Mahoe Leaves: being a Selection of Sketches of New Zealand and its Inhabitants, and Other Matters Concerning them

Thomas Moser

First published by H. I. Jones and Son. in 1888

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

Epub © 2013 Early New Zealand Books Collection

ISBN 978-1-927289-37-2

[TITLE PAGES]

MAHOE LEAVES:

BEING a
SELECTION OF SKETCHES
OF
NEW ZEALAND
AND ITS INHABITANTS,
AND OTHER MATTERS CONCERNING THEM.

BY THOMAS MOSER.

SECOND EDITION.

WANGANUI, N.Z.:
H. I. JONES & SON, VICTORIA AVENUE.
1888.

[Page ii is blank]

[PREFACE]

PREFACE.

IN presenting the following series of sketches to the reader, it may be appropriate to say a few words by way of introduction, in order that the purpose for which they have been written may be clearly indicated at the outset.

First, then, it has been attempted, let the experienced colonist say with what measure of success, to give a faithful delineation of Maori life and character, not in the form of dry didactic essays, but rather in that of separate descriptive narratives where fictitious characters, forming types of classes, are introduced, whose acts and words serve the purpose of illustrating the author's meaning. "Jeremiah," "Malachi," and "Parnapa," are all thus far creations of the imagination; yet, at the same time, every incident, every characteristic, every expression of Maori opinion, is closely and faithfully given, either as it actually occurred, or fell from the lips of the Maori. Hence it is the truthfulness of these sketches that constitutes their chief merit.

What dweller in these lands, that has for years

mingled amidst native scenes, and seen the Maori as he is, but will bear testimony to the fidelity of the picture here drawn? If the artist has succeeded in his task, if he has "held the mirror up to nature," if he has placed on the canvass a real creation, instead of an ideal outline, then one of his chief objects has been attained.

The articles he has devoted to the questions of education and religious instruction, as well as his allusions to the general means adopted for the civilisation of this race, may serve to throw some light on a few dark places, dispel some erroneous opinions, and expose the shams and abuses of a bad system. Perhaps never before has any writer, except in the columns of colonial journals, attempted to do this; and it is the highly flattering reception which those sketches have already met with, when published in that form, that has induced him to put them forth in this little volume. Originally expressly written for the Wellington Independent, they have been copied into nearly every leading journal of the colony, and their reception has been most gratifying in those settlements which are almost in the heart of native territory. It is to be hoped that the favorable augury of future success thus afforded, may not be falsified in the present undertaking.

PUBLISHERS' NOTE.

PUBLISHERS' NOTE.

CONSIDERING the wide field and the wealth of materials, it is not a little surprising that so few capable writers have given their attention and talents to the pourtrayal of the Maori, as he appears to Pakeha eyes. True, the late Judge Manning has left us that ever enjoyable series of sketches, "Old New Zealand," by a Pakeha-Maori; a book that is far too little read by the present colonists, most of whom know little or nothing of the Maori of the early days of European settlement, when the dusky population was only beginning to assimilate Pakeha ways and tastes, and still retained much of his pristine simplicity and characteristics.

In the following pages the author, who wrote a quarter of a century ago, has succeeded in giving a number of most entertaining sketches of the Maori as he then existed. The intervening period has seen a great change in the Maori character, the present generation having to a wonderful extent caught the habits and customs of his Pakeha neighbors, whom he copies with untiring

and successful efforts. Many of the younger men have been taught English, and studied it so closely that they possess a fair knowledge of, not only the language, but the history of the nation whose people have come to the colony to build up a Greater Britain. As time passes the older Maoris will disappear, and with them many customs and ceremonies which are still in vogue. It is therefore desirable that sketches like the following should not be lost sight of, and that all that relates to so intelligent a race in their first contact with Europeans should be carefully preserved. This has led the publishers of these sketches to reproduce "Mahoe Leaves," the original edition of which contained many errors which in the present edition have been corrected.

[CONTENTS]

CONTENTS.

MISSIONARY INFLUENCE............1

OUR PAH..................19

RUNANGAS ........................38

PARNAPA........................54

WHAKAWAS..................67

HUIS........................78

HOATU NOATU........................91

MAKUTU........................100

WHAKAAKONA...................111

VALEDICTORY...................123

MISSIONARY INFLUENCE.

MAHOE LEAVES.

MISSIONARY INFLUENCE.

MISSIONARY INFLUENCE! What an expression this has now become! I am haunted by it. In every newspaper it stares me in the face, – at every fireside it is hurled at one as the source of all colonial woes – and in every hotel and cafe it is a staple topic on which to heap maledictions and execrations! There must be some meaning in it, though to me it has ever been involved move or less in mystery. I get into conversation with my friend, the honorable member for Coalingsby (and an uncommonly good member he is), upon the all absorbing topic of the war; and he, in that crushing style of oratory that renders him so terribly feared as a political opponent, observes, "I tell you, sir, that that ban, that curse, that has hovered over us from the infancy of the colony, that has complicated every Land Purchase from these Natives, that has per-

plexed every Minister of the Crown, that has rendered negotiations with these savages all but impossible, that now haunts the lobbies of our Government Offices, and the corridors of Government House, is 'Missionary Influence.'"

My honorable friend has by this time lashed himself into such a virtuous fury, that I forbear asking him the meaning of the term, as indeed all the reply I am likely to get is a pitiful shrug of the shoulders at my contemptible ignorance. I take leave of my honorable friend, and enter the counting-house of my excellent agent, Mr. Tret. After running over debtor and creditor accounts for the last twelve months, we become friendly, and fall into consideration of the affairs of the country generally. I complain of the bad times, of the doubt and uncertainty that hangs over the colony, of the mismanagement of the war, the helplessness of commanders, the chapter of blunders that has marked the whole of the war policy of the Government, and ask him for an explanation. Why is it that Generals make "saps" that cannot possibly entrap a foe, that have always a back door open? Why is it that the "Ngati what d'ye call 'ems" are now fattening on the spoils of the ruined settlers, and are allowed to buy and sell, and utter their braggadocia to whom they please? And with a score more questions of an equally per-

plexing and gloomy character, I put the brains of my friend in steep, and pause for his reply. No sooner do I draw breath than my excellent friend's visage assumes a fearful aspect. He turns violently purple, his eyes roll in his head, and he fetches his desk such a thump with his fist as to set inkstands, pens, rulers, and such small gear, jumping and rolling over one another like a lot of harlequins, and vociferates, "Why, sir? Do you ask me why? Shall I tell you?" Rather alarmed at his insane aspect, I only modestly reply, "If you please?" It is then, that darting a glance of ferocity utterly indescribable on paper, but most uncomfortable to the sensations, he bangs the desk, if possible, more heavily than before, and fairly shouts, "Missionary Influence!"

I put it candidly to anybody, whether they could expect anything like a satisfactory explanation from a man in this state of mind. I therefore, of course, decline requesting it; besides, it not unfrequently occurs, that the rise of markets, so far as one is privately concerned, depend upon the graces, good or bad, that one is on with an agent, and we might differ. I have a "run" up in the back country, and I now purpose visiting it for a change. I shall go the inland route, and, as I like taking books to read on my travels, I shall take Angas's "Scenes of Savage Life," and endeavour to find out what the normal

state of these savages was, so far as European knowledge extends. I know very little of the interior of this country or the inhabitants thereof, I have invariably made my travelling by sea, and the smattering of Maori I have picked up, has been about the towns. I meet many of my own countrymen on my road, in general men who have risen to moderate affluence from the lower ranks, and, of course, I fall into conversation with them. It is a surprising thing, but so it is, that every one anathematises the Missionaries, and equally surprising, that the reasons they assign invariably break down. One man tells me "that all parsons are alike, all bad together," and diverges into the subject of tithes in the old country. Another says they fill the heads of the Natives full of mischief, that they are always up to some games, and "he knows it." Space would fail me to mention all the other reasons that are assigned for the consignment of the Missionaries to a place that shall be nameless, but whence they are never likely to go of their own accord.

This horrid "Missionary Influence" becomes a perfect bugbear to me. I pursue my way through woods and wilds barren of interest to me. Landscapes in all the primeval tints of nature, rude, rugged, and undefined, relieved occasionally by an isolated station, shepherd's hut, or native settlement; at one time my

track lies along cliffs, beneath me the waves of the South Pacific dash themselves recklessly in pieces against the seaworn rocks, as if disgusted with their dreary journey from the South Pole or some other region; while a number of sentimental looking mutton-birds gaze at the shattered billow with a most anxious visage, curious, no doubt, to discover whether any confiding oyster or cockle, trusting to the faithless wave, has met with the fate of his bark and had his shell broken about his ears for his ill-timed confidence. I descend into the flat country and pursue my way, with swamps and fern on all sides of me; my companions, sand-flies and my evil thoughts. Occupied too much with them, I suddenly find I have lost my way, and those who may have been in a similar predicament are left to judge my feelings. I wander away through country the roughest of the rough, and am only too glad to espy in the distance smoke curling through the trees. What doubts I might have had respecting its being a human habitation are speedily cleared up, for I hear that diabolical whooping and yelling which has been dignified by some Maori enthusiasts into the term, "song," and which, Mr. Heaphy, I think, made the remarkable discovery was very musical. I make my way thither, and along with a pack of the most miserable mongrel curs that come snarling and

creeping about my horse's heels, comes an old man, who in years as well as limbs seems to be dwindled to the shortest span, and salutes me with uplifted eyebrows.

It is a picturesque spot by the edge of a river, flanked by a noble pine bush, the most noble of all the New Zealand forests. There are just enough huts to make a pleasant feature in the landscape, and a few peach trees laden with blossom that are dotted about the small palisaded court-yard, give a freshness of foliage, contrasting with the sombre hue of the surrounding trees: the graceful ko-whai (Edwardsia Microphylla) droops over the banks of a small creek that forms one of the boundaries of a little plot, intermingled with the Koro-miko (Veronica) in full flower, and the fresh-leaved Mahoe (Melicytus ramiflorus). The low-eaved huts with their deep gables smeared with kokowai (red ochre), and curiously tattooed with hieroglyphics that may tell the root of many a genealogical tree; taken collectively, with the extreme wildness of the adjacent country, in sympathy wherewith the denizens of this little oasis personally appear, tend to impress me more with the picture of Maori life in its normal state than I can well describe.

"What do you call this place?" I asked the old man, whose name I discovered to be Jeremiah,

"Upokototo" (bloody head). "And that spot yonder?" "Kaihoro Karu" (to eat heads greedily). Pleasant names, very!

In the mean time I tether out my horse, and as my friend, Jeremiah, sets to work to rub out a few cobs of Indian corn for a feed for him, I accept the pilotage of a dirty little child, who conducts me in safety through the pack of mangy curs, and I proceed to make the acquaintance of my hosts. I discover a counterpart of Jeremiah, who indeed proves to be his brother Ezekiel, sitting under a verandah, in a great state of deshabille and perspiration, engaged in manufacturing a fish-hook out of an old horse-shoe. Judging from the state of his file, I should say he had been thus engaged for some years, and is just as likely to be engaged for as many more. This is the man, I am led to understand, in whose honor the latter locality derived its name. How many human heads he devoured on the occasion referred to, I do not know. It appears, however, that he suffered from some stomachic disarrangement for some months afterwards. I am regaled with some potatoes and a bit of fish, admirably cooked in a native oven, which, I find, is made by burning a quantity of fire in a hole, at the bottom of which are a few large stones, and the fire being then removed, the fish is wrapped up in several layers of leaves, is

deposited in the hole, and covered up with the hot ashes; a layer of earth being put over the surface. I make my meal, taken altogether, with considerable gusto; and though no epicure, I may cursorily remark, that if anybody wishes to eat fish cooked to perfection, let them pay a visit to the village of Upokototo, and make the acquaintance of my old friend, Jeremiah. The great objection to native hospitality is that they are not scrupulously clean in either their persons or apartments; and in addition to affording comfortable lodgings for a colony of fleas of the most sanguinivorous propensities, by a habit they have of burning fires on the floor of their houses, it is impossible to avoid any position but a recumbent or squatting one.

I consequently request a mat to lay my blanket on, and wrapping myself up Jeremiah further supplies me with a pawa-shell full of fat, in which a piece of old rag is floating, and by the light of this apology for a lamp, I at once plunge into Mr. Angas, and his "Scenes of Savage Life." The specimens of humanity I have about me agree in outward appearance almost entirely with his descriptions, for there is very little European about them. As I glance from the page to the grotesque figures squatting about the fire, I draw inferences very far from complimentary to my hosts. "Am I here peacefully lying," I

mentally exclaim, "among a group of individuals, who, within the last quarter of a century, or little more, thought of little save war and cannibalism, and have I here the identical individual who feasted upon the heads of goodness knows how many victims, in the shape of my indefatigable friend of the horseshoe? Should I not rather fancy that his inventive faculties were at present concentrated on the manufacture of a spear-head, or some other rude weapon, than a peaceful fish-hook?" And, in fact, posing myself with a score of similar queries, I eventually arrive at the serious question as to why am I here alive at all? Why was I not despatched an hour ago by Jeremiah, and a portion of that part of my anatomy, that is the offspring of these reflections, now undergoing the process of digestion within the internals of the gluttonous Ezekiel? What has caused this serious change in their sentiments? Has it been the society of whaling-stations and escaped convicts? Perhaps, "Missionary Influence!"

Lost in this field of reflection, I knock the ashes out of my pipe, and prepare for rest. Just as I am dosing off, I catch the remark, that awakens me with a sudden start, "Is the pakeha (white man) asleep?" exclaims the voice of a young woman close to my ear. I feign sleep so successfully that the pawa-shell is passed across my face, and the light thrown down

on me without my showing signs of being awake. I shall not say here what ideas passed through my mind, the isolation of the spot, the probability of my being murdered for the sake of what I had about me, the improbability of, in that case, my fate being ever known; and I confess to a shudder as I ran these ideas through my mind. In such circumstances I feel resistance would be useless, and I therefore lie still, and watch the proceedings from the corners of my eyes. The hut rapidly fills with the remainder of the inhabitants of this little village, and they quietly take their seats round the lamp: and now to keep the reader no longer in suspense. – What were they about to do? To plot or scheme for my demolition, or what? The fact was, they were simply about to go through a form they have been in the habit of doing, I consequently find, almost morning and night, for the last twenty years – prayers. It is nothing to me that their rubric is deficient, that they adopt a squatting posture of devotion not essentially orthodox. I do not pause to inquire why they happen to be reading the Athanasian creed for the evening service, nor do I stop to speculate on the probable ideas that my old friends, Ezekiel and Jeremiah, may have respecting the damnatory clauses in it. It is sufficient for me to find Christianity in any shape existing in this out of the way spot, and

among such apparently unpromising disciples. I close my eyes to ponder on the change from what I have been reading, and in spite of all my arguments, pro and con, as to the sincerity of the religious profession of these semi-barbarians, and the probability of its permanancy; its probable causes of force of habit, superstition and what not, I invariably come back to the heading of this article, "Missionary Influence," and aiming at no satisfactory conclusions on the point, I ultimately drop off to sleep, with the figure of old Ezekiel rasping away at the old horseshoe. Whether his energies and faculties were thus employed the whole night I cannot say, but as I awoke at the break of day, I still found him at the old post, and to all appearance his work just as far on to a satisfactory completion as it had been the night before. Had this been a Pagan age, I should have been disposed to imagine that for some sin against the gods (his gluttony, for instance, at Kaihoro Karu), he had been doomed to his task for an indefinite period of years, as one of the brotherhood of Sisyphus, Tantalus and Co. I take leave of him and the rest of his family, and Jeremiah having put me in my track, I reward him for his hospitality with a few figs of tobacco, and pursue my way northward.

As I at last get upon the open track, I perceive a

group of individuals some distance ahead of me, and, as they appear to be travelling the same way as myself, I make Hobson's choice of their companionship or none, and putting spurs to my horse I make up to them. Half a dozen stalwart Natives, each with a pack on his back, accompany a grey-haired middle-aged gentleman of clerical appearance, who greets me with cordial frankness. Though past the prime of life, and perfectly grey, his swarthy complexion and firm steady gait, shew him to be a man of iron constitution, and one who has passed a life of great activity. The stride he walks with, and the firm elastic step, shew a man whose pedestrian powers are not put to the test for the first time to-day, while his rapid enunciation of Maori, and the quick change of expression he exhibits when replying to their queries, point him out as one who is thoroughly acquainted with their manners and language. He, in fact, is a Missionary, one of nearly forty years standing, who has sons in the same calling, and who has entered the Missionary field as one of the colleagues of the veteran Marsden. If there is such a thing as "Missionary Influence," I imagine him to be a man who possess it – and if I require information respecting these Natives, who more qualified, from experience, to give it? To this topic I therefore gradually draw the subject, having

previously discovered that he is returning from a month's tour of his circuit, every settlement in which he has visited; that the average distance he has travelled has been at the rate of thirty miles per day, and that frequently he has held as many as three services per day. I therefore broach the subject thus: –

"I fear, Mr. – – – , that this king movement is unsettling the Natives very much?"

"I fear so."

"Have you any influence with them?"

"We had, but it is fast dying out."

"How do you account for this?"

"The influx of Europeans has caused it." (The old stereotyped reply.)

"True!" I reply, "but seeing that you have set your faces directly against immigration – endeavoured to thwart the Government and the New Zealand Company in the alienation of lands, you have made yourselves enemies of those whom it was your duty to have considered as a portion of your flock; many of you have not scrupled to lay claim to blocks of land of large extent for no particular indemnification; have interfered in political matters; have anathematised the settlers of these Islands as the source of much mischief in the minds of the New Zealanders; and in general, have rendered yourselves unpopular.

You are supposed now to exercise an influence over these Natives, tending to thwart a speedy settlement of the unfortunate disputes at present existing betwixt them and the Government, and by espousing their cause so warmly, you have led them to believe more in injustice done towards themselves, than it is possible they themselves would have ever conceived, and by your sympathy made negotiations almost impracticable. In a word, the course you have thought fit to adopt, has been most inimical to the interests of both, whan in reality the success of either depends on their unity."

"My reply," said he, "to this, is this. What we may have done for the benefit of the aborigines of these Islands, or what may have been left undone, is a matter we are answerable for to a higher tribunal than a human one. The work you hold in your hand, and which you were last night perusing, gives you by no means an overdrawn picture of the life and manners of the Maories, when I first trod these shores. Take that picture of the past, and contrast it with the present! We opposed the introduction of Europeans for various reasons, and on various grounds. Our work was but begun, and considering the examples that the whaling-stations exhibited of European life, and their prejudicial effects on the native mind, we dreaded the introduction of more.

The society of Australia and Van Diemen's Land in those days was far from the most choice, even in the cities. Emigration of a free character, was little thought of in England, except to the Americas; and, from the length of the passage from England, the atrocious character of the Natives, and the very little stimulus given to emigration, we were not disposed to imagine that a community the most choice in point of character would be landed on these shores. Hence, at this juncture, we opposed immigration, wo opposed the alienation of lands through the fear that the Natives who had little idea of their value would soon become impoverished, and seeing that large blocks were in reality bartered away for a few Jews' harps. It is not improbable that such would soon have been the case, and had the titles been thoroughly extinguished (which they were not), many thousands of acres would have been bartered away for a mere song. We, perhaps, held delusive notions of the rise of the Maories to be a nation of importance, and, in some instances, may have encouraged them in the idea, though not under a crown of their own; but when you consider that our whole lives were devoted to their amelioration, and all our energies concentrated on that end, you can scarcely wonder that, in our zeal for them, we occasionally made their interests to clash with yours. In the dealings

with the British in early days, you cannot deny that, in many cases, the Natives were disgracefully cheated, and it was an ordinary point in the Colonial creed, that it was perfectly fair to do so. Can you, therefore, feel surprised that we, sworn to be their spiritual pastors and advisers in all temporal matters, should shut our eyes to the villany constantly practised upon them, and warned them against it? How much of the unpopularity of the Missionaries in early days may not in reality be traced to this? Again, if we occasionally inveighed against the Europeans, and laid much mischief at their door; were we not a by-word amongst them, and our names cast up with reproach in the faces of the Natives themselves. With regard to the claim for land made by one of our number, it is an isolated case, and even if we, who were the pioneers of civilisation amongst these savages, and to whom, say as you will, Europeans are indebted as a community, had asked for a few acres of land, on which to lay up on our old age, or settle our families on; should we have asked such a hard thing? You grant it to officers and privates in the military and naval services, and do you not honestly think our claims for compensation will bear comparison with theirs? Apostolic poverty cannot be quoted as a rule, unless all come to the level of the Primitive Christians in point of worldly means.

So far as regards our interference in political matters, between the Government and the Natives, the question is, were not our opinions asked? And have we not honestly stated our opinions and convictions as we believe them?

'Missionary Influence,' my dear sir, is all but a myth. It exists where their opinions coincide with the Natives, but little further, and when you find rebellion openly encouraged by Europeans sueing for debts in the King's Courts! – murders committed on the Queen's highway, winked at by the Government; while the storm is brewing, arms put into the hands of the Natives, and by promises unbroken, threats never carried out, and force of arms all but impotent, a universal feeling of distrust and contempt planted in the breasts of the Natives towards the Government: – I say, put these facts on one side, and 'Missionary Influence' on the other, and honestly weigh the two, one against the other. And, lastly, remember the class of men from whom many of the Missionaries have been selected; who, by talents, education, original social position, and comparative isolation for so many years, far out of the regions of society and social advancement, are often placed in positions and called upon for advice that they are utterly unqualified to give; who entered the ministry when 'the harvest truly was plenteous but the

laborers were few;' and extend that indulgence, that charity towards their failings, that you expect yourselves from your fellow creatures. Man is but mortal – an erring being, and it by no means follows that Missionaries are exempt from the failings of mankind. Ever remember the injunction of your divine master to the Jewish crowd, as it swayed in anger round the harlot, 'Let him that is without sin amongst you, first cast a stone at her.'"

* * * *

I need scarcely add, that I finished my journey duly, and since then, have lost a good deal of faith in the term, "Missionary Influence."

OUR PAH.

OUR PAH.

TWO very natural questions may arise from the heading of this article, the first being, what is a pah'? And the second, why do I style it pah? As regards the signification of the term pah, I might confine myself to recommending the reader to look in the dictionary of the "Maori language," by Archdeacon Williams, where he will find half a dozen meanings for the word. A pah is strictly a fortified village, but it has ceased to be applied to a fortified one only, and a collection of huts forming a native settlement, is generally termed a pah nowadays, and the pah I refer to as "Our Pah" has no signs of fortifications about it. I term it "Our Pah," not because I am part owner of it, nor do I, I am happy to say, reside there, but as its inhabitants form our next door neighbours, I term it "Our Pah," upon the same principle that Miss Mitford spoke of "Our Village," though she lived outside of it.

Our pah is a very picturesque place, at a distance, standing as it does on the banks of a winding river,

that meanders through a long range of broken country, in about the roughest spot of which our pah is situated. Had Europeans selected a spot for a settlement, perhaps, one of the first points they would have looked at, would have been a locality where means of transit either by land or water would have been tolerably easy. The inhabitants of our pah appear to have gone on the diametrically opposite principle, by selecting a spot the most inconvenient, in that point of view, they could well have found. The river is barely navigable for their canoes, notwithstanding the small draught of water they draw, and by any vehicle it is next to impossible to get at it. The situation is damp, and as I look down upon it in the shades of evening, it gradually fades from my vision in a fog. Yet it is a pretty place, at a distance. I know no pleasanter change for the eye, than after roaming over a country brown with scrub and bush, when it lights upon the little green patches that form their cultivations, an oasis amidst the wilds.

On a bright sunny day our pah appears to great advantage; and as in stormy weather it lies nestling under the cover of the cliffs behind it, it is a comfort to look at a spot sheltered from the driving gales and squalls for which the country is so remarkable.

Our pah does not improve, however, on closer acquaintance. This, however, is a private opinion, and if the reader has no objection, we will pay a visit to it, and form the acquaintance of one or two of the inhabitants thereof. We have had a peep at it from a distance, from the top of the hill in fact, and now we will go down.

If you should not happen to have nails in your boots, the descent is not very easy; in winter there is a tendency to mud and slippery clay, and the gradient in places being about one in four, it is not rendered the more easy.

We have descended the hill, and, thanks to high-topped boots, crossed a swamp safely and dry. A crew of pigs of very undefinable breed, but of an agricultural turn of mind, pause in the midst of their digging for roots to take a look at us, and having satisfied themselves that we do not belong to the quadruped order, bolt in all directions. As a general rule, pigs and horses are the only kind of stock the Maories care about, and the fact of their being unmistakeably individuals of each respective genus, is, it would appear, perfectly satisfactory to the owners. They care very little about improving the breeds, and are by no means connoisseurs.

Arrived at the bank of the river, we shall hail a Charon; observe the sensation our appearance

causes; but do not imagine that for the last half-hour they have been in ignorance of our advent. Had I been alone, it is not probable that above one or two would have troubled themselves to look outside the door; but you have been espied as a stranger, and their inquisitive nature has been aroused to to the utmost. Your features and dress will go through a course of scrutiny that would do credit to a first-class detective, and if you want to be saved the trouble of hopelessly attempting to answer half a dozen questions at once, I should recommend you, if you can speak the language, to keep your knowledge to yourself.

I may further remark, that it is very often extremely convenient to appear to be ignorant of the language in travelling, as they are thrown off their guard, and you may successfully foil a great many little tricks they are in the habit of playing on travellers, which they will unfold to one another, under the delusion that you aro perfectly ignorant of what they are talking about. But this is by the way.

Here comes Teopera to put us across; look at that wretched pack of mongrel curs at his heels. No pah is complete without a pack of dogs; not one of which is worth anything, and are rarely used for anything but pig-hunting; a proceeding extremely

unfair so far as the pig is concerned; he fights the whole crew, not one of which dare tackle him, and while thus employed, is, if he be of a tame kind, pinned by the hind leg by his crafty owner, or if he be wild, treacherously tomahawked from the rear.

Teopera in the meantime, you see, has launched the canoe; look at the expert manner he handles that long pole as he stands in the nose of it! Owing to the freshet he can barely touch the bottom in some places, and so strong is the current, he will have to pole up the other side for a few chains, and then shooting out into the middle of the stream, he will drift across close to where we stand. So while he is working his way across, I will tell you an anecdote respecting him.

When I first came here, I used to have great difficulty in discovering the English names of those Natives that had espoused them, by reason of their pronunciation. But I managed to make out most of them except this fellow's. Teopera! Teopera! I thought, what English scriptural name corresponds with such a word? An Englishman who resided near here, and who had been many years in the colony, I thought I would ask to explain the matter. So one day, in the course of conversation, I asked him what the meaning of Teopera was. "Teopera!" said he. "Don't you know? – why it is Jupiter!"

"upiter," said I, "why what Missionary would christen a man Jupiter?" "Ah! well," said he, "you may rely upon it, it is Jupiter!" I could not for the life of me reconcile the matter, but I called him "Jupiter," for all that, at which he did not seem at all astonished. But when I got a little more used to the language, I thought I would ask him if his name was in the Testament. "Oh, yes," said he. "Well," said I, handing him a Testament, "find it for me." In a few minutes he found it, and handing me the book, pointed out the passage in the Acts of the Apostles, "The former treatise have I made 0 Theophilus" (O Teopera). But my neighbour calls him "Jupiter," I believe, to this day.

So now he has arrived, we will step into his canoe and go across.

This canoe, you see, is hewn out of a solid tree, it is almost thirty feet long, not more than thirty inches wide, and scarcely that depth; but were you to stand upon the edge, you could not capsize it. And the fact is, plain as they look, in expert hands, they not only carry large cargoes for their size, but will stand in far rougher water than you would imagine. In one of these canoes (only much larger) I was once fishing on the coast, when a squall caught us, and a very nasty sea began to get up before we reached land – we landed through the breakers with-

out taking a drop of water aboard, while a whaleboat that was out with us, though very fairly manned and steered, had a very narrow chance of being capsized, and the crew, as it was, were very much drenched. The art, I believe, is always to catch the seas on the quarter, and on no account to lay the head on. This, however, is a digression.

Now that we have landed, that we may not meet with the fate of Actaeon, we will arm ourselves with a stick a piece, and examine the pah.

What with barking of dogs, chattering of women, yelling of men, and crying of children, our first five minutes are passed in confusion. But as I have explained to them that we have merely come to see the place and the good folks in it, and not for purposes of trade, you observe curiosity is abated, and we have a little more leisure to look about. The huts, you observe, are built and situated without any particular regard either to symmetry or order, their ends and sides are placed promiscuously to the eye; some in a straight line of sight, and some oblique – the small courtyards attached to many of them, are put up with very slight ideas of geometry, some rectangular, some rhomboidal, and others quadrilateral, and that is all. A few peach trees, or Indian corn stalks, are all that appear growing about theme,

except docks and sow thistle, the latter systematically cropped to the roots by trespassing pigs. A melancholy fowl or two, kept in a perpetual state of activity to avoid the attacks of children and dogs, poke about these yards, but except these specimens of animated life, little appears outside.

When the company is confined to a limited space, Maories are not, generally speaking, the most agreeable society, having a tendency to that habit of person for which Edie Ochiltree was so remarkable; however, as we have come to see the pah, we will waive our objections of a personal nature, and call upon old Ropiha. His house is this on the right, and is rather a favorable specimen of a Maori dwelling.

We have to bend double to get through the little door, and as the walls are only four feet high, when we get inside, standing up is quite out of the question, more especially as he persists, like all his countrymen, in burning his fire on the floor.

Ropiha is a great character in his way, and deeply learned in the art of tatooing both the human face, and all sorts of wooden arms, utensils, ornaments, and implements that are usually subject to the process.

The former barbarous custom, I am happy to say, is fast falling into decay. It was not only a flight-

fully painful, but a most laborious operation, lasting many days, and subjecting the unfortunate individuals to a farther pain for some weeks after the process, by reason of the parts festering. However, I must refer you for further information to Messrs. Angas or Rutherford, for I never saw any Maori undergoing the operation.

Ropiha, you see, is at present engaged in carving the handle of a scoop, for bailing out water from a canoe, termed a "tiheru." Look at his tools! three superannuated screw drivers filed and rasped down to guage, and an old brad-awl! Yet with these unpromising looking tools he will write in hieroglyphics the whole genealogical tree of his particular "hapu," or branch of the tribe that he belongs to. How long it may take him is another matter. Time, however, with these old men is no object, and he, after all, is, perhaps, as well employed this way as any other.

You are right; there are fleas about, so let us get outside and be thankful that we have made acquaintance with no other species of vermin.

This miserable looking old creature who has just arrived with some very offensive looking and smelling mess in a basket, is no other than Ropiha's wife. A word respecting her first.

Look at her features, smoke-dried and shrivelled; her back half bent double; her wretched hands and

feet attenuated and shrunk till they look more like the claws of some horrid bird than a human being; hear her speak, and the quivering hissing notes she produces as she whines out, "Tenakoe Ekoro!" Put that old woman, as she now appears in that dirty dimity wrapper, and her head bound up with that musty, threadbare, black handkerchief, in the British Museum at night; and tell me, candidly, if the porter who unlocks the doors of the galleries in the early morning, would not start back at the singular apparition, and search for an empty glass case from whence some Egyptian Mummy had effected its escape! – Mummies! Some Mummies that I have seen are Venuses compared with her! How old is she? you ask. Ah I that is a question. Ignorant of any data or incident beyond thirty years ago, it is very difficult to arrive at any idea on the point; I, however, myself, believe that at sixty years of age they are decrepit; the style of living, and the hard labor the women undergo, tend to age them fast, and I myself have known young girls of not more than sixteen years of age, who have married, had one or two children, and whom I have met four years after looking women of forty.

Here are a number of young girls you see coming this way; Marys, Carolines, and Sophys. I assure you that we have some most aristocratic names

amongst them. You see a very fair sample of the aboriginal girls before you. One or two very pretty, with good teeth, eyes, hands, feet, and symmetrical figures, their worst points being their hair and lips, which are generally coarse. I believe them to be capable of forming strong attachments; but they are by no means a lovable order of damsels, and as a general rule are not disposed to value their virtue at so great a price as the philanthropist would wish. I have no idea how they are wooed and won, or whether in matrimonial matters they are allowed much choice.

By the way, as girls do put everything else out of one's head, I will now answer your query respecting that villainous looking stuff Mrs. Ropiha has in her kit.

That mess, which is nothing but putrified Indian corn, and as you somewhat strongly observe, "does stink most horribly," is called by the Natives "ko paki-paki." I cannot say that it is dirty, for the process of bringing it to that condition, is simply soaking in water until it goes rotten. In that state it is boiled in water, and made into "stirabout," and I have been told has a strong taste of old Stilton cheese. Stilton cheese, however, taken in the form of soup, might not be so palatable as in its solid form; and judging from the particularly

unpleasant effluvia emitted from the pot as it undergoes the process of cooking, and the (if possible) still more offensive scent that hangs about those who have partaken of it, I do not argue very strongly in favor of its delicious properties. I may mention, by the way, that this method of putrifying food in water is applied to other articles besides maize. Small potatoes, termed "kotero," and the berries of the karaka tree (corynocarpus laevigata), are both subject to the process, and in a state of decomposition, considered great delicacies. I never had the curiosity to taste either.

To get out of the tainted atmosphere, occasioned by the old lady's cookery, we will look at another sort of house called a whare-puni. This house you see has no walls at all, but is little more than a long trench with a roof thrown over it. These wretched dwellings are the hot-beds of one-half the evils, cutaneous and asthmatical, that more particularly affect the Maories. In these horrid places they sleep, huddled up together, with a roaring fire, and sweltering in their own steam, they will, when they awake, half suffocated, rush out naked, or nearly so, and squat outside on the damp ground; and consequently, though they do not meet with the fate of the immortal Mrs. Gamp's progeny, who had "damp door steps settled on their lungs," they lay the seeds

of all those evils, that end in consumption or confirmed asthma.

After this description, we need not go inside. This long building alongside, as the inscription which Mr. Barnabas (Parnapa) is chiselling on the door informs us, serves the double purpose of chapel and court house.

Parnapa is a great character here, and I shall subsequently tell you more of him; he is acting church minister, clerk to the bench, and general scribe and letter-writer. If you look in at the door, you will see the centre cut out of an old canoe reared on end for a pulpit, and a bit of board nailed across the top for holding the books, making it look like the segment of an ale hogshead; there are no pews, as the congregation never do anything but squat, unless a minister be present who insists on orthodox devotions. Here you see is Parnapa's iron pot slung by one leg to serve as a bell, and hard by is a lump of wood, with which Parnapa hammers it night and morning to call the Natives to matins or vespers. The children have found it out, so he says, and have insisted in ringing the bell at ungodly seasons, and thereby causing much confusion in the clerical and magisterial arrangements. So you see he is putting a door on the house to keep the small-fry out. "Too much o te tamaiti," says he, with ineffable disgust, as he tells me about it.

The phrase, "too much," by the way, is one of those English expressions picked up by the Natives, the meaning of which they do not know, but which they introduce most comically occasionally; it invariably signifies disgust. And apropos of the expression – I was travelling once with Parnapa on foot, late at night, when we were overtaken by a thick fog, so that we could not see a yard before us. After wandering about half the night, we by some great luck came upon a stock-yard belonging to an outsettler, and in the milking-shed, we put up for the night. We found a few bundles of straw, and I made up a sort of litter on which to recline till break of day. Parnapa had a blanket, but I had not, and objecting to lying too near him, I (luckily as it happened) left a good space between us. He was soon snoring; but he kept waking up during the night, to complain that rain was coming in in heavy drops on him; I never felt any, and rather chuckled at my having kept so far from him. "Eho," he would exclaim, "too much o tenei whare!" (Too much of this house!) "Aue, aue, kei taku upoko." (Oh dear, dear, it is coming down on my head.) Daylight at last broke, and I peeped out of the straw at Parnapa. I shall never forget it; he was sound asleep, and I soon found out what the rain was he had been complaining of, for casting my

eyes upwards, I beheld about thirty turkeys, beneath whose perches he had pitched his bed! What he looked like, and what he said when I awoke him, perhaps the least said the better! But none of those turkeys overslept themselves that morning, the nimbleness with which they came off those perches was surprising! Ah I see how quick he is at finding out what we are talking about! Listen to him! "Ai koia too much o te turkey, nei?" (It was too bad of the turkeys! was it not?) "He moenga kino" (A bad bed!).

Let us, however, leave our factotum friend to the duties of his sacred office, and pay a visit to the adjacent cultivation, where I espy a crew hard at work among their potatoes.

The individual that you see in the red shirt, and destitute of his nether garments, under the aboriginal impression that an airiness of the lower extremities is conducive to industry, is no other than the chief of this tribe, and his name is Malachi. These hobbledehoys of lads, who are supposed to be assisting him in his field operations, are his sons, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, but who in native parlance are termed Matiu, Maka, Eruka, and Hone, and from what I know of them, the Evangelists are by no means complimented by the assumption of their names by those young scamps.

As is usually the case with native parents, their children are not under the least control, and at a very early age they usurp the functions of their fathers, who do most part of the drudgery in the field, and are rewarded for their industry by the fruits thereof being devoured by their offspring.

However far, though, Malachi may fail in ruling his own household, he is no mean authority among his tribe, of which he is the local magistrate, and leading character; and as in all cases of dispute there exists no appeal against his decisions, he might use his power more arbitrarily than he does. His old father is still in the land of the living, and you may see him yonder scraping up little mounds of earth with his skinny fingers, and planting pumpkin seeds in them. I believe if every man had his due, this old boy ought to be king of the lot, instead of that, he seems to be doomed to more drudgery than any of them. If an obstinate pig has to be driven , for a few miles, old Lazarus is the man called upon to do it; which task he usually undertakes with the greatest possible philosophy, should the distance be long, encamping with his charge behind a flax bush, and making time no object whatever. He no doubt has been a notorious old cannibal in his day, and probably used his own father worse than his children use him, otherwise one might express sympathy for him

in his grey hairs, as outwardly he reminds one strongly of our youthful imaginations of Pius AEneas. As it is, a standing butt for the children to play pranks on, and a drudge for the older people, he presents on the whole a rather deplorable aspect.

Where we to go over and enter into conversation with Malachi and the youthful Evangelists, there would be no more work to-day, as they work by fits and starts, going at it "like a bull at a gate" for half-an-hour, stopping to smoke their pipes for the next, working another ten minutes, then getting something to eat, and so on. One starts up a song, and all the spades dive into the soil together, now at a great rate, and again scarcely moving: somehow or other, however, they manage to get through it; but as few cultivate more than half an acre, and that by no means very thoroughly, in the course of the year they manage to scuffle some sort of a crop into the ground, and trust to scraping about it with a hoe and keeping the weeds down. I have seen old men sitting on the ground and digging over their gardens, so how far they turn it over you may judge.

In employing them as laborers, Europeans generally calculate on getting a good day's work done the first day, a moderate one the second, and an inferior one the third. It is therefore not generally politic to keep them at the same style of work for more than

two or three days; but by judiciously changing, many of them prove to be very fair workmen, especially when the axe is used.

I might enter into a long account of Malachi, in his capacity of Magistrate, and furnish you with a ludicrous description of the manner of holding courts, with Parnapa as chief clerk, but I shall leave it for another time; and we may just as well take our leave of the pah, and again call the services of Jupiter to our aid.

Here is his house, and for curiosity's sake we will take a look inside. We might catalogue the contents hung about the hut as Prince Henry and Poins did Falstaffs pockets. Here, an old pair of trowsers patched and mended till the original material is a matter of doubt and uncertainty to discover. There, a canoe paddle, an old shattered flint and steel musket (date, I imagine anterior to the Peninsular war, nothing should induce me to fire out of it), a tin pannikin, a testament, and an iron pot, appear to be the personal chattels and effects of Teopera. If, in the course of his magisterial duty, it should fall to the lot of Malachi to issue a distress warrant, the effects of our friend Jupiter, I fear, would not cover court expenses. Here he is, however, ready with his long pole to ferry us over, and we may say good-bye to our pah.

In the good time that is coming, a sanitary commission may, perchance, find its way down here, or that individual Maori, as yet unborn (if we do not pin our faith on Dr. Cumming), who is to contemplate London in a state of decay from one of the bridges (according to the lamented Lord Macaulay), may probably be there for the purpose of taking a lesson from the shade of Mr. Thwaite, who is sure to haunt the mouths of metropolitan sewers. Anyhow, let us hope that the interior arrangements of pahs may improve in succeeding generations, and at present rest contented with viewing them at a distance.

RUNANGAS.

RUNANGAS.

IN the days of old, ere this delightful Island of New Zealand was visited by war, and the aboriginal inhabitants seized with the desire to have a king to reign over them, this term "runanga" was little known among ordinary folks. But no sooner does agitation commence, and it becomes a matter of necessity, as well as policy, to discover the political bearing of the various tribes, than we hear nothing but "runangas" going on all over the country. Archdeacon Williams translates the word "runanga," "a council," and illustrates it with the remark, "Kei te runanga to tatou hoa;" Anglice: "Our friend is at the Council." Honorable members of the Colonial Parliament, who profess great sagacity in native matters, term a "runanga," a "conference," which certainly sounds more imposing, if it in reality means no more than the other. A few years back we used to hear a meeting of tribes simply termed a "korero" (a talk); or, a "ko-miti" (a committee); and it is only lately that our ears have been regaled with the high sounding term, "runanga." Dr. Barth, in his

"Africa," observes, "that the natives of warm climates do everything indolently, but talk," and his remark most certainly holds good in these Islands, and to the inhabitants of both colors. Among the Maoris nothing can be done without a talk, and not only in ordinary discussion of a topic, but in a systematic churning of the subject over and over again, viewing it in every conceivable light and aspect. A marriage will not unoften cause them two or three nights' discussion before they give their consent. The most ordinary commercial transaction involves an amount of talk most extraordinary, while the sale or lease of a small block of land furnishes such a subject that it is quite impossible to calculate the amount of wind spent on its consideration. As an old inhabitant of these Islands, I, among others, was somewhat stunned when I met the tremendous account of runangas held over the country, and duly chronicled in the colonial papers; and I fully determined that, when an opportunity offered, I would make it my business to attend a runanga, and for the benefit of my friends, who might not have had that pleasure, to duly chronicle an account of the proceedings.

It so happened, that when I was engaged on an inland station, in the only occupation there that I usually take part, that, the door of the woolshed being suddenly darkened, I was somewhat surprised

to see the cause of the obstruction of the light was the familiar form of my old friend, Jeremiah, who, as passing that way, deemed it a duty he owed to society to call in a friendly way, and, as a further duty to himself, to beg for some tobacco. These two objects of his visit he expressed by a most comprehensive pantomimic performance; raising his eyebrows to express his salutations, and tapping the bowl of his pipe with his forefinger nail to call attention to its emptiness. I very shortly discovered that he and his brother Ezekiel, with their wives and children, were all en route for a runanga to be held some thirty miles further on, and in consideration of my supplying him with a few figs of tobacco, he graciously invited me to attend it; as a further inducement, observing that there was to be a great "hakari," or "feast," and that hospitality was to be most lavishly bestowed on the visitors. Being fully determined that I would attend a runanga, I accepted the invitation, and promised to be there on the following day; which proposition on my part thunderstruck my old friend, who led me to understand that I should be in plenty of time a week hence, as he had to pass several pahs on the road, at all of which there would be "koreros," and the journey itself would at least cost him three days travelling, on account of the tamaitis (children), who were not strong enough to walk over ten miles

per day, and in further consideration of the old women having heavy loads of provisions to carry. Of this latter fact, I speedily became painfully aware, as I glanced at the procession forming in Indian file, for the poor old creatures were bent almost double between potatoes and years. My old friend of the horse-shoe had gone so far as to carry a small child on his hack; but, with that exception, the men seemed to carry nothing but their clothes, nor is it a point of aboriginal gallantry usual to do otherwise. Promising my friend, Jeremiah, that I would be duly at the meeting, I not unwillingly got rid of him, as I have not the least doubt that he would have talked for any indefinite period.

Punctual to the time, I and my friend, Harry Briggs, who (in consequence of his domestic arrangements, which I need not more particularly enter into) talks Maori like a native, saddled our horses, and made for the rendezvous. "Halloa," cried Harry, as we pulled up our horses about a mile from the pah, "there goes a string of darkies a-head, we are in plenty of time it seems." It was not long before we came up with them, and sure enough it was Jeremiah and his troop, who had in the course of their wayside bivouacs been joined by a score or more of their acquaintances, and what between "koreros" and "ko-mitis" had not made any

further progress on their journey than where we found them. Of course, the whole corps fraternised with us at once, and the high spirits of the party seemed to promise rather a happy "hakari" than. otherwise. The old men jabbered, the old women chattered, and the small fry gabbled away at a great rate, the burden being all respecting the "hakari" and the "runanga." I remarked some very agreeable costumes amongst them, primeval and unique. One old man was habited in a beaver hat, considerably worse for wear, and an old shirt; an old woman had nothing on but a tattered chemise, and a rusty black handkerchief tied round her head, her withered skinny limbs and weazen face appearing to great advantage. The children were habited in various cast off garments of the older people, ingeniously shortened to meet the smaller proportions of the youth, by tearing off the bottoms of the legs of the trowsers and the sleeves off shirts, but as the seats of the former and the shoulders of the latter were not effected by this curtailing, and as rarely one child owned both garments, the effect was very diversified and lively. The old women, who had for some time appeared in excellent health and spirits, and with whom I had been endeavouring to hold an animated conversation, no sooner arrived within about four hundred yards of the pah, than they appeared to me

to be all suddenly seized with colic or some similar internal disorder. Their faces assumed one of the most hideous expressions I ever beheld, and twinge followed twinge in such rapid succession, that I said to Briggs, "Bless my soul, Briggs, what's the matter with these old wretches, look what horrible unearthly faces they are pulling!" "Why man!" said he, "don't you know? they are only getting ready for a 'tangi!'"

As the reader may not know what a "tangi" is, I may briefly say, that when Maoris meet after a long absence, they invariably have a good cry for an hour or so, and that the same "tangi" is likewise held over their dead, whether man or beast. It is usually performed by the parties sitting in a circle, and commencing a noise, which, without being a groan, or a howl, or a whine, partakes of the properties of all three.

I do not know what these old people had to cry about, but I may safely assert, that they pumped up tears from some hidden recess in about five minutes, and by the time we arrived at the pah, presented one of the most perfect pictures of wretchedness that it was possible to conceive humanity could be brought to. "My word," said I to Harry, "if one of those old women could keep that face up, and kick up that horrid row for a few days on London Bridge, she'd

draw more money than all the pavement artists, sore legs, and blind men since the days of Adam. Why they'd be bankrupt in a week." "I believe you, my boy!" replied my friend. "Why I once poisoned an old woman's cat that used to prowl about my hen roost, and pitched it into a ditch, and can tell you that horrid old hag came 'tangi-ing' away by the side of that ditch for days; she nearly drove me mad. I had to give her a pound of tobacco, and a lot of print, to get rid of her."

Having arrived at the pah, we found about a couple of hundred Natives assembled, who greeted our party with shouts of welcome, firing of guns, and an amount of yelling that was overpowering. Whatever their opinions might be respecting us as Europeans, I know not; but they professed to be very glad to see us. Jeremiah, who had kindly undertaken to act as my chaperone, if I may use the term, gave me a hand to tether out my horse, and during the operation, gave me confidentially to understand that he had taken a slight survey of the preparations for the feast, and that they were splendid. "Ka-nui, ka-nui, ka-nui te kai," said he, which I may interpret, "Lots, lots, l-o-ots of food." The pork was remarkable for "pata" (butter or fat), and there was rice, sugar, and flour in abundance. In fact, the extraordinary and almost frantic delight of my old friend

at the prospect of this feast was one of the pleasantest pictures I saw that day; more amusing, perhaps, by his winding up with, the singular enquiry as to whether I had a spoon in my pocket, and receiving an answer in the negative, stated his regret, as he should not be maro-ro (strong) at the rice; but, however, he would make shift with a mussel-shell. During this time, the tangi was going on at a great rate, and my friend, Jeremiah, deemed it, I suppose, a matter of duty to join it; and seating himself in the group, he, in one moment, changed his face so completely, and set up such an unearthly howl, that I could stand it no longer, and made off to some distance; but as I got to about twenty yards from him, and cast my eyes back, I saw the tears running down his face, and he a model of abject misery. Jeremiah was evidently an old hand at a "tangi."

Out of such a motley crew as were gathered about the pah, I should have difficulty in individualising the groups, consisting of old and young, male and female, in every kind of dress, from the most select slop fashions of Messrs. Moses and Son, to the normal kaitaka (bordered mat) and pihe-pihe of the fig-leaf simplicity. My friend, Harry, with true English gallantry, had fraternised with a bevy of kotiros (or young girls), with whom he was flirting prodigiously, doling them out pieces of tobacco with a degree of

generosity that seemed to evoke the greatest contempt from a lot of conceited young fellows that lounged about him.

In the meantime, great preparations were going on for cooking the feast, all the pots in the neighbourhood, I think, had been pressed into the service, round which, numbers of old men and women hovered like so many vultures, poking bits of sticks underneath the legs of the tripods to expedite the cooking, and blowing and puffing away out of their asthmatic chests, till a violent fit of coughing threatened to burst all the blood vessels they had in their superannuated old carcases. Things, however, were got ready at last, and served up in baskets made of flax (known as "kits"), calabashes, pots, and kettles; and a roar of "kai-kai! haeremai," created a sudden sensation amongst the outsiders. The girls vanished like a lot of columbines in a pantomime, leaving my friend, Briggs, to the care of a mangy old dog, who, I have reason for believing, was deaf, as every other dog about the place seemed to be perfectly aware of the cause of the commotion. The "tangi" ceased instantaneously, and Jeremiah showed more agility on that occasion in making for the pots, than I should ever have given his old limbs credit for. Harry and I, as manawhiris (strangers), were not forgotten, and to do old Jeremiah credit, and give him his due, he

dived in among the hot food with his skinny fingers and rumaged about the mess for the choicest morsels he could discover to give us. It is true that the heat of the fish and pork caused him to withdraw his hands rather suddenly, and to carry his fingers convulsively to his mouth to ease the pain, but one must not be particular on these occasions, and seeing an old man half scalding his fingers off to do the duties of host, increases one's respect for him.

It was a great sight! I cannot say that knives and forks rattled, but those natural tools, as the old saying goes, had their origin before them, certainly went at an awful pace. I could not look at it very much, the scene was too overpowering, but when I did, I was sure to catch the eye of old Jeremiah, who invariably jerked up his eyelids and tremulously pointed with his greasy finger, or the shank of some defunct porker, at the mess, as if he would say, "Isn't it prime, old fellow? Did I overdraw the picture when I told you what a great lot of food there would be?" and motioning to us to fall to again.

But his ecstasies became perfectly indescribable when the rice was served up. Having no dish fit to hold enough, they cleaned out a canoe some thirty feet long, two feet and a half wide, and about the same depth, and emptying, I imagine, about two bags of boiled rice into it, they tilted in a bag of sugar,

and mixing up the whole lot with a spade, they crowded round the steaming mess with oyster and mussel-shells in their hands, and set to in earnest. And now I saw the advantage old Ezekiel had over a great number of his fellow guests, for that artful old man had hoarded up a fragment of an old gravy-spoon in the corner of his blanket, which he now produced, and by the systematic way in which he tackled the rice, however the younger ones might be qualified to teach him to suck eggs, he certainly shewed them what rice-eating was.

Perhaps as singular a sight, was that of an old fellow who was tabooed, or sacred. I don't know what for, but so it was, and as such, was forbidden to touch food with his own hands. It fell to the lot of a young woman to feed him, and she certainly lost no time about it. There the old fellow sat with his mouth wide open like an unfledged pigeon, while she crammed him with large lumps of meat, fish, potatoes, and such solids as she could lay hands on. Briggs's gallantry, however, would not permit him long to look on at this exhibition, and he very kindly undertook to relieve her. At the first mouthful, Harry, not being very expert, had his fingers sharply bitten by the old man, who invariably shut his eyes when he opened his mouth. Knowing Briggs's weakness for practical jokes, I fully expected to see a bit of mud or some

similar substance thrust in, as the old fellow never looked at the morsel, but put implicit confidence in his jackal. Harry, however, did not do so, but when he came to feed the old man with rice he got the loan of Ezekial's spoon (that worthy having arrived at as near a pitch of suffocation as he well could without choking on the spot), and with this tool he ladled the hottest mouthfuls he could find, diving to the very bottom of the canoe, into the old man's mouth. In vain the old fellow jabbered and sputtered with the tears streaming down his tattooed cheeks, Harry paid no attention, and the other Natives were too intent on their own private gorgings to pay any heed to anybody or anything else; and the exhibition finally ended, by the old man making off somewhat hurriedly, and Harry rolling on his back and laughing till he was nearly black in the face.

Nature, however, refused to hold out longer, and the body of feasters being now pretty well filled, the canoe was taken possession of by the prowling curs about, who with their tongues finished off what morsels had escaped the attack of their fingers and mussel-shells. I saw old Jeremiah lying down on the ground, his face beaming with smiles, and shining with grease, but that good old man's heart and stomach were too full to permit him to speak, and when I speak of Jeremiah individually, I may most

safely include five-sixths of the company about him.

I may here passingly observe, that however extravagant this sketch of the hakari may seem, it is in reality not a particle overdrawn. On the contrary, I have studiously avoided a great deal of matter of an offensive kind, that I might truthfully have introduced. Gluttony in its coarsest form, greediness and filth that were manifested by not one or two individuals, but the greater portion; and I have merely alluded to these incidents that gave the affair an amusing character. Since I witnessed the above, I have had numerous, and far more convenient opportunities of being present at native feasts, but I have never attended another. I do not say that I had expected the proceedings to have exhibited a more delicate character, nor that, all things considered, it was a more offensive exhibition than I anticipated; but I do feel myself justified in remarking that the reader has the most pleasing aspect of a hakari presented to him in this sketch. This, however, is a digression.

So soon as the digestive organs of the company had so far recovered themselves as to permit any return to animation, the "runanga" began. It professed to be a general tribal conference respecting the sale of some land to Europeans, a discussion on the king movement, and a variety of other matters

relating to marriages and other domestic matters, that I need not here dilate upon. The meeting was summoned by a blowing into the mouth of a "kahaka" (calabash), in the side of which were punctured two or three holes. I think the native name for the instrument is "re-hu." They succeed, in some way peculiar to themselves, in extracting a most horrid noise out of the thing at all events, which was not rendered the more melodious by another individual perseveringly banging with a short stick at an iron pot. It had the effect, however, of summoning the whole pah, and seating themselves in rows, on the ground, they left a sort of avenue for the speakers to stand in and spout. Their elocution is, if not of a very high order, of a particularly vehement kind. The first old man who spoke, and who seemed to be a sort of chief among them, commenced by walking up and down between the rows for some time, brandishing his "tai-aha," or spear, and saying nothing. The spirit, however, moved him very shortly, and with great gesticulation he commenced a long rigmarole about the "waka," the canoe of his ancestors. He jumped, raved, shouted, and roared until I thought he had taken leave of his wits altogether; but what he was talking about I have not the most remote idea. The majority of the conference did not appear to pay

much attention, one observing to me that he was talking "nukerau" (nonsense), and another that the "koroheka" (old man) was "porangi" (foolish), from which I gathered that the old fellow was merely bent on giving vent to his feelings, without having any other definite object in view. Jeremiah, who spoke shortly after him, did not appear to make much better of it, but he gave me confidentially to understand that his "korero" was the most "maroro" (strong) of the lot, and that he had said great things for the "pakehas" (white men). I subsequently learnt, however, that in private conversations he had done precisely the reverse; and I afterwards discovered that those who may pin their faith on what they hear at these runangas, may not unlikely find themselves most woefully deceived. It is scarcely worth while to enter further into an account of the proceedings, for it was very little I could make out of what the speakers said, their style of oratory becoming so monotonous and so grievously wiredrawn, that one gets very shortly sick of the whole concern. I saw it, however, reported afterwards in one of the public journals; although I can honestly say, that neither Harry nor myself, who were the only Europeans present, ever made any report of it: and so far as regards any version that might be rendered by any of the Natives present,

though I do not say it would be essentially false, I certainly should accept it with great caution. We left them talking, and I believe they kept it up for some two or three days. Jeremiah and his family returned past my door about a week after, and told me that he had stopped till all the provisions were finished, and I subsequently learnt that the parties who had given the feast were nearly starved for some months afterwards, having been nearly eaten out of house and home, in return for their misplaced hospitality.

PARNAPA.

PARNAPA.

IN commencing my biography of this individual, I may be permitted, in justice to myself, to observe that I am probably selecting one of the most favorable specimens of the genus Maori, and that my remarks are not founded upon a casual acquaintance, but on one of some years' standing, during which time I had ample opportunity of considering his character. Of Parnapa's infancy, I know little or nothing; he might have been born "of poor but industrious parents" for aught I know, though I think the latter epithet an extremely doubtful one. It appears, however, that at an early age he had attended missionary schools, and had there got a smattering of reading and writing, of which accomplishments he was particularly vain, and never let occasion slip for parading them. Having mixed a great deal among the more respectable order of Europeans, he had imbibed most contemptuous opinions of his fellow Maoris, and could not be offended more deeply than by being alluded to as one of them. He was of an extremely ubiquitous

turn of character, and very rarely resided amongst the Natives when he could help it, and a friend of mine who owned a sheep station in the immediate vicinity of this locality, kept Parnapa about his place for some years. This was an extremely gratifying arrangement to Parnapa's feelings, as he was within hailing distance of the pah, ready to be summoned to all runangas, committees, and koreros; while at the same time he sustained his character as an exclusionist. My friend also, who dealt a good deal with the Natives in produce, employed Parnapa as his man of business in all negotiations on occasions when he employed native labor. Parnapa looked after them at their work, kept the accounts, and acted the part of overseer, which position was one of great honor to him, and one which he was not slow to exhibit the power of when he had occasion to do so. In person he stood about six feet high, and stout in proportion, with a fat good natured face, and the most enormous legs and feet that I ever saw attached to any human being. His boots were perfect curiosities in their way, more especially as they were rarely in an efficient state of repair, but cobbled up with flax and nails in the most extraordinary style; and as usually he dressed tolerably respectable upwards, the figure he cut on most occasions was most ludicrous. To see him at his toilet was one of

the most absurd spectacles that one could witness. Having washed himself, and cased his nether man in the usual habiliments, which were uncommonly tight strained, he very frequently met with the same fate as Humphrey Clinker, and a good deal of stitching and mending generally ensued about those articles which were constantly giving way. Having proceeded so far, he would take a seat and examine the state of his great boots like a magpie does a marrowbone, and used to soliloquise on their dilapidated condition in this style, "Dear! dear! my boots are burst again! too much of this work I no good that shoemaker! presently I shall go to town, and talk to him about these bad boots," and so on; but the way he gave these remarks in half Maori half English, made the matter much more comical. The hammer and a few tacks would then be ferreted out, and he would set to work to patch them up. The boots at last fixed for the time being, he would commence at the glass to arrange his hair, which outwardly presented the appearance of a boar's mane, and required no small tact to assort it. As to putting a parting into it, that was out of the question, as no sooner did the comb draw it to one side, such was its strength, than it flew back into its old form like a bit of watch spring. He would then commence dabbing it all over with hair oil (which he was very fond of

getting), applying the same to his face, and at every dab he would pull the most horrible grimaces at himself. This performance would often last a good half-hour, and mounting a white collar, and tying his neckerchief, the rest of his clothes were thrown on anyhow, and the addition of one of the most wretched beaver hats that I ever beheld, announced Parnapa ready for town, and away he went in blissful ignorance of the extraordinary spectacle he presented.

The predominant feature in Parnapa's character was his extraordinary love of imitation. Whatever he saw anybody get or do, that must Parnapa set his brains in steep to imitate. When my friend first settled in Parnapa's neighbourhood, he brought up most of his goods in boxes which were locked. This necessitated his carrying about a bunch of keys, and Parnapa must also have a bunch of keys forthwith. He, I believe, on that occasion went into town and bought a great box, which he carried out on his back, a distance of some thirteen miles. What he had to put in it I know not, and I do not think he cared much about it so long as he could carry the key about his neck. Whatever my friend bought in the clothing way, Parnapa must have, and my friend's counterpart was perpetually appearing in all sorts of strange places.

When the militia and volunteers were first enrolled, he adopted a long peaked cap and a sort of blue serge sac Nothing would suit Parnapa because he saw me wearing them, but he must invest in similar uniform, and, I believe, would have been lettered and striped as we were, had I not put the notion out of his head by telling him that such insignia were only worn by the rank and file. In fact, it made no matter what one adopted, Parnapa was never satisfied until he had the same.

No one could possibly have the acquaintance of Parnapa without liking him. He was the model of good nature, and his faults, the chief of which was his inordinate conceit, were so excessively comical that it was impossible to help liking the fellow.

It would be hardly consistent to term Parnapa an industrious man, but he was always doing something and making a great fuss about it. But as a racehorse is all the more valuable when he can be effectually pushed out at the right moment, so Parnapa was always "all there" when his energies were suddenly called upon. If cattle or sheep got away into the bush, once find them and there was no vile gully full of vines, brambles, and brushwood, that Parnapa would not rush into like a great bull to get them out. Should it so happen the station ran out of meat, Parnapa would load the gun, and

taking a sheep dog with him, would hunt through the bush after pigs, day after day, caring little where he went, what sort of brutes of pigs he came across, or how far he had to carry them home.

He would set to work in the summer hunting eels, sinking a kit in some narrow part of a creek, imbedding it in the mud, and then wading down the stream some distance from this trap, chase great eels before him, rousing them out of their holes with his great hoofs, and plunging his arms under the roots of the trees growing by the edge, till he presented such a mass of mud, that it was difficult to tell what color he was, and from the figure he presented, I would not have given much for his life had M. de Chaillu, the gorilla hunter, met with him. Once raise his conceit, and there was scarcely anything he would not try at. Let him get any foolish crotchet into his head, and you might hammer away long enough before you could beat it out of him by abusing him about it, but once tell him that "That was the way the foolish Maoris did," and his dislike to being coupled with them, would, in all probability, make him abandon all idea of it at once.

He had great ideas of himself as a scribe, and considering his education, it was wonderful the way he managed his accounts; when Natives were employed on the station for any length of time, what

with the papers on which he kept their time, the number of sticks of tobacco they got, and other matters, he amassed such a pile of documents, that it was most bewildering to look at. To keep things regularly ship-shape, he purchased some very smart pens with long holders to them (with one of which I am now writing this episode on him), and of an evening would sit down, stick these long pens at the back of his ears, and with a face in which pride, importance, and anxiety were most oddly blended, he would purse up his hps, knit his brows, and taking them up (the papers), one by one, would pause and sigh over their contents, occasionally muttering, if he saw anybody looking at him, "Aue! ka nui te puka puka ahau!" (Dear me, what a lot of papers I have got here.) We, who were in the secret, knew well enough that all he had to do was to put down that two men had worked that day, and one of them had bought a stick of tobacco. His duties as clerk of the bench, I believe, were most onerous, and involved a fearful amount of correspondence, at least so Parnapa stated, and indeed if it fell to his lot to copy one half of the jargon usually talked at the runangas, I really pitied Parnapa.

His plan of keeping accounts too, was, though extremely perfect in its way, somewhat cumbrous.

To give an instance – my friend on one occasion bought three or four pigs from the Natives. Parnapa, as Major-domo, saw them weighed, and that part of the business concluded, came into the house in a state of great importance and fuss, and brought out all his batch of papers, and his long shanked pens. Down he sat to enter them, but instead of putting the sum total in one line in his book, and putting a paid to it, he first presented each individual owner of the pigs with the account of the weight of his pig, and the price of it; he then entered the matter in his station-book, thus: – one pig, fifteen shillings – one pig, one pound, and so on. He then put down in another book he had, the memorandum of sale under the head of each individual whose names he had written on the top of each page, and lastly he entered the account on another paper for his own satisfaction, and folding all his documents up, returned his pens to their place, and observed that it was all right. As, however, his papers were somewhat loosely put together, and a puff of wind coming in at the door would not unfrequently blow them off on the floor, where they were victimised for pipe lights; the next time he went over the accounts, I don't think he knew what those that were left meant, for he would frown, and mutter, and drone over them, apparently in the greatest perplexity.

To pass over Parnapa without alluding to him as parish clerk, if I may so term his sacred office, would not be doing justice to this remarkable individual. I never attended the church to hear him, but I saw him go through part of his role. On one occasion, which impressed me very strongly, we happened to be sheep-shearing at the time, and not having a wool-shed built we had a wool-bale tacked up in a frame in the kitchen, and carried the fleeces into the house, while Parnapa got into the bale and tramped them in with his ponderous feet. Things were progressing, when I had occasion to go to the house and stopped outside at hearing one of the most melancholy wailing sounds issuing therefrom. I went sharply in, and there stood Parnapa in the wool-bale with his body about half out and a book in his hand, pretending to sing a hymn out of a pulpit, while half a dozen old men, women, and children, were squatted on the ground with their eyes fixed on him with wonder and admiration. Those who may have observed the local capabilities of the itinerant order of Primitive Methodist preachers at home, may have remarked a peculiar manner they have of introducing a turn shake after prolonging a key note, and may not improbably have considered it not only an extraneous and unnecessary display of vocal execution, but a trifle ridiculous; but had they

heard Parnapa's imitation of it, and the utter lack of any tune whatever in his performance, they would have exploded with laughter. So comical indeed was the recollection, that upon a subsequent occasion, when I happened to spend a rough night in Parnapa's hut, upon his informing me that he was going to say his prayers, I requested him to omit the musical portion of it, lest I should give way to unseemly mirth, and, as he was reading away, the scene I had witnessed before came so vividly back to my remembrance, that it was all I could do to restrain my laughter at its bare recollection. Parnapa had been educated among the Wesleyans, and I suppose he had there learnt this musical feat. I do not know that he ever attended any of their tea meetings, but I rather suspect a few, and with Parnapa's immense powers of eating would not have rendered the affair very profitable to the contractors.

Parnapa occasionally used to cook, but beyond boiling a bit of meat or a few potatoes, his efforts were not generally crowned with very great success. He had a nephew, a small boy of a most precocious nature, who was termed "Tua Tara," from a horrid sort of lizard that the Natives abhor. I have not space to describe him more particularly, I regret to say. But on one occasion, when he happened to be in the house, Parnapa was cooking, and being left

to his own devices, had mixed up a thick kind of batter, and putting on the fire a frying-pan half full of lard, was frizzling away at a sort of pancakes. Tua Tara sat crouched up in the corner of the fireplace, his little dark eyes watching the frizzling and spluttering away in great anxiety and delight; when at last his feelings would not allow him to restrain his ecstacies at such a greasy mess any longer, and slapping his dirty little leg with, if possible, a still dirtier little hand, he burst out, "Kaore te kamana ote mahi Parnapa" (there is no gammon about the cookery of Parnapa), and so far as grease was concerned there certainly was not!

Many anecdotes I might introduce of my friend, Parnapa, but I must make my story short, and the last trait I may mention about him, was the good-natured way that he would tell tales about himself. In spite of our remonstrances, he would persist in going into town with his great beaver hat on his head; a hat utterly napless, brown in color, and of most antique build. In country towns – few people wear them in the colonies – the fact of wearing one at all is sufficient to attract attention. Parnapa in passing along the street, fell in with a company of volunteers returning in marching order, bayonets fixed, from their parade, and drew up against a house to see them pass. Colonial volunteers are

not, as a body, the most indisposed for a joke, and spying Parnapa and his great hat, they edged into the wall, till they forced him to stick straight up with his arms to his side. No sooner was he in this position, than one jutted out his elbow and caught Parnapa in the stomach, thus causing him to stumble forward; another got a crack at his hat and knocked it off; as he stooped to pick it up, he got a push behind, and turning sharply to confront his assailant, off went his hat from the rear; he was now set on like a bull by a lot of dogs, and as file after file passed him, he got so many buffs and pokes, ending with a bayonet going right through his hat, that on the whole he returned rather the worse for wear. He, nevertheless, told the tale with a smile on his face, and though there was no doubt that he had been too hardly treated, the air of simplicity and sheepish good nature, with which he told the tale against himself, left one no alternative but to join in the laugh against him. He, however, never wore his hat again. "Too much o taku potae" (Too much of my hat), he would say with a snigger, as he gazed on its battered form.

And the reader may not improbably now say, "Too much of Parnapa." I have, perhaps, entered at too great a length into his character, but as I glance back at what I have written, I barely think I

have done the old fellow justice. He was, without exception, the best Maori I ever met. In sickness he was a careful and considerate nurse. In moments of petulance and anger he overlooked many an angry word; obliging to a degree, he was always ready to do a good turn; and, on the whole, passed an easy indolent life, free from care and anxiety; at the same time he was utterly destitute of that cunning, overreaching trickery that so particularly is the failing of most of the Maoris, and he was the only one that I ever put the slightest confidence in. In money matters he was scrupulously honest, and if intrusted with money would account for every penny. But, like all Maoris, he would run into debt if he could. I believe, however, he paid his debts as soon as he was able, but like all good-natured men, it was very rarely he had a penny. He was not free from faults, but I believe he had no vices, and I can but regret that in the numerous acquaintances I have made with aborigines, I have had few opportunities of meeting any who, if they laid claim to less eccentricity than he, were still utterly destitute of his principle.

WHAKAWAS.

WHAKAWAS.

There is no mistake about it! I read it myself in the Maori Messenger, and I congratulate the country on it. Jeremiah is made a magistrate! Elected, I am led to understand, without opposition.

He received the intelligence of his appointment one day, and commenced active duty the next; and for the space of one month, he has been constantly at magisterial work – like a clucking hen, he has been perpetually sitting. With the exception of his policeman (an intensely dirty man who rejoices in the name of Absalom), and his clerk, I think he has summoned and tried everybody in his pah, and has fined the parties to the tune of some thousands of pounds – about four times the value of the whole of the district at present unalienated. This looks like work! And, I repeat it, I congratulate the country upon the appointment. As for Parnapa, whose services have been called into requisition (he being the only man about here who can write legibly), he has amassed such a pile of documents that if this work goes on, I anticipate a rise in the paper-

market before long. I cannot say that I feel any regrets at the "stirring up" that Jeremiah is at present giving his people, as my private opinion is, that the Natives about here would be no worse for a system of partial crucifixion being brought into operation, and in default of that extreme course, I rather chuckle at the spectacle of old Jeremiah "coming down upon them" pretty stiffly in his court. His fines, indeed, may be great "myths," and in all probability they are; but even if he gets the costs of his summonses, which I have an idea that he does, and that is about all – why, it is something.

These enormous fines, however, that Parnapa enters in his book, look very imposing, though considering that the sinners who are mulcted in them are worth nothing, perhaps a trifle absurd.

Amphora caepit
Institui; currente rota urceus exit

would be a capital quotation to inscribe on Jeremiah's rostrum.

I have only attended one case as yet before the courts, and, as I shall not inconvenience myself by attending another, I purpose devoting a few lines to a description of it.

The facts out of which the case arose were briefly these. A lady of the name of Lavinia. who for

some time had labored under the stigma of being no better than she should be, was supposed to have committed herself, in the absence of her husband (a long shanked fellow of the name of Abraham), who had gone on a pilgrimage to a neighbouring settlement, to attend a judicial inquiry touching the virtue of his aunt. Malachi (also the Kaiwhakawa of "Our Pah"), to whose ears the frail conduct of Madame Lavinia officially came, at once summoned her and her Lothario before his court, and fined the pair some twenty pounds.

Upon Abraham's return, the circumstances were duly reported to him. After first denouncing the authority of the court, to take cognizance of the matter in his absence, he forthwith called a large "runanga," composed of the Whakawas of the neighbouring tribes (including old Jeremiah), and sued thereat for a divorce, A mensa et thoro.

A case of such importance as this was the signal for a general gathering from all parts, of young and old; and a great slaughtering of pigs, and collection of potato kits, was at once undertaken by Malachi and his people.

The possibility of an enquiry into the justice of his decision in this case appeared to have presented itself to the mind of that enlightened man previously. For he, with the assistance of Parnapa, had examined

and re-examined the witnesses to such an extent that the possibility of a "break down" in the evidence seemed a sheer impossibility. Independent of this, hosts of outsiders had been set to work to engage them in private conversations, and to report to Parnapa, who forthwith took copies of the same; and as these living examples of the oratio obliqua had to be likewise examined and cross-examined, I need hardly say that the case was thoroughly "got up." The day, however, arrived at last for the grand hearing before the collection of judicial wisdom of the district, and with it came old Jeremiah in a great state of fuss, followed by all his people. As he passed my door on his way down, he confidentially informed me that Malachi and Parnapa were a pair of fools, and that he would put them to the right about very shortly. He appeared to be thoroughly up to the plaintiff's case at all events, as indeed he might be, having given Abraham a private hearing of his case, which lasted two whole nights and the part of a day. He assured me that there were some awful lies told somewhere, at present a mystery which he was destined to shortly unravel, and bring the culprits to an unparalleled amount of grief.

The case had been going on for some two days and nights, when curiosity prompted me to pay a visit to the court.

The whare Whakawa (court-house) was tolerably full when I arrived, but business was temporarily suspended.

A group of dissipated young fellows were playing draughts in one corner, the board being marked out on the floor, and the men composed of slices of potatoes, the black ones ingeniously marked with a burnt stick. As however their dirty fingers had made the whites nearly black, by constant handling, some dispute seemed arising respecting the ownership of a king.

A number of old women were sitting jabbering round the fire, engaged in roasting maize in the ashes. One of the magistrates was busily at work in one corner patching his shirt with a piece of old print and some flax. Another was engaged with one of the jury at an exciting game of "all fours," played with an almost illegible pack of cards, and kept constantly vociferating "To Ti-aki!" (Your Jack!) as he dabbled down a greasy piece of pasteboard, with the faint outlines of a king of hearts impressed thereon, it being one of the few court cards the pack seemed to possess. A brother "beak" lay fast asleep in another corner, emitting a stentorian noise from that feature of his face corresponding with his "slang" official name, and the rest of the company, including old Jeremiah, sat in great state,

wrapped in their blankets, awaiting another call to duty.

Upon enquiry of that worthy, I found out that they had not got all the witnesses examined yet, and that there was little prospect of their getting through that day. Roused, however, by my desire to hear something of the case, Jeremiah turned out his dirty constable, who was fast asleep behind some potato kits, who, after shaking himself, forthwith commenced roaring at the top of his voice through the hopper of an old wheat mill, summoning all the parties to attend the court, while, at the same time, Parnapa proceeded to beat the "devil's tatoo" upon his iron pot, in the midst of which clamour the audience collected.

The draughts and cards were put aside, the magistrates, presided over by the gentleman with the dilapidated shirt, took their seats at one end of the building, Parnapa squatted himself down with an old gin case between his knees, arranged his documents, and the examination re-commenced.

The witness, an old woman with a cracked voice, similar in tone to a demented guinea-fowl, proceeded with great gesticulation to give her evidence, which appeared to amount to what somebody had told her, some other party had said they had heard that another individual had stated, or something to that

effect, equally important; which individuals were presently to be produced. In reply to leading questions from Parnapa, she began by stating time and place, where she had been told this story, which appeared to be "about the middle of the day, in some adjoining cultivation."

Jeremiah here asked the witness what she was doing there, to which she replied, "going to gather potatoes." A doubt was here expressed by another old woman among the spectators, "whether the witness had any potatoes belonging to her there abouts," upon which Jeremiah gave it as his opinion "that the old woman was there for the purpose of stealing potatoes," and insisted on a summons being issued against her at once.

At this accusation the old woman waxed furious, and equally urged the propriety of Jeremiah himself being summoned for "korero kino" (slander). Thereupon a regular row ensued, which lasted for about half an hour, and only terminated by the old woman being summarily bundled out by old Parnapa.

The next witness, an old man, who did not appear to have any collected ideas upon any subject, was examined touching a similar point as his predecessor, and managed to get himself so inextricably involved in about half an hour, that the bench became perfectly

bewildered, and Parnapa's deposition a mass of confusion. An adjournment was therefore proposed for the purpose of refreshment, and a general scramble for the provisions ensued on the part of the bench, witnesses, jury, spectators, and constables.

I had the pleasure of having seen a similar exhibition to this some time before, and I therefore adjourned myself home. After spending the whole of that day and night, and the greater portion of the ensuing day, in examining and re-examining the witnesses, including a searching cross-examination of both plaintiff and defendant, I heard that there was a probability of a decision being arrived at, and judgment given, that evening, and I went down to hear it.

The consultation was going on when I arrived, and as I entered the whare whakawa, there sat the magistrates and their clerk in a state of blank amazement; the depositions lay scattered about the floor, and if ever perfect imbecility and bewilderment were expressed on human faces, it was on theirs. They had talked and droned away over the case until I really believe that they had not the faintest idea of anything respecting it.

Finding out that I was intruding, I passed a little way down from the court-house, and discovered the plaintiff, defendant, and co-respondent, in a state

of semi-stupefaction. They had been badgered and brow-beaten to the confines of lunacy.

Later on in the evening the bench, however, gave judgment (what the jury were for I could never make out). They found Lavinia guilty, fined her and her admirer some two or three hundred pounds (which it is to be hoped they will get), and decreed a judicial divorce.

Parnapa was despatched to acquaint the plaintiff with the decision; he went to the hut, and peeping in, there lay the two divorced fast asleep under the only blanket they possessed, while gravely smoking his pipe in a blissful state of mental aberration at their feet, sat the co-respondent.

Excessive was Parnapa's disgust at this discovery. Here was the plaintiff making all this hubbub, only to make fools of the runanga! – What a climax! I hear that he is to be tried for this, and no end of witnesses to be prosecuted for perjury; at any rate, if old Jeremiah is allowed to work his wicked will on them I have no doubt that condign punishment awaits these reptiles. How many people were gathered together I really cannot tell, or how Malachi's herd of pigs and potato heaps have diminished, but somebody will have to pay for it I expect.

Now, this case has no romance about it. It in

reality occurred as here portrayed, and is, in point of absurdity, but one out of scores that have been tried here during the last six months. Yet, this is the infancy of an institution that is to be worked upon for the benefit of the Native race – at least, so say savants – be it so. If an occasional fit of temporary idiocy is beneficial to the Native mind, by all means encourage the village Whakawa. How a race that cannot concentrate their faculties upon one single topic for an hour, without wandering into fifty others, are to prove a blessing to our legislative councils and courts of justice, I am at a loss to conceive; or how the internal magisterial appointments are to be advantageous to the Natives themselves when they are allowed universal suffrage on the matter, I shall not here dilate upon, for "Brutus says they will, and Brutus is an able man." But I cannot forbear stating that from nearly eleven years' acquaintance with the Native race, I am strongly of opinion that they are at present utterly unfit for any legislatorial or judicial functions; and considering the utter contempt the rising generation exhibit for education, in future years they will prove still more so. This system of establishing petty courts among themselves, though their own idea, has proved of no use whatever; more harm than good in fact. It has sown a great amount of discord and jealousy

amongst them. Adulterous cases are chiefly what they delight in investigating – the more indelicate the better; and it is very rarely that any others are heard of. As a check upon any other crime it appears to me utterly to fail, and the decisions can no more be carried out by the authorities amongst themselves, than we can do for them. Reform the village Whakawa by all means if you like, but let the features it at present presents be utterly effaced in the picture of the future.

HUIS.

HUIS.

THE "Hui Maori" has been already treated under the head of "Hakari." The term "Hui," however, though strictly meaning a feast, is used commonly by the West Coast Natives, for a sacramental gathering, a "Hui Hakara Meta," and it is under this latter head I now purpose discussing it. When the first of this series of articles originally appeared, it bore the title of "Missionary Influence," and to avoid any charge of inconsistency that might appear after the perusal of this, I submit an explanation. "Missionary Influence" was sketched out some years ago, after a very short residence in the colony. It was shaped a little subsequently to meet the topics of the present day, but was published with the intention of returning to the subject again. It merely represented what my early impressions were on the moral condition of the Natives, and, like many others, closer intimacy with the Maori race has considerably shaken the opinions I then formed.

Jeremiah had informed me some time ago that there was to be a Hui held at his village, and I made up my mind to attend it. My determination was further strengthened when I heard that a young Missionary (whom I shall here term Clericus) was to officiate on the occasion. I accordingly made my way, one Saturday evening, to the village of Upokototo, and was duly installed the guest of Jeremiah during my stay. Clericus was not very far behind me, and was received by the Natives with great cordiality. I had previously had the pleasure of seeing Clericus some years ago; he was then a student at All Saints' College, Camford, and on that occasion was frantically running along the towing path of the river, opposite the well known Inn of the "Harrows," habited in a red shirt, commonly known as an "All Saints' Blazer," enthusiastically cheering Rowlock, of St. Bridget's, who was pulling his "time race" with Badger, of St. Swithen's, for the Normandy sculls. Clericus, in due time, took his degree, was ordained, entered the church, and became one of the Church Missionary staff. In spite of a degree of stiffness, and a tendency to maudlin "tea partyism," Clericus is a very good sort of fellow, thoroughly in earnest in his work, and full of energy and perseverance. He has tackled the Christianisation of these Maoris as if he meant

it, and does not shirk any amount of inconvenience and annoyance. I wish, however, that he had not imbibed his opinions so much from hearsay, and that he would admit the bad side of the Native character as an unpleasant fact, instead of inventing all manner of excuses for them.

The preparation for the Hui seemed to me very much the same as for any other feast; people had come from all parts, and of course they had to be accommodated and fed. Huts were rather short at Upokototo, and many of the visitors were obliged to erect extempore dwellings, which were ingeniously made by hanging a blanket across a ridge pole, giving the scene a gipsy kind of character that was rather pleasing.

As I strolled amongst the tents, making numerous acquaintances, the iron pot hammering commenced as a signal for a gathering, and I followed at the heels of a troop of the "unwashed" to hear what was going on. The Natives rapidly mustered in front of one of the huts, and took their seats with great gravity, while Clericus gave a variety of directions from under the verandah for their guidance.

I found out that it was customary for the officiating minister to catechise the congregation on the sacramental eve, as a preparatory exercise for the duties of the morrow; they accordingly seated them-

selves in rows, and Clericus forthwith commenced putting them through the Church Catechism. The congregation seemed to be well up in this part of their duty at all events – and well they might – since, from Parnapa's information, I found out that they had repeated it as part of their daily service for some weeks previously. I cannot say much, however, for the replies they made to extraneous questions put to them, for I fancied Clericus answered them himself, and I was not surprised at it either; for Parnapa had given me some most vague and foggy answers to one or two questions I had put to him respecting the sacrament; and he, I considered, was the best informed of the lot.

The catechising finished, I took the first opportunity of having a little quiet conversation with my friend Clericus. I put it very mildly to him, "whether he thought the assembled Natives were really fit to understand the solemnity of the service they were about to engage in on the morrow." My reverend friend replied "he hoped they were, he had explained the nature of the subject to them as far as he was able, and he could only trust in the Divine blessing on his labors" etc., ultimately clinching me with the text, "judge not, that ye be not judged." As I did not vouchsafe any reply to this, my reverend friend proceeded to deliver, for

my special benefit, a gratuitous lecture, respecting my duty to my neighbor in general, and Maoris in particular, laying strong stress on the argument of human equality, and the necessity of extending a great amount of charity toward my "dark-skinned brother."

The conversation at this point was interrupted by old Jeremiah, who arrived in a great state of fuss, requesting us to inspect our night's quarters. He had fenced off about nine square feet of one of the huts for our united accommodation, and appeared to be intensely gratified with the completeness of the arrangement.

To my great astonishment, Clericus loudly protested against this lodging; "he was not used to this sort of thing – he must have a hut to himself," and forthwith worked himself into a great state of excitement. In vain Jeremiah pointed out "that his village was small, and that he had a great number of visitors to provide for." Clericus would not hear anything about it, and insisted on two or three very dirty looking families being forthwith turned out. Jeremiah had to give way, and Clericus bundling up his blankets and saddle bags, proceeded to ensconce himself. He very kindly offered me a lodging with him, which I declined.

It certainly struck me that this was rather a

singular example of equality, that he had laid so much stress on; that he should refuse to lodge with his people; and the further step of turning some five and twenty individuals out of the place to roost where they could, may be sit up all night, led me to have some mysterious ideas of his charity.

I, upstart and sinner that I am! look upon myself as being a trifle higher in the social scale than a Maori, and do not scruple to tell him so. If Jeremiah and Co. pay me a visit during meal time, I push the potato-pot over to them, and they squat on the floor and eat, perfectly satisfied with the arrangement, though I sit at the table. If they stay all night, I give them a bundle of straw, and a few sacks to cover themselves with – but I do not preach equality – whereas Clericus, who is full of "Poor Maoris," "Rangatiras," and "Nature's Gentlemen," takes precious good care that few got farther than his back kitchen – Clericus perhaps thinks the Maoris do not remark this – he is rather mistaken, that is all. I did not tell him this, then, nor the reasons I had for declining his hospitality; but the fact was, I came there to take mental notes of what was going on, and my object would not have been gained, had I not mixed with my hosts. Clericus had an early evening service, and shortly afterwards I turned in.

The hut I was put in, was, I imagine, about fifty feet long, and was tenanted by somewhere about seventy individuals of both sexes, young and old. Jeremiah tabooed me a corner to myself, and rolling myself up in my blanket I proceeded to put my eyes and ears on express duty. As regards the conversation, perhaps the least I say the better; I have not an English gradus at hand, to select an epithet to apply to it, and I therefore select the mildest I can to describe it. It was filthy, and that is quite enough. As I was a guest, I have no right to criticise their domestic manners, especially their evening toilets, I shall therefore term them simply rather too airy to suit a fastidious taste. I, however, chose to go, and if my senses were occasionally slightly jarred it was my own seeking. But, reader! I shall never go again. Jeremiah, it appeared, had put his dirty policeman on full duty, and assisted by six specials they patrolled most part of the night. Absalom kept perpetually annoying me by coming in and out the hut during the night, furnishing Jeremiah with reports; I had the curiosity to ask that worthy what it all meant. The police it appeared were put on for the purpose of checking the Social Evil (Jeremiah put it rather stronger than that). How many cases he has tried since that Hui, I cannot tell, their name is legion.

As I looked out in the moonlight on the scene, and at the fires slumbering in front of the red and white tents that were dotted about, I could not but identify it with some of the gipsy encampments I had witnessed at home; but I much question if gipsy camps were the scenes of so much immorality. I do not wish to make this scene appear worse than it was, but I may be permitted to say that this is a mild version of what I saw and heard, and sinks into comparative shade with the glaring accounts I have since heard from others.

I fell asleep ultimately, and did not awake until I heard the iron pot melody performed for matins. This I did not attend, but occupied myself in putting the notes of this sketch together. Clericus and I breakfasted together, and I was then treated by him to a long account of "the delightful feelings with which he witnessed the state of these Natives, and the orderly conduct they had shewn during the night – no 'hakas,' or any of those lewd songs; they had shewed so much earnestness during the services; how thankful he felt," etc, etc I so unmistakably shewed my doubts on this point, that Clericus forestalled any reply that I might have made, by observing, "that irregularities he knew did occur, but he had suggested the employment of the police; if there had been anything of the kind

he should have heard of it," etc.; winding up with another lecture, the burden whereof was, that I was a very great sinner, a maligner of Maoris, who were living examples for me and Christendom at large, and that I ought to be covered with confusion (which I undoubtedly was); and soothed by the reflections cast upon me, I left him preparing for the sacrament.

After Clericus's lecture number one, I know I ought to remember the remark respecting "judges and judgments;" but I cannot forbear stating that I should not have imagined the individuals now collecting were about to receive the sacrament; and as an idea may be gathered of the opinions of some of them, I quote one anecdote out of a number. "Are not you going to take the sacrament?" said an old man to me. "No," I replied, "I am not – are you?" "Oh, yes," said he, "all the Maoris take the sacrament – ka pai te waine" (the wine is very good); and here the old heathen mimicked the act of drinking from a cup. As a further proof of their ignorance, I may mention that I once gave a Maori a glass of spirits in a harvest-field. He took the glass in his hand, and repeated the sentence from the communion service, commencing "the blood of our Lord," etc He then drank the contents off, and broke into a hoarse laugh, in which he was

joined by a number of his friends. These Maoris lived at a mission station.

But now the congregation began to muster, seating themselves in rows, and Clericus gave out the hymn, "Ka tirohia te ripeka," which I take to be a version of "When I survey the wondrous cross." Clericus, however, I consider, made a mistake in trying to sing the tune "Job" to it; for, from the mess they made of it, the patience of the patriarch would have been sorely tried had he heard it. Parnapa was full of his turnshakes and quavers, and the effect was about as harmonious as a good strong rookery. Clericus then delivered a short pithy sermon with much energy, which seemed to have about the same effect as if he had been preaching to a lot of stones; another hymn was then sung, and Clericus commenced the service for the sacrament. I listened a while, but when he came to that portion of it, pointing out the certain damnation that awaited unworthy recipients, I could stand no more. From what I had seen, and what I knew, my presence appeared to me very like a connivance at blasphemy. I only hope that I am wrong.

The scene itself was pretty and pathetic. I have seen it often before in woodcuts in old missionary magazines when I was a boy. My kind old friend, Mrs. Grundy, of Peckham Rye, used to show me

them. She, good old soul, has never missed a May meeting at Exeter Hall for the last twenty years, and never will, I suspect, so long as she lives and there is a cab to carry her.

The picture was effective, and had I not known what I did, would have impressed me strongly. But who were the communicants? There were old men – Pagans you may call them – firm believers in makutu (witchcraft) – disciples of Rongo, Emaru, Korongomai, and other hosts of divinities, belonging to their original creed, who will attend divine service in the morning, and go lizard hunting (kai ngarara) in the afternoon; who in all their afflictions and sicknesses fall back upon the comforts of makutu. There, I say, they were admitted promiscuously to one of the most solemn ordinances of the church! Let me close the picture.

Now, when I tell you, Clericus, my friend, that from the particular circumstances under which you see Maori character, you over estimate their moral and religious condition, and I advise you to disguise yourself, and spend a month among them, study their character in private when your influence as a missionary is removed. You tell me that you know Maoris far better than I do, that I am mistaken, or if you do admit a few of their irregularities, I am to look at home among the lower classes,

and after that, not to talk about Maoris being so depraved.

My kind sir, these little facts you tell one respecting St. Giles's, Ratcliffe Highway, or Houndsditch, are all strong exceptions, as in fact I may answer all your other arguments. In this sketch I am justified in saying from my own judgment, and the evidence of others more capable of judging than I am, that I am shewing you the rule and not the exception.

Either you know the truth of these things, and will not admit it, or you are in a melancholy state of ignorance respecting the moral state of your flock. If you are the first, you are wilfully deceiving; if the latter, you are in such a state of moral blindness as to render you unfit for the office you hold.

When you tell me, through your friends, the clerical Boanerges, who declaim from English platforms, that what evils there exist amongst the Maoris are mainly introduced by me (I speak as one of the laity), I tell you plainly I do not like it. But when you get those mouth-pieces of yours to blaze forth the moral purity of these same Maoris, you wilfully, or ignorantly (I do not say which), make those enthusiastic gentlemen repeat statements that I will not characterise. I admit the melancholy state of the lower classes of England; it is a fact that no one attempts to deny, and a vast amount of charitable

aid is extended to assist in their evangelisation. I, however, do not think them worse than Maoris in the aggregate, and I never heard of the Bishop of London preaching in the open air to these unfortunate mortals, and administering to them the sacrament promiscuously. I say, I admit the bad state of my miserable countrymen, and am so far consistent – whereas you will not do so for the Maoris, but continue sending home reports of my evil influence on them, and their happy moral condition; maligning me thereby, and deceiving my old friend, Mrs. Grundy, with either isolated cases, things you are duped into believing, or fictions. My dear Clericus, this sort of thing will not do. You are losing caste fast among your European flock, and I fear among your Maori also. They are shutting their toll-gates against ministers, and "bailing up" bishops. They are a bad lot, my dear friend, let us stand by each other in their amelioration – "They are (as the Scotchman said when he persisted in occupying the pulpit with the minister) a faithless and perverse generation, and it will tak' us baith to manage 'em."

HOATU NOATU.

HOATU NOATU.

IF the witness in Thurtell's case be an authority, Jeremiah is now a gentleman to all intents and purposes. He keeps a gig! The Governor, according to Jeremiah's own account, has presented him with the vehicle as a token of esteem for his loyalty and fidelity for the last twenty years. May the tutelary deities that preside over the destinies of dumb animals protect the unfortunate beast that is fated to draw it!

Such an act of generosity on the part of his excellency has had the effect of setting all the begging letter writers agog, and Parnapa has had a benefit of correspondence during the last few months. I do not know what Jeremiah's people have not written for – ploughs, gigs, carts, and implements innumerable, and now they are racking their brains to discover something else, by way of novelty. As yet all they have got has been the gig to Jeremiah, which I am rather glad (being a friend of his) that he has got, because he is a melancholy horseman,

and his legs are now dwindled away to mere spindles. Those who do not like him, likewise rejoice, because they feel satisfied that he will get his neck broken out of it. Therefore we might lay it down that, all things considered, the gift of a gig is a good stroke of policy.

But there are one or two points in which the matter may be taken that do not make it so pleasant to contemplate it in.

The system of "hoatu noatu," or "free gift," has another name which sounds a trifle grating in the ears of the colonists; it is known as the "sugar and blanket" system, and the policy of it is not only rather questionable, but the effect somewhat pernicious.

Jeremiah thinks (like many more of his creed) that he is paid to keep the peace, and as he never gave anything in his life that he did not expect an equivalent for, unless it was a crack on the head, or an attack of influenza, he accepts the gig as a species of bribe, and on this account it is to be regretted that he has got it.

Malachi, who receives the munificent sum of £20 per annum as the salary of an assessor, informs me that a neighbor of his gets £40 (which, by the way, I do not believe), and unless the Governor raises his stipend, he shall resign and join the rebels.

It is a great pity that he should think of depriving the country of his services for the paltry consideration of a couple of £10 notes, for he is a man of great acumen! He advises malefactors towards Europeans, who do not wish to cool their heels in gaol, to join the rebels where they will be unmolested (more's the pity!), and at the same time recommends the evil doers in the ranks of King Matutaere to renounce the sovereignty and join the Governor.

I shall be very sorry if Malachi resigns. As for Jeremiah and he, they are already at loggerheads respecting some point of law, and make a practice of reversing each other's decisions in their respective courts. I see nothing for it but that Malachi must have a gig too. Perhaps the Colonial Secretary will kindly accept this suggestion!

It is not long ago since Jeremiah and all his people attended a great runanga and met the Governor, and a great weeping and wailing they kicked up on that occasion. It was then and there that Jeremiah dived his hand into his trowsers pocket and fished up half a crown, which he graciously presented to the Governor towards paying his expenses of a journey of some one hundred and fifty miles! Jeremiah was requested by his excellency to keep his two and sixpence, and shortly afterwards got the promise of the gig.

His friends and relatives who came forward with similar donations, presented his excellency with a letter a piece, of a stereotyped character, terming him their father, declaring their love for him, her Majesty, and the European community at large, continuing with a verse of scripture, having nothing at all to do with the case in point, and winding up with a request for some article or other, which we may sum up in the trite phrase – "sugar and blankets."

One gentleman (occasionally given to liquor – but that's a trifle!) wound up a very eloquent speech of a "two and two make four" kind of character, with the request that his excellency would explain to him the text – "Heaven is my throne and earth is my footstool."

Whether the Governor has usurped the functions of a clergyman and favored him with a sermon, or has made out what line of conduct he has been expected to pursue in terms of the passage in question, I have not yet learnt.

Jeremiah himself favored us with a specimen of his hoatu noatu on this occasion of a very singular kind. He presented a government official with a mat and a pig, as a token of respect for that functionary. The little fact, however, of the party having paid Jeremiah for his mat, and the pig

having been previously sold to a butcher before the affair came off, appears not to have been reported in the journals of the day. Jeremiah there appears as a very generous old fellow, and forbid it that I should say he was anything else! but I cannot forbear mentioning some trifling incidents connected with this gift of his that were not generally known.

It appears to me that the parable of the prodigal son is ever before the eyes of the Governor, and he determines that although he perpetually fees the waverers to keep them in the paths of loyalty, still that Jeremiah, who has always professed his loyalty and fidelity, shall never have occasion to say that "no fatted calf was given him." "Loaves and fishes" are knocking about just now, and who shall blame our old friend for going in for a fair share?

It was not long ago since I asked Jeremiah respecting an old friend of his, who lives in the interior, and acts the part of a quiet highwayman, by cheating and robbing every unfortunate European traveller who may pass his way, who has now joined the King movement.

Jeremiah regretted the tergiversation of his friend, but blamed the Governor for not having offered him sixty pounds a year as an assessor. Jeremiah further informed me "that he thought he might

be brought back into the fold of the Governor for forty!"

This same old rascal appears at present to be about to follow the advice of Mr. Weller, sen., and "rewenge hisself on mankind by keeping a 'pike,'" for he sends us in a cool letter stating that he has erected a toll-gate across the road passing his door. What we are to pay for passing, I really do not know, and so long as I have anything in my pocket worth stealing, I am not likely to go and discover!

Jeremiah offered some time ago to take me that way en route for the interior, making use of an expression, similar to what a Brazilian gentleman is reported to have used when he introduced an acquaintance – "this is my friend; if he steals anything, I am accountable!" But until this old sinner gets a gig too, I shall not go his way.

These are the sort of gentry that Jeremiah inveighs against for not being more moderate in their demands and serving the Governor. But for fancy's sake, let the "pike-keeper" get his full demand, and where would Jeremiah be, pray? Why, his resignation as an assessor would go in the next day, accompanied with a polite intimation that he required an advance; a deputation would at once set off to the Court of King Matutaere, and

my excellent old friend would hoist the King flag, and gorge himself with victuals at a great feast in its honor.

Of a truth, M. de Lamalle, you need not ask us to go and hunt for that lusus naturae, a long-eared race of men, among the Copts of Egypt, if you are in existence this day, come over here my, friend! and let us hear you opinion respecting a portion of the inhabitants of these islands, who talk to us of Maori loyalty, who believe in the professions of my old friend, and amusing old humbug, Jeremiah. How is it to be expected that the sympathies of him and his people can run in any other channel than the current of opinion of his own nation?

Governor! this hoatu noatu of yours must come to an end some day, unless your purse is longer than I take it to be.

So much has been done to keep the leading Natives out of the ranks of the Maori King, that they have already began to believe that there is some virtue in joining, from the simple fact that you are doing all you can to keep them out. They are suspicious of you, and because you protest against their political movements, they now believe the more in them. Are you going to pay any more, pray, to stave what is inevitably coming – their own utter destruction? You have cajoled, nattered,

bullied, bribed, and threatened – what are you going to do next?

A very excellent institution (unfortunately now empty) exists in the district of Taranaki, it is known as the "Grey Folly" in honor of you. This was your hoatu noatu to the tribes in that vicinity, including that incomparable body of ragamuffins, the Ngatiruanuis; a steamer lies stranded on their coast, they have robbed it and refuse to give up the wreck. I will not ask you to beg them to give up the steamer, but do you think that you can favor us with a specimen of their hoatu noatu, and prevail on them to give up the stolen mail bag?

In every barbarous nation that we have attempted to civilise, we have invariably had more or less some generous impulse existing in their character on which to work. Here, Native character is utterly destitute of any virtue approaching thereto. Generous actions are not reckoned in their category, and of a truth with them, the generous man is a nickname for a fool. They do not say with Virgil and the late Colonel Sibthorn –

"Timeo Danaos, et dona ferentes – " They do not "fear receiving gifts" – or the "Greek" who brings them, I regret to say, but when we look for any return, be it barely sincere good will, we have to bear for all our generosity – insult, chagrin, and disappointment.

It is no pleasure for me to write this, Governor! you have your own trials to bear in saving this race from the ruin into which they will hurry themselves in spite of you; and as you term yourself, in all your letters to them, their father, I will not add one more pang to that bitter reflection that by this time you must have experienced.

"How sharper than a serpent's tooth
It is to have a thankless child."

MAKUTU.

MAKUTU.

IN a copy of a very old book, originally published at Newcastle, which proposed to give some of the receipts of the noble science of witchcraft, as practised on the Borders among a lot of these receipts, the concoction and ingredients of which make the witches' cauldron in Macbeth appear a pleasant sort of soup, I found the following: – "To see strange sights, anoint your eyes with the gall of a bat and the fat of a hen." Without killing either bats or hens for this said purpose, I have seen some strange sights in this country. I have seen the British flag as it floats over these shores, instead of tough bunting, turn out to be sorry fustian, blown all to ribbons in the gale of rebellion; I have seen English law and order set at defiance by a pack of semi-barbarians; military men with a couple of thousand British bayonets at their disposal, bearded by a handful of half-naked savages armed with old muskets and fowling-pieces; and property destroyed by a band of half-armed Natives, under the nose of a garrison. The bats and fowls may go to hades

before I slaughter them for the purpose of "seeing strange sights." Some of the strange sights I have seen, I have already chronicled in these sketches, and one of the strangest I now proceed to describe: the noble science of makutu (witchcraft) as practised by the inhabitants of "Our Pah."

Whether owing to bad sanitary regulations, personal uncleanliness, overeating, or the third plague of Egypt, I do not know; but many of the inhabitants were "taken worse" some time ago. One or two of the children died, old Lazarus was laid up, and so many complaining that things began to look rather serious about there. A very offensive tattooed party, whose name I did not enquire, so will here term him Beelzebub (as being most appropriate to his calling), was sent for, he being a poropiti (prophet) of the mysteries of makutu, who at once gave it as his opinion that lizards were at the bottom of the mischief; the tapu on some land had been broken, and suggested the expediency of a "kai ngarara" forthwith.

Except to a person well up in Maori, it is not an easy matter to make out how the lizards are to blame for these evils; but so far as I can understand, it appears that when old Maoris die, their shades haunt certain places in the form of lizards; and that parties walking over the spot where these lizards

dwell, are forthwith bewitched. If the lizards are caught and killed, the enchantment is at an end, and no fear of any further mischief. This, very likely, is a very vague and unsatisfactory explanation, but no matter for that, makutu exists as an institution, its practice is on the increase, and that is sufficient for me at present.

Some days after receiving the intelligence of the arrival of the poropiti, I was out near the pah, when I suddenly came upon a group of individuals promenading in a circle, apparently engaged in search of something, and arranged so that if the first man missed it, the next being close on his heels, might have a chance of finding it. It was Beelzebub, Malachi, and a number of his people at work lizard hunting. If lizards are vermin, and their object was simply to get rid of them, I have heard of a simpler plan than this I am about to describe, which, while I remember, I may as well quote:

Och? Antrim hill is very high, and so is the hill of Howth too,
But I've heard of another hill, that's higher than them both too;
'Twas on the top of this high hill, St. Patrick preached his sarmint.
He drove the frogs into the bogs, and banished all the varmint.

But St. Patrick was a saint, whereas Beelzebub is exactly the reverse, hence their systems differ. But to my tale.

The circular promenade continued for some time, when suddenly they came to a dead stop, and Beelzebub pounced like a torn cat on something in the fern! This was unfortunate lizard number one. The procession continued, gradually contracting the limits of the circle, and by the time they had finished Beelzebub had caught two more. All this time the greatest solemnity was observed. The poropiti then kindled a fire, and proceeded with the greatest coolness to roast these wretched reptiles; repeating in a low moaning tone an incantation, as the poor lizards were slowly frizzling. The burden of this incantation I did not then know, but have since seen a translation of it. I can not remember the exact words, but I can give a quotation from an American poet that will give the reader a fair idea of its import. The passage occurs in a chorus to one of the songs of the Christy Minstrels, and runs as follows:

"Flip up in the scidamadinck jube up in the jubin jube!"

The lizards nearly calcined; the poropiti sung out something, and the whole crowd at once covered their faces and dropped into the attitude of prayer; and I was subsequently led to understand, that at this identical juncture, the souls of the departed vacated the bodies of the lizards (as well they might).

Whether they became stars in the firmament, or entered the bodies of other lizards, I did not enquire. Beelzebub swore hard and fast "that he saw them go;" so I suppose they did. Anyhow, the "tapu" was gone, and no one going over that spot would catch the lumbago, colic, or any other disease. And, so far the arrangement was satisfactory.

After this, the poropiti produced some potatoes, which he proceeded to roast in the ashes, and, during the process of cookery, some sort of a hymn was sung, or rather chanted, the name of which I did not learn; but the words sounded (sinking the final) something like the chorus of frogs in the Rana? of Aristophanes. "Brekkekkikex! Koax! Koax!"

The above very senseless mummery was enacted by the most enlightened aborigines in the world, in the year of grace, 1862, in the forty-seventh of the introduction of Christianity among them, and close to a mission station.

If this had been an isolated case, I do not know that I should have written anything about it; but as makutu happens to be in full force all over the country at present, and is by no means confined to the "old people," rather the reverse in fact, it is worth "making a note of," as Captain Cuttle would say.

Beelzebub shortly after tried his hand at curing a sick man, not by electro-magnetism but by makutu.

I had the curiosity to have some conversation with him on the subject. I found him to be excessively stupid, but he had such a lot of nostrums for healing the sick, causing ladies favorable accouchements, and banishing evils generally, that the disciples of Reichenbach, and Odic Force, may in future shut up – Beelzebub beats them hollow.

In the course of conversation, I asked him if he was a Christian, and believed in the Bible? which he said "he did." I asked him if he was not afraid of being punished for idolatry, as the Israelites were? He replied, "that I could not possibly understand the Maori Gods – my God was a very good God, but Maori Gods were very mauahara (revengeful), and that unless he looked out and appeased them, the Maoris would suffer – it was a system far beyond my comprehension." I did not bandy any further remarks with him.

A few days later, he commenced his makutu on old Lazarus.

This very wretched old man had got the idea into his head that some lizard was in his inside, and preying on his vitals; Beelzebub said it was the case likewise, so that between them, it must have

been so. Anyway, the lizard had to be got out, or whatever it was.

Lazarus had been shifted about from to place place for many months, never stopping above a week or two at one spot, and wherever he went, the lizard would persist in following him, at least so said Malachi.

I am not naturalist enough to know what lizards feed on exactly, but if they are partial to fleas and other vermin, I can understand their following old Lazarus.

I happened to drop in upon him when the makutu was going on.

Beelzebub sat alongside him, muttering away and fumbling with two pieces of stick, while three or four women sat at some distance away from him, "tangi-ing" sotto voce.

It was a particularly solemn sight; a trifle stupid perhaps, but that was nothing! They had read the church prayers over him in the morning, and now they were doing a little makutu.

Beelzebub said something about "sacrificing a dog to Emaru, if Lazarus got no better," being about the only sensible idea that I heard from him; for Lazarus owns a vile cur, that it would be a good riddance if he were annihilated. Anyway, the devil, or ngarara, or whatever it was, was ultimately got

out of Lazarus – Beelzebub saw it go like a blue flame, at least so he said, and in three months Lazarus was to be himself again.

This was capital news for the old man, and he gave himself an extra scratching on the strength of it. It is now six weeks since the makutu took place, and if anything, Lazarus is rather worse. He got much better for a week, according to his own account, from the effect of Beelzebub's incantation; but this temporary recovery, I attribute to a good dose of Epsom salts that I gave him, and if he used a little soap and water, and left off eating putrid corn and other filth, I see no reason why there is not "life in the old dog yet."

This intensely insane system has been carried on throughout the country at a great rate during the past year. Strange effects have been produced by the poropitis and arikis of the temple of makutu. Peccant Magdalenes have divulged their liasions; lovers, the names of their divulged inamoratas; thieves given up stolen property, or been terrified into it; and no end of diseases cured. What does it all mean?

If I ask Clericus, he is down on me with every parallel instance he can gather, from the Israelites and the golden calf to the worship of idols by the early Christians. He travels the wide world through,

civilised and savage, and points out so much idolatry and superstition existing, that makutu sinks into insignificance. This of course is very well, so far as it goes, and I may as well state here that I am glad to find Clericus setting manfully to work to root out makutu. He falls foul of, and routs, old Beelzebub and his gang, wherever he can catch them at their makutu, or lizard hunts; and he will not admit any of them to his sacraments when he finds them out. So far, I applaud him; but I object to his arguments altogether.

I do not believe in his comparisons between Maoris and civilised nations. He has no more right to compare them with those nations as a community, than he has to compare gipsies and the scum of Christendom with the English Bench of Bishops. He may talk, indeed, of foolish old women hanging horse-shoes to their doors, crossing knives in a thunderstorm, or believing in all sorts of messages from the other world by coals flying out of the grate, howling dogs, the dregs of a tea-cup, or flaring candlewicks; but because he finds so many foolish old women in a community – is that any reason why the whole nation is to be dabbed superstitious or benighted? If darkness spiritual appears in the agricultural districts of England, or in the purlieus of English and continental towns, have the inhabitants

had the same spiritual advantages as the Maoris? I rather doubt it. Has the old religion of the makutu been eradicated, or is it only slumbering? In a word, are the religious opinions of the Maoris permanent, or do they possess any?

We look with dismay at the Jesuit Missions and the system they adopted, where four or five thousand Indians were baptised, a small crucifix suspended from their necks, thereupon termed Christians, and enrolled among the list of proselytes. This was a very melancholy and queer kind of evangelisation. When Mrs. Grundy read it in a missionary magazine she was shocked, and when an honest grocer at Peckham, with whom she deals, who is the minister of the chapel of Little Bethel, next door to Mrs. G's., read it in the number she lent him, and forthwith told it from the pulpit, there arose such a groaning among the congregation (they can groan – the Little Bethel folks can) that it was dismal to hear. Yet the question is, are the Maoris any better than these Indians? Is not civilisation turning out Christianity?

An obscure minister of the church (of whom nobody has heard of course) stated at the commencement of the N. Z. Mission, that "civilisation must be the pioneer of Christianity" [vide "Life of the Rev. S. Marsden," p. 56 – peruse that book, reader!).

Have subsequent events proved him right? – Are the Maoris, who in anything move by fits and starts, relapsing into their old religion?

I know that the worship of Rongo (the god of crops) has been restored to the northward, and only a short time ago a tribe had it under consideration whether they should not renounce Christianity altogether.

These things look rather queer! In the midst of all these unpleasantries, however, it is a source of satisfaction not to have heard as yet that the settlers are the cause of this. This makutu is one of the very few evils that they have not introduced (that is to say according to Clericus).

We have not introduced makutu! What a gratifying reflection! So much so that I can lay down my pen, and take leave of this subject with a conscience clear upon the point that I have had nothing to do with it.

Makutu and cannibalism appear to be the only two I am not blamed for (though I encouraged the latter by buying dried heads for my museum) – I have been a horrid wretch to these Maoris and no mistake!

But I am clear upon one charge – I did not import makutu! What a blessing!!

WHAKAAKONA.

WHAKAAKONA.

WHAKAAKONA (the art of teaching), scil.: Education.

This word comes into my mind in consequence of old Jeremiah having handed me lately a long document, purporting to be a letter from him and his tribe to the Governor, respecting the appointment of a school-master in his district. It covers three sides of foolscap, and is endorsed with a number of strange looking marks, as if a hen had dipped its claws in the ink-bottle and scraped over it, which hieroglyphics stand for the signatures of himself and people. I hope the Governor can read them.

Jeremiah asked me to sign it. If I thought such a step would be of any benefit, or that the school would be ever supported, if they got a school-master, I would not hesitate; but as my belief is that Jeremiah and his people do not care a rap about education, I decline, and the reasons I have for forming this opinion I now proceed to give.

Some years ago, Smith, Tomkins, and myself made a pilgrimage up the country, and finding our-

selves late one afternoon in the vicinity of a clerical acquaintance, who was rural dean of that part of the diocese, we thought we would look in there for the evening, having heard a great deal respecting his school, and having a faint idea of having seen a representation of it in a panorama in London. We accordingly made our way there.

The road to the parsonage lay through the pah, which it is needless to say much about, as it did not materially differ from any other pah, save in being smothered in docks, which we were led to understand had many years ago been sedulously cultivated by the Natives, under the delusion that they were growing tobacco. A disgusting smell pervaded the atmosphere, emitted from the corpses of defunct sharks, they were gibbetted on scaffolds, for the purpose of being sun-dried and cured, and so tainted the air that we ran a perfect gauntlet of stenches ere we arrived at the door of the parsonage.

Our friend, the rural dean, was not in, but as he is something of a pastoral turn of mind, in both senses of the word, he at that time was witnessing the branding of his calves, and we shortly after found him perched on the top of a stock yard post, note-book in hand, jotting down their description. Two or three Native athletes, in excessively airy habiliments, were hauling up the calves to a post

and branding them according to the directions of their pastor.

It appeared that this was a farm nominally conducted for their benefit; how far it answered I do not know; nobody can ever get hold of the books; but doubtless the bishop knew, and who else, I should like to know, had any business with it? Some inquisitive commissioners once paid the rural dean a visit, with a view of investigating the matter, and reporting thereon; but the rural dean sent them off with a flea in their ear! and served them right, I say.

Well! we were not commissioners, so we at once paid our respects to the reverend gentleman, stating that we had come to see his celebrated school that we had heard so much of.

At this announcement, a transient spasm shot across the face of his reverence, but whether it was owing to our mentioning the school, or because one of the calves had been all but choked with the rope, I cannot exactly say, the probability being that it was the latter. He was a humane man was the rural dean.

A bell shortly afterwards commenced "jowing" forth from an adjacent building, and the rural dean thereupon informed us that he was about to perform evening prayers, and suggested the propriety of our attending the service forthwith.

I do not exactly know what the duties of a rural dean are, but it strikes me that part of their duty extends to looking after the repairs of chapels, and if so, I must admit there seemed room for the devotion of part of the energies of his reverence being extended towards his own. The windows either never had been totally glazed, or they had been sadly broken. The general appearance indeed of the exterior of the building was mildewy in the extreme.

The interior, however, was something better; the totara posts that formed the studs were deeply carved, and inlaid with pawa shells, the panels between being composed of the reeds of the toitoi, ingeniously stained with all sorts of colors. There were no pews, the congregation, I presume, squatting on the floor, which was neatly covered with matting; a few forms were placed at one end, I imagine for the minister's family and friends (as we occupied them), and singular to say there was no pulpit, but the rural dean read the service from a table at one end of the building. The aspect in fact was rather dreary.

The congregation seemed to be very limited, as with the exception of ourselves and the young gladiators of the stockyard, there were not half a dozen people in it.

I cannot say much respecting the service, as the fleas tormented me so (the place seemed infested with them) that I was in agony; and the strong smell of burnt hair, emitted from the gladiators who had branded the calves, did not render matters more pleasant. Fleas and the smell of burnt hair in fact always, remind me, to this day, of the rural dean and his chapel. The service finished, we accompanied his reverence over the farm, and upon our return he apologised for not being able to accommodate us for the night, as some members of his family were indisposed. (Tomkins say he has since found out they always are so, when visitors come that way.) We were therefore handed over to the hospitality of the gladiators, with whom and the fleas and mosquitoes we passed the night.

From their direction, on the following morning, we made out a cramped little weather boarded shed, slightly inferior to the rural dean's calf-house, and were informed that "that was the school."

We paused as we entered, and crowded round a mild easy going sort of a looking man in spectacles, and ten small children in whom he was endeavouring to instil the alphabet – this was the school. The mild man stepped forward to meet us, and we boldly opened on him a battery of questions, and to condense matters, received the following intelligence in

his replies. The district, for the benefit of which this school was established, contained a population of about six hundred, one fourth of which might be put down as children capable of receiving instruction. The attendance that day was about the average.

He accounted for this lax attendance most sensibly, and I have heard the same tale in scores of places since. "The Natives were indifferent about education, they had no control over their children, and if the slightest discipline was exercised in the school, the scholars left. In general, the highest degree of education that any arrived at was a smattering of reading and writing, and a trifle of arithmetic. Upon receiving which instruction, they considered that they had learnt enough, and left the school. Native parents residing at a distance generally refused to send their children, unless they accompanied them to the village, and then seemed to consider that the fact of their permitting their children to be taught, put all the obligation on their side."

The pedagogue rather shirked the idea of our questioning the children, evidently mistrusting us as some "spies in his land;" but Tomkins, who labors under the common delusion that it is only necessary to set all cases, moods, tenses, and syntax at defiance, and talk the most broken English you can, and

aborigines of every country are sure to understand you, put thereupon some strange question to one of the children, which failed to draw forth any reply, save a stare of intense astonishment.

Smith, who had been some time in China, and was a "dab" at "Canton English," which peculiar language consists in being able to ring all the changes on the words "savey," "comprador," "number one," and the everlasting "pigeon," then tried his hand, and the little wretch set up a hideous squalling, being half-frightened out of his wits by such a lingo.

The domine here came to the rescue, and drowned the crying by favoring us with a chorus, the burden whereof was –

"Twi wonna too
"Twi too ah po-ah
"Twi tee ah tikit"

(I write as. it was pronounced), of which ditty Tomkins was donkey enough to ask the meaning. They were singing the multiplication table in English! We felt relieved by the explanation.

We further discovered that the Maoris can pronounce but little more than half the letters in our alphabet.

We asked if English was taught at that school? "No, that was the industrial method." We have

since made some enquiries respecting those institutions, but they have not had any scholars for some years.

If we were to be allowed to form an opinion of this school from what we saw, we should put it down as a mistake. The school-master seemed to us to have been selected upon the colonial creed, that a man unfit for anything else will do for a teacher.

The attendance at this school, the last time I heard of it, had dwindled down to four.

Some others that were in existence at that time are now shut up.

Now the question is, what is to be done with the rising generation of Maoris? If their parents will not educate them, what sort of senators are the young "Nobility" to be, that my honorable friend, the member for Noodletown (of whom more anon), hopes to see in the Colonial Parliament! Are we to look for any great things from a nation adopting our language, who cannot pronounce half the letters in it? or look for any amount of political sagacity from a race utterly destitute of any foresight, or notions of economy? If we have any respect for them or ourselves, can we introduce them into our assemblies, for which by manners and education they are so utterly unfitted?

How have our schemes of education answered so far? Those we have partially educated do not appear (as we expected) to have any notion, and I fear little desire, to impart it to the rest. They are too conceited and vain of their own accomplishments for that, and those who are the exception are too indolent.

The tribe that have received probably the greatest educational advantages (I need hardly say I allude to the Ngatiruanuis) are the greatest rascals in the Island.

The old saying, "Ingenuas didicisse," etc, seems a dead letter here at any rate. Surely there is "something rotten in the state of Denmark." Would it not be as well to ask ourselves, whether we have not already done too much? Made religious and educational advantages too cheap, and now have the regret to see them spurned as worthless, or nearly so.

The Native question loses none of its intricacy when we consider the state of education, present and prospective.

But is there no OEdipus to solve the riddle? No Alexander to cut this gordian knot? Certainly there is. Hear him!

OEdipus is the member for Noodletown; he has been a resident in this colony for twenty years; has

amassed a vast amount of property, and spends his existence in a colonial city; but upon the strength of a visit to Taupo, in company with a bishop, on which occasion he signalised himself by narrowly escaping being boiled in a hot spring, and returned home desperately bitten with fleas, he has set up as an authority on Native affairs ever since. He solves the riddle of the Native question with greater ease than his prototype did that of the sphynx. This is the solution – "Amalgamate the races."

OEdipus, my friend! you have hit it. A great idea, my worthy sir. Amalgamate the races, and educate the offspring. The half-caste race at present, you say, are not as a body to be taken as examples, because, in many cases, their parents were not a very eligible sort.

You are a moral man, OEdipus, and I know would be horrified if I were to ask you if to accomplish this end you desired us to turn semi-mohammedans at once. "Morality shudders at the idea," you say. Be it so. How are you to do it then? By intermarriage of the races, I presume. Just so, and thank you.

Now, OEdipus, my philanthropic sir, I believe that most folks have, in one shape or other, some prospective ideas before they marry of what is known as connubial bliss. Perhaps you had when

you married Mrs. OE. You based your hopes of obtaining it on reciprocal affection, mutual confidence, and sympathy of feeling and idea. I will go a step further. You will admit that unless a man has these ideas, he had better remain in single blessedness.

Now if you from your Taupo, or any other experience, will point out a few Native females from an alliance with whom any amount of matrimonial felicity can with any show of reason be expected, pledging yourself that those individuals who may, on your recommendation, marry them forthwith shall not forfeit their position in society here or at home, that you will admit them to your drawing rooms, introduce their wives to your daughters, and guarantee that the husband's feelings shall never be hurt by any slight towards his wife; then some of the respectable bachelors of this Island may be philanthropic enough to give your scheme a trial.

If you had not a constitutional tendency of blood to the head, which I imagine you have from your parliamentary speeches, I might be tempted to ask you to commence the system by giving the happiness of your daughters to the care of a Maori; but as I know such a suggestion from me might throw you into an apoplectic fit, and your shade might haunt

me in consequence, I shall not do so, but content myself with thanking you for your kind feeling towards me.

It is a well-known fact amongst those who employ Native youths, that so long as they are within range of the influence of their friends and relations, they are of no use whatever. The slightest coercion, or discipline, they will not submit to. Education a few years back was a mania at a premium, now it is at a lamentable discount.

A man who hopes to educate his half-caste children with any idea of respect for their intellectual welfare or moral training, must either doom his wife to perpetual banishment from her own people, or separate the children from the mother.

If the happiness of any of the parties can be obtained by such a domestic arrangement, I have done at once; but I may tell Oedipus that by recommending his fellow settlers and constituency to adopt such a domestic union, for the sake of making a philanthropic experiment for his satisfaction, he pays them a compliment that few will thank him for.

VALEDICTORY.

VALEDICTORY.

FAREWELL, Jeremiah! You and I must at last part company, as the best of friends have had to do, at some period of their lives, from time immemorial.

Your excellent friends, the pseudo philanthropists (from whose kind offices heaven protect you!), are down upon me, and I bring my sketches to a close.

Three years ago you were in the same state I knew you ten years ago, a dirty, contented old man, occupying yourself with your field operations, growing pork, and passing an easy contented sort of life free from care and anxiety; your people lived about you in quietness and peace, attending chapel night and morning, and leading a humdrum sort of existence, if no benefit to society at large, at least no particular nuisance.

But a change has come o'er the spirit of your dream. They have made you a magistrate; you have been seized with a desire to try a little self-government. The runanga system has been adopted.

You have been led to imagine that you are capable of great things, and your original social, moral, and political condition has undergone a complete revolution. You have mounted the rostrum and have commenced a perfect lustration. By your attempts at reform you have managed to set the whole of your people by the ears; you have embroiled yourself with the neighboring tribes, and you have done as much to send half your people over to the rebels by your meddlesome interference, as any act the government has done. Your potato fields are neglected, your chapel is all but deserted, and a state of perfect anarchy and confusion exists amongst you as a community.

In fact, your mind is off the balance, and how it is to be restored, so long as your inordinate conceit is encouraged, I really do not know.

You have had a law given you to administer and no means to enforce it.

If law and order were simply required, your ancient system of despotism, existing amongst and practised by your chiefs, bad as it may have been, compares most favorably with your present state of self-government, and I do not know whether, all things considered, you were not more easily managed in those days, when one voice carried the day, than you are now.

However, I will not parley any more with you, Jeremiah! I say, good-bye! I wish you all manner of good, but I fear it is only to be instilled into you by correction. Your best friends will be they that give you a good chastising.

Unless you are taught to obey law, you will never respect it; and any obedience that can be ever expected from you, must be based on the principle that "might is right," you have never known any other rule, nor have any other race of savages before you. Your utter lack of any ideas of gratitude makes kindness thrown away on you; and the manner in which you have been flattered and bolstered up of late has risen your self-conceit to such a pitch as to blind you to your own self-interest, always provided you have sagacity and foresight to see it.

And now with regard to these sketches en masse. I have endeavored in as amusing a manner as possible, to pourtray some scenes illustrative of the social, moral, and political condition of these Natives. However far I may have failed in graphic delineation of the various scenes, or in soundness of view that I have deduced from them, I have the comforting reflection that "I have set down nought in malice," and avoided exaggeration. Where I have considered a radical evil existed, I have not scrupled to attack it.

Small as colonial communities usually are, I can hardly be surprised that in many cases I have met with the charge of personality. Had these papers merely passed through the local press, I should not have troubled myself to have taken any notice of the accusation; but as they have been so favorably received in other portions of the colony, and in other journals, I think it necessary to rebut the charge by remarking tersely that there is not (with the exception of the paper, "Parnapa") a single real character depicted. Jeremiah, Malachi, Ezekiel, and company, may be found in almost every pah from Porirua to Kororarika, and Clericus and the rural dean flourish in every Native settlement of any standing on the missionary records. The whole are merely taken as types of a class, and I can only regret that they are not the most unfavorable that I might have selected.

The various scenes themselves have no essential originality – they are but one picture drawn from the recollection of the sight of many, purged of a vast quantity of offensive features that might have been most truthfully copied.

Nothing is more simple than to make a charge of exaggeration, and it is possible that the perusal of these papers, by some who consider themselves tolerably well acquainted with the Native race, may

occasion the remark that some of them are over-drawn.

Now, I would ask any one acquainted with the ordinary run of English literature, to recall the excitement that was produced in London some years ago when Mr. Mayhew's "London Labor and the London Poor" appeared in the Morning Chronicle. Many a clergyman and medical man, who thought themselves tolerably well acquainted with the condition of the lower orders, was somewhat staggered to pick up the intelligence respecting a community they were constantly moving amongst, of whose real condition they themselves were perfectly ignorant.

And why? Because that gentleman threw himself amongst the people he was enquiring about as one of themselves, they were thrown off their guard altogether, and information was gleaned from them, that the minister and doctor might have sought in vain to obtain.

And so it is in considering the Maori character, it is not necessary to identify oneself so entirely with them as to turn Maori complete to gain the knowledge required. But were I to require information respecting the Native character, habits, or condition, the missionary or government official would be the very last I would ask upon the subject.

Ministerial visits, whether clerical or lay, are, so

far as Natives are concerned, purely official affairs. Their advent is telegraphed from stage to stage, and the role of the proceedings is carefully rehearsed. The whole concern is, on the part of the Natives, one piece of acting from beginning to end. No wonder then that these gentlemen after a tour through the Island, form some strange opinions respecting the state of the Maoris, and no wonder that those who are thrown constantly into contact with the Natives in everyday life, should protest loudly against the condition of the aborigines of these Islands as pourtrayed on English platforms, and on the floor of the Colonial Parliament.

If the matter simply rested here it would be one thing; every man is perfectly at liberty to express his views upon any subject, provided he has common sense or reason to base them on.

Reverend and honorable gentlemen conscientiously believe what they say, I would not breathe a doubt on the matter for one moment; but, unfortunately, their views transmitted to Europe, whether privately or publicly, do not lose by travelling, and dressed up and re-produced in English assemblies, they furnish the foundation of an argument the most false and iniquitous.

Accusing the settlers of this colony who have cheerfully borne taxes, and paid them, independent

of contributing private subscriptions towards all sorts of institutions for the benefit of the Native race; who have patiently and calmly submitted to an amount of insult, annoyance, and provocation, which no body of Anglo-Saxons, within the memory of man, ever submitted to before – I say, accusing them of a policy of extortion and aggrandisement.

To show how far such a course of conduct has proved so deleterious to the interests of the colony, by the prejudicial effect it has had on the Imperial Government, is not my province here; but while we look with mingled feelings of disgust and dismay at the wretched system of bungling and mismanagement that has marked the Imperial policy towards this colony for so many years, we cannot but attribute a vast amount of error that the authorities have fallen into, to the mischievous influence that has been exercised upon them by that well meaning but excessively misguided class of individuals, known in the colonies as the "missionary party." Though it is due to the missionary body themselves to say that a considerable number, especially of the Roman Catholic and Nonconformist Missions, have never identified themselves in any way with the course of conduct a considerable section of their party have thought fit to adopt.

As I was well aware that in the course of these

sketches I should have to pass some severe strictures upon the party I have here alluded to, I determined in the first instance to give them the benefit of the best case I could make out on their behalf, a piece of charity that neither I, nor any one else who may have occasion to differ from them publicly, in future years, are likely to receive an equivalent for at their hands; and further, I would here observe that there are many hard-working and intelligent clergymen who either are at present, or have, in one way or other, been connected with the missionary staff, who are as strongly opposed to the course of conduct adopted by their clerical brethren as I am.

To attempt to solve the difficulty of the Native question has not been my object. I have endeavoured to raise a solemn protest against that mistaken philanthropy, which has been the fruitful source of all the present evils. It has most signally failed hitherto, and it is to be regretted that the plans of Governors and Ministers are still thwarted to a great extent by it.

The Natives themselves are far less to blame than those who have stood forward as their champions. What antipathies there may exist between the respective races (which I dispute to the extent that is ordinarily stated) have been, to say the least, fomented by the action that the pseudo philanthropists

have taken in Native matters – utter lawlessness, rank insubordination, and pig-headed obstinacy are the prevailing points in the Native character at present – these, sooner or later, must cause a collision between the races, and the question is simply one of time.

"Divide and conquer" have hitherto been our tactics among savage nations, where our power has not been sufficient to make war en masse; here we have a decided front shown against us by the greater part of the aborigines; our allies during the late war have been found to be utterly faithless and untrustworthy as a body, and it is only to be hoped that if war cannot be averted, it may be so conducted as to form the last that the colony shall ever witness, and that we may remember that the shortest struggle generally is the most merciful.

But it behoves us, through taking a charitable view of the Native character, at least to take a just one. If we take them as men, let us treat them as men; if as children, by all means act towards them as such. Hitherto we have just mingled the two, and the consequences I need not dilate upon.

The law of nature that went forth marking the bounds of man's power, "hitherto shalt thou go and no farther," seems to have put its limits on the Maori; they are a declining race, whether

considered mentally or physically. A century hence must see them all but numbered with the past; heaven knows as a nation we have done all we could to avert such a catastrophe; and with this assurance we can look forward to giving an account of our stewardship before a tribunal where the actions of a nation shall be as closely scanned as those of individuals.

I therefore take leave of the public, thanking them kindly for the favorable notice these sketches have received from the colonial press, and trusting that if ever I again take up my pen to follow the subject, it may be in less troublous times and in a less troubled country.

PRINTED BY H. I. JONES & SON, WANGANUI, NEW ZEALAND.

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