Noting his career as a whole, you seem to perceive the scales of official praise and disgrace rising and falling, like a see-saw.  Now, he was being set to the straightening-out of some twist in Oceana, to the healing of a sore which threatened one of her limbs.  Then, when Oceana, in that quarter, was waxing strong on his regimen, Downing Street, not having prescribed it all, would trounce him.  The calls to South Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa were in the agreeable key.  The other note piped in the good-byes to South Africa and New Zealand, and in the registered blue-book phrase ‘a dangerous man.’  It was the ancient, merry way of regarding the Colonies; with, in conflict, a masterful Pro-Consul who, being on the spot, would there administer.  Whether the see-saw had him up, or dropped him down, Sir George kept the good heart, as school-children do.

The tribute of Lord John Russell was that, in South Australia, he had given a young Governor as difficult a problem in administration as could arise.  He pronounced the problem to have been solved with a degree of energy and success, hardly to be expected from any man.  In New Zealand, Lord Stanley gave Sir George difficulties more arduous, duties even more responsible.  The ability they demanded, the sacrifices they involved, were their best recommendation to one of Sir George’s character.  ’Before I mounted my horse again, after reading the despatches,’ he recalled his decision, ’I made up my mind to go to New Zealand.  Indeed, I had not two opinions on the matter from the moment I became acquainted with the wish of the Colonial Secretary.  It was a clear duty lying before me, and that is ever the light to steer by.’

He sailed for New Zealand in the “Elphinstone,” and retained her on war service there, another of his new departures.  ‘As far as I know,’ he said, ’no East India Company’s ship had previously been the consort, in active operations, of men-of-war, of the Royal Navy.  There was a row afterwards, as to paying for the “Elphinstone,” and I suppose I had no right to keep her.  However, I realised that everything hung on how effective a blow I could at once strike in New Zealand.’  Several men-of-war were at his orders, and later they were strengthened by the first steamer ever seen in these parts.  It had come to New Zealand from the China station, and was a show alike to colonists and to Maoris.

A trifling incident of the naval activity, during the Maori wars, dwelt in Sir George’s memory by reason of its droll comedy.  An officer, thoroughly tired out, went to his bunk, leaving directions that he should be called at a particular hour.  It happened that the awakening of him, fell to a blithesome midshipman having the sombre surname D’Eth.  The sleeper turned himself lazily, half asleep, wishful only to be left to sleep on, and asked, ‘Who’s there?’

The midshipman held up the blinking, old-fashioned lantern which was in his hand, and answered ‘D’Eth.’  The weirdly lit cabin solemnly echoed the word, making its sound uncanny—­’D’Eth!’