1842 - Wade, William A Journey in the Northern Island of New Zealand - Chapter III: From Pakanai to Moeatoa

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CHAPTER III.

From Pakanai to Moeatoa.

Mr. Whiteley having kindly furnished me with two natives, in addition to one supplied by Mr. Turner, I left Pakanai on the morning of the 1lth of January, being now on foot with my companions. Our road lay principally along the river on the southern side,, till we came to the pilot's house; where we took leave of the Hokianga, to travel over hills covered with verdure. The hills on the north side of the river, and which form the north head, are covered with white sand, and except here and there, are entirely destitute of vegetation. Pebbles of white and red cornelian are found in this sandy district.

The hilly country that we now traversed afforded but little to interest, till we came in sight of Maunganui, 1 (great mountain,) and found ourselves on the

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REMARKABLE STRATUM.

open sea-beach on the western side of the Island. Here we had to cross two inconsiderable streams, which a little broke the monotony of sandy cliffs and hills, skirting the fine sandy beach which extends nearly to Maunganui. Approaching Maunganui, you come to a denuded stratum of partly fossilized vegetable matter, at the base of sand cliffs, of a hundred or a hundred and fifty feet in height. Paukena first drew my attention to it by saying, "He hurihanga wenua tenei;" meaning, --this is the effect of an earthquake, or of the overturning of the earth. In many parts of the stratum are distinct stems of large trees, some in their original, sound state, others more or less fossilized, and along the line of it there is a continual dropping spring of excellent fresh water. Similar strata are found in other parts, more or less approaching to coal formation. Perfect coal is found in the southern Island, and has been used by settlers for some years past. It is also found in the northern Island. I have a specimen from Oruru.

Near Maunganui we quitted the beach, and turning inland, over sandy hills, proceeded a short distance in a wild mountainous country, and after sunset brought up for the night in a retired spot not far from the foot of the mountain.

The next morning we were stirring early, and were able to get breakfast and start by six o'clock. After passing through a copse of no great extent, we began to ascend the mountain; and, toiling for an hour up a steep path, sometimes opening an extensive view towards the ocean, but chiefly winding through a

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THE KAIPARA DISTRICT.

thick wood, we found ourselves on the top of Maun-ganui, which appears to form part of a high ridge extending some distance inland, and, on the side towards the sea, terminating in a lofty bluff, washed by the waters of the Pacific ocean. By half-past eight we were clear through the wood, and rested in open fern country. Another hour brought us to Te Ngoiera, a rivulet on the banks of which we stopped for refreshment. We now opened upon the rich kauri forests which skirt the Kaipara district, in which the Kauri grows, not, as more northerly, a few here and there, among the miscellaneous vegetation of the native forests; but in grand masses, claiming sole possession of large portions of country, and enriching the landscape with its lovely green.

Again we entered a wood, and in the course of our journey through it had to cross the Kaihu river six or seven times, sometimes wading knee deep. So very intricate are the windings of some of the rivers, that in one journey the same stream has been crossed thirty or forty times. In returning from Wangaroa to the Kerikeri with one of the Missionaries, my journal records, that we took the road through Kukuparere, to avoid the very frequent crossings of the river, which, nevertheless, we had to pass through seven or eight times. In the wood, we met a party of Waikato natives on their way to Mangungu, who greeted us in a most friendly manner, and stopped for a few moments' conversation.

While we were travelling through the wood, the fruit of the Kohutuhutu, (fuchsia excorticata,) served as an agreeable refreshment. The berry is black;

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KARAKA. ----TUPAKIHI.

of rather insipid, but not unpleasant flavour; perhaps more grateful to a European palate than any other indigenous fruits, of which there are very few eaten by the natives.

One of the principal edible fruits is, the berry of the Karaka, (corynocarpus laevigata,) a beautiful laurel-like ever-green. The fruit is somewhat in appearance like a small egg-plum, and its pulpy or fleshy part may be freely eaten with impunity; but the kernel of a nut which it contains, if eaten raw, produces dreadful contortions of the limbs. Boiling entirely counteracts the injurious effects. The cooked kernel, the taste of which is nauseous to a European, is much sought after by the natives.

The Tupakihi, (coriaria sarmentosa,) produces clusters of small dark berries, the expressed unfermented juice of which is called tutu, and drank with avidity. The berries of the size and colour of elder-berries, and hanging in long branches, are squeezed by hands none of the cleanest, and the juice, of the rich colour of elder wine, is usually collected in the half of a large calabash, the seeds being carefully rejected. No undue excitement is produced by drinking this harmless wine, but the berries, eaten with the seeds, are of a poisonous nature, producing a degree of intoxication approaching to raving madness. I knew a case of a white man who had imprudently eaten tupakihi berries, who was obliged to be held by three or four strong natives till the violence of the fit was over. Tupakihi bushes are found in abundance in rich land, growing among the high fern. The leaves are a favourite food with cattle; and, if in a district

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TI. --KAWAKAWA.

where there is no abundance of grass as a corrective, the consequences of eating too freely are precisely the same as those which often follow the feeding too eagerly on rank young clover: the belly swells, suffocation ensues, and, without timely aid, death is frequently the result. The height of the tupakihi, as generally seen, seldom exceeds seven or eight feet, but this must be owing to the frequent fern fires constantly keeping the growth down; for I saw at Coromandel harbour, a tupakihi tree with a trunk as large in circumference as a man's body.

One species of the Ti, (cordyline Australis,) which somewhat resembles the grass tree of New South Wales, is planted out and cultivated by the Waikato natives for the sake of the root, which furnishes a saccharine matter, and is called mauku. The young seedlings are carefully selected; though but little care is taken in planting them out, and the following year the root is fit for use. It is dug up, and stacked in small piles, to dry in the sun. The filaments are burned away by making a fire under the pile, and the roots are then left for some days for further drying. When sufficiently dry, the roots are scraped and put into the hangi, or native oven, to remain from twelve to eighteen hours, when the preparation of the mauku is completed. It is either chewed by the natives to extract the saccharine matter, or it is pounded, washed and squeezed, so as to separate the fibre, and in this state it is used as a sweetener with the kaanga pirau, (putrid maize,) or with baked fern root.

The natives chew the ripe fruit of the Kawakawa*,(piper excelsum,)--the pepper of New Zealand.

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TITOKI. --KAIHU VILLAGE.

Paukena brought me for examination some berries of the Titoki, (alectryon excelsum). The exterior of the fruit is a brown husk, having the appearance of a small nut, which husk is, however, cast spontaneously, laying bare a black, hard, shining berry, resembling a bead, and attached to a pulpy substance of raspberry form, but of a brilliant scarlet colour. An oil expressed from the berry is used by the natives to anoint their heads. This oil is but little used now that the natives can obtain abundance of whale or shark oil, and pork fat. Formerly the fat of the native rat, noted for fatness, and the oil of the titoki berry, were their only unguents.

In the evening we reached the village of Kaihu, and found Parore, the principal chief, sitting in his house. At first he received me very coolly, and appeared reserved: but soon became more sociable; and while the lads were getting the tent ready, he conducted me to Paora's (Paul's) harvest field. Paul had been busy the whole day cutting his wheat, and I found him and his people engaged ricking and housing it. His field of wheat surprised me, as I did not expect to find in this part, so great an advance towards civilization.

Returning to the village, I found my tent pitched not far from the low rush building used as a chapel; and in which I would have met the natives, but was warned not to enter on account of the fleas. It is usual to ring a bell, or sound a substitute for one, to call the people together to prayers. Sometimes a suspended axe or hoe, struck with a stick or stone, answers the purpose; one party that I used to visit.

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AT KAIHU.

had a bent gun barrel hung up for a bell. The chiefs, however, like to have a proper bell, and, if I recollect right, we had one at Kaihu. About forty natives assembled in front of the tent, and very attentively listened while I addressed them.

Although I rose at five the next morning, the natives had met for prayers among themselves, before I left my tent, They generally retire to rest early at night, and rise with daylight in the morning; but in days of excitement, or to chat over news, they will sit round their fire a good part of the night. During the day they often spend much time in sleep and soon acquire, when resident with white men, the habit of later rising.

When ready to leave them, cloak in hand, I ventured to go near the front of the chapel to look in. A moment's standing in the spot was quite enough) The hopping hosts could be distinctly heard among the dry rushes and litter which strewed the ground. My light trowsers were literally covered; and Paukena to whom I had turned over my cloak to clear it, significantly said on bringing it back, "Tenei ano tou kete puruhi;"--Here is your basket of fleas.

The land in the immediate neighbourhood of the Kaihu village is level and exceedingly rich; admirably adapted for cultivation. Further on, the scene changes to barren hills and swamps, with here and there a patch of wooded land, and some kauri. In travelling through New Zealand, you must often encounter swamps of greater or less extent, covered with raupo, or korari.

The Raupo, (typha angustifolia,) the bulrush of

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RAUPO. --KORARI.

New Zealand, always grows in swampy ground. The leaves, or blades, when full grown, are cut and laid out to dry, forming the common building material with which most native houses are covered. A framework being erected of posts and poles, crossed at right angles and tied together with the split leaves of the flax plant, (called, in this state, harakeke,) the raupo is then gathered up in small bundles, and fastened to the frame by strong harakeke ties; one bundle of raupo being placed as close as possible by the side of another. When the sides of the house are thus closed in, and a layer or two of raupo has been fastened on to the rafters, the roof is usually completed with a thick covering of wiwi, (a small rush,) and the sides receive a second coating of raupo; sometimes one of wiwi above all. In raupo swamps, there is always a ferruginous deposit: and the water, especially in dry seasons, is strongly chalybeate. The natives collect the yellow farina of the bulrush, form it into a cake, and eat it.

The Korari, (phormium tenax) or New Zealand flax, is now well known as one of the most valuable natural productions of the Island. It is often planted by the natives in small quantities, in dry rich soil, near their villages, where it is exceedingly convenient for use in a green state, for making the baskets out of which the natives eat their cooked food, or as small cordage for any and every purpose. Thus planted, the korari assumes a much finer appearance, being of larger growth, and the leaves greener than in its native swamps; but the fibre of these handsome plants is never used as flax, being destitute of those

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KORARI, OR THE FLAX PLANT.

qualities which render the phormium tenax valuable as an article of commerce. The flax is invariably procured from the korari swamps, some of which are very extensive. There is one between the Thames and Matamata, and another to the east of Maketu, in the Bay of Plenty, covering many square miles. The native mode of preparing the flax for use is, by scraping with shells, so as to leave the fibre clear. This is usually performed by women, and no method has yet been found superior to it; no attempt at rapid preparation producing so serviceable an article. The flax machines tried at Tauranga proved an entire failure. Of late years the flax trade has been declining; but now that the great Korari swamps are coming into the hands of Europeans, the discoveries and improvements of science will be made to bear on the preparation of the material on the spot, and there is every reason to believe that the flax trade will again revive, and become a source of inexhaustible wealth to the Island. Apart from its being an article of lucrative barter, the flax plant is of singular utility to the natives: garments, baskets, floor-mats, boat-sails, fishing-lines and nets, are made from it; and, as a tie, it serves the place of nails, both in houses and canoes. We stopped by the Waimata river for an early dinner; and again moving onward over hills skirted by woods, with a sprinkle of kauri, we came to open country, with the Wairoa and Kaipara rivers in the distance. A little more exertion over the hills brought us to the Wairoa, and opened a splendid prospect before us. The broad river sweeping in bold and elegant curves through forests of kauri, mingled with

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NATIVE CANOES.

a variety of other native trees, formed a landscape which brought English scenery to mind.

My intention now was to visit a Wesleyan Mission settlement, near Aotahi, about thirty miles up the river; but, on account of the ebb-tide, we had to wait some hours at Te Warau, where we procured a canoe. Thinking to save time by starting a little before the turn of tide, we left at half-past six, in a very uncomfortable canoe, which turned over to one side or the other, if we only made the least move.

There is a great difference in the canoes of different tribes. The simplest form of canoe is a solid tree, hollowed out into the required form, chiefly with adzes. This is called tiwai. In former days adzes of basalt or green jade were used for the purpose; but now that iron tools abound, if a carpenter's adze cannot be obtained, a plane-iron fixed into a handle, adze fashion, answers the purpose. To build a canoe of larger dimensions, thick planks or bulwarks, of the required height, are added on to the tiwai by secure ties, a band of flexible wood being fastened. over the seam. The band blackened, and ornamented with snow-white albatross or gannet feathers, and a carved head and stern added to the canoe, which is stained all over with red ochre, completes a war vessel. A single war canoe will sometimes carry from eighty to a hundred men. The natives row with short paddles, and one of the party, called the kaituke, generally stands up in the middle, to excite to quick motion and time keeping, by his animated song.

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THE ROWER'S SONG.

In boating with the natives, who can pull a long oar desperately for a while, and will then slacken off to little more than just dipping the oar in the water, I have often found an advantage in getting a sharp lively fellow to tuke. His extemporaneous song will consist of such matters as arise from the circumstances or feelings of the moment: grumblings for want of food, --complaints of small payment, --remarks on the pakehas, (white men or foreigners,) in the boat, --rejoicing that soon there will be plenty to eat, --with occasional phrases and short sentences addressed to the rowers, bidding them to be strong, to let the oars dip deep, to pull all together, &c. But whatever be the burden of the song it admirably answers the purpose of keeping them in time and tune, and of speeding the boat on its way.

So little progress did we make up the Wairoa, by an hour's hard pulling, that we were glad to put ashore near the dwelling of a sawyer, who furnished us with supper and shelter till the turn of tide. It was nine o'clock before we were again moving. The night was dark, the river excessively winding, and the lads not much inclined to pull; so that we did not reach the station until two o'clock on the following (Sunday) morning. At this unseasonable hour I thought it would be better to get the tent up, and rest till day-light; but the lads were beforehand with me, having run up to the house and aroused the family. Mr. Wallis received me with the greatest kindness, and glad enough I was to get speedily into a comfortable bed.

Being Sunday morning, I took but a short rest;

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STATION NEAR AOTAHI.

and at Mr. Wallis's request, met the natives for morning service. About thirty or forty assembled in a native-built house, used as a kitchen and store. The Wesleyans had then but recently adopted this spot as a Mission settlement; however, a good piece of ground had been cleared, and a weather-boarded Mission house put up. This part of the Wairoa river, as indeed nearly the whole of its course from Te Warau, is wooded to the water's edge; and no small labour is required to clear it; yet Mr. Wallis had not only a garden, but a good crop of wheat ready for the sickle.

The beauty of the river, near Aotahi, is sullied by its muddy bottom, which keeps the water always in a turbid state, and the mud banks leave but few places where you can conveniently land.

Had Mr. and Mrs. Wallis been my own brother and sister, they could not have treated me with greater attention and kindness; and when I left them I was not only furnished with an addition to my supply of provisions, but with a boat, manned by an Australian and five natives, to pass me on to Manukau.

Hoping to secure the whole of one ebb-tide for making a stretch down the river, I was up at half-past four; but the provoking natives by their dilatoriness detained us till near six.

A stranger would be astonished at the cool indifference of the natives, even in cases of emergency. Going up the Waitangi river in Mr. Busby's boat, to see the Haruru fall, we grounded on a low reef in the middle of the river, and the swell setting in strongly from sea-ward, we were placed in a situation,

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PROVOKING INDIFFERENCE

to require prompt righting of the boat and shoving her off; instead of which the fellows most provokingly waited carefully to tuck up or take off their trowsers, to save wetting them; regardless of the risk we ran of being swamped.

It is common with natives in your employment, when told to do a thing immediately, to answer, "Taihoa." This word has been translated, By-and-by; but in truth, it has all the latitude of directly, --presently, --by-and-by, --a long time hence, --and nobody knows when. You perhaps have an engagement for the afternoon, and are in haste for dinner; you know that everything is ready, and call the girl to bring it in; but the deliberate reply is, "Taihoa;" and how long you may have to wait who can tell? Just the same if bread is burning in the oven, and you bid them take it out, "Taihoa." In fact this patience-trying word meets you at every turn.

The most glaring instance I ever met with of total unconcern as to consequences of delay, was in the sending of our Mission boat "Kahawai" from the Bay of Islands to Tauranga. As the boat was needed for the Tauranga station, and some natives from the southward were at the Bay of Islands, wishing for an opportunity of returning, but having no canoe, we entrusted Kahawai to their care. The distance they had to go, making allowance for the indentations of coast, was rather more than 200 miles, it might even be 25O or 300. It was five weeks after the boat left the Bay, that we, at Tauranga, were first informed that she had started; and, nothing having been heard of her, we felt great apprehensions that Kahawai and

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AND DILATORINESS.

crew were irrecoverably lost. These apprehensions appeared to be fully realized when, nearly a month afterwards, we heard from some of our people that pieces of broken board, and an old native blanket, had been picked up at Katikati, supposed to be from the wreck of our boat. And now Mr. Chapman, at Rotorua, began to be much annoyed by the natives, on account of the loss of the chief Waretutu, to whom the boat had been given in charge. Six weeks more passed on, and kahawai had ceased to be talked or thought of, when, to our no small astonishment, she suddenly made her appearance close to the Papa station, with Waretutu and all the natives, twenty in number, perfectly safe; after spending nearly as much time in going over two or three hundred miles as it would have taken for an ordinary vessel to make a good voyage to England. Their only excuse was, --sometimes detained by the weather, and sometimes waiting for three canoes which they fell in with, and had in company: though, in fact, they had no business to linger for any canoes to the detention of our boat, the hindrance of our work, and the annoyance of our friend at Rotorua. As there had been plenty of fair wind and weather, they had doubtless comfortably passed the time here and there ashore, just suiting their own convenience or pleasure.

Our row down the Wairoa river was most delightful. The scene was constantly shifting, the river here being so remarkably tortuous that hills, which we had left a long way behind, appeared again and again as if close before us. We made Te Warau about ten o'clock A.M., and put in, to wait for the next tide,

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PROGRESS DOWN THE WAIROA

At four p. m. we again took to our boat, to go as far down the river as the ebb-tide would carry us. The river below Te Warau considerably widens; still continuing a serpentine course, only that the turns become more bold, and less frequent. We pulled up for the night at Te Akeake, just beyond a rocky hill, whose prominent and singular peak forms a conspicuous landmark.

Te Akeake is a place of call for natives who go down the river fishing. We found a few on the spot with Waiata their chief, and took up our abode with them. I made an excellent supper on fish, cooked in the native oven, i. e. in a hole underground, in which stones are first made red hot, then taken out, and again returned along with the food intended to be cooked, and the whole covered in with fresh leaves, earth, &c, till the food is done. After supper the natives gathered round the shed in which we were sitting, for evening prayers. Another native shed, entirely open on one side, served for a sleeping apartment, a wood fire in the centre separating me from a man and his wife who occupied the other end.

The next morning we were too late in starting to secure much of the ebb-tide, and were under the necessity of putting in at Tiaho, a place abounding with fleas. Here, ascending a very steep cliff, we had an extensive view of the majestic river. At two P.M., we were again afloat, going down with the tide.

The broad sheet of water, which we had to cross as we neared the heads, is formed by the conflux of four

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AND CROSSING TO THE KAIPARA.

rivers, --the Wairoa, the Kotamatea, the Oruawaru, and the Kaipara. Of these the Wairoa is by far the most considerable, its source being on the eastern side of the Island, at no great distance from the Bay of Islands; but the Kaipara gives the general name to the whole district. In consequence of the strong currents from the rivers, and the strength of the tide near the heads, it is frequently dangerous for canoes, or even for boats to cross. A fair breeze springing up, our passage across was most favourable; though the tide and a strong current were against us, causing at the mouth of the Kaipara a short quick bubble, like the boiling of a caldron. Vessels of two or three hundred tons burthen may find deep water and secure anchorage in the harbour; but the passage up the Wairoa is rendered dangerous for any but small craft by a concealed sand-spit dividing the deep water into two or three narrow and intricate channels; so that several vessels have been lost. The population along the Wairoa; that is, of tribes permanently residing close upon the river, is very scanty. The distance from Aotahi to the heads, on account of the windings of the river, must be a hundred and twenty miles. My companion, who appeared to know the natives well, could not reckon more than an average of a man to a mile.

With regard to the native population in the northern Island, there have appeared various conflicting statements, both as to numbers, and causes of depopulation. The impossibility of obtaining a well authenticated census renders it difficult to arrive at any thing like accuracy: and the different motives by

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POPULATION AND DEPOPULATION.

which the natives are induced cither to give an exaggerated or diminished statement of the numbers of their respective tribes, increases the difficulty. The evidence on the population question, given before a select committee of the House of Lords is curiously contradictory. Thus the number of natives is variously stated to be "Immense."--"Five natives to three square miles,"--"A million,"--"Five hundred thousand,"--"A hundred and fifty thousand,"--"A hundred and thirty thousand,"--"A hundred and six thousand,"--"A hundred and five thousand." Of these, perhaps 150,000 may be most correct; but until the local government is in a position to take an accurate census, all calculations must of course be more or less conjectural.

Of the rapid depopulation of the country during the last half century there appears no good reason to doubt; but on this also there are contending opinions. Dr. Forster, in Capt. Cook's time, estimated the population at a hundred thousand; but he could have had no possible means of ascertaining the amount, and must have been far below the mark. The observation of the late British Resident, during his five years official residence in the Island, led him to the conclusion that the native tribes with which he had had intercourse, had decreased in number from one-fourth to one-third, at the most moderate calculation. The disappearance of whole tribes within the memory of natives now living, and the ravages of Hongi's wars within the knowledge of the Missionaries, seem to give proof that war has done its part in materially thinning the aboriginal population. Nor can there be any

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INFANTICIDE.

question as to the extensive practice of infanticide. We at the northern part of the island knew but little of it, partly from the horrible practice being subdued by Missionary influence, and partly from the more civilized natives having strong inducements to conceal crime; but a letter which I have by me from an observing Missionary, shews the prevalence of infanticide, so recently as 1837, and that too very near the spot now occupied as head quarters by the Colonial Government. He says, "The crime of infanticide is horrible in its extent, although they conceal it as much as possible from us. My wife has been the instrument of preventing many infants being destroyed, by promising the mother a garment for the babe when born. One woman alone had destroyed four of her helpless progeny. When asked why they do so, some say, That they may not be troubled with rearing them; others, That they may be disencumbered in case they {have to flee." The modern reservation of female children by new Zealand mothers, whose only thought in saving them is the future profit of prostitution, has been lightly, nay, favourably spoken of by immoral pretenders to philanthropy who have given evidence on the subject. The illicit intercourse of seamen and white settlers with native women, especially in the Bay of Islands, even before the colonization of the country, is too well known to need a comment. But the extent to which that intercourse has been carried on, would scarcely be credited. A vessel in the Bay of Islands, on being visited, has presented the disgusting spectacle of every seaman on board appearing to lay claim to more girls than one; and in the Bay of

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OTHER CAUSES OF DEPOPULATION.

Plenty, though less frequented by shipping, there was a lamentable extent of imported crime. Haying occasion, when we were at Tauranga, to seek after a female domestic at the principal pa (Otumoetai), I applied to Hamuera, a well known native, who had formerly resided with the Missionaries at Paihia. He pointed to a girl scarcely more than ten or eleven years old, and assured me that there was not one of that age or upwards in the pa, who had not visited vessels in the harbour for purposes of prostitution. But, although it follows that infanticide decreases, as unnatural mothers refrain from one crime to rear their female offspring for the habitual practice of another, it by no means follows that the aboriginal population is proportionably saved from diminution; for it is well known that the natives suffer grievously by the introduction of disease consequent upon crime.

Checks upon increase of population are also to be found in the domestic habits of the people. The women, destitute of the comforts of civilized life, often compelled to carry heavy burdens and to do the principal work, and having but a scanty portion of nutritious food, debilitate their constitutions by continuing to suckle their children even till two or three years old. So that it is not very common for a native woman to rear a large family; while polygamy, concubinage, and slavery, all contribute their share in preventing the natural increase of the domestic circle. It must not be attributed to the climate, but to hard fare, laborious work, and injurious habits, that the females pass almost at once from the sunny days of youth to the shades of approaching age. A child who

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DESERTED PAS.

lived with us as nurse was lost sight of by our removal to another part of the Island; but after three or four years she appeared again in the character of a haggard married woman. Then, there are consumption and scrophula fearfully cutting off the people. Many a fine young man has wasted and declined from the effects of long continued scrophulous ulcers, which in some cases under European treatment, have baffled every attempt at cure.

It is melancholy to see the immense number of vacated pas in every direction. Not far from the Waimate I have counted five distinct sites of old pas, on the hill tops close around me. But it has been justly said that vacated pas by no means indicate the actual extent of depopulation, as the New Zealanders are a migratory people. It is true indeed that tribes do frequently migrate, sometimes abandoning their pas from very trivial causes. Thus, a few years ago, a large tribe removed bodily to Manukau, from the Horo, a pa on the banks of the Waikato river. But these removals are certainly not sufficient to account for the numbers of deserted pas, of some of which the natives can relate horrible tales of massacre and bloodshed. So that the evidence of deserted pas, as to decrease of population, must not be wholly set aside.

War, infanticide, licentiousness, neglect and disease, have all, in turn, wrought the ruin of the intelligent and able-bodied race of men found in New Zealand. How far they will now form an exception to the many deplorable instances of an aboriginal population dwindling away before the face of civilized

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THE KAIPARA RIVER.

innovators, it will not take many years to determine, The constitutional change effected in the people by a sudden transition of habits, --their universal carelessness with regard to health, with their stupid unwillingness to use proper means for maintaining it, --the covetousness, and aversion to persevering labour which so generally mark their character, --and their reckless apathy as to a fair national advancement of themselves, --seem a few among the many indications, that the aboriginal race of New Zealanders will ultimately become extinct; or be so merged in the immigrating population as to lose almost all characteristics of their being a distinct people.

After we had gone a short distance up the Kaipara river, the breeze which had favoured us slacked off, and the tide and strong current being against us, we made but slow progress, till we roused the lads, who were nearly all asleep at the bottom of the boat. Though they now pulled lustily, and the tide soon turned in our favour, we did not reach our landing place, up a narrow branch of the river, till past two o'clock in the morning; when we were glad enough to set foot on shore, and to set light to a cheering fire. Then followed refreshment, and two or three hours' most needful rest under shelter of a temporary native hut.

At seven o'clock in the morning we were on the move for an overland journey to Manukau, leaving the boat well secured in the little creek till my companion's return. As our path lay along high ground, we could see the Kaipara river, now an insignificant stream, pursuing its complicated windings along the

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MANUKA OR KAHIKATOA.

plain beneath us, its general course lying almost parallel with the western coast of the Island. We were now travelling over short easy hills; the white clayey soil, with lumps of kauri resin embedded in it, bearing evident marks of having formerly been covered with a kauri forest; old stumps and roots here and there appearing. The land for the most part was covered with stunted Manuka.

The Manuka, or, as it is called in the northern part of the Island, Kahikatoa, (leptospernum scoparium,) is a myrtaceous plant, known in Van Diemen's Land as the tea tree, and common also to New South Wales. The parts of New Zealand covered with it are generally the most sterile. It has an agreeable fragrance, whether green or burned, and a decoction of its dried leaves has frequently been used by European settlers as a substitute for tea. Out of the hard wood of the manuka, the stem of which, in the woods, grows to a foot diameter, the natives form their spears, war-clubs, adze-handles, paddles, &c.

Our course lay nearly parallel to the western coast, varying from a mile and a half to four or five miles distance from the ocean; while at the same time we could see Waitamata on the east, apparently not far from us. Occasionally we had to pass through narrow lines of kauri wood, which crossed our path. The kauri here appeared of a much less aspiring growth than in a more northern latitude. The short swamps which came in our way were not serious impediments, and on the whole, we found the road from Kaipara to Manukau easy travelling. At Waikoko

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FACILITY OF WATER CARRIAGE.

we rested for two hours, and in three hours and a half more, our course lying S.S.E., we had the Great Barrier Island on the east, and the sand hills of the western coast visible at the same time. The breadth of the Island here does not appear to be more than sixteen or seventeen miles. After another long stay, our lads detaining us by not coming up, we reached Kopupaka at dusk, and taking shelter for the night under a native shed, our rest was sadly broken by the tormenting fleas and musquitoes.

Hearing, on the following day, that there were no natives at the place to which we were bending our steps, it became necessary to change our course more to the eastward. I was on ahead, with two or three of the lads, when some of the hindermost ones struck off into a path to the left, and were proceeding on before we were aware of it. We had therefore to beat our way through the bush, which proved excessively fatiguing, and completely wore out my upper leathers. We now had Manukau in sight, and soon arrived at the road over which the natives drag their canoes.

There is a remarkable facility of water conveyance in this part of the Island. With perfect ease canoes can be dragged over the short distances between one river and another; so that the tribes of the Thames on the east coast can pass over to Manukau on the west, and thence on to Waikato. From Waitamata, in the Thames, canoes are brought to Manukau over the dragging-place on which we were travelling. Crossing Manukau harbour, they pass up a river or creek, which brings them within so short a distance

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CANOE PADDLES. ----MANUKAU.

of the Awaroa, a branch of the Waikato river, that another easy drag puts them in a position either to go out to sea by Waikato heads, or to paddle on beyond Mangapouri, upwards of a hundred miles up the river.

As we approached Manukau, which has the appearance of a large lake, we observed two canoes lying off the shore, near a place called Waikowai, to which we directly bent our steps, hoping to get a ready passage across. We found at the place only one man, who was not possessed of more than two paddles, and was at first very unwilling to lend us either of the canoes. As he did, however, at last, very reluctantly consent, the lads, while we were getting our dinner and waiting for the tide, felled a young tree or two, and hastily shaped out some paddles, or semblances of paddles, of the roughest description. Certainly our new paddles were very unlike the handsomely carved ones which the natives sometimes turn out of hand for their principal chiefs. Late at night, on a former occasion, falling in with a canoe without paddles, as our only conveyance, we were compelled to make a long tedious pull with our tent-poles, which kept us from home till past midnight.

Tide suiting, we were able to push off at three o'clock P.M. Manukau is improperly called a river, being, in fact, an inland sea or large estuary, with several salt water creeks running from it. A large portion of this sheet of water is exceedingly shallow, in consequence of an immense mud-flat; so that, except at high water and in fair weather, you can

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CROSSING MANUKAU. --WATAS.

only cross near the heads. The entrance from the sea is narrow, but not difficult, and there are several secure anchorages. One of our natives, acquainted with the place, directed us where he thought we might cross. Accordingly we turned the head of the canoe, and thought ourselves in a fair way for reaching the opposite side; but as we got into the strength of the currents, we found the sea increasing so much upon us, occasioned by a strong wind, that we were compelled quickly to turn about and make for the land. A little village called Waikumete, situated in a small bay, afforded us shelter for the night; and here, determined to avoid the fleas, we pitched our tent upon a Wata.

One of the methods which the New Zealanders adopt for preserving their winter stock of potatoes, maize, or kumaras, is by fixing an open frame-work on strong posts, commonly about six or seven feet high, so as to form a stage of the required dimensions, on which the baskets of food are piled, and a rude covering or thatch put over them. These stages are called watas. Sometimes one thick post supports a wata; but more frequently four, six, or nine posts, according to the size. Sometimes you may see the wata with its load raised aloft among the branches either of a decayed or growing tree. That on which we slept was rather lower than the usual pitch, supported by six strong posts, and admirably answered the purpose of raising us above our back-biting enemies.

Early the next morning we were in the canoe again, and off for the opposite shore, the calmness of the morning favouring us. Three canoes came in sight.

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ABUNDANCE OF FISH.

filled with natives, going, it was said, to dispute the claims of the Thames tribes to a certain fishing ground: but we were not near enough to speak to them. It was between seven and eight o'clock A.M. that we landed on the southern side of Manukau, at Tatangarau, a place visited by the Church Missionaries who were then at Moeatoa. My attention was immediately caught by large quantities of shark, hanging in rows to dry for winter consumption, and polluting the air with its strong perfume.

Their fisheries supply the people who reside near the coast with abundance of provisions; as there are varieties of excellent fish caught on the shores of New Zealand. The pipi, or cockle, and other kindred bivalves, are very plentiful, and universally eaten. These they thread and dry, so as to form a convenient portable breakfast; the long strings of dried pipis, worn as necklaces both by adults and children, being ready to hand for a bite at any time. Eels are very large and fine in some of the lakes, and are also dried. The approach of a party of natives carrying dried fish is extremely offensive.

When we had breakfasted and conversed with one or two of the chiefs, we assembled the natives for morning prayers, and I had an opportunity of addressing them. At ten o'clock we were again on the move. Two hours' pull brought us to the narrows, and another two landed us at Moeatoa, where the Mission friends gave us a most cordial reception.