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Letters from New Zealand
49
way to Christchurch, and without further adventure reached it, as it happened, just in time for the five o'clock evening service at St. Michael's Church. Riding up to the gate that led into the church grounds, we found there one or two clergy, who at first could hardly recognize the Bishop in his travel-stained clothes; from head to foot he was mud-coloured, his gaiters bound together with flax, his episcopal hat quite disreputable. They had heard but little of us for many weeks.
This has been a long yarn, I hope it has not tried your patience too much. It will give you some idea of what a Bishop has to tackle in a new country like this.
I am, Yours, etc.,
H. W. H.
