1938 - Stack, J. W. and E. Further Maoriland Adventures of J. W. and E. Stack - Book II. Mrs. Stack's Journals of the Fifties and Sixties - PART III. A VISIT TO THE WAIKATO IN 1858, p 126-182

       
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  1938 - Stack, J. W. and E. Further Maoriland Adventures of J. W. and E. Stack - Book II. Mrs. Stack's Journals of the Fifties and Sixties - PART III. A VISIT TO THE WAIKATO IN 1858, p 126-182
 
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PART III. A VISIT TO THE WAIKATO IN 1858.

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PART III

A VISIT TO THE WAIKATO IN 1858

The favourable impression produced on my mind by witnessing the Christian conduct of the Maoris living at Waiheke, far removed from the supervision of their European teachers, made me desirous to see more of the missionaries and of what they were doing amongst the purely native population of the interior. It was with joy that I hailed an invitation, brought to me one day by Mr. Swainson, from Captain and Mrs. Montressor Smith, of Panmure, to go with them to the Waikato, which was a part of the country I longed to see.

I had only lately made the acquaintance of the Montressor Smiths, whom I met at St. John's College during my stay there with Bishop and Mrs. Selwyn. I liked them both at first sight, and felt very glad of the opportunity, which journeying together would give me, of knowing them better. As I wanted to find out what I required to take with me for the Waikato trip, I got Dr. Buchanan to drive me out to Panmure, where I had a long conversation with my friends upon the subject.

On hearing from me that I could not get a suitable horse for the journey between Auckland and the river they most kindly promised to lend me one of their own.

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This removed the only obstacle which stood in the way of my going with them. I went back in high glee to prepare the things I had been told to get ready.

On our way we called at St. John's College, where we found Mr. Patteson and the black boys playing a game very merrily together. I do not wonder that the Melanesians appeared so fond of him, for he is an extremely amiable man, with a very benevolent expression of face. I understood that he was a distinguished scholar and that he surrendered prospects of high preferment in England in order to devote his life to the work of Christianising the ignorant and savage inhabitants of the islands of Melanesia. There was some talk of his being made Bishop over them in time to come, when there are a sufficient number of Christian converts to justify his consecration.

On the third day after my visit to Panmure Mr. Swainson and Mr. Shepherd, 1 who were really the chief promoters and organisers of the expedition I was about to take part in, called for me on horseback about half past eleven on 16th March, and as it was so near lunch time they were persuaded by Humphrey and Emma to stay and lunch with us. Immediately afterwards the horses were brought round, and some time was occupied in fixing my various belongings on my borrowed steed's saddle. When everything was properly fastened on we all three mounted and rode off, presenting as we did so a somewhat striking spectacle to all beholders.

My Scotch plaid shawl supplied the place of a habit

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while I rode through the town, and was to be used as a wrap when I got into the bush. What seemed to me the most novel part of my riding outfit was a large, well-filled Maori basket, tied to the right side of my saddle, and a knitted bag to the pommel, with a bright tin pannikin dangling beside it.

Mr. Shepherd wore a brown suit the exact colour of his hair and beard. A brown holland bag containing shot, etc., was slung across his shoulders by a red cotton handkerchief. Round his neck he wore a bright blue neckcloth with loose flowing ends. A broad-brimmed hat with a ventilator at the top, large enough to put a finger through, and wrapped round with a canary coloured mosquito curtain, completed his attire. In his hand he carried an umbrella and a fowling-piece. His horse, Peter, was calculated to attract quite as much attention as its strange looking rider, of whose importance he seemed fully aware, judging by the slow, dignified pace he assumed the moment he came near any people on the road.

Mr. Swainson wore the same shepherd's plaid suit as at Waiheke, and a black wide-awake hat with a white mosquito curtain wrapped around it. He was quite presentable, as became the beau of our party.

On our way out of town we met several persons who looked hard at us, and not a little amused at our fantastic appearance, to which special attention was being drawn by the noise my jingling pannikin made. We had not gone far along the road when, to Mr. Swainson's surprise, we overtook the Maoris whom he had dispatched in advance with the tents and heavy baggage the day

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before. They were leisurely resting by the roadside. They accounted for their slow progress by saying that the two pack-horses which were provided to carry the baggage had strayed away during the night and could not be found. They had been obliged to carry everything on their backs and, the loads being heavy, they could not travel fast. Mr. Swainson chaffed them a good deal about letting the horses go and having to carry their loads; and he urged them to hurry forward and reach Papakura by nightfall without fail. With many a laugh and joke the good-tempered fellows shouldered their burdens and trotted off.

Throughout the entire journey I noticed that Maori servants were always treated as friends by their employers, and never scolded or roughly ordered about. They always received their orders with smiling faces, and seemed to look upon everything they were required to do as great fun. Their habitual good humour was contagious, and it was impossible to feel otherwise than good tempered in their company. And I began to understand why the English settlers spoke so kindly about the Maoris and why I was getting to like them so much myself.

On reaching the military pensioners' settlement at Otahuhu we were met by Captain and Mrs. Montressor Smith, who had ridden across from their home at Panmure. The Captain, mounted on his good mare, Maggie, was leading a well-loaded pack-horse, whilst Mrs. Smith rode her dear old pony. There was nothing about the dress of either of our friends to indicate that they were leaving town for the bush. Both might have appeared

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in Rotten Row without exciting any unfavourable comments. Their horses recognized and greeted with a friendly whinny the one I rode and Arnica showed her appreciation of it by rubbing noses with them in accordance with the Maori custom of the country.

Our cavalcade was now complete, and we rode out to Otahuhu, followed by our Maoris, of whom I ought not to omit some description. The only Waiheke friend amongst them was our waiter, George, who appeared this time in the brightest red flannel jacket, down the back of which there was a broken stripe resembling that on a donkey's back, caused, I imagine, by some staining leakage from the contents of his backload.

Terry and Ratu were very ordinary personages, except that they were both extremely ugly. Terry, however, proved the truth of the saying that "handsome is as handsome does," for he proved in the end the best of the lot. Both men wore striking looking tartan jackets.

Potau, though mentioned last, was not the least deserving of notice. He was one of the handsomest men I have ever seen. His features were perfect, especially his finely chiselled nose and chin and thin lips. His eyes were large and dark and luminous, and his complexion olive--altogether very unlike the ordinary type of Maori one met. A painter might have taken him as his model for the portrait of a Gipsy king. "All is not gold that glitters," however, and Potau proved the least satisfactory of our natives. He was very lazy, and made his companions do his work for him. But instead of complaining, they only laughed at his laziness. They were always joking with one another, but none of them proved

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as well fitted for the office of jester as did our Waiheke man, Onion, whose fun we greatly missed.

We travelled this first day through nicely cultivated lands, with settlers' farms and homesteads all around us. On our left the wooded hills were near enough to enable us to mark the pleasing contrast of colour between the yellow stubble fields and the dark foliage of the trees which bordered them. On our right were spread out, as far as the eye could see, the level lands adjoining the Manukau Harbour, with here and there an extinct volcanic cone, like those in the neighbourhood of Auckland, rearing up its head. Altogether the landscape was very pleasing and kept improving as we moved forward.

Owing to the delay caused by the Maoris at the outset of the day's march we could not spare time for a meal on the road, and appeased our hunger with some tasty sandwiches which Mrs Montressor Smith, with wise forethought, had brought with her, and some delicious peaches which Mr. Swainson produced from somewhere about his saddle-bags.

About six o'clock in the evening we reached Papakura, where we were to spend the night. I was astonished to find there, so far away in the country, such a pretty looking roadside inn. But the slatternly appearance of Kitty and Margaret, who met us in the doorway, did not produce such a favourable impression of the inside as we had formed of the outside of the building, and our subsequent experiences confirmed our worst foreboding regarding it.

I felt very stiff after our twenty-mile ride, which was not surprising seeing I had not mounted a horse since

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I was twelve years of age, when my dear father's death led to our leaving Llynon and to my being parted for ever from my favourite pony, Beauty. I was not only tired but very hungry, and joined in the loud burst of applause with which my fellow-travellers greeted the appearance on the table of a fine, well-roasted turkey which filled the room with a very savoury smell. Imagine our disappointment when, one after another, expectant sitters at the table remarked that the flesh was too tough to get human teeth through, and at once engaged in a discussion respecting the probable age of the venerable bird, which all agreed no animal but a lion could possibly tackle. The ham, too, proved equally disappointing; it smelled so rank and gamey that it had to be removed, being quite unfit for consumption. We then ordered tea, but after it was brought we had a long time to wait for milk, which had to be fetched from the cowshed. While waiting, Mrs. Smith and I retired to our rooms and got our dresses out of our tightly packed "kits." The gentlemen were much surprised when we reappeared arrayed in them. They could not understand how such extensive garments could have been packed away in the small space allotted to them, and they praised our skill as packers. Even when we rejoined the gentlemen, the milk had not come, and as our patience was quite exhausted and the tea nearly cold, we had recourse to Mr. Swainson's recipe, of beaten up yolk of eggs, as a substitute.

On going out to explore the surroundings of the inn we came across a tidy little shop attached to it, containing a very curious assortment of goods, and we had a

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long chat with a very pleasant body whom we found behind the counter.

We all rejoiced when bedtime arrived. We had seen the beds prepared for us, which looked clean and comfortable, and, however disappointing our meal had proved, we thought we were sure of a refreshing night's rest. But alas! how vain our pleasing anticipations proved to be, and what a lesson that night taught me, never to count with too much certainty beforehand upon enjoying anything. We went to bed, but not to sleep. In the first place, my bedroom door would not shut, and as it opened upon a passage where stood a row of beer barrels which seemed to possess an irresistible attraction to a number of half-drunken men, who were continually tumbling over them and indulging in loud and not always proper remarks, I barricaded my door with chairs as best I could, fearing that at any moment the men might come into my room.

At last I ventured to undress, and on getting into bed experienced for a few brief moments the delicious sensation of stretching my weary limbs between clean, cool sheets. I should soon have fallen asleep; but sleep that night was going to be denied to all the members of our party, as I afterwards found out when we came to compare notes in the morning. I was just going off when I became conscious of a tickly feeling all over my body, and discovered that a lively party of little fleas were jumping all over me. In vain was every effort I made to get rid of my tormentors. While engaged hunting for them I heard exclamations uttered by Mrs. Smith in the adjoining room, which revealed to me that she

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and her husband were being disturbed in the same way that I was. And I grieved to know by her constant coughing that her cold was being made worse by having to get in and out of bed so often in the fruitless pursuit of the disturbers of her rest.

But besides our unpleasant little bedfellows there were other disturbers of our repose in the shape of rats and mice, which seemed to be running races all over the floor and overhead, too. I heard Mrs. Smith exclaim in a voice of horror, "Oh! it has run up my curtain."

Not wishing to add to her discomfort by letting her know what I was suffering, I kept as quiet as possible and amused myself conjuring up visions of what our next day's journey was going to reveal. Under the soothing influence of these thoughts I was just falling asleep when a drunken man, hard up for some musical accompaniment to his droning song, began beating a tin can close under my window, and so loud and long continued was this noise that daylight dawned before it ceased, and sleep closed my eyes.

SECOND DAY

We did not all meet till eight o'clock next morning, when each had a sorrowful tale to tell of disappointed hopes and banished sleep.

At breakfast, portions of the turkey we had found so tough the night before were served in the more eatable form of stew; with that, and fried potatoes, and bread and butter, we managed to begin the day with a good meal.

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Breakfast over, the horses were brought round, and we each proceeded to superintend the fastening on to the saddle of our several belongings. It was impressed upon us that if we wanted to reach the Waikato before dark we must lose no time in getting away from the inn. Most unfortunately, just as we were starting, an unexpected disaster occurred which delayed us for upwards of an hour and upset our plans.

Mr. Swainson, Mr. Shepherd and I had already mounted and proceeded for a few yards, when we heard a noise behind us which caused us to look round, when we saw Captain Smith tearing off at full gallop after the pack-horse, which had broken away from him. His poor wife was standing in the middle of the road, alongside her pony, looking very pale and frightened. And no wonder, for the ground for yards around her was strewn with the contents of her basket of groceries-- pepper, salt, sugar, biscuits, spices, ham, cheese, tins of potted meat, broken jars of butter, broken cups and saucers, and plates--everything, indeed, that she had provided for the wants of the table on the journey. A little farther along the road were scattered our knives and forks, and the fragments of our only wash hand basin, the loss of which made our daily ablutions during the whole of our expedition a matter of difficulty and uncertainty. What changed the tragic picture into a comic one was the appearance on the scene of a dignified old Maori who walked gravely up to the spot where the broken packet of sugar was lying and seating himself in the roadway beside it, commenced scooping up the sugar with his hand and eating it.

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We were all greatly relieved when Captain Smith returned with the runaway pack-horse, and as soon as his good wife was satisfied that he was unhurt, she began to tell us how it all happened and what a narrow escape her husband had. She told us that while the load was being secured, the pack-horse, either objecting to the weight of it, or frightened by the noise made by some of its contents, began plunging about, and she was alarmed to see the rearing animal's forelegs striking at her husband's shoulder and at the contents of its load falling down upon the ground, and then the horse broke away and galloped off. When Captain Smith got back with the runaway it was thought best to dispense with its services and to leave it in the innkeeper's charge until we returned.

What was thought worth gathering up from the wrecked pack-load was bundled into a Maori basket and given to a settler who was driving a cart in the same direction that we were going, and who kindly offered to carry it till we caught up to our Maoris, at the stream, where they had been told to wait for us.

Riding along in the hot sunshine soon made us very thirsty, and Mr. Shepherd suggested that he should go in search of a farmer friend of his, who would provide us with butter-milk to slake our thirst. He soon discovered his whereabouts, and led us to the farm-house. It was, fortunately, churning day, and the jolly-looking wife of the farmer gave us a liberal supply of her fresh butter-milk, which we found deliciously cool and refreshing. It took six tumblers of it to quench our guide's thirst.

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Having thanked the good farmer and his wife for their opportune kindness, we resumed our journey and rode through the first piece of forest we had encountered since leaving Auckland. The rapidity with which we got through it on the hard, well metalled road made us realise how easy travelling will become twenty years hence, when similar roads traverse the forests and swamps in every direction.

We soon overtook our Maoris at the place appointed for a midday halt, and while they watered and fed the horses, and under Mr. Swainson's direction prepared our dinner, Mrs. Smith and I took off our cumbersome riding things and appeared before the company in our red petticoats, in which we were able to move about in the woods with greater ease.

We were so charmed with the beauty of the little dell we were in that we much regretted not being able to make a stereoscopic view of it. At our feet rippled over the stones a brawling brook, as clear as crystal. Alongside its banks grew a profusion of ferns and all sorts of small shrubs, and overhanging these a variety of forest trees. On a small mound, within a few feet of the brook crossing, our Maoris were seated beside a blazing fire, and the bright hue of their garments gave the touch of colour wanted to complete the picture of the spot we named "Kuia Grove." Our dinner consisted of cold fowl, biscuits, and refreshing hot tea, which we drank out of tin pannikins.

Refreshed by our meal and short rest, we remounted our horses and commenced a march of ten miles through a dense forest. Bad as the road proved to be, it would

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have been much worse but for the enterprising Tuakau settler who a year or two before had, at his own expense, cut a track through the trees wide enough to let a dray pass. It was very miry and slippery in some places, and steep and rough in others. The bridges over creeks and hollows, made by placing a number of saplings across them side by side, were too rotten to be trusted. We had to dismount whenever we came to them, and get the horses over as best we could. Becoming rather tired of this constant getting off and on my horse's back, I ventured to follow the example of the gentlemen, and rode after them, down steep and slippery slopes, where my steed seemed to be sliding down on his tail. I felt very proud of accomplishing a feat which Mrs. Smith would not venture to attempt.

We were so much occupied trying to keep our seats on our stumbling horses, and to avoid the supplejacks and other woodbines hanging across the road--as if placed purposely to snare and unseat the unwary rider---that we could not examine, as we should have liked to do, the wealth of forest verdure through which we were passing. I especially regretted this because, whenever I looked along the ground, I saw varieties of beautiful ferns. At every step the luxuriant vegetation delighted us. The graceful tree ferns and nikau palms were beautifully grouped everywhere about. And on all sides rose the lofty pines, rata, and totara trees, towering away over our heads and forming a majestic avenue under the shadow of which we rode. Every old stump or decaying log we passed was literally clothed with a

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garment of elegant hymenophyllum and delicate trichomanes.

As we got nearer the border of the forest, the light green-leaved puriri, with its crimson berries, and the beautiful dark green karaka with its yellow berries--of which the Maoris are so fond--took the place of the larger trees. When we finally emerged from the bush we entered a thicket of light flowering manuka, under which the ground was covered with a matting of golden-green lycopodium, which it seemed almost a crime to tread carelessly under foot, as we were doing.

The birds which we saw in the forest were very tame, but they did not sing much; only an occasional note from a tui reminded us of their presence. Probably their silence was due to its being afternoon when we passed through. Songsters in the New Zealand forests, I noticed, were more in evidence in the early morning and in the evening, than in the middle of the day.

Owing to the delay caused by the misbehaviour of the pack-horse in the morning, we did not succeed in reaching the river bank, as was intended, but had to stop for the night at Mr. Walters's farm, which we reached about six o'clock. The proprietor kindly offered to take us all in, but we ladies preferred to sleep in a tent. As our natives had not arrived with the baggage, Mr. Walters kindly sent a man with a pack-horse to meet them. He found them still struggling through the muddy forest road, weighed down by their heavy backloads, which they were glad to be relieved of. On their arrival, two hours after us, the tent was pitched, and a thick layer of fresh fern spread over the floor of it,

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and a large fire made close by, which made it look very comfortable.

We had tea in Mr. Walters's house, and afterwards sat round the fire chatting merrily with the inmates. One man who was there caused us much amusement by insisting that Mr. Shepherd was the same person who, two years ago, went about Auckland showing a stuffed lion. For the rest of the journey Mr. Swainson always spoke of our friend as the "Lion," which happened to be rather an appropriate nickname, considering the leonine appearance his great tawny beard gave him.

As Mrs. Smith and I felt very tired we went early to our tent, and so missed a great deal of the fun which, judging from the loud laughter we heard coming from the house, only began after our departure. Thinking we were probably kept awake by it, and might need some sort of supper to induce sleep, kind Captain Smith brought us some nice roasted potatoes and eels, which we greatly enjoyed.

THIRD DAY

We had an early breakfast in the house, where Mr. Walters gave us excellent fried potatoes and bacon, which made us think of Devonshire fare. We also had honey, which had the peculiar taste of the Grecian honey, which my sister used to send me from Corfu. It was obtained from the neighbouring forest, where wild bees make their hives in hollow trees. The Maoris, on finding these, cut them down, and sometimes obtain from them several hundred pounds weight of honey.

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On hearing where we were going to meet our canoe our host kindly offered to conduct us by a shorter and easier road than the Maoris intended to take, but the result of accepting his guidance was not what he led us to expect. The wood he took us through was beautiful, as far as the trees and vegetation went, but the path was nowhere to be seen. A little experience of the difficulty of getting through it convinced us that it was the densest thicket we had yet penetrated. We were forced to dismount from our horses, because we were barred across the body at every step we took by branches of trees, or caught round the neck by supplejacks or other creepers depending from them. Even when leading our horses we had the greatest difficulty in preventing the packages, fastened to our saddles, being wrenched away, and the saddle flaps and stirrups torn off. As the gentlemen were leading the horses we ladies had more leisure to examine the plants around us than we had yesterday in coming through the "Ten Mile Bush." The profusion of mosses and ferns I shall never forget. I tried to carry off a piece of bark, covered with the most graceful and delicate specimens of hymenophyllum, but it and other treasures we possessed ourselves of had to be thrown away in the end.

The tameness of the birds, especially fantails and yellow-hammers, was very surprising. They seemed to follow us, and perched close beside us whenever we stood still, giving us quite a welcome to their lovely wooded haunts.

By the time we got through the wood poor Mr. Swainson was quite exhausted with his efforts to get the horses

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through. In spite of all his trouble, my saddle presented a very dilapidated appearance, the flaps and shoe being completely torn off. What vexed me most about it was that the saddle was not my own, having been lent to me by the kind Smiths.

Soon after leaving the wood we reached the bank of a small tributary of the Waikato, where we had to wait till our Maoris caught us up, when the horses were got across with some difficulty, as the banks were steep, and the bed of the stream boggy. The men were carried over pickaback by the Maoris, and we two ladies were carried in their arms, a mode of crossing streams that I got quite accustomed to. The man who carried me over said something in Maori when putting me down, which I wanted to know the meaning of. In the simplicity of my ignorance I turned for an explanation to Mrs. Smith, who inquired of Mr. Swainson. He, never thinking of the cruel blow he gave poor me, promptly replied, "Oh, it means big bundle." From that day my nickname was Pikau Nui (Big Bundle).

We passed through a Maori settlement about which I shall have more to say in the account of our return journey, and immediately afterwards got to the top of a rise, from which we obtained a fine panoramic view of the country, and our first sight of the broad waters of the Waikato flowing through it. 2 Then it was we understood why Mr. Swainson was so disappointed that we did not reach this spot the night before. He had planned all

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along that we should see a sunset and sunrise from it. And, looking at the broad landscape and flowing river before us we realised how much we had missed.

Meremere, the Maori village on the bank of the river, where the canoe was to meet us, was just below the rise on which we stood, and it did not take us long to get there. But to everyone's surprise no canoe was found there waiting for us. The villagers could do nothing to help us, as their chiefs were away; but they showed us a canoe about sixty feet long, drawn up on the river bank, which was just the kind of craft we needed. On learning the owner's name, and finding that he was an old acquaintance, Mr. Swainson decided to take French leave, and ordered the canoe to be put into the water. While it was being launched, Mrs. Smith and I amused ourselves talking to the Maori women, and showing them our scent bottles and trinkets. They were delighted with our Eau de Cologne, and we had some difficulty in preventing their drinking the contents of the bottle.

When everything was ready for a start, we seated ourselves on the soft couch of fresh, sweet smelling fern prepared for us at the stern of the canoe, and sat looking at the strange and beautiful scenery around us, while our natives paddled, and we moved slowly up stream against the rapid current.

I was delighted to see such a variety of tints in the foliage of New Zealand. I had always been told, before coming to the country, that I should find a great sameness of colouring in the vegetation. But here I was looking upon varieties of green that far outnumbered those of

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Europe. In the forests, and amongst the numerous species of ferns and mosses, and smaller ferns and plant life the shades of green ranged from the darkest pine tints to the lightest yellow-green of the lycopodium. And here, when we were paddling up the river, we were passing between masses of flax and toe-toe and raupo and rushes of various kinds, all of which displayed different tints of green. I much admired the graceful plume-like flowers of the toe-toe waving on all sides in the sunshine, as well as the numerous stiff flower stalks of the flax, which made the riverside look unlike anything I had ever seen before.

We paddled on and on, till hunger compelled us to stop for dinner. The canoe was fastened to the bank, and we all landed, when the Maoris made a fire in which to roast their potatoes. Jerry excited our curiosity by running off at full speed, without saying a word to anybody about the reason of his rushing away. When we were seated for dinner he reappeared with a quantity of beautiful peaches, which we had spied growing close to the river as we came along, and which he had gone off to gather for our benefit.

We often had good reason to thank the good missionaries for introducing the peach tree into New Zealand and teaching the Maoris always to plant the stones after eating the fruit, instead of throwing them away. The consequence was that wherever we went about the country in the summer time we got abundance of this

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delicious fruit, and often found the trees growing wild in quite out of the way places. 3

After dining we did a little exploring in the neighbourhood, for an hour or so, and re-embarked and proceeded on our way till the declining rays of the sun warned us that it was time to pitch the tents. There was nothing particularly attractive about the spot we chose for our camping ground. Kuia chose it probably because a friendly old Maori woman, whose hut stood close to the water, told him, in reply to his inquiries about the possibility of getting vegetables, that she had cabbages in her little garden, and as they were just what he wanted for the next stew, he ordered the canoe to be fastened for the night, and the tents to be pitched. Kuia busied himself at once concocting the stew for next day's dinner, which was made with a duck someone had shot while we were coming along, cabbages, potatoes, and some herbs which I contributed.

Our exertions in getting from Mr. Walters's to Meremere, in the morning, and the worry caused by not finding the canoe there in readiness for us, and having to take one without the owner's leave, made us feel in no mood to be hilarious, and we all retired to our tents at an early hour.

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FOURTH DAY

We woke early, and being in despair for a wash, which we stood in much need of, Mrs. Smith and I invoked the aid of the old Maori woman, and got her to show us a place in the river where we could bathe without any fear of being drowned. We started before the gentlemen were up. We were just ready for our dip when a canoe full of Maoris suddenly appeared close to us. We crouched down in the wet reeds, trying to hide from their view, while they talked away to the old woman. We got so cold and shivery waiting for them to go that we were obliged to reveal our presence by calling out "Haere ra," (please go away)--a request which they good naturedly complied with. Then we accomplished our object, and got a thorough good wash, but owing to the long waiting in the wet reeds we both got at the same time very severe colds, which troubled us for days afterwards.

We enjoyed our breakfast, which was of the usual substantial kind that our good caterer of the mess provided for us. The hot coffee after our dip in the cold river was more than usually acceptable. I happened to remark during the meal that the promise that I should taste damper, or bushman's bread, on this trip, had not yet been fulfilled. The caterer explained that it was Mrs. Montressor Smith's fault, as she had undertaken to make some, and had not yet kept her promise. She excused herself by saying that the ashes at our temporary camp fires were not sufficient to properly cook damper. I may explain, for the information of those who do not know what damper is, that it is a sort of biscuit, made with

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flour and water and a little salt. It is about the size of a dinner plate, and less than an inch thick. It is cooked by clearing aside the wood fire and placing the cake on the heated hearth, heaping hot ashes upon it to a depth of two or three inches. It is left till both sides are brown and crisp. It is then split down the middle and buttered, when it is ready for immediate consumption. We talked so much about damper at our meal that Mr. Swainson suggested that this was a good opportunity of bestowing a nickname upon Mrs. Montressor Smith, who was the only member of our party who had not yet acquired one. She had disappointed the hopes and expectations raised by her promise, and till she redeemed it she was to bear the name of Mrs. Damper. Henceforth while in the Waikato, and until we returned to Auckland, we were to be known to one another by the names we had acquired on the journey--Mr. Swainson as "Kuia," he being caterer of the mess; Captain Montressor Smith as "Pemberton" or lady's attendant; Mr. Shepherd as "Lion," being the supposed owner of a stuffed one; I, "Pikau nui," or heavy bundle; Mrs. Montressor Smith as "Mrs. Damper."

This day the scenery we passed through was decidedly monotonous, and less interesting than usual, the hills being too far away on either side of the river to be seen. But we passed some very pretty islets, covered with toe-toe in full bloom which, when seen from certain positions as we went by, assumed a beautiful golden hue in the sunlight. The river seemed broader than the one we traversed yesterday and, in places, nearly half a mile wide, but it was much shallower. There was not much

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traffic on the river. Occasionally a large canoe passed, loaded with sacks of wheat or baskets of Indian corn, or potatoes, or kumaras and melons, which were being taken to the portage of Waiuku, where the produce would be shipped on board some little vessel, and carried across the Manukau Harbour to the Auckland market. The canoes were carried along with the current, while the men in charge of them amused themselves chanting rather monotonous boat songs and love ditties.

A small canoe, with a man at the stern and a woman at the bows, now and again crossed our path. They were either paying a call on friends or going to visit one of their cultivations; for Maoris like to carry on their farming operations in several localities as by doing so they keep up their rights of ownership to different pieces of land. The same man would plant his potatoes in one place and corn in another; and the cultivations were sometimes so far apart that they had to build separate huts for their use in such places.

Night overtook us before reaching Rangiriri, and we camped on the river bank. "Kuia" had nothing to prepare for next day's stew, as the ducks we saw on the way were very wild, and kept well out of range. However it did not much matter, as we hoped to reach the Ashwells' mission station before another stew would be required.

It began to pour with rain and we rather feared that, deprived of a walk, and compelled to keep inside our tents, we should find time hang heavily on our hands; but so far from its doing so, we spent a very merry time, in spite of the rain and the mosquitoes. We gathered

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into one tent, which we lighted by fastening a candle to a stick thrust into the ground floor of the tent. The "Lion" entertained us with Mrs. Crowe's ghost stories, 4 and the recital of several interesting incidents connected with his own eventful life. The light was so placed that the shadow of the Lion's great beard was cast on the wall of the tent; and watching the comical way in which the beard wagged about, as the speaker told his tales, was in itself an evening's amusement.

FIFTH DAY

We breakfasted by daybreak, as we wished to reach the Ashwells by tea time. We had to complete our toilets in the canoe where, by the aid of a moistened towel, we managed to wash our hands and faces. The river soon got so shallow that it became for a while difficult to paddle, so the natives got out and dragged the canoe. It was slow work, but amusing to watch, as every now and then a man would suddenly disappear into a hole, with the result that only his head, instead of his body, was to be seen beside the canoe. Their faces were always on the broad grin whenever this happened; and no bad language was ever indulged in, at any time, or under any circumstances, however provoking and annoying.

Watene, who joined our party after we left Auckland, made himself conspicuous by his extreme loquacity; no canoe was allowed to pass without his hailing it, and having a long tale to tell. It seemed to be the custom

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of the country for all travellers to exchange news with one another. Watene was never at a loss for news when asked for it by those we met, but whether what he supplied was true or not nobody could say.

In the course of the morning we passed a nice looking house, close to the river, which belonged to an English gentleman named Armitage, 5 who had made his home there, and taken to himself a Maori wife. He came down to speak to us as we went by, and brought us some fine cucumbers.

The monotony of our surroundings, as seen from our lowly position in the canoe, induced us to get out and walk along the bank of the river, where we enjoyed a more varied and extended prospect. Our natives, who were still dragging the heavy canoe over the shallows, were glad to be relieved of our weight. Coming to a suitable place for our midday meal and rest, we sat down and enjoyed the tinned beef, and Mr. Armitage's cucumbers and the potatoes our men roasted for us.

We could now see the conical wooded hill called Taupiri, which was exactly opposite the mission station where we were going to stop. It seemed quite close to us, but it took several hours to reach it, owing to the winding course of the river and the strength of the current; for as we approached the hills the stream became narrower, and deeper and swifter. The scenery improved more and more as we approached the mountain, and the sunset we

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witnessed was lovely, the descending sun shedding beautiful rays of light upon the wooded hills behind which it disappeared.

Just at dusk our canoe stopped at what looked like a landing place, and we were told we had reached our destination. We had not long to wait for a hearty welcome from good Mr. Ashwell 6 who, with a beaming face, appeared on the bank above us before we could get out of the canoe. As we got up beside him he grasped us each warmly by the hand, and made us feel at once that he meant to treat us all as old friends. Of course, Mr. Swainson and Mr. Shepherd he knew, but I, at all events, was a perfect stranger, and very much appreciated the little gentleman's warm-hearted manner towards us.

It was a very pleasant surprise to see close at hand the buildings of the mission station, embosomed in a thicket of acacia trees. My first impression of the place brought back to me the memory of one of our loveliest English parsonages among the Westmoreland hills; I thought I had never seen anything to surpass its beauty, either in England, Scotland or dear Wales. With its background of high hills it looked a picture of peace and beauty. From the river we walked through a clover field up to a small gate, which opened into a well-kept flower garden, fragrant with the scent of roses, which were blooming everywhere, and big bushes of lemon-scented geranium.

The house, which was built of weather-boards, looked very picturesque. It was surrounded by a broad veranda,

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by which access was gained to the school buildings, which adjoined the missionary's residence. Clusters of roses and jessamine and fuchsia adorned the supports of the veranda, and also the walls of the school buildings.

Mrs. Ashwell and her two daughters, Sarah and Mary, met us on the veranda, and renewed the welcome to their hospitable home already given by Mr. Ashwell, which helped us to feel more than ever certain that our visit would be a very pleasant one. We had barely time given us to wash our hands before we were summoned to tea, which we attacked with our usual voracious bush appetites, and did justice to the meal our kind host and hostess had provided for us. After tea we had a little music and general conversation, and then family prayers, and went off to bed.

Mrs. Montressor Smith and I shared the same room, while our gentlemen occupied the tents which we brought with us, as the mission house was not large enough to take us all in at once. We much enjoyed our nicely furnished bedroom, and the comfortable bed and clean sheets, and especially the washing-stand, with all its accessories, for only those can realise our enjoyment of the luxury of a good wash who, like ourselves, have lost the only vessel they could wash in, and are travelling for days together through wild, out of the way places, where it was impossible to procure another, or to provide a substitute. Unfortunately for my night's rest my special foes, the mosquitoes, found me out, and my hands were so bitten that in their swollen condition they were far from being presentable at the breakfast table next morning.

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SIXTH DAY

Thus was a memorable Sunday for me, being the first I had ever spent in a house full of Maoris. We began the day with morning prayers in the schoolroom, where seventy children were present. As I looked upon the rows of clean, neatly dressed and well behaved children I found it hard to realise that they were the offspring of people who were savage cannibals when I was a young child.

As the hour for morning service approached, the boys and girls marched off in separate divisions, under their respective native teachers, to the church, which was about a mile away. The boys' dress, consisting of white duck trousers and blue shirts, looked most becoming. The girls wore neat lilac print frocks and straw bonnets. Neither boys nor girls wore shoes, which I thought very wise, for why should their shapely feet be confined and misshapen by our uncomfortable foot covering.

The church looked very unlike the sort of building we are accustomed to in England. It was just a large thatched Maori house, capable of holding about two hundred people. The broad wooden posts which formed the side walls and supported the roof, as well as the rafters, were covered with boldly drawn scroll patterns in red, white and black.

The school children sat on benches near the communion rails. The rest of the congregation squatted on the earthen floor, which was covered with native matting. All the men sat on one side and the women on the other. Some of the congregation wore European clothes, but

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the majority were clad in native mats, or had only a blanket wrapped round their bodies. The service was most hearty and impressive. My feelings nearly overcame me during the singing, when the people seemed to pour out their whole being in the effort to praise and give thanks to our common God and Father in heaven. It was hard to realise that every one of the earnest worshippers around me who was over forty years of age had been a cannibal, and a worshipper and servant of malignant evil spirits. I longed that those of my English friends who felt disheartened about the results of Christian mission work among the heathen could have shared my experience, and seen with their own eyes the attentive congregation I was worshipping with, and listened to their hearty united responses which one is accustomed to in our English churches.

At the close of the service we all walked back to the mission house, where we found all the children nicely arranged in classes in the schoolroom. I sat down beside Mrs. Ashwell and listened to her teaching her class. The lesson was on the eighth chapter of Romans, and the answers given to some questions which I put to them-- by Mrs. Ashwell's request--were clearly and correctly answered.

Before we left the room Mr. Ashwell catechised the whole school for some time. He asked me to put any questions I liked to the young people, but not being prepared to accept the invitation, Mr. Swainson took advantage of it, and asked:

"In what respect does the love between man and man differ from the love of God for man?"

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The answer came at once: "Christ's love never changes; man's love may change." Another pupil called out: "A man will very seldom die for a friend, but Christ died for His enemies."

The scholars showed their knowledge of Scripture by proving Christian doctrines about which they were questioned, from texts, giving chapter and verse every time.

At the close of the catechising we all adjourned to a large dining-room where the school children and the native teachers took their seats at two long tables--males at one and females at the other. A smaller table at the end of the room was set apart for the missionary's family and guests.

It was most interesting to see all these young Maoris being taught to lay aside their wild ways and to sit and behave nicely at table, using their knives and forks and spoons, and eating their food like civilised beings, instead of grabbing with their fingers at the contents of a common dish or Maori basket, and feeding more like beasts than men.

Late in the afternoon we took a short walk up the hill at the back of the house, from which we got a good view of the Waikato Valley and the mountains which bound it towards the south. We watched the sunset, which was very beautiful. It lighted up long reaches of the river, which, from its many windings, caught our eyes, and it left a rich glow along the ridges of the western hills.

On our way back we met all the happy school children in a field through which we passed, and I am afraid that the excitement caused by our appearance amongst them with a spy glass, through which some of them were

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allowed to look, caused them to become rather more noisy than good Mr. Ashwell liked them to be on a Sunday. We were introduced to two fine little children called Wetene, after Mr. Swainson, a great favourite with the Maoris, who regarded him as a great English chief.

Mr. Ashwell gave us an English service; but my gravity was rather disturbed by his giving out as his text the very one Mr. Swainson told me long before that he would choose. The dear man was very earnest and very zealous, but not always very discreet. But no one could fail to be impressed by his sincerity, and the genuineness of his faith and trust in God. And one felt the better for knowing him and witnessing his zeal for God's service, which was evidently delightful to him.

After tea we spent a very enjoyable time listening to the school children singing. I was more surprised by their knowledge of music than by anything else I had yet witnessed. They sang correctly in parts difficult music by Mendelssohn and other composers, such as "Sleepers Awake," "To God on High," "Dark Shades of Night," and the Hallelujah Chorus.

Family prayers closed the day's proceedings, and I retired to rest, feeling very thankful that I had been privileged to see such a good work being carried on by God's faithful servants in this so lately heathen land.

SEVENTH DAY

We were in the schoolroom by seven o'clock in the morning, and here awaited me another great surprise. The children were questioned on the prophecies in the

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Old Testament relative to our Lord, and though the examination was conducted in English, I cannot describe the ease and rapidity with which the scholars turned from one passage to another, showing how and where each was fulfilled in our Lord's life.

Mrs. Montressor Smith and I were so interested and absorbed in what was taking place in the schoolroom that we did not realise how the time was going, and had no idea, when Mr. Swainson joined us, that his object in coming was to remind us that the breakfast hour had arrived and that the lady of the house was waiting for us. Her enthusiastic husband seemed to have forgotten the existence of everything but what he was for the moment doing. Just then he was showing us how well up the children were in geographical knowledge. First they pointed out all the places visited by St. Paul in his missionary journeyings. Then they traced the travels of Livingstone 7 and other explorers in Africa. Their general knowledge of geography seemed quite up-to-date in everything.

While this was going on, the Lion entered, having been sent as a second messenger to summon us to breakfast. But I looked so interested that he had not the heart to interrupt my enjoyment. And when Mr. Ashwell-- who was perhaps reminded of the flight of time by the arrival of the two gentlemen--asked me if I was tired, and I said, "Oh, no; do go on," the Lion groaned, and Kuia laughed; but it was too late to interfere, and they were doomed to spend another hour in the school-

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room before they were free to attack the riwais (potatoes) and pork which had so long awaited them in the breakfast-room. When the longed-for moment did come, the Lion forgot his wrath and the pain caused by a severe bruise which he had received on the head while bathing in the early morning. He had dived into the river head foremost, thinking the water was deep, and struck his forehead with great violence against the bottom of the river. The account he gave of the accident at the breakfast table was so comical that it excited more merriment than sympathy, poor man.

During breakfast we heard many interesting anecdotes relating to the Maori scholars. Some of them were romantic enough to be worth embodying in a novel. It is the Maori custom to betroth the young people of the same tribe when quite young. But as love will not be forced, it often happens that the young people refuse to carry out the bargain made by their parents and express their determination to choose for themselves. When this happens, the wrath of the parents knows no bounds. Mr. Ashwell told us that Mary, the nice looking girl of sixteen who had excited our admiration during the examination we had just been listening to, by her quick and clever answers in arithmetic, and all the other subjects the school was questioned upon, was herself betrothed in infancy to her cousin, whom she now disliked and refused on any account to marry. He said that he and Mrs. Ashwell hoped that she might marry one of the native teachers, who was studying for the ministry, but they dared not suggest such a thing at present to the young people themselves or to the parents.

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One very interesting case we heard about was that of a young girl who refused to marry the man she was betrothed to, and when beaten by her parents fled for protection to the Ashwells, who, fearing that her life was in danger, concealed her for some time at the top of their house.

After breakfast we went up the Mangawhara stream in our canoe, taking Sarah and Mary Ashwell with us. The reflections of the bordering vegetation in the still water of the stream were perfect. It was hard to distinguish the substance from its shadow.

On returning to the station we again visited the schoolroom, and stayed there till dinner was announced. At dinner we saw Mr. Ashwell's right-hand man, Heta Tarawhiti, who was the first native to come forward and help him to establish the school. He had a very pleasing expression of face, and was really a good-looking man in spite of his being partly tattooed. For ten years he had been working with Mr. Ashwell without remuneration of any sort, and, being a chief of good birth, his influence and example have been of great service to the mission. The reason we did not see him on Sunday was that he had gone, as usual, to hold services at some important centre of native population in Mr. Ashwell's district.

At Mr. Swainson's instigation I asked for a holiday for the school in the afternoon, which was readily granted. To employ the time pleasantly it was suggested that we should pay a visit, by water, to the boys' quarters at Hopohopo, four miles up the river. Two canoes were filled, one with boys and the other with girls. The ladies

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went with the boys, and the gentlemen with the girls, and great fun was caused by the occupants of each canoe being urged by their elders to make every effort to be the first to reach Hopohopo. Each canoe was propelled by about twenty paddles, and the splashing they made, and the loud cries of those who urged on the youthful paddlers, kept us all in a state of pleasant excitement until we reached the landing place.

Mr. Ashwell told us that he would like to remove all his buildings to this site, which he considered more healthy and a better position for his institution. The views were certainly grander than those obtained at Taupiri, but the place lacked its sweet, snug look. Various opinions were expressed by the members of our party when asked which they would choose if the question rested with them. I thought a painter would prefer Taupiri, but a farmer would probably agree with Mr. Ashwell and choose Hopohopo. I had a good game of romps with the girls, who were all merry-hearted young things and easily amused.

We saw the most glorious sunset before the time came for returning to Taupiri, and we lingered on, watching its beauty, till the shades of night fell around us. Then we all got into the girls' canoe, as the boys remained behind in their own quarters. They cheered us heartily as we pushed off from the bank. The current was so strong that there was no need to use much exertion in paddling, and we were carried swiftly along on the smooth surface of the river, which shone like molten silver in the moonlight. I sat quietly, wrapped in my own

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thoughts, which were occupied with the experiences of the last two happy days, and wondering what the future had in store for New Zealand and its intelligent and fascinating inhabitants. The soft, sweet singing of the girls who crowded the canoe filled my ears with familiar melodies, and my eyes feasted on the loveliness of the scenery past which we were gliding, all lighted up by the silvery light of the moon.

All too soon I was awakened from my pleasant dreaming and told to get out of the canoe, as we were at Taupiri. After doing justice to a substantial tea, we amused ourselves, until prayer time, with a variety of games. After prayers I stayed behind talking to the girls, who knew a little English, and gave them some of my cards and books, and also some of the little boxes and beads and other things sent to me by Harriet Kemble for the purpose of distribution. Before leaving the room I noticed all the girls putting their heads together and whispering. Then they came up to Sarah Ashwell and asked her to give me a message for them which was, to come and spend next Christmas with them. I never valued an invitation more, or felt more inclined to accept it, especially when it was repeated by kind Mr. and Mrs. Ashwell, towards whom I felt already as much drawn as if they were friends of old standing.

On retiring to our bedroom Mrs. Smith and I chatted like two excited girls till long after midnight over the novel and pleasant experiences of the past two days; and when we did fall asleep our slumbers were so sound that we did not hear the morning prayer bell; and knowing that our absence would be noticed and remarked upon

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by the Maoris, we felt much ashamed of having set such a bad example on our last morning at Taupiri.

EIGHTH DAY

We parted with our kind, hospitable friends at Taupiri with great regret. I wished that I could have seen more of Mrs. Ashwell, for the little I did see of her made me deeply interested in the story of her life in New Zealand She had passed, like all the other missionaries' wives through periods of great danger and privation, which had left their mark upon her health. The death of her only boy, Benjamin, whom she had hoped to see some day engaged in the sacred work of the ministry, was a sad blow to her, and some lines she gave me at parting afford touching proof of the depth of her sorrow and the chastened spirit in which it was borne.


WATCHING HER DYING BOY

Beside the dark Waikato's stream
That mother watched her dying child,
Brooding as one in fitful dream,
With mingled hopes and fancies wild.
And as the boy grew weak and thin,
He grew more beautiful and fair,
And the bright flush upon his cheek
Told Death had set his signet there.
Her woman's heart, by Love made strong,
Had fearless sought that southern shore.
And the dark race she dwelt among
Were strangers to the Word no more.

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She murmured not, though one by one
Her every tie to earth was riven,
For always, as the day was done,
The fading sunlight told of heaven.
Like Hagar and the desert child
She bowed before her Maker's will;
A stranger in the distant wild
Beside that river dark and still.
And as she watched her dying boy,
His young life ebbing day by day,
A kind of melancholy joy
Would often through her musing stray.
Though in the forest's calm retreat
Upon his grave the flowers might bloom,
She knew that they once more should meet
Beyond the quiet of the tomb.
'Twas a sweet place wherein to die,
Too bright a spot to call a grave;
Beneath the tree fern's shade to lie,
Beside Waikato's murmuring wave. 8

We left our friends busily engaged in the daily routine work of teaching in the school. Their dear young daughters, Sarah and Mary, accompanied us down to the river and saw us off in our canoe, and stood waving farewells till we were out of sight. I hoped it would not be my last visit to Taupiri, where I experienced so much

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kindness and made the acquaintance of such good friends.

We had not gone far when a man was seen running along the river bank after us, waving and shouting, evidently to attract our attention, so the canoe stopped till he caught up with us. He proved to be the deserter Ratu, who left without leave the day we reached Taupiri, and in whose place another man had been engaged. He looked very crestfallen when told that his services were not required, and we left him standing on the bank, trying to recover his breath after his long run.

As we glided past some islets covered with the graceful toe-toe grass, we came across several canoes filled with Maoris who were on the way from the upper Waikato to Rangiriri to attend a great political meeting assembled to discuss the Land League movement. Some of the young men had painted their faces with red ochre, which is always a sign that they are bent on mischief. The practice had been laid aside with other savage customs when the people embraced Christianity. This revival of the practice foreboded evil to the Europeans in the near future. It was a proof that the reactionary party was gaining strength, and that the Loyalists and Moderates were beginning to lose ground. Floating alongside the canoe was the model of a Maori house, made of rushes, from the roof of which a number of flags were flying. The model was symbolical of something, but of what I could never find out.

Mr. Swainson explained to us the cause of the growing unrest among the natives. He said that ever since 1840, when the Maoris became English subjects by their

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own request, they had governed themselves. The chiefs had administered such laws as the missionaries suggested to them. Serious crimes were unknown between 1840 and 1850. Then the English population began to increase so rapidly that the Maoris became alarmed, especially when they found that the new arrivals wanted land, and that the Government would not allow them to purchase directly from the natives, but claimed to exercise their right of pre-emption, which deprived the Maoris (who found themselves getting poorer every day) of any chance of benefiting by the influx of European population by selling land to them. The Maoris saw that in a few years they would be outnumbered and lose all political power in the country. How to prevent this was one of the questions to be discussed at the Rangiriri meeting.

On reaching the mouth of the stream which connects the Waikare Lake with Waikato, we turned into it and passed a number of weirs erected by the natives who, at certain seasons, catch enormous quantities of small eels in large basketwork traps. The eels are partially cooked or dried in the sun, and then packed in baskets and stored for future use. Several tons are caught each year, and the fishing rights on the stream are highly valued by the Maoris in the neighbourhood.

When we entered the lake we saw nothing much to admire. The shores all round it were flat and uninteresting, and its swampy and sedgy margin appealed rather to the sportsman than the artist. It was a favourite resort for wild fowl, and ducks in particular seemed very abundant.

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On re-entering the river we continued to move down stream till we passed a clump of peach trees which were covered with large, ripe fruit. Our men landed, and in a few minutes collected over two hundred, on which we feasted for some time.

On reaching Rangiriri, a sight met our eyes which was almost worth coming into the Waikato to see. About three hundred Maoris were assembled, all of whom seemed to be in a great state of excitement. Several rough sheds had been put up for their accommodation, having the appearance of hurdles set up in the ground and covered with matting. In front of these shelters a number of men were lying extended at full length, with their firearms piled against the shed behind them. They were listening to speeches being made by chiefs clad in native mats and carrying some weapon in their hands, marching backwards and forwards, speaking in loud tones, and occasionally using violent gestures.

In the neighbouring whares grave consultations were going on amongst the various committees appointed to report on the questions submitted to them, all of which bore upon the strained relations existing between the two races who were now face to face in the land. Each professed the same faith and bore allegiance to the same sovereign, but each was forced into a position of antagonism with the other by economic causes.

Our arrival was regarded as most opportune by the friendly chiefs, who found great difficulty in answering many of the arguments of the anti-English party. But with the assistance of the late Attorney-General and

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Colonial Treasurer, and a Resident Magistrate, they hoped to do so satisfactorily.

Most of the Maoris attending the gathering were ostentatiously displaying their native dress and ornaments and weapons. I saw for the first time a tiki worn round a chief's neck. It is an ornament made of greenstone procured from the South Island, and is highly valued as an heirloom, because of its having been worn as a necklet by successive generations of ancestors. I tried in vain to procure specimens of shark's tooth and greenstone ear ornaments, but no one could be induced to part with them. 9

I was much interested in watching the native method of cooking food, which I saw for the first time. The process was conducted entirely by the elderly women. A shallow, round hole, about a yard across, was made in the ground. This was lined with hard stones about the size of a duck's egg, upon which dry wood was piled and fired. By the time the wood was consumed, the stones had become red hot. Upon the hot stones thistles or cabbage leaves were laid, and upon them the food to be cooked, whatever it was, potatoes, pumpkin, corn, meat, etc. Over the food wet matting was laid, and on the matting earth was heaped to a depth of several inches. Through a hole left in the top a bucket of water was poured, which, falling on the hot stones, created a quantity of steam. The hole was at once closed with earth and no steam allowed to escape.

While the food was cooking, the women folk, young

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and old, busied themselves making small baskets with green leaves of flax, about the size of a small soup tureen. Into these baskets the cooked food was placed when taken out of the hangi, or oven. Those intended for chiefs or honoured guests always had some delicacy added, which was laid across the top of the kono containing the hot food.

When everything was ready to be served, all the women and girls formed a procession, each carrying a basket in her hands, which she set down before the person for whom it was intended. We noticed a sort of master of the ceremonies, who directed the women and saw to the wants of all the guests. Nor were we pakehas overlooked when the konos were being handed about. One was given to us, and very good indeed its contents proved to our taste. The potatoes and sweet kumaras were delicious, and our hosts seemed gratified by the sight of our evident enjoyment of their national cookery.

It was very amusing watching the different groups around us and taking notice of their dresses. The chief of the place, and many of his friends, looked quite stately and dignified in their toga-like mats. The chief's sister, Mary, might, as far as her dress was concerned, have graced the stage. She was a nice, bright looking girl, with short petticoats and plenty of them, which surprised us, as a single garment is, in general, thought sufficient to complete a Maori female's attire. She had a sort of open blue and white jacket, showing another white loose one beneath. Across her shoulders she wore a red scarf and on her head a white straw hat trimmed with black ribbon.

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Piteous sounds fell upon our ears from time to time whenever fresh guests arrived, and the nose-rubbing process was much in evidence, and the mournful chanting between the meeting friends who, with streaming eyes and noses, exchanged their doleful greetings. The young men of Rangiriri erected, with incredible rapidity, the shedlike shelters for the accommodation of their guests. While some put up the hurdles and roofed them, others hurried backwards and forwards with bundles of fresh fern to make the bedding and bundles of dry wood to supply light and warmth.

The arrival of two large canoes from Lower Waikato, crowded with people, added greatly to the animation of the scene as the resident natives met them with loud cries of welcome and led them to the sheds provided for them. Amongst the new arrivals we noticed two very fine looking men who proved to be Tahitians on a visit to Auckland, and who, hearing of this meeting, had come up to see the fun. They spoke a little English, and as they could both read I promised them some books if they came to church the next morning.

In the evening we took a short walk and obtained pretty views of the river and the neighbouring lake, and returned to find our tents pitched on a rising ground close to the church, from which we commanded a good view of the Maori encampment. I rather feared being so close to it, as I expected we might be disturbed by the noise of quarrelling when so many, whom we are apt to consider still as savages, were gathered together without the restraining influence of a single magistrate or policeman. But not an unpleasant sound of any sort disturbed

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us. Several natives joined our Maoris round their camp fire, and supplied us with pleasant entertainment, watching their eager faces and listening to their merry laughter. I longed for a painter's skill to depict the strange scene of stir and life around me.

The quantity of food consumed by our men astonished us. Their capacity for eating led us to think they had that day stowed away enough for a month. It is the Maori maxim to eat when you can get it; and to show your host that you enjoy what he provides for you by eating as much as you can.

We were surprised and pleased to see the Maoris, in spite of their excited state of feeling, and their feasting and speech-making, laying everything aside and filing silently into the church when the evening bell for prayer summoned them. Hami, the chief, asked Mr. Swainson to read prayers, but he politely declined the intended compliment, and Hami read them himself in a very pleasing manner. The natives were, as usual, very devout, and made the responses in a hearty manner. About two hundred of the adults attended. The loudness and uniformity with which all the responses and aniens were made was very impressive and produced a solemnising effect upon those who, like myself, understood little or nothing of what was said. It was the fervour of the worship which so impressed me.

The church, which was entirely built by the Maoris, consisted of a wooden framework covered with thatch. Broad slabs were set up in the ground, and the broad rafters rested on these and upon a ridge pole eighty feet

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long. All the uprights and rafters were covered with large scroll patterns in white and red and black. There were no seats; the congregation squatted on matting, with which the earthen floor was covered. A plain communion table and a kneeling-rail around it were the only furniture the church contained.

As I had quite made up my mind to try to see the sunrise from the spot Mr. Swainson took us to watch the sunset from, Mrs. Smith and I retired early to our tent.

NINTH DAY

I slept well, and got up about four o'clock. The night had been very fine, so I was not in the least prepared for Captain Smith's voice warning me that I should get wet to my waist if I attempted to walk through the bushes to the hilltop at that early hour. The only effect of the warning was to add zest to my desire to encounter a fresh bush experience. I set off in high glee, in a pair of borrowed goloshes. All ye who read, beware of copying my heedless example. I had never counted upon the heavy dews which moisten the earth at the season we were travelling in. I did not take the exact path by which we went the previous evening, and was soon in the midst of high wet reeds in swampy ground, where I lost one of my goloshes in the deep mud. I tried in vain to find it, and had to leave it behind, while the other refused to stay on my foot. In despair, I cooeed and cooeed, and at last Jerry came to my rescue. I found I was already as wet up to my waist as I could be, as Captain Smith foretold, and, not liking to go

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back and confess that I had failed in my purpose, I left Jerry trying to fish the lost golosh out of the mud, and forced my way through the wet brushwood to the place I wanted to reach. But alas, alas, no sunrise could I see; the mists were only just beginning to clear off the mountains, and it was no use waiting until they were gone. Disappointed, wet and shivering, and feeling very humbled and small, I returned to the tent. I resolved in my own mind that, in the future, I would listen to the wise "old hands," and not betray my "new chum" self-confidence in the same way again.

I found the party all comfortably seated, and about to begin the usual morning attack upon our favourite tinned beef and hot coffee. They looked happy, and dry, a contrast to my draggled and miserable appearance.

The tents were struck, and everything packed up, but I managed to extricate a pair of dry shoes and stockings, but nothing else. I retired to the church, being the only place where I could escape from the public gaze, and had just got my dry stockings on when the door opened, and in streamed a blanketed crowd of Maoris to attend morning prayer. All our party were present, and after the service I gave the Otahitians the books I had promised them the day before.

Before getting into the canoe Mr. Swainson made me jump backwards and forwards over the glowing embers of our camp fire to try and dry my underclothes; but, though I spent some time at this novel skipping exercise, it did not really dry my clothes, and only made me feel a little warmer for a while. After sitting in the canoe

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for an hour I got very cold. Mrs. "Damper" tried all sorts of ways to get me warm, without success. Then it was decided that I must get out of my wet clothes at once. My bundle was opened, and the necessary garments procured from it. Then, under cover of my large grey cloak, which entirely concealed my movements, I changed my clothes.

Mr. Swainson gave me a little brandy from his flask, but as I continued to shiver he stopped the canoe, and had a large fire made on the river bank, standing beside which I soon got warm again. All the harm my morning wetting did was to give a great deal of trouble to my kind friends, but at the same time a good laugh at my expense. My punishment was the addition of "Kuware," or "Foolish," added to my other nicknames.

Proceeding down the river we passed an old Maori woman with an extraordinary black and white feather head-dress, which stuck out nearly nine inches in all directions. She hailed me as a friend and benefactress, and greeted me in a whining tone of voice, stretching out her arms towards me and opening and shutting the palms of her hands. It appears that I saw her when we were going up the river, and gave her one of my pills, as she complained of feeling ill, and that it did her good. I also gave her some needles and thread, which pleased her very much.

We were gliding quickly down stream when we unexpectedly struck the submerged trunk of a huge tree, with great violence. The sudden jerk threw the Lion (who was occupying the bows of the canoe) upon his face, his arms overhanging and touching the water on

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either side of the canoe. The position was so ludicrous that it quite upset the gravity of our Maoris, who roared with laughter. Their merriment became contagious, and we all joined in it.

We were now nearing the part of the river from which we started on our canoe journey, and found the scenery improving every moment, because we were approaching the hills, and had something more beautiful to look at than the flax and rushes growing beside the water, which was all we could see for the first two days on our way up the river.

With great regret we landed, and parted from our canoe. The good-tempered owner met us at the landing place, and displayed no resentment towards us for having so unceremoniously taken possession of his property without his permission. The result of his talk with Mr. Swainson, and the payment he received for the use of his canoe, were evidently very satisfactory to him.

Leaving the river we walked by a narrow Maori path --just like a sheep track--up to a native village about a mile and a half away. From the top of a hill near it we took a parting look at the broad waters of the lovely Waikato, sweeping onwards to the sea.

When we got to the pa there was a long delay before the horses could be caught, and then it become a question whether we could reach Mr. Walters's before dark. While this was being discussed it came on to rain, and that settled the question, so orders were at once given to pitch the tents. While this was being done, Mr. Swain-

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son, Mrs. Smith and I went for a short walk, never expecting to see anything particularly interesting. We were told we should see a watermill; but what made it interesting was not its beauty, but the fact that the owner was a Maori. It was a pleasant surprise therefore, on coming to a rising ground, to see spread out before us a wide expanse of undulating country, through which we could trace for some distance the winding channel of the Waikato. It recalled to my mind some part of the beautiful vale of Todmorden, in Yorkshire, without the disfiguring tall chimneys pouring forth dark volumes of smoke. Just below us flowed a pretty stream, and beside it stood the watermill, with its great revolving wheel; and a little farther on, a picturesque miniature waterfall.

Close to the mill was a good-sized Maori whare, at the door of which stood a fine, rosy-cheeked, black-eyed half-caste boy, who spoke English, and called himself Alan. He Answered our questions most intelligently, and informed us that his mother and sister lived there. As the mother was away from home we expressed a wish to make his sister's acquaintance, but this we found some difficulty in doing, for the poor child was so terrified by the sight of three strange white people that she ran away on our entering the house, and hid herself under the rafters. By dint of coaxing we got her to come down to us. But a more frightened, neglected-looking child I had never seen. There was plenty of intelligence in her face, and her changing colour and bright eyes showed that she could feel and appreciate kindness as much as ourselves. She spoke English, and I think I made her

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wish to go to school to be taught more about English ways.

I so far gained the little girl's confidence that she walked back hand in hand with me to our camp. I felt very sorry to part from this poor, neglected, half English little child, growing up where her higher nature could never properly be trained. I can only hope that she may be sent to share the advantages which Maori children now enjoy in the Waikato native schools. We were shown over the mill by the native owner, who seemed very proud of his property. He took us up two steep ladders to show us the working of the machinery. Everywhere we found the building clean and in good order.

On getting back to our tents we had a grand tea; stewed peaches formed the chief dish and were voted excellent fare. The rain poured down in torrents, so we got together in one tent, and prepared to be entertained by the Lion with more of Mrs. Crowe's ghost stories, but they were superseded by stories about his own past life. While telling these he was rather interrupted by the too familiar attentions of the Maori ladies of the pa, who seemed fascinated by his great beard which, much to his annoyance, they would persist in stroking. They had never seen anything like it before, as Maori men do not allow hair to grow on the face, as it would conceal the tattooing. Before razors were introduced they pulled their beards out with two flat shells.

The Lion had seated himself just inside the tent door and held his big hat on his knee, with a lighted candle stuck on top of it, while, with mock gravity, he related his amusing stories, turning every now and again to

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rebuke the rudeness of his native female admirers, who crowded about him. There was something so extremely comical about the whole scene that it provoked our hearty laughter. George had at last to be called to protect our friend, and he drove the women away. We then drew down the curtain, and closed the entrance to the tent, but it got so hot and close that Mrs. Smith became rather faint, and had to be taken outside into the fresh air, when the discovery was made that the rain had ceased, and that the moon was shining brightly. We all went out, and amused ourselves chatting together until it was time to go to bed.

TENTH DAY

After a hearty breakfast we took a parting peep at the view near the mill which charmed us so much the evening before, and I gave Alan a pair of my old boots to give to his sister. Then we mounted our steeds, and took our last lingering look at the beautiful scenery we were leaving behind us. We returned by the Maori track instead of attempting to get through the wood to Mr. Walters's house, and found it far more easy for our horses. We formed quite a long procession on the narrow track, our Maoris bearing our baggage on their backs, walking one behind the other, and we following on horseback. Added to our party was one of the poor Lion's mesmerised admirers, who did not leave us until we reached Mr. Walters's, where we only stayed a few

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minutes, Mr. Swainson wishing to push through the forest as soon as possible.

The contrast between the conduct of the Maori women and men of the pa we had just left was most marked. While the women behaved most rudely, as I have already described, the men were most civil and attentive. Two of them accompanied Mrs. Smith and myself all the way to Mr. Walters's. We had to dismount several times on the way, while the horses were led over the streams or swampy places which crossed our path. These men led the horses for us, and when we waited to mount again, they, of their own accord, went down upon their hands and knees for us to step on their backs when getting into our saddles. Where the ground was swampy they cut down large flax bushes and laid them over the mud to prevent the horses sinking in, and in many other ways proved themselves to be good-mannered fellows.

At Mr. Walters's the Lion mesmerised a new and most valuable addition to our family, who accompanied us through the forest. He was quite a picture of an old English farmer, with white hair, rosy cheeks, and a bluff, kind, "John Bull" manner. His name was Hawke, and he told us that he came from Cornwall. He proved a source of amusement to us all the way, though, for that matter we had plenty to think of and to look at in the natural beauties of the forest scenery through which we passed. We regretted our inability to carry off with us specimens of the beautiful ferns and mosses and other plants which we so much admired.

On reaching the outskirts of the forest the old farmer

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showed us his home, which was close by, and made us all go round to see it. There he and his good wife regaled us with fresh milk and nice bread and butter, which tasted like delicacies after our late bush fare. When we left what we called "Hospitality Lodge" we moved quickly along, in a straggling procession, enjoying as we went the play of light and shadow on the landscape and the balmy air of a bright New Zealand day.

On reaching Kuia Grove, where we cooked our first bush meal on our way out, we found Mr. Swainson, who had gone on with the Maoris when we turned aside to Mr. Hawke's farm, had dinner ready for us. But neither the Lion nor the rest of us who visited the farm could eat anything more, so the Maoris got the leg of pork given us by kind Mr. Ashwell, and, through the forethought of George, plenty of potatoes to eat with it. He had hidden in the ground all that we did not use the first time we came, and dug them up for use now, on our return journey.

At about six o'clock we reached our camping ground for the night. It was close to Young's accommodation house, and we were pleased to find that the proprietor did not resent our preferring tents to his rooms, and showed his goodwill by supplying us with milk, and offering to give us anything else we wanted to make ourselves comfortable.

After sunset it became rather cold and frosty, and when told by the handsome Potau that he had no blanket to cover himself with, or anything beyond his thin day-clothes to protect him from the cold night air, I could not resist offering the good-looking fellow my grey cloak.

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the loan of which he gladly accepted. He showed his appreciation by treating me next day with extra attention and politeness.

ELEVENTH DAY

Our camp was pitched close to a small river, and I had visions of a refreshing bath in the morning. Captain Smith undertook to find a suitable place for it, but after wandering up and down, for some distance he came back with the disappointing information that the banks were too steep and slippery to permit of our attempting to bathe; so Mrs. Smith and I had to content ourselves for the fourth time with a morning wash in a tin pannikin.

Breakfast ended, we packed and mounted, and rode towards Papakura, the scene of our first experience of the discomforts of bush travelling, as well as the scene of the bad behaviour of Captain Smith's pack-horse. While this animal was being caught and loaded up, the gentlemen suggested that we should all be weighed on a machine which stood near us outside the store. Having been so much chaffed about my weight since the Maori described me as a "heavy bundle," I felt rather like going to execution when I mounted the weighing machine. Mrs. Damper weighed 8 stone 8 pounds, while I turned the scale at 8 stone 10 pounds, which, after all, was not so bad, I thought.

As we approached Otahuhu, the Lion, roused by hunger, went in search of his favourite refreshment, buttermilk. He returned shortly afterwards, bringing an invitation to us all from a hospitable farmer and his wife

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to get something to eat and drink at their house, an invitation which we gladly accepted. After partaking of as much good bread and butter, cheese and milk as we wanted, we remounted and continued our journey together for a short distance further towards Auckland. All too soon we came to the spot where the road to Panmure branched off, where we parted from our kind friends. Captain and Mrs. Montressor Smith, to whom I chiefly owed the realisation of one of my cherished day dreams--a tour of the interior, amongst the Maoris --and whose thoughtful kindness and attention to me throughout the journey had helped to make it such a delightful experience.

We were now getting close to Auckland, and while passing Dr. Buchanan's house at Clovernook we met him. when he gave me the rather disconcerting news that Humphrey and Emma were away on an expedition into the kauri forest country, and that I should find an empty house on reaching St. George's Bay. I felt very much disappointed, for I was anticipating the pleasure of telling them all my experiences when they were quite fresh, and my mind full of them. But I comforted myself with the thought that I should have all my English letters to console me. This, however, soon proved to be a delusive expectation, for the Kingdons, who were the next people we met, gave me the stunning piece of information that my brother, thinking I should be some time longer away in the Waikato, had sent my letters there. So I had to bear my double disappointment as well as I could.

I met with much sympathy from my maid, Pemberton, who was at the door to greet me, on reaching home. She

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was rather relieved to find that she was not the first to give me bad news, and did what she could to lessen the disappointments of my home-coming. With her assistance I was soon revelling in the comfort of a nice hot bath, and when dressed in clean clothes and seated at a comfortable tea-table in our own drawing room, I was forced to confess that town life possessed many advantages over bush life, in spite of its numerous attractions.

Alone in the house I greatly missed the merry companionship of my late fellow travellers, and finished the day thinking of all their kindness to me during the happy visit to Waikato, now come to an end.

A REFLECTION

How little any of us dreamed, as we passed through the "Ten Mile Bush" that in less than five years hundreds of British soldiers would be employed under my brother Humphrey, making a military road through it, and that the peaceful waters of the Waikato would be covered with boats carrying troops and military stores into the interior; that the Mission Station would be deserted, and the school we had watched with such interest broken up and dispersed, and all the kindly Maori people driven out of their homes into the upper regions of the Waikato.

1   Alexander Shepherd, Colonial Treasurer 1842-1856, and therefore a fellow public official.
2   This would be at no great distance from Dr. Maunsell's mission station, at which her future husband, James West Stack, was then an assistant.
3   Stack, in the previous volumes of the series, of which this is the third, refers to the prolific peach groves of the early days. According to Mr. H. M. Crispe, Mauku, peach trees were attacked by a blight about the close of the nineteenth century, practically blotting them out of existence. "Even now," says Mr. Crispe, "it seems impossible to grow peaches if spraying is neglected." From this, it is easily understood why there are no semi-wild groves of luscious peaches to be found to-day, in the neighbourhood of the native settlements.
4   Catherine Crowe (1800?-1876). Though now forgotten, the Dict. Nat. Biog. refers to her Night Side of Nature (published 1848) as "one of the best collections of supernatural stories in our language, the energy of the authoress's own belief lending animation to her narrative."
5   Presumably James Armitage, a magistrate who, one spring morning five years later, left his home in a canoe bound for the Waikato Heads. While about to land at Camerontown, en route, he was shot and tomahawked by ambushed Maoris, two other white men sharing his fate. (See Robert Maunsell, LL.D., Henry Wily and Herbert Maunsell, 1938. Tales of the Maori War, by E. T. Frost, in Wanderlust magazine, May, 1930.)
6   See the previous volume. More Maoriland Adventures of J. W. Stack, for further references to the Ashwells. See also pp. 253-261 of James Cowan's Tales of the Maori Bush for a stirring incident in Ashwell's career.
7   Livingstone's Missionary Travels had been published the previous year.
8   See Savage Life and Scenes in Australia and Mew Zealand. G. F. Angas. Vol. 2, Chapter I.
9   An Appendix to Early Maoriland Adventures of J. W. Stack contains some interesting notes by Stack on the manufacture of greenstone by the Maoris into weapons, tools, etc.

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