“And the weemen. Aye, I mind the time, but ye’ll hae seen the Circassian weemen aboot Africa. Weel, weel, I’m no saying it’s not the case, but folk allow that yon Circassians are the finest weemen upon earth. Whiles I hae seen some tae, at fairs, ye ken, in the bit boothies, but to my mind there’s naething like the Maories, especially the half-casted yins, clean-limbed, nigh on six feet high the maist o’ them. Ye’ll no ken Geordie Telfer, him that was a sojer, he’s got a bit place o’ his ain out by Milngavie. Geordie’s aye bragging, bostin’ aboot weemen that he’s seen in foreign pairts. He just is of opeenion that in Cashmere or thereaboots there is the finest weemen in the warld. Black, na, na, laird, just a wee toned and awfu’ tall, ye ken. Geordie he says that Alexander the Great was up aboot Cashmere and that his sojers, Spartans I think they ca’ed them, just intromitted wi’ the native weemen, took them, perhaps, for concubines, as the Scriptures say; but ye’ll ken sojers, laird; Solomon, tae, an awfu’ chiel yon Solomon. The Maori men were na blate either, a’ ower sax fut high, some nigh on seven fut, sure as death, I’m tellin’ ye. Bonny wrestlers, tae; man, Donald Dinnie got an unco tirl wi’ ane o’ them aboot Dunedin, leastwise if it wasna Dinnie, it was Donald Grant or Donald McKenzie, or ane of they champions frae Easter Ross. Sweir to sell their land tae they chaps, I mind the Government sent out old Sir George Grey, a wise-like man, Sir George, ane o’ they filantrofists. Weel, he just talkit to them, ca’ed them his children, and said that they shouldna resist legeetimate authority. Man, a wee wiry fella’, he was the licht-weight champion wrestler at Tiki-Tiki, just up and said, ‘Aye, aye, Sir George,’ though he wasna gi’en him Sir George, but just some native name they had for him, ‘we’re a’ your children, but no sic children as to gie our land for naething.’ Sir George turnit the colour of a neep, ane o’ yon swedes, ye ken, and said nae mair.”
“The Government just arranged matters wi’ the chiefs. Bribery, weel a’ weel, I’ll no gae sae far as to impute ony corruption on them, but a Government, a Government, ye ken, is very apt to hae its way.
“Dam’t, ’twas a fine country, a pairfect pairadise. I mind aince going oot with Captin Brigstock, Hell-fire Jock they ca’ed him, after they bushrangers. There was ane Morgan frae Australlia bail’t up a wheen folks, and dam’t, says Captin Brigstock, ye’ll hae to come, Campbell. Shot him, yes, authority must be respected, and the majesty o’ law properly vendeecated, or else things dinna thrive. It was in a wood of gora-gora we came on him about the mouth of day. Morgan, ye ken, was boiling a billy in a sort o’ wee clearin’, his horse tied to a tree close by, when Brigstock and the others came upon him. Brigstock just shouted in the name o’ the law and then let fly. Morgan, he fell across the fire, and when we all came up says he, ‘Hell-fire, ye didna gie me ony chance,’ and the blood spouted from his mouth into the boiling pan.