Anona: A Maori Story.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXVI, Issue 10, 10 March 1906, Page 56

Anona: A Maori Story.

By Irma AL O’Connor. Auckland, age 14. The long, slanting rays of the setting sun clearlv outlined the tall, athletic figure of a young Englishman, as he stood motionless against the calm evening sky. on a high hill covered with long waving grass. His face, though not handsome, was pleasant to look upon a clever, honest face,*with a strong, firm mouth, clear-cut features, and frank blue eyes. A gentle breeze blew from the sea, playing on his bare head and cooling his heated temples, as he stood, hat in hand, gazing in admiration too deep for words at the beautiful scene below. Away to the left stretched broad acres of scorched, waving grass, broken here and there by a little clump of flax bushes or a group of tall nikau p;dms, In front rolled the mighty ocean, a wide expanse of glittering blue, winding in ami out of dozens of little bays, where lapping waves kissed the yellow sandy beaches, strewn with countless tiny treasures of the seashore. In and out, in and out. a shimmering blue band, edged with foamy white, and lying strangely peaceful in the sweet, warm flush of evening. On the right was dense bush —tall, grand old forest trees, bound together with tangled masses of trai ng. flowering creepers, with here a vivi I splash of crimson made by a clinging . ita, and there a silvery stream trickling, like a gossamer thread, down the hillside; while beneath thick carpets of moss and dense feathery ferns made a feast for the’eye. This, then, was New Zealand, this wonderful fairyland of sunshine and flowers, of gloomy grandeur and wild, romantic loveliness. This was the sunny land for artists and poets to dream of: this was the faraway island home of the Maori warrior, the little, known isles of the Southern Seas, to which he. Colin Lindsay, had come a stranger, but a few days ago; and in three weeks now it would be Christmas Day. He mused thus for some time, watching in dreamy admiration as the King of Day died in lonely, glorious splendour. Golden and crimson and varying shades of purple and orange was the western sky. as the great fiery hall dropped slowly behind the hills. For an instant it seemed to disappear, then suddenly shot one last dying gleam across the harbour, lighting up sea and sky in a flood of sunset glory, making a shimmering golden path across tlie glittering sea. widening, spreading, till it made

one think of the golden stairs which lead to the life Eternal, then dropped behind the hills. One more day was desid, one more sun had set on earth. For some minutes t'u’.in Lindsay stood watching with unseeing eyes the darkening waters, as night prepared to draw her curtains across the sky, and light the myriad lamps of heaven. His mind was too much occupied with the splendour of the scene he had just witnessed to take in any more beauty just now, and after a short interval he began to walk slowly and thoughtfully in the direction of the bush. A short walk brought him to the bush track, and he strode noiselessly and quickly along, for it would be dark before he reached home if he did not hurry, and his friends would wonder what had become of him. As he got deeper into the bush he passed under a cool, thick, green tunnel of interlaced boughs and creepers. All round him stood the majestic monarchs of the forest, their trunks hidden under a cloak of luxuriant green, and now and then a silvery fern-frond brushed his arm. A peaceful, intense stillness, broken only by the lazy musical ripple of some distant stream, or tlie gentle rustle of leaves, prevailed over everything. The great, silent forest was a small, beautiful world in itself. Suddenly the young man came out on to a small open clearing in the trees, and stood still in surprise and not a little admiration. Standing with her hare arms clasped at the back of her head was a young Maori girl, with her face half turned to-

wards him. Her figure was slight and graceful, her bare feet were small and shapely, and her waveless hair, glossy and jet black, flowed loosely over her shoulders like a rich cloak. The small dark features were regular and wellformed. and as she stood there in her quaint Maori dress, with her bare head thrown back a little, and the lonely forest for a background, she completed and beautified a charming picture. She looked what she was, a child of the forest, unchecked and unspoilt, the young and lovely mistress of it all. Her somewhat sombre style of beauty was exactly in keeping with the silent, gloomy grandeur of her surroundings. In a civilised country she would have seemed out of place, and, though he had not yet spoken to her, he realised at once that she was different in some way from the other Maori girls he knew. After a few minutes’ hesitation Colin went forward a few steps, intending to pass on, but the girl heard his footsteps, turned instantly, resting, a pair of very soft, dark eyes on his faee. Wonderful eyes they were—large and flashing, with a yearning tenderness, and the hungry, impossible longings of a noble soul in their sad depths. She moved forward at once with a slow, easy grace, ami held out a small brown hand. “You are the young Englishman who is staying with my white friends at Akarana House,” she said in perfect English. “Is it not so? I have heard much of you already from Mr King.” “I confess I have not the pleasure of knowing you,” he answered, somewhat

startled at her ready recognition of him, and also at hearing her speak in his native tongue. “Yes, ray name is Lindsay, and 1 am on a visit to New Zealand. Perhaps you are the young lady of whom Mr King often speaks, and whom I think he calls Nona?” “Yes,” she answered, “my name is Anona, or Nona, as I am generally called; and what do you think of my country?” “It is grand, wonderful,” Colin said enthusiastically. “We have nothing

like this in my country—nothing so wild, so splendid. It is sueh a mixture of awful grandeur and peaceful beauty. Never have I visited such a place before. Ah! if those ignorant English people who think so little of New Zealand, and know next to nothing about it, could see this, I think they would change their foolish opinions,” and his eye wandered over the darkening sea, the peaceful hills, and the dark, dense forest behind. “Ah!” Nona said quickly. Her eyes sparkled, and her lips parted in a

pleased smile, showing even white teeth. "You like it? lam so glad. 1 love it; but then it is my home,” and she made an expressive gesture ul delight. Colin listened to her glowing words in some wonder. He had uot supposed a Maori capable of uiueh line feeling or appreciation of Nature’s beauties, and this girl's glowing speech, her pride and pleasure in his enthusiastic praise of her country, came as a revelation to him. Surely, he thought to himself, Nona was an uncommon girl. “You are fond of it all—fond of Nature, then?” he said inquiringly. “Nature! Ah, yes! The hills and trees and Howers are all my friends, almost my only friends,” she said, bitterly. “You have no—no relations, then?” Colin said, very gently. “No, 1 have nobody. 1 am a despised Maori girl, a creature whom nobody wants,” the girl answered with increasing bitterness, the bitterness of despair, and drew a quick, sobbing breath. The next instant she had conquered her emotion, and appeared bright and cheerful again. “I must go now,” she said. “See how dark it is getting. I did not mean to stay out so long. Well, 1 hope 1 shall see you again some other time. Goodbye, Mr Lindsay,” and before he could reply she was gone.

(To be continued.)