For some time we were fortunate in finding rivers low, and having no occasion to camp out at night. At every station there were gatherings for service, giving the Bishop an opportunity of personal acquaintance with all sorts and conditions of men. After passing Te Maru we went out of our direct way, up a valley, to a house built by a sheepfarmer on a ridge, ending abruptly in a deep gully, full of luxuriant grass and underwood. He was absent, but his wife welcomed us, asking the Bishop to remain for the afternoon, to baptize her two children, and see her husband on his return. Dinner over, I was on the hill-side, attending to the horses, when I noticed a thick cloud of smoke rising at the head of the valley, whilst a fierce Nor'west wind, which had suddenly sprung up, was driving it down the gully towards the house. A shepherd came running towards me and said that a grass fire was tearing down the gully like a regiment of soldiers, and must soon reach the house. It came on with such rapidity that, with him, I had barely time to rush to the house and call out to the Bishop and our hostess to come out at once, whilst I picked up the children who were playing in the verandah and carried them out of danger to the hill-side. Turning back, I saw that they had not left the house, which was enveloped in smoke and flame, the garden fence ablaze, and apparently the roof on fire. The wind was so furious that it drove the fire past the house, before it could ignite it, leaving it scorched and blackened. Going into it as soon as possible, I found that the mother had fainted, and the Bishop had remained with her. Her husband soon returned, having seen the fire in the distance, little thinking of the narrow escape of his home and family. The Bishop then held
