and
carry your luggage, if you will make me a present of a stocking full of
powder, a bag of small shot, and a powder-horn." He also proposed, as he
himself was going to the Kirikiri, and thence to a village in the
interior, to meet a large assemblage of chiefs, in order to talk over the
late tragical events, that I should journey the first part of my way
with him, in his own canoe.

Accordingly, after having made preparations for my departure, I took
leave of all my friends at the Bay of Islands, both civilised and savage.
I must say I felt considerable regret when I found myself really going to
take final leave of several native families, with whom I had been on
terms of intimacy since my residence here, from whom I had received many
proofs of personal regard, and whom, I felt convinced, I should never
meet or hear of more; none I regretted parting with more than the family
of poor Shulitea; the mere sight of me seemed to rekindle all their grief
for the loss of their kinsman, and to remind them more forcibly than ever
of his tragical fate. His mother, old Turero, in point of grief, had
rivalled Niobe; she had never ceased weeping and lamenting from the time
she heard of her son's death, and had twice attempted to strangle
herself. But even in the midst of her passionate sorrow, I could scarcely
refrain from laughing, while observing her care and anxiety to get all
she could from me. After deploring the sad fate of her dear son, "You
know," she continued, "you promised him that you would send him a
handsome new musket from Sydney; and now, poor fellow, he is dead; and
cannot shoot with it; but then you must remember that his brother Kiney
Kiney is still alive, and he can shoot with it; and poor George would
wish that his brother should have his new musket." This speech I felt
quite irresistible; therefore, in order to comfort the old queen, I
promised that I would send the musket for her second son; which
declaration seemed to afford her great consolation, and considerably
abated the violence of her grief.

Just at the dawn of morning we started from the bay in Rivers' canoe,
accompanied by his wife, one child, and the two stout slaves he had
mentioned to me. My luggage, which consisted of one leathern portmanteau
and my bed, was placed in the centre. I had also provided myself with a
small basket of cooked meat, with bread, and a small bottle of brandy,
which was given me by the captain of one of the whalers. The da