omnibus. At Southampton, where he embarked on September 25, he was met by the same faithful friend who had preached his consecration sermon. A small gift which he received from him on that day never left him. It was with him at the close. No wonder that when the fatal tidings eight years afterwards reached the shores of England, the scene which recurred to his friends and pupils at Marlborough, as the last expression of thoughts and feelings too deep for words, was that in which the disciples of the departing apostle mourned most of all for the words which he spake,* that they should see his face no more.'

From a Friend.

March 1858.

So you are going to India as Bishop of Calcutta! The news took me utterly by surprise, and made me feel at once both very glad and very sorry: at first perhaps more sorry than glad, for I felt at a glance the risk of the change, and how much we must lose-by 'we' meaning myself and all your English friends, Marlborough, England's Church, England's education, and indeed England altogether. However, I am determined to rejoice heartily with you and for you. You have made a great choice, and a great work is before you.

You have also, I think, a favourable season for beginning. Men's minds cannot but be seriously disposed after the terrible events of the last twelve months. The first step towards Christianity in India must be evangelising the English there, purifying English lives, ennobling English conduct—you, I know, will feel this. Yes, it will be a grand work, and I wish you all strength and grace to do it well. In many respects your character seems to me excellently fitted for the work. Let us be full of hope for you. As I write this, I think another name will now be added to my list of Indian correspondents. Yes, certainly we must write to one another, and keep up our

*The Parting at Miletus,' a sermon preached in the chapel of Marlborough College, October 21, 1866, by George Granville Bradley, M.A., Master of Marlborough College.

CH. III.]

PROSPECT OF WORK IN INDIA.

65

friendship while our lives last. It is now of some standingeight years I reckon : looking back over that time I can trace it distinctly as a peculiar blessing to me. You, I think, were the first person who led me to think seriously at all, and certainly ever since you have been a helper to all my best thoughts and purposes. And I know many others besides me can say the same thing. For all which, and your unceasing kindness and sympathy, may God bless you!

To Rev. W. J. Butler, Vicar of Wantage.

March 6, 1858.

My dear Butler,-Many many thanks for your kind letter and cheering words. I value them very much for old friendship's sake, and because we do not agree in all our opinions; 'truth and bitterness' at once you will say: I trust not, but rather love and charity. I am quite aware that I am not altogether the kind of bishop that you desire to see, but I assure you I go to my diocese with the humble hope that I may be thoroughly in earnest in my work, and impartial and ready to appreciate and encourage Christian goodness wherever I find it. When one has to try to purify English society in India on the one hand, and to make war on Vishnu, Buddha, and Mahomet on the other, the less that we think of party feuds within Christ's Church the better. Yes, you have triumphed ; I am already half a doctor: the grace past on Thursday, and a scarlet hood has arrived.

I suppose that we shall not go till autumn. An earlier departure seems useless for we cannot go at once, and to start an Indian life in summer is said to be mere folly. I should like to come to Wantage, but will make no promise yet. I have got some books on India, an aide de camp from Oxford to take most of my teaching off my hands, and wish to stay here quietly, keep the general government of the school, read and prepare for the unknown but most formidable future.

Perhaps I may try to make out a lecture on India, but I will promise nothing at present. Meantime, I am sure you will sometimes pray that God's blessing may be with your old schoolfellow in work which he neither asked for nor desired.

F

From a former Pupil.

Wednesday, May 12, 1858.

As I cannot come up to see your consecration I shall like to write to you once more, for the last time, before the name by which I have known you for more than sixteen years has ceased to be the beginning of my letters to you. I wish that I could have been at the service to-morrow, but I did not see how I could get away from my work, and perhaps it is as well as it is. I shall be at my ordinary work while you are being consecrated to another and more important part of God's work, and I shall gladly hail the thoughts which this remembrance will bring with it, while I am trying to extract Greek and Latin prose from reluctant boys, as helping me to realise, what it is so easy to hold as an opinion, that my daily work must be made the real hearty service of God if I am ever to serve Him in another way in His own immediate presence. I do not doubt that He will be with you by His spirit to-morrow, and in your new work; and I pray that He will give you richly that love and strength and wise judgment which are His own most precious blessings to those whom He chooses to be His servants. Our Lord and Saviour, yours and mine, I trust will surely show Himself more clearly to you year by year, and help you to enlarge His kingdom, and by doing His will to know Him perfectly. I do not like to speak of any sorrow that it will be to me to lose you at such a time as this, and so I must turn to the other view and be thankful, as for a most treasured gift, that for all these years your friendship and counsel and help and influence have been near me, and shaped my views of life, and led me to bridge over the chasm between the common and the Christian life. You know that I have sometimes tried to hint at this; and though I am not much in the habit of speaking out strong feelings, for it is better not, yet once for all, before we cease to bear the relation we have borne so long, I should like to say that if Christianity is, or is to be, to me a living principle and not a weary burden, it is to you that I owe it.

CH. III.]

CLERICAL AND LAY WORK.

67

To an old Pupil, a Layman, written on the morning of his

Consecration.

May 13, 1858. 8.45 A.M.

I will send you the last familiar signature, the last, that is, unless I live to lay down this burthen and spend an old age in England, which I am not sure that I desire and which, at all events, I can most truly say that I leave cheerfully and confidently in God's hands. A thousand thanks for your letter, which is a great comfort. Let my last presbyteral avowal be a declaration of my conviction that your work, if done in the faith of Christ, is as much His work as mine.

JOURNAL-FAREWELL

CHAPTER IV.

TO FRIENDS IN ENGLAND-CAIRO-PRESENTATION OF THE MAHMEL OR SACRED CANOPY TO THE PASHA-VISIT TO THE ARMENIAN PATRIARCH-THE COPTIC CHURCH-MAHOMETAN FESTIVALSLIFE ON BOARD SHIP-ADEN-CEYLON-MADRAS-ARRIVAL AT CALCUTTA -INSTALLATION IN THE CATHEDRAL-STATE OF AFFAIRS IN INDIAPOSITION OF THE BISHOP-NATURE OF THE WORK TO BE DONE-JOURNAL EXTRACTS-LETTERS.

THE story of Bishop Cotton's voyage from England, and of the beginning of his life in India, will be best told in his own words.

September 27, 1858.-I will try now to begin a regular journal of my Indian episcopate. I have kept many diaries and memoranda before of a private character-this possibly may contain some things of more general importance. May all that is in it, whether personal or domestic or public, be written in the love of Jesus Christ, with the great objects to which I have devoted myself constantly before me, in thankfulness to God for past mercies, with the hope and effort after present and future usefulness steadily in view, in dependence on His protection, and with the one desire to consecrate my private and public life to His glory.

Several last things' in England were solemn and appropriate. My last sermon was to the Augustinians, the students of a college from which I trust may flow many blessings to India. My last regular Sunday service was in Canterbury Cathedral, the birthplace of English Christianity, and endeared to me privately by the thought of Stanley. My last service of any kind was in Westminster Abbey, where I worshipped in boyhood and where I was consecrated to the office of Bishop. My last visit was to Weybridge, to the grave of dear Conybeare, my closest and in one sense my oldest friend. We were accompanied