the Taranaki Maoris and others of their race had already sold 30,000 acres near New Plymouth for tenpence an acre, a million of acres at Napier for a penny three-farthings an acre, the whole of the territory round Auckland for about fourpence an acre, and the whole South Island below the Kaikouras for a mite an acre.  They had also—­the bishop might have added—­leased large tracts ultimately turned into freeholds.  Yet the impatience of the Taranaki settlers, though mischievous, was natural.  The Maoris made no use of a hundredth part of their lands.  Moreover, members of the Taranaki tribes who were anxious to sell plots to the Whites were threatened, attacked, and even assassinated by their fellow-tribesmen.

Never bullied, and not much interfered with by the Government, the Maori tribes as a whole were prospering.  They farmed, and drove a brisk trade with the settlements, especially Auckland, where, in 1858, no less than fifty-three coasting vessels were registered as belonging to Native owners.  Still, the growing numbers of the colonists alarmed them.  They saw their race becoming the weaker partner.  Originating in Taranaki, a league was formed by a number of the tribes against further selling of land.  To weld this league together, certain powerful Waikato chiefs determined to have a king.  Of them the most celebrated was the son of Hongi’s old antagonist, Te Waharoa.  This leader, Wiremu Tamihana, usually known as William Thompson, was an educated Christian and a brown-skinned gentleman, far in advance of his race in breadth of view, logical understanding, and persistence.  He honestly wanted to be at peace with us, but regarding contact with our race as deadly to his own, desired to organize the Maori as a community dwelling apart from the Pakeha on ample and carefully secured territories.  Had the Maori race numbered 500,000 instead of 50,000, and been capable of uniting under him for any purpose whatever, he might conceivably have established a counterpart to Basutoland.  But the scanty dwindling tribes could not be welded together.  New Zealand was, as she is, the land of jealousies, local and personal.  It would seem as though every change of wind brought fresh rivalry and division.  The Waikato chiefs themselves were at odds.  After years of argument and speech-making they came to the point of choosing their king.  But they compromised on the old chief, Te Whero Whero.  The once famous warrior was now blind, broken, and enfeebled.  When, in 1860, he died, they made the still greater mistake of choosing as successor his son Matutaera (Methuselah), better known as Tawhiao, a dull, heavy, sullen-looking fool, who afterwards became a sot.  They disclaimed hostility to the Queen, but would sell no land, and would allow no Whites to settle among them except a few mechanics whose skill they wished to use.  They even expelled from their villages white men who had married Maori wives, and who now had to leave their families behind.  They would not allow the Queen’s