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Maori Proverbs and Sayings
It is a saying of the
I have lived a long and varied life, consequently this volume is also long and varied in its contents. In The Story of a Maori Chief, I describe the life of a chief who emerged from savagery to occupy a seat in the Legislative Council; in the following pages, I describe the life of a Maori boy, ignorant of the outside world, to become, as a young man, an undergraduate in the university, and, later in life, to live his old age in a very isolated spot, there to divide his time between gardening and writing.
I express regret that owing to restrictions the Autobiography is not a full record of my life; for instance although I have been a member of a local body for over thirty years, there is no reference to that phase of my life. After reading the proofs, I find that in writing an autobiography, one may lay oneself open to a charge of egotism. Be that as it may, my main purpose is to show my people that one can live a happy life under the most adverse circumstances and if the telling of my story is not couched in happy terms, the fault is that I have not learned the art of simulation.
I wish once more to express, as I did in regard to the publication of The Story of a Maori Chief, my thanks to the State Literary Fund Advisory Committee for their aid in the publication of
I wish also to tender my thanks to the publishers, Messrs
Sir James Carroll.I was born at Orutua, near
The Orutua valley was then closed in by wooded hills on three sides, open to the Pacific Ocean on one and in the middle of it, fed by several mountain torrents, the Orutua winds its sluggish course to the sea. A bar of papa rocks stretches across the mouth of the river, holding back the water and turning it into a strip of a lake. Both banks of the river were lined with large and gnarled pohutukawa trees, which when in flower enhanced the beauty of a beautiful valley.
Not a week ago I had crossed the Orutua. Piled up along the beaches were logs of all sizes, brought down by flood, and boulders and debris hurled over the rocky bar by the force of flood waters had filled up the space between the bar and the sea. I noticed with deep regret that the beautiful pohutukawa which grew on the left bank of the river near its mouth, and others further up, had wholly disappeared, torn up from their roots by the weight of the logs piled up against them by the flood. All my life, I had known these trees, and one of them I had particular reason to remember. Now, my trees are gone—gone for ever. They were strewn on the beach, like dead soldiers on a battlefield.
Here in this valley I was born, and here I spent the earliest days of my life.
Before I write down my recollections of this period of my life, first, I should explain why my people came to
My mother,
Here sub-tribes who sympathised with the Hauhau movement came to swell its number. Wai-o-Matatini, just across the Waiapu river, had been the centre of the Kingite movement, and therefore readily threw in its lot with the rebels. I give a more detailed account of the incident in The Story of a Maori Chief.
Mokena Kohere took upon himself to pardon the rebels, to resist confiscation of the
At the conclusion of the campaign on the East Coast there was a shortage of food and both rebels and friendlies suffered alike. It may be mentioned here that Maoris who fought for the Government were not paid anything. My grandfather and his family moved to Horoera where sea-food was plentiful. They later moved to Orutua, where my grandfather built a weatherboard house. My second birthday was a great event and people in hundreds attended the celebration at Orutua. The principal food eaten and enjoyed was what is called doughboy, that is, flour boiled and stirred in water and sweetened with sugar or wild honey. Potfuls of the preparation were poured out into canoes around which sat the guests, each armed with mussel and paua shells. My
My grandfather was the only one for miles around who owned a flock of sheep which had survived the war on the East Coast. The flock provided us and our neighbours with meat. It was my father's habit when he went round to look at the sheep, to put me on the back of a favourite horse while he led it. It was on one such occasion I had my first fall off a horse and my father was so anxious about me that he kept me in cold water until I suffered more from the cold than from the effects of the fall.
When I was about four years old, I had a more serious fall which nearly terminated my young life. One of the pohutukawa trees I have already mentioned grew aslant over the Orutua. I climbed up this and fell into deep water. My young companion had sense enough to realise I was in mortal danger. He hurried into the house and, seeing my mother, began pulling her skirt; at the same time pointing towards the river. My mother instinctively gathered I was in trouble. She arrived just in time to save me, although there was grave doubt whether I would come round.
People have often asked me the cause of the large scar on my right wrist. I was watching a man putting a rope round the neck of a new-born calf and, as the calf cried, its mother became very excited and kept running about. I ran into a shed and instead of standing on the flat ground, of course, I stood on a round log. As the cow became excited, I grew more excited and lost my balance and, in falling, I put out my right hand to support myself and put it on the broken bottom of a bottle. The broken bottle with its sharp edges stuck into my wrist. When my
I must relate the battle that was fought between my dog, Taake, and, of all enemies of a dog, a young octopus. (By the way, I have already written in the present volume two stories about octopuses) I had been sailing my little boat in a pool in the rocks when I saw an octopus in a small round pool. Its eyes were almost dropping out of its ugly head with fright. The creature looked so hideous that I felt a very strong repugnance to it. With delight I set my dog on to it. The dog seemed to share my animosity for the octopus, for it leaped on the enemy, his and mine. There was a battle royal and I was the sole eyewitness. As the octopus entwined the dog with its tentacles, the latter became more furious and began tearing the body of the octopus until the water of the pool became discoloured with matter from its torn body. Taake was conqueror, and he was lucky the octopus was no bigger than it was or it would have gone hard with him.
My grandfather left for Wellington to take his seat in the Legislative Council in 1872. I was too young, of course, to remember the occasion of his departure. The Government steamer Luna picked him up, otherwise, I do not know how he could have got to Wellington. When I was a little older, I remember standing on the beach and gazing seawards at a small steamer coming in. The vessel was the Luna, bringing back my grandfather. The arrival of the boat always excited the people for it not only brought back my grandfather, but also, with him, a large quantity of flour, biscuits and sugar, much of which was given by the Government under
My family, for Maoris, were remarkably free from superstitions. My grandfather had one pet superstition, that was the itching of his nose. His nose led him.
I was often told how my grandmother rebuffed my grandfather when making love to her because he was older than she, and, besides, she did not like his tattooed face. When grandfather waxed persistent in his advances, my grandmother thought her safety lay in flight; thereupon, without letting anybody know of her intention, she fled to some unknown spot where she could remain in hiding and unmolested. When my grandfather found out that his stubborn sweetheart had given him the slip he betook him to a tohunga who could cast a spell over the fugitive and so bring her back to him. My grandmother often related how she was caught in a whirlwind which turned her right round to the way in which she came and suddenly she felt her soul yearn for her despised lover.
Here I would introduce the legend of Te Aoputaputa In another version of the legend,
The tide was good and women were diving for crayfish where the dainty crustaceans were usually found in large number. When the other women's kits bulged with crayfish, they left the water and warmed themselves with a fire on which had been thrown small crayfish. Meanwhile, Te Ao was desperately looking for crayfish for she dreaded going home with an empty kit, but not one could she find. Everywhere she looked even in caverns, where crayfish were usually found, the only object that met her eyes was a solitary periwinkle. To return home with an empty kit would be a disgrace and would form a lively topic for gossip. The tide was coming in fast and she had not a crayfish. She dived once more and, sure enough, the periwinkle was there. Disgusted and ashamed, she put it in her kit and waited for her companions to leave for home, lest they should see her empty kit. She walked slowly towards the fire and, pushing the sticks together, she threw the fateful periwinkle on the fire. As it became heated, it began to sing Readers may be aware that shell-fish, like a periwinkle, when heated in the fire, do sing.
The story of
The name, Nihomakuru, appears amongst those of my ancestors. The ancestors of
When my grandfather went to Wellington, my father and mother moved to
There was an abortive attempt to open a school, about the year 1878. I remember how I listened with amazement to what I now learn to be a recital of the Lord's Prayer and the singing of the song, "Pull for the Shore, Sailor," from Sankey's collection.
At last, I was old enough to go to school. The master's name was McMahon, and he wore a long beard. Two long, double desks ran almost the whole length of the room, and, as the children sat on each side of the desk and facing one another, there was irresistable temptation to talk and make faces at one another, but the greatest commotion took place under the desks, where dangling legs, on one side, waged continuous warfare against the legs on the opposite side, for it was the easiest thing in the world to go over the frontier. Fortunately for the legs, the feet they carried were not encased in shoes and boots.
The children did very little work at school. The most we did was to look out for the approach of an old man called Boyle. He lived out in the country, where he had a hops garden and he often came to the school. His visits were too frequent, especially when they were timed to coincide with meal hours,
When watermelons were ripe, unless a strict watch was kept over them, the owner might wake up in the morning, to find his or her crop of watermelons depleted. It was easier for a camel to go through a needle's eye than it was for a Maori boy not to steal watermelons. If a patch of watermelons happened to be near a road, melon thieves, armed with wooden lances, mounted their ponies at night and, after stabbing large melons with the lances, galloped away as fast as their horses could go, carrying the watermelons on their lances. To find your patch of watermelons, which you had tended for several months, robbed overnight was indeed exasperating, and yet Maoris as a rule regarded melon-stealing lightly and a melon-thief was never prosecuted. Only recently did I read in the press of a prosecution in the Police Court for melon-stealing and several elderly natives were surprised to hear of it.
After an old woman's crop of watermelons had been raided at night, all the boys in the village were called for an examination. An old man named Ihaia was
A more kindly and a more upright man than Sir Apirana Ngata.
I am complaining now of the inadequate wage of one boiled lolly, but in the good old days, it never entered our heads to grumble, for lollies were very rare. The one lolly was as good as a feast. It was not licked out of existence in one operation—it was made to last, if possible, until the next lolly was earned. A lick now and then was sufficient, and often the lolly was passed round to be licked by the younger members of the family, who were, unfortunately, not old enough to have joined the union of green-branch carriers.
This puts me in mind of a habit amongst the elders of passing round the pipe as we youngsters passed round the boiled lolly. Only clay pipes were in vogue then. After a Maori had been using a clay pipe for years, a semi circular groove was formed in his teeth, into which the mouthpiece of the pipe fitted. Old women stuck their clay pipes in the lobes of their ears as gay women put gold earrings in theirs. In The Story of a Maori Chief I relate the incident, how my grandfather and grandmother, after the capsize of their boat, swam for their lives, my grandmother landing with her precious clay pipe still between her teeth.
One incident in connection with the school I must place on record. All that the boys had to wear were shirts; trousers were a luxury in those days. Some of the shirts, having been inherited, were too long and impeded the movement of the legs, especially in running and jumping. During lunch hour a number of boys, some distance from the school, were having a keen competition in hop-step-and-jump. One boy, because his shirt interfered with his jumping, took it off. His example infected the others and, in a few minutes, half-a-dozen little boys were stark naked. For this lapse, each of them received cuts with the cane.
Mr. J. H. Pope, inspector, paid one visit to the school before it closed. I do not know what I learned at school, but at least I knew what a lake was in English. Mr. Pope held up a large piece of paper and, pointing at it said, "Land is here, land is there, and land is all round, what do you call the piece of water in the middle?" Nobody knew or understood, but I had an idea of what he was driving at, so, after some hesitation, I cried out, "Lake." I was correct and I have never forgotten my triumph.
That was my first meeting with
With the school closed, spring, summer, autumn and winter were one long holiday, for the children roamed everywhere, looking for peaches which were then growing wild, for kotukutuku or konini berries, and squeezing the sweet juice of the tutu.
I was a victim of tutu poisoning and I might have died from it. Our elders had not forgotten to warn us repeatedly against eating the kernel of the karaka and the fruit of the tutu, I was not ignorant, for my mother and I had often gone out to pick tutu berries tutu berries in abundance and ripe. While the others carefully strained the berries, I, out of sheer bravado, began filling my mouth with the delicious fruit and challenging my companions to see me "drop down dead." On our way home I felt queer and then I felt dazed. My companions and I had parted and there I was, like a drunken man trying to find my way home. I could hardly see when I was near our house. My mother found me looking underneath the house. By the purple marks on my lips she gathered at once that I had been poisoned with tutu. Then I lost consciousness. My father took me down for a dip in the sea and the cold water brought me round a little. He then lit a fire on which he put piripiri (native burr) and as it smoked he hung my face over the fire so that I might inhale the smoke. The treatment seemed to have done me good for I revived. For days I lay in bed feeling weak after my strange experience.
During hot weather, the children practically lived on the bank of the Awatere river. After being in the water too long, we rolled in the hot sand, as did our grand ancestor, Paikea After the sinking of Huripureita, of all Uenuku's sons, Paikea was the sole survivor. A taniwha in the form of a whale took Paikea on its back and brought him to Aotearoa, landing at Ahuahu. By rolling in the hot sand he revived himself. Paikea married Huturangi, a descendant of Toikairakau and the issue of the union is the Incantation.karakia
It never occurred to the reciter that the sun was severely impartial; that it shone alike both on the just as well as the unjust. Invariably the losers always murmured that the winner must have been sparing in his spitting.
When a mother appeared carrying a big stick in her hand, it was not then a case of imploring for mercy—there was only one thing to do, pick up your shirt, or even without it, and make a bee-line for home, there to await the tyrant and her big stick.
The opening of the Latris ciliaris.moki
The cooked fish was tapu and could be eaten only by the fishermen, even the mere woman who had been good enough to get things ready for them must be content to look on, although she had been fasting also. In their hunger and greed the men gorged themselves and entirely forgot the mere woman, even though she might be the wife of one of the eaters. Other fish which were not moki were not eaten, but were suspended on a tree as offerings to Pou, the god of fish. No other persons besides the fishermen should tread on the landing-ground and I have been compelled when riding along the beach to turn aside and pass the holy ground by some other way. I have always suspected that these rules were formulated by some greedy ancestor or hapu.
Fishing grounds belong to particular hapus and some of these fishing-ground-owning hapus are notorious for their stinginess. The Treaty of Waitangi recognises the claims of the Maoris to their fishing-grounds, even though these grounds may be outside territorial waters.
When rights under the
I have treated with levity the customs relating to moki, and some ethnologists would probably take exception to my remarks. If they do it is because they are superstitious themselves and lack a sense of humour.
I wish to insert here an account which I wrote some time ago of a Maori case over a dispute regarding the ownership of a fishing-ground a few miles south of
For years a serious dispute as to the tribal ownership of the Maunga-whio hapuku ground, seven miles off
The committee arrived on the scene on the day fixed, Whakatihi, with keen perception, took in, as it were at a glance, the whole situation, and practically arrived at a conclusion as to the ownership of the disputed hapuku ground. He observed that in the
Whetu-tawere, one of the elders of Ngati-Puwai, sprang to his feet and, poising his spear over his head, threatened to strike Whakatihi, who, unperturbed, cooly remarked, "E, e mate e au, e tangihia, e nehua," "If I should be slain, my death would be mourned and I would be given a decent burial," but "E mate e koe, e taona, e kainga," "But you, you would be killed and eaten."
The dispute was finally settled by both sides accepting the committee's judgment.
While we were living at A fabulous monster that lives in deep water.taniwhataniwha—I could almost feel myself being sucked into the monster's maw. My father came to the rescue and carried me to land. We could not put out to sea so we pushed the boat along the beach until we came to the mouth of the Karaka-tuwhero, where we were able to pull out. We arrived late at
The two elders and I planned another fishing expedition, and this time we went farther afield. When we rounded the
Pawa was the navigator of the canoe Horouta which the
In his pursuit of Rongokako, Pawa left behind him, near his "stingaree" his little daughter, Maroheia, and, on his return, found her petrified and clinging to a rock called Ihu-toto, and even today you may find remnants of the forsaken little maid still clinging to Ihu-toto.
In Hinetawhirirangi's well-known song, wherein she mourns the death of her relative, Hamaiwaho, who jumped into the sea in order to escape from his Ngapuhi captors when near the
It was probably the casting of Hamaiwaho on the rocks that suggested to the Maori lyric, Pawa's neglect of his daughter, Maroheia, which led to her death as she hugged Ihu-toto rock. The poetess, in a sense, blames herself also for the neglect of her relative whose body was found on the Rurima rocks, as Maroheia's was found clinging to Ihu-toto rock. The weaving of the idea of neglect into the two incidents, her neglect and Pawa's, is clever and displays high imaginative powers and a decided poetic turn of mind.
Maoris are fond of naming children with names
Maori mothers and grandmothers, in entertaining little children, delighted in telling stories of giants and giantesses, particularly of the latter. I don't know why they preferred giantesses, unless they considered them uglier and more wicked than giants. Giantesses are certainly, from all accounts, diabolical.
Let me give a brief, typical story of a giantess, told me by my own mother:
A little boy wanders into the forest and loses his way. After wandering about for a few days and subsisting on wild berries, he hears a peculiar noise, like the snorting of a wild horse. He looks for the cause of the noise and suddenly he espies a nanakia (ogre)—a terrible-looking giantess, whose gray dishevelled hair covers her rugged body, and who, with her long tapering fingernails, could pierce wild pigeons as they perched in the trees. The next day, curious to find out the home of the nanakia the boy climbs to the top of a high hill, from which he can survey the country around and find out his bearings. In the valley below he notices puffs of smoke rising above the trees. To investigate the mystery of the fire, he hurries down into the valley and, warily approaching a dark mass in the wood, he notices it to be a rocky cave from which the smoke is issuing, and by the fire with her back towards him and the gray hair covering her recumbent body and her long fingers pointing in a heap towards the back of the cave, the nanakia is fast asleep. Judging by the heap of fresh pigeon bones lying near the fire, the boy gathers that the giantess has devoured several pigeons nanakia should wake up too soon. As he nears the edge of the forest he hears the cracking of broken trees and the same unmistakable snorting he had heard the day before. He knows that the nanakia is after his blood. Instead of walking through the bush, the monster is stepping from tree-top to tree-top and gaining on him rapidly. He is now in the open and crossing a plain. He again hears the snorting. As the giantess snorts she throws her terrible fingers in front of her as though her little victim is within striking distance. The boy can almost feel the hot breath of the gigantic hag as she snorts and lurches forward. The boy now cries, "Te kohatu nei e matiti, matata!" ("O rock, split and crack"). It opens sufficiently to let him in and then closes. After travelling along the channel revealed by the opening, he comes to the surface, but the nanakia, bewildered by the boy's disappearance, is some distance behind. The race once more continues. When the nanakia is again within striking distance of her victim, the boy once more cries, "Te wiwi nei e, matiti, matata" (O rushes, split and crack.") As the rushes open out the earth opens also and the boy leaps into the opening and is safe once more. The nanakia, fearful lest she should be too near the abode of mortal man, stands and hesitates and then turns back to disappear into the dark and lonely forest.
The chief, Houkamau, my father and myself, spent a very enjoyable time in my father's life-boat at Whanga-a-rumia, near Lottin Point. It was the Ditremus aureus.maomaomatarau, about five feet in diameter and seven feet in depth, and stretched out on a supple-jack frame. About half-a-mile off shore we let down the net and, as it was being lowered we threw into it pieces of crayfish shell. It was most exciting to watch scores of the dainty fish swarm into the net after the bits of crayfish. As the net was pulled up I craned over the gunwale to see the small sparkling fish struggling and tumbling helplessly in the large meshed bag. After letting down the matarau two or three times we had caught enough fish for the day.
An elderly couple had ridden overland specially to cure the fish for us. They also acted as our cooks. The evening meal was eagerly looked forward to, for it consisted chiefly of broiled maomao. A green pointed stick was thrust through the fish and with the other end stuck in the ground it was bent over the embers. After being out at sea for hours, to watch a maomao sizzling over the fire and the juice running down the stick and falling into the fire, is most appetizing, and only those who have tasted broiled maomao could appreciate the deliciousness of the fish. In addition to the fish we had potatoes and kumaras roasted in the hot ashes, and, to wash down the fish and vegetables we drank pure, icy-cold water from a nearby mountain torrent.
The bush grew to the water's edge while pohutukawas grew on rocks and rocky banks. A little bay ran for chains past our camp into the bush. Wild honey was plentiful.
A period of sixty years has intervened since I visited that lovely spot although, I am afraid, all the virgin bush has been destroyed. Even so, the coves and caves must still be there, and the sea, and the maomao in the sea must still await one's pleasure. What a pity it is, we are too busy to claim nature's goodly gifts strewn at our feet.
A few years after, as a member of a whaling crew, I spent several months on this same coast. The whole coast was then still in its virgin loveliness. Besides the whalers' camp there was not a sign of human habitation. While the men were on the look-out for whales, it was my duty to look after the boat which was then moored to the rocks in a sheltered cove. The water was so clear that I could see a fish swallow my baited hook. In this way I provided fish for the evening meal. My father was the skipper of the boat, and although I was really too young, he had taken me as one of his crew. I had the stroke oar which was regarded as an unimportant position. Although for a boat to be fast to a whale was very dangerous, it was never my fortune to undergo the experience. Several times we got fairly close to as many as three or four whales, but never near enough to fasten on to one with the harpoon. That was all the whaling I ever did in my life, but I enjoyed the simple life immensely—sleeping at night in caves, catching fish, and even vainly chasing the monsters of the deep in the day-time.
There was dense bush everywhere during the years of which I write. I don't think there was one cleared acre of bush except where the people had their cultivations. Wants were very few. Sheep-farming and dairy-farming had not been thought of. After the crops of potatoes and kumaras had been gathered in, the only employment during the winter was fishing and hunting.
Shooting the wild pigeons was a popular business. Pigeons were found in large numbers everywhere and the natives did not spare them, for, like fish, they were one of their chief articles of food. The birds fed on the ti (cabbage tree), miro, kahikatea and hinau. Pigeons are most delicious when they are miro. It is my opinion that there is nothing more delicious than a fat wild pigeon. Maoris as a rule never open or clean a wild pigeon before cooking it and there is a very good reason for this practice, though strange it may sound. When a pigeon is opened it is found that the berries inside it are still fresh and their flavour has permeated every bit of the bird. A Maori would be quite indignant if he saw a fat pigeon cleaned before it was put into the pot.
Pigeon-snaring and piercing was an art in the old days, but in these days of guns, shots and powder, pigeon-shooting is downright business. I always went with my father on his shooting expeditions. At Takapuwahia we found hundreds of pigeons feeding on the berries of the ti (kouka). As'the berries cluster amongst the long leaves, the birds, with wings spread out, just flopped on the leaves. The noise they made with their wings was great, but it was nothing compared to the thunderous noise made by hundreds of birds on the wing after a shot had been fired, and the sky became darkened with them. Often a shot was fired into the flock of birds on the wing. The birds would only lift for a few minutes, then once more they would flop down to feed, and again a few of their number would be brought down. The destruction would be greater when half-a-dozen guns were at work. A shrewd native could fill a bag with pigeons without firing a shot by simply picking up dead or wounded birds at the edge of the bush. The sight of hundreds of pigeons feeding on the ti and then lifting in the sky was, to me, most exciting and, the little savage that I was, I never had the least compunction in regard to the shameless destruction of the beautiful wild pigeons, but that came in later years.
Friday afternoon was the time for leaving home so as to be near the bush. The camping ground was a small cave about eight miles up the Awatere river. The sportsmen, if they could be so designated, always allowed themselves sufficient time to secure a bird or two for the evening meal. The camp rule was one bird to every person, and even I had a whole bird allotted to me. Anyone who was unfortunate enough not to have secured a bird was given one. Only a hurried breakfast was had early on the Saturday morning, after which the party broke up into sections, each section going in a different direction. I always followed my father, my duty being to pick up and carry the birds. Late in the afternoon, all met again at the cave and together rode home satisfied with the day's shooting.
It was the custom at
The meeting-house, called Hinerupe, was not carved, but it holds for me very sweet memories. There, daily morning and evening prayers were read and on Sunday evenings a Bible Class was held. It was there that I first learned to like my Bible and my earliest religious impressions were then planted in my heart.
In the year 1938 the second Hinerupe was pulled down and a fully carved one took its place.
On Anzac Day of that year the third Hinerupe was
When, owing to ignorance and petty jealousy, a clique at
Though I am now an old man and my father died fifty-two years ago, one memory will ever be green in my mind, and that was the night we spent in the forest. When the hinau berries were ripe and falling to the ground the kaka (native parrot) was fattest. The bird descended to the ground to eat the fallen berries and became so fat and heavy that it could not fly from the ground. When disturbed it could only climb up a small tree or a supple-jack, and, to bring it to the ground, one had only to shake the tree or the supple-jack. All kakas, of course, were not as helpless as this. It was to shoot or catch the kaka that my father and I penetrated far into the forest at Tauri. Our expedition was so successful that nightfall found us still in the forest. After our evening meal, my father heaped up some dry, dead leaves on which we could lie. I crept close to my father and, turning my back to his so that I could face ghosts and wild animals if they should happen to come along, I gazed into the impentrable darkness. But for the cry of the morepork, perfect stillness tui and of the bell-bird heralded the dawn and dissipated all my childish fears and imaginations.
In early spring it was the habit of the kaka to fly about in large numbers. Because some have been found exhausted near the coast, the natives say the kaka, like the shining-cuckoo, is a migratory bird, and it is on its return to New Zealand that it is seen in large numbers. This view is, of course, incorrect. It is probable that a bird was blown out to sea by a strong gale and, in flying back to the land became exhausted. I have never troubled to find out why the kaka did fly about in large numbers and very often over grassy and bare hills where no berries could be found.
Snaring the kaka was a very fascinating practice. Strangely enough, my father did not take any interest in snaring the kaka, one reason, I suppose, was because at this season the bird was not in good condition. I generally accompanied Pepene on a kaka-snaring expedition. A prominent hill where a large tree grew was chosen as our base, and here a little hut of green branches was erected Just outside the hut, and between it and the tree, a perch was provided and tied to the perch was the decoy. As soon as a flock of kaka was seen, the hunter would imitate the cry of the bird and the flock, hearing this, would make for the tree. He at once concealed himself within the hut and urged the decoy to entice its unwary fellows to come nearer. A large flock filled the tree and in response to the invitation of the decoy, the more curious ones left the tree and alighted on the perch. The hunter adroitly snared one of the curious birds and pulled
Usually a flock of kaka had a leader, or manu-whakataka-pokai as it is called in Maori, and when its plumage was redish it was called kaka-kura. An experienced snarer always tried to catch the leading bird, for if he succeeded in doing that he could catch the whole flock for there would be no one to give the command to move on. A kaka-snaring spot was always regarded as private—it belonged to the family and for anybody else to use it without permission was to trespass.
A method by which I was fond of catching fish was by the use of the hinaki. The term is also used for the eel-pot. It was usually about eight-feet long by three-feet wide at its mouth and was conical in shape. The frame was covered with net made of flax. The entrance, which was suspended about half-way inside the pot, was also made of flax. The pot is placed in a long channel that runs out into deep water and it is then fastened with ropes to a bar laid across the channel and driven into the rocks. As the tide recedes, fish naturally get into the channel on their way out to sea and are thus caught in the hinaki. It was my pleasure to empty the pots and I have counted as many as half-a-dozen in one pot. It was a simple and cheap method of catching fish and of replenishing the family larder. Usually, of course, whenever there hinaki has fallen into disuse because people nowadays are much too busy and chiefly because poachers empty the pots at night time. I do not remember my fish-pots ever being interfered with when I was young.
I have said just now, we shared the fish with our neighbours, and, of course, our neighbours always returned the compliment whenever they were in a position to do so. An ancient law of the Maori—the law of aroha—is generosity. It is an astounding custom. Generosity is always regarded by the Maoris as one of the highest virtues—it is a characteristic of a rangatira, and the absence of it is a sign of the low-born. When carrying food like fish, birds or mussels, a Maori would rather wait for darkness before passing through a settlement. It is the correct thing to part with your best. For instance, you must give away the larger and fatter of two fishes. To give a neighbour a hog's head instead of a portion of the body is to insult him. A stranger is never refused hospitality. A chief would give up his bed to a visitor and lie on the hard floor. To place a poor meal before visitors is considered a disgrace.
I want to write a little about old Heremaia. He and his wife lived at Horoera, near
Before the time for sowing and planting arrived, when the little The grey warbler.riroriro's
It was generally known how often Heremaia went out at night to dive for crayfish so his guests would have a nice breakfast. There was heartfelt mourning when Heremaia passed away.
Before the Hauhau war broke out on the East Coast in 1865, the Maoris sowed wheat extensively. With the surplus wheat, the
When my family first went to
My father and another Maori, Reihana Moari, took a trip to Auckland by a vessel which called to take a quantity of maize. At Auckland they met
Captain Skinner sold the maize at Auckland and brought back goods for the Maoris. The people did so well that they began building weatherboard houses for themselves, and everybody was anxious to become a
I always admired Kaeo, the finest ship in the fleet, was wrecked in the islands, and the Aotea, with the loss of the crew, including
In summer, hundreds of the
For years, a feud was kept up between the
The contest was kept up for some years, until an old man stepped into the ring and stopped the inter-tribal fights.
Today, the The Story of a Maori Chief, much may be learned of the
When Mr. McMahon, the schoolmaster, and his wife left because the attendance at the school had so decreased that it was considered hardly worthwhile continuing it, only two white men remained in the district, but they also left soon after. The two were old Mr. Boyle, who had planted a hops garden at Tokata, and
When my father suggested that I might go with him to Gisborne, I was filled with joy. The local tribe had decided to call a big A gathering of any kind.huimoki and wild pigeons. It was, of course, necessary to procure a large quantity of shot and powder, if a large number of pigeons was required, and, to do this, a trip to Gisborne had to be undertaken. To ride there on horseback would take about a week and there was also the difficulty of
Early one morning we put out to sea, my father being in command of the expedition. I was still very young when I found myself actually on the way to Gisborne. I had heard much about the town from Maoris who annually visited A shell-fish, or mutton fish.kumaras and pauapaua more than I did that evening.
We started very early the next morning and there was promise of a fair breeze. While our boat was speeding along a flying-fish flew across our bow. The sight delighted me immensely as I had heard of flying-fish before, but this was my first glimpse of one. Later in life I learned the Maori saying: "He maroro kokoti ihu waka"—"the flying-fish that cuts across the canoe's bow"—signifying an unexpected obstacle to one's progress. Being young, of course, the incident meant nothing to me, but I think the elders expected some trouble that day. Another flying-fish was startled and it dropped into the boat. I watched the beautiful creature as it lay helpless before me. To see such a fish with pretty, delicate wings was a novel sensation. I handled it fondly and wished I could keep it for a pet. Off Tolaga Bay the wind increased considerably and now and then we shipped some water, but, with my father in charge of the boat, I was not
Off Gable End Foreland, or Pari-nui-te-ra, as it is called in Maori, the wind moderated, and by the time we entered manuka sticks stuck in the solid rocks and on the top of each stick was a kerosene tin, upside down and awry. I was told that these were beacons to guide boats entering or leaving the river.
By the way, the name Poverty Bay Herald (now the Gisborne Herald). The opponents of the name
The sight of a schooner tied to a wharf interested me
We turned up the Waikanae creek and landed at a small Maori settlement. It was some distance from the town and thick with sweet-briars. We camped here for fully a fortnight and the day after our arrival we went into town, this being my first experience of being "in town." I was delighted with everything I saw, but what delighted me most were the shops with large windows in which wares of every description were displayed to attract customers. In country stores there were no such windows; in fact, what were meant for windows were guarded like gaols with iron bars. The people who served in the shops were, I thought, perfection itself, with their charming manners and neat clothes. And the fruit shops!—I revelled in these. My father also introduced me to
We learned that permission to buy ammunition had to be obtained from Wellington and before this could be done we had to wait fully a fortnight. Naturally I did not regret the delay. With an indulgent father supplying me with money, I was as happy as the day was long.
It was on this visit to Gisborne that I first tasted butter, baker's bread and sausages. I dreamed about sausages in my sleep. It was an unkind pakeha who in later years disturbed that dream by remarking that he did not like sausages for he always liked to know what he was eating. As for bread and butter, I could not eat enough. The two articles are, in a figure of speech, regarded by the white people as the staff of life, but not so by the Maoris, as these articles were unknown in the early days.
Even today, the Maoris of Wairoa regard rohi (loaf, rohi, which they enjoyed as a great delicacy. On returning home they told the rest of the tribe what a wonderful food rohi was, and so impressed them about the quality of this rare food that it was decided to sell a block of land, Raua Block, at a price that would enable them to discard the common bread of their own baking and to buy the rohi of the pakeha. Of course, when all the money from the sale of the land had been spent, they had to return to their own bread and so had neither rohi nor the block of land—a calamity indeed!
With regret I bade farewell to Gisborne. Since that time I have visited all four main centres of New Zealand, as well as other towns; I resided for three years in Christchurch, and spent nearly a month in Sydney and
On the trip home from Gisborne, we camped at Cook's Cove, near Lockwood, who married a Maori woman and the progenitor of a well-known
We decided to camp in the cove which was on the mainland and took the opportunity to look for Cook's well. We found a small round hole cut into the rock over which water fell, and above the hole the word "Cook" was graven in the rock. According to Canon Stack, who as a boy visited the cove in 1842, the name "Cook" Read Canon Stack's description of the locality in Early Maoriland Adventures.
The Maori name for Cook's Cove is Opoutama. The whole locality, with its narrow passage, its precipitous little island, its cove and peculiarly shaped rocks standing out of the sea near the entrance to the passage, its isolation and wildness, was strikingly beautiful and romantic. I don't wonder why a wealthy sheep-farmer a few years ago tried very hard to persuade the natives to alienate the island to him.
Pourewa, like Opoutama, is historic, for here, in this fastness lived Hinematioro, the grandmother of mana was paramount throughout the whole of the East Coast.
The following morning we resumed our voyage and
With so much ammunition procured, a good slaughter of pigeons was assured. The hui was a great success because of the amount of pigeons and moki provided for the guests who attended in large numbers.
I shall now give an account of my second trip to Gisborne, if only for the purpose of showing the tedium and the difficulties of the overland route. My father and I undertook this journey on horseback and it took us four days to do it and that was considered quite good going.
My father had his doubts about taking me for the reason that I had not learned to ride. However, to be sure I could go, I at once began to learn riding. One day, when going through a simple lesson in horsemanship, I fell from my pony and though I was not hurt, I was much afraid lest my father might hear of my simple fall and so refuse to take me with him. I told some boys who witnessed my mishap to tell my father, should he inquire, that I came off the horse because it had shied. It was a lie, perhaps—a boyish lie—but I have never forgotten it.
The day we set out was cold, for a southerly wind was blowing. Along the Hautai beach, near
As I observed the ruggedness of the land behind
It has become a habit of mine on awaking in the morning, to step out on the high verandah, to admire the beautiful view that can be seen from there. In the foreground is a fresh green paddock, on the left is a wooded hill, on the right is another hill on which a lighthouse is situated. Beyond the green paddock is the broad Pacific Ocean, and to the right lies East Island. Overseas vessels pass fairly close to the island practically every day and night, but coastal boats pass between the island and the mainland.
Before reaching Rangitukia we rode over the highest point of the Kautuku hill, on which is a perfectly round tarn, where, centuries ago, Paikea found Hutu bathing in its still waters. It was Paikea who was rescued by a taniwha from drowning and brought on its back to New Zealand. To make a long story short, Paikea married Hutu and the issue from that union is the
We started out very early the following morning. We had to be ferried across the dangerous Waiapu in a canoe and our horses were towed behind. Our route— it could not be called a road—then followed the beach and was very rough in places. Often, where it was impossible to follow the beach, hills had to be climbed and usually we were unable to descend without first climbing practically to the summit—it was not just a matter of going over the brow of the hill. An example of this was our climb over Tawhiti Hill, between Waipiro and
We spent the night at Te Puka, the home of the loyal chief,
On the next stage of our journey, between
The next morning we again made an early start. Coming upon the
The Pakarae and Waiomoko rivers and the Pouawa and Turihaua streams were always dangerous when in flood. They could be forded only near their outlets to the sea. I once knew a promising young man who
We arrived at Gisborne on the fourth day. We both had fine horses and had been fortunate in regard to the weather. Had it rained we might have been delayed for days or even weeks. The above is an account of the East Coast main road over seventy years ago.
At that time, Cook County included what are now Uawa, Waiapu and Matakaoa Counties. When Waiapu County was instituted road facilities began to improve and an enterprising firm inaugurated a coach service. This service had a very up and down career and was finally run off the road by the introduction of a motor service. I have said that my father and I took four days to ride from
Before returning home my father and I attended the races. I had been to Maori races at home, but this was my first experience of big racing and all its glamour. The race-course was at the "Island" near Waerenga-a-Hika. There was a very large crowd and the day was delightfully fine. The ladies paraded in their pretty frocks, but what most took my fancy was the brightly coloured costumes of the jockeys. The racehorses were the most beautiful that I had ever seen. Used as I was to seeing the mongrels on the coast, I had had no idea that horses could be so beautiful.
On our way to Gisborne we passed a Maori mounted on a fine-looking horse. He was wearing riding breeches and Wellington boots and I guessed that he was a shepherd for he dismounted to pull a sheep out of a drain. I believe that the adjacent land was then in the possession of a Maori, and this dandy was his shepherd. It was many years after this incident that I again met the same man in a Maori pa. Gone were the splendid riding-breeches and gorgeous
A little further down the road, at
Later on in life, I came to know intimately
I accompanied my father and others to hui,
The "Heni" had turned over six miles from
I have often wondered why my father left
It was my father's foresight and superb seamanship that brought us through. It was old Tatari who advised me, after he had finished a boat for me, never to put out to sea when the weather was uncertain, but, when overtaken by bad weather out at sea, to keep one's head and fight for one's life.
East Cape is notoriously rough. I can think of half-a-dozen wrecks that have happened there. My brother Henry, who now lies in a foreign land, saved the sole survivor of the scow Whakapai and for his bravery was awarded the bronze medal of the Royal Humane Society. The ketch Sir Henry turned over off
Te Rangitaukiwaho, a chief, was strongly advised not to put out to sea, for the moon was in its The fifth night of the moon. Literally, to saw, as the bow of a canoe cuts into the sea.takiraukanitakirau. He and all his crew perished when sailing off the notoriously dangerous Tauhinu Point, off Tokararangi reef, and a child which was born later was given the name
In the second chapter I said that I first went to school at
It was arranged that I should attend the Wai-o-Matatini school and that I should stay with a family at Te Horo. Tuta and Maraea were exceedingly kind to me. My father supplied flour, which at the time was not in general use among the Maori people, so I always had bread for my lunch, but without butter. All the other children of the pa had potatoes baked in hot ashes. The potatoes were strung together and hung over one's shoulder. During the lunch-hour the children went into the scrub to cook the potatoes and there would often be a number of fires burning at the same time. A stick was pushed through several potatoes and one end of it was stuck into the ground so that it slanted over the fire. I immensely enjoyed this mode of cooking and often exchanged my bread for some potatoes thus cooked. The only children who had bread and butter were those from the small white settlement at
Although I enjoyed going to school and Tuta and Maraea were exceedingly good to me, after a while I began to be homesick. So homesick did I become that often, on the way home from school, I would ascend a little hill from which I could see the Pukeamaru Range, for somewhere in that vicinity was my home. Finally, my father had to take me home to
Wai-o-Matatini was one of the earliest schools, if not the earliest, on the East Coast. About the year 1876 a school was established at
Published in Te Wananga by
When I returned home,
All such stories increased my wish to go to
I found Napier to be an improvement on Gisborne. My first trip on the railway was, of course, an unforgettable experience. As the train sped past the college, handkerchiefs were fluttered from the windows to signal that pupils were arriving. At the Pukehou siding, we found boys awaiting our arrival. Our heavier luggage was put into a hand-cart and behind it we formed a small procession. The college was about a mile from the siding and as we drew near the outer gate I noticed an old-fashioned house on the left, amid tall trees. I afterwards learned that it was the home of
I first met
After prayers I was ushered into a long dormitory where I noticed how scrupulously clean everything was and how neatly the beds were made. The white clean sheets and quilts shone in the candle-light.
As the bathroom was not large enough for the eighty pupils in residence, the boys got up in batches, the first batch getting up at six o'clock. Morning prayers were read in the schoolroom at seven o'clock, and, after prayers, a breakfast consisting of tea with bread and dripping was had.
After breakfast,
The next morning about ten of us rejects, all from the East Coast, left for Gisborne. On arrival, I was very glad to see my father who, fortunately, had not then left for home. I say that I was very glad to see him, but he was sadly disappointed upon seeing me perhaps because whatever hopes he might have entertained in regard to my future had been dashed to the ground by my appearance. My poor father! But he did not give in. He decided to leave me in Gisborne to attend the central school which several other Maori children
My attendance at the Gisborne Central school for a year and a half was really the turning point in my life. Even then a man was so unkind as to tell me that I was too old to learn anything and that my best plan would be to go home and look for a wife.
Paora Parau was a fine-looking old man. He was fully tattooed but always dressed like a European and was always neat. His son, Epiha, was also a fine specimen, well-educated and moved in the best pakeha circles. Unfortunately, he later got into bad company and was led astray, his beautiful wife being broken-hearted over the sad incident. They both died soon afterwards.
During my sojourn in Gisborne I learned much more than the three R's—I learned other things which I would not have learned had I gone home. For instance, I learned to cook and to wash up, something that I was never permitted to do at home. As there were two of us in the house who were attending school, it fell upon us to get up early in the morning to light the fire and prepare the breakfast. Fortunately, there were no cows for us to milk.
On the first morning, my father himself took me to the school where I met
I was first put into the infant school, although I was by no means an infant. The headmistress, Miss
Among some Maori boys who attended the school were
Only once did my father come to the school to see me. He took the trouble to bring me a kitful of kao or dried kumaras, and also brought my pony, Karakara, and later sent my little model boat to me by Skinner's schooner. I think somebody must have told my father that I was making good progress with my lessons for he seemed very pleased. He gave me his Rotherham watch which I mention here because I later had the sad experience of losing it. I was wearing a shirt into the pocket of which I had placed the watch without
Every Sunday, a number of students from Te Rau Theological College came to take divine services in the old church. I enjoyed their hymn-singing, especially that of Te Pipiwharauroa, which, in later years, chronicled the life and death of
I must mention Mr. Davis, the ferryman. He was a rough old chap who kept a firm hand over the children who needed his services. In the morning we had to be down on the Kaiti side of the river on time, and the same applied to our arrival on the town side in the afternoon, for if one of us was late he would miss that trip and would then have to wait until another passenger arrived before being taken across. As a rule, the children were punctual on their way to school in the mornings, but on their way home, after school, there was always trouble with the boys. From a boy's point of view it was the right, or perhaps the excusable, thing to be late. How could a boy hurry away from his after-school game or rush through the town without a
When I got the "sack" at
Davis was a tyrant, but he was also a fine disciplinarian, and, although we hated him, I must confess that it was he who impressed on my mind the importance of being punctual. But, nevertheless, when you come to think of it, punctuality is not everything, is it? Just think how much is missed on a country roadside because our every step is timed. Recently we—my cousin and I—divided time into two categories—pakeha time and Maori time. We have found that there is something to be said for Maori time which really means any time.
A Native Minister, hardly a month ago, was timed to arrive at the carved meeting-house at
"What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare? A poor life this if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare."
Ultimately, a time came and we had our revenge on old Davis. The Gisborne Borough Council resolved to span the
Before I close this account of my days at the Gisborne Central School, I must say something about my first circus, which was St. Leone's. I was dumbfounded to see two horses with a man standing with one leg on the rump of each horse, galloping around the ring with more horses in front. I was in a seventh heaven. I did not know that anything could be so grand. I was spell-bound and felt that I would give anything to be that gorgeously-clad rider. Then there was the dog race—real dogs ridden by real monkeys decked in bright robes. I looked on, amazed. The clowns playing the fool in
Many years passed and then a circus came to
In 1887 I again tried to get into
Because I was a big boy—I was sixteen years of age —I was put into the third standard. I still had not mastered the English alphabet. Whenever I tried to pronounce the word "lord" I pronounced it "rod," much to the amusement of my classmates and the neighbouring two classes. This went on for days, but at last I conquered the word. Of the arithmetic set for my class, I had no more idea than had the man in the moon, so I used to watch the boy next to me do his sums. It was a good thing for me that the teacher did not pull me up for copying, for I was not actually copying, but
During my five years at
Although I was good at all subjects I was particularly fond of English and I remember Mr. Dunn, our master, commending me to the whole college when he discovered that I possessed a large and well-bound Webster's Dictionary. He wished me success with it. I think I may say that for whatever knowledge of English I may now have, I owe much to Mr. Dunn. I have forgotten all else I learned at school and at college, but English literature and English poetry remain as one of the chief solaces of my life. I have always maintained that English is one of the chief subjects that young Maoris must concentrate on. Apart from the accomplishment, it is the key to all other subjects, for with a good knowledge of English one is able to continue one's education to the end of one's life.
It is remarkable how well
Mr. Thornton was not a university graduate, but he
Sir Apirana Ngata,
I have been told again and again that there has never been a generation of
Mr. Thornton was a man of firm religious faith. I always enjoyed his evening talks on religion and his sermons in the village Church on Sunday evenings. I well remember the rage Mr. Thornton got into when a clergyman read the Commination Service. It was the first and only time I ever heard such a service read, so perhaps Mr. Thornton's wrath was justified. Good Friday was observed by the college only in the morning. The Venerable Archdeacon Samuel Williams and his family were also evangelical, as were their missionary forbears, so the religious atmosphere of the whole settlement was decidedly evangelical. I considered the religion I learned then sufficient, and I did not want anything external to augment it in the way of forms, ceremonies, and such.
Mr. Thornton was also an out-and-out teetotaller. This was a very important point in his character and must have had a great influence over the boys. Accustomed as they were to drunken scenes in the pas, meeting a white man, who never touched strong drink and who was the headmaster of a well-known college, must have been a wholesome lesson to them.
Mr. Thornton was a simple man in all his ways and tastes, was always plainly but neatly dressed and there was nothing of the Epicure about him. He had one aim in life and that was to conduct his life as a model to the boys under his care. He inculcated in their minds the elementary rules of health; for instance, never to sit or lie on damp ground; he also taught them never to wear damp clothes or boots, to avoid draughts, to be careful with money, and numerous other things necessary to remember. All ray life I have endeavoured to avoid lying on damp ground, and have been blest with good health, for which I think I must, to some extent, thank Mr. Thornton, He did not give us any set
During my long life I have had many controversies with people on the subject, "What is the Noblest Calling or Profession?" Most people, of course, maintain that either the medical profession or the clerical profession is the noblest. I maintain that the teaching profession is the noblest and I am usually hauled over the coals, but I still maintain that view. My concrete example of the nobility of the teaching profession is Mr. Thornton. The teacher moulds the character of the child and he also moulds the body and leads the mind to appreciate the aesthetic. A doctor may repair a broken limb, a parson may mend a broken character, but the teacher moulds them both.
Mr. Thornton could never stand lounging about or putting one's hands in one's pockets. When he sent a boy to fetch something, the boy had to either run or step it out, but could not drag his feet. I often heard him ask a boy after the class had shown him its work, "Rangi, why must you always be the last." I suppose he even knew that boys might develop inferiority complexes. Constantly, in season and out of season, he watched the boys with a fatherly care and took every opportunity to teach and guide them to useful and good lives.
The boys revered Mr. Thornton and among themselves always referred to him as "Jack," as though he were one of them. In private company Mr. Thornton was jovial and entertaining and boys felt perfectly at home with him.
Before coming to New Zealand, Mr. Thornton was headmaster of a mission school in India, and his appointment to the headmastership of
When I found myself established at
The boys did all the work in the college except laundry work and scrubbing the bedrooms, this being done by maids. Washing the sheets and clothes was also done by the boys under the supervision of the matron. The most coveted position was that of assistant masters' waiter, for this flunkey was permited to eat what was left on the table. The college meals were not appetising, and I often yearned for the varied meals of home. The food was, however, wholesome, and the boys certainly thrived on it.
During the football season boys became very hungry and enjoyed their simple meal of tea and bread and butter. If a boy wanted more pieces of bread he indicated the number by the fingers he put up. It was by no means unusual to see a boy with all his fingers up, and there would often be a competition to see who could eat the most pieces of bread at one meal.
As a rule, boys who came from a distance and who could not afford to go home for the winter holidays, stayed at the college, but those who, like myself, had friends in Sowthistle.puha
During the winter-holidays I led two expeditions and was a member of two others. The first expedition I joined was to discover the vegetable caterpillar. I had heard of this extraordinary object but was somewhat skeptical about its existence. Our field of exploration was known as Tatham's Bush and we found this, though not extensive, still intact. As we entered the bush we had a feeling of great adventure and of curiosity, perhaps somewhat akin to the feelings Jason experienced as he approached the little bush in which was the Golden Fleece, the difference here being that we were spared the dragon's teeth and the ferocious dragon. Our trusty guide looked confident and we felt hopeful. After wandering about the bush and closely studying its floor, the guide called out, "Here's one!" We all rushed towards him. His finger was pointed at a little plant sticking out of the ground, then with his knife he dug around the growth and gradually unearthed the perfectly shaped body of a caterpillar. It was about two inches in length and the growth which looked like its tail was just as long. We found about half-a-dozen which we carried home in triumph.
I led the next expedition myself during the Easter holidays, and its object was more ambitious than vegetable caterpillar-hunting, for it was no less than the scaling of one of Ruahine's snowy peaks. We allowed ourselves just a week and, if favoured with fine weather, might just manage to achieve our objective. We carried everything, provisions, equipment, etc., on our backs. Our first camp was near the cave at Groome's
We started early next morning and crossed the Ruataniwha Plain which, after the luxuriant growth of the English grass we had been accustomed to seeing at
We really did bestir ourselves early the next morning. None of us knew the country so we were, in a sense, resorting to blind flying. Undaunted, we entered the forest and for hours we worked our way up the steep spur. We had made good progress by lunchtime, for which meal we had only bread and butter. After lunch, we had only travelled a few chains when we came upon a deep gully which lay between us and the snow-capped ridge. We were debating whether to descend into the gully or to follow the ridge for some considerable distance further, when the sky suddenly darkened and rain began to fall. We sheltered under some large trees but as there seemed little prospect of the rain ceasing and as our supply of food was running low, I gave the order to retrace our steps. We had no compass and in the darkness of the forest we lost all sense of direction. By a stroke of luck we struck a survey line which we followed until it brought us to a grassy opening where, to our delight, we saw a hut. It was, by this time, almost dark. A lonely shepherd gave us a hearty welcome. He had just baked a large loaf in a camp-oven and he offered it to us for our tea. We were famished and finished the whole loaf. The
During the mid-winter holidays I led a walking expedition over a large portion of
Te Aute College is famous throughout Australasia for rugby football, and
One outstanding incident during the tour still lingers in my memory. We were on the balcony of a hotel at Masterton when an elderly Maori in the crowd below addressed us, the burden of his remarks being a criticism of
Before my admission to This lake derived its name from the same Tara after whom Whanganui-a-Tara or
The name Karetai is easily recognised as one of the greatest in the Maori history of the
Roto-a-Tara is itself a celebrated name, and the little island near the eastern shore of the lake is of particular interest. Peach trees once grew on the island and human bones could once be seen lying about. Its name, Peach Island, was a natural adoption. When the peaches were ripe, of course, boys, having no scruples, used to eat and enjoy them, but the old Maoris regarded the island as tapu, and this also meant that the peaches should not be eaten. When young Karetai
Both the lake and the island have since disappeared for, due to the enterprise and engineering skill of
It was to the little island that Pareihe and other See Chapter I.
While I was attending the college an old man, who lived at Wiwipatiki on the shore of the lake, asked me if I was a descendant of Kakatarau and, on being told I was, showed great interest in me. At that time I did not know the reason that prompted the question but I learned that later.
The little island in Roto-a-Tara was also the home of Whatuiapiti, the grand-ancestor of the
I cannot conclude this chapter without paying tribute to some of the people whom I learned to respect and adore during my sojourn at
I first saw and heard the
Apart from taking a service in Maori once a week at the college, the Archdeacon had no other means of coming in contact with the students of the college of which he was founder. Not until many years after I had left the college were boys occasionally invited to tea at "the House," a name by which the Archdeacon's home was familiarly known. When I later joined the college staff, I found more freedom to go across to "the House" where I always received a welcome. When I attended
When a religious revival took place in the college, its results were far-reaching: One or two of the senior boys decided to surrender their lives to God. They began holding prayer meetings and reading their Bibles. When Mr.
It was as a result of this revival that the Young Maori Party was launched and bands of students tramped the country, preaching the Gospel and social reform. Though there were a few who tried to damp the ardour of the young reformers, other helped them as much as possible. It was to help these young enthusiasts and to show sympathy with them that the "open door policy" was adopted both at
At first, a Christian Endeavour Association was formed in the college and this ultimately merged with
When Mr. Thornton asked me to join the teaching staff of
I was given a private room and, as I sat at the master's table, I could not help taking a mental review of my life and, though I felt quite pleased, I was disappointed that my father, who had done so much in giving me a good education, had died in 1886 and was thus unable to share my satisfaction.
I rather enjoyed my work and felt glad that I was at last earning my own living. Mr. Thornton one day congratulated me for the progress my classes were making, but I always felt that he did not like my being on friendly terms with people outside the college. There were people who thought that Maoris should be kept in their place and to show them too much kindness would spoil them. The kindness shown to me by many white families who received me into their homes remains with me as a guiding star for which I am profoundly thankful. I realize they showed much interest in me because I was a humble follower of Jesus Christ.
In my second year as a teacher at the college I was not very happy. Mr. Thornton, in a very officious manner, sent me a note which said that the headmaster had seen me sitting down with my legs crossed and that I had mispronounced the name Hooker. It made me feel quite uncomfortable for I did not know it was wrong to sit down with legs crossed; and as to the pronunciation of Hooker, I wondered how on earth I was
I also often rode on my bicycle to Tuahiwi and was on many occasions accompanied by young white friends. I was once asked by the Presbyterian clergyman at Kaiapoi to preach in his pulpit and I consented to his request. Not long after this,
As a matter of fact, I found myself in great demand and spoke at many meetings of various kinds, Church meetings, prohibition meetings and I once spoke at an annual meeting of the weka having almost fed out of his hand. Years later, he visited the same spot and found that the conduct of the birds and animals had changed, even his friend the weka gave him a wide berth. They had learned in the meantime that man was a beast! I was tickled by the bishop's metaphor and I have never forgotten it, though in all probability the bishop has by now forgotten all about the meeting and his brown seconder.
To follow an orator like
It was my habit to saunter down to Cathedral Square to listen to soap-box orators. I found the prohibition advocates the most interesting, particularly that unique character,
I was one of the delegates from the Canterbury Christian Union who went to attend a conference in Sydney. It was my first trip from the shores of New Zealand. We had a pleasant trip across the Tasman and I looked forward with pleasant anticipation to seeing Sydney and its famous harbour. The harbour was beautiful, but it struck me that it looked more like a crack in the coast-line, and was very different from the Waitemata harbour in the picturesque
I found that my friend,
I saw as much of Sydney as I could and visited the royal mint, the museum, some Chinese factories where I saw the chopsticks being used,
As I write these words, my friend, the charming Bishop of Aotearoa, accompanied by a Maori choir of young people, is in Sydney where he has been invited to attend the one-hundredth anniversary of the death of the great missionary,
My guide and I returned to Sydney from Parramatta in a little boat which was loaded with peaches for the Sydney markets.
I rode also out to
I went with a number of friends to Katoomba, in the
I went everywhere inspecting the sights of the
The Deck family were very good to me—they could not do enough for me.
Mr.
When, for three years, I was resident in Christchurch,
The only Anglican family I had the pleasure and privilege to know in Christchurch was Mrs. Grant's, and I met them again later in Napier.
I have indeed been rich in the number of my friends. It is, I know, for His sake that they show interest in me.
I was at Christchurch when Mr. J. R Mott, organiser of the World's Student Christian Federation, arrived. He was accompanied by Mrs. Mott. When we said good-bye to them on the Lyttelton wharf we knew we were wishing godspeed to two of the greatest people in the Christian world.
As a result of Mr. Mott's visit, a Christian Union was formed in
We wanted better premises and I wrote a letter to
I went to
All the learning I have had has been of little material benefit to me, but other people might have made more use of it. For instance, I applied for the headmastership of the Waerenga-a-Hika school and was refused. I was teaching at Te Rau College at that time, but I wanted to teach boys, not men.
I have suffered injustices nearly all my life and have struggled to keep a large family clothed and fed and to give them a good education. In spite of it all, with faith in the fatherhood of God and with a mind attuned to face troubles, I have led a happy life. My mind has been so trained that there is hardly a subject that I cannot grasp intelligently or explain to others. I am an optimist, and I thank God for that blessing. The homes of uneducated people are monotonously dull.
I have learned also to concentrate on whatever I am doing; speaking is no effort to me for I am never at a loss for something to say. I state all this, not to brag, but to show those who may be interested in knowing what education has done in
I should not attribute all this to mere college education, for that is only a gateway to the higher college of the world. I have been very fortunate in my friends, especially in my pakeha friends. If there is anything worthy in me I owe it to them, to their sympathy and to their love. Alas, except for one or two, they are all gone.
Lastly, whatever sort of Christian I may be, life without religion and faith would, to me, be desolate and meaningless. Truly, "man liveth not by bread alone."
When I left Canterbury College, before completing my B.A. degree, I was appointed assistant tutor at Te Rau Theological College. The principal was the
When the Rev.
While teaching, I also studied for the Grade Examination and passed the Fourth Grade. This examination was by no means an easy one, so it is a credit to the college and to Mr. Chatterton that four others besides myself passed the examination. The others who passed were
Mr. Chatterton commenced his career as a bank clerk and later took holy orders. He was vicar of the parish of All Saints, Nelson, before he was appointed principal at Te Rau College. He always evinced the greatest interest in the Maori people and even a week or two before he passed away at Tauranga, he expressed, in a letter to me, the wish that, if he were ten years younger, he would once more work among the Maoris.
Mr. Chatterton was an able teacher and scholar, a fact which many people would not suspect. That many of his students passed the Grade Examinations was testimony of his abilities as a tutor. He was exceedingly popular wherever he went or worked. Although he was evangelical in his creed he was quite broadminded.
When Mr. and Mrs. Chatterton went to England on leave, the locum tenens, but before the college re-opened he was drowned while bathing at Waikanae beach. Archdeacon H. W. Williams was appointed to take charge of the college and this meant that I had to do most of the work by myself. After teaching all week and preaching oh Sundays, by the end of the year I was thoroughly fagged out. I could not trust myself to sit down in the lecture room for the fear that I should fall asleep. So tired was I, and so anxious to get away for a rest, that, when the college closed for the summer holidays I walked out of the lecture room, out of the college gates and stepped into the gig in which my wife was waiting, and we immediately drove to Whangara, fifteen miles up the coast.
Due to the fine type of men we had to train, I found work at the college very absorbing. Every Sunday, students went in many directions to conduct services at various settlements, Mr. Chatterton and I also taking our full share in these duties. I usually concluded the day by taking an English service in the
I considered the work at Te Rau important and even today I look back on my thirteen years at the college as the best work in my life. Today, in many parts of New Zealand, there are clergymen who were once my pupils. The first and only Maori Archdeacon, and one of the two Maori Canons, are both old pupils of mine. Surprise was expressed on all sides when
When the movement to appoint a Maori bishop was afoot the Maori clergy in the Auckland diocese unanimously decided to nominate me for the position although I was not then in active service. I was told later that when these clergymen sought information from the East Coast they were informed by somebody, who should have known better, that nobody cared for me. When I received the letter asking for my consent to the nomination, I felt humbled, but at the same time was pleased that my old pupils thought their old tutor worthy of the high position of bishop. I, of course, declined the offer.
I have always felt that no honour that man could confer on me could ever be greater than the fact that I am descended from distinguished ancestors.
When I became editor of Te Pipiwharauroa, I at once attacked, with much zeal, tohungaism in all its various forms. I was fully convinced that it was all humbug and said so, and, naturally, for this attitude, those who believed in it, disliked me. I was uncompromising in that attitude.
In the year 1922, by the decision of the bishops, Te
Among the numerous friends of the students in
A sad incident happened during my residence at the college. A number of the students put out to sea in a dinghy. Not one of them was a boatman or had any idea of the habits of the sea. A southerly gale had been blowing and, though the sea looked smooth, there was a swell running in. The students, instead of pulling out into deep water, sailed too close inshore, and, as they pulled across a reef, the sea rose up and
At this time several Maori boys had come to Gisborne to work. Some were employed in offices and others were engaged in trades, and, to assist them, they were permitted to board at the college. I do not think any of those boys continued long in their jobs. I do not blame them altogether, for they probably found it was impossible to make ends meet.
A letter from an old Te Pipiwharauroa. It was a very pathetic letter, telling of the terrible time they had endured in Auckland until they found it was impossible to carry on with the small earnings they received. The writer died soon after penning the letter.
I have not been an advocate of employing young Maoris in cities, either in the professions or at trades. A Maori could never compete in business with a pakeha or a Chinaman. It was not the life of his ancestors. Further, I also do not think a Maori could compete with a pakeha in a profession unless he be brilliant. A doctor, to be able to progress, must go out of New Zealand for further training. I do not know of any Maori who has been successful in a profession. The open life is the life for a Maori, not the cramped town life. We must ever remember that, though man made the town, it was God who made the country.
I tried to put by as much of my salary as I could, in view of marriage. A Maori, as a rule, never worries about providing a decent home into which to take his bride, his policy being to find a wife first and the house can look after itself. I am, in a sense, eccentric.
During the visit to Gisborne of Lord Ranfurly, there
Both my wife and I were of some standing in our own tribes and the correct thing, therefore, was to hold a big feast to which anybody could come and eat as much as he could and could carry away as much as he liked, and when the wedding was over the young couple would have nothing with which to start life. To carry on my eccentricity, we decided our wedding should take place in the Holy Trinity Church, Gisborne, and that "the breakfast" should be a simple one.
In one of
We lost our second baby, a beautiful boy. My wife was much distressed over the child's illness and death. She had tried everything she knew and had even implored me to call in a second doctor, but it was too late. I mention this sad event in our united life because, now, with experience, we can see that we need not have lost our child for the matter was just a summer trouble but we did not then know how to stop it. Infant mortality among my people is great. I hailed with all my heart, therefore, a measure which the Labour Government has introduced in New Zealand, that of providing mothers with free medical service. Could anything be more Christian?
We—my wife, two children and myself—severed our connection with Te Rau College when we shifted to
On our arrival at
In the previous chapter I said that, whilst lying sick in hospital, the "call of the wilds" came to me. I literally obeyed that call, for I took my family from Gisborne, from a comfortable little home, to the fastness of
In our home, only a small cottage, were three families, but it was not really poky and was well ventilated. Our bed was separated from the rest of the household by means of a tent-fly. Since this house was built with timber from a wreck, it might truly be said of us, as was said of the Peggotty family in Dickens's story, that we lived in a wreck. Nevertheless, even with the slight discomforts, I was very happy to be near my mother, my sister and my brothers.
By "the call of the wilds" I do not, of course, mean it to be taken in the literal sense; it means that, after a man has been educated and enlightened, he goes back to the old conditions under which he was weaned. Many a Facilities are now provided to enable Maoris to enter training college.
Take my own case. Should I have "gone to the mat" or answered "the call of the wilds"? Or should I have looked for a job in a town, married a white girl, and lived the life of a pakeha, cut off from my own people? This is the alternative.
I have tried, I have yearned, to do more for my Maori people, yet all the time, placed as I am, I feel cramped. I have been driven into this position and accept it as God's will for me.
After my father's death in 1886, my mother and her family moved to Rangitukia where my father had had the foresight to build a cottage. Before dying, my father asked my mother not to leave my grandfather Read The Story of a Maori Chief.
She decided to go back to
Our arrival at
After years in pursuit of pakeha knowledge and of wandering, I have now returned to
At Te Araroa there was no parsonage where we might live, even had there been I could not have stayed for my purpose in returning home was to establish a home for my children on my own paternal ground.
I had seen the
I had always thought that the best way to teach a primitive people like the Maoris was by example, not only in spiritual things but also in secular. All my life I have taught that the Christian cannot divide his life into two sections, religious and secular, for every act of a Christian must be Christian. I have always endeavoured to live such a life. I have struggled; I have suffered; I have triumphed; and I have rejoiced.
As I have already stated, we took up our abode at nikau leaves, and the chimney, the inside of which was lined with sod to prevent it from catching fire, was built of timber. It remained our kitchen for the few years I struggled to complete the house. The weatherboards and the studs of the house were pit-sawn. To bring this timber out of the bush to the site, it had to be sledged to the top of a hill, let down on a wire to the bottom on the other side, and finally sledged again over very rough and slippery rocks. The rest of the timber was obtained from a wreck. I employed two carpenters to finish the inside of the house and to make bedsteads and wardrobes, but before the carpenters came, with the help of a native carpenter, I had completed the bathroom and a large scullery. With its porcelain bath and hot water service, we found the bathroom exceedingly useful, some of the children having hot baths two or three times a week. When the house was completed, it was a very delightful sight, its white walls and red roof contrasting beautifully with the green paddock in the front and the wooded hills at the back and on either side. My wife was very happy and at night she and I would often go outside to gaze at our home glistening in the moonlight. Without exception, every visitor admired our place and a director of education once called it a paradise.
When the Young Maori Party was inaugurated I read a paper, entitled "A Model Pa," at one of its conferences. In the paper I visualised a model native settlement, the houses of which were built with split whares. A few years later I saw those very homes being replaced by modern houses and I do not think you could now find a paling home in any East Coast settlement other than camps. On this coast there are many native homes which have every modern convenience.
I found my headquarters were at the extreme eastern end of my pastorate and this was the most roadless part in the area. It promised hard horseback riding. I had not come home to take a parish, but to establish my family. However, I made up my mind to do my best under these difficult conditions. What rendered my task, and, I may say, my lot, more difficult was the smallness of my stipend, being only £75 a year. On that amount I was expected to bring up a family decently, keep a modern home and gratify cultured tastes. It was a problem and a problem that ultimately led to my resignation. I was earning £75 a year, while men whom I had trained were earning about twice that amount.
Some hapless reader of these memoirs may remark, "There you are! That's what college has done for you: It has unsuited you for your life." My life! Was this to be without a good home, without cultured tastes, without the pleasure of books, without the faculty to criticise? I would rather live on shellfish and edible sea-weed than live without the attainments of which I now can boast. It was my desire to set an example, not from a pedestal, but by living amid and rising above the difficulties that others were meeting.
It was my habit on a Saturday to ride out to the settlement at which I was to preach on the Sunday. I often stayed with my father's old friend, Houkamau, at
Tides, tidal creeks and flooded rivers were always the same. I arrived at the Awatere River one evening to find that it was in high flood but, on inquiring at a nearby home, I was told that people had been crossing the river all day and that it was perfectly safe to cross. I took another look at the river and past experience convinced me that it would not be safe to attempt a crossing.
It was so un-Maori to urge a visitor to pass on instead of inviting him inside. I invited myself into the home and was given a cup of tea and a dry hard biscuit. I soaked the biscuit in the tea and enjoyed the frugal meal. At this very time, the dead body of a boy who had been drowned while attempting to cross the river higher up, was being carried down in its raging waters. There was a Mourning for the dead.tangi
My wife and I once rode out early in the morning to attend a wedding at which I was to officiate. We found that the sea was running into the mouth of the Orutua creek, so, as a precaution, we double-banked on my horse which was higher than my wife's. As we picked our way across the slippery rocks two waves washed right over the saddle and we received a thorough soaking. We had to dry our clothes before we could proceed but the wedding was held though the inevitable feast was rather overcooked.
I found the riding rather strenuous during the period of the First World War, when my two brothers were away at the front. My brother-in-law had died, and the work of looking after our little station fell entirely on my shoulders. As we had no shearing-shed, our sheep
Another year I took my sheep to Rangitukia. Matters went smoothly, but the arrangement caused me much work and inconvenience.
Though poor Henare died at the war, the return of my other brother, Tawhai, was a great relief to me.
As I could not leave Kate and our small family by themselves in such a lonely spot as
One night, Kate, a friend and myself left
The wind was once blowing with such terrific force that my horse refused to face the pelting sand, so I had no option but to take the saddle off and let him go.
I had to travel on weekdays to take funerals and to officiate at weddings. Though I did not charge or receive money for funerals, I did expect a small token at weddings.
To supplement my meagre stipend we had to grow potatoes, kumaras, maize, pumpkins and other small vegetables. My family also had some sheep and cattle. But for the assistance we received at home we would never have been able to carry on with a stipend of only £75 per annum.
I think my preaching and teaching was acceptable for with the training I had received I should have been able to give interesting and edifying sermons. I have always been interested in imparting knowledge and information. Between the services and after lunch on Sundays, it was my practice to tell the people important world news. Maoris are always thirsty for news and information and it is regrettable that those who are in a position to do so have not started a really good Maori newspaper. Members of the Waiapu Hospital and Charitable Aid Board recently complained that natives were spending too much on the Talkies and were not meeting their hospital expenses. The complaint can be quite justifiably answered. Maoris rush the Talkies because they usually lead very dull lives at home, many of them having nothing to read.
When a man, who carried the mail to the lighthouse on East Island, gave up the job, at the request of the principal keeper, I took it on because I thought the job would give me the opportunity to do some fishing and would give my family a little more, and besides, it enabled us to gather some shell-fish which were
We were but half-way across the passage on our return journey when darkness fell. By the outline of the hills against the sky we were able to judge the whereabouts of the landing but it was too dark to see the entrance to the narrow channel. To run the risk of missing the channel might mean striking the dangerous rocks so we bided our time. However, we realised that we could not stay out in the open sea all night, for, at
My old mother, true to mother's instinct, had guessed that we were in trouble and had come all alone for half a mile to guide us into the channel by the light of a lantern. So guided, we landed safely and my mother told me, with tenderness, not to run any risk in future. We had run a risk, and had narrowly escaped with our lives.
Some others and myself once had a narrow escape from drowning. We had pulled across the passage to East Island and on our way back I noticed that the landing was not going to be very easy; with the incoming tide a heavy surf was running. I was at the steer-oar and had just given the order to pull when I saw heavy waves forming behind us. I gave the order to backwater but my sister disputed my order and, having no time to argue, I called out to them to pull for their lives. But we were caught squarely and, like a cockleshell, the little craft was lifted out of the water
At this time my beautiful little boy was lying ill and he did not recover.
As my brother-in-law was dead and my two brothers were away at the war, it fell to me to look after the farm. I had to do many things that were foreign to my upbringing. I had to plough, pack, fence, muster, drove, attend to the shearing of the sheep, and, on Sundays, conduct my services.
I had always wished for an opportunity to enable me to give more time to Church work.
The problem of education of our children soon confronted me. The nearest school was at Horoera, about five miles away, and to attend it the children had to ride on horseback along an exposed beach.
On Tawhai's return from the war, in 1918, I shifted my family to
We had to keep an open door at
At the Cape we had working horses, implements, good soil and good paddocks, but at
The chief Houkamau died in 1916 and I could not help observing that there was rivalry as to who should be chief or chieftainess. Houkamau really belonged to
St. Stephen's Church, one of the oldest Churches on the East Coast, was built in 1861. On the occasion of its opening, a small sum of money was collected and this formed the nucleus of the Waiapu Bishopric Fund and this was one reason for the diocese being called Waiapu. When I took over the parochial district, the Church had been blown down. I took steps to rebuild it, the cost being £1600. The usual Maori way to pay for Churches and other public buildings was to call a big hui.
Sir Apirana Ngata, who is credited with founding the Young Maori Party, always had a fondness for huis and gatherings which Maoris have. The debt on the Church had been paid, but he organised a large meeting the purpose of which was to collect money to help returned Maori soldiers within the Eastern Maori Electorate. A large number of people from
An incident in connection with the building of the Church might well be recorded. It was decided to cover the roof with slate tiles and to use sheet-lead to cover the upper portion of the tall spire. A man came from Auckland to put on the tiles, a job which he carried out fairly well, but, on the advice of two Maoris, he also covered the steep roof of the spire with slate tiles though the lead was actually on the spot. I at once saw that the job was unsatisfactory and before the carpenters dismantled the scaffolding, I asked them to leave it erected as I was not satisfied with the work on the spire. The foreman readily agreed and told me that he had expected me to interfere. In a short time people, both Maori and pakeha, came from every direction, the Maoris protesting but the pakehas siding with me on the matter and telling the Maoris that it was beyond them as it was not a kumara pit.
While I was telephoning I overhead the young chieftainess asking an old clergyman to come to see what I was doing. I was prepared to meet the situation. The old clergyman arrived in a towering rage and told me to leave the spire as it was, in spite of the fact that I was responsible for the re-erection of the Church. However, the Maoris were all angry with me and practically told me to mind my own business and to let the women's committee alone.
In the Church is a brass tablet to the memory of the
In the early days of the Church, the Maori Christians were very strict in their observance of the Lord's Day. No work of any kind was permitted, no clothes were allowed to be hung out to dry, no firewood chopped, no potatoes or kumaras peeled, and no travelling could be undertaken. Today, Maoris have gone to the other extreme.
After the carved whare, Hinerupe, and the Rongomaitapui hall were completed in 1938,
The trustees took control of the marae for over a year and showed how it should be run. They replaced the leaking tanks, bought new crockery and took charge of the finances. At this time the soldiers were returning home after the conclusion of the war. In accordance with the custom, we had to present every soldier with money, and a fresh batch of soldiers was arriving every week. One time, a large batch of returned men, under
At the annual meeting of trustees, the treasurer,
Once more our enemies called a large meeting which I was not bound to attend. They could not bring any charge against the trustees. The meeting was obviously divided into two sections, the young, whipped up by fanatics, siding with the enemy, and the elders siding with the trustees. I gave the people an opening by reading out the trustees' report and balance-sheet, but, even then, the opponents could not pick holes. However,
Strangely enough, not long after these happenings, the ring-leader lost a lucrative and very important position. Needless to say neither the trustees nor myself had anything whatever to do with his dismissal.
In 1946, the lead which covered the tall spire of the beautiful Church, began to peel off. Nobody took the slightest notice. As time passed the tear opened further and the Church began to leak. My daughter, Rewa, took it upon herself to collect money for the purpose of repairing the damage and she collected the sum of £137 which she deposited in the bank. Meanwhile the marae committee looked on with complacency, waiting for something to turn up.
In 1947, a meeting was called at the marae to decide how much the people should contribute to
No more, august body of visitors could have honoured any marae than that of
I confess that I am not a strict Sabbatarian, nor, for that matter was Christ Himself as strict as the Jews or the Maoris in their observance of Sunday. Christ hurt the susceptibilities of the Jews on this very question. I have been guided by His word that the sabbath was made for man and not man made for the sabbath.
We have a fine tennis court in front of our home at
One day, on returning to
Some people took it into their heads that to resign a charge was tantamount to resigning from religion. They had not then learned that religion was part of one and could not be set aside as one would take off one's Sunday clothes.
I continued taking services until I found the hard riding too much for me. I still celebrate marriages, administer the Holy Communion, christen children and take funerals, all, of course, without any remuneration. Even today, I would do much more if I could get about more easily than by riding on horse-back.
I must briefly refer here to an unpleasant incident that occurred when I attended a sitting of the synod at Napier.
The Maori clergy were invited to Bishopscourt for a conference during which the Bishop referred to Maori clergymen who were working on their own lands; he expressed his disapproval. He said that the trouble with the Maori clergy was that they were not converted. I felt he was aiming at me though I was not the only clergyman who was doing something on ancestral lands. What made the conference more painful was the attitude of a clergyman who stated that, although his aged father was helpless, he had left him behind in order to do God's work elsewhere, for he obeyed the Master's words to let "the dead bury the dead." The Bishop held this man up as a model for
After my arrival home, I forwarded my resignation to the Bishop, but, of course, he did not accept it.
Economic stress later compelled me to send in my resignation to
Here I should like to record a very sad page in our family history. Before referring to it, however, I mention a case of gross carelessness committed by one of my brothers who was regarded as a model of commonsense and carefulness. He arrived from Rangitukia and borrowed my gun to do a little shooting. He came back without firing a shot, but, instead of taking the live cartridge out of the gun and putting both out of the children's reach, he left the loaded gun on a low platform and came to see us while we were working in the gardens. As soon as the children saw the gun, three of them—a boy and his two little sisters—of course, made for it. The boy got hold of it and pulled the trigger. The gun went off, miraculously missing the two little girls. When we heard the noise of the shot my brother cried out, "That's my gun." I knew the children were about so I ran towards the back of the house and under a platform I could see three pairs of little legs and so I knew that the three children were safe. After the gun had gone off the boy threw it away and was expecting some punishment, but, of course, he could not be blamed for the incident.
One afternoon in 1946 Kate and I harnessed up the farm cart to take the children to the watermelon patch. We went first to the kumara cultivation to get some kumara for tea. The little children pulled up the
I shall now mention some of the more pleasant sides of our life at
With such a state of mind and such an attitude towards life, I may, unconsciously, introduce some elements of self-praise and conceit. At any rate, I am confident that the life that my wife, our children and myself live here at
By the loss of our ancestral land at Kautuku, my family and I were crushed.
It may sound incredible that in spite of difficulties and drawbacks we, as a family, are happy and contented, for we have been fortunate to secure this lovely spot where I pen these lines.
At present, my wife and I are passing rich with
We live in a really fine large house which some people have dubbed, not ironically, a mansion. The old house does look very beautiful with its walls of cream and roof of red. It may be old fashioned, but, nevertheless, its gables give it a stylish appearance. The inside, though not grand, is simple and pleasing. The bay window, carved by a visitor and decorated by my wife and myself is the admiration of everybody who sees it. The house has every convenience but one, an important exception which I need not mention. I hope soon to rectify this one defect in our home which is lighted by electricity and is supplied with water from a spring.
The grounds around are in keeping with the appearance of the house. At the front are a well-kept tennis court and mown lawns; at the sides are flower-beds. From the bay-window can be seen a large bed of rose-bushes which, as I write, are in full bloom and are of all shades and colours. Beyond the rose-bed is a bed of about two-hundred gladioli.
Perhaps a little about the gardening side of my wife's life may now be mentioned. Though we are both fond of gardening, my wife is more successful than I She toils incessantly in her flower and kitchen gardens and also in the larger cultivations of kumaras, potatoes, maize, pumpkins, marrow, and water and rock-melons.
In order to keep down the weeds in the kumara cultivations, my wife starts to work before breakfast, takes a spell when breakfast is brought to her, and
In 1947, the Under Secretary of the Native Department,
When Mrs. H. V. Fairlie, of
A well-spoken Maori briefly summed up our life at
Though we have no rabbits on the East Coast, we have much trouble with hares, there being abundant cover for them close to the kumara cultivations. They are very fond of the tender young plants, so in an effort to keep them away we tied dogs along the fence but the hares seemed to realise that, like the lions in Pilgrim's Progress, the dogs were tied up and were perfectly harmless. They did most of the damage in the early morning, so my wife and I decided that we should sleep at the cultivations. We improvised a roof by placing half-a-dozen corrugated iron sheets between two wires of a fence and placing heavy weights on the ends of the sheets touching the ground. We found ample cover from rain under the protruding ends of the iron sheets on the other side of the fence. Under this shelter we placed a spring mattress on two cross logs and on the top of the spring mattress another mattress. We even had sheets. It was a novel kind of camp and we immensely enjoyed our unorthodox life there. We tied an old iron dish to the fence and this we used as a gong which we beat occasionally. The loud beating of the gong sent the hares scampering into the jungle.
If the wind changed we had only to reverse our shelter and place our bedding on the other side of the fence. It might have been termed a sort of see-saw camp. As a precaution against a sudden change of wind and rain, we put oilskins over the blankets.
When the kumara plants were sufficiently established the hares would not touch them and it was, therefore, no longer necessary for us to sleep out. But fresh troubles arose. A neighbour owned a Tamworth boar which was as large as a young calf. He warned us that he found it was impossible to confine the pig to a sty. In the daytime, the boar disappeared into the jungle but at night he raided the cultivations. One morning we found that it had been in our kumara patch. I was given permission by the owner to shoot the brute, so I kept my loaded pea-rifle handy in case it favoured us with another visit. That night we again had our bunk on the outside of the fence. Very early in the morning, upon opening my eyes, what should I see but the gigantic red boar, only half a chain away, curiously watching us as we slept. Evidently it was not sure whether we were living things or not, but he very soon found that out, for I fired at his head with my 22. The charge didn't seem to hurt him much for he just gave a grunt and turned away, but the noise awoke Kate who asked excitedly, "What are you doing? You startled me."
I couldn't help but think that if the boar had had a bit of intelligence he might have attacked us and we would have been helpless and Kate might have easily been eaten in her sleep.
Having put on my clothes, and with my rifle in my hand, I followed the wounded boar. When I came upon him I found he was groggy, and with another shot from my rifle he rolled over on his side. He was a huge pig and the pork was cut up and distributed among the whole
I have already stated that we live a simple life at Kehe, granite trout.kehe
We have vegetables throughout almost the whole year. Time was when the luscious tomato was unknown among the
Two Maori foods, kina (sea-egg) and rotten corn,
Very few Maoris turn up their noses at the mention of rotten corn. Steeped in running water for several months, the corn must smell, and yet its smell is not like that of putrid matter. It is strange how Maori children take to rotten corn. Both my wife and I occasionally enjoy a dish of kaanga wai, as the Maoris of Rotorua call it, although we can't help but think rotten corn is not a wholesome food.
Despite our half-hearted objection our grand-children have taken two bagfuls of good maize and have thrown them into a running stream until the corn becomes soft and ready for consumption. There is no accounting for tastes. I may point out that corn is not a native food; it was introduced.
I have mentioned my neighbours who live on either side. As I face the sea,
Mr. and Mrs. Walker lost their youngest daughter, Elizabeth, on October 14th, 1949, and on the 21st of the same month, Willie Walker himself followed his beloved daughter.
Willie Walker has left behind him an example for the Maori people to follow. He lived for his home and his children and though he died suddenly, nothing was dislocated because of his death, for he had established his wife and family in their own comfortable home and on a prosperous sheepstation. No father could have done more. Each of his three surviving sons now has his own home and sheepstation.
Henry McClutchie has also done remarkably well. When he came to the Matakaoa County he left behind him all the ancestral lands he owned in the Waiapu Valley. Now he owns three farms and has built a fine place for himself in the
I may, perhaps, also mention that other Maoris in the Matakaoa County are doing well as sheep-and dairy-farmers.
I am pleased to record the success and progress of Maori farmers for I consider them the salt of Maori society. They are the leaders of the Maori people and
Despite the pleasure I derive from recording these successes I have mixed feeling about the future of the Maori people as a whole. I have no reason to be optimistic, there being every reason to be the opposite.
Since the law has been altered so that a Maori may take liquor to his home or anywhere else he likes, drinking has increased very much among the Maoris, particularly among men and youths. Very few Maori men do not drink or would decline to drink and they are treated as a class by themselves. Drinking among the Maoris in the past was bad enough; it will be a great deal worse in the future, for, whether the elders know it or not, by drinking in the home and before the eyes of the children, they are schooling the children to be the drinkers of the future. I have always taken up an uncompromising attitude to drink, for its evil results far outweigh its advantages, and I always think of the children. Probably, if I took drink it would not do me much harm—nor, for that matter, would it do me any good—but I dread to think that my example may lead my own children and grand-children, or even other people's children, to start a habit which has led thousands of men and women down the road to perdition. "But whoso shall offend one of these little ones who believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck and that he were drowned in the depths of the sea. Woe unto the world because of offences! for it must needs be that offences come; but woe to that man by whom the offence cometh!"
A fondness for excitement is a weakness in Maori character. Maoris seek excitement in huis, tangis, races, sports, parties and the Talkies. Excitement is his chief
Today, so degraded has the Maori's sense of the fitness of things become that a death in a home is used as an occasion for merriment and excitement. After a funeral the usual thing now is to "takahi" the deceased's home or remove the tapu by holding a drinking party in the home. No-one seems to question the propriety of the thing and even I, with such pronounced views on drinking, am expected to conform. I once attended a takahi party. A whole sackful of bottles of beer was dragged into the house. No-one would have thought that in the forenoon of the same day, the dead body of a well-liked man had lain in this same house and that much crying had then been heard. I felt disgusted and so left the party and swore that I would never attend another.
I am at a loss to know how this custom came about; at any rate, it cannot be very ancient for the old Maoris never had liquor with which to celebrate. Some drunkard must have started it and now it is considered a national custom.
I am pleased to note that, on the whole, the women don't drink, and those who do, do not do so to excess. I hope and pray that, for the sake of the children they will not admit liquor into their homes. The future of the race is in their hands.
When at first I jotted down a few of my reminiscences, I had no idea that it would lead to my writing such a long chapter to record them. But, after all, an autobiography is, in reality, a story built up of reminiscences. In this chapter I give a few of my stray reminiscences, of which some may be good, some may be bad, and others may be indifferent.
After having been at
One day I took some friends to see a swimming pool that I had used when I was a youth. My friends and I stood on the bank which, long before, I had used to leap or dive into the pool. As I verbally described the children leaping and diving into the pool I lost my balance and dived headlong into the deep water below. I, of course, completely disappeared, but my new hat floated on the surface while my friends stood holding their sides, laughing. I felt humiliated, but the unrehearsed performance had at least amused my guests.
I realised that the Maoris regarded anything connected with the dead—such as a burial-ground—as tapu, or sacred. But, fresh from college as I was, I thought I would show my superiority by doing something that would shock the children, their parents and even the whole community. The Orangai Cemetery was within the pa and was therefore within an area where my intended impudent deed would be well advertised.
The following anecdote was omitted from the biography "
Having faultless English and also a strong sense of humour, Nati, short for
Before a Mormon elder came to stay with us, he had gained quite a name among our neighbour's children for toffee-making. One evening, before he took prayers, he had put the frying-pan, with the mixture in it on the stove and by the time prayers were over, the toffee had been burnt and spoilt. The next evening the same process was repeated but while the elder was saying the prayers, he thought of the toffee, stopped, stood up, got hold of the handle of the frying-pan, shook it vigorously and asked, "Would God mind,
Old Taipene, a big man, was known to have a healthy appetite. He and a number of boys had a scrub-cutting contract somewhere in the Waiapu Valley. Harmony reigned in the camp except on the question of sharing the tucker for the boys thought that the old man took more than his share out of the common dish, particularly in regard to the meat. At the end of the day the gang retired to their camp where awaiting them was a simple meal consisting of potatoes, kumaras, puha and meat, all served out in one large dish from which each was to help himself. The boys noticed that Taipene ate the meat at such a speed that, before they had received their fair share of it, it was all gone. This went on for a few days until the boys could not stand it any longer. They therefore thought that while the elder closed his eyes when saying grace, each of them would pick out how much he thought he should have. At meal-time the plan went off without a hitch, but the old man viewed the matter grimly and one night, when pork was the meat, Taipene made up his mind that he would not be cheated out of a good share of the tasty pork. As usual, the old man was asked to say grace. But, instead of bending his head, he stood up and, lifting the dish of food high over his head, out of the reach of the youngsters, said, "For what we are about to receive," and so on. Instead of responding with "amen" the boys, amused by the ludicrous sight, burst out laughing.
I once had a silly habit of writing down the number "36" and ultimately began to believe that I
Often, on a fine day, Kate and I would go to one of the beautiful beaches that are to be found at
My unmanliness preyed on my mind and I determined that I would make amends for my failure at the first opportunity. Another fine day induced us pauas. Kate suggested that we should look for crayfish. I readily agreed, hoping to wipe out my past. Kate caught three small ones, but I was after big game—a pawharu, or full-sized crayfish. I was feeling along with my foot when I put it into a hole and felt a large crustacean. I dived, forgetful that a stingaree might be about, and with both hands I gripped the large crayfish and bore it ashore with glee. I had retrieved my reputation and had regained Kate's respect.
The Maoris take their sport very seriously, almost as though it were the most important thing in life. One season when the Hicks Bay Football Club won the cup in the Matakaoa Sub-Union Competitions, the whole sub-tribe celebrated the occasion. I happened to be present at the celebration. In the centre of the long table the coveted trophy was placed. After congratulatory speeches had been made, the cup was handed over to the blind chief who was sitting in a corner. Holding it between his hands, he recited:
"Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, according to Thy word; for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation."
The contest among the five sub-unions of the East Coast Rugby Union, for the
The Tai-Tokerau (North Auckland) came to Gisborne to meet the Tai Rawhiti (East Coast), holders of the Prince of Wales Cup. The match caused intense excitement among the tribes, for added to the Maoris' love of rugby, the match provided the first meeting of the northern and the East Coast tribes since Hongi's invasion of the
A junior game of football was being played at Tikitiki, and, somehow or other, the referee's ruling did not please one side and therefore one might naturally conclude that it must please the other side. However, during a stop in the progress of the game, the two skippers met for a brief talk while the referee stood with his whistle in his hand ready to re-start the game.
My great-grandfather, Pakura, and his brother, Hihi, were once the terror of their whole district. It, was their habit to sit on a bank overlooking the beach where people passed by on their way home after catching fish and gathering shell-fish. No food carriers would pass without leaving something behind for the two chiefs. It was customary to do so. One day, however, while the two chiefs happened to be absent from their perch, a party of food-carriers passed by without observing the usual practice of leaving a tribute of food. On the return of the chiefs, they were told of the party, which had been carrying crayfish and had passed by without leaving anything. Pakura and Hihi got their spears and at once gave chase to the offenders. The pursuers came upon the carriers of crayfish just as they were nearing their pa. The crayfish were gathered and Tiritahua, the leader, was killed and eaten with the crayfish.
More than a century afterwards a similar incident happened at
The next day the same people came over the hill again, but my children, without a word from me or their mother, went in a body and one of the little girls told the poachers to leave the place.
When I was tutor at Te Rau Theological College, one of my duties was to give an outline of a sermon for the students to preach at various settlements on the following Sunday. I made the students work out the subject themselves and at the end I gave the outline with notes. Some of the students who had not acquired confidence studied the notes closely. One Sunday, a student went to a small settlement about five miles out of Gisborne. When it was time to preach the sermon, the man felt in his pockets for his notes but could not find them. Then, without closing the service, he went all the way back to the college to get his notes. By the time he returned to the settlement, the people had had lunch and it was time for the afternoon service at which the student preached his lost sermon.
Boys at
Maoris are notoriously poor debt-payers. In my own case it was not a matter of choice at all. When I visited the
Lately my five-and-a-half-year-old granddaughter has asked some difficult and awkward questions. While we were in bed, the wind blew so hard that she turned to me and said, "Grandpa, what makes the wind blow?" At school I had been told why the wind blew, but why it blew so terrifically that it carried a gig right across a paddock, I could not explain.
About this same time there was a terrific thunderstorm. The girl's boy cousin had told her that forked lightning often killed people, so she often asked me about it. When the heavens thundered she would ask, "Who made the thunder?" When she was told that God made thunders, she remarked, "God should not have made thunders."
It is the little girl's duty to collect the eggs and one day she asked her aunt, "Why doesn't a rooster lay eggs?" She later wanted to know if an egg came out of a hen's stomach.
On our way back to college, after
A student at Te Rau College once told me that the Maoris in the north Auckland district used to dive into deep water where large eels might be found, and, having located one, would hook it in the body and then come to the surface and haul it up. I believe this method of catching eels is not uncommon among other tribes. I have also read that an Islander, armed with a sharp knife or dagger, dived into a part of the sea that was frequented by sharks. Before a shark could attack him, however, the diver had plunged his knife deep into its body.
The above stories are credible and generally accepted but the following story seems rather incredible, but what I am about to relate is not a rare thing and is perfectly true. My late friend,
Whenever Katene Ngatoko, progenitor of the Henderson family of
After writing the above story, of which I had some doubts as to its credibility, I learned that catching octopuses was a fairly common practice among the Maoris at
Rua Hoerara once told me that his sister,
One day, when searching in this fashion, a fair-sized octopus sent some of its long tentacles right up round her neck. Her head was just above the water but when she tried to move out of the water with the octopus clinging to her body she found she was unable to do so because its other tentacles were still clinging
Rua once pointed out to me the particular channel in which his sister used to catch octopuses. He also mentioned that a family in
When I was editing Te Pipiwharauroa, for a change from the serious subjects I would often refer to some ridiculous Maori superstitions which invariably brought protests. But I scored well over my opponents. I suppose fishing, being one of the principal means of food supply for the people, is hedged in with superstition. When fishing for moki the Maoris are so superstitious that not even a particle of food is carried out to the fishing grounds in a canoe. I ridiculed the notion that a fish at the bottom of the sea could see any food in a canoe when it couldn't see the barbed hook hidden in the bait. The article was much read and discussed and when
I must put this on record, if only for the reason that it is an
Old Tete Korimete, two or three other young men and myself had pulled out for a day's fishing off East Island. Before we dropped anchor, Tete warned us against letting any fish we might catch come in contact with the stone sinkers or the spare stones we had with us, and, to be doubly sure, he asked us to put all stones into bags. He said that if a fish touched a stone we would catch no more fish that day and we then might just as well go home. After an hour's fishing we caught so many fish that they became mixed up and Tete's next fish was accidentally placed in the bag in which he had put his stones. The boys noticed Tete's oversight but they kept quiet. Suddenly, Tete realised his mistake and called out, "No more fish today, boys. I have put a fish in the same bag as the toone (stones); better pull up the anchor and go home." The boys giggled, but would not pull in their lines. Still they caught more fish. But old Tete, stubborn, conservative, and true to his up-bringing, would not admit that the old Maori notion was nonsensical. No more fishing for him that day. The boys made fun of old Tete when they got ashore and for many weeks and months they called him, "Toone" (stone).
One more fish story. It is a Maori notion that a fish hooked by the belly instead of by the mouth is a sure sign that the fisher's wife is misconducting herself on shore and it inevitably spoils a man's fishing for the day.
Two fishing boats had put out of
It is my opinion that Maoris, on the whole, do not realise that jealousy is a very serious fault. I have heard Maoris openly say they were jealous men as though it was nothing to be ashamed of.
A grandson of a well-known
I have been the victim of a cruel slander, set afoot by people who should have known better. Evidently they judged other people by their own standards. My wife was a delicate girl when I married her and after the births of our first children she became thinner and was often unwell and at times I thought I might lose her. Gossips made out that her ill-health was caused by my frequent thrashing of her. The slanderers should have known that Kate was the last person in the world to tolerate cruelty and insults. When she went on a seven-month holiday to her people at Manutuke, some of her friends asked her whether there was anything in the rumour which they had heard. When she denied unequivocally the slanderous accusation, they thought she was only endeavouring to shield me. Some Maoris have a peculiar idea of married life: they are quite sure that a man who has a pretty wife must naturally be a jealous husband. Kate is prepossessing in her looks, and I am not. Therefore, so they infer, I must be jealous and must occasionally give her a hiding to keep her subdued.
As I pen these perhaps too personal lines, my wife is on holiday. My old detractors, were they still alive would hardly know her for she is not the skinny girl they once knew; she is now a robust-looking woman, and, as a matron, she has grown quite fat.
The following instances of greed and selfishness may seem trifling, but, though they happened many years
It was a rainy day and, without any pre-arrangement, quite a number of people came together to Hinerupe, the runanga house, and the usual rendezvous for talk, gossip and cards. We all began to feel hungry, but being hungry was preferable to getting drenched. Out of the rain emerged a good Samaritan, old Riria, carrying between her hands a large dish of green corn on the cob. The oldest in the company, a man of some standing, flopped on the mats, crossed his legs and picked out not one but two large cobs of corn, one of which he placed safely between his legs while he began to eat the other, quite unconcerned that there was not sufficient corn to go round.
There being a Native Land Court sitting at
My wife and I had gone to Ornamental lattice work between the slabs of a carved house.
The chief
I have mentioned elsewhere that the Maoris regard stinginess as a cardinal fault, yet these four instances of greed and selfishness were not instantly condemned. I also know that some Maoris regard grabbing food with respect, for they term it kamakama, or smart. I have taken the trouble to record these four instances of brazen greed and selfishness and I have also termed them trifling. They are extremely trifling compared with the gigantic and organised greed that occurs all over the world. The principle involved, however, is the same. I may also add that a person's character is often betrayed by his conduct at the table. The Maoris have a saying, "To te ware tona-patu he kai" — "Eating is the downfall of the low-born."
It is customary among white people to speak disparagingly of eels as food, and often, with a wry face, they ask, "How can you eat the thing?" A young
A number of men had put out to do some fishing at
In an earlier chapter I stated that when we first came to
On the other hand, we read that the Guthrie-Smith family, of Tutira, tamed and made pets of wild pigeons. The birds became so tame that often they flew from the tall trees right inside the house at meal-time and perched either on the heads or on the shoulders of some members of the family, there waiting to be given the feed which they invariably received. The four pets were often seen feeding with the domestic birds and they were given names, such as Budget, Uncle Harry, and other names which have since slipped my old memory.
I remember listening to the
Four loyalist Maoris of Wairoa went to Whataroa in 1868 on a mission of inspection. Every member of
History gives only one side to the story of the Whataroa massacre: That it was a cold-blooded murder. I was pleased, therefore, when Manakore and a Wairoa man informed me that there was another side to the story: A woman, a relative of
I had always been puzzled why
The descendants of
The late
On one occasion he was well-worked up and, to conclude his fiery speech, he said, "Ko te hera te pakeha!" When the House adjourned,
I remember listening to
The elderly pakeha members of the Young Maori Party didn't appreciate
I suppose there never was a more humble and less intrusive man in the whole of the
Over sixty years ago I knew Tawiri as a mysterious character. His face was freckled and reddish in colour and there was in it a most peculiar expression. I had never heard him speak and even if he had spoken, I believe he would have been at a loss to know what to say; he looked so very strange and peculiar.
There was, however, one thing in his favour: he was a fast walker; in fact, he could be called a trotter. It
I think I have written down all the stray reminiscences I can recall and what I am adding here are two amusing short yarns which I have always enjoyed, though I cannot vouch for their authenticity. The first is current among the Maoris and for the second my authority is no less a person than the late
A Maori was seen gazing in wonder at a sky-scraper in
The Maori did not seem at all astonished and replied quietly, "Oh, that's nothing. We have a big building called Mount Eden (the gaol) in Auckland. You know, my old man has been there for two years and he is not out yet."
Hoani coveted Farmer Smith's fine hack and wanted to own it. When one day he met the farmer and offered £20 for the horse the farmer agreed and Hoani wrote out a cheque for the amount and the farmer gave him a receipt. Some time afterwards, Hoani happened to visit the post office and the postmaster handed him a telegram. As the Maori could not read English, he asked the postmaster to read the telegram out to him. It read, "Cheque lost. Please stop payment." Hoani understood it well enough. He hesitated but said nothing. His friend, the posmaster, asked him for his reply for the telegram was prepaid. He looked at the ceiling and quite seriously said, "Tell him, don't worry, cheque stop himself."—Cheerful Yesterdays.