I had once a tame pig, which, before heavy rain, would always cut extraordinary capers and squeak like mad. Every pakeha said he was "weather-wise;" but all the Maori said it was a "_poaka whai mana_," a pig possessed of _mana_; _it had more than natural powers_ and could foretell rain. If ever this talk about the good old times be printed and published, and every one buy it, and read it, and quote it, and believe every word in it, as they ought, seeing that every word is true, then it will be a _puka puka whai mana_, a book of _mana_; and I shall have a high opinion of the good sense and good taste of the New Zealand public. When the law of England is the law of New Zealand, and the Queen's writ will run, then both the Queen and the law will have great _mana_; but I don't think either will ever happen, and so neither will have any _mana_ of consequence. If the reader has not some faint notion of _mana_ by this time, I can't help it; I can't do any better for him. I must confess I have not pleased myself. Any European language can be translated easily enough into any other; but to translate Maori into English is much harder to do than is supposed by those who do it every day with ease, but who do not know their own language or any other but Maori perfectly. I am always blowing up "Young New Zealand," and calling them "reading, riting, rethmatiking" vagabonds, who will never equal their fathers; but I mean it all for their own good--(poor things!)--like a father scolding his children. But one _does_ get vexed sometimes. Their grandfathers, if they had no backs, had at least good legs, but the grandsons can't walk a day's journey to save their lives; _they_ must _ride_. The other day I saw a young chap on a good horse; he had a black hat and polished Wellingtons; his hat was cocked knowingly to one side; he was jogging along, with one hand jingling the money in his pocket; and may I never see another war dance, if the hardened villain was not whistling "Pop goes the weasel!" What will all this end in?