Page:Letters from New Zealand (Harper).djvu/199

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Letters from New Zealand
169

enable to breathe. In his sudden descent he had clutched at the blanket on his bunk, and they found him with it, and the frying-pan, which he had also stuck to, little the worse for his marvellous adventure.

Nothing can exceed the self-sacrificing efforts of these miners in attempting rescue, nor do they ever seem to look for applause or reward, taking it all in the day's work. My own experience is that I could never wish for a finer lot of men to work amongst, and wherever I go in future I shall never regret these days spent among them.

On our return journey heavy rain set in, and our passage across the lake and river was rough. It did not matter so much to me and my boatman, as, although completely drenched, we had a two hours' row, which kept us warm, but the Bishop in the stern sheets fared badly, and was laid up for some days with a severe cold. He is wonderfully vigorous for his age, and with his cheerful temperament makes light of hardships which would disconcert many a younger man.

I remember hearing the driver of the overland coach speaking of him, as he was returning to Christchurch after one of his visits to Westland. Shepherd was a character, a New Jersey American, a splendid whip, a man of very few words, but much to the point. "When we reached the Otira Pass, Archdeacon, I had the Bishop with me, and several young men, two of them globe-trotters, who had been talking big of what they could do; snow began to fall, and was drifting in places atop of the pass, the horses getting their feet balled. Says the Bishop, 'Mr. Shepherd, I'm going to walk, to save the horses till we get out of these drifts,' and he gets down and plods on in fine