She wept much, and the Bishop said, "Bring them both to me; who knows whether they may live to wish for it again ?" The native Christians, poor people employed on the beach, remnants of the old Portuguese Missions, had built a church at their own expense, and, being unable to obtain regular ministrations from their own clergy, begged the Bishop to consecrate their building, and give them a clergyman, and this he hoped to do on his return.
Meantime, he went in his robes to present Lady Munro with a vote of thanks from the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, for the good works in the schools of her husband's government.

"I have seldom witnessed a more interesting or affecting picture," writes Archdeacon Robinson: "the beauty and gracefulness of Lady Munro, the grave and commanding figure of the Governor, the youthful appearance and simple dignity of the dear Bishop, the beloved of all beholders, presented a scene such as few can ever hope to witness." "My lord," said Sir Thomas, with the tears rolling down his cheeks, "it will be vain for me after this to preach humility to Lady Munro; she will be proud of this day to the latest hour she lives." "God bless you, Sir Thomas!" was all the Bishop could utter.
"And God bless _you_, my lord!" was the fervent answer.
Before eighteen months had passed the two good men who exchanged this blessing, had met in Paradise! The Bishop went on from Madras, travelling by dak, and encamping during the heat of the day.

He soon came into the field of labour of the Danish Missions, and was disappointed to find how poor and forlorn the Christian converts about Cuddalore were, and the great want of employment for them.
Things were better in the Tanjore territory, where the Bishop was much interested by a visit from the native pastor of one of the villages, a fine, venerable old man.

When about to take leave, he lingered, and the Bishop was told that the Tamul Christians never quitted a minister without receiving his blessing.

He was greatly touched.