Mair. — The Early History of the Morioris. 157 



his right hand. He brushed it away repeatedly, but it persisted 

 in coming back, and the fact of it always settling on his right 

 hand denoted that it was not a mere coincidence. Accordingly 

 he addressed the fly, asking " Have you tidings of my lost 

 child ? " and the rango answered with a loud buzz. " Is she 

 dead ?" Another buzz. " Can you lead me to her ? " " Buzz, 

 buzz," said the fly. The old man arose and followed it far into 

 the forest till he came to a great pukatea-tree, in a hollow of which 

 lay poor Papa's body. Unable to obtain revenge, which was 

 ever sweet to the ancient Maori, he bethought himself of a very 

 renowned warrior who lived in a distant part of the country, 

 and thither he betook himself at once. Covering himself with 

 a " kakahu mamae " (a garment of pain), he sat motionless in 

 the warrior's courtyard for many weary hours to arouse the 

 sympathy of his host, till at last the people of the village, with 

 much ceremony, killed and partly cooked a scraggy dog, which 

 they placed uneviscerated, with the hair on and half-raw, before 

 their guest. Guessing that this apparent want of hospitality 

 was intended as a test of his fortitude, the old man partook of 

 the horrible food, and even made it appear as though he relished 

 the repast. The chief then took him on one side and asked 

 what his trouble was, saying, " You are a brave man, and your 

 cause must indeed be desperate when you can pass through 

 such an ordeal." When the chief was told the particulars of 

 Papa's murder, he informed the father that twice seventy men 

 would start that very night to avenge his wrongs. Tama-te- 

 kohuruhuru's tribe were suddenly attacked and almost exter- 

 minated, and forced to migrate, and eventually reached the 

 Chatham Islands, as related by Mr. Shand in his interesting 

 paper. 



These minute particulars, preserved through over forty genera- 

 tions, show how ancient traditions are handed down orally by 

 an unlettered people. 



The Story of a Dying Race. 



In the year 1852 the whole of the Moriori people assembled 

 at Te Awapatiki, and it was decided to commit to writing some 

 record of their past history, they evidently recognising they 

 were a doomed race. The paper I have the pleasure of reading 

 to you to-night is a literal and simple translation of the 

 account given by the oldest living Morioris gathered together 

 on that memorable occasion — namely, 15th to 29th July of 

 the year mentioned. 



