’May 10.—­It is, I find, quite settled, and was indeed always, that I am to go always with the Bishop, roving about the Melanesian department, so that for some years, if I live, I shall be generally six months at sea.  And not little to my delight, I find that the six winter months (i.e. your summer months) are the ones that we shall spend in sailing about the islands within or near the tropics, so that I shall have little more shivering limbs or blue hands, though I may feel in the long run the effect of a migratory swallow-like life.  But the sea itself is a perpetual tonic, and when I am thoroughly accustomed to a sea life, I think I shall be better almost on board ship.’

This seems the place for Bishop Selwyn’s impression, as written to a friend at this very time.  ’Coley Patteson is a treasure which I humbly set down as a Divine recompense for our own boys*.  He is a good fellow, and the tone of his mind is one which I can thoroughly enjoy, content with the ‘to aei’ present, yet always aiming at a brighter and better future.’

(Footnote:  Left at home for education.)

’June 18.—­You must think of us at 8 P.M. on Sundays—­just at 8.20 A.M. before you come down to prayers.  The Bishop has a service in the College chapel; then, after all the “runners” (clergy who have district chapels) have returned, chanting Psalms, and reading collects, which bear especially on the subject of unity, introducing the special Communion thanksgiving for Whitsunday, and the Sanctus, and the Prayer for Unity in the Accession Service.  I feel that it must be an impressive and very happy way of ending the Sunday, and you will be at Sunday prayers at the other end of the world praying with us.

’July 3.—­Still at sea.  As soon as we rounded the North Cape on Friday, June 29, a contrary wind sprang up, and we have been beating about, tacking between North Cape and Cape Brett ever since.  Fine sunny weather and light winds, but always from the south.  To me it is a matter of entire indifference; I am quite ready to go ashore, but do not mind a few more days at sea.  The climate is delightful, thermometer on deck 55° to 60°, and such glorious sunsets!  There is really something peculiar in the delicacy of the colours here—­faint pink and blue, and such an idea of distance is given by the great transparency of the air.  It is full moon too now, and I walk the deck from eleven to twelve every night with no great-coat, thinking about you all and my future work.  Last night the Bishop was with me, and told me definitely about my occupation for the time to come.  All day we have been slowly, very slowly, passing along from the north headland of the Bay of Islands to Cape Brett, and along the land south of it.  A fine coast it is, full of fine harbours and creeks, the bay itself like a large Torbay, only bolder.  Due south of us is the Bream headland, then the Barrier Islands.  We are only about a mile from the shore, and refreshing