Much to his satisfaction—­and that of all the Maitland family—­this request was acceded to, and the ‘Prince of Missionaries’ arrived at New Plymouth, accompanied also by his bride.  He was betrothed when he left England, but circumstances had then prevented his intended wife from accompanying him.  But as soon as he was settled at Roxburgh, she followed him to the land of his exile, and became his faithful and devoted companion through a long and toilsome life, and his able and efficient helpmate in all his difficulties.

The chief object of this excellent man, in leaving his own country, was not so much to escape the persecution that then awaited the ministers of his sect, as to attempt the conversion of the native heathen.  For this pious and disinterested purpose, he abandoned home and kindred, and all that was dear to him, and, at the age of twenty-seven, entered that land of distant promise, to the evangelization of which he had resolved to devote all the powers of his life, and the faculties of his energetic mind.  So abstemious and self-denying was he, that his mode of life resembled that of a hermit; and, at the same time, so liberal was he in relieving the wants of others—­whether his own countrymen or the red Indians—­that, if his wife had not been a careful and clever manager, they must often have been reduced to absolute want.  There is an anecdote recorded of him, so characteristic of the self-forgetting spirit of the ‘Great Apostle of the Indians,’ that it ought not to be omitted here, where we are endeavoring to give a faithful picture of the manners and the principles of the Pilgrim Fathers, and their immediate followers.

The society in England, under whose auspices he had emigrated, allowed him a salary of L50 a year, a great portion of which, as well as of his small private resources, was always dedicated to charitable purposes.  It was his custom, when he received his quarterly payment from the treasurer of the colony, to give away a considerable part of it before he reached his home, so that Dame Elliot—­as she was called—­only received a very small sum, inadequate to the necessary expenses of her frugal housekeeping.  The paymaster knew the good man’s peculiarities, and was aware of the domestic embarrassments that his too-liberal bounty often occasioned.  He therefore tied the money up in a handkerchief with so many knots, that he was sure the pastor could never untie them; and gave it to him, saying in jest, ’Now really, reverend sir, you must this time give it all to your worthy spouse.’  Elliot smiled, and departed:  but, before he reached his dwelling, he remembered an afflicted family who stood in need of his assistance and consolation; and, on going to visit them, he found them overwhelmed with unexpected distress.  He immediately attempted to open his handkerchief, but all his efforts were unavailing to loosen the complicated knots.  ‘Well, well,’ he said, at last, ’I see it is the will of the Lord that you should have the whole.’  And, giving them all his wealth, he returned home penniless.