It has already been explained that the Maori has strong aristocratic tendencies, and that the more elaborate ceremonies and high-class ritual were not employed in connection with the common folk of a community. Thus it is that, in order to explain the more interesting customs and practices connected with birth, it will be necessary for us to deal with a family of the chieftain class. With regard to the science of genesiology, the writer happens to possess a somewhat extensive budget of data as collected from several different tribes. This budget includes the higher form of ritual employed by the Takitumu folk. The ritual connected with birth, as pertaining to the cult of Io, the Supreme Being, is of special interest, as in the dedication of the child to that revered being. The ritual formulæ employed at such dedication are of an extremely archaic nature and interesting withal.

The most elaborate ceremonial was that connected with the first-born male child of a superior family, younger sons were not, apparently, honoured to so great a degree. The first-born female of such a family was, in like manner, considered to be of more importance than later-born females. The tutelary beings presiding over birth were Hina-te-iwaiwa or Hine-te-iwaiwa, and Hine-korako, both of whom are lunar personifications. In olden times marvellous things occurred in the world of light, according to Maori myth and folk lore, hence we hear of strange cases of unnatural birth and weird forms of parentage. A few such cases have been described. My old friends of the Tuhoe tribe are descended from Hine-pukohu the Mist Maid, who came down from the heavens and mated with Te Maunga (The Mountain), their progeny being one Potiki, the eponymic ancestor of the tribe Nga Potiki, called Tuhoe in later times. These fierce, virile bushmen are of celestial origin, they were born of mist and mountain; they are the Children of the Mist.

The condition of mate marama (moon or monthly sickness) always rendered women unclean in former days, and we have noted certain disabilities that were attached to that condition. This unclean state is often denoted by the word tapu, as in connection with the above affection, with birth and also with death. Little inconvenience did this condition cause native women physically, as in the matter of giving birth to a child she was remarkably free from suffering, and the ills experienced by women among more civilised folk. The care taken of a woman of rank, to be described presently, does not present the conditions under which an ordinary woman of the people brought forth her child. I have known women on the march, or engaged in some task, to go aside and return in an hour or so with the child. Truly is the wind tempered to the shorn or doctorless lamb.

In the case of a high-born woman, laborious work would not be expected of her when it was known that she was with child. Also the people of the community would probably visit her in a body and congratulate her on her being about to bear a child hei kahaki i te kawai—to carry on the line of descent of a high-class family. The Maori ever deeply deplored the extinction of an old and superior family. When, during pregnancy, a woman developed a desire for any particular food, it was said that the child craved it, and that food was called a whakawaiu, a producer of milk.

A very peculiar rite, known as whakato tamariki, was sometimes performed by native priests; it was a performance of white magic in order to cause a woman to conceive, hence was it styled “child implanting.” We have already noted two ways of bringing about such a condition, but there were also others. The following is a procedure that obtained among the Takitumu folk. The officiating priest ascertained which sex was desired by the parents, then procured a leaf which he cut into the outline of a human figure, not forgetting to indicate the sex. He then conducted the woman to a tapu place and bade her lie down on a mat, on her back. By means of certain purificatory acts and ritual formulæ he removed from her all evil and harmful influences, so as to leave her in a pure, receptive, morally clean condition. She now resembled the Earth Formed Maid, the first of all women, created by Tane the demiurge on the puke or mons veneris of the Earth Mother in the days when the world was young. The priest then intoned an invocation to Io, the Supreme One, asking him to endow the woman with the powers of the Earth Formed Maid, the power to produce children. He then put aside the woman's cloak, and, standing at her feet, facing her, holding the leaf image in his hand, he recited: “This young one is now a disciple of thine, O Io! Thy breath, the breath of the Earth Formed Maid, may it now alight.” He then placed the little leaf image on the body of the woman, just above the navel, and again covered her with the cloak. The next act was the lifting of the tapu from them both, after which the woman was free to return to her home. The priest preserved the leaf image, which was afterwards placed under her pillow when she was about to confined. Cruder forms of this rite were performed over women of less note, but in these cases lesser deities were appealed to.

We are now about to pass under the shadow of Maiki-nui and Whiro, the personified forms of sickness, disease and death in Maori myth, whose ceaseless attacks on mankind have already been explained. Hine-nui-te-po, the ex-Dawn Maid, is also connected with death in popular belief, and more is heard of her in that connection than of Whiro. The inner teachings concerning these things have already been explained. Maui the hero is said to have disputed with Hine on the subject of death, for he desired that death should be a temporary condition. Said Maui: “Even as the moon dies, and, having bathed in the Waiora a Tane, returns to this world once more young and beautiful, so let man die and revive.” But Hine of the Night said: “Not so. Rather shall man die and return to the Earth Mother for all time, even that he may be mourned and wept for.” Thus, when man dies, he is laid within the body of the primal mother, and in this world is seen never again. Nought is seen or heard save mourning parties wailing for the dead. For of old it was said: “By tears and lamentation only may a natural death be avenged.” The changing generations come and go, and ever, as of yore, dread Maiki-nui and Aitua assail the descendants of Tane and the Earth Formed Maid.

Concerning the origin of death, the Maori is not satisfied with having but one version to account for its entry into the world of life. The commonly accepted version is that of the contest between Maui and Hine, as representing Light and Darkness, Life and Death. Another version attributes it to the similar contest between Tane and Whiro. The latter introduced death into the world because he was not given his own way with regard to the qualities men should be endowed with, and because of his hostility towards Tane.

Another story tells us that death was made permanent when Hine descended to the underworld. Whiro and Hine are both connected with death, but the second death, that of the soul of man, is sought by Whiro alone; ever Hine is opposed to him in that matter. We have yet another quaint myth that tells us that the cause of death is woman. Tane took to wife a female being of the earth, hence their offspring are mortal; they know death. The beings possessed of the ira atua know not death. As an old native once said to me: “Observe the Whanau Marama, the Children of Light on the breast of the Sky Parent. They know not decay or death, they live for ever; they are unlike the people of this world; man is born but to be caught in the snare of Hine.” So it is that, when a person dies, an old saying of the Maori folk is quoted: “Me tangi, kāpā ko te mate i te marama” (Let us mourn and weep for him, for truly he dieth not as the moon dies).

All things of earth know death. All things possess a soul or life principle, hence all things must, sooner or later, perish. So says the Maori. All mankind must traverse the broad path of Tane, for death is universal. Character cannot ward off the attacks of Maiki-nui and Whiro, hence another saying that has come down the centuries: “He mata mahora no te ara whanui a Tane.”

The supernatural beings known as Te Kahui anu are said to represent both death and life. The right hand of such beings represents life, the left hand death. They are the origin of many omens and evil forces.

When a Maori is near his death he may be heard to say: “——is calling me,” mentioning the name of a defunct relative. The spirits of his forbears are calling to him to join them in the spirit world. When a native is in this frame of mind it would be a marvel were he to recover. For there is much of fatalism in the Polynesian character, and the Maori branch of the race has its full share of this peculiarity. Melancholia, nurtured by superstition, is often rapidly fatal among these people. Dr. W. H. Goldie has described clearly the effect of such mental depression on the organs.

The usual explanation has now to be made in connection with ceremonial performances pertaining to death, namely, that the higher-class ritual was practised only in connection with families of rank. The lower the social status of the person, the less ceremony entered into any rites connected with his illness, death and burial. So it is that, as in the case of marriage and birth, we have several different aspects of ceremonial performances to deal with: In connection with families of high rank we encounter the cult of Io the Supreme Being. Pertaining to what we will style middle-class folk, we deal with that of the departmental and tribal gods, and so on until we arrive at the hapless slave, whose body would be cast aside, like that of a dog.

Although the Maori is a fatalist, and so may allow his mind to destroy his body, yet his views on the subject of death are essentially Oriental. He has never passed, as we have, through long, weary centuries of teachings concerning dreadful suffering in the spirit world. Thrice fortunate is the barbaric Maori in that he has not been taught to fear the hereafter.

Of Maori fatalism and the condition of melancholia that hinges upon it, and is produced so easily, we have already seen something in our examination of the arts of black magic. Often have I noted how the will to live is lacking in the Maori when illness seizes him, how easily he resigns himself to think of death. The attitude and treatment of his friends serve to strengthen such a mental condition; they so often seem to make up their minds that he is on his death bed. Nor are they backward in letting him know their conclusions. The shamanistic humbugs on whom the Maori relies so much in sickness are past masters in the art of dispatching him to Rarohenga. Not only is this done by outrageous treatment and vile modern nostrums, but also often by plain intimation that the sick person cannot recover. Many such cases have I known; let a lone illustration suffice. A young girl, by no means seriously ill, apparently, was brought to one of these wretched impostors known to local fame as “The New Messiah.” His verdict was brief and effective; he just glanced at her and remarked: “In one week she will be dead,” which she assuredly was.

The late Dr. W. H. Goldie studied this Maori form of melancholia, and has left us some interesting remarks on the subject, concerning which I was able to supply him with some data. He attributed the proneness to such a condition largely to lack of mental discipline; the emotions of the Maori have too free a play, and age-old superstition clasps hands with the undisciplined mind. He considered that the absence of a pronounced fear of death expedited resignation and collapse; the life-preserving instinct is but feebly developed. The nervous shock to the patient renders the whole nervous system paretic; he offers no resistance to the stuporose condition which then supervenes; he is the helpless victim of delusional melancholia. The Dr. concluded: “He is submerged by one overmastering delusion; he has offended the gods, he must die. There is an abeyance of interest in things external; the morbid state is most acutely centralised; there is great nervous depression; there is a loss of physical energy, and this secondary depression spreads gradually to all the organs; the vital functions are all depressed, the heart becomes depressed, the involuntary muscles become dormant, and finally there is a complete anergia or death. The unbalanced mind succumbs without a struggle to the severe mental shock of overwhelming superstitious fear.”

The Maori terms a natural death mate aitu, and mate tara whare (death by the house wall). Mate atua and mate maori are both applied to death caused by the gods and evil spirits, either by direct action or through the medium of witch-craft. In native belief illness is a condition brought about by such supernormal powers, either as a punishment for wrong committed, such as a transgression of tapu, or such beings were the agents employed by a magician who wished to afflict or destroy him. It was this belief, firmly embedded in the native mind, that so effectually prevented anything like true medical research in Maoridom. On that account medicine was an unknown art, and so those hapless folk who were seized by illness were treated in the manner described in the following pages. These conditions much resembled those that obtained in ancient times in Babylonia, and have, at one time, so obtained in all other regions. It is gratifying to note that this deplorable condition is at last undergoing a change among our native folk, and the shamanistic quack is not so much in evidence now as he was.

It is a singular fact that, when the Maori was made acquainted with European medicines, he took to them in a manner most enthusiastic. He developed a marvellous appetite for medicine, no matter what the remedy might be, or whether he possessed any ailment or not. When camped in the byways of the land I have known natives enjoy themselves by sampling any rongoa (medicine) that might be accessible within my lowly 8 X 10 mansion. Thus when my worthy friend “The Rainy Day” came to apply for a bush-felling contract, his wife solaced herself by swallowing half a bottle of fluid cascara sagrada that she espied upon a shelf. This seductive beverage might not have seriously disturbed her accommodating interior had she not supplemented it with a dose of Mr. Davis' superfine painkiller! In the scene that ensued I did not take a hand; it is sufficient to say that things happened! This, however, is digression.

The Maori attitude of resignation to the strokes of Aituā (personified form of misfortune) has been made clear. Yet, in some cases, he can summon will power to fight the grim forces of Whiro and Maiki-nui in manner most surprising. It is now two decades since old Whakamoe lay sick unto death by the shores of the Lake of Rippling Waters, where giant Huiarau looks down on two seas. When believed to be near his end, the old man informed his clansmen that he would not die until he had welcomed to his plaza the Land Commissioners appointed to define native interests in the adjacent lands. Days ran into weeks, and both Commissioners and chieftain lingered. Then, one fair day, the white man's boat and native canoes were seen gliding out from the shadow of Huiarau and heading for the eastern shore of the mountain lake. When the visitors, European and native, marched on to the plaza, the world weary old man was waiting for them. He lay on his rude couch on the ground, and, in that position, uttered his speech of welcome. He then addressed his clansmen, commended the guests to their care, advised them on the conduct of affairs, and urged them to live in amity “for sympathy and good feeling are the most important things in the world.” And then, as we looked, the weary old neolith turned to the gleaming west, and fared out on the old, old Four Way Path that leads to the loved homeland and the spirit world.

Under the heading “Treatment of the Sick” we shall encounter some of the unpleasing characteristics of the Maori people, for their treatment of the sick bears often the aspect of callous indifference to the suffering of the patient. This is largely due to superstition. The peculiar prejudices of these natives caused them to remove a sick person from his dwellingplace and to convey him to a rude, temporary hut at the out skirts of the hamlet. In these times a tent is often utilised for the purpose. Also magic, superstitious practices, thaumaturgy, entered largely into the treatment of sick persons. The practices of high-class tohunga were the most free from such performance; low-class shamans revelled in them.

Offences against the innumerable rules of tapu were held to be a very common cause of illness, and in all such cases the illness was the punishment inflicted by the gods. Puhi-kai-naonao and Kai-uaua are two demons whose special province it is to punish persons guilty of the crime of kairamua, which is the appropriation of foods protected by a rahui. The result of such punishment is a wasting and fatal illness. In the Matatua district the bodies of persons dying of this complaint were, in some cases, formerly burned, lest the living be infected. A person perishing in a thunder storm in that district is said to have been slain by Tupai. The caco-dæmons called atua kahu are also frequent inflicters of illness; magic arts were often responsible for divers ailments. Stomach ache (kopito) was often attributed to active caco-dæmons. To interfere with such a symbol as the stone taumata placed among growing crops would inevitably result in illness.

I cannot agree with the late Dr. Goldie's statement that, among the Polynesians, disease was not frequently attributed to demoniac possession; he substitutes the expression “ghostly possession.” But it was an error to maintain that the lizard or other emissary of an affiicting atua that was believed to enter the body, is necessarily an incarnation of that being. The form of incarnation of an atua might be a bird, and yet the sufferer was supposed to harbour a lizard that was gnawing at his vitals. That lizard does represent Whiro, the personified form of death, and the atua or demon responsible for the presence of the lizard is the medium between it and Whiro. This belief as to illness being caused by a lizard was a very common one. One Moko-hiku-waru (eight-tailed lizard) is spoken of as a tutelary being of lizards and an evil being who dwells within the Tatau o te Po, or the underworld.

When a native is taken ill away from his home it is, or was, quite a common occurrence for him to be carried back to that home on a litter (amo), so that, if death comes, he may die on his own land. Again, a sick person was sometimes ordered what we would term a change of air. In such a case the idea is to get the sufferer away from the beings who are afflicting him, to another district to whose gods and demons he is a stranger. This act is termed whakahehe, a word meaning “to foil.” The affectionate care with which a sick relative is treated among us is not discernible among the Maori folk.

So far as we know the Maori seems to have been afflicted by comparatively few diseases in pre-European days. If he escaped the anger of the gods, the chances of war, and death by accident, he lived to a green old age; so say his descendants. It must have been a case of the survival of the fittest. Take, for example, my old friends of the Tuhoe tribe, who have dwelt for centuries in their rugged, forest-clad, highlying district. These folk possessed but a minimum of clothing, the Phormium plant did not flourish in their region. Children ran naked for the first six or eight years of life. Note Colenso's account of seeing naked children playing about in the snow. And these fierce bushmen were renowned for vigour and endurance, and a heavy hand in war; they were “Te Urewera haere po” (The night-travelling Urewera); they were “Tuhoe moumou kai, moumou taonga, moumou tangata ki te Po” (Tuhoe, wasters of food and property, consigners of men to the spirit world).

Captain James Cook remarked on the healthy appearance of the natives of these isles. It is pretty sure that weakly persons would perish in infancy, and thus, as in the case of the rugged Caledonians of yore, a sturdy, virile race would be the

Although singing forms no important element in our lives, such a remark cannot be employed in connection with the Maori folk. For these people made much use of song in order to express their feelings and thoughts. When we are listening to one of our race delivering a speech, ceremonial or otherwise, it would come as a surprise to us were he to break into song every now and again. Yet this is just what the Maori does. He seems to be nearer to the age of song than we are, as though it had been, in the misty past, an attribute of primordial man that has become gradually weakened as man has advanced in general culture. Certain anthropologists seem to think that human speech was originally sung or chaunted, and assuredly there is some evidence in favour of such an assumption.

Apart from the racial love of song inherent in the Maori, the writer has ever been much impressed and interested by the intense love of the people for the two qualities of rhythm and euphony. Evidence of this is noted particularly in the strong penchant the Maori has for intoning many such vocal expressions as would by us be delivered in an ordinary conversational tone of voice. A good illustration of this has already been given in the account of how the old-time native enquired the name of a stranger. The brief phrase employed was not spoken, it was intoned, as: “Na wai taua-a?” The reply thereto was rendered in a similar manner. Now only barbaric man would evolve or preserve such a peculiar usage. This peculiarity of the Maori is ever in evidence, and any person residing among the natives has opportunities of noting illustrations of it. Whenever the emotions of the Maori are stirred, then he is prompted to indulge in song. Hence these forms of expression are observed in connection with the most prosaic occurrences. The simplest form of recital uttered by even a child is delivered with such modulations of tone as to render it euphonious and grateful to the ear. This is an aspect of Maori mentality that the writer wishes to impress upon the reader.

Closely connected with the foregoing quality was the partiality of the Maori for metaphor, allegorical expressions mystic and mythopoetic phrases, and aphorisms. In speech he utilised myth and tradition to point his utterances, and also employed innumerable personifications in an apt and pleasing manner. For these reasons the translation of native songs is almost invariably a difficult matter, unless one can obtain enlightenment from one who is acquainted with the figurative expressions, sacerdotal terms, old sayings, allusions to old myths, and cryptic utterances that they contain. The more a person studies native songs, the stronger becomes his desire to leave their translation to others.

The Maori poet had, as one would surmise, no knowledge of rhyme; his aim was a rhythmical flow of words. Presumably rhyme would scarcely be suitable for his peculiar mode of singing; its effect would be lost or dissipated in the long-drawn-out hianga that formed the termination of lines or sentences. Mr. J. A. Davis, in his remarks on Maori songs, published in Sir George Grey's Polynesian Mythology, refers to the lack of metre and rhythm of any marked character. In the case of laments, love songs, etc., such as were brought under Mr. Davis's notice, the effect on our ears is undoubtedly monotonous. The quarter tones indulged in by natives do not meet with approval among Europeans.

Another remark made by the above writer is to the effect that a Maori will stop at any point in a song in order to take breath This he assuredly does, though it is surprising to note how seldom he does want to stop for that purpose. He does not drop his voice, however, when he stops. The dying away of the voice in the hianga is often represented by vowel sounds only, as e-e-i. In some cases it is na-i-i. A singer frequently inserts a long-drawn vowel sound at the end of a line, albeit the sentence is still incomplete, as in the following lines:— “Kia wharikitia mai koe e o tipuna-e-eKi te whariki pounamu, e hine-e-e-i.” So far as can be ascertained by a person utterly ignorant of vocal music, melody, to the native ear, seems to be produced by slight modulations of the voice and lengthened vowel sounds, not only in the form of the hianga described above, but also, in some cases, in the middle of a line. No good monograph has, however, ever appeared concerning the songs and singing of our native folk.

The Maori has a keen ear for the reo irirangi, or “spirit voice,” heard when several persons are singing together. It is on such phenomena as this that barbaric man is apt to base mythopoetic fancies.

Europeans complain that native songs are tuneless, but no Maori will agree to this, and he will decline to render a song if he be unacquainted with the rangi (air or tune) thereof. This word rangi is also employed to denote a stanza, verse, or division of a song; whiti and upoko bear the same meaning. Many writers have praised sentiments expressed in native songs, but few ever venture to praise native singing.

The Maori has a much keener ear for modulations of voice, for inflection, etc., than have most of us. The construction of his language alone might account for this fact, for therein certain usages may be either a question or a state-

In scanning the scientific knowledge of the Maori of past times we may well expect a brief task. His knowledge of what we generally view as science was decidedly elementary, yet we find items of interest in his crude methods of navigation, his half knowledge of the stars, his rude mechanical contrivances and modes of measurement, and his primitive system of time division. In his system of numeration and the use of the balista we note the high water mark of Maori endeavours; in some of his tools, his mode of weaving, his method of generating fire, we observe the most primitive aspect of his artifacts and methods. At the same time the Maori evinced in many of his usages a close knowledge of conditions and habits that shows him to possess keen powers of observation. Like all barbaric folk he was groping his way through the murk of ignorance, and the heights of Parnassus still loomed far above him.

In common with other peoples of a similar culture stage the Maori had strayed in some cases from the true path, hence his knowledge of astronomy was combind with astrology in such a manner as often to excite derision among Europeans. In his division of time our Maori had not evolved any satisfactory scheme whereby to fix the commencement of his year, he lacked precision here as in other matters. This is also seen in his lack of a universal and precise unit of measurement, in his inability to define long distances with precision, in his attributing disease to a wrong source, and other matters. In some cases it seems surprising that these natives have not adopted more advantageous methods that to us appear so very perceptible to even a casual observer. For instance we know that they used the cord drill uncontrolled by any form of containing cap piece, hence the crater shaped holes seen in old stone weapons, pendants etc. The cap piece would have been of great advantage in the process of boring and one can but marvel that such simple improvements have not been grasped and utilised. In his primitive system of expressing oil from seeds the Maori relied on the strength of his arms, but a rude form of lever press would have been a great improvement on such a crude method, and would scarcely call for much intelligence, one would suppose, in its adoption.

In nothing such rude processes and forms as those referred to above, one experiences a feeling akin to disappointment that the Maori had not advanced further in mechanical contrivances. The fact is that, after observing the evidences of a superior mentality as possessed by the ancestors of the Maori, we naturally expect to see its effect in his every day pursuits. It is, however, more in evidence in his mythological and spiritual concepts than in his artifacts and industrial methods.

We will now proceed to scan some of the institutions of the Maori that illustrate his progress in elementary science, and will commence with the subject of numeration.

The subject of Polynesian numeration is a somewhat puzzling study inasmuch as one encounters a number of inconsistencies therein, and these are very confusing to the student. We shall here have quite enough to do to deal with the subject as pertaining to New Zealand. The troubles of other lands we will leave to other persons; as the Maori puts it: “Kei rau o whenua ona raruraru.”

The Maori not only counted singly, but likewise employed a binary system of numeration, while there are also signs of a vigesimal method having been employed in past times. As in the groups of Polynesia there appears to have been no precise universal system of nomenclature employed in all districts, certain differences appear in both names and methods, so far as we can judge. Old methods were, however, abandoned in the very early days of European settlement, and our informants were sometimes not very clear as to those methods. The decimal system has now long been the numerative system of the Maori, probably for nearly one hundred years.

Missionary Ellis proclaimed his astonishment at the Polynesian system of numeration in these words: “The precision, regularity, and extent of their numbers has often astonished me.” The same remark might have been applied to the New Zealand system. The Maori certainly had precise terms whereby to denote numbers up to one hundred and eighty, and by the use of his term for a hundred (rau) and the binary method, he could enumerate any number of objects that he would be likely to deal with. As to the Maori term for one thousand viz: mano, it is thought by some that it was not employed in olden days to denote that or any other precise number, but that it was used as an equivalent for “numberless,” “countless,” “a vast number,” and similar expressions. This may have been so, but the fact remains that the Maori possessed a remarkably full and useful system for a barbaric folk.

Like ourselves the Maori often made use of round numbers, approximate estimations, such as the expression rau ma whitu, which is an abbreviated form of denoting three hundred and forty. In like manner was the term hokowhitu used to denote one hundred and forty, or any number within a few score of it.

The Maori digits are as follows: TahiOneRuaTwoToruThreeWhaFourRimaFiveOnoSixWhituSevenWaruEightIwaNineNgahuruTen

Since the arrival of Europeans the word tekau has come to be used to denote ten, but ngahuru was the old term for that number. In its many variant forms it is used all over Polynesia and in many parts of Melanesia and Indonesia, while the names of the digits in Malagasi closely resemble Polynesian forms.

The word tekau, now applied to ten, was formerly employed by the Maori to denote twenty, as it does in Polynesian dialects. The usual prefixes to the cardinals are ko (before tahi) and e (before rua to iwa), but no such prefix is used with ngahuru. When actually counting a number of objects a native proceeds: “Ka tahi, ka rua, etc., “ka ngahuru,” or “ka tekau” in these days. The ordinals are formed by prefixing tua, as tuatahi (first), tuarua (second), tuangahuru (tenth). In speaking of persons the prefix toko is used with digits, as tokorua, etc., but it is not used with ngahuru or tekau, and very seldom with tahi. Natives sometimes insert the definite article instead of the prefix tua to denote ordinals, as te rua (the second), te wha (the fourth). This usage applies to any number: te rau ma tahi (the hundred and first). The prefix toko is also used with a few other words when speaking of persons, as tokohia (how many), tokomaha (many). The prefix taki, placed before numerals has a distributive force, as takitahi (singly), takirua (by twos), and so on.

Having practised the arts of peace for some time it behoves us now to lift the war trail and march with the kawau māro under the banner of Tu. For war was certainly a Maori occupation, one of his common activities, more so than was agriculture. Some tribes cultivated but little food, or none at all, but assuredly all indulged in fighting. It was a necessity, for the people who were not prepared to fight courted disaster and extinction. No such a people has been heard of in New Zealand, but we are told that the Moriori folk of the Chatham Isles had entirely abandoned fighting long before discovery by Europeans. The result of that lapse from virtue we know well. When, in 1835, a band of the Atiawa tribe seized the Rodney brig in Wellington Harbour, and compelled the captain thereof to take them to the Chathams, the doom of the Moriori was sealed. The little band of hardy, trained fighters assailed about 2,000 natives and did as they listed. Life for some time was a prolonged cannibal feast for them, and the hapless Moriori were knocked on the head when wanted for the ovens.

An old saying of the Maori runs: “Ka tuwhera te tawaha o te riri, kaore e titiro ki te ao marama,” which may be rendered as: The gates of war are open and man recks not of the world of life. It is through those gates that we must now accompany the Maori toa, or warrior, in order to observe his modes of fighting.

Among such a “touchy” folk as the Maori the causes of war were innumerable, almost anything might lead to intertribal fighting. The Maori says: “He wahine, he whenua, e ngaro ai te tangata” (By women and land are men lost), but there were many other causes of war, and none more prolific than the extreme sensitiveness of the rangatira class. The belittling of prestige or authority, termed takahi mana, has started many intertribal wars, as also has ridicule. By war one does not here mean such warfare as occurs among races of higher culture, but a series of annual raids conducted during the slack season, that is after the crops were planted.

As an illustration. In days of old a woman, named Koraria, chanced to be sitting outside the stockade of Puketapu, a fortified village at Te Teko. A party of a neighbouring clan chanced to pass by, and, seeing the woman sitting there in somewhat scant attire, one of the party laughed. That laugh desolated many lands. As my informant put it: “It caused the land to resound with the mourning of widows, it sent men flowing like water down to the spirit world, and left but the drifting birds on the Sea of Taupo.”

For, look you! Koraria replied to that laugh with an insulting expression. The laughers raised a force of the Awa folk and attacked Puketapu, slaying a number of persons. The Puketapu folk then attacked the Warahoe people, who had not injured them but were related to the Awa tribe. Warahoe retaliated by killing some of the Puketapu people, and the latter marched against Warahoe, took both their fortified vil- lages, and drove them out of the district. They found a temporary home at Taupo. The Tuhoe tribe then attacked the Puketapu people on behalf of Warahoe. The attacked clan called upon the Awa and Arawa tribes for assistance, the combined force attacking Tuhoe. The latter retaliated by marching to Lake Rere-whakaaitu, where they attacked the Arawa, slaying some important chiefs. The Arawa called on Taupo and Waikato for assistance, and raided the bush-clad Tuhoe district. Tuhoe marched on Taupo and defeated the lake folk at Orona. Then at last peace was made, and the tatau pounamu, the jade door, closed on the long-drawn strife. But the man who laughed at Koraria below the ramparts of Puketapu had sent hundreds of souls down to Rarohenga.

The Maori ever looked upon death in intertribal fighting as a perfectly natural and even desirable end. Many deemed it a fitter end than “death by the house wall.” The comfortless nature of native huts, and the treatment that sick persons were subjected to were certainly sufficient to cause man to desire death in battle. Man slaying, says the Maori, is one of man's most important activities, it is the umanga kapukapu, or umanga nui (the great game); better to die weapon in hand than by lingering sickness or old age.

There were different degrees as it were of fighting. Quarrels and even fighting among clans of a tribe over land disputes, riri whenua as it is termed, was a much less bitter and strenuous affair than fighting with another tribe. The term pakanga seems to be applied to the more serious forms of fighting. The seeking of blood vengeance for tribesmen slain in a treacherous manner produced the bitterest form of fighting. When bent on such serious expeditions it was imperative that the first person encountered, be he friend or foe, be slain. Such an incident is termed a maroro kokoti ihu waka, a flying fish crossing the bows of a canoe. It is a bad thing for the flying fish. We have, in our narrative, already scanned many causes of war, some of which could not possibly be foreseen.

The fashioning of implements from bones of enemies was one of many causes of war, and the fighting in such cases was very bitter. When living among the Tuhoe folk I found that they still had some bone spear points fashioned from bones of enemies slain a century ago. These were bird spears, and points of human bone were always preferred for these. I obtained some of these spear points by barter, a 50lb. bag of flour for two points!

We have seen that male children were often dedicated to the service of Tu, the supreme god of war, and that youths and young men were carefully and ceaselessly trained in the arts of war. We have many of the ritual formulæ recited over infants in order to endow them with courage, ability, and dexterity in the use of weapons. This was the Tohi of Tu, and a somewhat similar rite was performed over men prior to engaging in a fight.

In the school of arms called para-whakawai youths and young men were trained by the Ika a Whiro or tried warriors, masters of the art of hapai rakau, or bearing of arms. Commencing with light, harmless reeds, they were afterwards promoted to the use of wooden rods such as mako, and then perhaps to real spears with the points muffled so as to inflict no wound. The acquisition of the necessary skill in the use of several forms of weapons, and the ceaseless practice of the art of parrying and avoiding weapons, was no light task; it required long years of training. There were also many other things to be learned, charms, signs, omens, etc., all of which called for careful study and concentration on the part of young men.

The Maori mind is nothing if not metaphysical, and so he had evolved a mode of protecting his courage and ability in war from all evil influences that might weaken it. He would take the ahua or immaterial semblance of the desirable qualities of the men of a group, and convey it for safe keeping to some tapu or secret place. By means of a certain rite an expert would cause those qualities to be protected so that the owners would not be affected by the evils of hauhauaitu, pahunu, hinapo, tumatarehurehu, etc., all of which are extremely pernicious and dangerous to human life.

The conditions mentioned are the result of some transgression of the laws of tapu, that is to say of offences against the gods. Inasmuch as a person can commit such offences without being aware of it at the time, it follows that he never knew when the evils mentioned might afflict him. The first two names given denote a loss of courage, vigour and mental power. A person so afflicted loses his nerve, becomes apprehensive, his presence of mind fails him in a crisis. It is not a question of cowardice, that is quite a different thing. The fact is the gods are not with him; their sustaining, vivifying power has been withdrawn. He has become pahunu, he is assailed by tumatarehurehu, he is afflicted by hinapo, and can no longer see the warning signs of the gods. The writer is inclined to think that Tu-mata-rehurehu (dim-eyed Tu) and Tu-matapongia (sightless Tu) are personified forms of this condition of hinapo.

Should men of a fighting force be afflicted by these evils it becomes necessary to remove them. This is done in a very simple manner; the afflicted person passes between the legs of the priest of the party, or those of a chief. If a woman is available, the sufferer will lie down and get her to step over him, or, as the Maori phrases it, he passes below her thighs. Both acts are effective, says the Maori. It is a result of the ancient belief in the extraordinary powers of the human organs of reproduction. In some cases the afflicted man just inserted his head between the limbs of the woman. We are also told that the apron or kilt of an influential woman was carried by an armed force in some cases, and a man afflicted by hauhauaitu would wrap it round his head, and let it remain there a few moments. We now see how useful was the usage of protecting the qualities of a person, as described above; it was a form of life insurance.

When a young man lifts his first war trail, he will secure some article belonging to the first man he kills, a weapon or garment, and present it to the priest of his own party, who will then perform over him a form of the Tohi rite. There was ever a tohunga or priest of some kind accompanying a raiding force, for many superstitions were observed in regard to war, and so the tohunga was deemed highly necessary. One of the chief tasks of such a functionary was to consult his atua, or familiar, with regard to a coming fight, and explain the result to the party. This is why the “chaplain” of the force was often in command of it.