An enthusiastic Liberal, eighty-two years of age, sent the following letter from Auckland:—
“I thank you from the bottom of my heart for the noble stand you are making to benefit our colony and to conciliate our kindred and neighbours abroad. We remember your sickness and weakness and weariness, and we know that those who are on your side are greater, more powerful, and outnumber those who are opposed to you. I write to bid you go forward: do not falter or faint. If God be for us, who shall be against us? Your work is before the whole world, and is being copied everywhere; but the battle is still raging, and the fight must go on. We shall need you for our leader to the very end of the conflict.
‘For the life of our leader, aye, now we plead,
Oh, spare him Lord, our country’s need.
Oh, lengthen out his earthly span,
God save our chief—our Grand Old Man.’
“I wrote the ‘Liberal March,’ and these words appear in the ‘Liberal March’ of twelve years ago, and they are still applicable, and we must and will pray for you to be spared. Sir George Grey was my master, and at his dictation I wrote that well-known telegram to you ‘to go forward,’ and to-day I say, ‘Thank God for your life and work.’”
Mr. Seddon is credited by a London newspaper with having given the loudest shout heard in the streets of London in these times. It was during the coronation festivities, when the colonial military contingents were marching along the Mall. A stand had been erected for the distinguished representatives of Greater Britain. Sir Wilfred Laurier, the Prime Minister of Canada, was astonished at the apathy of the crowd, and said: “These people want waking up. I say, Seddon, you have a good voice. Raise a cheer.” The New Zealand Premier took off his hat, waved it on high, and gave a cry that echoed from Buckingham Palace to St. Paul’s.
Those who came into close touch with him tell stories of his extraordinary energy. In the House, until ill-health made inroads upon his constitution, he seemed to do without sleep. He worked day and night in trains and steamers, sitting up till the small hours and rising to begin work again the first thing in the morning. His thirst for work was never satisfied. He found the hardest work doing nothing while he was under the doctor’s orders, which he often, in utter desperation, disobeyed.
Among many stories of his determination, one may be selected. It was told in the smoking room of a steamer by a gentleman who had known him in the early days. The scene
