The latter's father was the Rev. Dr John Buck, a Fellow of Trinity College, Dublin, and the occupant of three livings within the gift of the College. Adam Buck, the miniaturist (to whom sat George IV), was a cousin of Dr John Buck's. There is no mention, as far as I am aware, of the name of Neal in the family tree. Mr Roydhouse also states that Sir Peter's mother was Ngarongo ki tua. It is true that Sir Peter referred to Ngarongo in print as his mother. But, actually, she was his foster-mother. Sir Peter Buck's mother was Rina, a cousin once removed to Ngarongo. The child was certainly reared by Ngarongo, who has been described to me by those who knew her as a cripple, because Rina died early. That Rina was his mother is confirmed by a whakapapa in Sir Peter's own handwriting, which I found among his personal papers in Honolulu, also by the statements of Maori informants still living at Urenui. Therefore, Kapuakore was not Sir Peter's grandmother but, to use Mr Roydhouse's own phrase, ‘in point of fact’, his great-aunt. Of course, she was his kuia, and he regarded her as such. I have an unpublished tribute to her by Sir Peter, which is among the most delightful of his writings. Neither can Lady Buck be referred to as a ‘nursing sister’ during the First World War. A more appropriate term would have been to describe her as a V.A.D. However, that is a minor point. Mr Roydhouse paid me the compliment of repeating a statement that I published some years ago, but which I have since known to be incorrect. It was not the Rev. J. C. Andrew, of Ica Station, Wairarapa, who was responsible for Sir Peter entering Te Aute College. Sir Peter denied that statement, which I had published in good faith. In point of fact, he wrote his own application, and waited six months before it was acknowledged. Going to Te Aute was entirely his own idea. On arrival there he was asked who had written the application, and replied: ‘I did.’ Unfortunately, Sir Peter Buck is already a subject for legend. As your journal is the first to my knowledge to have published the statement that his name was really Neal, I hope you will either substantiate it or give my letter the same publicity. Also, some of Sir Peter's friends of long standing feel that a journal such as yours which, obviously, aims to set a standard, should have refrained from addressing him familiarly as ‘Peter’: either his title should have been used or he should have been referred to, simply, as Buck. Eric Ramsden

The statement that Sir Peter Buck's father's real name was William Henry Neal is entirely Mr Roydhouse's responsibility. Mr Ramsden suggests all this would never have been published had Sir Peter been alive. Of course Te Ao Hou would, in that case, have gone to Sir Peter for information and advice. But that is now impossible, and only a full investigation of all the facts will reveal the truth about William Henry. Correspondence on this subject is now closed.—The Editor, Te Ao Hou.

A GRATEFUL PAKEHA Sir,—I am a pakeha who wishes to go on record as one who is grateful to the Maori people. They rounded out my education when, as a child, I first had anything to do with them, and it appears to me that they have a great destiny. When I started at my second primary school I had never seen, as far as I could remember, a Maori, although I must have seen some at my birthplace, Otaki. At this new school there were over a hundred Maori children. It was here that I first saw the haka, the poi dance, and the action song, and although we were not the biggest school in the district, we had the best haka party. When prominent people, or the School Inspectors visited the school, we entertained them with poetry and song, but only so that we could save the best until the last. Our star items were hakas, poi dances and action songs—action songs with the rhythm beaten out with pot lids. It did not matter what was used to mark the time, the grace of movement fascinated us all. Our football team had Maori stars, its hero was a Maori All Black, and the Maoris added to games which became bitter a joke or a laugh which saved the day. As children we never realised how often our Maori friends laughed. Our one trouble was that our Maori footballers passed the age limit while they were at school, and could no longer play. We lost the championship one year because of a Maori boy's birthday. In those days many Maori children started school late, and we had a boy who started in “Tiny Tots” (as they were called), when he was thirteen. After twenty years the Maori people have come a long way, and now this only happens rarely. The last time I visited my old school none of the Maori children were out of their proper standard for their ages. I can remember in those days how many Maoris found English harder than the pakehas. Many of their parents had never been to school at all, and could not help them. Such expressions as ‘I came by walk it’, and ‘the calf