380 REPORT— 1891. 



stronghold. He found the place quite unprepared, all the men 

 •except the chief being away. Having ascertained from a 

 woman he met that the robber was asleep in a cave close by, 

 he quietly approached the spot, and found him lying asleep, 

 quite unconscious of his danger. But, like a trae knight, he 

 scorned to strike his sleeping foe, and, raising his voice, he 

 uttered the following challenge : — ■ 



I, Tutevvaimate, 



Tutewaimate, son of Popotalii, 



Swift as the wind from the Rakaia Gorge, 



I have forestalled the drying of the morning dew. 



The startled robber, raising himself to a sitting posture, re- 

 plied, — 



Ho, Moko, 



l\Ioko, son of Hautere, 



The wind rushing down from Mount Tere, 



The man fed upon uncooked shark. 



As he uttered the last word the treacherous Moko, by a 

 sudden and unexpected thrust, killed his generous foe. 



The courage aiid endurance of Maori warriors is abundantly 

 illustrated, and, though the record of ferocity, cruelty, and 

 treachery found in the traditions is often appalling, it is some- 

 times relieved by deeds of generosity and mercifulness. While 

 one dying chief bequeaths to his tribe the prosecution of a blood - 

 feud, another implores those he is leaving behind him to for- 

 give the wrongs they have suffered, and to promote peace. 

 Again and again we hear the echo in succeeding generations of 

 the words uttered by a venerable father of the people as they 

 were leaving the shores of Hawaiki : " O my children! hearken 

 to tliese my words. Depart in peace, and, when you reach the 

 place you are going to, do not follow after the deeds of Tu, the 

 god of war, but rather follow quiet and useful occupations, and 

 then you will die a tranquil and natural death. Leave war 

 and strife behind you ; dwell in peace ; conduct yourselves like 

 men ; let there be no quarrelling amongst you, but build up a 

 great people." 



It is in the biographical records of noted individuals that 

 we meet with the most pleasiTig presentations of Maori charac- 

 ter and customs. There we find the mask of ferocity and 

 heartless cruelty which the tyranny of custom obliged the 

 Maori to wear in his public intercourse with his fellow-men 

 laid aside, and the real man, with his human sympathies and 

 feelings, revealed to us. There we find the domestic life of the 

 people stripped of its repulsive features, and presenting a picture 

 which civilised men can look upon with pleasure. One of the 

 most charming specimens of this kind of literature is the story 

 of Hinemoa, the maiden of Rotorua. The story tells how the 

 beautiful maiden, who lived on the shores of Lake Rotorua, and 



