“Quite true, Joe; I wished the thought to work itself out in your own mind, and then I thought it right to speak first to your father.”

’I told him that I could offer but “a small and that an uncertain salary” should he be ordained five years hence; and that he ought to think of that, that there was nothing worldly in his wishing to secure a maintenance by-and-by for wife and child, and that I much doubted my power to provide it.  But this did not at all shake either his father or him.  I have a great regard for the lad, and I know you have.’

From that time forward reading with and talking with ‘Joe Atkin’ was one of the chief solaces of the Bishop’s life, though at present the young man was only on trial, and could not as yet fill the place of Mr. Benjamin Dudley, who, soon after the voyage, married, and returned to Canterbury settlement.  The loss was felt, as appears in the following:—­

’Kohimarama; Saturday, 1 P.M., Feb. 7, 1863.

’My dearest Sisters,—­I have a heavy cold, so you must expect a stupid letter.  I am off in an hour or two for a forty-mile ride, to take to-morrow’s services (four) among soldiers and settlers.  The worst of it is that I have no chance of sleep at the end, for the mosquitos near the river are intolerable.  How jolly it would be, nevertheless, if you were here, and strong enough to make a sort of picnic ride of it.  I do it this way:  strap in front of the saddle a waterproof sheet, with my silk gown, Prayer-book, brush and comb, razor and soap, a clean tie, and a couple of sea biscuits.  Then at about 3 P.M. off I go.  About twenty miles or so bring me to Papakura, an ugly but good road most of the way.  Here there is an inn.  I stop for an hour and a half, give the horse a good feed, and have my tea.  At about 7.30 or 8 I start again, and ride slowly along a good road this dry weather.  The moon rises at 9.30, and by that time I shall be reaching the forest, through which a good military road runs.  This is the part of the road I should like to show you.  Such a night as this promises to be!  It will be beautiful.  About 11 I reach a hut made of reeds on the very brink of the river, tether the horse, give him a feed, which I carry with me from Papakura, light a fire (taking matches) inside the hut, and try to smoke away mosquitos, lie down in your plaid, Joan—­do you remember giving it to me?—­and get what sleep I can.  To-morrow I work my way home again, the fourth service being at Papakura at 4 P.M., so I ought to be at Kohimarama by 9 P.M., dead tired I expect.  I think these long days tire me more than they did; and I really do see not a few white hairs, a dozen or so, this is quite right and respectable.