and Fanny might come back we would never, never quarrel any more." Are
not such pricks of conscience common to us all when our dear ones leave
us? But the past never returns!

In 1863, the Bishop built a charming little yawl for mission work. The
_Fanny_ was just suited, from her light draught of water, to cross the
bars of the rivers, and she was a very good sea-boat too. Not only was
she wanted to take the Bishop on his missionary, tours, but she brought
the missionaries to Sarawak when, they came for ordinations, or the
annual synod; also when they were sick, and required medical aid or
change. Very few clergymen know much about the management of boats, and
native crafts are very unsafe, so that until the Bishop had a yacht many
accidents used to occur, not actually dangerous, for the natives swim
like fishes, but drenchings and loss of goods from the upsetting of
boats. In the north-east monsoon _Fanny_ was thatched over and laid
snugly up a creek, but all the south-west monsoon she was very useful;
and no one wanted to travel about, if they could help it, during the wet
tempestuous weather which prevailed from November to March.

The Bishop paid his annual visit to Labuan in any steamer which happened
to be going. We had the great advantage of frequent visits from an
English gunboat, for the admiral of the Chinese seas had orders from
England to tell off one gun-boat for the two stations of Labuan and
Sarawak. This arose from our being also blest with the presence of an
English consul. But after he and his wife had remained two years at
Sarawak, they were heartily tired of the dulness of their lives, and did
their best to get removed to a more stirring station. However, the
recognition of England gave confidence to native traders and security to
the well disposed, so that there ensued a time of peace such as we had
not experienced during our former sojourns in the country.

[Illustration: Tommy. Fanny. Mary. Mab. Sarah. Nietfong.

SCHOOL CHILDREN. _Page_ 194.]

I think the history of our life during these years may be partly told by
the letters I wrote to my children at home, or extracts from them; so
that this may be called the children's chapter.

Sunday before Easter, 1862.

MY DARLING MAB,

I am glad you are not here, for it is very, very hot, and you
would probably have a bad headache. Julia is sitting in the
verandah teaching Polly, Sarah, Fanny, and Phoebe the Easter
hymn f