TAAROARll’s LAST ILLNESS. 237 
but seldom utter a syllable in reply, and seemed 
unwilling to have the subject brought under consi¬ 
deration. This was the most distressing circum¬ 
stance attending his illness, and to none more 
painfully affecting than to his aged father. 
On the last day of his life, Mrs. Ellis and our 
two elder children, to whom he had always been 
partial, went to see him ; he appeared compara¬ 
tively cheerful, listened to all that was said, and 
shook the children by the hand very affectionately, 
when they said, la ora na, or, Farewell. I spent 
some time with him during the same afternoon, 
and it was the most affecting intercourse I ever 
had with a dying fellow-creature. 
The encampment was fixed on an elevated part 
of the plain, near which the river, that flowed 
from the interior mountain to the sea, formed a 
considerable curvature. The adjacent parts of the 
valley were covered with shrubs, but the margin of 
the river was overgrown with slender branching 
purau, and ancient chesnut-trees, that reared their 
stately heads far above the rest, and shed their 
grateful shade on the waters, and on the shore. 
Near the edge of the cool stream that rippled over 
the pebbles, and at the root of one of these stately 
trees, I found the young chieftain, lying on a port¬ 
able couch, surrounded by his sorrowing friends 
and attendants. 
I asked why they had brought him there : they 
said that he complained of heat or want of air, 
and they had brought him to that spot that he 
might enjoy the refreshing coolness of the stream 
and the shade. I could not but' admire their 
choice as I sat beside him, and felt, after leaving 
the portions of the valley exposed to the sun's 
rays, as if I had entered another climate, The 
