on to the _haka_, or native dance, is
the beer-drinking which invariably accompanies it. The beer is brought
from the hotel in an open bucket holding several gallons, and mugs being
furnished, the performers partake freely, until by the time the dance
draws to a close they are not in a condition to care much for the
proprieties.

When one of these Maoris meets another after a long separation, the
first thing is the mutual rubbing of noses, after which each of the
parties begins to mourn and weep; but when they say good-by at parting,
for however long a term, boisterous laughter is indulged in,--for it is
a principle with them to speed the parting guest with feast, song, and
hilarity. As the dead lies prepared for burial, the nearest relative
first, and the closest friend after, rubs noses with the corpse. The
natives here are in receipt of a considerable amount of money from the
rents of lands, from pensions granted by the Government, and from acting
in the capacity of guides, or as boatmen on the lake, and for performing
other odd jobs for the whites. But they have no idea of economy or of
saving anything for a time of need. The money which they receive goes as
fast as it comes into their possession, and mostly for liquor and
tobacco. When the money is gone, they will half starve themselves until
a fresh supply comes in. After one of their continued wakes, at which
food is so recklessly wasted, and all their spare cash expended in
drinking and in other excesses, there follows a period of fasting,
during which they live upon roots, berries, and stray bits of food
picked up here and there. Such is their improvidence, that there are
often times when they would absolutely starve were it not for the aid
given gratuitously by the whites.

The Maoris at the present time are remarkably peaceable among
themselves,--being never known, as we were told by local officials, to
quarrel one with another, not even in their cups; for while liquor makes
them foolish, it seldom makes them pugnacious. It was noticed that the
fathers often carried the infant children on their backs, and in the
same style adopted by the mothers. From this and other indications we
got the impression that they are very kind to their children. One thing
is certainly remarkable: these native babies never cry. We were a full
week among them, witnessing their domestic life at nearly all hours, and
we never heard the first cry from their lips. The same peculiarity