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Letters from New Zealand
191
sent them off at a furious gallop. At the outskirts of the town the driver steadied his team, and, seeing a man running towards us by a side track, through the trees, said: "I will pull them up; that's Bill—he wants to say good-bye; he couldn't be there last night." He came up, gripped my hand, and, with scant breath, said, "God be with you; I've been praying for you at the Throne of Grace." "He means that," was the driver's comment.
I have been in Christchurch, resting, and preparing for my new work in South Canterbury, probably quite unlike my past experience. "How do you feel about it?" said a friend. "You've had a great time of it over there," pointing to the mountain ranges. "Somehow," I replied, "as if the romance of life was past."
I am,
Yours ever,
H. W. H.
