"He summoned us all," said he, "to come close around him, and with much love exhorted us; talking energetically, as was his custom, a long while, he said:--'You well know that I have brought you, from time to time, much riches, muskets, powder, hatchets, knives, blankets. I afterwards heard of the new riches, called faith. I sought it. I went to Manawatu; in those days a long and perilous journey, for we were surrounded by enemies; no man travelled alone: I saw the few natives who, it was said, had heard of it; but they could not satisfy me. I sought further, but in vain. I heard afterwards of a white man at Otaki, and that with him was the spring where I could fill my empty and dry calabash. I travelled to his place, to Otaki, but in vain; he was gone--gone away ill. I returned to you, my children, dark minded. Many days passed by; the snows fell, they melted, they disappeared; the buds expanded, and the tangled paths of our low forests were again passable to the foot of the native man. At last we heard of another white man who was going about over mountains and through forests and swamps, giving drink from his calabash to the secluded native--to the remnants of the tribes of the mighty, of the renowned of former days, now dwelling by twos and threes among the roots of the big trees of the ancient forests, and among the long reeds by the rills in the valleys. Yes, my grandchildren, my and your ancestors, once spread over the country as the Koitarekè (_quail_) and Krivi (_apteryx_) once did; but now their descendants are even as the descendants of these birds, scarce, gone, dead, fast hastening to utter extinction. Yes, we heard of that white man; we heard of his going over the high snowy range to Patea, all over the rocks to Turakiráe. I sent four of my children to meet him. They saw his face; yes you, you talked with him. You brought me a drop of water from his calabash. You told me he had said he would come to this far-off isle to see me. I rejoiced, I disbelieved his coming; but I said he may. I built the chapel, we waited expecting. You slept at nights; I did not. He came, he emerged from the long forest, he stood upon Te Hawera ground. I saw him. I shook hands with him; we rubbed noses together. Yes, I saw a missionary's face; I sat in his cloth house (_tent_); I tasted his new food; I heard him talk Maori; my heart bounded within me; I listened; I ate his words. You slept at nights; I did not. Yes, I listened, and he told me about God, and his Son Jesus Christ, and of peace and reconciliation, and of a loving Father's home beyond the stars. And now I, too, drank from his calabash and was refreshed, he gave me a book, as well as words. I laid hold of the new riches for me, and for you, and we have it now. My