of flowers and trees, the song of thrush and blackbird (both unknown to New Zealand).  The green meadows and cawing rooks, and church towers and Sunday bells, and the bright sparkling river and leaping trout:  and the hedges with primrose and violet (I should like to see a hedge again); and I am afraid I must add the green peas and beans, and various other garden productions, which would make salt pork more palatable!” Yes, I should like to see it all again; but it is of the earth after all, and I have the “many-twinkling smile of Ocean,” though there is no soft woodland dell to make it more beautiful by its contrast.  Well, I have had a happy hour scribbling away, and now to work.’

‘I am less distressed now,’ he adds, a few days later, in the same strain, ’at the absence of all that is customary in England on these occasions (great festivals), though I dare not say how far the loss of all these privileges produces a bad effect upon my heart and character.  One often loses the spirit when the form is withdrawn, and I still sorely long for the worship of God in the beauty of holiness, and my mind reverts to Ottery Church, and college chapels and vast glorious cathedrals.’

On the 10th of June the ‘Southern Cross’ was in Sydney harbour, and remained there a fortnight, Bishop Barker gladly welcoming the new arrivals, though in general Bishop Selwyn and his Chaplain announced themselves as like the man and woman in the weather-glass, only coming-out by turns, since one or other had to be in charge of the ship; but later an arrangement was made which set them more at liberty.  And the churches at Sydney were a great delight to Patteson; the architecture, music, and all the arrangements being like those among which he had been trained.

‘A Sunday worth a dozen gales of wind!’ he exclaims, ’but you can hardly judge of the effect produced by all the good substantial concomitants of Divine worship upon one who for fourteen months has scarcely seen anything but a small wooden church, with almost all the warmth of devotion resting on himself.  I feel roused to the core. ...I felt the blessing of worshipping the Lord with a full heart in the beauty of holiness.  A very good organ well played, and my joy was great when we sang the long 78th Psalm to an old chant of itself almost enough to upset me, the congregation singing in parts with heart and voice.’

His exhilaration showed itself in a letter to his little cousin, Paulina Martin:—­

’’Southern Cross,” Sydney Harbour:  June 18, 1856.

’My darling Pena,—­Are you so anxious to have a letter from me, and do you think I am going to forget all about you?  However, you have had long before this two or three letters from me, I hope, and when I write to grandpapa or grandmamma or mamma, you must always take it as if a good deal was meant for you, for I have not quite so much time for writing as you have, I dare say, in spite of music and French and history and geography and all the rest of it.  But I do dearly love to write to you when I can, and you must be quite certain that I shall always do so as I have opportunity.