’Now, old Fan, as you know, the misery of self-consciousness and conceit clings to me.  I can’t, as dear old father could, tell you what actually occurred without doing myself harm in the telling of it.

’It pleased God to make me able to say all through what I think it was good for people to hear.  All meetings and services (with a few, very few exceptions, from heavy rains, &c.) were crowded.  I could not in a few minutes speak with any degree of completeness on subjects which for years had occupied my thoughts:  I was generally about an hour and a half, occasionally longer—­I tried to be shorter.  But people were attentive and interested all through.  At Melbourne, it was said that 1,500 children (at a meeting for them) were present, and 500 adults, including many of the most educated people.  All, children included, were as still as mice for an hour and a half, except occasional cheers.

’But generally there was little excitement.  I did not, as you can suppose, take the sensation line; spoke very rapidly, for I had no time to spare—­but clearly and quietly, sometimes gravely, sometimes with exceeding earnestness, and exposed sophistries and fallacies and errors about the incapacity of the black races, &c.  There were times when I lost all sense of nervousness and self, and only wished that 10,000 people had been present, for I felt that I was speaking out, face to face, plain simple words of truth.

’The effect at the time was no doubt very remarkable.  The Dean of Melbourne, e.g., said publicly that no such earnestness in religious, matters had ever been exhibited there.  The plan of Mission work was simple, practicable, commended itself to hard-headed men of business.  Many came to hear who had been disgusted with the usual sentiment-alism and twaddle, the absence of knowledge of human nature, the amount of conventional prejudice, &c.  They were induced to come by friends who represented that this was something quite different, and these men went away convinced in many cases, seconding resolutions and paying subscriptions.

’I said what was true, that I was the mouthpiece of the Bishop of New Zealand; that I could speak freely of the plan of the Mission, for it was not my plan, &c.  How I was carried through it all, I can’t say.  I was unusually well, looked and felt bright, and really after a while enjoyed it, though I was always glad when my share in the speechifying was over.  Yet I did feel it a blessing, and a privilege, to stand up there and speak out; and I did speak out, and told them their plain duties, not appealing to feelings, but aiming at convincing the judgment.  I told 1,500 people in church at Sydney, “I speak as to wise men, judge ye what I say.”  Do you know, Fan, I almost feel that if I live a few years I ought to write a book, unless I can get the Primate to do it?  So much that is self-evident to us, I now see to be quite unknown to many good educated