"The girls, too, are pretty and pleasant, great at tennis and archery, besides being musical. The father subscribes liberally to the county charities, and is hand-and-glove with the parson, who says he is unusually well read. So you are in danger of being forgotten--do you hear, sir?--and serve you right, by all but _a very few_, who still think occasionally of the _rightful owner_ of Massinger Court and Chase; among whom I am proud to enrol myself, and (this _is_ the last sheet) remain "Always yours very sincerely, "ELIZABETH MERIVALE." * * * * * The dawn was breaking on the morning of a cold and gusty day, as the shivering men of the No. 2 Company of the Forest Rangers were drying themselves at an indifferent fire, when Warwick held up a warning hand. "Some one coming." Mr. Slyde lifted his rifle carelessly, and remarked, "A morning call. One of our scouts, or a _toa_ bent on death or glory. He should have come last night, when we were too tired to cook supper; now I feel as if a brush with the 'hostiles' would revive me." "It's no native," affirmed Warwick. "He has boots on, and is walking too fast for a surprise party. Here he comes." As he spoke, the bush parted, and a plainly dressed man in dark clothes walked rapidly across the open ground in front of the camp. "By Jove, it's the bishop!" said Mr. Slyde. Then advancing, he bowed, and in deeply respectful tones greeted the apostolic prelate who departed so seriously from the modern manner of bishops of the Established Church. "I am afraid, my lord, that you have had an uncomfortable journey; you must have started early if you came from Pukerimu." "Comfort and I have long been at odds," said the stranger--for it was indeed George Augustus Selwyn, the famous Bishop of New Zealand, who stood there drenched to the skin, with the water dripping from his garments--"and will be until this unhappy war is over. The fact is, that I heard through a native convert that the missionaries at Ohaupo were in danger, so I started at midnight to warn them. The creek was flooded, or I should not have looked so much like a drowned rat." Massinger, who had been gazing intently at the devoted Churchman of whom he had heard such wondrous stories--tales of his courage, his athletic feats, his influence among the natives, his eloquence, his tender treatment of the wounded on both sides--was lost in admiration as he gazed at the expressive countenance, so noble in its simplicity. He now came forward with an offer of a change of garments. "My friend, Lieutenant Massinger," said Mr. Slyde, introducing him. "He has only joined recently, and, indeed, is but lately from England."