A man--a petty chief--had a serious quarrel with his relations, left his tribe, and went to a distant part of the country, saying that he cast them off, and would never return. After a time the relations became both uneasy at his absence and sorry for the disagreement. The presence of the head of the family was also of consequence to them. They therefore inquired of the oracle if he would return. At night the _tohunga_ invoked the familiar spirit, he became inspired, and in a sort of hollow whistle came the words of fate:--"He will return, but yet not return." This response was given several times, and then the spirit departed, leaving the priest or _tohunga_ to the guidance of his own unaided wits. No one could understand the meaning of the response. The priest himself said he could make nothing of it. The spirit of course knew his own meaning; but all agreed that, whatever that meaning was, it would turn out true. Now the conclusion of this story is rather extraordinary. Some time after this several of the chief's relations went to offer reconciliation and to endeavour to persuade him to return home. Six months afterwards they returned, bringing him along with them _a corpse_; they had found him dying, and carried his body home. Now all knew the meaning of the words of the oracle, "He will return, but yet not return." Another instance, which I witnessed myself, was as follows:--A captain of a large ship had run away with a Maori girl; or a Maori girl had run away with a ship captain; I should not like to swear which is the proper form of expression; and the relations, as in such cases happens in most countries, thought it incumbent on them to get into a great taking, and make as much noise as possible about the matter. Off they set to the _tohunga_; I happened to be at his place at the time, and saw and heard all I am about to recount. The relations of the girl did not merely confine themselves to asking questions, they demanded active assistance. The ship had gone to sea loaded for a long voyage. The fugitives had fairly escaped; and what the relations wanted was that the _atua_, or familiar spirit of the _tohunga_, should bring the ship back into port, so that they might have an opportunity to recover the lost ornament of the family. I heard the whole. The priest hummed and hawed. "He did not know, could not say. We should hear what the 'boy' would say. He would do as he liked. Could not compel him;" and so forth. At night all assembled in the house where the priest usually performed. All was expectation. I saw I was _de trop_ in the opinion of our soothsayer; in fact, I had got the name of an infidel (which I have since taken care to get rid of), and the spirit was unwilling to enter the company of unbelievers. My friend the priest hinted to me politely that a nice bed had been made for me in the next house. I thanked him in the most approved Maori fashion, but said I was "very