es of native New Zealand. There were King
Canutes, tattooed warriors of the flying day, who would have ordered it
back. You see how easily troubles grew, although they might have been the
last desire of anybody.

Two Maori chieftains, Heke and Kawiti, were the centre of disturbance,
and Sir George Grey was to have faithful dealing with them. Heke he
called the fighting chief, Kawiti the advising chief; one the complement
of the other.

'When I met Heke after the war,' he mentioned, 'it was said that he was
somewhat nervous. I thought I was the person who should have been
nervous, because I was in his country almost alone. I liked him, and
really all the old Maori chiefs were fine fellows--shrewd, dignified,
with a high sense of honour. Heke made me his heir when he died, to the
neglect of his wife, but of course I gave her everything.'

This Heke was the son-in-law of Hongi, a Napoleonic figure in Maori
annals. Hongi was before Sir George's time, but he heard all about him
from contemporaries.

New Zealand, when Hongi had the guidin' o't, was still a land remote from
the concern of the Old World. Missionaries had begun to spread light in
the country; runaway convicts from Australia arrived stealthily, seeking
refuge. For the rest, Hongi and the Maoris were the war lords, and the
fiery torch was generally abroad. Hongi visited England, was lionised as
a New Zealand trophy, and presented, with every ceremony, to the Prince
Regent, afterwards George IV. He got many presents, and, before reaching
New Zealand again, he exchanged them to a purpose which the givers could
hardly have foreseen. Hongi had been quick to discern the road to
conquest, which musket, gun-powder, and bullet would give him in New
Zealand against the native weapons. He chortled to himself as did Lamech:
'I have slain a man to my wounding, and a young man to my hurt.'

'Landing with his battery of muskets,' Sir George had the tale, 'Hongi
lost no time in carrying slaughter through Maoriland. His lurid fame
spread far and wide; his bill of slaughter grew bigger and bigger. Yet,
he met his death by a stray shot. Te-Whero-Whero, another Maori chief,
complained to me, while we were discussing Hongi, that it was quite
unfair he, should have been cut down in that fashion. When a veteran
warrior could be destroyed, almost by accident, to the gun of a nobody,
then all honest fighting was at an end. "You should," I was earnestly
counselled by Te-Whero-Whero,