colonial life.  Our rooms are quite large enough, bigger than my room at Feniton, but no furniture, of course, beyond a bedstead, a table for writing, and an old bookcase; but it is never cold enough to care about furniture...  I clean, of course, my room in part, make my bed, help to clear away things after meals, &c., and am quite accustomed to do without servants for anything but cooking.  There is a weaving room, which used to be well worked, a printing press (from C. M. S.) which has done some good work, and is now at work again—­English, Maori, Greek and Hebrew types.  Separate groups of buildings, which once were filled with lads from different Melanesian isles—­farm buildings, barns, &c.  Last of all, the little chapel of kauri wood, stained desk, like the inside of a really good ecclesiastical building in England, porch S.W. angle, a semicircular apse at the west, containing a large handsome stone font, open seats of course.  The east end very simple, semicircular apse, small windows all full of stained glass, raised one step, no rails, the Bishop’s chair on the north side, bench on the south.  Here my eye and my mind rested contentedly and peacefully.  The little chapel, holding about seventy persons, is already dear to me.  I preached in it last night at the seven o’clock service.  We chanted the Unity Psalms CXXII, CXXIII, CXXIV, and CL, heartily, all joining to a dear old double chant in parts.  I felt my heart very full as I spoke to them of the blessedness of prayer and spiritual communion.  I was at Tamaki in the morning, where I read prayers, the Archdeacon preaching.  A little stone church, very rude and simple, but singing again good, and congregation of fifty-one, attentive.  At Panmure, about three miles off, in the afternoon, a tiny wooden church—­where Abraham took all the duty.  In the evening, in the chapel, he read prayers, and I preached to about thirty-five or forty people.  We left the chapel just as you were getting ready for breakfast, and so passed my first Sunday in New Zealand.  To-day I have had hard work; I walked with Abraham to Auckland—­six miles of rough work, I promise you, except the two last.

I believe it was in the course of this walk that Patteson experimented on his Maori, a native whom they visited, and who presently turned upon the Archdeacon, and demanded, ’Why do you not speak like Te Pattihana?’ Such a compliment has seldom been paid on so early an attempt at colloquialism in a new language.  Journal continues:—­

’Lugged down boxes, big empty ones, from the Judge’s house to the beach.  Went with the Bishop to the old ship, packed up books, brought away all our things almost, helped to pack them in a cart and drag, and then walked back to the College, which I reached in the dark at 7.30.  It is delightful to see the delight of the natives when they see the Bishop.  “E—­h te Pikopa!” and then they all come round him like children, laughing and talking.  Two common men we met on Friday