his power, and was
a desolate man. It was a characteristic of the Maoris, that when a chief
had a tumble he lost his influence. To that detail Sir George added
another, namely that Rauparaha was a very good speaker. Indeed, many of
the Maoris had the true gift of eloquence. Rauparaha left some Maori
manuscripts, about himself, to the Governor who had so unceremoniously
made him captive. It was a tribute to that Governor's genius for
attaching the regard of men, converting even enemies into friends.

Another instance, and another incident, lie in the conversion of
Rangihaeta to road-making. He had rushed to the rescue of Rauparaha, on
hearing of his capture. It was the chivalrous daring of one chief,
towards the brother in distress, but unavailing. Not a hair of anybody's
head had been hurt, yet Rauparaha was already beyond his friend's reach.
Rangihaeta sulked into his own fastnesses--a rumble of discontent and
vengeance. Sir George did not wish him to remain in a state holding so
little happiness. Moreover, the all-important high roads must invade even
Rangihaeta's territory. Diplomatic overtures were not wasted; they
blossomed quietly, and then bloomed on an inspiration.

'When the old fellow had begun to get frail and ill,' said Sir George, 'I
sent him a pretty pony and trap. The sea shore, at his part of New
Zealand, offered a splendid stretch of firm sand, one of the finest
drives in the world. Delighted with his carriage, he would use it; only a
breadth of rough land intervened between his pa and the beach. He could
not drive across it, so what does he do but turn out his men to make a
roadway.

'There was merriment in Maoriland at the idea that Rangihaeta, hitherto
sternly opposed to our roads, should himself be constructing one. That
was as I had hoped, and he made no more difficulties for us. How could
he? There he was, almost every afternoon, driving on the sands in all the
pride of peacock feathers. Not merely that, but he aired his sister
Topera, a woman of first-rate abilities, and of wide influence among the
Maoris.'

Meanwhile, an outbreak at Wanganui furnished Sir George with material for
his administrative wits. He was strolling up and down, deep in
meditation, on a sort of terrace at his residence in Auckland. Turning,
he noticed a Maori running towards him, and the next moment the Maori was
rubbing his nose against the Governor's, the native fashion of salute.

Sir George, himself, had raced one