door was shut; the fire had burnt down, leaving nothing but glowing charcoal. The room was oppressively hot. The light was little better than darkness, and the part of the room in which the _tohunga_ sat was now in perfect darkness. Suddenly, without the slightest warning, a voice came out of the darkness. "Salutation!--salutation to you all!--salutation!--salutation to you, my tribe!--family, I salute you!--friends, I salute you!--friend, my pakeha friend, I salute you!" The high-handed, daring imposture was successful; our feelings were taken by storm. A cry expressive of affection and despair, such as was not good to hear, came from the sister of the dead chief, a fine, stately, and really handsome woman of about five-and-twenty. She was rushing, with both arms extended, into the dark, in the direction from whence the voice came. She was instantly seized round the waist and restrained by her brother by main force, till moaning and fainting she lay still on the ground. At the same instant another female voice was heard from a young girl who was held by the wrists by two young men, her brothers. "Is it you?--is it you?--_truly_ is it you?--_aue! aue!_ they hold me, they restrain me; wonder not that I have not followed you; they restrain me, they watch me, but I go to you. The sun shall not rise, the sun shall not rise, _aue! aue!_" Here she fell insensible on the rush floor, and with the sister was carried out. The remaining women were all weeping and exclaiming, but were silenced by the men, who were themselves nearly as much excited, though not so clamorous. I, however, did notice two old men, who sat close to me, were not in the slightest degree moved in any way, though they did not seem at all incredulous, but quite the contrary. The spirit spoke again. "Speak to me, the tribe!--speak to me, the family!--speak to me, the pakeha!" The "pakeha," however, was not at the moment inclined for conversation. The deep distress of the two women, the evident belief of all around him of the presence of the spirit, the "darkness visible," the novelty of the scene, gave rise to a state of feeling not favourable to the conversational powers. Besides, I felt reluctant to give too much apparent credence to an imposture, which at the very same time, by some strange impulse, I felt half ready to give way to. At last the brother spoke. "How is it with you?--is it well with you in _that_ country?" The answer came--(the voice all through, it is to be remembered, was not the voice of the _tohunga_, but a strange melancholy sound, like the sound of the wind blowing into a hollow vessel),--"It is well with me; my place is a good place." The brother spoke again. "Have you seen ----, and ----, and ----?" (I forget the names mentioned.) "Yes, they are all with me." A woman's voice now from another part of the room anxiously cried out, "Have you seen my sister?" "Yes, I have seen