from his son, he only waived his hand–––
and he continued to do this till Waipata,
and his friends, and, in fact, all the chiefs, and
everybody else, left him sitting there alone.

Thus sat the king till evening; and, feeling
that nothing worse could occur to him than
had already happened, he would not move
even at night. A Maori youth, however,
was sent by Waipata from the missionary
station, to light a fire near him for company
and protection, and also with a bottle of rum
to prevent ague from the night-dews. Ta?nui
received these attentions without giving any
token of recognition; after the young man
was gone, however, he took a copious draught
of the rum, and then sat and contemplated the
fire in a state of grim apathy till he fell asleep.

He had not slept long before the thought
of the flute presented itself to his mind in the
most persuasive form–––proposing to him, as it
seemed, that he should be reconciled to the
memory of the great Te Pomar–––that he
should never again exult over his fall that
he should liberate Te?ra before it was too
late, and cease to persecute her, or punish his
son, for embracing the Christian religion.
But in vain–––he would not attend to it–––he
would not be softened and humanised–––and
in the end he transformed the suggestions of
his dream into a taunt that he dared not play
the flute again.

No sooner did the idea present itself then
up went the flute to his mouth, and, instead
of a discordant insult to the memory of Te
Pomar, in an instant he received a violent
kick on the shin, as if from some prodigious
leg! He started up. Who had done this?
Nobody was near. Nothing was to be seen
but the dying embers of the fire, and the
horrid heap of slaughtered kangaroos, all
with their huge hind-legs sticking up in the
air. Had they been alive, such a kick might
have been administered by one of these legs;
but they were all rigid in death.

While the king was looking at the
mangled and hideous heap, one of the limbs
moved–––certainly it had moved–––and now it
moved again. Presently there was a horrid
"stir" all over the ensanguined mass–––one of
the kangaroos lifted its head up, and, with its
ears bolt upright, and its eyes turned towards
the king, gave a sneeze so loud that it seemed
to split the adjacent rock. Whereupon, all
the nine kangaroos started up, and made off
at long leaps across the sands.

Ta?nui looked after them! Had he been
deceived, after all? An irresistible impulse
made him snatch up his long spear, and give
chase with his utmost speed. They were a
considerable distance a-head of him, yet he
was surprised to find himself gainng upon
them, as their large bodies fled, with long
flying leaps, across the sands, the clear moon
shining brightly down upon their glossy backs
and long thick out-stretched tails, giving them
the strange appearance of creatures made of
a sort of ghostly silver, flying, with the sea
on one side of them, and the land on the
other, and belonging to neither. They now
turned a corner of the cliff, and were lost to
sight.

Ta?nui pursuing at full speed, turned the
same corner. The kangaroos were at a great
distance, but one of them had detached itself
from the rest, and was turning back. Yes–––
it was coming to meet him. There was
something stately, if not threatening, in its
air. Could the creature intend to attack
him?

As the figure advanced, the moon gradually
shone brighter and brighter upon it, till the
king could clearly distinguish the suit of
armour given by a king of England to the
chief Shongi E. Hongi in days of yore. It
was absolutely the suit of armour–––but was
anybody inside it? A battle was intended by
the armour–––that was apparent. At the
distance of a spear's throw, the figure paused,
and made signs of defying the king to single
combat.

Taonui would willingly have declined it,
but it was too late, and, besides, he would be
slain if he did not fight. Without further
hesitation, therefore, he flung his spear. It
smote the suit of armour on the breast with
unerring aim, and broke off at the point. A
strange noise issued from the inside of the
armour. It was evidently not empty.
Somebody was inside. It advanced, apparently
having no weapons, though with a very
confident bearing.

Ta?nui now whirled his tomahawk through
the air. It smote with a loud ringing sound
upon the helmet, and fell down in the sand.
The king, then, in a sort of despair, uttered
his war-cry, and rushing onward with his
meri ponamu (a green, flat war-club),
commenced a valiant assault upon his inexplicable
antagonist, who, however, contented itself
with turning its back–––raising one leg–––and
administering a kick in the king's ribs so
tremendous that he flew before it, and dashed
up the sand for several yards, as he rolled
over in all sorts of wild postures.

Expecting, as a matter of course, to be
killed by some novel process, the fallen Ta?nui
looked up, and saw long ears sticking out at
the sides of the helmet, and a long projecting
nose. It was one of the kangaroos! And
now the others all returned, and after
performing a series of exulting leaps round about
him, the nine kangaroos all danced upon the
prostrate body of the king, till he became
insensible.

The religion of the Tohunga, which was the
established church of New Zealand at this
period, and continues to be so to this day
with most of the tribes who remain firm to
heathenism, could by no means be designated
as idolatry. They had small household gods,
such as lizards, and little deformed figures
hung round their necks: they also had great
fear of spirits, devils, and apparitions of all
sorts, but no definite adorations on a grand