home for sanitary reasons, to Bath, to Homburg, to Arcachon and Pau, where he held confirmations; in the winter of 1879 to Ajaccio, in Corsica, where he was accompanied by his wife and daughters, and returned home by Rome and Florence. And in 1883 to Neuenahr-Bad, in the Rhine Valley, when he accompanied his brother-in-law and his family, and went on with them to Baden-Baden and the Black Forest. Corsica suited him, and as he found at Ajaccio an English church and an invalid curate in charge, as was his wont he took much of the clerical duty upon himself, his daughters managing the music; but it seems doubtful whether any of these continental visits were of any real benefit to his health. On their arrival from Florence in 1880, they were both laid up at Kensington with very serious illnesses. The truth was, that to seek health abroad with effect required more health to begin with than they possessed at that time. Change and sunshine, the best possible remedies for chronic ailments, seem insufficient to compensate for the risk incurred when there is a tendency to more acute maladies. Mrs. McDougall made wonderfully light of her illnesses. She had a severe attack of pleurisy in 1879, and described it to her sister as her chest having rebelled a little,' and it was the same with accidents from which she suffered while at Winchester, in one of which she broke the bones of her wrist.

As regards the Bishop himself, it was struggle, very painful to his friends to witness.

often a hard One of them,

the Rev. C. R. Conybeare (who did not, however, live to survive him), well expressed their feelings when he wrote in November 1883: We all so grieved on Monday to see your suffering state, while we the more admired the heroic pluck which carried you to the front, when you ought to have been nursed at the rear. You were a sermon and example that I shall not forget, and when I saw you suffering, I felt shame at my so often yielding to my smaller ailments.' In February 1884 his wife wrote of him from Milford: 'There is no

doubt but that the air of this place suits him. Whenever he goes anywhere else for a few days he comes back the worse, partly because travelling upsets him, and partly because he is exposed to the weather in going about. And now confirmation season begins. He is to-day holding confirmations at Thames Ditton and Esher, which take him three days, and I am always thankful to get him back.'

Family events succeeded one another, but have little interest beyond the domestic circle. In 1877 his second daughter was married to the Rev. C. H. Turner, in Winchester Cathedral, which never looked more beautiful than upon that brilliant July morning as the bridal procession moved up the long nave to meet the Bishop of Winchester, who performed the ceremony. There was a large family gathering, and, as is usually the case on such occasions, it was a day of chequered lights and shadows. In 1881 Lady Mildred Hope died, which was a great grief to them all. On Advent Sunday, 1882, Archbishop Tait died, and the important question which touched our Bishop very nearly arose as to the succession to the Primacy. General expectation pointed to the Bishop of Winchester as the fittest person to fill the marble chair of St. Augustine, and he would undoubtedly have done so with universal approval, had not an unwritten rule been for some time adopted in high quarters, which enjoined that beyond the traditionary term of three score years and ten no one should be called to assume that pre-eminent position. The result was a great disappointment to his friends, and especially to Bishop McDougall, who, however, had the consolation of finding that no separation would take place between them. In this year Mrs. McDougall published her book, Sketches of our Life in Sarawak.' Nearly thirty years before, she had written a little book, entitled 'Letters from Sarawak addressed to a Child,' the letters having been actually written to her little boy Charlie, who died in 1854. Many thousands of this first book had been sold, and on its

falling out of print and on looking it over with a view to republication, she had thought it better to extend the story through the twenty years during which Sarawak had been their home. It is admirably written, and full of interest. In 1883 Bishop Colenso died, and in the same year Bishop and Mrs. McDougall travelled to Fowberry Tower in Northumberland, to be present at the marriage of their only son, to Maud, a daughter of Mr. Andrew Knowles, of Manchester. In this year Dean Bramston resigned the deanery of Winchester, and was succeeded by Dean Kitchin.

In the autumn of 1884, Bishopstowe House, in Natal, was burnt down with an almost total loss of Mrs. Colenso's material possessions. In a letter dated October 12, Mrs. McDougall wrote to her sister: 'When I received your last letter, written about twelve days before the fire, I felt glad that you had some warning of the misfortune. I am also thankful that it did not take place during the night when you were undressed and scarcely awake, which adds to the terror. Still it must have been an awful sight to witness, and I cannot say how much we all admire your courage and the presence of mind which saved all the live creatures first, and then, what was most cherished by you all, the Bishop's portrait, correspondence, and MSS., without caring for plate and valuables. Ah! when dear lives are at stake, or even dear memories, of how little consequence seem other possessions! I often see people's happiness sacrificed to their love of old furniture, and I never could get up any sympathy for it. I have been keeping my room with a bronchial attack, and lately I have been poring over the first volume of F. D. Maurice's Life. It is in some respects depressing. His elder sisters were people of the strongest characters. They had bad health too, which made them tyrannical. He was so very humble, that I am sure that he must sit in high places in the better world. After reading his letters I thought there was a likeness between him and

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our dear Bishop Colenso, so I read through again those three sermons which you sent me, and although there would be a great divergence of opinion between the two, I think that they were somewhat alike-alike, at any rate in being God's saints and endowed with the Holy Spirit of God. It seems strange that, much as we loved Mr. Maurice, no mention should be made of us in his memoirs; still it could not be otherwise, he never kept journals, and the few letters that we had from him were destroyed at Sarawak.' The letters had been placed together in a drawer and carried off by some irreverent rats to line their nests with. I believe that Col. Maurice, the eldest son, who edits the Life, which is very well written indeed, is a man quite worthy of his father. I wish we knew him; he will be a great soldier, perhaps, some day, and has already distinguished himself.'

And again, speaking in a later letter of Mr. Maurice, she says: I think that his is a very sad life, but I can understand the look of triumph on his dead face. Happy, holy saint! I am sure that he and your dear Bishop understand each other now. Would that some whispers from that other world could reach us!' It is, however, just possible that this melancholy view of Mr. Maurice's life is not wholly correcthis fervent and energetic manner in the pulpit, and still more in the reading desk, was very impressive, and may have suggested it, as well as the tone of many of his letters; but he was a man of high social qualities, and could and did enjoy the pleasures of friendship, and take the most vivid interest in the public and intellectual life of his time.

Although herself a humble and earnest Christian, Mrs. McDougall possessed a very inquiring mind, and all through her life was fond of reading theological and controversial books. In one of her last letters, written in the closing year of her life, she wrote: 'Dr. sent me a pamphlet of his the other day. He has been translating the Clementine Homilies, which he thinks support his Unitarian leanings.

He

dared not send them to Frank, but I shall be glad to see them at any rate. Poor man! he is not happy.'

6

Writing to the same correspondent on the death of Cetewayo, she put the Zulu question in a nutshell. In the absence of British rule, there wants one head who will be powerful enough and popular enough to quiet the country. Cetewayo was bound down not to fight, so he was simply a prey to his enemies. If the Government had not trammelled him with promises which he was too faithful to break, he would have been that head.'

And on January 25, 1885, to Mrs. Colenso: 'I should have written before, but have been ill and idle for some weeks. An attack of pleurisy on the top of spasmodic asthma makes breathing a trouble. It reminds me of our dear sister; she used to have these attacks, but not latterly; then bronchitis was her enemy, and, indeed, her last illness. I have been much better since we came to Milford-by-the-Sea, but time, I think, wears out the effect of change of air. Frank is very much out of health. No one knows any remedy for dyspepsia arising from gout, and only those who have it know the pain of it.

'Time moves very fast with us now. The Chapter at Winchester will be completely changed this year, and my dear husband the only one remaining of the Chapter of eleven years ago.' And then she goes on to describe the new Dean and Chapter, with words of praise and admiration for all, but too short a time has passed since they were written to repeat them.

In referring to the old Chapter it is difficult to pass by any name unmentioned, but one must be spoken of—that of the Rev. W. Carus. The chief of a section in the Church not always very sympathetic to those not numbered with it, his large heart and abundant Christian charity united him in the bonds of affection with all his brethren, and especially with. the McDougalls.

When he resigned his stall in the Cathe