’ J. K.

‘Don’t trouble yourself to write, but think of us.’

Of course there was no obeying this postscript, and the immediate reply was:—­

’My dear dear Mr. Keble,—­Few things have ever given me more real pleasure than the receipt of your letter by this mail.  I never doubted your interest in New Zealand and Melanesia, and your affection for me for my dear Father’s sake.  I felt quite sure that prayers were being offered up for us in many places, and where more frequently than at Hursley?  Even as on this day, five years ago, when I touched the reef at Guadalcanar, in the presence of three hundred armed and naked men, (I heard afterwards) prayers were being uttered in the dead of your night by my dear old governess, Miss Neill, that God would have me in His safe keeping.  But it is most pleasant, most helpful to me, to read your letter, and to feel that I have a kind of right now to write to you, as I hope I may do while I live fully and freely.

’I do not say a word concerning the idea some of you in England seem to take of my life here.  It is very humbling to me, as it ought to be, to read such a letter from you.  How different it is really!

’If my dear sisters do come out to me for a while, which, after their letters by this February mail, seems less impossible than before, they will soon see what I mean:  a missionary’s life does not procure him any immunity from temptations, nor from falling into them; though, thanks be to God, it has indeed its rich and abundant blessings.  It is a blessed thing to draw a little fellow, only six months ago a wild little savage, down upon one’s knee, and hear his first confession of his past life, and his shy hesitating account of the words he uses when he prays to his newly-found God and Saviour.  These are rare moments, but they do occur; and, if they don’t, why the duty is to work all the same.

’The intelligence of some of these lads and young men really surprises me.  Some with me now, last October were utterly wild, never had worn a stitch of clothing, were familiar with every kind of vice.  They now write an account of a Scripture print, or answer my Ms. questions without copy, of course, fairly and legibly in their books, and read their own language—­only quite lately reduced to writing—­with ease.  What an encouragement!  And this applies to, I think, the great majority of these islanders.

’One child, I suppose some thirteen or fourteen years of age, I baptized on Christmas Day.  Three days afterwards I married her to a young man who had been for some years with us.  They are both natives of Nengone, one of the Loyalty Isles.  I administered the Holy Eucharist to her last Saturday, and she is dying peacefully of consumption.  What a blessed thing!  This little one, fresh from Baptism, with all Church ministrations round her, passing gently away to her eternal rest.  She looks at me with her soft dark eyes, and fondles my hand, and says she is not unhappy.  She has, I verily believe, the secret of real happiness in her heart.