o make their tiny
chisels. Both observed the law of _tapu_ under which the male
patients, while undergoing the process of puncturing, were sacred,
immensely to their own inconvenience, for they had to dwell apart, and
might not even touch food with their hands. As to the source of the
peculiar patterns used by the New Zealanders, they probably have some
relation with the admirable wood-carving before mentioned. Either
the Moko artists copied the style of the skilful carvers of panels,
door-posts, clubs, and the figure-heads on the prows of canoes, or the
wood-carvers borrowed and reproduced the lines and curves of the Moko.
The inspiration of the patterns, whether on wood or skin, may be found
in the spirals of sea-shells, the tracery on the skin of lizards and
the bark of trees, and even, it may be, in the curious fluting and
natural scroll-work on the tall cliffs of the calcareous clay called
_papa_.

But, however the Moko artist learned his designs, he was a painstaking
and conscientious craftsman in imprinting them on his subject. No
black-and-white draughtsman of our time, no wood-cutter, etcher, or
line-engraver, worked with slower deliberation. The outlines were
first drawn with charcoal or red ochre. Thus was the accuracy of curve
and scroll-work ensured. Then, inch by inch, the lines were cut or
pricked out on the quivering, but unflinching, human copper-plate.
The blood was wiped away and the _narahu_ (blue dye) infused. In the
course of weeks, months, or years, as leisure, wealth, or endurance
permitted, the work was completed. In no other society did the artist
have his patron so completely at his mercy. Not only was a Moko expert
of true ability a rarity for whose services there was always an
"effective demand," but, if not well paid for his labours, the
tattooer could make his sitter suffer in more ways than one. He could
adroitly increase the acute anguish which had, as a point of honour,
to be endured without cry or complaint; or he could coolly bungle the
execution of the design, or leave it unfinished, and betake himself to
a more generous customer. A well-known tattooing chant deals with the
subject entirely from the artist's standpoint, and emphasises the
business principles upon which he went to work. It was this song that
Alfred Domett (Robert Browning's Waring) must have had in his mind
when, in his New Zealand poem, he thus described the Moko on the face
of the chief Tangi-Moana:--

"And fin