We left Kaupukunui after breakfast, and crossed the river up to the waist in water. My little dog, Dash, was carried into the billowing waves, and the natives' teeth were chattering with cold, as we crossed the several streams that were on the way. Some that I used to cross dry-footed, were now difficult to wade over, from the rapidity of the water. I arrived at Otumatua Pah about 2 p.m. and found many of the houses there had fallen to the ground, and the wind was then blowing a hurricane. So much so, that I had to sit on the ground, or run the risk of being blown over the precipice; and was greatly afraid for Basil Taylor and my natives, lest an accident should befal them, and sent 6 or 8 natives from Otumatua to meet them. Some of the natives of that Pah have left it, and gone inland to cultivate, and build houses there. This, I am glad to observe, as I recommended such a movement 6 months ago. The natives of this place wanted me to stop; but I was anxious to shorten my journey, and get to a quiet, clean settlement, to pass the Sunday; and, with a great push, passed over 10 deep rivers, most of them dangerous. I got to Umuroa about 8 in the evening. Had a good fire, changed clothes, got supper, and conversed with a numerous circle of natives that were squatted, with welcome smiles on their faces; and who expressed a wish that they had known we were coming, in their way of expressing "He Korero tuku mai hoki" - or "had a message come, we would have been prepared for our guest.