To the Editor of the New Zealander.

New Zealander, Volume 8, Issue 697, 18 December 1852, Page 3

To the Editor of the New Zealander.

Sir,—The enclosed letter to Mr. Dudor came oddly enough into my hands. As the contents of it appear to be more public than private, I hope he will not think me discourteous although he reads it in print before the original can be forwarded to him. Your ohedient servant, D. E. F. Auckland, 17th Dec, 1852.

My Dear Dudor, —l have latety heard of the overhauling you have received because you could not see a ship through Rangitoto ; but my dear Dudor it is not your fault but your misfortune that your vision is so defective. The Governor is to blame who does not place a man at the flagstaff who can see through any thing. It cannot be for lack of acute and far-seeing men,for there are, I am told, numbers rallied under the banners of the Cross and Crescent who could find a midge or a mountain anywhere with the aid of their general telescope. But my dear Dudor, you are not the only flagstaff man who has cause to complain. Possibly you may think that in this icy region no one will have the hardihood to set his nose out of his hut to look after a poor Government man who wishes, like many others, to enjoy his salary with all the ease he can ; but you are mistaken. It is here, as with you, easier to abuse their neighbour than faithfully and efficiently to perform their own duties. There is a great to do here about finding out Sir John Franklin and his shipmates, and I have been lately blown up skyhigh because forsooth I am not able to tell every self-constituted enquirer where the gallant fellows are to he found. What do you think they have done to me! /am ordered up to t/te top of the Pole to keep a better look out. A hundred pounds a-year go a good way in finding blubber, so here I am with a day. sufficiently long for the money, although the air'is raw enough. However, my dear Dudor, I have got news to tell you. I made a few acquaintances up 1 ere — winged messengers —and one of them has agreed to carry this letter to you ; the people below know nothing about it. Well, on looking down along the meridian which passes over your flag-staff, I descried a ship, which turned out to be the Soapbubble, Captain Nevergowrong, of and from Auckland, on a whaling expedition. She is clean ; neither whale nor seal has she taken, although others have been doing very well. The captain insists that his want of success is all owing to the Governor (though one of his hands tells me he never launched a boat), and that nothing con-

nected with New Zealand can prosper till the reign of that satrap is brought to a close. He says he thinks this will clinch him, subtile as he is. Not a whale or a seal after three months weavy watching; how can this be but for the malign influence of Sir G. Grey! The captain is a hard faced fellow, and asserts boldly, so that very likely some will believe him — who continues, he doubts that the Governor is the cause of all the evils which have overtaken that unfortunate country. Let him look into the archives of New Zealand, and he will find it written with an iron pen. Who, two years ago, introduced the rot into the potatoes, on their passage to San Francisco ? Sir G. Grey. Who told the Yankees to glut the Californian market with timber, and make the New Ulster kauri not worth the freight? Sir G. Grey. Who diddled the Corporation out of their 2000 J., and gave it to the New Zealand Company ? Sir G. Grey ! Who killed Grahame's Maukin ? Who but Sir George Grey. And to whom can it be owing that this other whaling experiment has come to nought but to this same satrap, who sits like a brood hen hatching wretchedness and misery, and ruin and devastation upon that devoted land. Even now the poor forlorn deluded inhabitants are flattering themselves that they have found gold in Coromandel, and that they will yet arise like a Phoenix out of her ashes. Let them not be deceived. The same evil agency is at work which will soon undermine Coromandel and bury it ten thousand fathoms beneath the surface of the oc6an. Dear Dudor, although I do not believe all the captain says, yet it may be as well to give a hint to the diggeis ; there are, I am told, some bricks among them that the colony could ill spare. It is for this reason I have written to you. I am, dear Dudor, Your elevated friend, Aurora Borealis. North Pole, December, 1852.