forts and appliances a
horrible iniquity. It will be remembered how fierce was O'Gaygun's wrath
on the occasion when forks and spoons were brought into the shanty. Now,
his sublime indignation was roused to the utmost at the spectacle of
such an outrageous incongruity as an umbrella, in the pure and holy
atmosphere of our shanty. An umbrella! Did it not convey an instant
recollection of all the worst emasculating tendencies from which we had
come out? Why, it was almost as bad as that acme of horrors, a
chimney-pot hat!

"Smash it! Burn it!" he shouted. "Mother av Moses! f'what nixt?"

However, it was eventually decided that I should give the umbrella to
old Tama, it being a handsome one, with carved ivory handle, silver
mounting and crest, etc. This would ensure the removal of the obnoxious
invention from the shanty; and, moreover, so O'Gaygun declared, the vile
thing would be an acceptable addition to a museum of Pakeha curiosities,
which, he said, Tama was collecting.

The next time that Tama visited us I formally presented him with the
umbrella, giving him the minutest instructions concerning the spreading
and furling of it. He had taken a strong fancy to me; and was much
pleased with the gift. His first inquiry was, naturally, what I expected
to get out of him by such a splendid gift. Knowing that it would be
futile to attempt to persuade him that I gave the thing freely, and
without expecting any return, I said that, although the umbrella was
worth a mere ponamu,[6] at least, yet that I should be satisfied if he
would give me a kitful of taro in exchange.

This thoroughly jumped with the old man's humour. Not only did he shake
hands with me, but he also accorded me the nose salutation. The rubbing
of noses is now disused; and when a Maori confers it on a Pakeha it
means an extra display of feeling, almost a making brotherhood. It was
the highest honour old Tama could pay me.

I thought I had fully explained to the reverend gentleman the uses of an
umbrella. I had over and over again hammered into him that it was meant
to protect one from rain. But it appears that the idea failed to reach
his mind.

When Tama left the shanty it looked threatening to rain, so I unfurled
the umbrella, and placed it open in his hand. He stumped off proudly
with it held above him. We watched him go down the clearing towards the
river, where his boat was moored. Presently it came on to rain in
earnest. Then Tama seemed to hesitat