’But when any little word or thought touches the feelings, the sensitive rather than the intellectual part of me, then I break down.

’And yet it seems to bring thoughts and hopes into more definite shape.  How I read that magnificent last chapter of Isaiah last Sunday.  I seemed to feel my whole heart glowing with wonder, and exultation, and praise.  The world invisible may well be a reality to us, whose dear ones there outnumber now those still in the flesh.  Jem’s most beautiful, most intensely affecting letter, with all his thoughtfulness about the grave, &c., fairly upset me.  I let the Judge and Lady Martin read some parts of it, and they returned it, saying it had quite overcome them.  Now all day I feel really as much as at those moments, only the special circumstances give more expression at one time than at another to the inward state of mind.

’How I treasure up many many of his words and actions!

’What a history in these words:  “All times of the day are alike to me now; getting near, I trust, the time when it will be all day.”

’Those are the things that break me down.  I see his dear face, and hear him slowly and calmly saying such words of patient trust and faith, and it is too much.  Oh! that I might live as the son of such parents ought to live!

’And then I turn to the practical duties again, and get lost in the unceasing languages and all the rest of it.

’Now enough—­but I write what comes uppermost.

’Your loving Cousin,

‘J.  C. Patteson.’

Very soon after the return, on the 6th December, 1861, an Ordination was held at St. Paul’s, Auckland, when the Primate ordained two Maori deacons, and Bishop Patteson, the Rev. Benjamin Dudley.

Sir William and Lady Martin spent part of this summer in the little cottage at Kohimarama where the sailing master of the late ’Southern Cross’ had lived:  and again we have to thank her for a picture of life at St. Andrew’s.  She says:—­

’The new settlement was then thought to be healthy, and he and his boys alike rejoiced in the warmth of the sheltered bay, after the keenness of the air at St. John’s on higher ground.  The place looked very pretty.  The green fields and hawthorn hedges and the sleek cattle reminded one of England.  As a strong contrast, there was the white shelly beach and yellow sands.  Here the boys sunned themselves in play hours, or fished on the rocks, or cooked their fish at drift-wood fires.  On calm days one or two would skim across the blue water in their tiny canoes.  One great charm of the place was the freedom and naturalness of the whole party.  There was no attempt to force an overstrained piety on these wild fellows, who showed their sincerity by coming with the Bishop.  By five in the morning all were astir, and jokes and laughter and shrill unaccountable cries would rouse us up, and go on all day, save when school and chapel came to sober them.