still carried on, and were even
extended in their range. In 1848 the bishop sailed away eastward, out of
sight of land, in a small schooner of 21 tons, and after ten days
reached the Chathams; in 1849 he even ventured in the same vessel far to
the northward among the coral islands of Melanesia. In 1847 he had held
a second synod, and there were some cheering occurrences among the
Maoris, especially in the south-west district. At Otaki, for instance,
the bishop found 300 men, with Rauparaha at their head, engaged in
raising the great pillars of a splendid church, around which a town (to
be called "Hadfield") was being laid out. At Wanganui the Rev. R. Taylor
held remarkable Christmas gatherings each year. From every _pa_ on the
banks, a contingent, headed by its native teacher, would come down the
river to Wanganui. The thousands who thus assembled were publicly
examined for some days as to their Christian conduct, and some hundreds
were admitted to the Holy Communion, which had to be celebrated in the
open field. At one of these meetings two chiefs volunteered to carry the
Gospel to a hostile tribe at Taupo. They went, and were both murdered.
One of them, after being disabled, lingered from morning until sunset,
and all through these hours of agony was praying for his murderers that
they might receive the light.

But, on the whole, a note of sadness makes itself heard throughout the
period. Some of the missionaries, like Maunsell, can "watch the clouds
pass overhead," and thank God that the storms of war and of false
accusation leave them untouched. But none can feel altogether happy
amidst the troubles of his brethren. Hadfield is stricken with a mortal
illness, and lies helpless for four years in Wellington. Reay dies at
Waiapu, and Bolland at Taranaki. This last-named excellent priest was a
brother-in-law of the saintly Whytehead, and carried some of the elder
man's inspiring influence into the building and furnishing of the stone
church at New Plymouth. His death was greatly mourned by his people, as
well as by Selwyn, who confessed a special regard for this beautiful
portion of his diocese, and now felt that a holy memory had shed upon it
a peculiar lustre. Nelson was hardly keeping up to its early rate of
progress, and its central mound, instead of a church bore an ugly fort,
into which the nervous townsfolk passed over a drawbridge for their
Sunday worship. Wellington was still unsatisfactory, its one wooden
chur