years, and being well settled in the saddle, I am inclined to remain there.
"I'll give you two years to stay there," was said to me, when I first came here, by a somewhat cynical visitor, in the early rough days of the place. Eight years have passed, perhaps the most satisfactory I shall ever have. Whatever the failures and defects of one's work may have been, with such evidences of God's blessing in it all, I often muse upon it, and wonder at it, with unspeakable thanksgivings.
Since writing this, the matter has arranged itself. Petitions from all parts of the District have been sent to the Bishop, asking him to exercise his authority, and bid me remain. He has done so, with the proviso that at no very distant date he may have to transfer me to another part of the Diocese.
I cannot help telling you of some words which greeted me the other day, as I was walking in a forest track. Passing a sawmill, one of the men came out, and said: "So we're going to keep you? That's right; they can find plenty to do the work over there, but you belong to us," and, with hearty hand-shake, he went back to the saws, which were hissing through the big white pine logs.
