There was one tall, gaunt old man among the throng, with a fierce-looking, tattooed countenance, and a pointed grey beard, who never moved about without a greenstone mere in his hand, and when afterwards we got into conversation with him, to ascertain the history of this implement, he told us it was the last relic of his tribe, and that the notch at the end of it had been made by cracking an enemy's skull. Judging from the impression made upon the hard stone by the skull, it occurred to me that its owner must have ranked during lifetime as a kind of champion thick-headed savage.
Many of the women at this gathering were the finest, both as regards appearance and stature, we had seen during our journey, some of them being perfect giantesses in build. Among the finest and most attractive was Tapare Huia Tauaiti, the daughter of Heure Harawira, a native chief.
NATIVE GIRL.
When the natives learned that we had travelled alone, as they termed it, "from the big mountains in the south," they invited us to remain over night, but not before they had asked us many questions as to the object of our journey, and how it was we had chosen so roundabout a way when the Maoris always made it a rule to take the shortest cut between two points. We several times felt pushed to find a reasonable reply to their queries in this respect, but Turner, with his usual diplomatic tact, invariably got out of the difficulty by remarking that when a pakeha got on to a horse, like the proverbial tailor, there was no telling where he would ride to.
After a very acceptable meal of pork, potatoes, and thistles,[69] which was served out to the assembled crowd in small plaited flax baskets, we were allotted quarters in the runanga-house, where fifty men, women, and children lay huddled together in the most promiscuous way. Never during the whole of our journey did we spend so unpleasant a night. At sundown the runanga-house was firmly closed, four big charcoal fires were lit, and men, women, and children smoked until the atmosphere became so stifling that it was almost impossible to breathe. The great subject of conversation was the question of native boundaries, the projected government survey through the country, and the iniquities of the Native Land Court. More than a dozen speeches were delivered on these topics, and it was amusing to see one gaunt figure after another get up in the dim light, swathed in a blanket, after the fashion of a toga, and deliver a long and fiery oration, to which every one would listen in rapt attention, without questioning a single statement of the speaker until he had delivered himself of all he had to say. These expressions of opinion were carried on from either side of the house far into the night, until one by one the dark forms fell off to sleep, when the snoring, coughing, and wheezing, coupled with the stifling heat, transformed the place into a veritable pandemonium.
FOOTNOTES:
[67] The hongi is to salute by the nose. Two individuals saluting in this way grasp the right hands, and, bending forward, press the end of their noses together, uttering at the same time a whining sound.
[68] A tangi (to cry) is a lamentation for the dead. Assemblages of this kind often last over many days, during which time the corpse is laid out ready for interment. It is also a form of salutation, upon the meeting of friends, intended to lament departed kindred. The cry is a most doleful one, and when uttering it the mourners express all sorts of convulsive movements to betoken their anguish.