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Rh who have made us what we are, and whose far-reaching influence sends us all over the world, making the ocean our pathway to new Homes which we establish, as our forefathers did, even in the uttermost parts of the earth. At present nearly all here are Colonists, transplanted, but their affections deeply rooted in the old Home life they have left. In a few years their children will be Colonials, loyal, no doubt, to the idea of their old Mother Country, and to some extent interested in what they hear or read about it. But there must be, I fancy, much wanting. I am tempted to quote the old Horatian maxim:

("Things heard stir the imagination far less than things seen.")

How will this affect us in our Church work here? Even the uneducated rustic at home, familiar with his old Parish Church is probably more aware of the history of bygone centuries than is possible for those to whom the only visible symbol of the past is a decent wooden tabernacle in a wilderness.

Occupied as everyone on a Goldfield is, with the business of making money, there is nevertheless no lack of theological discussion. Here is an instance: A few nights ago, a Plymouth brother, one of a small but proselytising community, called on me, with the view of converting me from the error of my ways; a travelling hawker of wares for miners in remote places, a man of imperfect education, but with a soul above tapes, buttons, and the draper's business. After some remarks from myself, he said, "But I could not worship in All Saints, because I could not be sure that those who are there are Christians."