Thus is it with regard to the specimens of savage art, no matter in what way it is developed. Taking New Zealand as an example, there is not in England a single specimen of a Maori house. It could be easily taken to pieces and put together again; it is peculiarly valuable to ethnologists on account of the extraordinary mixture which it displays of ancient Egyptian architecture and ancient Mexican art; and in a very few years there will not be a single specimen of aboriginal architecture in the whole of New Zealand. The Maories, who have abandoned the club for the rifle, the mat for the blanket, and even the blanket for the coat and trousers, have begun to modify their ancient architecture, and to build houses after the European models. Unless, therefore, means be taken to rescue specimens of Maori architecture from destruction, it is much to be doubted whether in twenty years’ time from the present date a single specimen will exist as a type of native art. So it is with the canoes. Graceful, picturesque, and adorned with the finest specimens of Maori art, the canoes were unique among vessels. At the present day the more useful but more commonplace whaleboat has superseded the canoe, and in a few years the elaborately decorated vessels of the Maories will have utterly passed away. We may be sure that the tide of civilization is sweeping so rapidly over the world, that a very few years will see the end of savage life in all lands to which the white man can gain access. The relics of the ancient mode of life are left by the natives to perish, and, unless they are rescued, and brought to a country where they can be preserved, they will necessarily vanish from the face of the earth. Having this idea in my own mind, I set myself some years ago to collect articles of daily use from all parts of the world. The light which they throw upon anthropology is really astonishing, and, among some eight or nine hundred specimens, there is not one that does not tell its own story.