ch I had before read of:
narratives which from my very childhood had always possessed particular
charms for me; and at this time I was not only looking on the very spot
the hero of my imagination, Cook, had trod, but was hearing the tale from
one who had actually seen him; and was listening to every particular
concerning the transactions of Marion and his men, as though they had
just taken place.

Even in the dreadful destruction of the Boyd, George laid the blame
entirely on the English, and spoke with great bitterness of the
ill-treatment of Philip, the native chief, who came as passenger in the
ship. He described and mimicked his cleaning shoes and knives; his being
flogged when he refused to do this degrading work; and, finally, his
speech to his countrymen when he came on shore, soliciting their
assistance in capturing the vessel, and revenging his ill-treatment. Over
and over again our friend George, having worked up his passion by a full
recollection of the subject, went through the whole tragedy. The scene
thus portrayed was interesting although horrible. No actor, trained in
the strictest rules of his art, could compete with George's vehemence of
action. The flexibility of his features enabled him to vary the
expression of each passion; and he represented hatred, anger, horror, and
the imploring of mercy so ably that, in short, one would have imagined he
had spent his whole life in practising the art of imitation.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE MAORI VIEW OF CHRISTIANITY.

I frequently conversed with George upon the subject of religion, and from
what he told me I found that the natives had not formed the slightest
idea of there being a state of future punishment. They refuse to believe
that the good Spirit intends to make them miserable after their decease.
They imagine all the actions of this life are punished here, and that
every one when dead, good or bad, bondsman or free, is assembled on an
island situated near the North Cape, where both the necessaries and
comforts of life will be found in the greatest abundance, and all will
enjoy a state of uninterrupted happiness. A people of their simple
habits, and possessing so little property, have but few temptations to
excesses of any kind, excepting the cruelties practised by them in war,
in which they fancy themselves perfectly justified, and the tyranny
exercised by them over their slaves, whom they look upon as mere
machines. There is, in fact, but little c