le heart of the
child. He was a man entirely devoted to his duty, counting nothing of
trouble or reward. We worked hand in hand. During an illness in New
Zealand, I drew out a constitution, such as I believed would best suit
the Church of England there. Broadly, it came into operation, and in a
speech, when he was leaving New Zealand, Selwyn told of its origin.'

You seek life pictures, rather than any chronology of dates, and
therefore to a second incident of Sir George and Selwyn on tramp. They
were in the Taupo range of mountains, and their supply of food had run
very short. By the borders of Lake Taupo they sighted the house of a
Maori chief who, being absent, had shut it up. Believing he might find
inside a stay to their wants, Sir George forced the door, and after that
a cupboard. In it were rice and sugar and other supplies, which he
exhibited to Selwyn with the triumphant shout, 'Here, I'll make you a
present of all this!'

'I'm afraid,' the Bishop gently remonstrated, 'that there will be trouble
about our doings. You see we have really broken into somebody's house.'

'Oh, no,' Sir George reassured him, 'I know the chief who owns the place,
and he would give us part of himself.' On the following day they met the
chief, as he was returning home at the head of a string of his men. Sir
George informed him of the straits to which he and the Bishop had been
put, and of what they had done, and received this approval, 'Well, that
was like true friends, and I'm so glad you did it!'

'You can realise,' Sir George drew the inference, 'how easy it was for me
to get on with so chivalrous a race as the Maoris!' He and they had
arrived at a mutual comprehension of each other. They recognised his
parts, the manner in which he could make himself felt where least
expected, the difficulty of beating him in expedients, his desire to
advance their interests and happiness, his tender care for them as a
father, after he had ridden as the Caesar. Towards the full
understanding, his bout with Rauparaha and Rangihaeta was, perhaps, an
assistance.

'The name Rauparaha,' he narrated, 'means in Maori a cabbage leaf; a wild
cabbage leaf. The tradition was that Rauparaha's father was killed and
eaten by some rival chief. While eating him, the other chief mumbled with
inward satisfaction, "This man eats like a young cabbage." The son, being
told, vowed revenge, and took the name Rauparaha to emphasise the fact.
It was insulting, he felt