At every turn one is met by disheartening warnings.

"Oh, the people here are very different to those in the old country; they would look upon it as impertinence if you suggested they should come to church." "You will find a few may come just at first, and then when the novelty wears off and they have seen all the pretty things in your drawing room, not a soul will ever come near the place." "If even the men don't say something very free and easy to you when you invite them to your house on Sunday afternoons, you may depend upon it that after two or three weeks you will not know how to keep them in order." Such, and many more, were the discouraging remarks made when I consulted my neighbours about my plan for collecting the shepherds from the surrounding runs, and holding a Church of England Service every Sunday afternoon at our own little homestead.

To my mind, the distances seemed the greatest obstacle, as many of the men I wanted to reach lived twenty-five or even thirty miles away, with very rough country between.
I had no fear of impertinence, for it is unknown to me, and seldom comes, I fancy, unprovoked; whilst with regard to the novelty wearing off and the men ceasing to attend, that must be left in God's hands.

We could only endeavour to plant the good seed, and trust to Him to give the increase.

It was a great comfort to me in those early days that F----, who had been many years in the colony, never joined in the disheartening prophecies I have alluded to.