
 To the Revs. C. Bodington and G. E. Mason, Church 
 Missioners, Christchurch. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 Having derived in an indirect way benefit from 
 your visit to this country, and as I know you do not receive' 
 “gifts from men,” I desire you will allow me the pleasure 
 of inaugurating a scheme for the help of men. As you have 
 come so many miles to support us with the Bread of life, or 
 
ON A CHURCH MISSION, 
 
 379 
 
 at least to help us to obtain fresh supplies for ourselves, 
 suffer me in return to acknowledge my share of a general 
 indebtedness by establishing, on behalf of the poor of over- 
 grown London, a poor-box in your joint names ; and whilst 
 I will do what I can to fill the same, will you kindly name 
 the charitable institution you consider the most deserving in 
 the cause of supplying the daily wants of the poor at home ? 
 I propose annually sending or causing to be sent a contri- 
 bution, in the shape of a draft of our Bodington-Mason Fund, 
 to that institute. In this way you will do me an honour, and 
 I may, as a thanksgiving for your efforts for us, do some little 
 good for the many thousand helpless brethren at home. 
 
 Yours obediently, 
 
 IGNOTUS. 
 
 PRINTED BV WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LI.MITED, 
 LONDON AND BECCLES. 
 
IPTJBXjIC-A.TI03^S 
 
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