210 Transactions. 



The grave of one of her great-grandfathers, who^flourished'during 

 the first half of the nineteenth century, and who had been buried 

 at one side of the plaza of the village, was opened and the child 

 laid within. The people were gathered together about 40 yards 

 from the grave. The burial party were, of course, all twpu. 

 When opening up the grave, one of them took out the skull of 

 the old warrior who lay therein and held it up to the view ol 

 his descendants, from whom arose a long moaning wail at the 

 sight. After the burial the tapu was taken off the burial party. 



That night all the visitors were called to assemble within 

 the meeting-house. On entering we saw that all the dead child's 

 possessions, except her ordinary wearing-apparel, had been col- 

 lected and displayed in the middle of the room. There were also 

 other articles, presented by her elders. The items comprised 

 beautiful feather cloaks ; greenstone — both worked and polished 

 ornaments, and blocks of the rough, unworked stone ; cloaks 

 and capes woven from dressed and dyed flax-fibre ; as also other 

 articles, together with £10 in money. All these things, as also 

 the horses on which the child had been carried on divers journeys, 

 were presented to the people with whom she had lived while at 

 Te Whaiti, those who had tended her during her illness, and 

 those who had brought her body back home. Farewell speeches 

 were made by the village people that night to our party, who 

 were to leave next morning, with many greetings to those who 

 had been kind to the child. 



When the sun climbed over the rugged front of Maunga- 

 pohatu next morn I lifted the back trail for the canon of Toi, 

 amid the farewell cries of the bush folk — " Haere. Haere ki a 

 Marewa." ("Farewell. Keturn to Marewa "). Although actually 

 leaving the child, yet to the Native mind her semblance and 

 personality were ever with me and at my camp. Looking back 

 from the summit of the range, before entering the forty-mile 

 forest, I saw the mother seated opposite to her child's grave 

 on the cliff-edge, and swiftly came back to me the words of Hopa 

 of Hamua : " Kua riro to tatou kura i toku ringa. Hai konei 

 ra E hine ! Hai konei. Hai konei. Hai konei. ("Our trea- 

 sure has now left my hands. Remain here, maid ! Farewell. 

 Farewell. Farewell." ) 



A remark omitted : In these days of the white man the 

 Maori prizes highly a photograph of a deceased relative. Hav- 

 ing a good many photographs of Tuhoe Natives in my camp, 

 people come and ask to see a photo, of some relative who has 

 passed away. This they will weep over for a while and then go 

 away apparently satisfied. A Native asked me to photograph 

 his dead daughter as she lay on the bier. When finished, I left 

 it with the parents at their home. They made no sign during 



