own doings.  He spoke one evening quite openly about his dislike to ship life.  We were laughing at some remembrance of the Bishop of Lichfield’s satisfaction when once afloat; and he burst into an expression of wonder, how anyone could go to sea for pleasure.  I asked him what he disliked in particular, and he answered, Everything.  That he always felt dizzy, headachy, and unable to read with comfort; the food was greasy, and there was a general sense of dirt and discomfort.  As the time drew nigh for sailing, he talked a good deal about the rapidly growing evil of the labour trade.  He grew very depressed one day, and spoke quite despondingly of the future prospects of the Mission.  He told us of one island, Vanua Lava, I think, where, a few years ago, 300 men used to assemble on the beach to welcome him.  Now, only thirty or forty were left.  He saw that if the trade went on at the same rate as it had been doing for the last year or two, many islands would be depopulated, and everywhere he must expect to meet with suspicion or open ill will.’

’The next morning the cloud had rolled away, and he was ready to go forth in faith to do the work appointed him, leaving the result in God’s hands.  We accompanied him to the boat on Friday morning.  Bishop and Mrs. Cowie came down, and one or two of the clergy, and his two English boys who were to go with him.

’It was a lovely morning.  We rejoiced to see how much he had improved in his health during his stay.  He had been very good and tractable about taking nourishment, and certainly looked and was all the better for generous diet.  He had almost grown stout, and walked upright and briskly.  Sir William parted with him on the beach, where we have had so many partings; and I meant to do so too, but a friend had brought another boat, and invited me to come, so I gladly went off to the “Southern Cross,” which was lying about half-a-mile off.  The Cowies were very anxious to see the vessel, and the Bishop showed them all about.  I was anxious to go down to his cabin, and arrange in safe nooks comforts for his use on the voyage.  In half an hour the vessel was ready to sail.  One last grasp of the hand, one loving smile, and we parted—­never to meet again on earth.’

So far this kind and much-loved friend!  And to this I cannot but add an extract from the letter she wrote to his sisters immediately after the parting, since it adds another touch to the character now ripened:—­

’I think you are a little mistaken in your notion that your brother would feel no interest in your home doings.  He has quite passed out of that early stage when the mind can dwell on nothing but its own sphere of work.  He takes a lively interest in all that is going on at home, specially in Church matters, and came back quite refreshed from Bishop’s Court with all that Bishop Cowie had told him.

’What he would really dread in England would be the being lionised, and being compelled to speak and preach here, there, and everywhere.  And yet he would have no power to say nay.  But the cold would shrivel him up, and society—­dinners, table talk—­would bore him, and he would pine for his warmth and his books.  Not a bit the less does he dearly love you all.’