"TANE" THE GOOD-FORNOTHING.

Press, Volume LVIII, Issue 10954, 2 May 1901, Page 2

"TANE" THE GOOD-FOR-NOTHING.

Ut Dora \Vii.Li>_ao. Ao Tea Roa lay in her setting of green Pacific Ocean. There she lay, green and softly wooded, smiling in the sunshine, soft and mysteu'ousfy gloomy in her mists and rains, shadowed ever and anon with passing clouds. Her people, a dark and tattooed race with poetic fancy, not unusual in the coloured races, named her musically, Ao Tea Ron, the "hong Whit* Cloud." He who vr.-,t gave voice in the beautiful name, who shall tell. No Maori le-g.nd reveals his name, and hn must perforce remain in mystery. Perhaps it was one of the conouciois. one, of tiioie who came; sailing in long, slender, high-prnwed canoes, in the primeval days, a youthful warrior, greeting {lis new home, beautiful enough even for bis bride; or even some ancient brave, grey, bent, and wounded in many battles, dreaming ho saw in those wondrous green outlines ar.d snow-capped hills a place where he might rest in peace with his wives and children, without fear of lioslile tribes from neighbouring isles; where, in these broad kauri forests with no fear of over-crowding, ho might, establish his sons and his daughters, and then depart to the happy hunting grounds by Reinga Gates. AVha't wonder, then, that he who dreamed this exclaimed as he saw th-i promised land shrouded maybe in white mist seemingly poised Iwixt heaven and earth, Ao Tea Roa. In the days when the rnoa roamed free, when the. forests were thick on the land, before ever t!_a brave Dutchman had sailed Pacific waters, there lived in the northern island of Ao Tea Roa a beautiful maid of the triba of Nghnpuhi. Ina, they called hoc Straight an a kauri gum, lips as scarlet as tlie heart of a rata blossom or a kohi bloom, teeth as white us tho clematis, strong, free, and neible, was the Maori maid. The young warriors sought- her from tho north and the south, yea, oven those of different tribes, so that some had dreams of a universal peace, when the war-cry* should cense to ring in the land, Ina and Maui should wed, and the two most powerful tribes, the Nghapuhi and the Hau Hans, should amalgamate. But the heart of Ina was as snow. Love never had fchono in those eyes, that were deep, yet rippled by passing moods, as broad Taupo herself. Ina's father, a groat chief, was troubled because his daughter would not wed, and he consulted his tohunga, a wise rna.n. 'the tohunga said ho would do what he

could, and knowing, that, tie Spirit of ber fathers dwelt in the girl, he betsongh. himself of ths various legends with which he soften her heart. So he told that most b-.a_ti._l love story cf Hiitemoa. of the parted. lover., of Hiceino..s courageous swim to the island where her lover dwelt, sad how he found her in the morning, £_ the warm spring, where she had.taken shelter for the night. Bnt Ina would have rone of it. She said .- "Rather tell mc abeat Maui, the hero, he whose sister I am named after: he who died to gain immortality for our race. Oh! I could have loved Maui! Bat there are no such men nowadays." So the old wizard retold the legend of Maui. It was he who lassoed the sin with a rope of hi? sisters hair, and made the days longer; he brought the fire from the fingers of ths fire goddess, 'twas he who taught tattooing, and who fished the North Island '■■ from ocean depths, and he who, endeavonr- ; in j; to gain immortality for his people, died, because that flippant* little meddler, the sancv one who spreads his tail fan-wise, langned, waking the goblin goddess, through whose body Maui had to creep to f gain his prize, but Maoi failed. | The thought of Mani and his vain sacrifice filled In 3's heart with a wild longing to t*o and do likewise. She would steal away to the forest, stretch her brown young limbs ■ on a bed of fern, and gaze yearningly up at ■: the stars that glittered fitfully as the ; branches swayed. She talked to" them: for I Ina believed they were spirits watching I always. She told them of the lore she nursed in her heart for her land and her : peoole; could she not gain immortality for . them? - And the stars twinkled ever so ■ wisely, but answered never a word. j Maui, tie son of a great chief, sought Ina jin marriage. She liked him best of all her suitors because, he wi.s the namesake of her hero, and he was brave in battle and tender towards women, besides being tall and ! handsome, with the best tattooed face for j miles around. | Ina, however, steadily refused Maui's | love, though she iiked the Yifts of charm and feather that ha brought her. Touched by j his unwearying devotion, sh» gave him hei friendship, and by and by, as her respect for him grew, she told _iim of her secret hopes: told him the tale of Maui, all that the old tohunaa bad taught her. Then, so cunningly she went to work, she gradually sonnd.d Maui's views on the subject. "Would you not die for your country, Maui?" she asked. "I would die for you,'' he answered promptly. * "But to gain immortality for our race, Maui." she asked eagerly. He answered steadily, "That you can never do, biloved. There must, rise up one, when they who are white come from over the seas, when wo are as one in twenty, who shall be strong to gain immortality, not by dying, but by living ancl teaching." The light of prophesy shone in the young chief's eyes. "It is said," he went on quietly, "that a maiden shall die for her country, and be guardian spirit over such a one, should he come. But 'tis only a saying," he finished carelessly, regretting his words as he caught sight of the rapt expression on the girl's face. "Could I be that one?" she was asking herself. Ina loved to sit apart weaving her mats, away from the other maidens' laughter and chatter. Among themselves they nodded and chattered, "0 yes. she looks for Maui." In the soft springtime, when the evergreen matapns shone brighter than ever, turning their glittering leaves to the sunehine, when thousands of brown young fronds shot up and uncurled themssl yes from the parent roots, lying in masses round grey rocks and i tumbling streams, when the Tui poured forth I her b.ll notes through 'the ringing bush, 'twas then that the young chief Maui pleaded once more with Ina. In quick and glowing words he drew a picture, in which he saw Ina wellh.loved, Kurrourdc-d with little laughing facts, in a land at peace. Long did he plead, until gazing at the uplifted face beside him, j glorified with more than earthly love, he knew that in this life she was not for him. I Karly one morning, when the grey waters of Taupo were scarce astir, and the Eastern st_r was flickering in the coming day; in the great mysterious silence that precedes (he dawn, Ina walked steadily down to the lake shores. Her eyes were wet as she turned , them for the last time towards the Pah, j where her father and her brethren lay in unI conscious sleep, never dreaming of the tragedy so near them. She stretched out her hand."in yearning farewell to ths distant mountains and rippling bush, shuddering at the thought of that unknown world*, those unknown perils, she was about to pass into alone, then courageously thrusting such | thoughts from her, she uttered her farewell I cry. ?.nd plunged into Taupo. The lone star flickered out of sight as the waters closed over that beautifut form. The sun flashed over the mountains and the forest awoke. On the evening of that day (he young chief also sought broad Taupo" in search of his beloved. Long was the starch for the beautiful maid and! the chief Maui, and because they were not found, the tribes first slew their tohtingas, who, they said, had bewitched the young loyers away, and finally turned round and slew one another, almost to the extermination of both tribes. Hundreds of years after the tragic death of Ina and Maui. Maui's strange prophecy came to pass. For people in such canoes as Maui's wildest dream had never pictured came, and* took possession of the laud. For many years after this, there was war, ceaseless atid»bloody, as war must always be. Then the conquered race submitted sullenly to their fate. They forgot the art of building double canoes, they almost forgot the legends of their race. But not quite, for they still loved the land 6f their forefathers, they who had sailed and found, when emaciated and almost spent, this land of tho rata and kauri. Surely the spirit of Ina must have yearned over her people, if she still guarded, and watched, as the wise affirmed, if she saw her people, idle and slothful, falling into vices, losing that strength of manhood once their pride. The years ground on, until in the heart of the mountains, in a small pah, a little boy was born. He was in nowise different from other Maori babies, he was round and fat, his wardrobe, a scant one, consisted of an old feather mat, many sizes too big, when he did wear it. Ho was of good birth, though i

I it made no sort of difference to him, poor ! bibe, if his father did belong to an ancient | "line of chiefs. His father was dead, drowned I while fishing, his mother had di«d in giving him birth. Before she had started on her journey to Muri Whenua, where. Rohe. the ferry-woman, awaits all spirits, this young mother had pointed out a star, glittering straight down through the whare door. "It is Ina, she will take care of my babe," shs said, and then had died, taking, in her turn, the spirit's leap. A fat roundabout woman, with many brown babies of her own, took the little orphan to her capacious bosom. He thrived and grew, presently discarding altogether the old feather mat. and tumbled about in the warm spring with the other children. He made one especial friend of a little girl, whose name was Niwa, and she constituted herself his guardian angel. She made him a present of an old pocket knife, she had once found; it had but. one blade, and the point was broken off that- It was a great treasure, and Niwa had kept it hidden, looking at it when no one was about. But one day she rubbed her soft little nose against it, and then presented it to Tane. Tana was delighted with it. He forsook the warm springs, and carved all the little bite of wood he could get hold of; he copied the carving in front of the whares, especially delighting in tracing hideous faces, with their tongues lolling out, until Niwa up and told him she didn . like them; they made her dream. After that he set to work and carved for her a lovely fern, with curling fronds and a withered" leaf, drooping forlornly; yes, there it was all complete. This magnificent present. Niwa hung round her neck with a bit of string. She thanked Tane volubly and pleased him enough to encourage him in carving ferns, and even rata bkssoms, but he always went back to the faces, though he tried to make them prettier. Niwa and Tane grew into the habit of wandering away together. While Tane carved Niwa would -ing. She had a wonderful ear for music, and her voice was a pure contralto, exquisitely sweet and sympathetic. Nature alone had taught her, and the child listened to the birds, and they taught her to sing as they did, sweetly, joyously, only she used words of her" own interpretation. "Listen, Tane, they are saying" how blue the sky is, and how cold and high the mountains are, such very big things, and that the bush is the best place of all to live in for little birds, and Tane, they <_ro so happy that they feel as if they could rise up to Rang!, up above the clouds there." Then she woidd sing about it and Tane would say "Go on, go on? I can carve better whilst you sing, Niwa." But Tane was getting too big a boy now to waste all his time in carving ugly faces, all the old women told him, for when Tane was wanted to plant potatoes or to dig them, or to make baskets and mats to sell to the totirists, Tane was not to be found. He only turned up when the potatoes were cooked. So a rod was found for Tane. Then something wonderful happened, so wonderful that in after days he used to oatoh. his breath sharply at the very wonder of it. Tane had run away from the rod, and sat with his too., in a warm spring, busily carving. He was carving a flax bush growing near, and it sprang like magic under Tane's blunt blade. While he carved, all unknown to him, a gentleman, a tourist, watched him. That was the beginning of a new life for Tane. The gentleman was rich and a sculptor, and on discovering that Tane was an orphan, and a las?,v good for nothing, he carried him off, nothing loth. The only person who grieved very much when Tane departed was Niwa. She wept pitcously even when he promised to come back "some day" and marry her. "But "some, day" was very vague and poor comfort. Niwa often crept to the old haunts, and used to rub her soft little nose caressingly against the "hide carving Tane had given her. Time passed on, as time always does, especially when you are not thinking of it, and so years rolled away. Niwa still heard faint rumours of Tane, chiefly through

newspapers, for Niwa had be?a Vstj-l and had learnt to read qnd writY srwr»if all to sing. Ah, how sheYonld'sing * 1 Tane had even sailed over tha sea', fe.il seemed to bound the end of the.-"*"'! and he had become a great was rich too. Tho man who )hi m*,! him away ha. adopted him. and kd\*l him a great deal of metier. T lta « _V built a college with some of it; itw._ esi? ' for those of his own race, and * taught, there. He had awakened the *&sh of the young men, and they _a_ eager to listen and learn to'hseOßHs cc« more a great people. Yes! T.*u* \ great man cow, and must have fojW gotten the little maid whom he issd mised to come back and marry "S9_» ew* and then at this sta-je of her rererie 'Jffo would laugh a little and sigh 3 tjjjk looking once more at a dingy lut_eayi c ., that was more precious than heatea ©M 1. her. People were talking of a new »& had arisen in the firmament of the &_ia_ world. Though how a Maori girl ihqdi become possessed of such a voice, toaStd' many. Such a voice; it thritjed orVs very soul as a lark's carolling doeij in _v early spring, rich and soft and .sweet a \ lifa I Tane went to hear her. Nor did _■ 1 recognise her. how should he? She to" robed in shimmering white, her only craament a small black thing, a charm {_rb_M [ suspended from her neck by a thin goS 1 chain. * , 1 When she began to sing, strange tm- j mories throbbed in Tane's bre-nst. memorise § that seemed an old song, snug in a -flarl way. Then he remembered. He rat al one in a dream. This then must b= Kirn. I It seemed beyond all possibility, but tfef was the carving he had given her, thajl he had no laboriously chipped for her wiif: 1 the old blunt knife." That was the Kiffl.l rich voice that used to sing 'of the birds 1 and the sun, and the big cold i_o__tain_| It was like a voice in a* dream. I In after days Niwa beewne the wife oil Tane. They ' worked together for ik_| people, with one mind and heart and tt_l.§ Who shall say that Ilia's long vigil hadS been in vain. ■ I On their wedding night they stood "to J gether under the silent stars," and 'Ttt.l--pointed up. "Look, Ina still watch?;.* I But when they looked again Ina was go® I