Further Maoriland Adventures of J. W. and E. Stack

James West Stack and Eliza R. J. Stack

First published by A. H. and A. W. Reed in 1938

Digitised and made available online by the University of Auckland Libraries and Learning Services.

Epub © 2014 Early New Zealand Books Collection

ISBN 978-1-927289-81-5

[TITLE PAGES]

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JAMES WEST STACK
From a hitherto unpublished portrait.
Born at Puriri, Thames, New Zealand, 27th March, 1835. Died at Worthing, Sussex, England, 13th October, 1919.

Further Maoriland Adventures
of J. W. and E. STACK

Edited by
A. H. REED
Author of Marsden of Maoriland

Foreword by
ARCHBISHOP AVERILL
Primate of New Zealand

A. H. and A. W. REED,
DUNEDIN and WELLINGTON
NEW ZEALAND
LONDON: G. T. FOULIS & CO. LTD.

Set up, printed and bound in Australia by Halstead Press Pty Limited, 9-19 Nickson Street. Sydney 1938

First published in 1938

Publishers: A. H. and A. W. Reed, 33 Jetty Street. Dunedin and 182 Wakefield Street. Wellington, New Zealand

London Agents:

G. T. Foulis and Co. Ltd. 7 Milford Lane, Strand

[FOREWORD]

FOREWORD

My knowledge of the Rev. Canon J. W. Stack and his good wife during my early days in Christchurch, and my sincere appreciation of the efforts of Messrs. A. H. and A. W. Reed in publishing the Recollections of these two great missionary-hearted people, makes the writing of a short foreword to the third volume of Canon Stack's Maoriland Adventures both a pleasure and a privilege.

As the third volume deals particularly with Canon Stack's work amongst the Maoris in Canterbury, it will serve as a valuable contribution to the better understanding of the South Island Maoris and the missionary work of the Church amongst them. Much has been written about the work of the Church amongst the Maoris in the North Island, where, of course, the majority of them have always lived, but the wonderful story of the evangelisation of the Maoris cannot be complete without the knowledge which this present volume contains.

Many of us are constantly regretting the fact that so many of our pioneers and early missionaries "pass on" without recording in any tangible way the stories of their self-sacrificing labours and the fruits of their ripe

experience. Modesty, no doubt, is the cause of their silence, but can the present and future generations afford to lose the inspiration of the men and women who laid the foundations of religion and civilization in this country, and were instrumental in training the Maoris to take a worthy part in the social, political and religious life of Maoriland? To-day we can see things in truer perspective, and many things which were commonplace to them are heroic and creative to us.

The present volume, in recording many of the experiences of Mrs. Stack, is particularly valuable, for she was an excellent type of that noble band of missionary wives and workers who played such an important part in the evangelisation of the Maori people. In Pasadena, California, there is a beautiful monument to the brave women of the covered wagon days, and should not New Zealand have its monuments to the noble women of the missionary days? Perhaps the present volume will help its readers to appreciate more fully the debt which New Zealand owes to its brave pioneering women.

A. W. New Zealand.

24 February 1938.

[PREFACE]

PREFACE

The gratifying reception accorded to the earlier volumes of the Stack Manuscripts – Early Maoriland Adventures and More Maoriland Adventures – seems ample warrant for the publication of a third volume. The present instalment contains, in addition to the further recollections of Canon J. W. Stack, a portion of the Journal of his wife, written in 1857-1860, before their marriage. The material selected from Mrs. Stack's (Eliza Jones) Journal has been brought together with the object of giving variety of incident. There still remains in reserve ample material for a fourth volume, should it be called for, including visits to Wellington and Nelson; the Hot Lakes region; a second expedition to the Waikato, where she first met James W. Stack; and some of her experiences in Canterbury, subsequent to her marriage. Awaiting publication are also some interesting occasional papers of J. W. Stack.

As in the case of the preceding volumes of the series, I have received generous help in the editing of this book. To His Grace the Primate of New Zealand – one of the rapidly diminishing band of those who were personally acquainted with the Stacks – my best thanks are due for his Foreword.

Mr. Louis J. Vangioni, whose knowledge of people and places on Banks Peninsula is both extensive and intensive has, amongst other services, contributed some informative footnotes.

To my wife, in this as in preceding volumes, I owe more than words can express; and my nephew and partner, Mr. A. W. Reed, has again rendered invaluable services including, once more, the compilation of an index.

After the publication of More Maoriland Adventures Rev. A. H. Norrie was kind enough to send me a rare, and by me hitherto unknown, lithograph of the Kohanga mission station.

For much information of value and interest relating to Poverty Bay in the fifties, when Miss Jones visited Bishop Williams, I am indebted to Mrs. Douglas Blair, of Gisborne.

It is not possible adequately to acknowledge numerous services freely accorded, but I must at least express my thanks to Mrs. E. J. Wilson, Mr. Henry Wily, Mr. Herbert Maunsell, Mr. James Cowan, Mr. Eric Ramsden, Mr. H. M. Crispe, Mr. J. T. Paul, Mr. Herbert Chapman, Rev. M. A. R. Pratt, Mr. William Paterson, Mr. Johannes Andersen, Rev. A. C. Lawry, Mr. W. J. Cotterill, Mrs. Tiripa Te Hauraraka Pitama, Mr. R. E. Tripe, and the Turnbull Library, for various courtesies, and to Mr. A. W. Taylor, Christchurch, for useful information and photographs.

Two of those from whom I received generous help are no longer with us – Bishop Herbert Williams, the distinguished Maori scholar, and Mr. Horace Fildes,

whose knowledge of early New Zealand may be said to have been encyclopaedic. Both have passed on, and by their passing New Zealand is the poorer.

It would be ungrateful to omit to acknowledge, in this volume as well as in preceding ones, the indebtedness of myself and all readers to Canon Stack's daughters – Mrs. F. Coxon, Mrs. W. E. Scaife and Miss Dorathea Stack – for the preservation of the manuscripts and for facilitating their publication.

A. H. REED.

155 Glen Avenue, Dunedin, N. Z.,

2 May 1938.

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[CONTENTS]

CONTENTS

FOREWORD........v

PREFACE.........vii

INTRODUCTORY...xiii

BOOK I

JAMES WEST STACK'S STORY.....1

BOOK II

MRS. STACK'S JOURNALS OF THE FIFTIES AND SIXTIES....75

ILLUSTRATIONS

JAMES WEST STACK....... Frontispiece

MRS. JAMES WEST STACK...74

THE COLLEGE CHAPEL....208

INTRODUCTORY

JAMES WEST STACK

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[INTRODUCTION]

INTRODUCTORY

JAMES WEST STACK

A somewhat extensive memoir of James West Stack will be found in the first volume of the series (Early Maoriland Adventures) of which this is the third, but it seems desirable to preface this continuation of his Recollections by a brief sketch of his life.

The association of the Stack family with New Zealand goes back to 1823 when James Stack, influenced by Samuel Marsden, joined the Wesleyan Mission at Whangaroa. In January, 1827, the mission station was blotted out of existence by marauding natives, and in that time of peril James Stack bore a man's part. He it was who made a hazardous night journey of twenty miles to Kerikeri, in search of assistance at the Church Mission, which he was later to join.

The subject of this brief memoir was the eldest son of James Stack, and was born at the Maori pa, Puriri, Thames, on 27th March, 1835. His early boyhood was spent on his parents' mission stations, successively at Mangapouri, Te Papa (Tauranga) and the East Cape. When he was about twelve years of age the strain of isolation, and the difficult conditions that had for so long been valiantly faced, caused a complete breakdown in

the father's health. The family removed to Sydney, and after a few months sailed for England.

In 1850 the mother died in London, and James West, resolving to take up in New Zealand the work that his father had been compelled to lay down, entered the Training College of the Church Missionary Society in London. In 1852 he was sent out as assistant to Dr. Robert Maunsell at the Lower Waikato, and there, on the Kohanga mission station, he remained until 1859, when he accepted the appointment of missionary to the Canterbury Maoris.

Early in 1861, after his ordination by Bishop Harper, he went to Auckland, where Bishop Selwyn married him to Miss Jones, whom he had first met during her visit to the Kohanga mission station in 1858. Returning to Canterbury with his wife, they made their headquarters at the Maori pa near Kaiapoi. For many years Stack carried out the duties of his office with singular devotion, and came to be recognised as the leading authority on the South Island Maoris.

In later years he ministered to a European congregation, and at the close of the nineteenth century, after spending about sixty years in New Zealand, mainly living amongst, and ministering to, the Maoris, he and his wife, and an unmarried daughter, went to reside in Italy. In 1907 they removed to England, where they settled for the evening of their life at Worthing. Here it was that he set down, from written records and his own memory, the fascinating story of his eventful life in early New Zealand.

Canon Stack died at Worthing, on 13th October, 1919,

aged eighty-four, and his wife passed to her rest a few weeks later at the age of ninety.

Amongst Stack's published works – apart from these Recollections – are South Island Maoris, The Sacking of Kaiapohia, Kuru, Through Canterbury and Otago with Bishop Harper in 1859-60. He also collaborated with H. C. Jacobson in Tales of Banks Peninsula.

In the immediately preceding volume – More Maoriland Adventures – Stack's autobiography was carried to the close of the year 1860, when he accompanied Bishop Harper on an overland journey across the roadless and unbridged wilds of Canterbury and Otago, to the southernmost limits of the island.

A. H. R.

CHAPTER I. JAMES WEST STACK'S STORY.

BOOK I

JAMES WEST STACK'S STORY

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CHAPTER I

I travel amongst my flock on Banks Peninsula. How the Christchurch artesian water supply was discovered. I find good friends.

When Bishop Harper parted from me in Dunedin in 1860, because being without a horse I could not accompany him back to Christchurch overland, I took passage in a small schooner for Lyttelton. My fellow-passengers were Dr. Buchanan and Dr. Sinclair, the late Colonial Secretary. On arriving at Lyttelton the first news we got was that typhoid fever was very prevalent in the town, and that people were dying daily. One of the victims was the son of our captain. On reaching Christchurch I heard nothing talked about but the prevailing epidemic, and I began to think that Christchurch was going to prove a second Sierra Leone and be known as the "white man's grave."

After paying the natives at Kaiapoi a visit, I decided to go and see the Maoris on Banks Peninsula. 1 Pita Te Hori 2 accompanied me to Little River. It was a long

and wearying journey. After spending some days there, Pita agreed to act as my guide to Port Levy, through the forest and up the hillsides. There was no pretence of a road or track beyond a pig track. How the horses managed to get through the undergrowth and up the mountain side puzzled me – they climbed like cats over the rocky parts of the trail.

The sun had set when we reached the Springs at the top of Mount Sinclair, and began our descent into Port Levy. We proceeded very slowly, owing to obstacles of various kinds, and got benighted in the woods. Pita was very mortified to find that we could not accomplish the journey in the usual time, owing to his inability to see the track. We tied our horses to the trees, and took off the saddles which served as pillows, and tried to go to sleep at the foot of a great forest tree, but the wind through the trees made us shiver with cold. When morning came we were very glad to renew our journey, and soon reached our destination without further mishap.

As I was now familiar with the route between the different Maori villages, I often went alone, carrying my knapsack, and a little food with me in case of accident. What I dreaded most was spraining my foot in some place where no one might pass for weeks, and where I might die of hunger, and be eaten by wild pigs without ever being found. I could not afford to pay anyone to accompany me on these journeys, and Maoris were not always at liberty to leave their work and go with me. Tamate Tikao always made a point of sending someone with me to the next village I went to, from where he

was staying, because he knew it was dangerous to go about the forest-clad hills alone. The range between Little River and Port Levy was nearly three thousand feet high. At first I felt no ill effects from the constant climbing over the Peninsula hills, but after some months my heart troubled me, especially after my return from accompanying the Bishop to Otago. The shaking up my joints and muscles got, from the rough motion of the horse I rode, did me permanent injury, for I never could ride for many hours together after that journey without enduring great pain in my back and shoulders.

I experienced great inconvenience in my walking tours from the great heat and dryness of the air. The hot nor'-westerly winds were unknown to me in the North Island, and are peculiar to Canterbury. Like everyone else I found them very depressing to the spirits. During my first two years in Canterbury – 1859 and 1860 – nor'-westerly winds prevailed and blew incessantly, for months together. As very little rain fell, the ground got quite parched, and all the vegetation became so dry that when a fire broke out anywhere it was impossible to put it out. Fires were burning all over the country, and smoke was to be seen in every direction. It was proved that many of these fires had been caused by smokers throwing down their matches on the dusty roads, which at once caught fire and burned like dry peat. The beautiful forests of Banks Peninsula did not escape and, unfortunately, one of the finest kinds of trees, the totara, which grew everywhere, was the means of spreading and keeping up the conflagration. The totara possesses a

very thick, dry bark, with thin, paper-like scales on its surface, which proved very inflammable. Sparks from a burning tree a quarter of a mile off alighting on this bark caused it quickly to burst into flame.

Early in 1860 Tamate Tikao told me that he was so impressed by something I had said about the duty of caring for the children's education, that he was going to open a school in his own house, and do what he could to teach them, if I would consent to give special instruction in arithmetic, geography, history and English, which I gladly undertook to do. Tamate boarded at his own cost ten of the pupils, whom he had induced parents at a distance to send to him, and for nearly two years carried on the teaching, with my occasional assistance. But when all his stores of food were exhausted, he was obliged to disband the school, but not before many of the pupils had learned to read and write and cypher.

It was during the time I so frequently visited the Peninsula that I made the acquaintance of Mr. Aylmer, 3 the clergyman at Akaroa. He was a fine old Irish gentleman, whom I always enjoyed seeing, and who became one of my most attached friends.

While typhoid fever was carrying off so many people on the plains, the Peninsula people were quite free from the scourge. The fever was said to be caused by the decaying vegetable matter exposed to the air by the

newly upturned soil. Wherever ploughing took place, or drainage, there cases of fever occurred. There was, however, an additional reason in Christchurch for its appearance, owing to the contamination of the drinking water. Every dwelling place possessed a well, few of them being more than six feet deep, which supplied the inmates with drinking water. A few feet away from the well stood a sentry box, and alongside it a pit into which all drainage and refuse from the house was thrown. If the bedroom jugs were filled with water during the day in hot weather, the smell from the water was so offensive by night that no one could stay in the room until it was poured away. The water was contaminated by leakage from the adjacent cesspits.

As the wells were all so shallow, it occurred to someone that, by sinking lower down, purer water might be got. How that was to be done so as to prevent the foul water from filtering through, was the difficulty. It was solved by a happy thought which occurred to the mind of a working plumber, who had a quantity of small gas pipes, about two inches in diameter, for which no use could be found. He commenced driving one of the pipes down into the soil, adding fresh joints as he went down, when, to his joy, he found, at a depth of forty feet, a strong uprush of pure water, which continued to flow from the pipe. This discovery led to the adoption of artesian overflow wells all over the place, and in time helped to rid Christchurch of the typhoid plague.

One of my first Canterbury friends was the Rev.

George Cotterill, 4 who was then Diocesan Secretary. He was the first Christchurch gentleman to call upon me. It was a business call, but before going away he asked me to spend an evening with him at his house on the Ferry road, which I did shortly afterwards, where I made the acquaintance of Mrs. Cotterill and their large family of young children, who were all crowded into a very small house. Both Mr. and Mrs. Cotterill were very kind and sympathetic, and from that first visit to them dates a warm, life-long friendship. As soon as they moved into the house which was then being built f0r them at Christ's College, they expressed a wish that I would stay with them whenever I had to pass through Christchurch. They were always so unmistakably pleased to see me that I thoroughly enjoyed my visits to them. No matter how crowded their house was with their large family and numerous boarder pupils, Mrs. Cotterill always made a corner for me.

I found Mr. Cotterill's conversation intensely interesting, and an intellectual treat after associating with

Maoris, and the class of Europeans one encountered on the roads, whose conversation was anything but instructive. Mr. Cotterill possessed a great fund of humour; but where I derived the greatest benefit from my intercourse with him was by the interchange of thought upon the questions relating to the Christian faith which were being debated with so much angry feeling at the time. As a young man utterly dissatisfied with the way in which the teaching of the Lord Jesus Christ was being presented by the official teachers of Christianity, and knowing that many of the assertions they made had no foundation in fact, I hardly knew what to accept and what to reject of their positive statements which they put forth with so much assurance. It was an intense relief to me to find a man like Mr. Cotterill, who had received the best education an English University could give, and who had been many years in the ministry of the Church, troubled with exactly the same doubts and difficulties as I felt. We were able to talk over the subjects that interested me with perfect frankness, and to seek a solution of our difficulties. Writers who were scouted as infidels and condemned unheard, like Darwin and Huxley and Tyndall, we read and pondered over, being convinced in our own minds that the Book of Nature was as truly a revelation of God as the Bible itself; and that these two Books must be compared one with the other before the truth about Him could be known.

1 The extensive nature of Stack's pastoral journeys may be gathered from his report to the 1860 Synod, where he stated that ten visits had been paid to Kaiapoi, seven to Port Levy, five to Akaroa, nine to Rapaki, and two to Taumutu, besides a "flying visit" to Timaru, Waimatemate and some of the settlements in Otago. (Stack 178, in the Turnbull Library, Wellington).

2 See More Maoriland Adventures.

3 Rev. William Aylmer was the first Protestant clergyman in Akaroa. He left Kildare, Ireland, for New Zealand in 1851. Of a jovial disposition and very popular, he retired after twenty-five years' service, and died in 1883. The site of his homestead of twenty acres is known to-day as Aylmer's Valley, and the house, named Glencarrig after his birthplace, is still standing (L. J. Vangioni and Miss A. F. Rattray).

4 Rev George Cotterill (later Canon Cotterill) was born on 13th July 1814 and died on 30th June, 1902. He was ordained in 1838, in England, where he remained until the founding of the Canterbury settlement, when he came out to New Zealand in one of the first four ships. His first charge was at Lower Heathcote, but in the following year he was summoned to assist the Dean in the College Grammar School, which was already giving promise of a great future. He became second master in 1857 and house master in 1860, relinquishing the position in 1868. Subsequently he became bursar of the College, and was a Fellow up to the time of his death. For twenty-six years he was Diocesan Secretary (1861-1887) and Treasurer to the Cathedral from 1881 to 1880. He received the canonry as far back as 1886. The New Zealand Church News, in reporting his death, described him as a good man, whose reserved disposition held a sympathetic heart, and whose consistency of life left its salutary influence upon his family and the Church. "With Bishop Harper and Dean Jacobs," the same article states, "Canon Cotterill represented the cultivated, conservative and sound divines who so well and truly laid the foundation of the English Church in this colony." He died in 1902 in his eighty-seventh year. (This biographical note has been supplied by his son, Mr. W. J. Cotterill, to whom James West Stack was a godfather.)

CHAPTER II. JAMES WEST STACK'S STORY.

CHAPTER II

I am ordained by Bishop Harper, and set out for Auckland to meet my bride. Arrived at Taranaki, I find myself in the war zone.

I resumed my visits to Kaiapoi and Banks Peninsula, and it was while staying with the Maoris at the former place that I made up my mind to write and ask Miss Jones to be my wife. I got a letter from a friend in Auckland telling me she was about to return to England with the Montressor Smiths, 5 and that caused me to take action at once, rather than wait until after my ordination, which was my original intention. I penned my letter from Ihaia's house on the Cam, wondering greatly how Miss Jones would receive it. I knew that it would be many weeks before I could get an answer, as the postal arrangements were very defective. 6

I paid a visit to Banks Peninsula. A month passed by, and then six weeks, and no letter came. I began to fear the worst when, to my joy, I received a letter which, though kindly worded, did not contain a decisive answer. But it made me hopeful, and I wrote again. A few weeks afterwards I was rejoiced to get a letter accepting

my proposal, and also one from Commissary-General Jones congratulating me upon having won a prize in the lottery of life.

One of the first results of the announcement of our engagement was the receipt of an invitation from Mrs. Gresson, the Judge's wife, to an evening to meet Mr. Henry Tancred, who had just arrived from Auckland, and who was the bearer of a parcel to me from my fiancee. Mr. Tancred was then Postmaster-General, and our meeting at Mrs. Gresson's was the beginning of a warm, life-long friendship. The parcel he brought contained the surplice and bands which I wore on the day of my ordination by Bishop Harper, at Trinity Church, Lyttelton, on Sunday, 23rd December, 1860.

I left for the north at the first opportunity. While crossing from Wellington to Nelson, a stout, good-natured gentleman came up and introduced himself to me. He was Mr. Justice Johnston, 7 of Wellington, a friend of Miss Jones, and he gave a warm invitation to us both to stay at his home on our way back from Auckland to Canterbury.

On landing at Nelson I went to pay my respects to Bishop Hobhouse, who received me most cordially, though I had never seen him before. He introduced me to Mrs. Hobhouse, and to Dr. Codrington, who had just arrived from England to join the Melanesian Mission. From Nelson I went on to Taranaki, where Commis-

sary-General Jones 8 came on board to meet me and take me on shore to his quarters. The day was very fine, but, notwithstanding, the landing in the great surf-boats proved an exciting experience. Immediately on landing I became aware that I was within the war zone. Sentries were pacing backwards and forwards along the sea-front of the town, which was surrounded with a strong stockade, and we were challenged on entering the gateway. Humphrey Jones's quarters were in a mill, where he had secured a room for me, and where I was waited upon by his servant Douglas, who was particularly attentive. We had our meals at the mess, a building outside the town, a few hundred yards away.

Amongst the officers whom I met there I was surprised to find my old friend, the Rev. James A. Wilson, who was acting as chaplain to the troops. He was the husband of the lady whose death I mentioned in my account of my childhood at Te Papa. 9 He had been originally a lieutenant in the navy, and felt specially called to follow the troops to the front when the Taranaki war with the Maoris broke out. He proved of great service to them, owing to his knowledge of the Maori language and of the ways of the people.

One day I accompanied Humphrey to Waitara, where the fighting was going on. We went in a small steamer, carrying Government stores to the troops. On landing I was told I could amuse myself looking about the camp till it was time to return to New Plymouth. I strolled out in the direction of the firing line where our men, standing in rifle pits, were firing at an unseen enemy crouching in the tall fern in front. Every few minutes cannon shots from our artillery were seen to strike the tops of the forest trees behind which the Maori pa stood. But no Maoris were visible anywhere, and the only sign of their presence was an occasional puff of smoke rising from their rifle pits, hidden by fern; and the "ping" caused by a flying bullet. One of these came so close to me that I thought it prudent to return to the officers' mess room, where Humphrey had taken me on our first arrival at the camp.

While waiting there, Dr. Grace and Mr. Holt came in and related the story of a thrilling experience one of the camp cooks had just had. He and his mate had just gone outside the camp to a small clump of trees to collect firewood. When returning with their back-loads they became aware that they were the objects of pursuit by two Maoris, armed with the dreaded tomahawk. Throwing down their loads they ran for their lives. Their pursuers gained upon them. Hearing a cry, the foremost man turned round and saw his mate being killed a few yards behind him. Breathless and exhausted with his long run, he feared his turn would soon come. What could he do to save himself? He had noticed that the two Maoris wore nothing but waist mats. On both sides

of the road along which he was running, Scotch thistles five feet high grew close together, and a happy thought occurred to him to dash into this thicket of prickly thistles, and hide there. As he disappeared amongst them his baffled pursuers, who, naked as they were, could not follow him, uttered a yell of disappointment and made off themselves, to avoid being shot by the soldiers who were hastening from the camp to help the cooks.

In the centre of New Plymouth was a round hill, fortified as a citadel, into which all women and children were told to flock whenever a signal gun was fired. I happened to be walking in the town one day when I heard the gun-fire, and saw women and children hurrying up to the place of refuge, and companies of soldiers hastening towards the walls. On making inquiry I heard that the boys who tended the milch cows in the fields adjoining the town had been fired upon, and that a large force of Maoris threatened the town. On climbing Marsland Hill I could see two or three hundred Maoris sitting on the top of a ridge just out of rifle range, and watching our proceedings. Some of them performed a haka, evidently to show how little they feared our ability to injure them. But on seeing a force as large as their own approaching them, they retired. For a day or two after this demonstration the civilian population of New Plymouth were rather nervous and jumpy, and all sorts of wild stories of coming attacks by Maoris flew about.

On Sunday, Mr. Wilson, who had gone to the Maori camp to have service as usual with the natives, was turned back, and warned never to go near the Maori camp again. He told me that his practice had been, for months, to

minister in both camps on Sundays, and to visit the sick and wounded on week-days. To avoid being mistaken by the Maori sentries for an ordinary white settler, he always put his surplice on when leaving New Plymouth, and continued to wear it until he got back to the town. It speaks well for the confidence reposed by the Maoris in the missionaries that, for nearly two years after the war began, they accepted their ministrations and allowed them to pass freely backwards and forwards between their own camps and those of the soldiers arrayed against them.

5 Captain Montressor-Smith commanded the Royal N.Z. Fencibles at Howick, 1851. (H.F.).

6 It is now five weeks since intelligence of any kind has reached us from the north... at a period when It is certain that events of the greatest importance to the interests of the Colony must be taking place (From a Leading Article in the Lyttelton Times of 19th September, 1860)

7 For information relating to Justice Johnston see Recollections and Reflections of an Old New Zealander. E. Maxwell (A. H. & A. W. Reed), pp. 40-50.

8 Commissary-General Humphrey S. Jones, C. B., J. W. Stack's brother-in-law. Formerly served in India. For a reference to his work in New Zealand and its difficulties see England and the Maori Wars. A. J. Harrop (New Zealand News, 1937), pp. 192-3.

9 The intrepid Wilson was stirred at the news that the Maoris, after one of their victories, had given no quarter to the prisoners. He therefore set out for Taranaki, and went among the Maori camps, urging the observance of the laws of civilised warfare. His life was often in extreme danger, but the white bands which he always wore usually secured the respect of friend and foe. After much discouragement, he succeeded in gaining the consent of the Waikatos to spare the wounded, to exchange prisoners, and to tend the sick. A History of the English Church in New Zealand. H. T. Purchas. (Simpson & Williams). See also Early Maoriland Adventures of J. W. Stack. (A. H. & A. W. Reed).

CHAPTER III. JAMES WEST STACK'S STORY.

CHAPTER III

Late for my wedding, I am safely married by Bishop Selwyn. Accompanied by the Gorsts, my wife and I revisit the Maori School at Kohanga.

The arrival of the Robert Lowe, a troop ship on her way to Auckland, furnished me with the opportunity of getting to my destination, and on Friday, 25th January, 1861, I reached Auckland and put up at Mr. Steele's boarding house in Parnell. Mrs. Steele gave me a warm reception, knowing what had brought me to Auckland, and remembering, no doubt, that I was one of the little boys she used to tub regularly every Saturday night at St. John's College in 1845, though she had tact enough to avoid alluding to it.

Mr. Borrows brought me a message that I should find Miss Jones at the Selwyns'. There I duly met her, and as we had much to talk about we quickly adjourned to the privacy of the Government Domain, where, under a fine puriri tree, we sat in a retired spot and talked over our future plans. As I had been expected for many days, the arrangements regarding the date of our marriage were already fixed for 28th January, which only allowed me time to qualify for the issue of the Registrar's certificate authorising our marriage. The law requiring a residence of three nights, I could not procure

a certificate until the morning of the very day on which I was to be married at noon.

Looking back upon what happened to me that morning I wonder how I ever got to the church in anything like time. On Saturday morning I took the precaution to interview the Registrar-General, Mr. Bennett, and explained to him the difficulty I was in. He promised faithfully that he would make a point of being at his office by half-past nine on Monday, and that the signing of the papers would only occupy a few minutes. I then went to see Archdeacon Lloyd, who was the surrogate who issued marriage licences. When I told him what I had come for, and why I had chosen to be married in the Bishop's private chapel, he exclaimed:

"You want to be married privately with such a bride as Miss Jones! Why, man, if I were in your place, I would hire a brass band, and go all round the town to let everybody know what a lucky fellow I was. You are a fortunate young man, and I heartily congratulate you."

From Archdeacon Lloyd I went to the lawyer's office to see Mr. (afterwards Sir Frederick) Whittaker, and sign the marriage settlement, but it was not ready for my signature, and that had to be put off until Monday morning. After purchasing the wedding ring and making some calls with Miss Jones, I returned to my lodgings, where I found a note from Bishop Selwyn asking me to take morning service at Remuera the following day. It was rather an ordeal for me, for I knew that the whole Buchanan family attended that church, and that I should be the object of their critical study during the

whole service. As it was only the third service I had taken since my ordination, I felt rather nervous, and I was not quite satisfied with my clerical outfit, which was by no means above criticism.

In the evening, dear E. and I went to St. Matthew's Church. Rev. David Jones preached, as usual, a striking sermon on the reply of Abraham to the rich man's request that Lazarus might be sent to relieve his thirst. I have never forgotten it. It was an appalling sermon, every paragraph emphasised by some eccentric movement of the preacher's body. His favourite action was to pull desperately at his collar as if to escape being throttled by it.

I got an early breakfast on Monday morning and walked down to the Registrar's office in Shortland Street, arriving about nine o'clock and expecting every moment to see the door open. There was not a breath of wind stirring, the sun was scorchingly hot, and I was wet through with perspiration. Half-past nine struck, and then ten, but no Mr. Bennett. I hurried up to Mr. Whittaker's office. He had not arrived, and the marriage settlement was still not ready for my signature. I went back to the Registrar's, and here was old Mr. Bennett, full of apologies, but still not ready. I did not get the certificate until half-past ten, when I hurried off to the lawyers, and was relieved to find I could sign the papers. It was a long, hot walk to St. Stephen's, and I did not get there until a quarter-past eleven. I had just three-quarters of an hour to shave, dress, and get down to the little chapel, a quarter of a mile distant. Old Mr. Burrows told me I was late, and he had to hurry off to join his household and the students, who were gone to

a picnic at the North Shore. I looked to see if I had everything I wanted in the room. Yes, there was the tub of water for my bath, and the hot water for shaving, and my bag with my clothes. The warm morning had made my beard sprout thickly, and I looked a perfect ruffian; but when I began shaving the razor would not cut at all, so I was obliged to strop it for fully ten minutes. Though I got a smooth face, it began bleeding, and I was delayed some minutes staunching the blood. After a bath I began dressing, and got as far as putting on my new boots when, to my dismay, I found my feet were so swollen, with walking and the heat, that I could not get into them. There was no help for it but to stand in the tub of cold water until the feet shrank a little. While I was doing this I heard the carriage with my bride pass by, and had the mortification of knowing that she would reach the chapel before me, and that I should be the butt of our friends' jokes all the day. I cried out for help, but no help came, as the great building was quite deserted, and I was the only soul in it. After much coaxing and pulling I got my boots on, and started down the hill to the chapel, oozing at every pore. Attorney-General Swainson met me at the stile and the Montressor Smiths at the door. There was no time for explanations, and I did not attempt any. I walked in and took my place before the Communion rails, where my bride met me, and Bishop Selwyn duly performed the service.

At the wedding breakfast Bishop Selwyn was, as usual, the life of the party, and his presence made me feel more at my ease. He proposed our health, and I felt less

nervous in acknowledging his very kind speech than I should have done replying to anyone else.

To me, after all my years of loneliness and isolation, and longing for sympathetic companionship, it was delightful to find myself at last in possession of what I had desired, in its most perfect form. It was with heartfelt gratitude to God that we knelt together at the close of the first day of our union, and thanked Him for all His goodness to us in the past, and prayed for a continuance of His favour in the future – a prayer which, after nearly sixty years of married life, we can truly say has been abundantly granted.

Owing to our marriage taking place later in January than was expected, the gathering of the schools at Waikato, arranged to greet us there, broke up before our arrival, and the Melanesians were already on their way back before we left Auckland for Waikato. But we were told that if we could hasten our movements we should find the Ashwells' school still at Kohanga, awaiting our arrival.

Fortunately Mr. John Gorst, 10 who was married about

the same time as we were, wished to visit Waikato with his bride, and he suggested that we should hire a small vessel to take us across the Manukau harbour to the Waikato "portage," where we could get a canoe to convey us across to the Maunsells. I gladly fell in with the suggestion, and we went to Kohanga together. Unfortunately we got aground on the mud flats in Manukau harbour, and were delayed so long that it was Saturday night before we reached the portage, where we were devoured by mosquitoes.

In pouring rain we started early on Sunday morning for Kohanga, but did not reach the mission station until one o'clock. The faces of three of the party looked as if they had been badly mauled in a boxing match, and the soaked and draggled dresses of the two brides were most forlorn looking. Our arrival was rather a shock to the Sabbatarian ideas of the Maoris, who hardly knew how to greet us. 11 But all coolness soon wore off, and our dear old friend, Mr. Ashwell, forgot our wrongdoing, and we all felt happy together.

Dr. Maunsell arranged for the Maoris to meet us a day or two after our arrival, and there was a great gathering, when my dear bride gave away the contents of a large box of presents which she had procured from England to distribute amongst the school children. When I made my speech to the Maoris they chaffed me a good deal for having introduced into it so many South

Island provincialisms. They said, "You spoke pure Maori when you left us, and now you talk a jargon," the truth being that I used one or two words with which they were not familiar, and they jarred on their sensitive ears. 12

We spent several happy days with our friends at Kohanga, and then returned to Auckland to be present at the consecration of Mr. Patteson as Bishop of Melanesia.

10 John Gorst, afterwards the Right Hon. John Eldon Gorst, came out to New Zealand as a young man in 1860. His wife was the daughter of Rev Lorenzo Moore, of Christchurch. Their eldest son. Sir (John} Eldon Gorst, who became Consul-General in Egypt, and pre-deceased his father in 1911, was born in Auckland in 1861. In the early sixties the elder Gorst, appointed by Sir George Grey, acted as a magistrate in the Waikato, where he started a periodical to combat the Maori King Party's official paper. The Maori chief Rewi and his followers forcibly removed Gorst's printing plant at Te Awamutu, and ordered him to leave but the young Englishman coolly stuck to his post until instructions arrived from the Governor. After an absence of forty years, during which he became prominent in British politics, he returned to New Zealand for a visit in 1906, as special envoy from the British Government. During his visit he gave expression to this fine tribute as to the later relations between Pakeha and Maori. "There are places," he said, "where less civilised races have been reduced to a kind of servitude, but there is no country in the world where the uncivilised race is treated on equal terms, and where more justice and more consideration is shown to them." (Dictionary of National Biography and Shrimpton & Mulgan's Maori and Pakeha.)

11 In later years "the Sabbath, which had been so scrupulously honoured, became less sacred in their eyes, because of the total disregard of it by so many of our own countrymen. This was notably the case with the military. The Waikato war began on the Sabbath, and so likewise that at Wanganui; and it was on a Sabbath, when the defenders were engaged in worship without the pa, that our forces entered and took the Ruapekapeka fort. (Forty Years in New Zealand. James Buller.)

12 In 1840 Mr. E. M. Williams, son of Archdeacon Henry Williams, when visiting Otago to secure the signatures of southern chiefs to the Treaty of Waitangi, had to avail himself of the services of a native familiar with both northern and southern dialects, to make the purport of his visit thoroughly understood. (The Old Whaling Days. Robert McNab.)

James Watkin, the pioneer Otago missionary, found the publications of the Mission press at Mangungu of little use, and had to prepare and publish his own reading matter for the Otago Maoris. (The Pioneering Days of Southern Maoriland. M. A. Rugby Pratt.)

The chief difference was the substitution of k for ng by the southern Maori, and a softening of the final vowel often to a breath merely, so that kainga became kaik in the south. There were also some dialect words of the Ngatimamoe different from words in the north. But the fact that Tamihana Rauparaha was able to make himself at home with the southern people shows that they could understand one another perfectly. There may have been slightly more difference between the missionaries' Maori and the southern people's Maori, because the former was largely based on the Ngapuhi dialect. Still, there was not nearly so much difference in the dialects of the Maori as between county dialects in England. (Johannes C. Andersen.)

Mrs. Tiripa Te Hauraraka (Mana Kore) Pitama, of Tuahiwi, Canterbury, who stated that she remembered Stack well, informed me in April, 1936, that there was, and still is, a pronounced difference between the dialects of the northern and southern tribes; and that in the olden days this would have been more noticeable, in view of the Ngatimamoes having left the impress of their speech upon the southern dialect. (Editor.)

CHAPTER IV. JAMES WEST STACK'S STORY.

CHAPTER IV

After assisting at the consecration of Bishop Patteson I visit him at Kohimarama.

The consecration of John Coleridge Patteson 13 as Bishop of Melanesia took place on 24th February, 1861, at St. Paul's Church, Auckland, by the Primate, G. A. Selwyn, assisted by Bishops Hobhouse and Abraham. The service was one of the most interesting and solemn that I have ever witnessed. The congregation was composed entirely of communicants, drawn from the various Auckland parishes, together with a selected number of Maori and Melanesian converts, about 800 in all, if I remember rightly, who filled every seat in the church.

The consecrating Bishop occupied the sanctuary, and close to the communion rails sat the clergy, behind them the Melanesians and the Maoris, and behind them again the Europeans. Bishop Selwyn, in his episcopal robes, surrounded by his colleagues, occupying the most pro-

minent position in the church in front of the altar, looked the very embodiment of kingly dignity. His address to Mr. Patteson was most touching, and moved the feelings of everyone present.

One of the most striking scenes in connection with the consecration was the employment of a young Melanesian man to act as a living book rest, holding in front of the Bishop the open Prayer Book from which the form of consecration was read. At the administration of the Holy Communion, which followed the act of consecration, Bishop Selwyn did me the honour of selecting me to act as Deacon to Dr. Maunsell, who administered to the Maoris. At the close of the service he said he wished me to read prayers at the pro-Cathedral in the evening, and Dr. Maunsell to read the Lessons, as Bishop Patteson was going to preach; and he, Bishop Selwyn, wished the first service in which Bishop Patteson took part after his consecration to be conducted entirely by clergymen who were actually engaged in missionary work.

Before leaving Auckland I paid a visit to Bishop Patteson at Kohimarama, where I found him in his little room, surrounded by Melanesian boys, who fondled him as lovingly as affectionate children treat a beloved mother. I was very much impressed by his gentleness of manner to everyone, and the entire absence of any sort of self-assertion. Knowing what a learned man he was, I was quite surprised to find how diffidently and modestly he expressed his opinions upon the various questions we touched upon in the course of conversation.

A number of small outrigger canoes were lying on the beach opposite the school buildings, and I was much

interested in watching some Melanesian boys paddling out into the harbour in the tiny, rickety craft, that seemed incapable of supporting their weight, but in which they went about with perfect safety. The Kohimarama beach was where I took my departure from New Zealand in 1846, when I accompanied my father to Sydney, leaving behind us my dear mother and the rest of the family in the kind keeping of Mr. and Mrs. Kissling.

13 John Coleridge Patteson (1827-1871) received his first impetus towards a missionary career as the result of a sermon preached by Bishop Selwyn prior to his departure for New Zealand. Like Selwyn, Patteson (known affectionately by the older man as "Coley") was an athlete. He was a brilliant student, and, it is said, was acquainted with twenty-three languages. He was a man of enterprise and undaunted courage, and, like many another of "the noble army of martyrs," was slain by those to whom his life had been devoted. He was killed by the natives at Nukapu, in September, 1871, in revenge for the "blackbirding" raids of traders, an iniquity from which he had, of course, endeavoured to protect the natives.

CHAPTER V. JAMES WEST STACK'S STORY.

CHAPTER V

Visiting interesting places and people on our way to Canterbury, we are entertained by Tamihana Rauparaha and William Fox.

Thanks to my bride being the sister of the head of the Commissariat at the seat of war, I had no difficulty in securing a comfortable cabin in the coastal steamer Airedale, in which we were to go to Wellington. The vessel was crowded with passengers, amongst whom were a large number of military to be landed at New Plymouth. When we arrived off the town there was a heavy ocean swell running into the roadstead, and the landing was very difficult. The first boat from the shore brought my brother-in-law, who hoped to take us back with him to his rooms, where he had prepared a second wedding breakfast, and invited several brother officers to meet us. We were both so sea-sick, however, that landing was out of the question, and poor Humphrey had to return without us, much to the disappointment of us all.

We spent several miserable hours tossing about at the anchorage, and then proceeded on our voyage to the next stopping place, which was Nelson. There we landed, and tried to get rooms in the town, but without success, every place being full. In our wanderings about the

town we met Sir David Monro, 14 who took us home with him to afternoon tea, and then very kindly went out and found accommodation for us with a Mrs. Taylor, who took in boarders. We arrived at her house late in the evening, and went at once to our room, where the landlady pointed out to us the necessity of speaking in whispers, as the walls on two sides consisted of paper pasted upon calico, and every word uttered in one room could be heard in the next.

After spending a few pleasant days in Nelson we went to Wellington, where we stayed with Bishop and Mrs. Abraham 15 and had a most enjoyable time with them. The Bishop was a delightful companion, full of fun and good humour. Owing to my bride's popularity with the Wellington residents, I came in for more social entertainments of all kinds than I had ever had in my life before.

From Wellington we went to spend a few days with my old friend Tamihana Te Rauparaha, 16 who lived on a sheep station just opposite the island of Kapiti, where he was brought up as a child in his father's stronghold. Tamihana sent his groom with a couple of saddle horses to Wellington for our use. We had a delightful ride along the shores of Porirua harbour, and along the Horokiri (now known as Horokiwi) valley. The view

from Paekakariki, looking northwards, was very fine After lunching at Scotch Jock's, 17 a rough sort of inn at the foot of the hill, we commenced our ride along the white sandy beach which stretched all the way between Paekakariki and Whanganui harbour, and was then the only existing road between the two places. At first starting the sand was soft, and we could only walk our horses, but after a while the tide went out and left a wide expanse of hard beach. As soon as our horses felt it under their hoofs they began to canter, and would, if allowed, have gone off full gallop. Before we got to the Waikanae river it began to rain, and for fourteen miles we rode through a continual downpour which drenched us to the skin, and I was very thankful when our guide turned off the beach, and across the sandhills in the direction of Tamihana's house.

Our host met us at the door with a warm welcome and loud expressions of distress at seeing us arrive in such a drenched condition. My dear E. was so stiff and exhausted that on dismounting she fell back fainting in my arms; but, to our great relief, soon recovered consciousness, and a warm bath and change into dry clothes soon obliterated any trace of fatigue.

It was with great pleasure that I introduced my bride to my old friend and his good wife, and recounted to her our various experiences together in England, and on the voyage out to New Zealand in the Slains Castle.

We spent several days with Tamihana, who very kindly supplied us with horses, and a guide to take us to Westoe,

Mr. (afterwards Sir) William Fox's 18 home in the Rangitikei district, two days' journey to the north. We called on the Hadfields 19 as we passed through Otaki, and received a very kind invitation to stay with them on our way back from Westoe.

After crossing the Manawatu, where we had to swim our horses, we put up at a very rough shanty, kept by two young bachelors, who were much alarmed at seeing a lady arrive requiring accommodation for the night. They begged us to wait outside the house until they had swept and tidied it somewhat. They entreated us to be careful how we walked about inside, as the flooring boards were all rotten and full of holes. The only bedroom they could provide was a small apartment adjoining the one common room, which served for every purpose. They put fresh fern into the bunk, and provided two new blankets, and two flour bags, filled with hay, for pillows. We could not help feeling sorry for the young men, who were evidently of gentle birth, and very much out of their element. They gave us the best they had, and it was not their fault that we suffered much discomfort under their rotten roof. The mosquitoes and fleas

took care that we did not get much sleep, and we were right glad when morning dawned and we were able to get out into the fresh air. The road to Westoe was a pleasant change from the monotony of our beach ride. We were charmed with the beauty of the Rangitikei valley scenery, which kept on improving until we reached Westoe. Here everything that refined taste and artistic skill could accomplish had been done to enhance the natural beauty of the situation. It was a pleasant surprise to find in such an out of the way part of New Zealand a miniature reproduction of an English gentleman's country house, with all its comforts and conveniences both inside and out. We received a very warm welcome, and soon felt quite at home.

Mr. Fox was a good water colour artist, and possessed a very large collection of drawings taken in various parts of the world. His rough sketches were made in an incredibly short space of time. He told us his secret was to work with a large brush, put his darkest colours on at once, and tone down afterwards with another thick brush dipped in plain water. In this way he would draw a forest, or a range of wooded hills, or a sunset, in a few minutes on a large sheet.

A neat little wooden church stood within a few hundred yards of the dwelling house, and there on Sunday I officiated to a congregation composed of the neighbouring gentlemen farmers and their families and servants. We spent three weeks at Westoe, and before we left, the residents expressed the wish that we would give up our intention of residing in Canterbury and make our

permanent home amongst them. It was a proposal afterwards renewed in a more formal and business-like manner. Gratifying as the proposal was, we could not for a moment entertain the idea of deserting our poor Maoris in the South Island for an English cure.

We parted from our friends at Westoe with great regret, and began our journey back to Wellington, spending a few days with Archdeacon and Mrs. Hadfield at Otaki on the way. My bride admired the Otaki church very much; and was also much interested in the Archdeacon's account of its construction, and in the contrast he drew between the condition of the Maoris she saw in the church, and the savages amongst whom he settled when he first arrived in the place, about twenty years before.

He told us the story of his journey up the coast some time previously, with a newly arrived missionary named Mason. 20 When, on horseback, they reached the banks of the Manawatu, they found no one to ferry them over. After wandering up and down the bank of the river, hoping to find some Maoris to assist them, they came to the conclusion that unless they managed to get across the river themselves without assistance, they would not get over at all. After some searching they found a canoe, but without paddles. Looking round, Mr. Mason espied some old palings, smeared with red ochre, sticking up in the sand a short distance away. He pulled up a couple, and brought them to the canoe, and with their aid they

managed to paddle across to the other side. While they were saddling their horses Mr. Hadfield remarked to his companion that, if they had been Maoris, they would not have dared to make use of the pieces of paling as paddles, because the red ochre upon them showed they had been part of a burial ground enclosure, which it was sacrilege to employ for any other purpose – a crime which the dead would resent and punish.

They thought no more of what they had done, but rode along the beach, crossed the Rangitikei safely, and proceeded on their way towards Whanganui. When about half way, while crossing an insignificant, rippling stream, a few feet wide, which just ruffled the surface of the sand as it crossed the beach to the sea, a wave from the incoming tide, which barely covered their horses' hoofs, swept past them in the same way that similar waves had done over and over again during their long ride up the coast. But this time the consequences were very serious to both riders, and fatal in the end to one of them. The wave had converted the part of the beach they were passing over into a quicksand, into which both horses sank. Mr. Hadfield's horse, which was on the landward side, after much violent plunging, succeeded in extricating itself, but Mr. Mason's horse, on the seaward side, was caught by another inrush of the tide, and quite submerged. Acting on the advice of some natives, who suddenly appeared and tried to render assistance, Mr. Mason turned his horse's head seaward, as they said his only chance of safety was to swim his horse to some little distance from the quicksands, and only try to land when he felt sure that he had passed them. While

attempting to follow this advice he was thrown from his horse, and drowned.

Mr. Hadfield carefully avoided telling the Maoris of the substitutes for paddles they had used at Manawatu, knowing that they would at once conclude that Mr. Mason perished as utu (revenge) for desecrating a graveyard. Being a missionary his death would tend to revive their heathen belief in the malignant power possessed by the dead over the living, and the necessity of doing something continually to propitiate their goodwill.

On returning to Wellington we had to wait for some time for the arrival of the steamer which was to take us to Canterbury. We spent part of it with Bishop and Mrs. Abraham, and part with Judge and Mrs. Johnston. Nothing could exceed the kindness with which we were treated, and we shall carry to the end of our days most pleasing recollections of the friendliness and hospitality with which we were everywhere entertained in Wellington during our wedding tour.

Our good friends the Latters 21 entertained us on our arrival in Lyttelton, and the Bullers 22 in Christchurch,

and they kindly insisted on our staying with them until our things reached Kaiapoi, which was not until several weeks after our arrival in Canterbury.

14 Sir David Monro (1813-1877) was the Speaker of the General Assembly in 1861, and was knighted the following year. The medical library of the three noted Monros – father, son and grandson, was donated to the New Zealand Parliamentary Library.

15 Charles John Abraham, first Bishop of Wellington, was born in 1814 and died 4th February, 1903. In 1850 he joined Bishop Selwyn in New Zealand, and for a time was principal of St. John's College, Auckland. In 1858 he was consecrated Bishop of Wellington, and in 1868 joined Selwyn (then Bishop of Lichfield) as his coadjutor.

16 For further information concerning Tamihana Te Rauparaha, see More Maoriland Adventures of J. W. Stack, the preceding volume to this.

17 Scotch Jock. The nickname of John Nicholls, or Nichol, an ex-whaler and trader, who lived there with his large half-caste family and their Maori mother. (James Cowan.)

18 Sir William Fox (1812-1893) became the agent of the New Zealand Company at Nelson in 1843, in succession to Captain Wakefield, a victim of that tragedy of misunderstandings commonly known as the Wairau massacre. On the death of Colonel Wakefield, in 1848, he became chief agent, and in the same year received from Sir George Grey the appointment of Attorney-General. Eight years later he was at the head of the ministry, and subsequently held that position on several occasions. He became Premier, for the second time, in 1861, the year that the Stacks were entertained by him.

19 Octavius Hadfield (1815-1904) was ordained by Bishop Broughton, at Paihia, in January, 1839. Later in the same year he founded a mission station at Kapiti, the savage Rauparaha's stronghold, making his headquarters at Otaki. His influence over the natives probably averted an attack on Wellington in the early days of the settlement. In 1870 he succeeded Abraham as Bishop of Wellington, and in 1889 was elected to the Primacy.

20 Rev. J. Mason had been appointed, at the instance of the Williams brothers, to minister to the natives at Wanganui. He was ordained to the priesthood by Selwyn. His death by drowning, as related, occurred on 5th January, 1843.

21For further information concerning Robert Latter, see More Maoriland Adventures of J. W. Stack.

22 Rev. James Buller was born in 1812 and died at Christchurch on 6th November, 1884. He arrived in New Zealand in 1836, and entered the Methodist ministry the following year. He served as missionary to the Maoris and minister to Europeans. Author of Forty Years in New Zealand. Father of Sir Walter Buller. (M. A. Rugby Pratt.)

Referring to the native race in Canterbury, Rev. James Buller says: "The Maori inhabitants were few; most of them lived on reserves near Kaiapoi, and at Akaroa. The reserve in the former place was sub-divided among them by families, by my eldest son, who was Commissioner, and was valued at £60,000 in 1860. I ministered to them occasionally, in conjunction with the Rev. James Stack, of the Episcopalian Mission... Far away from the seat of war, it was not the less a subject of great public interest. Emissaries came, from the disaffected tribes in the north, to stir up evil passions among the natives. To counteract their influence, a meeting was convened in the town hall, where Mr. Stack and myself acted as interpreters. This was highly satisfactory in its results." (Forty Years in New Zealand. James Buller. 1878).

There was nothing of the narrow sectarian about the Stacks. The father was associated with the Wesleyan pioneer Mission at Whangaroa as early as 1823, and remained on friendly terms with his former brethren when he joined the Anglicans. In an earlier part of his book, Buller refers appreciatively to the elder Stack, and in the following chapter we see the friendship between Anglican and Methodist renewed in the second generation.

In his 1860 Report to the Canterbury Synod, Stack wrote: "I must not close this report without some acknowledgment of Rev. J. Buller's cordial co-operation in all my work. Seeing that at least half the natives are members of the Wesleyan body it is evident that, if he was so disposed, he might occasion me much trouble, and quite paralyse all my plans." (From a MS. in the Turnbull Library, Wellington.)

CHAPTER VI. JAMES WEST STACK'S STORY.

CHAPTER VI

We leave Christchurch, encounter difficulties on the road, arrive at Tuahiwi, entertain Walter Buller, and settle down to our work.

When leaving Auckland we purchased from the Montressor Smiths their American buggy, which was brought to Lyttelton on the deck of the steamer. We found it of invaluable service to us, and one of the best investments we ever made. It was in constant use for twenty-three years, and then sold for half the price we gave for it. The lightness and strength of the little carriage attracted much attention wherever it was seen. The shafts, and spokes of the wheels, were of hickory, a tough and elastic American wood, which no rough usage seemed to damage. What surprised everyone was that such a frail looking vehicle could carry so many people and so much luggage as it was often seen to hold. Sir William Martin's warning to me, when I parted from him in Auckland, was to be careful not to upset the buggy, and hurt my wife, who was a special friend of his. He did not know, what I soon discovered to my great satisfaction, that it was almost impossible for the most inexperienced driver to overturn the buggy, owing to the great width of the axles, which kept the centre of gravity always well within the wheels. It

could be driven over the roughest roads, bounding as it did lightly over stumps and big stones. When a forest tree was met with lying across the road I was able, after unloading, and taking the horse out of the shafts, single-handed to lift the buggy bodily over it.

As horses were at the time both scarce and dear, it was fortunate for us that we had not to buy one before we could use our little carriage. My old Maori horse Bob proved to be quite quiet in harness, and I was glad to find that his angularities and comical defects were less noticeable between the shafts than when he was being ridden. 23

Our first drive from Christchurch to Kaiapoi occupied several hours, the roads being in a very rough condition. The pulling was very heavy most of the way, and Bob at the best was a slow goer. On reaching the Waimakariri we had a long delay before being ferried across the river in a punt, and we had a similar delay on getting to Kaiapoi, a few miles farther on, where we were ferried across the same river which flowed through it.

From there, for a mile and a half, we had to toil through loose sand, which covered the road to a depth of several inches. The desolate appearance of the barren sandhills through which we passed added greatly to the sense of weariness with which our slow progress oppressed us both.

On emerging from the sandhills we came in sight of the Maori Bush, which was quite close to us, and in the distance beyond it we saw the mountains and hills from which the Canterbury plains slope down to the sea. It was the first pleasing prospect that had met our eyes all day, and my dear bride was charmed with it.

But we were still more than a mile from our new home, which was concealed by the forest, on the other side of which it stood. While crawling along the rough cart track, full of mud holes, I thought several times that Bob would refuse to go any farther, especially when we came to the fourth creek flowing across the track, where the wheels sank up to the axles, and were only extricated from the mud and water by the most violent efforts of our steed. As we approached our cottage, however, I was glad to find that the road improved.

Just at dusk we drew up alongside the post and rail fence which enclosed the twenty acres given by the Maoris as a site for our school; and within which we saw for the first time our tiny little weatherboard house, standing amidst tall tussock grass, which was growing right up to its walls.

Hungry after our long fast, and wearied by the tediousness of our drive, we first set about lighting a fire, on which we soon had a kettle boiling. We had brought bread and meat with us from town, and with a hot cup of refreshing tea, we enjoyed our first meal under our own roof since we were married. We concluded the day by thanking our heavenly Father for His kindness to us in the past, and invoked His blessing upon our new home, and our new life about to begin in it.

We rose early next morning, and on going outside were charmed with the beauty of our immediate surroundings. We were in the curve of the Maori Bush, known as German Bay, from the number of sawyers of that nationality working there. Fine forest trees – mostly black or white pines – were growing up to within fifty yards of our cottage, and covered hundreds of acres to the south and west of us, protecting us from the coldest winds. To the north we had a fine view of Mount Grey and the Waipara hills, and Motunau point. Our only regret was that the sea, which stretched out to the east of us, was not visible, though only two miles distant. We could hear the roar of the surf along the forty-mile beach, and could sometimes, in very stormy weather, see the breakers at high water mark. The nearness of the forest did much to reconcile us to the want of sea view, for the trees were always objects of beauty that delighted us.

During the first few days we were busily occupied making furniture out of packing cases, which proved excellent substitutes for chests of drawers, wardrobes, dressing tables and so forth.

Soon after we got settled down our neighbour, the Rev. Benjamin Dudley, 24 came over one day from Rangiora, with Dr. Tripe, 25 to call upon us. Mr. Dudley

was a friend of the Montressor Smiths, whose clergyman he was for some time at Howick, and they had written asking him to call upon us. Both he and Dr. Tripe officiated at the birth of most of our children, and Mr. Dudley at their baptism.

We called our new home St. Stephen's, after the spot in Auckland endeared to us by the memory of our union there. The house consisted of only four rooms, twelve feet by ten each, with a low attic above them, approached by a ladder set up in the narrow, four-feet-wide passage.

By the advice of the Maoris, who greatly exaggerated the liability of the locality to inundation, our house had been placed on a ridge of gravel, because it was much higher than any other part of the land given to us. I had reason to regret this ever afterwards, because I could never get trees or flowers to flourish near the house. After a large expenditure of labour and time and money in the endeavour to make a garden, I had to give it up in despair. I was so anxious to have a lawn in front of the house that I paid a great deal for soil to be brought from the neighbouring bush land to form one. After being levelled, and sown with the best lawn grass seed to be got, the lawn disappointed all our hopes. It would look green for a few weeks in spring, but as soon as the hot weather set in, every blade of grass withered up.

We had not been many days at St. Stephen's before we found the water, in the hole the Maoris had dug for us, quite undrinkable, and I had to set to work to dig a well in another place. The water was very clear, but had a disagreeable taste, which we were told was due to

its passage through peaty soil from the snowy mountains to the coast. The water difficulty, like the barren land difficulty, followed me from Waikato to Kaiapoi. When, after many years, I did succeed in getting an overflow pipe sunk in our well, it was always choked, and the overflow stopped, every winter, by the accumulation of rain water in the upper part of the well. Hence when our house caught fire, in 1870, it could not be extinguished for want of a sufficient supply of water on the premises.

My early disappointments regarding the cultivation of land, and the provision of a comfortable home for my wife and family, made such an indelible impression on my mind, that they form the subjects of most of my dreams now in my old age. I am never long without having a troubled dream, either that I am engaged in the hopeless task of working land that will not grow anything, or trying to make a large wooden house comfortable, the half of which I cannot complete. I can get no boards for the walls or floors, and the roof always leaks.

Though we had no neighbours of any sort within a mile and a half, we never felt lonely; we were all in all to one another, and were glad to live our picnic life alone. The cooking of our meals was great amusement, though materials for the purpose were not always procurable. To procure fresh meat necessitated a journey of three miles and a half to Kaiapoi, or further to Rangiora. Milk was brought once a day from the nearest farmhouse, and we made our own bread, using tartaric acid and soda to raise it. We always had a stock-pot going, and that ensured good soup and gravies.

I had always felt great pity for the ladies in New Zealand, whose fingers I had seen disfigured and distorted by hard work, and resolved that, whenever I married, I would do all I could to prevent my wife from suffering as they had done; and I am thankful to see that, at eighty-seven years of age, her hands are as soft and shapely, and nearly as supple, as they ever were.

Mr. Walter Buller, 26 the eldest son of our Christchurch friend, was employed, at the time we settled at St. Stephen's, in subdividing the Maori Reserve, which consisted of 2,640 acres, amongst the natives entitled to share in it. We invited him to spend a few days with us, and he proposed that I should join him in a day's shooting over a swampy piece of ground, frequented by wild ducks and pukeko, or swamp hens. We spent a whole day wading about a raupo swamp, where the water was knee-deep, and covered in part with a coating of ice.

We shot a great many birds, or at least my companion did, for my shots seldom struck anything; but we had great difficulty in finding the birds in the raupo, and it was nearly dark when we got home with a dozen birds. We soon had a good fire blazing, and while Buller and I plucked some of our birds and prepared them for the pot, dear E. went into the sitting room, and played

selections from her favourite composers to while away the time until our cooking operations were completed.

We were all in a merry mood when we sat down to our belated repast. The soup was voted equal to the best hare soup, and the flesh of the pukeko to that of the best English game. Our meal occupied a long time, and it was two o'clock in the morning before we got to bed. This supper made such an impression upon us all that we never met in after years without alluding to our incomparable pukeko stew and the merry time we spent over it.

At this time the Maoris were so much taken up with consideration of the Government scheme for the subdivision of their land, that it was only on Sundays that they could be got together for religious services and instruction. Every Sunday morning E. and I started off after breakfast for the sandhills, on which the Maori church stood, and remained there until after evensong, which began at 3.30 p.m. E. rode old Bob, and I walked beside her. Morning service began at half past ten, and lasted a little over an hour, when the congregation came out and sat about the sandhills smoking and talking for half an hour. About twelve the bell rang, and all the people went back into the church. Bible classes were formed for those who could read, and instruction in the Church Catechism given to those who could not. Before separating the congregation was catechised on the sermon I had preached at the morning service.

Between the school and evening service we ate our

sandwiches, and strolled round amongst the Maori houses near the church, talking to any of the people we met. The women were all very pleased to have an English lady living amongst them, and desirous to teach them in their own language what they wanted to know. They called her "Mata" or Mother, from the start.

23 Old Bob. In his booklet Through Canterbury and Otago with Bishop Harper in 1859-60, Canon Stack thus describes his steed: "It was the most ridiculous looking object, with a ewe neck, no mane, thick withers, with a hole at the top of them big enough to hold a tennis ball, a backbone that curved inwards, as if drawn downwards by the weight of its great stomach haunches that slanted acutely from the croup, and a bushy, coarse-haired tail which it curled up like a dog over its back the moment anyone mounted it."

24 Rev. Benjamin Woolley Dudley (1805-1892) came to Canterbury as Chaplain of the Cressy in 1850, and was first incumbent of Lyttelton. He was later transferred to Rangiora, becoming archdeacon in 1876. He gave largely of his means in the cause of the Church. (H.F.)

25 Dr. William Borrowdale Tripe arrived at Dunedin in 1858, and proceeded to Rangiora, where he married, in 1859, Miss Brandon. In 1871 profession until his death in 1908 at the age of eighty-six. He left a large he moved to Picton, and in 1878 to Wellington, where he practised his family, and many of his children and grandchildren still reside in New Zealand. (For this information I am indebted to Mr. R. E. Tripe, grandson of Rev. W. B. Tripe. See also Cyclopaedia of Wellington, 1897, p. 483.) [sections transposed in footnote in original]

26 Sir Walter Lawry Buller (1838-1906) was the son of Rev. James Buller. (See note on p. 33). He was appointed Government Interpreter in 1855, and a Judge of the Native Land Court in 1865. As a volunteer on the staff of Sir George Grey he received the N.Z. war medal for gallantry in carrying, without escort, dispatches by night through forty miles of the enemy's country. In 1875 he was made C.M.G. in recognition of his work on ornithology, and in 1886 was advanced to K.C.M.G. His History of the Birds of New Zealand ranks amongst the most magnificent contributions to ornithological literature. (Diet. Nat. Biog. ) See also Annals of a New Zealand Family by his sister-in-law, Laura Jackson.

CHAPTER VII. JAMES WEST STACK'S STORY.

CHAPTER VII

My wife and I visit Port Levy, and are hospitably entertained by the Maoris, whose kind attentions, however, prove a little embarrassing.

When the time came for me to visit the various Maori villages on Banks Peninsula my dear wife was very desirous to accompany me. I shrank from the idea of exposing her to all the dirt and discomfort of the Maori houses I felt it my duty to stay in. Hitherto when going amongst the Maoris she had occupied a tent of her own, and had been provided with clean food, served on clean plates, with clean knives and forks and spoons to cat it with. And when retiring to rest she had clean bed-clothes of her own, and a fragrant fern couch to lie on, and no fleas or other vermin to disturb her rest. I was afraid if I took her to stay in dirty Maori houses she might think me neglectful of her comfort, in not having provided a tent for her use, and clean bedding and other things necessary for her well-being.

It had been my practice from the beginning of my work amongst the Canterbury natives to accept their hospitality on all occasions, and make them feel whenever I visited them that I did not think myself superior to them in any way, or unwilling to share their privations, and to identify myself with their lowly lot in the country.

If I had refused to accept their kindly meant hospitality on the ground that their houses were dirty and foul-smelling, and their bedding soiled and full of fleas, and their food coarse and repulsive to my European palate, I should have hurt their feelings, and deprived them of the great pleasure of entertaining a pakeha. It was my purpose to endeavour to gain their real affection and confidence. I wanted them to feel quite sure that I was their real friend, one who sympathised with them in everything, and whom they could regard and treat as one of themselves.

But to take my wife and subject her to the dirt and discomfort of Maori village life was quite another thing, and it was with great reluctance that I yielded to her wishes, and allowed her to accompany me to Banks Peninsula. We agreed that whatever happened whilst we were staying with the Maoris, nothing should be said or done by either of us to make them feel that we disliked anything they did for us. They were to be our hosts, and we their guests, and the least we could do was to show them that we appreciated their kindly hospitality.

On hearing from me that we proposed to visit them, the Port Levy natives sent a boat to Lyttelton to fetch us. Unfortunately an easterly gale sprang up, which lasted two days, and kept us waiting longer than was convenient, and we had to start directly the gale subsided. It was late in the day, and it took so long to pull down to the Heads that it grew quite dark before we could cross and get round into Port Levy. The easterly swell coming in from the ocean made pulling across very difficult, and the boat rolled a good deal. I noticed with

dismay that one of the crew was quite exhausted. He was a sickly looking man, suffering from some chest complaint, and could hardly hold his oar. Our boat was getting dangerously near the cliff we were rounding, and it looked as if we might be swamped any moment by the incoming rollers.

I felt very much alarmed for our safety, and impelled to do something before it was too late to direct our movements. A woman named Ani Manahi was at the steer oar, which she seemed quite unable to manage in the rough water around us. I suggested that she should take the sick man's oar, and that I should steer. I turned the boat's head to the incoming rollers, and by dint of hard pulling we got out of the kelp, and well round the headland. I never in my life felt more relieved than when the boat's bows could safely be turned up the harbour, the pitching and rolling motion ceased, the sail could be set, and we felt ourselves gliding along swiftly towards the Maori settlement.

It was so late when we reached the landing place, that the Maoris had given up all idea of seeing us that night. But the moment they heard the call of our boatmen they came pouring out of their houses, and thronged the water's edge, while willing hands soon dragged our boat up the sloping beach. Everybody was shouting orders, but all in good humour.

The house of the chief, Poihipi, to which we were led, stood a few yards back from the beach. It consisted of one room, about twenty feet long by ten broad. A large fireplace occupied one end of it, where a brisk wood fire was blazing. A rough wooden bedstead nearly filled the

opposite end. Two flaring oil lamps hung from the roof, giving a good light but a bad smell. The ceiling was jet black with the smoke of years. The earthen floor, which was very uneven, was covered with flax mats, seated and standing upon which were between fifteen and twenty of the leading men and women of the place.

Along the walls hung every sort of thing the people used – saddles, bridles, articles of clothing, bags and kits, filled with all sorts of groceries and household needs. Two or three seamen's chests stood against the wall, in which the best clothes and blankets were kept. Spare boat oars and spars rested on the tie beams overhead, and upon them a varied assortment of bundles were piled. Now and then a favourite dog would look in and walk about, sniffing at one and another of the inmates, until one of them remembered that white people objected to the company of dogs indoors, when the animal would be driven out with loud cries and make-believe blows. The clatter of voices was incessant. Everyone wanted to speak, or to ask questions. When the answers given could not be heard the questioner would shout "Maniore! Maniore!" in louder and louder tones – the Maori equivalent of "Silence in the Court!" The only result, however, was an increase of noise.

In accordance with the hospitable customs of the people, we had no sooner set foot within the house than the women belonging to it set to work to prepare food for us. Knowing we were coming, they had procured the loan of some plates, and cups and saucers, from a neighbouring English settler, and also a quantity of fresh butter. When the food was cooked, a seaman's chest

was pulled away from the wall, and covered with a piece of new white calico, upon which the plates and cups and saucers were arranged. A large new loaf of bread was produced, the same size as the round camp oven in which it was baked. It proved to be excellent bread, and with the fresh butter and fried eggs and potatoes enabled us to make a good meal. The tea was poured into our cups from a large kettle in which it was made.

All but the hostess who waited upon us went outside while we were eating, as it is considered bad manners, by Maoris, to watch guests partake of food. But as soon as we had finished the natives returned, and the room became more crowded than ever, and the noisy and incessant talking went on till after midnight, when I had prayers, and begged the people to retire so that we might go to bed.

When everyone had gone, and we were quite alone, we had a look at the bed prepared for us. It was very soft, and the blankets and sheets were quite clean, and the pillow-cases too. But the pillows themselves, and the bed ticking, were black and shiny from the oil which oozed out of the mutton-bird feathers with which they were filled. On lying down we found the oily smell of the pillows so disagreeable that we could not sleep until we had put some of our clothes between them and our faces. The noise made whenever we moved, by the corrugated sheets of iron on which the feather bed we slept on rested, and the numerous fleas that disputed our right to share their quarters, rather disturbed our night's rest, and we were not sorry to hear voices outside our

darkened room, telling us it was time to get up. Soon after, the prayer bell began to ring, and we had to hurry off to the chapel, where we found the Maoris all assembled for morning prayer.

On returning to Poihipi's house we found breakfast ready, and a dish of large fresh mussels, which our hosts knew I was very fond of. They were obtained by the women, at low water, from the rocks which remained submerged to a depth of two or three feet. The shells were about six inches long, and two wide. They were very good eating, and quite wholesome.

As the morning advanced, many of the Maoris came to talk with me about their private affairs, and in the evening I sat for several hours listening to, and trying to settle, disputes about all sorts of trivial matters, which would otherwise have been carried to the Resident Magistrate's Court at Lyttelton for settlement.

At our midday meal a special piece of attention was paid to us by the chief Manahi, who was the possessor of a poha titi, or kelp bag of potted mutton birds, which had been sent to him from Stewart's Island, from relatives there, to whom he had sent half a ton of flour. Manahi had carefully treasured this poha for two years, waiting until some distinguished visitor arrived at Port Levy, or some event of sufficient importance happened which would justify the production and consumption of its highly prized contents.

We were enjoying a boiled fowl for our dinner when a small procession, headed by Manahi, entered the whare, bearing the poha, which the chief begged us to accept as

a mark of their respect and goodwill. He then proceeded to open the bag, and took out of it two or three of the birds, which were placed on a dish to put before us. They looked like parboiled ducklings, and were covered with large clots of what looked like congealed whale oil, which smelled very offensive to English nostrils.

I had to make a speech of thanks, and to offer our apologies for not eating the birds at once, as we were already satisfied by what we had just partaken of, but that we should eat them at our next meal, and let them know how much we enjoyed them. Knowing that all the Maoris present were longing to taste the delicious morsels contained in the poha, we presented the remaining contents to them, and begged them to share with us the generous gift of our benefactor Manahi Iri – a proposal which they received with loud expressions of approval. At our next meal we had one of the birds grilled till all the oil was extracted from it, when we found the flesh very palatable. It was a dark colour, and of a gamey flavour. The skin was as crisp as pork crackling, which it resembled in taste.

The scenery all around the Maori Reserve was very beautiful, and the clumps of ngaio trees, with their rounded outlines, gave at a little distance an English parklike appearance to the four or five hundred acres of local land which sloped gently upwards from the beach to the steep rampart of rocky cliffs which encircled the landward side of the Reserve, and rose to a height of fifteen hundred feet. We had many pleasant strolls along the beach, and through the woods and glens that surrounded us.

It was only in the immediate vicinity of the houses that anything unsightly or offensive presented itself. The chief eyesore and "nose sore" were the scaffolds, erected along the sea front of the houses, on which boned hapuku and shark were hung to dry for future use, while the fish refuse was left to fester in heaps underneath. Strange to say, as the years went by I got to like this fishy smell, as it was always associated in my mind with a warm welcome and kindly faces, beaming all over with real pleasure at seeing me, wherever that smell was met with.

Before we left the Peninsula we were the guests for a couple of days of the Cholmondeleys. 27 On the Sunday I held a service in their dining room, at which most of the English living in the Bay were present, and after which we were introduced to the Flemings and the Fields and others.

The Cholmondeley ladies were very fond of flowers. They were never without them, and no matter what season of the year one approached their house, it was always enveloped with an atmosphere of fragrance. The day was all too short to see everything the Cholmondeleys wanted to show us at Vale Royal, and they made us promise to come again, which we did gladly.

The Maoris called for us on Tuesday, according to agreement, in one of their whaleboats, which was filled up with firewood that they were taking to Lyttelton to sell. We had a good crew, and smooth water, and enjoyed our return passage very much.

Our kind new friends, the Latters, entertained us for a day or two, till the Akaroa steamer started, by which we meant to go to the other side of Banks Peninsula, where the Maoris were about to assemble, to discuss with Mr. Buller a scheme for the subdivision of their Reserves at Wainui and Onuku, on the same lines as those adopted by the Kaiapoi people.

27 The Cholmondeleys. See Early Maoriland Adventures and More Maoriland Adventures.

CHAPTER VIII. JAMES WEST STACK'S STORY.

CHAPTER VIII

In which is related the authentic and diverting tale of the ship that sailed into Port Levy with forty Maori skippers aboard her.

While giving the Latters an account of our visit to Port Levy we mentioned having come across two things while strolling along the beach, which had attracted our notice and caused us some surprise. One was the hull of a good-sized coasting vessel, weather worn, but apparently quite sound, lying on the beach and, close beside it, a quantity of valuable machinery, exposed to all weathers.

Mr. Latter was able to add a great deal to what we already knew from the natives about the machinery, and how it got to where we found it, while we were able to give him more than he yet knew, about the little vessel, and how it became such a castaway.

Mr. Latter told us that he was commissioned by the Maoris to import from England the machinery we saw. It was intended for a first-class flour mill, to be erected at Port Levy. When it arrived at Lyttelton, the whole Maori population of the Bay came to take delivery of it, and there was great excitement amongst them when the heavy pieces of machinery were being placed in boats, for conveyance to their settlement.

The purchase money of the machinery was not contributed by the Port Levy Maoris only, but by some whose largest interests were at Kaiapoi. When the question of a site for the erection of the mill came to be discussed by the several owners, they all disagreed. Some wanted it in one place and some in another, until at last the most enthusiastic advocates of mill-building lost all interest in the subject, and refused to allow anyone else to do anything, with the result that in time it was totally destroyed by exposure to the weather.

The fate which befell the little vessel we saw abandoned on the beach was another instance of the evils of divided ownership, and should serve as a warning to those theorists amongst ourselves who wish to substitute communism for individual ownership of property.

The vessel was purchased with a sum of six hundred pounds, which the Maoris received from land sold to the Government. They counted upon its proving a very useful and profitable investment. It would, they thought, enable them to visit their friends in Otago and Stewart's Island, and take to them flour, bringing back from them mutton birds and dried barracouta, and so save money which they now spent in fares and freights.

The vessel was handed over to them in Lyttelton, where about forty men, women and children got on board as soon as they obtained possession of it. Several of the number were experienced sailors, but they were not allowed to take control of the craft on that account, for fear they might acquire superior rights of ownership and dictate to the others what ought to be done with the new purchase. The result was that everyone on board

asserted his claim to a share in the ownership by doing something to get the vessel under way, and to sail her round to Port Levy.

All might have gone well but for a violent southwesterly gale which suddenly overtook them before they reached the Heads, and threatened to drive them out to sea. This was a prospect which filled them with great alarm, for they might all lose their lives if cast adrift in the state their little vessel was in.

They hugged the shore as they rounded Adderley Head, and hoped to anchor under the shelter of the high land. Someone heaved one of the anchors overboard, and, to the surprise of everybody, the whole of the chain attached to it ran overboard, too, and fell into the sea. Without taking the precaution to examine the fastening of the cable attached to the second anchor, it also was thrown overboard, and with the same result, and both anchors were lost. There was a tremendous hubbub, everybody blaming everybody else for what had happened. In the meantime the vessel was within a few feet of the Port Levy reef of rocks, upon which it escaped being wrecked more by good luck than good management.

By the aid of long oars they turned the vessel round, and beat down the bay. When opposite their village, however, they could not communicate with the shore, as they had no boat with them, and the loud storm drowned their cries. The onlookers, gathered on the beach, and expecting to see the anchor dropped, now saw with amazement that this eagerly expected craft, their communal property, was being sailed back towards the Heads. It sailed back, but again it turned; and so it

continued to be navigated backwards and forwards, up and down the bay. At last it grew quite dark, and the villagers retired to their habitations to talk things over. Next morning, at break of day, there was a very excited crowd of Maoris on the shore. There was the vessel, still sailing up and down the bay, and why it should be doing so, for no apparent purpose, puzzled them all very much. At last they came to the conclusion that all on board must be very drunk, for none but idiots could behave as they were doing.

Curiosity to solve the mystery induced several men to put off in a whaleboat, and board the vessel, the next time she approached the village. On their return they were able to inform the waiting crowd that both anchors and both cables were lost overboard, and that the only way to escape being wrecked was to keep sailing about until fresh anchors and cables could be procured.

After parleying as opportunity offered, it was decided that, while those who came in the boat should remain on board and continue to sail the vessel, the others should discuss what was to be done to get out of the difficulty they were in. Angry recriminations followed. Anchors and chain cables were very expensive, and the general feeling was that the cost of providing new ones should be borne by the persons through whose folly they were lost. But they stoutly contested their liability. The discussion of the question was so prolonged that the sailing crew had to be relieved and renewed day after day, until at last everyone got sick and tired of the job. The climax was reached when one evening the sailing crew decided to anchor the vessel with a boat's anchor, and go

ashore to sleep. During the night an easterly gale sprang up and drove the craft on to the rocks, where she bumped all night long, and was found in the morning lying on the beach, with a large hole in her side. There she was allowed to remain for years, because her multitude of owners could come to no agreement about the payment of the necessary repairs.

CHAPTER IX. JAMES WEST STACK'S STORY.

CHAPTER IX

We complete our pastoral visitation of the Peninsula by calling upon the Maoris at Akaroa, Wainui, Onuku, and Pigeon Bay.

On the arrival of the paddle-boat Geelong from Wellington, we took our passage to Akaroa and had a pleasant cruise round the Peninsula, looking into all the different bays as we passed along close to the shore. On reaching Akaroa we found Tamati Tikao, 28 with a large whaleboat, waiting to take us across to his kainga at Wainui, where we spent the best part of a week at his house. The beauty of the harbour, and the grandeur of the surrounding forest-clad hills and mountains, was a constant source of enjoyment to us. Unlike Port Levy, the Maori houses were built on a point overlooking the water, and were free from all offensive smells. The native bush grew close up to them on all sides, and the notes of singing birds were often in our ears, especially those of the makomako, our favourite songster, which, at that time,

was to be found everywhere on the Peninsula in large numbers.

We shall always remember our stay in Wainui for two things in particular – one agreeable and the other the reverse. The agreeable one was the discovery of a beautiful little cove on the Wainui beach, completely secluded from all prying eyes by dense growth of trees and underwood, where my wife and I had our daily sea bathe in the clear water which flowed over hard, white sand.

The disagreeable incident was connected with a pannikin, which my wife had brought with her for the express purpose of preventing any Maori from touching the vessel she drank out of. She caught "Spun Yarn," the half-witted runaway cook's-mate, who waited on us, cleaning her pannikin with a piece of old moleskin trousers, and he seemed quite surprised that Mata objected to his wiper. "Was it not a piece of a European garment?" It took a good deal of rubbing with sand, at our bathing place, and much rinsing with water, before the pannikin was restored to its usual place on my wife's waist belt, where alone she could be sure that it was safe from defilement.

Mr. Walter Buller arrived while we were at Wainui, to attend the meeting of Maoris gathered at Onuku, on the opposite side of the harbour, and arrange with them for the subdivision of the reserves at Wainui, Onuku and Little River.

I went to the meeting to act as chaplain, and found quite 150 Maoris assembled. Many were there from Kaiapoi and other places outside Banks Peninsula. The

local Maoris had erected a long shed for the accommodation of their visitors, one end of which was assigned to my wife and myself and Mr. Buller. The floor was covered with matting made with the green leaves of flax, and on these mats the Maoris reclined and smoked and talked most of the day, and slept at night. I got some straw and fresh leaves put under our mats to prevent our feeling the hardness of the ground when sitting or lying down.

Onuku was noted for its crayfish, of which a large number were caught and kept in store for consumption by the expected visitors. At every meal for two whole days we had crayfish as our chief dish. At first we ate freely of them, for we all liked them. But after our third meal we began to suffer from headaches, which grew worse and worse after every additional meal. On mentioning the fact to our hosts, they said: "Oh, headache is known to be the invariable consequence of a long-continued diet of crayfish."

On Saturday afternoon the vicar of Akaroa, the Rev. William Aylmer, called upon us and kindly invited my wife and myself to spend a day or two with them, an invitation which we gladly accepted. My dear wife had come to the conclusion that staying in Maori houses, however hospitably treated by the inmates, was an experience to be avoided rather than sought for. Mr. Aylmer was an enthusiastic gardener and lover of nature, and perfectly revelled in the contemplation of the natural beauties of the place he lived in, and was quite delighted to find that we shared his feelings and tastes, and could appreciate the value and beauty of the different things

he drew our attention to while walking round his beautiful grounds.

Mr. and Mrs. James Rattray were staying with the Aylmers while we were there. Mrs. Rattray was a daughter of the Aylmers, and was one of the young ladies I met on my first visit to the Sinclairs. On hearing that we contemplated visiting Dunedin shortly, the Rattrays kindly invited us to stay with them – an invitation we gladly accepted.

From Akaroa we rode to Pigeon Bay. There was only a horse track open between the two places, and that, in many parts, was in very bad order. Being overshadowed by forest trees most of the way, it never got quite dry. The horse traffic wore holes a foot or more in depth, which always contained water wherever the track was steep, and the horses had to use violent exertion to keep their footing.

We managed to secure a couple of stout ponies from old Waeckerle, 29 the German publican who carried the mails. The ponies were known as the Coco breed, after their sire, who possessed a good reputation all over Canterbury. They were guaranteed quiet and surefooted, but I often feared for the safety of my wife when we were going down or ascending the worst parts

of the track. She managed, however, to keep her balance well, and gained great praise from old Waeckerle, who accompanied us, for her coolness and courage.

Towards evening we reached the Sinclairs. 30 The dear old lady gave my wife as warm-hearted a reception as she accorded to me at our first meeting. Only Annie and Harriet were at home. The Gays were at their own house half a mile off. Mrs. Robinson and her boy were away visiting friends, and Frank was on the station at the North Head.

We spent the best part of a week with Mrs. Sinclair, whom we found a most enchanting hostess. She was delighted to discover that my wife knew Edinburgh so well, and they enjoyed long talks about it and its notable people. I was glad to find my wife as charmed with Annie as I had been at first sight. Though brought up from childhood in the secluded little bay in which her home stood, shut out from all intercourse with companions of her own age and sex, and with nobody to speak to but the members of her own family, it was astonishing to find what an interest she took in everything going on in the world, and how wide and varied her interests were, and what a fund of information she had acquired on most topics that cropped up in the course of conversation.

When our agreeable visit came to an end we were glad to find that Captain Gay was going to Lyttelton with us. However experienced might be Moses Barton, who carried the mails, a trip along the coast in an open boat

where we were exposed to the ocean swells and the full force of any wind that might be blowing, was not to be lightly undertaken, and it was reassuring to know that the old sea captain's advice and assistance would be available in any case of need. The sail to Lyttelton, however, was safely accomplished, and we reached the wharf in time to get over the hills to Christchurch and catch the one-horse tax-cart which plied between Christchurch and Kaiapoi.

We were very glad to get back to our own little home, and my dear wife said, though she did not regret her late experiences during our visits to the Maori kaingas, she never wished to repeat them. It was agreed between us that I should in future go alone to visit my flock on the Peninsula.

28 Tamati Tikao was one of the leading chiefs of the neighbourhood, and was amongst those who signed the deed of sale of Banks Peninsula to Captain Langlois on behalf of the French in 1838. He lived at Opukutahi, on the opposite side of the harbour to Akaroa. Both he and his wife Mairehe, were much respected by the Europeans. Their son, Hone Taara Tikao, J.P., who lived at Rapaki, was well versed in Maori history and customs. (L. J. Vangioni.)

In his 1860 Report to Synod, Stack pays a fine tribute to Tamati Tikao and his wife, who conducted a small school of thirteen boys and girls, at Wairewa. "For nearly a year," he wrote, "they have boarded and taught these children, receiving nothing from the parents but unkind words." (Stack MS. in the Turnbull Library.)

29 Jacob Waeckerle arrived in Akaroa in August 1840, being one of six Germans who were among the original French settlers, and who settled in the locality which became known as German Bay. Waeckerle, a locksmith by trade, was at various times engaged in pit-sawing, butchering, besides owning the first flour mill in Canterbury. Monseignor Belligny, the leader of the French emigrants, on returning to France sold his cattle and horses to the German. Amongst the stock was an entire horse named Coco, whose progeny were famed throughout Canterbury. Mounted on Coco, Waeckerle carried the mail from Akaroa to the outlying parts of the peninsula. In 1842 he married Marie Judith Eteveneaux, a daughter of one of the French settlers. Waeckerle's hotel, which he conducted for many years, passed later into the hands of his son-in-law, Robert Bayley. Waeckerle was mayor of Akaroa from 1878 to 1880, and died at Akaroa in 1901.

30 For further information concerning the Sinclairs see More Adventures.

CHAPTER X. JAMES WEST STACK'S STORY.

CHAPTER X

After a journey along the roadless shores of Lakes Forsyth and Ellesmere, I am benighted and hospitably entertained by "Happy Jack" and his wife.

In the autumn of 1862 I was returning from a pastoral visit to the Maoris residing on Banks Peninsula, and had reached Little River, which I congratulated myself would be the last stopping place amongst them on my homeward journey. Much as I liked and enjoyed being with my Maori friends, I could not conform to their habits of life for many days together without suffering from a variety of unpleasant disorders. The hospitable custom of the people, which obliged them to set before a welcome guest their choicest delicacies, obliged the guest to eat unsparingly of whatever food was set before him; profusion was the measure of Maori hospitality, and consumption the measure of its appreciation.

For three whole weeks I had been trying to please my kind-hearted entertainers by eating as much as I could of the rich and indigestible things which they provided in such quantities for me, and my overtaxed powers of digestion were beginning to protest in a very painful way against the extra work put upon them.

But now my duty feasting was over for a time, and I felt that, without disloyalty to my generous hosts I

could allow my imagination to dwell upon the treat in store for me at my next meal, which I expected would be in an English friend's house, where I was certain to get the kind of food I craved for, served up in a cleanly way.

To ensure reaching my destination before nightfall I arranged to leave Little River at an early hour in the morning. But it was past midday before I got clear of the place. When the farewells were over with the crowd of friends who gathered to see me off, and I had got some distance away from the village, I was stopped, in the tall flax through which I was passing, by one person after another who wished to have a private talk with me and who adopted this inconvenient but usual Maori plan to secure it. Each interviewer seemed bent on keeping me listening as long as possible, and any exhibition of impatience on my part would have been thought very unbecoming the "father of the people." I had to put a good face on things, and look cheerful and interested, in spite of the fact that the sunny hours of the short autumn day were speeding to a close before I had begun my long homeward ride through a roadless country.

I parted with my last interviewer at the head of Lake Forsyth, 31 and spent the next two hours leading my stumbling horse over the large flat stones which strewed the

shore, and kept tilting up on end whenever the horse or I failed to keep step exactly in the middle.

But there was quite enough of interest along the lakeside to repay me for all the vexatious hindrances to rapid travelling which I met with there. The views both up and down the lake were strikingly beautiful, and every now and then, on turning a headland, a lovely valley would appear on my right hand, surrounded by high hills covered from summit to base with forest trees, and displaying all the varied charms of the best woodland scenery. From near and far the mingled notes of countless birds, attracted to the spot by the ripening pine berries, fell upon my ear, the harsh cry of the kaka and the sweet notes of the bell-bird being the most conspicuous sounds amongst them. Here and there a wood pigeon might be seen crossing the valley or dropping down suddenly into the trees; or a flock of green parrakeets, startled by the sound of approaching footsteps, would rise from the ground; or a tui would dart by with rustling wing.

On nearing the south end of the lake I saw the largest collection of waterfowl that I have ever come across. It looked as if all the birds in the country were congregated there. Acres of water appeared to be covered with grey and paradise ducks, and teal; and close to them countless numbers of redbills, stilts, rails and swamp hens were wading about in the shallows or standing in rows along the shore. A stationary patch of pure white, in the midst of them, marked where a solitary crane stood.

It is sad to think that not only has that teeming bird life which peopled the woods and waters of Banks Penin-

sula been driven away or exterminated, but that nearly everything in the shape of indigenous plant life has also been destroyed. What was once a botanical garden of Nature's own planting, and of exquisite beauty, and full of all but the rarest kinds of New Zealand forest trees, shrubs, ferns and palms, is now completely destroyed. We may be sure that the naturalist of the future will deplore the loss of so rich a field for research, rendered historically memorable by the visit paid to it by Dr. Solander, Captain Cook's scientific companion.

After getting clear of the rough shore of the lake, and out upon the shingle bank which forms the barrier between it and the sea, I remounted my horse and attempted to quicken my pace. But the loose shingle, overgrown with rough creepers and stunted bushes, and rendered very uneven by the rootings of wild pigs, prevented my doing so, and I had to resume a walking pace which I hardly once got out of for the rest of the day.

On reaching Lake Ellesmere I found that it was too full to allow of my taking any short cuts, and I was therefore obliged to go round every indentation of its coastline and every swamp adjoining it. The path by which I went along the lake was little better than a muddy drain, in which my horse was continually in danger of being bogged. It produced a sensation akin to nightmare to find, after making the long circuit of one swamp after another, that I was very little farther along my road than when I began to go round, all the indentations being deep but narrow.

I advanced so slowly that the sun had set before I reached the hills at the head of Lyttelton Harbour.

When I found myself once more on a dry track, I hoped to make up for lost time, and started off at a canter. I had not gone far before my horse put its foot into a hole and, stumbling forward, nearly pitched me out of the saddle. After that I thought it safer to resume a walking pace.

As the darkness deepened around me it seemed as if my destination, instead of getting nearer, was getting farther and farther away. The wind blowing up from the harbour was piercingly cold, and the light overcoat I wore afforded very little protection from it. Benumbed with cold and tired out by my wearisome journey, I gave up the idea of reaching Lyttelton and turned my horse's head in the direction of the Maori village at Rapaki, intending to spend the night in John Wesley's 32 house, where I had often stayed before. But while passing a small raupo hut at the entrance to the village, the owner came out to see who was passing by at that late hour, and, recognising me, at once invited me to dismount and stay with him.

I could not say that I preferred to go elsewhere without giving great offence, because Maori custom conferred upon the first inhabitant to meet a traveller entering a village the right to make that man his guest. Besides, the person who accosted me was the Church of England lay reader, his wife being a lady of high rank, the sister of the chief man of the place, and to have refused their hospitality would have been regarded as a gross insult.

So I yielded to the inevitable and handed my horse over to "Happy Jack" (so called by Europeans on account of his habitual cheerfulness), who, true to his instinctive Maori sense of hospitality, called to his wife to rouse herself and prepare some food at once for their white guest.

Stooping down on all fours, I crept into the little hut, which was about eight feet square, with side walls about five feet high. A wood fire was burning on the middle of the clay floor, the smoke from which escaped by a hole in the roof, but sufficient remained behind to produce a stinging sensation in my eyes, and to account for the jet black colour of the interior of the hut, and the blood-shot eyes of both its occupants.

My hostess was a tall, powerful looking woman, with a thick mop of tousled iron-grey hair. Her features, in spite of their grimness, and the inflamed state of her eyes, were rather prepossessing, and although clad in an assortment of dirty rags, she greeted me with all the cordiality and dignity becoming a Maori lady. She apologised for the absence of chairs, and begged me to sit down on a seaman's chest, the only article suitable for the purpose which the whare contained, and warm myself while she prepared something for me to eat.

I took her advice, and watched her proceedings with considerable interest. The first thing she did was to produce from a dark corner what looked like a tin teapot with two spouts, into which she introduced wicks, and filled the pot with evil-smelling shark oil; then she put her fingers into the pot and drew the wicks backwards and forwards till they were thoroughly saturated, when

she lit the lamp and hung it upon a hook depending from the roof. Turning round, she drew towards her a large Maori basket containing a variety of things, and took from amongst them a tin pannikin, which she began polishing with a dirty rag and ashes taken from the hearth, which, I noticed, she and her husband used as their spittoon. By the time the pannikin was polished the movement of the lid showed that the water in the kettle was boiling. The old lady thereupon commenced rummaging about again in the Maori basket and drew forth a dirty looking little bag, which she filled with tea, and after tying the neck of it with a piece of string, the end of which she kept hold of, she dropped the bag into the kettle and kept it there until she thought the infusion strong enough, and then withdrew it. She then asked me to get off the chest, as it was wanted for a table. Upon the chest she proceeded to place the polished pannikin, a tin plate and a very dirty iron spoon, a dab of rancid butter in a pot labelled "Holloway's Ointment," and a lot of crusty fragments of baker's bread wrapped up in a piece of newspaper.

When everything was ready for me, my host and his wife assumed a devout attitude, to intimate that I could now say grace and begin my meal. On closer acquaintance with the bread I discovered that it had been handled a good deal with greasy fingers, so I took the precaution of toasting before attempting to eat any of it. My first mouthful of tea I could hardly swallow, on account of its disagreeable taste and smell. On looking into the pannikin I saw the cause of this, for the surface of its contents was covered with oil globules, which had

evidently dropped from the old lady's fingers after adjusting the lamp wicks. I succeeded in skimming most of them off with the iron spoon, and after adding an extra quantity of sugar I swallowed the mixture in one draught. My hosts, seeing that I did not touch the butter, became very uneasy because I had no "relish" to take with my bread; and they began to question one another about the remaining contents of their larder.

"Of course," said the wife, "I ought to have remembered that a white man cannot make a meal without meat. There is that piece of sheep's flesh in the basket hanging outside on the ngaio tree; fetch it for him."

The basket was brought in forthwith, and from it was taken the remains of a leg of mutton from which nearly all the meat had been removed, and what remained hung about the bones in strings as if torn by cats' teeth. It looked exactly like the poisoned baits which I had seen used by the shepherds on a neighbouring sheep run for the destruction of wild dogs. It looked so disgusting that I could not help asking my hosts the rude question how it came into their possession.

"Oh," was the reply, "a lot of white people came from Lyttelton and had a picky-nicky here yesterday; and after they went away we collected the remains of their feast."

I made some lame excuse for not displaying the white man's usual appetite for flesh, and confined my attention to the toasted crusts. When I had finished eating, my old friends lighted their pipes and began questioning me about my recent visit to their relations on the Peninsula, and continued talking until after midnight. I began to

fear that they meant to continue doing so till morning, as there was not room enough in the hut for three of us to lie down at full length. After spending many hours in the saddle my back ached, and I longed to lie down.

I was beginning to feel quite faint when, to my relief, the old man, producing a large key, asked me to follow him to his brother-in-law's storehouse, where I was to sleep. Carrying the oil lamp in one hand and the key in the other, he went out, and I followed. A few steps brought us to the storehouse, a newly made wattle and daub building, which felt like an icehouse on entering. The clay walls and floor were still quite soft and wet.

The old man took a new pair of blankets out of a box and spread them upon a wide bunk fixed to the end of the house. The bottom consisted of flattened-out kerosene tins joined together at the edges with wire, which made so much noise whenever I moved that I could not get to sleep, and I was kept moving a good deal by whole armies of fleas which, in spite of the new blankets, continued marching over me and leaving traces of their presence on every part of my body. I tossed about uneasily upon my noisy bed until it was light enough to see my clothes, when I got up and dressed.

I had great difficulty in persuading my host, after awaking him, to saddle my horse and allow me to get away before the village was astir. Both he and his old wife were very distressed to find me so determined to go away without another meal under their roof. In their kind old hearts they had resolved to make amends for the poor fare given to me the night before, and meant to procure from their neighbours everything which they

thought necessary to make the next meal agreeable to a white man's taste. They tried to delay my departure, and to gain their object, by ringing the chapel bell and summoning the people to morning prayer, and they seemed quite scandalised by my objecting to their doing so. I felt too unwell to undergo the fatigue of interviewing everybody in the village, which I knew from past experience was what I should be required to do if it once became known that I was there. I therefore resisted the well-meant efforts of my hospitable hosts to detain me and succeeded in reaching the main road without being seen by anyone else.

Only those who have passed through similar experiences can realize my sensations when I found myself seated, after a bath and change of clothes, at a table where everything was clean and enticing to the appetite. A few nights' rest between clean sheets, and undisturbed by biting bedfellows, made me fit and willing to resume my visits amongst my Maori friends.

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MRS. JAMES WEST STACK
Miss Eliza R. J. Jones arrived in New Zealand with her brother Humphrey in 1857, and was married to J. W. Stack in 1861. Prior to her marriage she travelled extensively in the North Island, and her journals, written up at the time, were fortunately preserved in MS. form by the family, and are now, after four score years, published for the first time.

31 Lake Forsyth has remained a native reserve for game, and in accordance with the terms of the Treaty of Waitangi none but Maoris are entitled to fish and shoot there. The lake abounds with eels, many thousands of which are caught and dried every season, when the Maoris camp at the outlet in great numbers. Closer settlement, and the destruction of the bush on the neighbouring hills, have pitifully reduced the myriads of birds seen by Stack. Parrakeets, kakas and pigeons have all but disappeared. After the first shots of the season are heard on the neighbouring Lake Ellesmere, however, thousands of ducks and other waterfowl may still be seen at Lake Forsyth, whither they have sought sanctuary. (Louis J. Vangioni.)

32 "John Wesley," whose Maori name was Teone Tahea, was a member of the Ngatihuirapa tribe, a preacher, and greatly respected by the Canterbury Maoris. He lived at Rapaki for many years, but during the late period of his life at Tuturau, near Mataura. (L. J. V.)

BOOK II. MRS. STACK'S JOURNALS OF THE FIFTIES AND SIXTIES.

BOOK II

MRS. STACK'S JOURNALS OF THE FIFTIES AND SIXTIES

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ELIZA RACHEL JEAN STACK

Born: 19th February, 1829. Married J. W. Stack, 28th January, 1861. Died: 2nd December, 1919.

The writer of the graphic pen-pictures of early New Zealand life and travel that follow – Eliza R. J. Stack – was the youngest daughter of Humphrey Jones, of Llynon, Anglesea, and was born in Edinburgh. Though she actively completed a full tale of nine decades, she was so frail and tiny at the time of her premature birth that for weeks she was kept wrapped up in cotton wool.

Her father died in 1841, and within a year she had also lost her mother. For some time the girl lived with relatives at Edinburgh, where she numbered amongst her friends the De Quincys and the Stevensons. Her elder sister married Alan Stevenson, uncle of "R. L. S." Later Eliza lived with her brother Frank, a curate, first at Elland and afterwards at Stockwell, London. There she was stricken with typhus fever. Her recovery was considered hopeless, and on the third Sunday she was not expected to last through the day. On the return of her brother from his duty at the church where fervent and, it appeared, effectual prayers had been offered for her, he was met by the nurse with the message, "She lives, and will recover." When convalescent she went to reside

with her married sister, Cassie (Mrs. Captain Wyllie), at Ellerslie, near Barnstaple, where she settled down happily until an unexpected turn of events changed the tranquil current of her life.

In 1856, at the close of the Crimean War, Eliza's brother, Humphrey (later Deputy Commissary-General Humphrey Jones, C.B.), returned to England. He had recently lost his wife by death, and, being ordered to New Zealand, he invited his sister to accompany him and keep house for him in the far away country. As it had always been her desire to travel, and accounts which she had heard and read had aroused her particular interest in New Zealand, the proposal was welcomed. They sailed from Gravesend on 13th April, 1857, and arrived at Auckland on 5th August.

At the close of the same year her brother was married to a mutual friend, Emma Buchanan, a fellow-passenger on the voyage out in the Dinapore. Humphrey and his wife warmly invited Eliza to share their home, and this she did to the satisfaction of all concerned. The new conditions, however, afforded her much greater freedom, and she availed herself of the opportunity of seeing as much of the country as possible during the next few years; in fact, she seems to have been more often travelling and visiting than at home.

Her first recorded expedition was a leisurely holiday trip by native canoe to Waiheke Island, early in 1858, in company with Humphrey and his wife.

Very shortly afterwards she joined a party of friends – William Swainson (Attorney-General) and Captain and Mrs. Montressor-Smith – in a visit to the Waikato,

where they enjoyed a brief stay with Rev. B. Y. Ashwell at his mission station.

About the middle of the same year she travelled down the coast in a small cutter to Tauranga, on a visit to Archdeacon A. N. Brown, where a month was spent, followed by a month at Maketu with the Chapmans. From Maketu she set out with a few others across country to the Hot Lakes, including, of course, the ill-fated Pink and White Terraces. Retracing their steps to Maketu, they returned to Auckland by the overland route, in company with Carl Volkner, who was martyred a few years later. On the way the Waikato river was again traversed, and it was during this part of the journey that she visited Dr. Maunsell's mission station and met for the first time his assistant, James West Stack – a meeting which was to have a romantic sequel. This series of visits and journeys occupied a period of about four months.

After spending a few months in Auckland, Miss Jones, in March, 1859, visited Wellington with her brother and his wife, Bishop Abraham being a fellow-passenger. Some weeks were spent at Wellington, during which she was present at the Consecration of Bishop Williams. Here, also, new friendships were formed, and the town and outlying districts explored. Crossing the straits, they spent two or three weeks at Nelson before returning to Auckland, arriving at Onehunga on 26th May, after three days ploughing through heavy seas.

After a month or so spent at home, she once again set out on her travels. This time she went by cutter to the East Coast, at the invitation of Bishop Williams, paying

an extended visit to his mission station at Turanga (Gisborne).

On her return to Auckland, after an absence of a year almost to the very day, she found an important letter awaiting her from James W. Stack, who had, at the request of Bishop Harper, gone down to Christchurch to devote himself to the Canterbury Maoris. As a result of this letter and further correspondence the couple became engaged, and the marriage took place on 28th January, 1861. The union appears to have been an ideal one, and lasted for nearly sixty years. About forty years was spent in ministering to Maori and European in Canterbury, and the last twenty years or so in retirement in Italy and England, where, at Worthing, Mrs. Stack died, a few weeks after her husband, on 2nd December, 1919, in her ninety-first year. Some further reference to their married life may be read in a memoir prefixed to a previous volume – Early Maori land Adventures of J. W. Stack.

During her early life in New Zealand prior to her marriage and for a short time following it – from 1857 to 1861 – Miss Jones kept a journal, a copy of which comprises three bulky volumes. These journals are full of incident and unfailing interest, and are written with literary skill. The portions selected for inclusion in Book II of the present publication are the story of her arrival and early days at Auckland, an expedition by canoe around Waiheke Island, a journey to the Waikato and an extended visit to Bishop Williams at Poverty Bay in 1859-1860. It is hoped that it may be possible to issue a subsequent volume containing other equally interesting pages of Miss Jones's journal.

PART I. I ARRIVE IN NEW ZEALAND

PART I

I ARRIVE IN NEW ZEALAND

Shortly after my brother Humphrey returned from the Crimea, at the close of the Russian War, he was ordered by the War Office to proceed to New Zealand to undertake the charge of the Military Commissariat in that country.

It had always been the dream of my life to visit distant lands, and especially New Zealand, the home of cannibal people, the recital of whose ferocious deeds had so excited my childish imagination; and I longed to see with my own eyes the results of the work done by the heroic men and women who had been living out there for more than thirty years.

Having gladly accepted my brother's invitation to accompany him, we sailed from Gravesend on 13th April, 1857, in a large sailing ship called the Dinapore. Beside ourselves, the passengers consisted of a brother-officer of Humphrey's, and Dr. B. 33 and his large family.

The voyage was long and tedious, and not marked by any striking incidents. We reached Auckland on 5th August, and were boarded outside the Heads by the pilot, Captain Rough.

As we entered the harbour we greatly admired its beautiful coastline. On our left rose the shapely volcanic cone of Rangitoto, covered with vegetation from base to summit. On the right stood the Flagstaff Hill, with pohutukawa trees growing along the edge of the cliffs, almost at right angles to their precipitous sides. As we rounded the Heads we saw a stretch of water like a broad river extending for miles and miles both ahead and astern of us. The town of Auckland was visible about three miles away on the left-hand side. As we approached it we passed several small bays, in each of which stood picturesque wooden houses. The passengers amused themselves by appropriating for their future use, in imagination, any of these which struck their fancy. One which particularly attracted my brother and myself was a large bungalow, with French windows opening on to a verandah, standing a short way back from the shore, the intervening space between the house and the beach being laid out as a garden. Huge willow trees flanked one side of the property, and a steep, fern-clad ridge the other. "That shall be ours," we said, never thinking for a moment that we should be so fortunate as to secure it.

As soon as the anchor was dropped my brother and the rest of the gentlemen passengers went on shore to look for quarters. On their return they brought back with

them fresh loaves of baker's bread, and fresh butter and eggs – for all of which we were longing very much. Humphrey presented me with an enormous bunch of beautiful flowers.

"Wherever did you get these?" I asked.

"From your own garden," he replied. "I have secured that house we so much admired from the deck of the ship. It is to be your first New Zealand home. It is furnished and ready for us to occupy at once."

It was not many hours before we found ourselves comfortably settled in St. George's Bay, where we began our colonial life under most favourable circumstances. The house belonged to a gentleman named Blackett, who had gone to England and was not expected back for some time. We found it commodious and well furnished, and so escaped the usual discomforts of newcomers, who generally have to put up with inferior accommodation until a house can be built for them.

The large flower garden was beautifully laid out, and contained a splendid assortment of flowers, many of which we had only seen in English conservatories, and the air was always filled with the fragrance of their delicious perfume. There was a good orchard and kitchen garden, giving every promise of abundance of fruit and vegetables.

I had a most startling and disagreeable experience the morning after our arrival. I went to call on Dr. B.'s family, who were lodging in a house not far from us, on the ridge between our bay and the next. Just as I reached their garden gate a big dog caught hold of my skirts with his teeth, and before I knew what had hap-

pened I was stripped of my lower garments. Fortunately my cry for help was heard, the dog was called off, and I escaped into my friends' house, where the damage done to my clothes was soon repaired. But I felt very shaky for some time afterwards.

MY FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF AUCKLAND IN '57

The town of Auckland, when we first saw it, appeared to us very small, and the main streets rather mean-looking thoroughfares. The suburbs were spread out over a wide extent of the surrounding country, but the houses were few and far between. The only stone buildings we saw were the soldiers' barracks, built of black scoria, which gave them a very forbidding appearance. The same stone was used for roadmaking, and proved very destructive to our shoes. There were no green fields to be seen anywhere, and the colour of the landscape reminded one of a Scotch moorland when the heather is in bloom.

Auckland was then the capital of New Zealand, and the residence of the Governor and the principal civil and military officials. It was also the centre of Church life, from which Bishop Selwyn directed the work being carried on amongst the Maoris, the English settlers, and the Melanesian islanders. The concentration in one place of so many educated and refined people produced the most agreeable social conditions; the utmost harmony prevailed everywhere, and all treated one another as if

members of the same family. These good people were so kind to us from the first that we never felt like strangers amongst them. We became so attached to many of them that we felt it was worth the voyage to New Zealand to make their acquaintance.

The part of the town which most interested us at first was the native market, in Mechanics Bay, where such strange things were seen and heard that we could not help realising that we were in a foreign land. The Government had erected a building close to the beach for the use of the Maoris, and numbers of them were always to be seen squatting on the ground outside it, or busily loading or unloading their canoes. These Maoris supplied the town with vegetables, fruit, fish and firewood, and their canoes might be seen passing up and down the harbour at all hours of the day. They were strange looking craft, varying in length from thirty to sixty feet. The sails were triangular, and fastened base uppermost, one to each mast. A canoe carried from one to three, according to its length. When no sails could be used, paddles were employed, and it was very interesting to watch the movements of the paddlers whenever two or more canoes were close together. With loud cries the steersman every now and then would urge his crew to try and outstrip the others. In perfect time the paddles on either side of each canoe would be driven into the water and withdrawn, to be driven in again with ever increasing rapidity until the breathless Maoris were compelled to stop from sheer exhaustion. When sufficiently recovered, the race would be renewed, again and again, till the shore was reached. Then the hubbub began in real earnest. Men and women alike commenced shout-

ing directions to each other at the top of their voices. The men, with little or no clothing on, would jump into the water and, seizing the sides of the canoe, would drag it up on the beach, above high water mark. The women then stepped out and helped to carry the firewood, or baskets of potatoes, or fish, or whatever the cargo consisted of, up to the market house close by.

The women looked very odd moving about without any covering on head or foot. Some had the upper part of their brown bodies bare, the lower part being covered by a short skirt reaching to the knees.

After much noisy discussion the Maoris went off in parties of twos and threes to hawk their fish and fruit, and the cry of "Peese Oh! Peese Oh!" resounded in all directions. When asked the price the usual reply was "Herren" or "Hikypen." The letter "S" they could not sound, as it does not exist in their language. At first sight the Maoris did not present a very attractive appearance. They were untidy and unkempt, and very rough and noisy. But when we got to know them better we became very fond of them; for we discovered that beneath their rough exterior they possessed many admirable qualities and were at heart a very kind people.

Not many days after settling down at St. George's Bay we discovered, while walking along the beach at low water, that the rocks within a hundred yards of our garden were covered with delicious oysters. As we were both very fond of them, Humphrey soon procured the proper knives for opening them. We often used to go down to the rocks to feast on oysters, taking with us a supply of bread and butter, with vinegar and pepper.

We afterwards learned that all the rocks everywhere about the harbour and the Gulf of Hauraki were covered in the same way, and that oyster picnics were an institution of the country.

I BECOME ACQUAINTED WITH AUCKLAND AND ITS PEOPLE

Our chief amusement during the first few weeks after our arrival was sailing about the harbour and gulf in the pretty little yacht which Humphrey had hired with the house. It was always anchored opposite the garden gate, which opened on to the beach, and all we had to do when we wanted a sail was to walk down the garden and hail the man in charge, who brought the dinghy and took us aboard.

We should have been a much longer time discovering the beauties of Auckland Harbour and its vicinity had it not been for the kind assistance of our nearest neighbour, Mr Swainson, 34 the Attorney-General. He lived in the adjoining bay to us, called Taurarua, in the sweetest cottage imaginable, with lovely tree ferns and native shrubs of all kinds growing about it, and lovely scented roses covering the trellis work in front.

Mr. Swainson had a rowing boat of his own, which was pulled by his Maori servant, Moses, who was always dressed in a spotless white uniform, like a man-of-war

sailor. Mr. Swainson usually went to his office in town by boat, and was always glad when he could get us to make use of it. Hearing me express a wish to try a Maori canoe, he one day took me across the harbour in one, paddled by three Maoris. I got a lesson in paddling as we went along, but it was hard work, and I found it much more agreeable to recline at full length on a couch of fresh bracken at the bottom of the canoe. I was much amused by the efforts of the Maoris to teach me some words of their language, especially the words they sang to keep time while paddling.

On landing we walked up the Flagstaff Hill to enjoy the view. I found it very steep, and my boots so slippery, but one of the Maori women came to my assistance and, to the amusement of my English companions, put one of my arms round her own neck and, clasping me round the waist, supported me up to the top of the hill. She exhibited to us the horrid way the natives turn their eyelids inside out when rushing upon their enemies in battle. One of the men went through some of the movements of the war dance. It struck me as curious that, whilst the missionaries have got the war dance abolished, owing to its exciting and degrading influence upon the natives, their Christian countrymen were always wanting the Maoris to show them what it was like. From what little I saw of it, the sooner it is lost sight of and forgotten, the better for everybody.

A few days after this visit to the North Shore, Mr. Swainson took Emma, Fanny and myself to the Three Kings to see the Maori school there and the celebrated caves. Mr. Swainson and Fanny rode, but Emma and

I occupied a dray, the only procurable vehicle. It was made as comfortable as possible with plenty of straw, and rugs and cloaks to sit upon. We jolted along the rough roads until we had passed Mount Eden, when we got out and walked along a narrow green lane, while the dray went round by the road. Suddenly we came in sight of distant blue wooded hills and the waters of Manukau Harbour, which reminded me of scenery on the Welsh coast. Close beside us rose the Three Kings hillocks, from which the place is named. In the small valley immediately below them we saw the school buildings and the master's house. Close to our right was the entrance to the caves, so covered and screened by ferns and trees that none but a practised eye could find it.

We proceeded straight to the school, through a paddock dotted with sheep. The appearance of this picturesque, peaceful spot, and the happy looking, neatly clad Maori boys whom we met, gave no suggestion of being in the "Cannibal Islands." Still less did the schoolroom, where we were warmly welcomed by the master, Mr Reid. 35 We saw a number of intelligent looking boys and girls, as neat and orderly as any to be found in an English school, and their quickness would put many an English child to shame, especially in arithmetic, for which they showed extraordinary aptitude; questions in mental arithmetic were scarcely put before they were answered, and difficult sums in fractions and proportion were cor-

rectly worked out in a wonderfully short time. Their reading of English quite impressed us, especially their successful rendering of the letter "S," which Maoris find so difficult to pronounce. They wound up by singing several hymns in a manner that touched my feelings very much, for it was impossible to rid one's mind of the thought that they were the children of parents who were once cannibals and now, by God's grace, one with us in faith and practice.

Having taken leave of Mr. Reid, we went to look at the caves. The entrance was very long and dark and damp, and heaps of human bones were lying all about. One could not help wondering how they came to be there, and thinking of the possible deeds of savagery which had taken place on the spot where we were peacefully resting. I thanked God in my heart for the change which had taken place in the land. Dr. Prendergast came in the evening and examined the ferns which Emma gathered at the caves, and named them for her.

The following day I went with Humphrey to call on Colonel and Mrs. Wynyard 36 at Government House, but I felt so tired and stiff from sitting in the jolting cart the day before that I hurried back and went early to bed.

I was not sorry to find it pouring with rain when I awoke next morning. It came down just as it did in the tropics. There was a high wind, too, but towards evening the sun shone out and it became quite calm. I found

the weather in this part of New Zealand quite unlike English weather, and much milder and pleasanter.

HUMPHREY'S MARRIAGE CHANGES MY PLANS

Something happened just about this time which quite upset all my plans, though it was what I had accustomed myself for a long time past to look forward to, and had done all in my power to bring about, and that was my dear brother Humphrey's marriage to my ship-board friend, Emma B. I was delighted to think that it would increase my brother's happiness, and felt sure that, in giving up the position of mistress of his household to one whom we both loved and esteemed, I was doing the right thing for them, however painful the surrender of the position might be to myself.

Humphrey was married on 1st December, 1857, just four months after our arrival in New Zealand. He was married by Bishop Selwyn in the little chapel of St. Stephen's, Taurarua; and Alec Clerk and Edith, Emma's sister, were married at the same time.

Freed from my household duties, and having nothing special to occupy my time and thoughts, I felt that it was necessary to my peace of mind that I should get some regular work to do; and I decided to consult my friend, Mrs. Kissling, about the matter. She was the wife of the clergyman in charge of the church nearest to us, which we usually attended. Her husband was formerly employed by the Church Missionary Society in Africa, where he was principal of the Fourah Bay College at

Sierra Leone. It was during his charge of it that Samuel Crowther, afterwards first Bishop of Nigeria, was a pupil at the College. Owing to the failure of his health, Mr. Kissling was sent out to New Zealand, and at the time of our arrival in the country he was principal of St. Stephen's School for Maori boys and girls, and Archdeacon of Auckland. 37

Mrs. Kissling advised me to take up parish work under her husband, which I did most willingly, having had plenty of experience of it while living with my brother Frank in his curacies in Yorkshire and London. I not only agreed to teach in the Sunday School, but to visit the "Home" and the sick at the hospital, and any persons in the parish that Mr. Kissling desired me to.

I AM PRESENT AT A CHRISTMAS FEAST AT ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE

On Tuesday, 22nd December, a bazaar was held in Auckland, and some of the stall-keepers enlisted our services on its behalf. For a fortnight we were all three kept busy working for it. My maid, Pemberton, made a very pretty little frock, which I sent to Mrs. Gore Browne's stall. It was much admired, and sold directly for thirty-two shillings. Emma and I met Humphrey in town during the afternoon, and together we paid a visit to the bazaar. The building was tastefully decorated with flags and flowers, and the stalls very nicely arranged. As we looked at the well-dressed ladies and the pretty faces of the sellers behind each stall, and listened to the

strains of the military band, we could have imagined ourselves in England – certainly anywhere but in the "Cannibal Islands." We heard that the bazaar realized six hundred pounds.

On Christmas Eve Emma went to a musical gathering at Government House, while Humphrey and I went into town for shopping. On our way back we called for her, and looked into St. Paul's Church as we passed. It was being decorated for Christmas Day. The tree-fern fronds looked beautiful in the niches of the church, but to us the crimson flowered pohutukawa but ill supplied the place of our dear English holly.

On Wednesday, 30th December, a gathering of the schools took place at St. John's College, about eight miles from town, where the Maori and English children, and their friends from St. Stephen's, were to meet the Melanesians. Mrs. Kissling had enlisted my services while making preparations for the feast, and invited me to be present at it. I was glad of the opportunity of seeing Mrs. Selwyn again, as I was greatly taken with her on my first interview, which took place at Mrs. Kingdon's.

I left home for the Kisslings before ten o'clock, and there I met a procession of seven carts and a huge waggon, besides many riders on horseback, and Mrs. Dover's phaeton. The vehicles were all tightly packed with men, women and children, to say nothing of the provisions. In spite of the rain all were looking happy and determined to enjoy themselves, and the bright faces and gay flags looked very inspiriting. While loading up

was taking place, Archdeacon Kissling and I walked ahead and were not overtaken until we were half way to the College. We got seats in the first cart which overtook us.

Immediately on arriving at St. John's there began the cutting up of the hundred loaves and four huge rounds of beef for the hungry party. Over two hundred persons were present. The twenty-nine Melanesians were at first very frightened, but when seated at a table by themselves, with two or three of us specially appointed to encourage and wait upon them, they soon entered into the spirit of the thing and proved that they had as good appetites as any of us, and were just as ready to enjoy themselves. They were from eight different islands in the New Hebrides, Loyalty and Solomon groups, and it was strange to see how different in appearance were the natives of each group. Some were like Negroes, others like Hindus; some had strange ornaments of wood sticking out of their noses, and with ears reaching down to their necks.

I liked what I saw of the Bishop and Mrs. Selwyn very much indeed. The Bishop told us that schools were the only hope for the future of this country, for the native Christian parents have not the power of imparting the knowledge they possess to others, and are incapable of managing their children properly.

When the time came for us to return to Auckland there was great crowding into the carts, as the rain came down in torrents. One poor half-caste girl was left behind. But the Bishop lent her his own horse, so she

returned in style. I was so tired when I got home that I went straight to bed.

During our frequent yachting expeditions in and out of Auckland Harbour, Humphrey and I became so charmed with the beauty of the little islands we came across in the Gulf of Hauraki that we often said to one another how delightful it would be to live on one of them. We repeated this so often to each other that at last Humphrey seriously entertained the idea of selling Llynon and purchasing one of the islands, settling his Welsh tenants upon it, with our brother Frank as chaplain.

We talked about what we called our "castle in the air" to our friend Mr. Swainson, who was much interested in the scheme. He told us that he knew the island of Waiheke very well, having often been there, and that he thought it would just suit our purpose. When we expressed a wish to visit the island he promised to take us there in a Maori canoe when the proper time of year arrived, to ensure our having calm weather for the trip. We waited impatiently for that time to come, not only because the proposed canoeing expedition seemed calculated to further our colonising scheme, but because we ourselves wanted to experience the delights of "bush" travelling, about which Mr. Swainson had so often spoken to us. We were confident in his ability as an experienced New Zealand traveller to direct all our movements. We knew that wherever we went with him amongst the Maoris we were sure of a welcome and would be treated as favoured guests, because Mr. Swainson's long connection with the Government of the

country, in the capacity of Attorney-General, had taught the Maoris to regard him as a great English chief, inferior only to the Governor and Judge. We congratulated ourselves upon our good fortune in being able to see a new part of the country under such distinguished guidance.

33 Doubtless Dr. Buchanan and his family, referred to subsequently in Miss Jones's Journals, and also by Stack in More Maoriland Adventures.

Later known as the Hon. Andrew Buchanan, he removed to Dunedin in the early sixties, but subsequently returned to England, and died in London in 1877. (Cyclopaedia of New Zealand.)

34 Hon. William Swainson (1809-1884). Appointed Attorney-General of New Zealand by Lord John Russell in 1841, and held office until 1856. First Speaker of Legislative Council 1854. Explored the North Island on foot accompanied by three Maoris. Author of New Zealand and Its Colonization and New Zealand and the War, in which he opposed the war with the Maoris. {Dict. Nat. Biog. and Cyclopaedia of New Zealand.)

35 The foundation stone of Three Kings College was laid by Sir George Grey in 1848, and in the following year Rev. Alexander Reid arrived from England to assume the duties of Principal. In the early days, some 150 Maori youths were in training at the institution. (Morley's History of Methodism in New Zealand. For Rev. Alexander Reid see index More Maoriland Adventures of J. W. Stack.)

36 Major-General Robert Henry Wynyard (1802-1864). Arrived in N. Z. in 1842 in charge of 58th Regiment. Made C.B. for services in first Maori war. Commander of the Forces in N. Z. 1851. Acting-Governor 1854-5. First Superintendent of the Province of Auckland. Returned to England 1858. Commander of Forces and Acting-Governor at Cape Colony 1856-1860. His widow and children returned to Auckland. (Dict. Nat. Biog. and Cyclopaedia of New Zealand.)

37 Archdeacon and Mrs. Kissling. See Early Maoriland Adventures and More Maoriland Adventures.

PART II. A WEEK ON THE HAURAKI GULF.

PART II

A WEEK ON THE HAURAKI GULF

The time chosen for the long anticipated canoeing expedition was during the month of February, 1858, and I had the great joy of hearing on my birthday, the 19th, that we were to start on the following Monday. Mr. Swainson came to tell us what things to take with us, and brought with him three of the Maoris he had engaged to accompany us, so that we might not be quite strangers when we met on Monday. Unfortunately, when Monday came it was too windy to think of starting, and we had to curb our impatience and wait as we best could till the following day, when the weather proved all that we could desire.

FIRST DAY

At two o'clock on Tuesday, 23rd February, our party, consisting of Humphrey and Emma, her sister Jenny, Mr. Swainson and myself, assembled on the beach in front of our garden gate, where we found a fine large canoe, called a pitau, waiting for us. It was about fifty feet long, five feet wide in the widest part, and four feet deep. It was painted a bright red colour, and the sides were ornamented with tufts of black and white feathers.

The figure-head was a grotesque representation of a human face, with a protruding tongue, and quantities of black feathers wrapped round the head to represent hair. The part assigned for our use was covered with a thick layer of fresh fern, upon which oilskins and rugs were spread, and upon these we reclined in luxurious ease.

Besides the crew of five men engaged to accompany us, there were a number of Maori women, who helped to paddle the canoe. As we pushed off from the beach we saw our servants, Douglas and Pemberton, who were left behind in charge of the house, looking half amused and rather amazed at our novel style of travelling.

One of the crew, whom we dubbed "Onion," was appointed Emma's special servant, but I was allowed to choose our old friend Moses for mine; they, with George and Robert, formed our staff of men-in-waiting. Onion was a curious character, full of fun, and so much given to grimace and action that he might have passed for a professional clown. He was a little man, with face tattooed all over, giving it the appearance of a flexible mask. Robert was a greater oddity still, a blundering, good-natured fellow whom we should have called at home a regular "Paddy." George, our waiter, was, next to Moses, the most civilised of our Maoris, understood our ways better than the others, and proved a very efficient helper.

The water of the harbour was smooth as glass, and we moved swiftly over its surface, in spite of the small number of our paddlers. We occupied ourselves chatting

and singing and, at intervals, regaling ourselves on Mr. Swainson's store of delicious fruit.

While rounding the point of Rangitoto Island we were startled and alarmed by a heavy wave striking the side of the canoe and pouring a quantity of water into it. The cause of the wave when the sea was so smooth, no one could tell; probably it was due to what was called a "tide rip." Fortunately it was the only wave we encountered, and when Onion, who was steering, called out "All right!" we felt reassured. Nothing further happened to excite our fears, and we were able, for the rest of the afternoon, to get our full enjoyment out of everything.

About half past four we reached Waiheke, and landed at the pa where old Moses had once lived and where his wife was buried. The whole population seemed to be gathered on the beach to meet us, and I was very much amused watching the strange way in which Maoris greet their friends. Onion's salutation of a female relative, who came forward with much eagerness to meet him, was most comical. He rubbed his face on hers for some time, and they muttered and made a low wailing noise together. We noticed that this mournful noise was louder when two women greeted one another; the wailing sounded more piteous and the rubbing of noses was more prolonged. This mode of salutation was always adopted, we were told, when friends have been separated for any length of time; and the muttering is a chant in which they tell each other all that has happened within the family since they last met.

Some of the women were hugging little pet pigs.

Others were busy scraping potatoes with pipi shells, but all looked jolly and happy.

We pitched our three tents on the rising ground above the village and got a beautiful view from where they stood. When everything was fixed up nicely in them, the fires made, and the potatoes roasted in the ashes, we settled ourselves down picnic fashion to enjoy our meal, and a scrambling meal we had. By a strange oversight the teapot had been forgotten. A muslin sleeve was cut up, made into a bag, the tea put into it, and then it was lowered with a piece of string into the boiling kettle, and withdrawn after a few seconds.

Jenny and I left the others talking over their plans when our meal was finished, and started for a stroll on the shore by moonlight. Before we had gone far, the native dogs, scenting strangers, flew out in a body, barking at us in a most alarming way. We gave the Maori call, when Robert came to the rescue and drove them away. We thought it wiser under the circumstances to return to our party and seek a reinforcement of numbers before going near the dogs again. Mr. Swainson then proposed to take us over the pa that we might have an opportunity of seeing the Maori at home.

We first peeped into a whare where a group of men and women were chattering away, among them George and Robert. Both came out and took us to see old Moses' whare, where we found him stretched out on an exalted sort of bedstead, formed with thin manuka sticks. Onion and several others were visiting him, and soon they began to show us the grimaces and gestures, and to utter some of the raucous sounds they make when going into battle

Onion's faces were frightful, and the way they all swayed their bodies, and kept time with the hideous sounds they gave utterance to, made one feel quite frightened, for it was clear enough what savages they must have been when they did in earnest what they were then doing in play. Good old Moses did not approve of such savage doings, and lay stretched out like a Sultan on his high platform, reading his Testament. He took no notice whatever of what was going on around him, and probably felt rather scandalised by his master and his friends tolerating such doings.

On getting back to our tents we ladies of the party had great fun over our bedding arrangements. We found it no easy matter getting into our blanket beds. Emma especially, being so tall, experienced great difficulty in getting into hers; but once in them we soon fell asleep.

And so ended our first day's experience in the bush – and a very happy one it was.

SECOND DAY

Next morning we were all up with the sun. We found dressing very difficult inside the tent, and a much longer process than usual. After breakfast we got into the canoe and seated ourselves upon our comfortable fern couch, where we employed our time reading and working and talking, as we felt most inclined, while the canoe glided along pleasantly within a short distance of the shore.

The coast scenery proved so beautiful that it soon engrossed all our attention, and we did little else but feast

our eyes upon the lovely scenery we were passing. At one moment our attention was directed to a charming little cove with a splendid overhanging tree; and the next to a lovely sandy beach, or to a wider bay surrounded by thickly wooded hills; or to a bay enclosed by barren hills destitute of any vegetation whatever.

Our view seawards was also constantly changing. Fresh islands and reefs and rugged rocks, with canoes moving in and out amongst them, kept coming into view. Across the waters of the gulf range on range of hills appeared, and in the blue distance beyond them rose the Coromandel Mountains, bounding the view in that direction. I was constantly reminded of Scotch and English lake scenery, and so was Mr. Swainson. But, of course, it was all on a larger scale, with the exception of the hills nearest to us, which were not so high and grand as Ben Nevis or Skiddaw.

About two o'clock we put into the prettiest little cove it is possible to conceive, where we had our lunch. While the kettle was boiling and potatoes roasting, we went into the bush and obtained some choice and beautiful ferns. Moses, bent on sport, could find nothing better than a poor "morepork" owl, which he shot, so we named the place "Morepork Cove."

On re-entering our canoe we proceeded along the coast, where fresh beauties were every moment revealed to us. About five o'clock in the afternoon we reached the place which Mr. Swainson had fixed upon for our next camping ground. The Maoris proved to be quite

a superior set to those with whom we stayed the previous night. Their chief was a man of high rank, and a good Christian; his people held him in the highest veneration, and showed their respect by calling him "Mister" Paul instead of the usual familiar manner of calling one another by the Christian name alone. He entirely disapproved of the war dance, and nothing would have induced any of his tribe – or even our own men while they were his guests – to give us an exhibition of it. He was a tall, powerful man, with a good open countenance and pleasing expression. He wore over everything a long purple sort of native cloak, called toi, made from the fibre of the mountain ti-palm.

Immediately on landing we met a pretty little English woman, the wife of a settler engaged in the timber trade, who pointed out to us with great pride a road which her husband had made into the finest piece of forest we have yet seen. The road was made to enable the timber to be brought down to the beach for shipment to Auckland.

We walked up the road until we met the bushmen returning from their day's labour. Some of them kindly offered to take us to the densest part of the forest in order that we might see a huge kauri tree. The remarkable thing about it was its immense height and great girth, and perfect straightness. Not a branch or a twig was to be seen below the topmost crown of the tree. We were told that one of the longest kauri spars sent from here to England was sixty feet long, but that from other forests in the Province spars one hundred feet long have

reached our naval dockyards. 38 When sawn into boards no knots or flaws of any sort are found in them, and it is that which makes kauri timber so suitable for ships' decks.

Mrs. Macaster, the sawyer's pretty wife, proved to be as kind as she was good-looking. She was quite distressed to find that milk was the only thing we stood in need of, and of that she gave us a plentiful supply.

When the tents were pitched, and while our evening meal was being prepared, we heard a bell rung, and on asking the reason for it, we were told that it was "Mister Paul's" practice to ring a bell night and morning to collect the people in his house for prayers. We joined those who, in obedience to the summons of the bell, were entering the chief's house. It was a strange sight which met our eyes. Half-naked men and women were squatting on the matted floor, in the middle of which a wood fire blazed. The persistency with which the dogs kept coming in, after being driven out, was rather distracting

to us, and reminded one of the tales told of Highland shepherds' dogs at the Sabbath gatherings in Scotland. The Maoris seemed very devout and followed the service, which was a translation of our English evensong. After prayers, Mrs. Paul, a tall, masculine looking woman, tattooed on the lips and chin, came forward to shake hands with us. I gave her a Maori New Testament, which pleased her very much, and wrote her name in it by her own request.

THIRD DAY

Emma was the first of our party to greet the sun; she went off somewhere to sketch, before breakfast. I waited until the meal was over, and then went alone as far as I could along the forest road till I reached a height from which I got a view without myself being seen. I never enjoyed anything in my life more than I did the quiet hour or two I spent there. My only living companions were the birds, of which the forest seemed to be full. They sang exquisitely and filled the air with sweet melody, whilst the scented, aromatic foliage of the trees and plants around filled it with fragrance. Looking over the tops of the trees I saw below me the pretty little bay where our camp stood, and the yellow sands of the beach, fringed by a narrow band of white foam where the sea touched it; and looking in another direction I saw the blue mountain ranges of Coromandel Peninsula in the distance. There was no sign around me of the presence of man, except the sound made by the strokes of an axe which told of the approaching fall of a giant of the forest.

It was delightful in the cool, crisp morning air to read and think of God's love, where I was surrounded by so many proofs of it, and when my whole being was filled with such an overpowering sense of the sweetness and loveliness of God's creation. Like Wordsworth I experienced that "serene and blessed mood in which, with an ear made quiet by the power of harmony and the deep power of joy, we see into the life of things."

I got back in time to have a chat with the Maoris before leaving what Mr. Swainson named "Emma's Delight." I remembered Bishop Selwyn's remarks to me about the importance of educating the children, and so I urged the mothers to send their children to the schools opened for them in Auckland and elsewhere.

We were all sorry when the time came to leave the beautiful spot where we had spent the night, but Mr. Swainson said it was necessary to do so if we meant to complete the circuit of the island before returning to Auckland. We re-embarked in our canoe about eleven o'clock, and as the wind was favourable the sail was hoisted, and we glided pleasantly along the coast. We enjoyed the sailing even more than we did the paddling the day before, as the motion was swifter and we were freed from the noise made by the paddles.

After rounding Waiheke we passed Finger Point about two o'clock, when we all became so hungry that we begged our leader to put into one of the pretty little coves for lunch. There we found shelter and seats under a large, wide-spreading tree, and did full justice to the delicious stew Mr. Swainson concocted for us. It was made of two fine fowls, and vegetables, and the necessary

condiments to give it a proper flavour. We named the spot "Go-ashore Cove," as that is the colonial name for the pot in which the stew was made.

After lunch we walked up the hill to a spot which commanded a lovely view, and while Humphrey and Emma sat down there to sketch, I went on a little farther, when I met a young English girl who had never seen an Englishwoman in that part of the island before. She was so startled by my unexpected appearance on the scene that she regarded me at first as an apparition; but we soon got on friendly terms together, for I soon discovered that she had been well taught and liked talking about the subjects I was most interested in. Presently we were joined by the rest of my party, when she took us all to her brother's house, which stood close to the place where the canoemen had been told to meet us. There we saw her mother and the rest of her family. They were most friendly and hospitable, and seemed ready to give us everything they had. We accepted from them a present of vegetables for our next stew in the "go-ashore." They seemed to feel very much the isolation of their position, and especially being cut off from all religious services. I promised to send Mrs. Cousins some books and papers as soon as I got back to Auckland; and we parted with regret from these good people, feeling thankful that it was not our lot to live so far away from Christian ordinances in the wilds of New Zealand.

On reaching the canoe we continued our course along the coast until we reached a place called Huruhi, where we pitched our camp for the night. Here we again

found a splendid piece of forest scenery, and the Maoris of the place were most kind and friendly. On landing we engaged a native to guide us into the forest. We found a well-formed road leading into the depths of it, with fine kauri trees growing on either side, and quantities of great logs lying about, ready for the saw mill. The tree ferns and nikau palms were most graceful, and gave the forest quite a tropical look. We found a great variety of small ferns, of which Emma and I procured some good specimens for our collections.

Taking a winding path which branched off from the main road, we climbed to the top of a hill, from which we obtained a splendid view, the beauty of which words fail me to describe. Looking towards Auckland we saw a long stretch of the mainland, with its numerous volcanic cones dotted about, and its indented coastline. Away to the eastward lay the ocean, stretching away to the horizon. Turning in another direction our eyes ranged over the forest lands spread out beneath us, and the graceful curves of the Waiheke coast, along which we had been sailing during the last two days. Variety was lent to the scene by the many islets which studded the gulf. Mr. Swainson, who always seemed to have the right thing ready at the right time, produced his flask just when we were all feeling rather exhausted with the climb, and made us each take a little refresher from it, which quite set us up again and prepared us for the descent to the beach, where we did not arrive until after the moon had arisen.

When our evening meal was finished we sat and watched the Maoris who gathered round our fires. They

amused us very much by their attempts to make themselves understood in "pidgin English," and I expect our attempts at conversation with them were equally amusing. As we all felt very tired we went early to bed, and were soon fast asleep.

FOURTH DAY

We did not get up as early as usual next morning because Mr. Swainson purposely misled us when we first woke by calling out "Five o'clock!" when it was really much later. He hoped to induce us to take a little longer rest. When I did wake I found that Emma and Humphrey had gone somewhere to sketch. I strolled away into the forest, along the banks of a brawling stream, till I came to a group of tree ferns which formed a natural arbour, where I sat down and enjoyed the peaceful quiet of the spot. A robin was my sole companion; he came hopping along the ground towards me, stopping every now and again to give me a good look, but as I kept very still his confidence increased, and at last he came close to my feet and began to peck at my shoes; but the moment I moved he flew away. The New Zealand robin, which is a dark slate colour on the back, and greyish white on the breast, is a very friendly little bird, and so is the chattering fantail. They are favourites with the English settlers, amongst whom it is a point of honour not to betray their trustfulness by injuring them.

We found the mosquitoes rather too devoted in their attentions to us whenever we entered the forest, so we

sought refuge from them on the beach, where we loitered about until one o'clock.

While there the principal chief of the village came to call upon us. He was accompanied by a nice old man named Peter, who asked me whether I could give him a Testament, and on finding that the chief was the only person in the village who possessed one, I gave Peter the last I had. He opened it at once, began reading with great fluency, and assured me that he was very grateful for my gift.

An old woman came up and claimed acquaintance with me in Auckland, but I could not recollect ever having seen her before. I gave her a string of beads. She looked at them with great pride, and asked a young woman standing by to help her fasten them to her ear. But the young woman ran off laughing, and came back in a few minutes with the beads round her own neck.

As it was Humphrey's turn to concoct the next stew, I helped to gather oysters to put into it. When we had collected a sufficient quantity it was time to get into the canoe and paddle off to our next camping ground. Peter came down to help shove the canoe off, as the water was shoal, and our men found the task of floating it rather beyond their strength. We got off amidst the loud farewells of the villagers who crowded the shore to watch our departure. Their old chief, who was standing on a high point far away, shouted his farewell message, which we heard quite distinctly. The Maori voices carry much farther than those of Europeans, owing to their language possessing so many vowel sounds.

Our crew began at once their strange boating song

in which half the rowers repeat a line, which is replied to by the other half, question and answer being alternately repeated as the rowers keep time with their paddles. We glided pleasantly along, but felt the heat greater than we had yet experienced. We kept going until four o'clock, when we landed in a tiny nook where there was just room for us to sit down under the trees near the water; and there we partook of Humphrey's excellent stew, and named the place "Despatch Box" out of compliment to him.

About six o'clock we reached Putiki Bay, near the home of William Thompson, one of our men, who joined us at Moses' village, where we changed into a different canoe from the one in which we arrived from Auckland. He was quite as great a character as any of the others – a steady fellow, with a fine open countenance. An anecdote I heard of him made me like him all the better. Mr. Swainson owed him a shilling for something, and, meeting him one Sunday, offered him the money. "Oh, no," he said, "no pay on Sunday; Monday pay money."

The English settlers at Mosquito Bay told us that it was impossible for them to lose count of the days of the week because the Maoris always kept Sunday so strictly and refused to do any kind of work for them on that day. It is sad to think that English Christians generally set such a bad example to these new converts from heathenism in the matter of Lord's Day observance, and in other ways, too, of still greater importance.

While the tents were being put up, William Thompson volunteered to act as our guide during the walk we proposed to take in the neighbourhood. He seemed particu-

larly desirous that we should go and see his own home, which he told us was only a mile away, though it proved in the end to be double that distance. He hurried us along at a great pace up hill and down dale, through densely wooded country, the beauties of which he did not give us time to examine. Suddenly we heard the roar of the surf striking the exposed side of the coast, a sound to which we had long been strangers, owing to the invariable smoothness of the waters around Auckland Harbour.

Emerging from the forest, we found ourselves standing in the middle of a cultivation of melons, hundreds of which were lying on the ground all around us. This was the spot to which our good William had been in such a hurry to bring us, hoping that it would prove an agreeable surprise. We were soon seated on the sands and given our choice of the best rock and water melons which the garden contained, and William was delighted to see how thoroughly we enjoyed them. In an incredibly short space of time four of the largest of his melons disappeared among five people. We then took a stroll along the beach to see the full moon which was just rising out of the ocean, and then, with many regrets, we left the delightful spot and made our way back to the camp.

Our walk through the dense forest was accomplished with great difficulty, for although the moon was bright, its light did not penetrate the deep gloom which encompassed us and, but for our guide, who kept the track by feeling for it with his bare toes, we should have lost our way and got "bushed" for the night. But, thanks to William, we reached our camp, carrying with us a good

supply of his delicious melons. The hospitality of the Maoris is one of the best traits in their character; they always seem perfectly delighted to give the pakeha the best of everything they possess, and it would be quite an insult to offer them payment.

Before retiring for the night a great consultation was held as to whether or not we should return to Auckland for Sunday. It was finally decided that, as the weather promised to keep fine, it would be better to remain where we were at Putiki Bay.

FIFTH DAY

Though tired enough when I went to bed, I did not sleep, owing to the irritation caused by the mosquito bites two days previously in Mosquito Valley. I was very glad, therefore, to find that Saturday was to be spent mostly on the water, going about from bay to bay, examining each locality with a view to its suitableness for the purpose of what we called our "castle plan" – settling our Welsh tenants upon it.

We got into the canoe shortly after seven o'clock, taking our "go-ashore" and as few things as possible for the day. It was my turn to cook the stew. George had shot some wild wood pigeons the day before, and these formed the foundation of it, but we had neither onions nor other vegetables, so it was necessary to forage for them in some direction or other. We paddled off to an adjoining bay which looked most inviting with its enclosing hills, wooded from base to summit. The dark green leaves of the karaka trees which grew along the

shore formed a pleasing contrast to the colour of the tree ferns and nikau palms, and varying hues of the foliage of the countless varieties of trees which grew behind them in rich profusion.

Landing, we took a walk along the beach and passed close to a neat cottage, its little flower garden gay with clustering roses. An elderly Englishwoman, observing us admiring them, came forward in a friendly way to speak to us. I thought at once of my poor stew, and looked longingly at her vegetable garden, which I remarked looked very tempting. Nothing more was wanted; she instantly loaded us with sage, beans, thyme and onions. I went into her house, and for the first time in our travels found that the offer of a couple of shillings would not give offence. No sooner, however, had she consented to take money and accepted two shillings than she began bringing us presents. First she gave us a quantity of her fresh home-made bread and butter, then some eggs, and, to crown all, her husband asked her to get the cake, and a large portion of it was cut off and put into my basket. Our foraging had proved successful, and no mistake, and I felt no more anxiety about my stew. It was not much after nine o'clock in the morning, so we had time to put the stew on the fire with its sage and onions and other additions, leaving it in charge of one of the Maoris, and go for a walk before dinner.

We decided to make for the highest hill within reach from the top of which we might spy out the land and judge of its suitability as a site for the "castle." There were plenty of streams of good water, and a considerable area of flat land; the part lying along the foot of the

hills seemed well sheltered from winds. The shrubs and trees which covered the land afforded good evidence of the richness of the soil. In parts the vegetation was so dense that it reminded us of some tropical scene, and we all agreed that no better site could be found for the "castle" than in this beautiful garden of nature's planting.

Passing on, we entered a thick forest consisting, like most forests in this country, of every variety of tree and shrub, where tree ferns and nikau palms rivalled each other in graceful beauty of form, and where the undergrowth was bewildering in its quantity and variety. Emerging from the forest which clothed the lower slopes of the hill we were climbing, we struggled upwards through the thick bracken to the top, from which we obtained a splendid view which promised so well for our colonising scheme that we called it "Castle Rising." Emma made a hurried sketch of the view, whilst we sat and enjoyed its charms, meantime eating one of William's delicious melons, which proved most refreshing after our hot climb. On reaching the foot of the hill we found Jenny where we had left her, on the outskirts of the forest; she had been too tired to attempt the hill. On our return to Muddy Creek we found the stew as ready for us as we were ready for it, and felt very grateful to the good lady of Rose Cottage for helping us to get such a good dinner.

While resting after our meal, an incident occurred which caused great fun and hearty laughter. Robert, George, Onion and Jenny, who were standing near the mouth of the creek, appeared to be seized by sudden

mania. They dashed into the water, armed with sticks and began beating it in the most frantic manner, jumping about all the time. Their attitudes and behaviour looked most ridiculous and meaningless until we were told that they were attacking a shoal of fish coming up the creek with the tide. Unfortunately, in spite of their violent efforts, they did not succeed in securing a single fish for our use.

When we had rested sufficiently we got into the canoe and paid a visit to the adjoining bay, where we found a picturesque and more than usually neat looking little house belonging to a French family of the name of De Witte. They were not at home, but the person left in charge of the premises took us over the house, treated us to delicious milk, and gave us some almonds grown on the place. The garden was evidently as much taken care of as anything else. Unfortunately the cattle had broken into it recently and had eaten down the fig trees and vines, which in this country thrive in the open air. The whole place wore an air of neatness and comfort, both inside and out. The earthen floor was covered with small white shells, arranged in patterns, beaten into the clay; they looked clean and cool. Profiting from our lesson in foraging received from Mr. Swainson, we gave a gentle hint, while being shown over the dairy, that our eggs were getting low, upon which a dozen were instantly presented to us, and a sufficient quantity of flour to make the pie which Emma had suggested as the best change from stew for our Sunday dinner. To complete all, we were given a beautiful bouquet of delicious roses and other flowers.

After leaving our cards and thanks for Madame De Witte, we continued our stroll until it was time to return to Putiki Bay, which we had thought of calling Half-and-Half Bay, because we found one morning that the remains of the previous day's tea had been left in our kettle teapot when the morning coffee was made; and finding the mixture drinkable, we proposed to commemorate the cook's blunder by dubbing the place Half-and-Half; but our day's exploits in the way of begging induced us to select what we decided would be the more appropriate name of "Beggars' Retreat." Our tea this night at the "Beggars' Retreat" was something sumptuous, what with the Rose Cottage bread and butter and cake, the De Witte's eggs, and the "Melon Beach" melons. It was evident that we had made no mean progress under our skilled instructor in the art of begging.

After tea commenced the business of pie making in the bright moonlight, and Emma went to work in real earnest. The top of Mr. Swainson's box formed the paste board, and a bottle the rolling pin, and soon a noble pie appeared in the moonlight, composed of De Witte flour, Rose Cottage butter, pigeons shot by George, and gravy from our last stew. The next business was the baking of the pie. We borrowed a lid for our "go-ashore" from an English sawyer living close by, and having put the pie dish into the "go-ashore" and the lid over the top of it, glowing embers were heaped upon the lid and also placed under the pot. We watched the process of baking with great interest for an hour, when the lid was removed and the pie found to be quite cooked and ready for our Sunday dinner.

Our week at Waiheke was now ended, and after our week's exertions we were quite ready to struggle into our blanket bags and draw our friendly mosquito curtains round our heads and go to sleep.

SIXTH DAY

When Sunday morning dawned, being in no hurry to go anywhere, I did not get up till near seven o'clock, and then enjoyed a good wash and getting into clean clothes, as much as if I had been deprived of such luxuries for years. To complete my smart appearance, George had the night before carefully cleaned my shoes ready for Sunday and polished them, for want of blacking, with a piece of tallow candle, which we can recommend to all bush travellers as a substitute.

We were awakened by the chanting of the Psalms by our Maori men at their prayers; and very pleasing it sounded in my ears, knowing that the voices were uplifted in praise to our common Father in Heaven. The sounds were far from melodious as far as the music was concerned, for I think Maoris try to make their music as discordant as possible; but heartfelt songs of praise to God can never be discordant in the sympathetic listener's ears, who recognises in the sounds the expression of feelings common both to himself and the singers.

Before breakfast I managed to enjoy a quiet half-hour alone in the woods, and really felt that it was Sunday. I was glad to have the opportunity of spending one of the happy Waiheke days amongst the natives who had so lately been brought out of heathen darkness, where

no Lord's Day was known a few years ago, but where now it was honoured, and its hours employed in a way that put many English Christians to shame.

Shortly before breakfast we started for Melon Beach, accompanied by all our Maoris, except Moses, carrying with us our pie and the fish which Onion and Robert succeeded in getting the day before. Moses, good old creature, had assisted in dandifying Onion for Sunday by lending him his own white straw hat, with its broad ribbon band, and was nothing loath himself to enjoy an entire day's rest, keeping watch over our tents. Perhaps, too, he was tired with his extraordinary exertions the previous evening, when Mr. Swainson actually called us all out of our tents to see "one of the events of the week, if not quite the event" – namely, Moses running a race with one of the others for the spring at the other end of the beach, from which we got our drinking water. Not having his entire Sunday costume with him, and disliking to do things by halves, Moses undressed instead of dressing himself, and remained all day in his blanket, which he wrapped round his body. All the others looked so clean in their white shirts; but Onion surpassed them all in his resplendent array, for besides the white straw hat he wore a brilliant scarlet jacket, the cast-off garment of some military officer.

We had a delightful walk to Melon Bay, through the dense forest, in which we spent some time examining and admiring the large trees and undergrowth. Onion presented us with some part of the nikau which he said was good to eat; we tasted and liked its rather nutty flavour. He obtained it by stripping the old leaves off

the palm stem till the budding new ones were reached; these he broke off, and from the bottom of the bud got what he gave us to eat.

One of the Maoris showed us the tree from the berries of which they extract their favourite hair oil, which they prize highly on account of its scent.

On the outskirts of the forest we were shown a shrub with broad leaves, standing five or six feet high, the stalks of which are like cork, very buoyant. 39 The Maoris use them to make floats for fishing nets, and rafts for crossing rivers; and where the trees grow to a sufficient size, as at the East Cape they use the trunks to make catamarans on which a man will venture alone some distance from the shore to fish. They are used along the coast where the surf is too heavy to allow small canoes to be employed with safety.

On reaching Melon Bay we were invited by William Thompson to help ourselves to melons, and having got all we wanted, we went in search of a good resting place, finding one in a very retired nook under a fine, broad spreading pohutukawa tree growing among the rocks just above high-water mark. Here we had prayers, Humphrey acting as our chaplain.

After prayers all except Humphrey, who complained of headache, went to visit Patara, a highly respected native chief who lived at a pa about a mile and a half away. It was strange to see the ease with which our Maoris, with naked feet, helped us over the sharp rocks of which we felt the points even through our shoes After a pretty walk by a narrow native path winding in

and out along the coast, we arrived at Patara's pa, which we found by far the best we had yet visited. Patara was a noble looking man with a fine open countenance, and we were honoured with his company on our walk back to Melon Beach, where he held a Maori service, which Jenny and I and Mr. Swainson attended. There were about twenty adult Maoris present, all most fervent in their responses. Patara read with a loud, clear voice, and spoke with much earnestness when preaching. When I looked round his audience I could scarcely believe where I was, joining in an act of worship with persons who had once been cannibals and who perhaps had eaten human flesh on the very spot where we were holding a Christian service, but who now worshipped the same God of Love with ourselves, and were trusting to the same Lord Jesus Christ for their salvation.

At the close of the service we sought our cosy nook at the corner of Melon Beach, where we found luncheon awaiting us. Emma's pie, which was the chief dish, proved to be as nice to the taste as it looked to the eyes, and we thoroughly enjoyed our meal. The boom of the breakers on the beach hard by served as our band while we partook of it. Our men, who had their meal not far away, were surrounded by a large group of their friends, and I longed to be able to tell them in their own language how much I had enjoyed their Maori service.

During the afternoon we strolled slowly back through the forest to our camp in time for tea. I afterwards spent a little quiet time reading by myself in the woods, but was driven sooner than I wished into the tent by rain – the first that had fallen since we left Auckland.

It soon proved to us that, however pleasant and agreeable camping in tents might be in fine weather, it was not so pleasant in wet.

Jenny's turn had now come to prepare for Monday's dinner, which was to consist of fried potatoes and fried pigeons. Her inexperienced efforts to accomplish her appointed task caused us great amusement and many a hearty laugh at her expense.

When the rain stopped we strolled along the shore in the moonlight till ten o'clock, when we turned for the last time into our blanket sacks.

SEVENTH DAY

At five o'clock in the morning of this first day of March we were awakened by the loud shouts of Onion, crying out at the top of his voice, "Get up, Lysha! Get up, Cheen!" a summons we promptly obeyed. Emma took a last sketch of our encampment in the "Beggars' Retreat"; I packed up and had time to enjoy an hour's quiet in my favourite sylvan oratory. I returned in time for breakfast, which it was intended should surpass any previous meal of the kind during our bush expedition. It consisted of fried eggs, bacon and toast; and much we enjoyed it, though I confess that had the food been put upon a table at home its uninviting appearance would have been enough to ensure its being immediately sent back to the kitchen.

Owing to a very high wind having risen, our Maoris thought it would be safer for us to return to Auckland in a cutter, instead of the canoe as intended, and we thought it was well to follow their advice.

Just before breaking up our encampment Emma propounded the following riddle:

Without harm you may pitch me
From a mountain summit to its base;
Strike me, and that instant I collapse,
And leave a vacant place. (A Tent.)

With sincere regret on both sides we parted from our good-natured Maoris, who had been both attendants and friends and an unfailing source of amusement to us. They promised to come to see us in Auckland. I told them I should always associate them with different scenes and incidents on our trip: Onion with the Waiata songs and fun of all kinds; George with the cleaning of my Sunday boots with tallow; Robert with Schnapper Bay, catching fish; William Thompson as king of his pa, dealing out his delicious melons with royal liberality; and old Moses (as Jenny said) "doing the grand" in his own whare, then running a race in his blanket to the spring.

We Beggars left our Retreat with much sorrow, and I don't think any of our party enjoyed the return by cutter as much as we did the coming out by canoe. Emma and I saw the hills and woods of our dear Waiheke fade away in the distance with many regrets.

The lively motions of the cutter in the choppy sea made us all feel rather uncomfortable. Emma tried to sleep, while Mr. Swainson resigned himself to his fate in a quiet part of the cutter, where he was least under our observation. Humphrey and Jenny looked very unhappy, and I tried in vain to read. We were very glad when, about twelve o'clock, the cutter, after a quick

passage, ran alongside Wynyard Pier. We all walked home along the beach, looking nearly as uncivilised as our friends whom we had left behind in the bush. A good many passers-by, seeing our dilapidated condition, stared at us, and some whom we knew exclaimed that we looked as if we had been leading a Maori life, we were so brown and dirty.

On coming down the hill Mr. Swainson espied our dear canoe in Mechanics Bay. It had actually come across the gulf as quickly as ourselves. Relieved of our weight, our Maori friends thought their canoe could cross safely over, and ventured to follow in our wake. To Humphrey's surprise they were ready to bring all our things from the vessel, and were most anxious that we should find them all right. If the natives are fond of doing nothing, they are also fond of being useful and kind and liberal. The one thing which struck me more than anything else about them was the good terms on which they live with one another. I never saw or heard an unkind look or word to each other during the time we spent among them. We English would be far happier if we were to follow our Maori friends' example in our behaviour to each other.

On reaching home we thoroughly enjoyed a good wash, and putting on clean clothes and sitting down to a nicely appointed table, with white linen and glass and silver.

Jenny's stew was one of the dishes on our table, and proved very palatable.

In the evening the Buchanans and Mr. Swainson came

to talk over our happy week, and while the Doctor read out Jenny's journal of our daily doings, the listeners consumed the last of William Thompson's delicious melons.

And so ended our successful canoe expedition to Waiheke Island.

38 The immense spars requisite for making the topmasts of the larger classes of ships in the navy had become so extravagant in price, and so scarce in Europe, that it was necessary to look for them elsewhere. Captain Cook had mentioned in his voyages that he thought the timber he had seen in New Zealand, if light enough, would make the finest masts for ships in the world;... a small spar which was brought from thence by the Catherine whale ship, was much approved of, and purchased for a foretop-gallant-mast for the Dromedary. It was well tried during its return to its native country, and proved itself to be, in seamen's phrase, a stick of first rate quality... Some of the Cowry trees which we measured rose one hundred feet from the ground without a single branch, and afterwards headed almost as umbrageously as the lime; the stems of others, not so tall, gave a circumference of forty feet. The Cowry was the timber which the Dromedary was directed, if possible, to, bring home, and as it is requisite that every spar fit to make a topmast for the larger ships of the navy, should be from seventy-four to eighty-four feet long, from twenty-one to twenty-three inches in diameter, and perfectly straight, the success of the attempt in a great measure depended upon the proximity of the trees to the water's edge, and also in no small degree upon the friendly disposition of the natives. (Journal of a Ten Months' Residence in New Zealand. R. A. Cruise. London, 1823.)

39 The whau. See index, Early Maoriland Adventures of J. W. Stack.

PART III. A VISIT TO THE WAIKATO IN 1858.

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.

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, 40 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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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,

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.

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

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. 41 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

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

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

delicious fruit, and often found the trees growing wild in quite out of the way places. 42

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.

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

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

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

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, 43 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

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, 44 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

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 45 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,

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.

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

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?"

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

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

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 46 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-

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.

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

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

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

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.

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. 47

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

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

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.

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

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. 48

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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-

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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.

40 Alexander Shepherd, Colonial Treasurer 1842-1856, and therefore a fellow public official.

41 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.

42 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.

43 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."

44 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.)

45 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.

46 Livingstone's Missionary Travels had been published the previous year.

47 See Savage Life and Scenes in Australia and Mew Zealand. G. F. Angas. Vol. 2, Chapter I.

48 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.

PART IV. WITH BISHOP WILLIAMS AT POVERTY BAY 1859-60.

PART IV

WITH BISHOP WILLIAMS AT POVERTY BAY 1859-60

[In the preceding Memoir introductory to Mrs. Stack's Journals, reference is made to her extensive journeys, occupying a period of about four months when, subsequent to her visit to the Waikato just recorded in Part III, she visited Tauranga, Maketu, the Hot Lakes district and – for the second time – the Waikato River. Following that, in the earlier part of 1859, came the visit to Wellington and Nelson. The whole of this large section of the Journals is of exceptional interest, but being a complete story in itself and too lengthy to be incorporated in this volume, it is held over for another occasion. Both for the sake of variety in interest, and in order that a complete section of the Journal may be given, there now follows Mrs. Stack's account of her memorable visit to Bishop William Williams at Poverty Bay in 1859-1860.]

FROM AUCKLAND TO TURANGA BY SCHOONER

One of the first friends to greet me after our arrival in Auckland from Wellington and Nelson was Mrs. Leonard Williams, 49 who renewed the invitation given me by the Bishop and his wife, when I saw them in Wellington, to pay a visit to Poverty Bay and make a long stay with them. As it was rather an out-of-the-way place.

and could only be reached by sea, which necessitated a voyage occupying several days in a small coaster, I decided not to miss the opportunity of going there under the Williamses' escort and accepted the invitation to go back with them.

I had less than a week to prepare for a long stay on the East Coast, but by dint of hard work I got everything ready and down at the wharf before the 2nd July, when the schooner Dolphin was advertised to sail.

The morning she was to have taken her departure I went down to the wharf with Humphrey, and met the Williamses ready to embark. But, as usual in this country, the departure was put off in spite of the inconvenience caused by doing so to the passengers, and we were told that the vessel would not sail till Monday. I returned with Humphrey, not really sorry that I was to spend a quiet Sunday on shore.

Monday, 4th July, 1859. We were down on the wharf again by nine o'clock in the morning, and went off in a boat to the vessel, where we were told there was no chance of her sailing until two o'clock. Well it was for me that the delay occurred, for on Humphrey's going to look for my luggage he discovered that it was not on board, and started off at once in search of it.

On coming to me for my keys I looked in my handbag, but no keys were there. I searched my pockets, but without success, and could not imagine what had become of them. I was in despair. There was just time to get once again to Carlton Gore and back. Kate Williams

kindly offered to go with me, and away we hurried all the way up hill, for nearly three miles. On reaching the house, hot and flurried, I searched everywhere I could think of without finding them. At last it struck both Emma 50 and myself that they might have been put away with her keys in the cash box, and there, sure enough, on opening it, was lying snugly my bunch of keys.

I said my third good-bye to Emma and rushed off, fearing I might be too late. On getting back to the vessel Humphrey met me with good news about my lost luggage, which he had found covered up with tarpaulins on the wharf, and fortunately nothing had been stolen. I felt greatly relieved, but sorry that Humphrey should have been put to so much trouble about my things.

When two o'clock arrived a further delay was announced by the captain, who informed us that he would not sail until four. Emma came down during the afternoon and, finding I had not sailed, came on board to see my cabin. It was very superior in size and fittings to the cabin of the Hope which had been my home at this very time last year. 51 A curtain separated my berth from that of Miss Williams, and also the captain's from those of Mr. and Mrs. Leonard. We were all, however, very close neighbours, and as the cabin was sitting, dining and sleeping room for all the party, we never thought of undressing at night, and took any favourable time during the day for making any necessary change in our dress, etc.

We passed Rangitoto and crossed the Hauraki Gulf with a fair wind, against which we battled for many hours, but as it increased to a gale, the captain took shelter on Tuesday evening in one of the Great Barrier harbours. The cliffs and wooded heights which surrounded the sheltered waters of the harbour looked very lovely in the moonlight.

We had not been anchored many minutes before Mr. Williams called out to me that the vessel we had noticed following us for some time past had just come alongside, and was the cutter Hope. I thought he was joking, for during the afternoon a good deal of chaffing had gone on between us about my experiences in the Hope, and I fancied he was just continuing the fun. But when I went up on deck there she was, and I distinctly heard Captain Black's voice, which I had heard too often to mistake for anyone else's. I was very thankful I was not on board his vessel; one voyage in her in a lifetime was quite enough. Two other small vessels were driven in for refuge, so we were quite a little fleet in the harbour.

Wednesday, 6th. Early in the morning we got the boat, and as we pulled ashore we greatly admired the beautiful little sheltered harbour in which our vessel was anchored. It had but one narrow entrance, which little Freddy Williams called the gate. Some of the hills around it were clothed with forest, while others looked bare in their garment of fern. Pretty little coves with nice sandy beaches were to be seen in every direction, and looked most inviting to the fern-hunter.

The sight of a bonnet in a boat, which came towards us as we neared the shore, made us feel that we were not quite yet in the wilds. When we got within speaking distance we were greeted by the occupants of the boat, a lady and gentleman, who invited us to land in their bay, and promised to come back soon to entertain us. We landed, and very shortly they returned and welcomed us in hospitable bush style to a cottage, not in "a bower of roses" but in a bower of passion flower, which covered everything. It was a very lovely spot close to the beautiful sandy beach and rocks, yet quite concealed by the surrounding hills and woods, and very snug and sheltered.

Our entertainers were Mr. and Mrs. Malcolm. I discovered that they had been near neighbours of ours, though unknown to us, when we occupied Mr. Blackett's house in St. George's Bay. The children here remembered Mrs. Jones giving them flowers over the gate. There are four nice little girls, the eldest seven, so shy and simple in their manners. I thought how surprised my English nieces would be to see them in this wild looking place. They were wearing shoes made by their mother, who had been waiting in vain for months for a new supply of shoes from England. They showed me bits, almost imperceptibly small, of something which they used instead of slate pencil, their store of which was exhausted. Their little faces brightened when I promised to send them some real slate pencils, and I thought English children would value and take care of their books better if they could have seen how these little girls prized the few they possessed.

Mr. Williams wandered off into the woods and brought back with him some ferns, one of which he thought was

Pteris comans, which we know grows on this island. We were regaled on New Zealand wood pigeons and potatoes, and enjoyed our meal exceedingly. The Malcolms gave us a supply of milk, and we returned on board to tea, and to write letters to our friends in Auckland, as one of the little vessels sheltering in the bay was on its way there.

Thursday, 7th. We went ashore again early in the morning and met Mr. Malcolm, who took us a lovely walk over hill and dale and through beautiful woods. Each peep we got through the trees of the harbour and the little fleet, and the hills on the other side, seemed more lovely than the last. In one of the little coves we picked up a perfect gem of a Nautilus shell, though not larger than a shilling. Mr. Malcolm showed us later two of the largest specimens ever seen, which he picked up on the same beach. I hoped I might be fortunate enough to find such treasures, and searched diligently along the shore, but without success. We turned into the woods again, and soon I heard Mr. Williams shouting, "Pteris comans! Pteris comans!" Hastening in his direction I found myself in a complete grove of the coveted fern. A very fine, handsome one it is too, and we took back a large supply of it to our Dolphin home. At Pteris Grove, as we named the place, we rested in the shade and lunched on gingerbread and apples. To finish our repast, Mr. Malcolm took us to a spot covered with wild, but delicious, Cape gooseberries.

We retraced our steps to the Malcolms' hospitable abode, where I made my little friends of the previous

day half frantic with delight by gifts of some small books and picture cards I had brought on shore for them. Parting with much regret from the little people and their hospitable parents, and loaded with good wishes and a fresh supply of milk, we left the pretty cove and went on board again, where we spent the evening pressing and arranging our ferns.

Friday, 8th. About ten o'clock we got under way again and sailed out of the harbour, waving our adieus to the Malcolms as we passed them fishing in their boat. We soon saw in the distance my old friends the Mercury Islands, and the Alderman Rock, and the cutter Hope wending its weary way just as it did last year, when it was my misfortune to be a passenger in her to Tauranga.

We sailed briskly on, and during the night rather too briskly to be pleasant, for we had a terrible tossing, and the wind blew a complete gale all night, but, being in our favour, we did not complain.

The sight of the captain and Mr. Williams enjoying a hearty breakfast of steak and fried onions did not tend to alleviate our feelings of nausea. They considerately tried, by pulling the curtains down, to conceal their doings from us; but they could not conceal the smell of fried onions, which, however appetising on shore, has the opposite effect on delicate stomachs at sea. I could not help laughing at my own helplessness between my fits of sea-sickness. Certainly, I have had my full share since I came to the colony, and speaking from experience, I find sea-sickness much more bearable in a small sailing coaster than in the noisy screw steamer. I would ten

times rather go round New Zealand in the Dolphin than in the Lord Ashley or White Swan.

I managed to eat a potato boiled in its jacket about one o'clock, and then it got so much calmer that I managed to crawl up on deck. The wind was still very high, but during the afternoon it suddenly dropped to a light breeze, and we feared a calm. About eight o'clock it freshened up again, and when we woke next morning we found ourselves in Poverty Bay, about to cast anchor.

EARLY IMPRESSIONS OF POVERTY BAY

The Maori name of the Bay is Turanga nui a Rua, which means the chief anchorage of Rua, who was captain of one of the canoes which came from Hawaiki. It was called Poverty Bay by Captain Cook, who landed here hoping to procure fresh provisions, but found the natives so hostile that he could get nothing from them. We anchored close to the place where Cook landed.

There is no shelter for vessels, as the roadstead is exposed to the prevailing south-easterly gales, which often drive the coasters ashore. A heavy surf beats right round the bay, making landing at all times very dangerous. We had to wait until the boat had twice gone ashore before being allowed to land, and as each trip occupied a considerable time, our patience was sorely tried. Though Kate and I read the Church Service together, it did not feel a bit like Sunday, but we were grateful for a quick and safe voyage, and wished to give outward expression to our feelings of thankfulness.

When our turn came to get into the boat we realised

for the first time how high the sea was in the bay. We were nearly half an hour pulling to the shore, and as we neared it the curling white rollers looked so huge and our boat so small, I thought we must be swamped.

I cannot say that my first impressions were at all pleasing. Everything about the landing place was uninviting. The roaring, angry surf along the beach did not suggest a welcome; the foreshore was very flat and bleak-looking; the hills in the distance appeared cold and bare. I did not wonder that the first Englishman who ever came here called the place Poverty Bay. There was a native village close by the landing place, and there Mr. Leonard Williams held service in a miserable whare with some of the most wretched, poverty-stricken Maoris I have yet seen.

A messenger was sent to the mission station, 52 several miles away, for horses to be sent to meet us. About two o'clock we started walking, and met the horses. We had to cross a deep river in the smallest canoe I ever got into.

It seemed as if the least movement of our bodies would have capsized it, so we all sat perfectly still and hardly dared to breathe. Fortunately the river was not very broad, and we got safely across. Soon after passing the river we were met by Arthur Kempthorne, 53 who had brought each of us a horse. He was accompanied by a party of mounted schoolboys and men, some of them riding double.

The roads, or rather the narrow tracks, through the flax which covered much of the rich, swampy land we were passing over, were in a wretched condition. There was no mistake that we were in the wilds of New Zealand. We had to make our way as best we could through the scrub and flax, winding our way in and out to avoid obstructions. Suddenly my horse would sink in a bog hole up to his knees, and struggle so violently to get out of the mess as to make it difficult for me to retain my seat. No sooner had we emerged from one bog-hole than we encountered another, and so we went on slipping and plunging for two whole hours before we got on to firm ground.

It was now getting dark, and I could just distinguish we were in a large valley surrounded by very pretty hills, varying in distance from two to ten miles. Ti palms, kowhai trees and grass covered the flat land.

Mr. Williams pointed out to me a number of Maori buildings, alongside of which stood two weatherboard

houses with verandas. The whole assemblage of buildings, with the cultivated land about them, looked just like an English farm homestead. One of the weatherboard houses was, he said, the Bishop's "palace," the other belonged to him. Just as he finished telling me this a loud shout of welcome from the native school people greeted us, and the dear old Bishop was at my side and helped me to dismount, taking me indoors, introduced me to his household, which consisted of about a hundred persons. Besides his wife and daughters and grandchildren, there were Maoris young and old crowded into the large dining-room, and I went the round, not rubbing noses according to Maori custom, but shaking hands.

We travellers were very ready for tea, having eaten nothing but a little gingerbread since our morning meal on board the Dolphin. The homelike tea spread out for our refreshment looked most inviting. Beautiful fresh eggs, brown bread, Devonshire cream, butter, and Cape gooseberry preserve formed a most delicious meal. Mrs. Leonard brought over her three little ones to greet their papa, and they, with Mrs. Williams and Maria and Kate, formed the family party. After prayers, and a chat about Auckland friends, we retired to rest, and I much enjoyed sleeping again in a comfortable bed on shore.

A WALK ROUND THE MISSION STATION

Monday, 11th. Mrs. Williams took me for a walk round the Mission premises. We visited each of the whares occupied by the fourteen married couples who attend the school. They varied in neatness and order,

but most of them were well kept. The floors were covered with clean flax mats, made by the native women; the beds were made up according to European fashion, and looked comfortable. A small table, with a looking-glass on it, and brushes and combs beside it, gave a civilised look to the room.

We then went to see the washing, which was being done by the women and elder girls, under the superintendence of Mrs. Leonard Williams. I was surprised to find a washing machine in use. and to hear that the girls liked working it. After seeing the kitchen and bedrooms we strolled through the garden, where plenty of flowers were blooming, and where I saw the Bishop's large apiary filled with the hives of busy bees. The kitchen garden and orchard were both large and well kept. The produce supplies the school with vegetables and fruit for the immense quantity of jam required.

The Bishop took me to see the farm buildings, where I saw the threshing machine at work, and a sledge loaded with firewood drawn by a team of eight bullocks. There being no roads anywhere about here, carts cannot be used, and these sledges are indispensable. The bullocks are very tractable, and the Maori drivers very skilful.

The poultry yard is very productive. I was told that in four days no less than one hundred eggs were brought in. A large number of cows are milked, and everyone gets milk and butter at breakfast and tea.

There is a fine, large schoolroom, very lofty, for the men and boys. One half is at present used as a carpenter's shop, where an excellent English carpenter is always employed teaching the natives his useful trade. He acts

as general overseer of the men's and boys' work in the absence of the Bishop or Mr. Leonard. He also superintends the butchering department, cuts up and salts the meat, dispenses it, manages the store department, and sees that no provisions are running short.

The baking for such a large number of people occupies a good deal of time, and is going on pretty well all the week. The oven is never allowed to cool. In it Mrs. Leonard sees baked weekly twelve hundred pounds of bread. The dough for the daily baking fills two large tubs. The work of kneading it is taken in turn every day by a man and boy, till it has gone round the school.

In an adjoining room is kept the flour after being ground, and there boys are employed to sift it. So the scholars grow their own wheat, grind it, sift it, bake it – and eat it. Every Saturday the boys all come to this room for their weekly bath, and to be dressed in their clean garments for Sunday. Mr. Kempthorne attends to this, and generally superintends the boys.

The inmates of the school number over one hundred all told. There are fourteen married couples and eighteen children under four years of age, eighteen young men, forty boys, and sixteen girls. The girls sleep in the Williamses' house, and require constant looking after. Most of Mrs. Leonard's time is taken up with them. Although we breakfast at six o'clock she is often busily occupied before that hour, and very often up in bitterly cold weather at half-past four.

Every Monday before breakfast she wrings out of cold water all their own family washing, sheets, table-cloths, etc., and sees that they are really boiled for half an hour

before being put through cold water again, then rinsed in blue water, and by eight o'clock all hung out on lines to dry. Bread making follows the washing, something else follows that, and so on till dinner time.

On Tuesday, an equally busy day, she had to look after the schoolboys' washing. The first thing was to see whether the fire was lighted under the boiler and sufficient wood chopped to keep it going during the day. The clothes, which were soaking all Monday, were washed in the machine, and four boys were employed to work it. After leaving the machine the clothes were passed through three different waters and then hung out to dry.

On one afternoon as many hands as can possibly be got together are employed mending the rents of the week, and patching wherever required. Every three months materials for new sets of garments are given out for the women and tiny children. Judging by the great noise and clatter that they make outside the door, the women seem to regard this distribution as a very important matter. They seem to delight in perplexing Mrs. Leonard with their demands for needles and thread and instruction about the cutting out and disposal of the materials given to them.

On Saturday night, while calling on Mrs. Leonard, I found that she had constantly to go to the door to attend to the wants of somebody connected with the school. I thought it very hard upon her that she who had been so busily employed all day long could not rest quietly in the evenings but was being constantly summoned by importunate knocks to go to the door and attend to somebody's wants. When the next summons came I volun-

teered to go in her stead. Standing at the door I found a Maori girl who said, "He heru." Not knowing what she meant I had to trouble Mrs. Leonard after all for an explanation, and found the girl was asking for a small tooth-comb. The request was repeated so often that evening by other girls and women that I imagined the annual outlay for small tooth-combs must be very large. But the fact was that Mrs. Leonard had brought from Auckland a fresh supply of those most indispensable articles of the Maori schoolgirl's toilet, which they had all been wanting for many weeks, their old ones being toothless from long use.

I was quite perplexed by one woman who came asking for Te wiki. It sounded just like "wiggie," and I wondered what on earth she could want a wig for, as she was supplied with a good natural mop of hair which certainly served the purpose well enough. I had again to trouble Mrs. Leonard for an explanation, and discovered to my amusement that the woman was trying to speak English, and wanted a wick for her lamp. I long to know Maori, when I shall be of more use to my friends, and saved from making such mistakes.

A sad accident happened to a poor deaf and dumb boy a few days after our arrival. He had not understood the warning given to the schoolchildren not to touch the cogwheels of any of the machinery on the premises, and placed his hand on a wheel as it was going round, when in a moment the tips of two of his fingers were nipped off. Fortunately the Bishop, who was in the medical profession before he became a missionary, was able to deal with the case and to do all that could be done for the

poor lad. The fact that the Bishop's services as medical adviser are in constant requisition shows what an advantage it is to the missionary's flock when he is qualified to minister to the needs of their bodies as well as their souls.

I BEGIN TO TEACH THE GIRLS

August 30th. I have been three weeks now at the Bishop's, and it is time I put down in my Journal how it has been arranged that I shall employ myself day by day during my stay here.

I have had the girls placed under my charge, and every morning except Sunday, after they have scraped a sufficient quantity of potatoes for the day's meals, I have to see that they wash themselves and are neatly clad for school. Then I am to tidy my own room, and read Maori till ten o'clock. From ten to twelve I am to teach the girls to read and write English, and cypher. From twelve till one I am to take them out for a walk.

On Monday and Tuesday afternoons I am to teach them sewing for two hours. I have amused and delighted my pupils by proposing that they should begin by hemming coloured pocket-handkerchiefs for their own use, for I do not like seeing them using their pinafores for the purpose.

I have been busy for some time past getting the girls' frocks in order. They are all dressed alike. On Sunday they wear sun bonnets and capes, and look very neat and tidy. After the clothes are washed and dried I arrange them for each according to the numbers, and

put them away in the school wardrobe, of which I have the key. On Saturday, after they are washed in their tub, I give the children their clean garments, and send away the dirty ones to be soaked in readiness for the Monday washing. Arranging their daily work and keeping their clothes mended occupies part of my time.

Twice a week for two hours I teach the English carpenter's two little boys. This completes the round of duties allotted to me for the present.

Maria Williams has school with the married women for two hours every afternoon, except Tuesday, when Mrs. Leonard teaches them to fix and make their own clothes.

I have hitherto found it very difficult to get sufficient exercise either for the girls or for myself, as the difficulty of walking is very great, owing to the absence of roads. The tracks are everywhere wet and muddy, and I cannot keep dry, even with goloshes on. When I do take a constitutional in company with the children after school, they have often to run before me to make some sort of a bridge or stepping stone to enable me to get over a pool or muddy hole.

For the last week there has been a great improvement in the weather, enabling me to accomplish a walk outside the school grounds and reach the pretty woods I have longed to enter ever since I came. It only took us twenty minutes to walk to the woods. There were several streams to cross, which required all the help the children could give me. Just as we seemed to have reached the forest we came to a swamp, twenty yards

wide, separating us from it. But the Maori girls were not easily thwarted. Leaving me to rest on the grass they darted off, and in less than half an hour had beaten down the raupo and toe-toe and put branches of trees down all the way across from side to side. With the strong help of the new, rough-looking girl, Rahera, I got over. We had time only for a few minutes in the wood, and then had to hasten back to be in time for our meal.

August 16th. Mr. Kempthorne left for Auckland, taking with him a large budget of letters, which we have been busy writing for some days past. Mine were written with a very sad heart, for while all the others were rejoicing last week over the letters they had got by the Planet, no letters came by it for me, either from Auckland or England.

August 30th. Another disappointment for me. Mr. Baker 54 arrived from the Port with two saddle-bags bulging out (which is always a good sign of letters when coming from that quarter). Strange to say he appeared just at the very moment Mrs. Leonard and I were saying "This is a good wind for letters," and Mr. Leonard told us that he had dreamt we had got them.

I was at tea with Mrs. Leonard, and holding baby so she very kindly, with Ellie in her arms, went off to the Bishop's house for my treasures. Mr. Baker himself came in soon after and said he had only got one

letter for me. I felt sure others would be enclosed, but was struck dumb when only a thin little note in Mrs. Montressor Smith's handwriting was given to me. I ran off to be a few minutes alone, for I felt this second disappointment very hard to bear. Mrs. Smith wrote from Humphrey's house, and I feel quite mystified that no letter has come from either himself or Emma. I fear my letters have all gone astray. I try to be patient, and wait for time to unravel the mystery. Humphrey and Emma would never be so unkind as not to forward on my dear, dear English letters, even if they could not write themselves. Mr. Leonard Williams very kindly sent a special messenger to the Port, ten miles away, who rode off, in pouring rain, to inquire again.

I spent a busy afternoon with my Maori exercises, and mending the boys' clothes, full of expectation all the time the messenger was away that he would bring back what I longed for, but alas! when he got back it was only to say no letters had come. I was inclined to rush off and spend the evening alone, but thought better of it, and soon recovered enough to teach Rebecca a little, and to sing a hymn, and read aloud one of the reviews from The Times to Mrs. Williams.

The new girl, Rahera, is, I am glad to say, getting a little more civilized. She is quick and very persevering, but very rough in her ways, and still looks like a boy in petticoats.

A new little child, called Patty, about five, who has only been here a month, can already put little words

together and write them down on her slate. Maori children certainly are very quick learners.

November 10th. Since the last entry in my Journal a strange thing has happened. A hat box belonging to the Bishop was opened by chance, and there inside it was my long-lost packet of English letters. The box came from Auckland by the vessel which brought the mail, but no one thought it contained anything but the Bishop's hat, and so it remained unopened till the hat was wanted.

Mr. Leonard examined my girls last week, and expressed himself pleased with their progress. The wild Rahera is much improved and is the most good-tempered girl in the school. One still rougher, Lucy by name, came six weeks ago, but she too is softening, and is not quite so uncouth as when she arrived.

I was much amused the other day by Cooper, the carpenter, coming in and saying with a long face, "Well, I suppose the patience of Job was something great, but he never had a set of Maori boys to deal with, or there is no saying but that even he would have gone cranky."

Certainly patience, good nature and firmness are in hourly requisition, and also strong nerves are very needful to bear all the startling kinds of noises and outcries which the Maoris are continually making. Nevertheless, I like the life, and now that the garden flowers look so pretty all round the house, and I have had several enjoyable rides into the country, and been able to get into the woods, I have become reconciled to my surroundings here.

A few days ago when I was in the woods with some of the girls, they found a very handsome white flower, like a huge magnolia, which they called kiekie. They told me to eat it, which I did, and found the flavour very agreeable. The leaves look like those of a short species of New Zealand flax, and grow in good-sized tufts on the trunks of forest trees, up which the parasitic kiekie climbs. It was most amusing to watch the girls scrambling like kittens up the trees, and to hear their cries of delight when they secured a ripe flower. The leaves of the kiekie are used to make the best kinds of floor mats and baskets.

On our way back the girls marched in regular order, singing a song which I had taught them. They wore wreaths of flowers on their heads, and carried bundles of kiekie leaves on their shoulders, and looked quite picturesque.

THE BISHOP'S DINNER PARTY

The great event of the past week was the dinner given by the Bishop to the natives of the pa, who were invited by him to join in the school hakari, or breaking up feast, on the fourteenth of November.

All the previous day everyone on the school premises was busy making preparations, and the abilities of the cooking department were taxed to their utmost extent. Mrs. Leonard was busy superintending the making of thirty huge Cape gooseberry pies with most substantial paste, which was mixed in great tubs by the men. The women picked and brought in buckets full of gooseberries.

The decorations on the top of some of the pies looked most ridiculous. One represented a horse so large that its head had to be bent in a most uncomfortable position to allow of its being got into the oven at all. A huge quantity of meat and vegetables had to be prepared and cooked outside the school kitchen, and to do this in time every method of cooking known to the people had to be resorted to.

About one o'clock on the fourteenth we were summoned to attend the feast, and found in the room adjoining the schoolroom two great tubs filled with large joints of fat pork, and other tubs filled with four hundred pounds of kumaras and potatoes. The waiters and waitresses of the feast were nicely dressed. Three of them were selected from the elder schoolgirls, and three from the school-men.

Three long tables covered with white cloths were ranged down the room, with tin plates and spoons for twenty persons set out on each. Before any guests were admitted to the room the waiters gathered up all the plates and brought them to the three butlers who were carving, or rather pulling to pieces with hands and knives, the joints of pork. Each tin plate was soon loaded up, but many and many a plate had no lean upon it, only large lumps of the fat meat, so highly esteemed by the Maoris. With the meat a liberal supply of vegetables was provided.

When all the plates were filled and sent round, the Bishop called each guest by name to take his or her place at the table, those of highest rank being the first called

It was quite curious to watch the solemn step and eager eye of the first guest to enter the room, who appeared at one glance to measure the contents of the plate assigned to him. The satisfied grunt, as he pulled his dirty red blanket together around his body when taking his seat, showed that he was pleased with the look of things. At last all were in their places, and presented a most extraordinary looking collection of people. A greater variety of features, expression and costume could scarcely be met with among an assembly of sixty persons. On two points, however, all were pretty much alike. All were equally dirty, and all were equally ready for the important business for which they came. No sooner had the Bishop said grace, and scarcely had the last echo of the loud "Amen!" passed away than very different sounds filled the room. Everyone was pulling and tearing at the meat, or stuffing whole potatoes or kumaras into his mouth. None but a Maori's mouth could extend wide enough to admit such lumps of food as were put in. The sight was at once amusing, amazing and disgusting.

Wherever I turned I met scenes such as the following being enacted. An old, well-tattooed man had on his lap a very small child, not a year old, and quite naked. His wife sat next to him. covered up in a very dirty, red blanket. The first of the trio to partake of the feast was the infant. Greatly to my surprise the old man picked from his plate the largest piece of fat pork, about two inches square, and presented it to the infant, who began to pull and suck and eat the dainty morsel with every sign of satisfaction. When the plates of both man

and wife had been twice replenished, the woman's red blanket was carefully spread on their knees, and the last supply on their plates was emptied into it, to be carried home, in accordance with Maori custom, to help their next meal.

The next thing that attracted my attention was a young, well-dressed man, who, with both hands, was holding a huge piece of fat pork up to his mouth, and with most of his face concealed by it, was voraciously biting into it, till at last he crammed it as if by magic into his capacious mouth. That difficulty overcome, and finding no more pork reached his plate again, he seemed perplexed as to where he should wipe his very greasy hands and face. After looking about for a while he wiped his face with his coat sleeve, and then, evidently not wishing to soil his trousers, which had once been white, with considerable dexterity he wiped his hands on the back of his coat.

The first course being ended the waiters brought round the second course, consisting of Cape gooseberry pies. A heaped plate was given to each guest. How the bright, glistening eyes watched the disposal of each supply of pies brought into the room, until they got their own share, and with what evident pleasure they consumed it. I watched the couple who had first attracted my notice, to see what they would do with the surplus portion of their second course. I could hardly believe that they would add it to what they had already wrapped up in the blanket, but they did, and a most disgusting looking mess they carried off with them.

When all had finished they retired, and the Bishop called in a fresh relay of guests, who were served in the same liberal fashion as the first partakers of the feast. They in turn retired, and were succeeded by others, until one hundred and eighty persons, the entire number of invited guests, were perfectly satisfied. On going outside we saw several good-sized baskets being carried off by the departing guests, full of what they had brought away from the dinner table.

In the evening, on going over to Mrs. Leonard's house, I found her on the veranda with a number of boys around her looking rather guilty, and lying about on the ground a quantity of their clothes. The little fellows had disobeyed her order to wear their old clothes during the holidays, and to leave their best ones behind them. They were caught leaving for home in their best things, and were brought back by one of the native teachers. We had specially mended the clothes to be worn during the holidays, feeling sure that old or new would be brought back to the school equally unwearable and unmendable. The little chaps retired behind a small projection of the house, where they changed into their old garments and brought back the forbidden new ones.

While this was going on at the house Mr. Leonard was engaged in the garden settling a quarrel between two other little boys. One complained that the other had struck him and was howling as loudly as he could. For a long time Mr. Leonard could get nothing out of the accused boy who would not answer any of his questions. At last he found his tongue and confessed that he did

strike his companion – with a gooseberry. As the only gooseberry he could have done it with was a stewed one got out of his share of pie at dinner, it was clear that the complaint was frivolous, and that it was rage and not pain that troubled the urchin who made it, so he was warned not to magnify trifling assaults in future.

There was a terrible noise and fuss all over the premises before the departure of the men, women and children for the holidays. Some went in drays, some on horseback, some walked off with their baggage on their backs. Some were bathed in tears, other full of glee. By dinner time on Wednesday most were gone, and we were free to amuse ourselves. Mr. Leonard took me for a beautiful ride several miles up the valley, which I very much enjoyed.

MAORI COURTSHIP UNDER DIFFICULTIES

November 19th. The Bishop told me at breakfast this morning the romantic history of the courtship of little Harata's parents. Andrew, her father, had for many years been the Bishop's head teacher, a very trustworthy and good man. He at first fancied a young woman named Charlotte, who had been a long time with Mrs. Williams. Charlotte's friends objecting, for tribal reasons, to the marriage, he transferred his affections to a nice-looking young widow named Selina who, Maori fashion, was paying him attention which, he gave her to understand, was acceptable. But that the chief parties concerned are pleased with each other, and desire to be united, is not enough among the Maoris. The relations

[Inserted unpaginated illustration]

THE COLLEGE CHAPEL
From a sketch by Mrs. Douglas Blair, Gisborne. An interesting relic of the old mission station. Some of the trees were planted by Bishop Williams at an earlier period than Miss Jones's visit.

must all be consenting parties to the marriage, for without their approval it cannot take place; hence it often happens that a poor girl is forbidden to marry the person she loves and forced to marry someone she hates.

Selina was determined not to submit tamely to the opposition of her family, and twice she swam the wide river to get to Andrew. Her relations offered to give Andrew one of their prized greenstone meres if he would give her up, but their bribe was of no avail. They recaptured Selina, but found that she and Andrew remained as devoted as ever to one another. At length they announced that if she swam the river again they would withdraw their opposition, and the Bishop might publish the banns. Though they kept a very strict watch over her movements she succeeded one dark night in slipping unperceived into the water, getting a good start before anyone followed in pursuit. The pursuers had nearly reached her, and her capture appeared certain, when she escaped by diving. So long was she under water that she was quite exhausted when she at last reached the bank. Fortunately she was seen by a friend of Andrew's who went to her assistance and took her to his house.

Relying upon the promise made by Selina's relations, Andrew asked the Bishop to call his banns on the following Sunday, which he promised to do. Members of the woman's family came over, however, saying they retracted their promise, and dared him to publish the banns. The Bishop tried unsuccessfully to induce them to withdraw their opposition, and parted with them affirming that he, at all events, would keep his word.

Sunday came, and the church was crowded to excess both parties being evidently prepared for a riot. One side looked triumphant, trusting of course to the Bishop's promise, while their opponents looked angry and defiant. The Bishop found the position one of great difficulty, but was equal to the occasion. A wave of excitement spread through the congregation as the time drew near when the important announcement was to be made. Great was the delight and triumphant were the looks and gestures of the one party, and astonished and crestfallen were the looks of the other party when the Bishop calmly continued the service without giving out the banns. But after his sermon, and just before singing the hymn with which the service closed, he gave the usual notice of the approaching marriage of Andrew and Selina. In this way he prevented a scene in church, for in the noise of getting up, and loud singing, the fierce words which accompanied the angry looks of Selina's relations were unheard until repeated outside the church after the service was over. As the Bishop expected, the opposition gradually subsided after the publication of the banns had actually taken place, and no further objection was offered to the marriage.

The Bishop and Mrs. Williams have gone for a visit to Auckland, and I miss them very much, and shall do so still more when the school reassembles and I have to manage the girls without their assistance and support. My ignorance of the language places me at a great disadvantage, for I do not understand all that is said to me, and am unable to make my orders fully understood by the children. But I must hope for the best.

I have had two delightful excursions since the holidays began, one with Mr. and Mrs. Leonard Williams, and the other with Miss Thorne and Mr. Wardell. I had a very pleasant ride with the latter along the coast. We started about seven in the morning, and by turns walked and cantered along the beautiful hard sands for about three hours. I very much enjoyed getting this peep at the sea after being for five months too far away even to hear its roar.

While at our gypsy dinner the White Swan passed quite close, and as we hoped that she carried a mail bag for us, we became reconciled to the thought of returning home. Mr. Wardell, who was an artist, and had an eye for a beautiful landscape, took me to the top of a headland, from which was obtained a most charming view of the coast. We reached the Wardells' house by bright moonlight, and as it was half past nine before we had finished tea, it was useless to think of returning to the mission station, that being the hour there for retiring to rest. Besides, after a ride of twenty-seven miles I did not feel quite equal to another ten miles of particularly rough riding.

THE SCHOOL REASSEMBLES

December 17th. The people began to return to-day, and noise and bustle were exchanged for the stillness and quiet which has prevailed during their absence. I was walking alone in one of the fields when loud cries of "Haeremai" (Welcome!) proclaimed the arrival of a fresh party of scholars.

Sunday was an intensely hot day, and the whare karakia (church) was crowded; but though the atmosphere inside the building was decidedly oppressive, the sight of so many worshippers was much more inspiriting, and made the services far more enjoyable than they had been during the previous four Sundays in the half-empty church.

Monday, December 19th. My work began to-day, and no easy task it proved. The girls were wild and rebellious of all control, and I felt rather puzzled to know how I was to manage them all alone. I soon found out that my only course was to begin with great strictness and in school hours to check at once the first appearance of frivolity and insubordination.

I began my duties in fear and trembling, but with a sincere prayer for wisdom and patience. Lucy was more trying than all the rest, though they were bad enough. She openly defied me. At last when I said that school would stop till she obeyed, she turned her back upon me, and muttered bad words. I then told her she must go to the next room till she became good. This she thought fit to do, but kept opening the door and looking in and laughing and making faces. I brought her in, and put her at the further end of the room, when she utterly rebelled, rushed downstairs, and went right off to the pa. There was a great commotion. The rest of the girls became sulky, but they obeyed me, and so the first struggle for the maintenance of my authority was over, and I hoped it would be the last.

In the afternoon Lucy returned, and Mr. Leonard gave

her a good talking to. Before putting the girls to bed I had learned a softening Maori speech to make to the culprit, and I found I was right in thinking that treating her kindly would be the best way to cure her spirit of insubordination. She eagerly took my hand after I had spoken to her, and made friends with me, promising better conduct in future.

Little Harata, who returned on Saturday, ran away on Monday morning before school began. She had been most rebellious all Saturday and Sunday, less with me than with Mrs. Leonard. She insisted on sleeping with some married natives outside, and not in the house with the other girls. Indeed, she did everything she was told not to do. The little puss had stirred up the same spirit of insubordination in her brother and cousin, and the three all made their escape together. She had put up all her clothes in a bundle, had been quite systematic in her plans, and got off without any difficulty. As she had made such good progress at school last term we fancy that when she got home she was praised and petted too much, and that she did not relish finding her level again at school. Andrew, her father, saw Mr. Leonard next day, and told him how vexed he was that his child had behaved so badly, and promised to send her back at once.

Two new Marys have come, so that I now have three Marys, two Maraeas, and two Raheras. One of the new Marys – a great tall girl who does not possess an open countenance – seems very much disgusted not to get a set of new garments on entering the school, and does not relish the idea of having to wait till they are made for

her. She seems disposed to be saucy and disobedient, and evidently dislikes school. It strikes me that her only object in coming to us was to get clothes! but I hope she will remain, poor girl, for she is very ignorant, and cannot read or write.

It is most difficult to keep my unruly pupils in any sort of order out of school. If told, for instance, to work in their gardens while we are at tea, I have discovered on coming out to them afterwards that they have been playing outside the fence, making a great noise, with the men and boys all round them. I feel sure that the only way to do real good with a girls' school is to have it like Mrs. Chapman's, 55 as far away from a pa as possible, and without any boys' school in the neighbourhood.

Monday 26th. Heard in the morning that the Volkners 56 have arrived at Turanganui, and may be expected here immediately, as horses were sent to meet them. We were all delighted to hear of their safe arrival. After dinner I went with the girls to the outer fence to meet them. The girls perched themselves on the top of the fence to keep watch, while I sat beneath in the shade. It was not long before they gave a loud cry of "Haeremai," and when I reached them I found my old friends close to me, looking very hot and tired and dusty, as they fancied they had lost their way. They only left Auckland the

previous Saturday, and had a famous run down the coast in the White Swan. I soon heard from them all the Tauranga news, the best part of which was that Celia's 57 marriage had taken place on 15th December. I found the Volkners a very pleasant addition to our mission party.

Saturday, 31st. One of my most agreeable tasks is taking the girls down to the river to bathe. It is quite a sight watching them disporting themselves in the water. To-day was very hot, so we all went down to the usual place for bathing, but the bigger girls thought it too public and we all got into a canoe and went a little way down the river until we came to a place where they could bathe unseen. What delighted them most was jumping from the high river bank into the deep water. They always went feet first, and kept on diving in this way for a long time. After watching their movements and listening to their joyous exclamations, I seated myself under a neighbouring willow tree, where I heard the distant sound of the girls' laughter. On returning to them I realised how long they had been in the water, for the canoe was hard and fast on the shore, the tide having ebbed away from it. The girls had the greatest difficulty in getting it afloat again, but by dint of hard pushing, encouraged by the loud vociferations and gesticulations of the older girls, the floating was accomplished, and we got home safely, but rather late. All the girls were wear-

ing wreaths of white calceolaria, gathered on the banks of the river, and looked very pretty and becoming.

January 2nd, 1860. The girls are going on a degree better, but they are a difficult set to manage. Mary Anki, when I gave her a sum to do last week, burst into a fit of crying, roaring at the top of her voice. On my insisting that she should give a reason for her loud lamentations she showed me a large sore on her leg, the top crust of which she had rubbed off. I told her if it pained her so much to sit quiet instead of doing her sum. To-day she refused to obey me when I told her to look at me instead of playing with her fingers while repeating her lesson. As she persisted in her disobedience I ordered her into the next room, when she set up her usual bellowing, which of course prevented my calling her back. Mrs. Leonard, hearing the noise while passing the schoolroom, came in, and told the child to be quiet, and as she took no notice, administered a sound slap, which stopped the crying at once. After a time, as she professed penitence, I called her back, and gave her some writing to do.

A VISIT FROM GOVERNOR BROWNE

January 11th. We heard this morning that the Governor has arrived on board a man-of-war for the purpose of seeing the native chiefs of this district. Mr. Leonard has gone down with horses to meet His Excellency. Mrs. Leonard and Kate and I, and all the school party are bustling to get the place as tidy as possible before the visitors arrive. The girls and I got the front

of the house tidy – windows cleaned, veranda washed, and weeds and grass raked off the paths. I arranged the flowers in the sitting-room vases.

After dinner I saw the girls washed and dressed in their Sunday clothes. The men have been busy all day making imitations of greenstone meres by covering pieces of wood with green flax leaves, and then practising the gesticulations of the grand "Haeremai." About six in the evening a band of wild-looking Maori outriders appeared, escorting the Governor, 58 who rode in the rear of them, with his suite consisting of Colonel Mould and Captain Steward.

The "Haeremai" with which the school welcomed the Queen's representative was very imposing. All the people, old and young, were ranged up in line near the gate, and before the Governor spoke to any of us, he had numerous speeches to receive and reply to from the senior scholars and local native chiefs.

Unfortunately Mr. Dillon Bell, 59 who had been down the East Coast settling the Government land claims, left behind him a legacy of ill-will, and the Maoris had been told by ill-disposed Europeans that the Governor had come down to enforce Mr. Bell's demands. This irritated the Maoris, and prevented their reception of the Governor being as cordial as it otherwise would have been. Consequently, while welcoming the Governor, our Maoris told him that they hoped he would do what was right

about their lands. The Governor put rather a wrong construction upon these words, owing to a note from Mr. Bell, which he received on his arrival, in which that gentleman complained of the behaviour of the East Coast Maoris who, he said, were the most insolent people he had ever met with in New Zealand.

The coldness of his reception on landing at Turanganui, where he expected to be met and welcomed by a large concourse of natives, also misled the Governor. When he saw only a few Europeans to greet him at the landing-place, and not a single native chief, he was very angry, and sent a message to Captain Cracroft that he would return to the man-of-war early the next morning, as there was no business to transact.

As it happened, the poor reception given to the Governor was owing to a misunderstanding and not to any ill-feeling on the part of the Maoris. The chiefs had sent a letter to the Resident Magistrate, Mr. Wardell, 60 to ask whether it was true that the Niger had come in with the Governor on board, and asking him to let them know when and how they ought to receive the Governor. This letter reached Mr. Wardell's house after he had started to meet the Governor, and was not seen until late at night on his return from escorting the Governor to the mission station. Mr. Wardell wrote to tell the Maoris of the mistake, and of the Governor's intention to embark early in the morning. He advised

that as many as could come should be at the landing place, as he had no doubt His Excellency, when he heard of the mistake, would see them.

A number of chiefs acted on the magistrate's advice, and appeared in the morning, as arranged. The Governor, on his arrival, agreed to see them, but not being in an amiable mood, and resenting some disagreeable things said by one of the chiefs, he in turn gave offence by his replies, and the audience ended worse than it began, doing more harm than good. His final remark, which of course was not literally interpreted, was that they might go to the devil and mind their own affairs in future. 61

Everything the Governor says tends to strengthen the general impression that he has no liking for the native race. Had he but spoken kindly, and explained away their false impressions regarding the object of his visit, and told them it was his resolve to do justly by all, the Maoris would have been quite satisfied. As it was, his unfriendly bearing and threatening language roused their ill feelings, and will do much to increase the growing suspicion amongst the Maoris that the Government intends to deprive them of their lands by force.

On his way back from seeing the Governor off Mr. Leonard had a bad fall from his horse, which might have been very serious, as he fell upon his head. Fortunately he escaped with a few scratches on his face.

A WEEK OF ACCIDENTS

January 16th. The past has been a most eventful week, and very unlucky. It began with the Governor's visit, which was a decided failure. Then one of the schoolboys, who had left his pen-knife open on the ground with an upturned blade, forgetting it was there put his foot upon it. The blade ran two inches into the foot and broke off, and not a vestige of it can be seen, so that in the absence of a surgeon there is no possibility of extracting it. 62 Following this, another boy ran a pitchfork into his hand. Then Mr. Leonard, who had hardly got over his fall, was called to see a sick cow; while he was examining her she got up suddenly and rushed at him, putting one of her forelegs down with such force upon his foot that he nearly fainted with pain. He had to keep his foot in hot water for many hours, and was very lame for some days. Fortunately the cow had no horns or he would certainly have been gored.

But the most terrible of our mishaps was the accidental death of a little boy ten years of age, who was killed in the harvest field by a heavy dray passing over him. The dray was laden with wheat-sheaves, and Cooper had only ten minutes before warned the little fellow not to ride on top of them. He and another lad had, however, disobediently crept up again, and stretched themselves out on top of the load. A sudden jerk had caused them to fall off, and before Cooper could stop the bullocks the wheel had passed over one of the boys and broken his

back. Cooper reached him in time to hear one deep groan and to meet the piteous look in his eyes before they closed. He was carried directly into the wash-house where Mrs. Leonard had scarcely time to sprinkle a little cold water on his face when he sighed twice and died. Poor little lad, I hope his sad end will teach the other children the necessity of obedience.

January 16th. English letters came to-day. Thank God for good news from all my loved ones at home.

January 23rd. At dinner Mr. Leonard told us that the Maoris here are becoming more and more unsettled. The quarrel now going on between the Government and the Taranaki natives about a piece of land at Waitara is causing great dissatisfaction, and a section of natives here have summoned a meeting to discuss the advisability of expelling all Europeans from the East Coast, including even the Bishop and his family. 63 The advocates of this hostile policy say, "If no Europeans had been here the Governor would not have come; it was their presence which gave him an excuse for doing so, and an opportunity to spy out the land. If the Europeans remain the Governor will soon return, and seize all the land belonging to the Maoris, as he has done at. Taranaki."

January 25th. The girls told me this morning that the Maoris in all the villages round us are talking about the

approaching expulsion of all pakehas, including the missionaries. They expressed great indignation against all such doings, and quite took our part, as they consider themselves identified with us. The Volkners are as much surprised as I am to hear that Maoris are talking so much against those whom they acknowledge are their oldest and best friends. We hope it is only talk, but it is nevertheless very sad and very disgusting.

The Volkners brought a fine sheep dog with them, but are forced to send it away because the Maoris threaten to kill it, as it bites their pigs when they invade the school grounds. The pigs are great pests. They are always getting into the garden and rooting up something of value, and we have no redress against their depredations. Only last night they broke into the kumara ground, and did great damage. Not long before they were continually in the wheat field, damaging the crop. After fattening these creatures on our farm and garden produce, the owners have the face to offer them for sale, at a high price, to the Bishop who, for the sake of peace, submits to the injustice.

SWAMP FIRE

A large fire has been burning for three days in the swamp between us and the sea, and is now rapidly approaching us. To-night the wind blew the flames alarmingly near the fence. The blazing front of the fire was about a mile in length, and rose up like a wall of flame raging and crackling, and sending forth furnace heat. The red flames lighted up the whole of our premises

with a strange glare, and the entire scene was grand in the extreme. The wooden fences were often in danger, but fields of green grass protected our houses, preventing the fire from reaching them.

After prayers the men were sent with lighted torches to fire the ground all round the fences, and so stop the advancing tide of flames from reaching and destroying them. Fortunately heavy rain fell during the night and extinguished the fires on either side of us.

NATIVE INGRATITUDE

We had a rather distressing proof the other day of the unreasonableness of the natives, and the difficulty of living at peace with them when they are close neighbours.

Amongst other residents at the pa who have permitted their pigs to trespass inside the school fences and damage the growing crops, was a teacher named Paul, who paid as little heed as the rest to the warnings repeatedly given that the pigs would be impounded if they continued their depredations.

One day the school-men caught three, found rooting amongst the sweet potatoes. No one knew to whom they belonged. They were put into a sty, and notice was sent to the pa requesting the owners to come and fetch them. One of the pigs was found to belong to Paul, who refused to come for it.

"No," he said, "let those who put it into the sty put it out again. I will not speak to Mr. Williams until they do."

Mrs. Williams, who had for some days past been

doctoring his wife's foot, went as usual in the evening to dress it, and put a fresh poultice on. She spoke to Paul and advised him to go and see her husband about the pig, but he refused, and was quite rude to her. What makes it worse is that for nine months Paul's wife and child have been fed entirely each meal from the Williamses' table, and during the last fortnight Mrs. Williams has been three times a day to dress and poultice the wife's foot; yet her husband has the ingratitude to resent the impounding of his pig, caught in the very act of destroying the property of the people who have been so kind to him.

The more I see of the ingratitude of the Maoris and their lawless ways, the more I marvel at the patience and endurance of the missionaries, who bore with them during that awful period when they were cannibals. If they are so difficult to live amongst now they have become Christians, what must it have been to live amongst them when they were heathens.

February 8th. The growing dislike to the English Government, openly shown by the natives in their conversation with one another, is beginning to infect our scholars, and increase their habitual unwillingness to obey our orders.

The first thing I saw from my schoolroom window this morning was a band of little boys running away towards the pa. Just what I suspected had happened – they had openly rebelled. For a long time past the boys have been most troublesome about milking, bringing in again and again no more than enough milk to fill two

pans from sixteen or eighteen cows. Of course, the milk is for the school children, and the more brought in the more they get. But though it was for their own benefit, that did not check the idleness of the milkers, who were further encouraged to shirk their work by some of the school-men, who spoke of milking as a disgusting operation, and so set the boys against doing it.

It has hitherto been the rule to give sugar for the porridge, when sufficient milk for all could not be got but it was never meant to be continued when the scarcity of milk was intentionally created.

Eight newly calved cows were lately got in with great difficulty from the bush and put into the stock-yard for the night. Next morning they were missing. No one knew how they got out, though someone must have taken the rails down to let them escape. This occurred several times, and it was evidently done to avoid the trouble of milking them. One evening Mrs. Leonard Williams stopped the sugar, saying that since they would not milk, they must do without sugar as the supply was running short, owing to the unnecessary demand made upon it. She reminded them that the greatest sufferers were the tiny children and sick babies of the very men who had cut off the supply of milk.

Next morning the men were all in a sulky mood, and no one came for the bread for breakfast. After prayers, when Mr. Leonard was arranging the work for the day, the men said they could not work without food, and did not choose to live on bread alone for breakfast, without sugar or milk. Shortly after this, eighteen of the boys

ran away, and the whole place was in a state of commotion. However, by night they came to a better mind, and one of the men came for bread for their evening meal as usual. They are just like great children – fickle, and without any apparent sense of responsibility.

February 13th. Things are going on more smoothly. Nothing more is said about sugar, but no more milk comes in, though a particularly good milker has just calved.

Paul's pig is still in the sty, and is growing quite fat. When he complains that it is killed, Mr. Leonard refers him to the sty where he will find it, but he is still so surly that he will not himself come inside the school premises, and had the impudence to bribe one of the schoolgirls to bring his child some food after dark. Of course that was against all rules, but Mrs. Leonard took good care that both his wife and child got their usual supply of milk and bread. I cannot understand how any man can allow his wife and child to be daily fed by the very persons he shows such temper against.

Two messages have just come from natives who live a mile off, telling us that some of the school cattle have got into their kumara grounds, and giving a hint that they will be killed, as they hear the pigs were which got into the kumara cultivation belonging to the school.

It is a sad fact that the Maoris about here are not to be trusted. They all – Paul included – promised the Bishop before he came from Whakato that they would keep no pigs, otherwise he would not have commenced the school farm here; but finding that pigs can profitably be grown in

the neighbourhood of the school, the Maoris have broken their word. Not long ago all the people of the pa went away to some distance for several weeks, leaving their pigs to shift for themselves. They knew where the pigs would find plenty to eat during their absence, and that was when they did so much damage amongst our crops.

The insolence of the women is on a par with that of the men, and one never knows what is going to happen from day to day. Yesterday was the day for washing the boys' clothes. Two women alternately undertake this weekly job, till it comes round to their turn again. One of those whose turn it was this week, being too ill to take it, Mrs. Williams called the next woman on the list, but she said she did not want to wash. She was told that she must unless she were ill. Then she coolly asked Mrs. Williams,

"Why do you not do it yourself?"

"Because I have other work to do for the school," was the reply, "your part is the washing, and I expect you to do it."

But she did not, and the husband of the woman she ought to have helped with the machine came to tell Mrs. Leonard that he could not allow his wife to work it alone, and there was no end of trouble before the matter in dispute could be settled.

I cannot put down in writing half the trials of temper that each day brings to us all; but I do hope and think that the girls under my charge are in decidedly better order than they were. The system of giving good and

bad marks for conduct has proved very beneficial to them.

Lucy's banns were called yesterday. She has behaved better since her engagement. Betty is engaged also, but her banns will not be called until her brother's banns are put up. There is some delay about that, caused by the opposition of the girl's relations. A man kept standing up in church during morning service last Sunday, ready to forbid the banns whenever they were called.

On Sunday evening we were startled by Betty rushing in to say that the leading man of the party who favoured her marriage had just tried to hang himself. It was the second attempt at suicide made by him that day. Mr. Volkner went to reason with him on the sin and folly of his conduct, and found the man beside himself with rage at the opposition shown to the marriage, which he said was offered by persons who were altogether beneath him in rank, and whose opposition he considered a great insult. Mr. Volkner left the poor man in a better frame of mind. He is the last person I should have thought capable of acting as he has done. He is a very quiet and respectable-looking man, and always on the most friendly terms with the Bishop.

The man whom Mr. Williams sent to report upon the damage done by the school cattle has come back to say that there was no fence of any kind round the cultivation, and that out of the mob of cattle said to have damaged the crops, only two belonged to the school, the rest to the Maoris themselves. As to the injury done to the crop, it was most trivial, only two or three kumara

plants having been trod upon. Maori-like, the whole thing had been greatly exaggerated, and if the schoolman had not been sent to find out the truth, one of the bullocks would probably have been killed as payment for the imaginary damage done by it.

February 15th. Paul gave further evidence to-day of his ill-temper and spitefulness. As it was raining heavily when he came for food for his wife and child, he gave the jug he brought to one of the girls, and told her to bring it to his house. When she did not appear he came again, and when it was given to him he said, "You had better tell Mr. Leonard that his cattle are impounded for trespassing." He looked rather taken aback when Mrs. Leonard said, "Oh, yes, we know all about that; we sent a man last night to see the damage, and he found it was nothing to speak of."

Paul came again this morning to ask Mrs. Leonard for the loan of a preserving pan to boil his plum jam in. He had to go to the other house for it, and took a very long way round to escape meeting Mr. Leonard, so great is his obstinacy, having said that he would not speak to him until the pig is let out. Yet when it suits him he can forget his pride, and ask, not only for the loan of a preserving pan, but jars to put his jam into when made. He was caught at last to-day, for on going to Mr. Leonard's house for the jam jars, the door was opened by Mr. Leonard himself, who asked him why he had of late so studiously avoided meeting him. Paul looked very cross, but at last said that he knew he had been in the wrong, and wished to be friends again. So the pig

was released, and he was pleased to find it in better condition than when he last saw it.

February 21st. Mr. Volkner, who spent Sunday at Whakato, has just returned, and brings a sad report of the H's. He could hold no English service at their house as Mrs. H. had been drinking hard all last week. She tried to destroy herself with laudanum, after which her husband, in a fit of depression, began drinking too, and then seized the laudanum bottle and swallowed the remains of its contents. When he recovered from the effects he tried to cut his throat. What a fearful example for the Maoris amongst whom these English people are living. No wonder the natives begin to doubt the truth of what the missionaries have taught them about Christianity and its requirements, when they see people born and brought up as Christians guilty of doing worse things than they themselves did when they were heathens.

February 23rd. The Bishop and Mrs. Williams returned from Auckland; we were all delighted to see them again. The natives gave them a very hearty welcome. There is no doubt they have a sincere affection for the Bishop, in spite of their want of consideration for his wishes, and their occasional acts of ingratitude.

LUCY'S WEDDING

February 29th. Lucy's wedding day. Her bridegroom came last evening to stay here and be in readiness for the ceremony. While all the other school-girls went to meet him, Lucy rushed upstairs to her room to look at

him through the window. Nor did she see him again until they met in church the next day.

After breakfast she came with me to my room, where I dressed her in a nicely trimmed buff muslin I had worn only once or twice. I also gave her boots and stockings, of which she was very proud, and a new black ribbon for her hair, which made it look more tidy than usual. If not very bridal looking in her new attire she was at least clean, and not quite so ugly as usual. Mrs. Volkner completed her dress with a pretty handkerchief for her neck, and she was evidently very pleased with herself, and with us for what we had done for her. Unfortunately, when she was met by the other girls she was told that her bridal attire was not complete without a tippet, as the last bride married from the school wore one, and so set the local fashion. Lucy then burst into tears, and disgusted me by begging for a shawl in addition to what I had already given her. I had no shawl for her, but to quiet her outcries, one of the women brought the black cape she herself was married in. It rather destroyed the bridal effect of my dressing, and did not restore her cheerfulness.

All the time she was being married she looked as ugly and cross as she could, and I felt sorry for the man who was uniting himself to such an ill-tempered creature. After the ceremony she signed her name neatly in the register, having practised the signing of it very often in school. But her husband looked much perplexed when told to sign his name, and took a long time about

it. Mr. Lot, 64 the native clergyman, placed Lucy's arm in the bridegroom's as they left the church, but as soon as they got outside she dropped it and ran off to join her school-fellows and walk back with them.

The newly married couple stayed with a brother-in-law, who is one of our people, till next day. Lucy came at night to say her prayers to me as usual, and appeared again at half-past-five in the morning to join in prayer with us. She went off soon after breakfast, carrying a large kit full of her belongings on her back, and walking, while her husband rode on horseback. This is the usual practice, but Lucy told her school friends, who escorted her along the road for some distance, that she was soon to have a horse of her own, and then she would ride too.

March 2nd. While sitting at breakfast I felt the floor moving under my feet, and had not time to ask the cause before Mr. Leonard turned to me and said, "Miss Jones, an earthquake." It was over in a few seconds, and I felt so glad that I had at last felt one that I could not help clapping my hands. I felt a little more serious on looking up and seeing the map and pictures on the wall moving and everyone looking rather pale.

March 10th. Took the girls in the direction of the

church, and on the way they bathed in the river. A kind old woman gave us some delicious peaches. After she left us, and as we passed the pa, some bad men came out, and two, who seemed to be tipsy, ran after us, using very bad language. We ran away as hard as we could nearly all the way home, and were very frightened. The next day, when we went to church, a woman told us that the men who pursued us were not tipsy, but purposely tried to frighten us, and would have done more to annoy us if an influential chief had not forced them to desist.

The rumour of war between the English and Maoris at Taranaki is increasing the spirit of lawlessness amongst the natives, and encouraging the worst of them to behave in an insolent way to any white people they come across. A native neighbour of one of the English settlers near here had a small pig, not worth more than ten shillings, which he said was bitten on the ear by the settler's dog, though no proof of the fact was given, but the dog was carried off as payment for the injury. Soon after the little pig disappeared, and its disappearance was, the owner said, owing to its having been killed by another dog belonging to the same settler, so a fine mare and foal of his were carried off as payment. Shortly afterwards the Pig was found; it had only strayed away, but the mare and foal were never returned. This kind of thing is of daily occurrence; the English can get no redress, and find that they must just grin and bear it.

The Bishop reminded us at breakfast this morning that, bad as things are, they are not so bad as they were forty years ago, and told us one or two amusing stories to prove it. A blanket was seen by him one day gradually dis-

appearing out of his bedroom window. On going to investigate he found that a Maori, who had shortly before been in the bedroom, had attached a fish-hook and line to it, and was drawing it towards himself.

On another occasion a native came to consult him about one of his eyes, which was very diseased. While the Bishop was using both his own for the benefit of the man, his patient was using one eye and both hands to possess himself of the contents of the Bishop's waistcoat pockets, and would doubtless have emptied them had his depredations not been noticed by his benefactor.

BETTY'S WEDDING

About the middle of the month Betty came back quite unexpectedly, after being away some time, and told me that it was her wedding day, and that she wanted a new frock in which to be married. Mrs. Leonard told her it was impossible to provide a new dress at such short notice, and that she ought to have applied to her before.

When I went into the room Betty was sitting in great distress with the skirt of her working dress on, and saying that she had nothing else to wear, and no jacket even to put over her shoulders. I took compassion at last, although determined, after Lucy's ingratitude, never to dress a Maori bride again. After searching amongst my things I found a very neat, white checked muslin jacket, and gave it to her, only bargaining that she should return the trimming, which was very pretty. I gave her a bow to suit her frock, and a comb and ribbons and pins for her hair.

On going into the bedroom soon after, to see if she was ready, I found she had changed her skirt for a pretty print, and as the bow I gave her did not suit it, I gave her another. I again left her, returning a few minutes later to tell her the Bishop was going to the church and that it was time to be moving. Imagine my surprise to see her wearing on the top of the neat print an old short blue muslin skirt, with three very crushed flounces and bows of blue, green, and purple ribbon, with long ends. Someone had furnished a long blue sash, quite different from my blue bow. And thus attired she marched off.

Her brother's bride looked much better, but how far she is to be congratulated upon her marriage it is hard to say at present, after what took place yesterday, when I am told she and her bridesmaids had to pursue Betty's brother on horseback, when he was in full flight, endeavouring to fulfil his father's wishes and marry another lady, who was to give his father a horse if he could persuade his son to change his mind and marry her, and forsake the handsome young widow who had wooed him under such difficulties. I thought the young widow looked very triumphant during the service, and now I know the reason why.

An immense feast followed in the pa. Eighteen pigs were consumed, and a proportionate quantity of potatoes and kumaras and all sorts of Maori delicacies. I was very sorry the schoolgirls were allowed to attend the feast, as they seem at once to revert to the objectionable ways of their people, and it takes weeks, after quite a short period of such licence, to restore school discipline amongst them.

AN EARTHQUAKE, AND RUMBLINGS OF WAR: AN ENGLISH BOX

April 17th. What is happening just now amongst the Poverty Bay Maoris shows that in spite of their many lapses and wrongdoings, they are in the main on the side of righteousness, and in spite of their vapourings they are not really disloyal to the Queen's Government.

The natives are now so disgusted with themselves for being unable to resist the temptation to buy the strong drink sold in all the stores here, that they have made a law forbidding purchases of any kind to be made at a store where intoxicating drinks are sold. They have stationed policemen at these stores, armed with muskets to prevent any person entering them. The consequence is that they are just now, in this cold weather, very badly off for blankets and warm clothing. The Bishop has agreed to allow one of our school-men to go and buy thirty pounds worth of woollen goods, and sell them to those who want them. At the same time he told the chiefs that it would be wiser to forbid the sale of intoxicating drinks only, and not to stop all trade.

After hearing so much talk against the English Government, and so many threats regarding the expulsion of all Europeans from this district, it is a great and pleasant surprise to hear that there is a movement on foot amongst the pa natives to send a contingent to help the Governor against the Taranaki natives. Great indignation is expressed by many of the leading chiefs here at the hostility shown to Europeans by the Taranaki people.

April 23rd. Just before going into the school I felt an earthquake, and saw the pictures swaying about on the walls. The whole house moved as if rollers were passing under it, and the Maoris were all crying out, "He Ru!" – an earthquake.

April 24th. Mrs. Williams and Maria arrived in a little sailing vessel called the Satellite, from Auckland, after a long passage of eighteen days, during which they encountered very bad weather. They bring sad news from Taranaki, where three Europeans have been murdered in cold blood. Humphrey and Emma are both at the seat of war, so I am thankful to be here quietly at work.

April 27th. My English box has come, and thanks to the care taken in packing it, and having it lined with tin, I am spared the vexation and sorrow of seeing its contents spoilt, in the same way that the contents of Mrs. Williams's are, with salt water. While landing the boxes the careless natives left them on the beach too near to the advancing tide, and they got thoroughly soaked. It was sad to see all the new dresses Mrs. Williams had bought for herself and her daughters having to be steeped in fresh water and hung up to dry. The whole of the clothes lines and pegs were called into requisition, and every clothes horse we could get hold of. Five hundred hymn books and Testaments had all to be carefully opened out and dried. Two beautiful coloured pictures were quite destroyed.

When we had finished spreading out the contents of all Mrs. Williams's boxes to dry, I proceeded to open

mine. The girls were all in a great state of excitement about its contents, knowing as they did, from what I had told them, that there were many presents in it for them. "What kind friends Miss Jones has in England; their riches must be very great when they can send her such a variety of things to give away."

They looked a little disappointed at first when they found that other schools were to share the contents of the box with them, but on each getting a nice bag, and a gay coloured handkerchief, they went off full of glee to discuss their presents with one another. What a pleasure an English box gives when, like this, it is full of gifts from dear friends, who seem very near as one handles the things they have sent; and still more so when, as in dear Cassie's 65 case, the gifts are accompanied by photographs of the donors. The likenesses seem to bring one into actual touch with them.

Mrs. Williams's return relieved me from my self-imposed task of managing her girls' school during her absence, and I began soon after to prepare for my own departure for Auckland. No suitable opportunity occurred until the middle of June, so meantime I continued to carry on all the duties I had undertaken in connection with the school.

TO AUCKLAND IN THE WHITE SWAN

On the morning of Tuesday, 26th June, I was seated as usual at half-past ten, teaching my girls in the schoolroom, when Maria Williams came in to tell me that

the White Swan was at Turanganui, and would only wait about an hour, till they could collect the chiefs belonging to this part of the East Coast, who were going to attend Governor Grey's conference at Kohimarama.

It seemed at the moment an impossibility to pack, and catch the steamer, which was anchored ten miles away, at such short notice, but we made a desperate effort to do so. Fortunately most of my things were already packed in readiness for a sudden flight, so I quickly filled my portmanteau and tiny bonnet box for one of the natives to carry down on his back, and then Mr. Leonard Williams and I mounted our horses and started off as hard as we could go, splashing the mud over one another as we tore through the swamps and bogs that lay between us and the harbour.

We reached the coast just in time; the steam was up, the whistle blowing, and the last boat ready to leave the beach. I hastened behind a clump of bushes to change my skirt, which was wet and muddy to the waist, for a travelling dress I had brought with me in a Maori basket.

We found fifteen Maori chiefs on board, all of whom behaved as well as could be. Several of them spoke English, and all were well dressed. They occupied the ladies' cabin and the saloon. I was the only woman on board, and occupied the nice little cabin which Humphrey and Emma had when we went to Wellington last year. I hoped to enjoy a comfortable passage, but my hopes were doomed to disappointment, as it turned out to be about the most wretched I had experienced, not excepting even the Hope.

To begin with, we had high contrary winds and rough seas the whole time. I suffered from incessant sea-sickness, and found no relief during the twenty-four hours we were anchored in Hicks Bay, where I would gladly have gone on deck for a breath of fresh air, but was too much in terror of a tipsy steward, who the previous evening had fallen through my open door on to the floor of my cabin. To protect myself from any repetition of the same sort of thing, and from any attention to my wants by him, I fastened my door, and never opened it till I reached Auckland four days afterwards. I had nothing to eat or drink all that time but a loaf of bread and the water in the bottle on the rack in my cabin.

I was sorry not to see Hicks Bay from the deck, as what I could see of it through my little porthole window showed me that it was a pretty place, and I was still more sorry because, being one of the old homes of the Kisslings and Stacks, I should like to have been able to tell them that I had seen it.

Crossing the Bay of Plenty we lost our bowsprit, and entered Auckland Harbour on Saturday evening in a very dilapidated condition. The few hours rest I hoped to get before dawn was destroyed by the horrid noise made outside my cabin by the tipsy steward, who was swearing and tumbling about in the saloon all night long. I dressed at daybreak, and then, for the first time since embarking, saw Mr. Williams, who said he was too ill to come to me before.

We left the ship together, and began our long walk to Mrs. Kissling's to breakfast; how ever I managed to walk the two miles up and down hill in my exhausted

state I do not know. I felt as if I must fall at every step I took, but managed to reach the Kisslings before collapsing. A little food soon restored me, and dear, kind Mrs. Kissling was so thoughtful and sympathetic. She and the Archdeacon and Sarah and Mary Ashwell gave me a very warm welcome. I heard much about the war from them, and began to see how wrong Governor Browne and his advisers were in hurrying on the seizure of the Waitara land.

Humphrey and Emma are still at Taranaki, in the midst of all the strife, but quite safe from the hostile natives. I found kind letters from them awaiting me here, in which they beg me to go to them, but I have decided to stay with Mrs. Kissling till they return to Auckland.

July 2nd. Sent early for such letters as were at the Post Office directed to Poverty Bay. I was walking up the Parnell hill with Mrs. Kissling when I opened one from Christchurch. She was the first to recognise the hand. Its contents surprised me very much. I tried to be a good deal alone that day, and earnestly sought Divine direction about it.

LAST DAYS IN AUCKLAND

Monday, July 9th. Answered my Christchurch letter. That I may be directed by God and do His will was my heart's real prayer while doing so.

I hear that the conference of native chiefs being held at Kohimarama is giving great satisfaction. Burning questions are being discussed in a very sensible manner,

with dignity and self-restraint. But the principal men in it think that little can be done now to allay the suspicion which has taken root in the native mind that the English intend to dispossess them of their lands. It is a thousand pities that such a conference as this was not summoned long ago, and proof given to the Maoris that their interests were as much an object of solicitude to the Government as the interests of the white people. As a matter of fact the interests of the Maoris have been completely ignored, and it is only now that an attempt is being made to legislate for their benefit.

August 7th. Emma arrived quite unexpectedly while I was at breakfast. I was very glad to see her and to hear all her news about Humphrey. We have decided not to go out of an evening, or to attend any sort of amusements, as it seems more suitable to keep as quiet as possible during this sad time of anxiety and sorrow. We find the days go quickly enough reading together, and working and writing and practising our music.

Friday, 18th. Fully expected the White Swan and letters from the south, but there are no signs of her appearing, and I try to be patient.

Monday, 21st. The Persia, with my English "Christmas Tree" box on board has just come in. I long for my box, but even more for that White Swan. When will she arrive? Six weeks yesterday since I wrote.

Tuesday, 22nd. The White Swan came in first thing this morning. No letters could be got until the afternoon. Emma and I walked to Parnell and paid some calls. Met Macey taking Mrs. Selwyn's letters. Longed to ask for

mine, and quite expected to find them awaiting me on my return, but was much disappointed. None came. Heard the door bell at dusk, and fancied J. S. perhaps had come himself – but it was only the bell for candles.

Wednesday, 23rd. Went to see Mrs. Kissling, and met Bishop Selwyn on the way. He told me that the English mail had come, and had brought news that our mutual friend, Judge Martin, is knighted – a well-deserved honour.

Sarah Ashwell sent me a very interesting letter from her father. By his influence he was the means of preventing several of the Waikato chiefs from joining Wiremu Kingi at Taranaki. This war might have been prevented had it not been rushed into at the instigation of interested persons who coveted the Maoris' land, and wanted them to be forced to sell to Europeans.

Monday, September 3rd. At last letters from the south. All is well. I feel very thankful and happy. The letters had been brought by a small sailing vessel which had to contend against baffling winds all the way.

September 16th. The announcement of my engagement to Mr. Stack has given great pleasure to all my friends, and especially to the Montressor Smiths, Kisslings. and Bishop and Mrs. Selwyn, and the Martins, from all of whom I have received hearty congratulations. Our marriage will not take place until after J's. ordination, which takes place at the end of December. I have promised to make J's. first surplice and bands, and if he is to get them in time for his ordination they must be ready to be forwarded early in November, as the communication

between this place and Christchurch is so very irregular and it is impossible to tell how long a letter or parcel will take to get there. The only regular communication between Wellington and Lyttelton at present is kept up by a top-sail schooner.

December 18th. The ordination will take place on the 23rd, and J. will leave by the first opportunity after that, for Wellington, where he hopes to join the Robert Lowe, a troop ship just arrived from England with reinforcements, which will sail for Taranaki about the middle of January. Bishop Abraham is coming by the same vessel to take part in the consecration of Mr. Patteson, the Bishop-elect of Melanesia.

January 25th. The bazaar for which we have all been working so hard took place to-day in Mr. Matson's paddock. While I was helping Mrs. Selwyn at her stall and had a little black marble tray in my hand, which I was endeavouring to dispose of, Mr. Burrows 66 came up to me with the glad news that the Robert Lowe was in, and that he had just come from seeing J., who wants to know where I can meet him. Mrs. Selwyn, who overheard the news, at once said, "At the Deanery." I asked her what I should do with the little tray. "Keep it, my dear, as a memento." Off I went, and found Mrs. Selwyn's old nurse alone in the house. I told her what I had come for, which interested her very much. In a few minutes a knock at the door was followed by the entry of my long expected visitor. Needless to say, we

were very happy to be together at last. We went to the Government Domain, where we found a retired spot, from which we had a beautiful view of the harbour, from our seat beneath the shade of a puriri tree.

OUR WEDDING

Monday, January 28th. Our wedding took place at eleven o'clock to-day, at St. Stephen's, Taurarua. On reaching the church I was taken aback not to find my bridegroom there. Mr. Swainson, his best man, could give me no information about him. Bishop Selwyn advised me to sit down, and I tried to keep calm. I had not many minutes to wait before a stir at the entrance of the chapel told me that he had come. The service proceeded, and we were soon happily united in the bonds of holy matrimony.

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49 William Leonard Williams, afterwards the second Bishop Williams, was then twenty-nine years of age, and had been married about six years. He was consecrated Bishop of Waiapu in 1895, and died 24th August, 1916.

50 Miss Jones's sister-in-law, Mrs. Humphrey Jones.

51 On 30th June Miss Jones had left Auckland for Tauranga in the 12-ton cutter Hope, which did not reach its desired haven until 9th July.

52 Early in 1838 Rev. William Williams, in company with Messrs. Colenso. Stack and Matthews, proceeded from the Bay of Islands to Hicks Hay in the mission schooner, and thence overland to Poverty Bay, where they were well received, the natives requesting that a mission station might be established there. In November of the same year Rev. Henry Williams took down a party of native teachers to the East Coast, and established three of them at Poverty Bay.

Rev. W. Williams settled at Poverty Bay early in 1840, and by the following year eight or nine thousand of the East Coast natives were under Christian influence.

By the fifties the missionary and his helpers found the original station, comprising eight acres at Whakato, "too strait" for them, and a block of nearly six hundred acres, eight miles distant, was made over to them at Waerenga-a-hika by a neighbouring tribe. The change over was effected in 1857, and it was to this new settlement that Miss Jones came a couple of years later. At Whakato, visited by James West Stack as a boy, may still be seen some venerable oaks planted by the first Bishop Williams about a century ago. (Christianity Among the New Zealanders. Bishop W. Williams, 1867. East Coast Historical Records. Bishop W. L. Williams. For Stack's visits to Whakato in the early forties see Early Maoriland Adventures. ) For some local information I am greatly indebted to Mrs. Douglas Blair.

53 Arthur Kempthorne. Born in London 1841. Family arrived at Auckland 1841. Engaged by Bishop Williams as a teacher at the mission station. Became a well-known sheep-farmer. Was present at the liege and fall of the pa at Waerenga-a-hika during the Hauhau invasion of Poverty Bay, and later took part in the engagements against Te Kooti (Cyclopaedia of New Zealand,)

54 Bishop Leonard Williams, in East Coast Historical Records, states that C. P. Baker had charge of the boys at Waerenga-a-hika from September 1857 until March, 1859. He was probably a son of Rev. Charles Baker, who had been in charge of a mission station at the East Coast.

55 In the preceding year Miss Jones had visited Rev. Thomas Chapman and his wife at the Maketu mission station.

56 Carl Sylvius Volkner had arrived to take charge of the Maori boys at the station. He had been teaching at Tauranga, and prior to that had been a fellow-catechist with J. W. Stack on Dr. Maunsell's mission station at Kohanga on the lower Waikato. On March 2, 1865, he was barbarously murdered by the Hauhaus at his mission station at Opotiki.

57 Celia Brown, only daughter of Archdeacon A. N. Brown, of the Tauranga mission station. Her husband was Rev. (afterwards Doctor) John Kinder who, since 1855, had been headmaster of the Church of England Grammar School.

58 Colonel Sir Thomas Gore Browne (1807-1887) served in the first Afghan war, and was made a C. B. He was afterwards Governor successively of St. Helena, New Zealand (1855-1861) and Tasmania.

59 Dillon Bell (1851-1936). At this time he held the position of Commissioner of Land Claims. For full information concerning him, see The Life and Times of Sir Francis H. D. Bell. Hon. W. D. Stewart, 1937.

60 Herbert S. Wardell the Gisborne (then known as Turanga) Resident Magistrate, a recent arrival from England, seems to have been unpopular with the settlers, between whom and the natives there was already evidence of friction. {Life in Early Poverty Bay. Gisborne Publishing Company, 1927.)

61 "The reception of His Excellency the Governor by the natives of Poverty Bay was just what might have been expected from the reception given to the Land Commissioner... At the school, those who were under pupilage were, of course, polite enough, but the main body of the natives showed themselves surly and disaffected to the last degree. They freely ask in the district what business the Governor has there bringing the Queen's flag amongst them." (The Southern. Cross, January 28, 1860.)

62 The Bishop was skilled in surgery, but it will be remembered he was absent in Auckland.

63 The Bishop, accompanied by his womenfolk and children, was, in fact, compelled to abandon the station in 1865, the episcopal residence being used as the fortress of the British troops. Leonard Williams remained behind to endeavour to counteract the deadly Hauhau influence, and to minister to the remnant of the Maori flock. The Bishop went to Paihia, and two years later established a new home at Napier, which then became the headquarters of the diocese.

64 Mr. Lot – Rev. Rota Waitoa – was the first ordained Maori clergyman, He belonged to a southern tribe, but his wife was an East Coast Maori. He was ordained deacon by Bishop Selwyn in 1853, and priest by Bishop Williams in 1860. On January 3, 1843, Selwyn arrived at the Manukau, on his return from his journey afoot overland from Kapiti, via Poverty Bay and the East Coast, with blistered feet and worn-out shoes tied to his insteps with flax. Nearing Auckland he avoided the town and took a path to Judge Martin's house, passing over land which, runs a classic passage in his Journal, "I have bought for the site of a cathedral; a spot which I hope may hereafter be traversed by the feet of many Bishops, better shod and far less ragged than myself." Throughout this heroic and toilsome journey he was accompanied by the faithful and devoted Rota Waitoa {History of St. John's College, Davis; and Selwyn's Visitation Journal)

65 Miss Jones's sister. Mrs. Robert Wyllie, whose husband was in the East India Company's service.

66 Rev. Robert Burrows (1812-1807) was the Clerical Secretary of the C. M. S. in New Zealand.

INDEX.

INDEX

[Page 248 is blank]

INDEX

Abraham, Bishop, 23, 27, 27n, 29n, 33, 79. 244
Addderley Head, 55
Airedale, the, 26
Akaroa, 6, 33n, 52, 58, 60, 61, 61n
Alderman Rock, 189
Andrew, 208-210, 213
Anki, Mary, 216
Armitage, James, 150, 150n
Arnica, 130
Artesian wells in Christchurch, 7
Ashwell, Rev. B. Y. and family, 20, 21, 22, 79, 148, 149, 151, 151n l63, 179, 241, 243
Auckland, 16-20, 35. 78, 79, 80-96, 108, 110, 113, 122, 123, 126, 131, 137, 148, 181, 183, 210, 232n, 238, 240-245
Aylmer, Rev. William, 6, 6n, 60, 61
Aylmer's Valley, 6n
Baker, Charles, 200n
Baker, C. P., 200, 200n
Banks Peninsula. 3-6, 10, 44-74
Barton, Moses, 62
Bayley, Robert, 61n
Bay of Islands, 19n
Bay of Plenty, 240
"Beggars' Retreat," 117, 122
Bell, Dillon, 217, 217n, 218
Belligny, Monseignor, 61n
Bennett, Registrar-General, 17, 18
Betrothals, Maori, 158, 159
Betty, 228, 234
Birds, 65n, 66, 67, 109, 141
Birds, Song of, 58, 105, 139
Black, Captain, 186
Blackett, 83, 187
Bob, 36, 36n, 37
Brandon, Miss, 38n
Broughton, Bishop, 29n
Brown, Archdeacon A. N., 79, 215n
Brown, Celia, 215, 215n
Buchanan, Hon. Dr, 3, 81, 81n, 83, 125, 126
Buchanan family, 17, 91, 125, 181
Buchanan, Jenny, 97, 100, 115, 122, 123, 124
Buchanan, Emma. (See Jones, Mrs Humphrey S.)
Buggy, 35, 36
Buller, Rev. James, 33, 33n, 34n
Buller, Sir Walter Lawry, 33n, 34n, 41, 41n, 42, 52, 59, 60
Burrows, Rev. Robert, 18, 244, 244n
Cam, 10
Camerontown, 150n
Canoes, 85, 86, 88, 97, 98
Canterbury, climate of, 5
Carlton Gore, 184
"Castle Rising," 115
Catherine, the, 104n

Chapman, Rev. Thomas and Mrs, 79, 214, 214n
Cholmondeleys, the, 51, 5n
Christchurch, 3, 7, 8, 33, 36, 63, 80, 241
Christ's College, 8
Church, Maori, 104, 105, 170, 171
Clerk, Alec, 91
Clovernook, 181
Coco, 61, 61n
Codrington, Dr, 11
Colenso, Wm, 19n
Cook, Captain, 104n, 190
Cooking, Maori, 167-168
Cooper, 202, 220, 221
Coromandel Mountains, 102, 105
Cotterill, Rev. George and Mrs, 8, 8n, 9
Cousins, Mrs, 107
Cracroft, Captain, 218
Crayfish, 60
Cressy, the, 38n
Crowe, Catherine, 149, 149n. 176
Crowther, Samuel, 92
Damper, 146, 147
De Quincy, 77
"Despatch Box," 111
De Witte, 116, 117
Dialects, Difference in North and South Island, 21, 22, 22n
Dinapore, the, 78, 81
Dolphin, the, 184, 188, 190, 193
Douglas, 98
Dover, Mrs, 93
Dromedary, the, 104n
Dudley, Rev. Benjamin Woolley, 38, 38n, 39
Dunedin, 38n, 61
East Cape, 120
East Coast, 79, 221
Eden, Mount, 89
Ellesmere, 65n, 67
"Emma's Delight," 106
Eteveneaux, Marie Judith, 61n
Fields, the, 51
Finger Point, 106
Fire, Swamp, 222, 223
Flagstaff Hill, 82, 88
Flemings, the, 51
Flour mill, 53, 54
Forsyth, Lake, 65, 65n, 66, 67
Fox, Sir William, 29, 29n, 30
Gay, Captain, 62
Geelong, the, 58
George, 98, 100, 115, 117, 118, 123, 130, 177, 179
German Bay, 38, 61n
"Go-ashore Cove," 107
Gore Browne, Colonel Sir Thomas, 217, 217n, 218, 219, 219n, 220, 241
Gore Browne, Mrs, 92, 211
Gorst, John Eldon (Rt Hon.), 20, 20n, 21
Gorst, Sir (John) Eldon, 20n
Government House, 90, 93
Grace, Dr, 13
Gravesend, 78, 81
Graveyard, Desecration of, 31-33
Great Barrier Island, 186
Gresson, Mrs, 11
Grey, Mount, 38
Grey, Sir George, 20n, 29M, 41n, 239
H., Mr and Mrs, 230
Hadfield, Bishop Octavius, 29, 29n, 31. 32, 33
Hakari, 203-207
Hami, 170
Hangis, 167, 168
"Happy Jack." See "Wesley, John"
Harata, 208, 213
Harper, Bishop, 3, 11, 80
Hauraki, Gulf of, 95, 186
Hawke, 178, 179
Hicks Bay, 19n, 240
Hobhouse, Bishop, 11, 21
Holt, 13

Hope, the, 185, 185n, 186, 189, 239
Hopohopo, 159, 160
Hori, Pita Te, 3, 4
Horokiri (Horokiwi) Valley, 27
"Hospitality Lodge," 179
Hospitality, Maori, 49, 50, 64, 65, 68-73, 113
Hot Lakes, 79
Howick, 39
Huruhi, 107
Ihaia, 10
Italy, 80
Jerry, 144
Johnston, Judge, 11, 11n, 33
Jones, Cassie. See Wyllie, Mrs Captain
Jones, Rev. David, 18
Jones, Eliza Rachel Jean, Memoir, 77; sails from Gravesend, 81; reaches Auckland, 82; settles at St George's Bay, 83; first impressions of Auckland, 84; acquaintance with Auckland and its people, 87; brother's marriage changes plans, 91; present at Christmas Feast at St John's, 92; plans excursion Hauraki Gulf, 95; a week on the Hauraki Gulf, first day, 97; second day, 101; third day, 105; fourth day, 109; fifth day, 113; sixth day, 118; seventh day, 122; a visit to the Waikato, first day, 127; second day, 135; third day, 140; fourth day, 146; fifth day, 149; sixth day, 153; seventh day, 156; eighth day, 162; ninth day, 171; tenth day, 177; eleventh day, 180; goes to Turanga, 183; arrives at Mission Station, 192; begins to teach at Mission, 212; the school breaking-up feast, 204; taking class at the Mission, 212; assists at native weddings, 230; leaves for Auckland, 239; last days in Auckland, 241; future husband arrives, 244; wedding, 245
Jones, Frank, 95
Jones, Humphrey, 77
Jones, Commissary-General Humphrey S., C. B., 11, 12, 12n, 26, 78, 81, 82, 83, 90, 91, 92, 93, 95, 97, 107, 109, 110, 111, 121, 123, 124 127, 181, 182, 183, 185, 201, 237, 239, 241, 242
Jones, Mrs Humphrey S. (Emma), 78, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 97, 98, 101, 105, 107, 109, 116, 117, 120, 123, 127, 181, 185, 187, 201, 237, 239
Kaiapoi, 3, 10, 33n, 34, 36-43, 52, 54 59, 63
Kapiti, 27, 29n
Kauri, 103, 104, 104n
Kemble, Harriet, 161
Kempthorne, Arthur, 192, 192n, 195, 200
Kiekie, 203
Kingdon, Mrs, 93, 181
Kinder, Dr John, 215n,
Kingi, Wiremu, 243
Kissling, Archdeacon and Mrs, 25, 91, 92, 93, 94, 240, 241, 243
Kohanga, 20, 21, 22, 214n
Kohimarama, 24, 25, 239, 241
Konos, 168
Kooti, Te, 192n
"Kuia Grove," 137, 179
Land League movement, 164
Langlois, Captain, 58n
Latter, Robert, 33, 33n, 52, 53
Little River, 3, 5, 59, 64 65

Livingstone, David, 157
Lloyd, Archdeacon, 17
Llynon, 95, 132
Lord Ashley, the, 190
Lot. See Waitoa, Rota
Lucy, 202, 212, 228, 230, 231, 232, 234
Lyttelton, 3, 33, 35, 38n 45,51, 53, 54, 62, 63, 67, 68, 244
Macaster, Mr and Mrs, 103, 104
Macey, 242
Maketu, 79, 214n
Malcolm, Mr and Mrs, 187, 188, 189
Manahi, Ani, 46
Manahi, Ira, 49, 50
Manawatu, 29, 31
Mangawhara, 159
Manukau, 21, 89, 131, 148, 232n
Maori Bush, 37, 38
Maori Reserves, 41, 42, 50, 52
Maoris, conditions of life in villages on Banks Peninsula, 44-50
Maraea, 213
Marsland Hill, 14
Martin, Sir William, 35, 243
Mary, 168, 213, 216
Mason, Rev. J., 31, 31n, 32, 33
Matson's Paddock, 244
Matthews, 19n
Maunsell, Dr, 21, 22, 24, 79, 214n
Mechanics Bay, 85, 124
Melanesian Mission, 11, 22, 84
Melanesians, 20, 23, 24, 25, 93, 94, 127
Melon Bay, 119, 120
Melon Beach, 117, 119, 121
Mercury Islands, 189
Meremere, 143, 145
Monro, Sir David, 27
Montressor-Smith, Captain and Mrs, 10, 10n, 19, 35, 39, 78, 126, 129, 131, 132, 133, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 140, 142, 143, 146, 147, 152, 161, 17l 173, 175, 177, 178, 180, 181, 201, 243
Moore, Lorenzo, 20n
"Morepork Cove," 102
Moses, 87, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 111, 119, 123
Mosquito Bay, 111
Mosquito Valley, 113
Motunau Point, 38
Mould, Colonel, 217
Muddy Creek, 115
Mutton birds, 49, 50
Napier, 22n
Nelson, 11, 26, 27, 29n, 79
New Plymouth, 13-15, 26
Nichol See Scotch Jock.
Nicholls, John. See Scotch Jock
Niger, the, 218
Nikau, 119
Onehunga, 79
Onion, 98, 99, 100, 101, 115, 119, 122, 123, 131
Onuku, 52, 59, 60
Opotiki, 214n
Opukutahi, 58n
Otahuhu, 129, 130, 180
Otaki, 29, 29n, 31
Otaki, Church at, 31
Oysters, 86, 87
Paekakariki, 28
Paihia, 29n, 221n
Panmure, 126, 127, 129, 181
Pannikin, method of cleaning, 59
Papakura, 129, 131, 180
Parnell, 241, 242
Patteson, Bishop John Coleridge, 22, 23, 24, 127, 244
Paul, 223, 224, 226, 229
Paul, "Mr," 103, 104
Paul, "Mrs," 105
Peach trees, 144, 145, 145n
Pemberton, 92, 98, 181

Persia, the, 242
Peter, 110, 128
Picton, 38n
Pigeon Bay, 61
Pitau, 97
Planet, the, 200
Poha titi, 49, 50
Poihipi, 46, 49
Porirua harbour, 27
Port, the, 200, 201
Port Levy, 4, 5, 45-50, 53, 54, 55, 58
Postal arrangements in the sixties, 10, 10n
Potau, 130, 179
Poverty Bay, 80, 183, 100-238, 241
Prendergast, Dr, 90
Pteris Grove, 188
Putiki Bay, 111, 113, 117
Rahera, 200, 201, 202, 213
Rangiora, 38n, 40
Rangiriri, 148, 164
Rangiriri, meeting at, 164, 166
Rangitikei, 30, 32
Rangitoto, 82, 99, 186
Rapaki, 58n, 68, 68n
Rattray, Mr and Mrs James, 61
Ratu, 130, 164
Rauparaha, Tamihana Te, 27, 27n, 28
Rauparaha, Te, 29n
Reid, Rev. Alexander, 89, 89n, 90
Remuera Church, 17 Rewi, 20n
Robert, 98, 100, 115, 119, 123
Robert Lowe, the, 16, 244
Rough, Captain, 82
Rua, 190
Russell, Lord John, 87n
Sabbath, Maori's respect for, 22, 22n, in St George's Bay, 83, 86, 181
St John's College, 16, 27n, 93, 94, 126, 127
St Matthew's Church, Auckland, 18
St Paul's Church, Auckland, 23, 24, 93
St Stephen's Church, Taurarua, 18, 19, 91, 245
St Stephen's, Kaiapoi, 39; fire at, 40
St Stephen's School, 92, 93
Satellite, the, 237
Schnapper Bay, 123
Scotch Jock, 28, 28n
Selina, 208-210
Selwyn, Bishop G. A., 16, 17, 19, 23, 24, 27n, 84, 91, 94, 106, 126, 232n, 243
Selwyn, Mrs, 93, 94, 126, 242, 243, 244, 245
Shepherd, Alexander, 127, 127n, 128, 135, 136, 140, 147, 149, 151, 157, 158, 173, 176, 178, 180
Sinclair, Dr, 3
Sinclair, Mount, 4
Sinclairs, 61, 62, 62n
Shins Castle, the, 28
Smith. See Montressor Smith
"Spun Yarn," 59
Stack, James, 34n, 19n
Stack, James West, memoir, xiii, leaves Dunedin for Christchurch, 3; visits Kaiapoi, 3; goes to Little River, 3; to Port Levy, 4; makes acquaintance of Rev. W. Aylmer, 6; friendship with Rev. G. Cotterill, 8; writes to Miss Jones, 10; visits Banks Peninsula, 10; receives acceptance of proposal, 11; leaves for Auckland, 11; visits New Plymouth, 11; trip to Waitara, 13; reaches Auckland, 16; wedding day, 18; to Waikato for honeymoon, 21;

at consecration of Bishop Pateson, 23; leaves for South Island, 26; at Nelson, 26; at Wellington, 27; visits Tamihana Te Rauparaha, 27; visits Fox in Rangitikei district, 29; at Otaki, 31; in Wellington and Christchurch, 33; from Christchurch to Kaiapoi, 35; reaches new home at German Bay, 37; first neighbours, 38; friendship with Walter Buller, 41; Maori Church, 42; takes Mrs Stack on visitation to Banks Peninsula, 44; completion of pastoral visitation, 58; the hospitality of "Happy Jack" at Rapaki, 64
Stack, Mrs J. W. See Jones, Eliza Rachel Jean
Steele, Mrs, 16
Stevenson, Alan, 77
Steward, Captain, 217
Swainson, Attorney-General, 19, 78, 87, 87n, 88, 89, 95, 96, 97, 99, 100, 102, 106, 108, 109, 111, 1l6, 117, 119, 121, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 129, 131, 132, 135, 137, 140, 141, 142, 143, 147, 148, 151, 154, 156, 157, 159, 164, 170, 171, 172, 173, 174, 175, 178, 179, 245
Tahea, Teone. See "Wesley, John"
Tahitians, 169, 172
Tancred, Henry, 11
Taranaki, 11-15, 233, 236, 237, 241, 243, 244
Tarawhiti, Heta, 159
Taupiri, 150-163, 164
Tauranga, 79, 189, 214, 215, 215n
Taurarua, 87
Taylor, Mrs, 27
Te Awamutu, 20n
"Ten Mile Bush," 141, 182
Te Papa, 12
Terraces, Pink and White, 79
Terry, 130
Thistles, 13
Thompson, William, 111, 120, 123, 125
Thorne, Miss, 211
Three Kings, 88, 89
Three Kings, caves at, 88, 89, 90
Three Kings College, 88, 89, 89n, 90
Tikao, Hone Taara, J. P., 58n
Tikao, Mairehe, 58n
Tikao, Tamate, 4, 5, 6, 58, 58n
Toi, 103
Totara, 5, 6
Tripe, Dr William Borrowdale, 38, 38n, 39
Tuakau, 138
Turanga (nui), 80, 190-238, 214, 218, 218n, 239
Turanga nui a Rua, 190
Tuturau, 68n
Typhoid fever, in Lyttelton and Christchurch, 3, 6, 7
Typhus, 77
Utu, 33
Vale Royal, 51
Vessel at Port Levy. 53-57
Volkner, Carl Sylvius, 79, 214, 214n, 215, 222, 228, 230
Volkner, Mrs, 231
Waeckerle, 61, 61n
Waerenga-a-hika, 191n, 192n, 200n
Waiheke Island, 78, 80, 95, 97, 125, 126, 128, 130, 131
Waikanae River, 28
Waikare Lake, 165
Waikato, 20, 20n, 21, 78, 79, 80, 126-182, 243
Waimakariri, 36
Wainui, 52, 58, 59

Waipara Hills, 38
Wairewa, 58n
Waitara, 13, 221, 241
Waitoa, Rota, 232, 232n
Waiuku, 148
Wakefield, Captain, 29n
Wakefield, Colonel,29n
Walters, 139, 140, 145, 174, 177, 178
Wanganui, 31n, 32
Wardell, Herbert S., 211, 218, 218n
War in Taranaki, 12-15
Watene, 149, 150
Water difficulties, 39, 40
Wellington, 11, 26, 27, 31, 33, 38n, 79, 183, 239, 244
"Wesley, John," 68, 68n, 69-73
Westoe, 28, 29, 30, 31
Wetene, 156
Whakato, 19n, 226, 230
Whanganui. See Wanganui
Whangaroa, 34n
Whau, 120, 120n
White Swan, the, 190, 211, 215, 239, 242
Whittaker, Frederick (Sir), 17, 18
Williams, Bishop William, 79, 80
Williams, Ellie, 200
Williams, Freddy, 186
Williams, Rev. Henry, 191n
Williams, Miss Kate, 184, 183, 190, 193, 216
Williams, Maria, 193, 199, 237, 238
Williams, Bishop William, 79, 80, 191n, 192n, 193, 194, 195, 197, 198, 202, 203, 204, 205, 207, 208, 209, 210, 220n, 221, 221n, 222, 226, 230, 232n, 233, 234, 235, 236
Williams, William Leonard, 183n, 184, 185, 186, 187, 188, 189, 191, 192, 195, 200, 201, 202, 207, 211, 212, 213, 216, 219, 220, 221, 221n, 223, 224, 225, 226, 228, 229, 232, 239-240
Williams, Mrs William Leonard, 183, 184, 185, 193, 194. 195, 196, 197, 199, 200, 201, 203, 207, 210, 211, 213, 2l6, 221, 223, 224, 225, 226, 227, 229, 234, 237, 238
Wilson, Rev. James A., 12, 12n, 14, 15
Worthing, 80
Wyllie, Mrs Captain Robert, 78, 238, 238n
Wynyard, Major-General Robert Henry, and Mrs, 90, 90n
Wynyard Pier, 124
Young's accommodation house, 179

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ROBERT MAUNSELL, LL.D. By Henry Wily and Herbert Maunsell. The life story of Archdeacon Maunsell. Illustrated. First edition limited to 500 signed copies..............7/6

MARSDEN OF MAORILAND. By A. H. Reed. A popular and ably-written account of the apostle of New Zealand. Illustrated jacket and frontispiece in full colour................6/-

WITH THE CAMELIERS IN PALESTINE. By John R. Robertson. Profusely illustrated with maps and photographs..................10/6

FURTHER MAORILAND ADVENTURES OF J. W. and E. STACK. Edited by A. H. Reed. Foreword by Archbishop Averill. The third volume of the Stack Recollections................7/6
– – – – – Also edition de luxe, signed and numbered, 15/-.

THE HOUSE OF TEMPLEMORE. By Pat Lawlor. First novel by this author who has established a reputation in other fields of literature. The scenes mainly laid in Wellington in early twentieth century...........7/6

LEARNING TO LIVE. By Elizabeth Bryson, M. A., M. D. An important book dealing with social problems, such as Love, Food, Education, Sex, Marriage..........4/6

PLUME OF THE ARAWAS. By F. O. V. Acheson, Judge of the Native Land Court. A popular reprint of this celebrated novel of early Maori tribal life, love and war..................4/6

A. H. AND A. W. REED

33 JETTY ST, DUNEDIN, and 182 WAKEFIELD ST.

WELLINGTON, NEW ZEALAND

Halstead Press Pty Limited,
9-19 Nickson Street, Sydney

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New Zealand,(North Island)
To illustrate the Life and Journeys of James West Stack
Drawn by A. W. Reed

New Zealand,(South Island)
To illustrate the Life and Journeys of James West Stack
Drawn by A. W. Reed

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