"A PASSING RACE."

Otago Witness, Issue 2913, 12 January 1910, Page 87

"A PASSING RACE."

By B. Sloan. There is always an indescribable pathos in reminiscence, and all unconsciously old Burn Ropata felt it to-night as she stepped 1 from her low, thatched whar© into the gathering gloom of the New Zealand night. Down in the river-bed she could hear the soft voices of the other Maoris, laughing

and chatting with each other, as they spent the evening spearing the patiki and torching the ©el, or wading- in the shallow _ waters of the lagoon. But Ruru was in the mood for company to-night. • She drew her worn shawl around her, sat down in an old canoe, and' was scon deep in meditation. All around h.er lay the fair lands —once owned by her ancestors, and now the property of the prosperous pakeha. Over the still waters Ruru could hear the rapid thud-thud! of his motor boat as he sped homewards in the waning twilight. "Ah! ah!" the old wahine muttered sadly and significantly to herself as she closed her tired eyes. "Ah! ah! the day of the Maori is almost done."

The evening hours stole on; the summer moon shone over the plashing waters. A radiant smile lit up the scarred features of the old Maori. Ruru was back in the past again. She saw the meeting of the warlike, tribes in the old-time pa; she saw the tamiariki (children) dance the poi and the haka; she heard the plish-plash of the canoes and the glad songs of wahines and warriors.

Morning dawned. Ruru was still in the old canoe, but her spirit bad gone to join these of her ancestors elsewhere.

Soon the light canoes will vanish from our shores; soon this gay laughter-loving race will pass into oblivion. The day of the flint axe and tomahawk has passed away for ever, and soon there will remain to us only the memory of a brave brown race and their noble characteristics.