"Massinger of the Court? Surely not!" said the bishop, with an air of much interest. "How strange that we should meet thus! I knew your people well before I left England. I will not ask you how you came to be thus engaged, but must content myself with declining your courteous offer. We are all in one boat as to discomfort. I am only bearing my share of the common burden; and, indeed, I believe that were I to trouble my head about these trifling privations, I should lose my robust health, and, like some of my poor native parishioners, become a prey to ordinary ailments."
At this stage of the interview an orderly arrived with a pressing invitation from the senior officer of the Forest Rangers, who trusted that his lordship would not delay joining their mess at breakfast; so, with a hearty expression of thanks and adieu, this devoted soldier of the Church Militant departed with the orderly, every soldier within sight saluting as he passed.
"That's a man, if you like!" said Mr. Slyde. "If there were more like him, no other religion would have a chance with ours. Travelled on foot from coast to coast—in all weathers, too. Night or day, high water or low, hot or cold, all alike to him. Opposed to the war, too, back and edge. Government taken his advice, never have broken out."
"And now, what is his work?"
"Peace and good will on earth. Can't be hoped for just yet, of course. Making the best of it now, until the end comes. Risked his life over and over again. Worst of it, natives beginning to doubt him—fired at him, indeed. Feels it bitterly, they say. Been advised to keep out of the way. Scorns prudence. Says it's his duty to go to the front. Careful only about other men's lives."
"I've often heard of him," said Massinger; "I'm thankful now that I've seen him. It does one good to meet an apostle in the flesh."
"Not an extra religious man myself," said Mr. Slyde; "but deep respect for the man, apart from his cloth. Black his boots any day, and feel proud to do it, by Jove!"
Breakfast concluded, there were certain military duties to be observed, at the conclusion of which the lieutenant made his way to headquarters, hoping for an interview with this heroic personage. To his regret, he found that, with characteristic rapidity of action, he had already departed, but had found time to write hastily the note which was now handed to him. It ran as follows:—
"My dear Young Friend (if I may so address you),
"You can hardly imagine the mingled feelings which your presence in this camp called up. Your county adjoins mine, and I have heard of your family ever since I can remember. Knowing its position, I can hardly imagine what could have brought about your departure from the land we all hold so dear.
"Mine was a call, imperative and irresistible. I could not refuse to perform my Master's work. I should have, perhaps, been unduly puffed up by the success of my previous efforts, had not this disastrous war come to lower my pride. I have been chastened, God only knows how severely. May it be for my soul's good! You are in the ranks of those who are fighting—some in defence of a policy of injustice; others, like yourself, I feel certain, merely as a protest against the domination of a savage race—in defence of the hearths and homes which a victorious foe would desecrate. Of the inception of the war you and your friend, Mr. Slyde, I know, are innocent.
"Among our native allies, the Ngapuhi and the Rarawa tribes have ever been true and faithful. The chiefs Waka Nene and Patuone, in their steadfast adherence to the Christian faith and unswerving loyalty to our Queen, may well serve as examples to men in high position. Farewell! and may He who is able to save both body and soul, preserve you through all dangers, now and evermore.
"Believe me to be
"Most truly yours,
"G. A. New Zealand."