6& Transactions. — Miscellaneous. 



This beautiful figure, taken from the long palm-like fronds of this fine fern 

 (twelve to twenty feet), gracefully curved and drooping towards the earth, is 

 not unlike that used by us in funereal subjects, our own " weeping willow." 

 Further, this was the solemn attitude always assumed by the old Maoris in 

 weeping and lamenting over their dead, with body and head bowed forwards, 

 and arms extended together and curved downwards towards the corpse or 

 remains. 



" Where indeed is he," etc. Here one is strongly reminded of those 

 pathetic and striking lines by Byron, in the " Bride of Abydos :" — 

 " Hark to the hiirried question of Despair ! — 

 ' Where is my child? ' and Echo answers ' Where ? ' " — (Canto II.) 



A note appended thereto is also worthy of notice — " I came to the place 

 of my birth and cried, — ' The friends of my youth where are they ? ' and an 

 echo answered, ' AVhere are they ? ' " {Arab. MS.) 



" Upon the same plot of ground," etc., lit. kahnijjapa ; — i.e. the flats, or 

 small islets and shoals, in or near salt-water lagoons and estuaries, where 

 the small sea-birds, etc., flock and preen and dress themselves in the sun ; 

 another beautiful figure. 



" The mountain standing near my home," and " the air, or breezes, of 

 my native place." These two beautiful similes have ever been in great 

 esteem among the Maoris, and are still very commonly used by them in 

 letters when away from home and writing thither, not unfrequently causing 

 affectionate tears when read. Those tender and natural familiar expres- 

 sions closely resemble some of our own esteemed European ones^ — e.g., the 

 song of " Home, sweet home ;" the proverbs, " Home is home, be it ever so 

 homely " (Eng.) ; "East and west, at home the best " (Germ.) ; " The reek 

 of my own house is better than the fire of another's " {Span.) ; " Home, my 

 own dear home, tiny though thou be, to me thou seemest an abbey " 

 {Ital.) And so our British poets — Burns, Scott, Byron, and Wordsworth, 

 and particularly Goldsmith. Cotton, who preceded most of them, has a 

 beautiful hemistich, which I cannot help quoting : — 

 " The world has nothing to bestow ; 

 From our ownselves our joys must flow. 



And that dear hut, — our home." 

 Not, however, forgetting Burns' beautiful song, — 



" Of a' the airts the wind can blaw." 



" That evil-minded fiend Whiro.'' — Whiro was, possibly, the worst of all 

 the demon-gods, or supernaturals, of the Maoris ; to whose malevolence, death 

 and disaster on land were always attributed. 



(2.) 

 The Lament for Te Heuheu, a principal Chief of Taupo ; who, together 

 with about 60 of his followers, was suddenly swallowed up by a terrible 



