e Maori mind conceived of the Universe as divided into three
regions--the Heavens above, the Earth beneath, and the Darkness under
the Earth. To Rangi, the Heaven, the privileged souls of chiefs and
priests returned after death, for from Rangi had come down their
ancestors the gods, the fathers of the heroes. For the souls of the
common people there was in prospect no such lofty and serene abode.
They could not hope to climb after death to the tenth heaven, where
dwelt Rehua, the Lord of Loving-kindness, attended by an innumerable
host. Ancient of days was Rehua, with streaming hair. The lightning
flashed from his arm-pits, great was his power, and to him the sick,
the blind, and the sorrowful might pray.

It was not the upper world of Ao or Light, but an under world of Po or
Darkness, to which the spirit of the unprivileged Maori must take its
way. Nor was the descent to Te Reinga or Hades a _facilis descensus
Averni_. After the death-chant had ceased, and the soul had left the
body--left it lying surrounded by weeping blood-relations marshalled
in due order--it started on a long journey. Among the Maoris the dead
were laid with feet pointing to the north, as it was thither that the
soul's road lay. At the extreme north end of New Zealand was a spot
_Muri Whenua_--Land's End. Here was the Spirits' Leap. To that the
soul travelled, halting once and again on the hill-tops to strip off
the green leaves in which the mourners had clad it. Here and there by
the wayside some lingering ghost would tie a knot in the ribbon-like
leaves of the flax plant--such knots as foreigners hold to be made
by the whipping of the wind. As the souls gathered at their goal,
nature's sounds were hushed. The roar of the waterfall, the sea's
dashing, the sigh of the wind in the trees, all were silenced. At the
Spirits' Leap on the verge of a tall cliff grew a lonely tree, with
brown, spreading branches, dark leaves and red flowers. The name of
the tree was Spray-Sprinkled.[1] One of its roots hung down over
the cliff's face to the mouth of a cavern fringed by much sea-weed,
floating or dripping on the heaving sea. Pausing for a moment the
reluctant shades chanted a farewell to their fellow-men and danced a
last war-dance. Amid the wild yells of the invisible dancers could be
heard the barking of their dogs. Then, sliding down the roots, the
spirits disappeared in the cave. Within its recesses was a river
flowing between sandy shores. All were imp