introduced by the missionaries: it consists only of fourteen letters, and although b and d are frequently used in speaking, their sounds are represented by p and r in writing. The indiscriminate use of these letters is the consequence, producing great confusion and embarrassment to learners of the language. Thus, some tribes will say Rimu, and others Dimu; Kerrykerry and Kiddikiddi, &c.; and others will use the sound expressed by r in their alphabet in such a way that it would puzzle any European to understand what was said. I certainly think it would be much better if the alphabet had been furnished with all the letters that the natives could have sounded; and although perhaps at first they might have been a little confused in using them with the proper exactness, a very little practice would have overcome that difficulty, and the language would have gained by it in clearness and intelligibility. Besides, as Mr. Busby (the resident at the bay) says, it would have been a mark whereby to distinguish the educated from the uneducated—the gentlemen from the vulgar. After the letter n, a has a nasal sound somewhat resembling that in "Nantes." In Mowrie (New Zealand language) it is not difficult to express the sound by desiring the experimenter to say "na" (nah) without moving his tongue, and with his mouth a little open at the commencement of the sound, at the same time admitting a little air through his nose. I think this sound would be much better represented by g n than n g, as is now done; but still either would be erroneous, as the sound is not in the consonant, but in the vowel. The name of one of the Bay of Islands tribes, "Ngapui," is an example of this sort of Russian combination: the natives have neither f, g, i, nor l, but change them for other letters; s they leave out entirely. It is impossible to make them pronounce any words having these sounds in them: for instance, knife is "nihee," the two syllables and the n h being distinct. My name, John, is "Honi" (pronounced
