roaming dogs were all seized, tied up, and fed till claimed by their owners. Every morning at 6 o'clock the bugle sounded the Reveille, and there were services in various parts according to the rites of various denominations. From that moment the camp lived by rule: Breakfast at 8 (brought from the ‘hangis’); dinner at 1; tea at 5; and lights out at 11 p.m. Lastly, for the enforcement of these regulations there was an elaborate list of penalties. Most of these were doubled in the case of repetition of the offence for which they were provided. The heaviest of all was deprivation of the right to see the Duke during the whole or part of his stay at Rotorua. Looking into the sleeping-places, if you were privileged to walk around with Dr Pomare and Mr W. W. Hipango—full of responsibility—you saw the mirror of civilisation in abundan- Sir James Carroll, moving spirit behind the Maori reception. Photo: Turnbull Library ce, and the comb and brush of cleanliness appeared to be the rule, not the exception. Various little knick-knacks drew attention to improvised toilet-tables; sheeting was by no means rare, neither were mats and other contrivances for coming between the ground and the foot of Maori nobility. Hangings were not infrequent, and decorations (of flower and foliage for the most part) were both abundant and graceful, telling unmistakably of dainty fingers, and eyes instinctively appreciative of form and colour. The large number of Maoris coming from all parts met without friction (despite the provocations of tradition and recent wars); settled quietly to discipline without hesitation, and at their departure took with them to every part of Maoridom the principles of sanitary practice which have helped to secure the preservation of the race. It was a great opportunity for the Native Minister, for Dr Pomare, for the Young Maori party, and all concerned. PREPARATIONS There was a curious mingling of the old and new. Deeply tattooed warriors, some of whom had witnessed a cannibal feast, rubbed noses with young men who rode bicycles and pounded the big drum in the brass band. In dress an effective compromise was effected. Over a creaseless frock coat fresh from the hands of the pakeha tailor a Maori mat was thrown, and a belltopper surmounted the combination. A high-born lady decked in silk of bright hues yet wore a ‘piupiu’ round her waist and a ‘heitiki’ round her neck. It was one huge fancy ball, full of fantastic anachronisms characteristic of a time of transition. The past was revived, and mingled with stately dignity in the whirl of the present, seeking to grasp the bewildering changes that a century of contact with civilisation had effected. The sound of rehearsing was heard from early morning till far into the night. The large circus-tent that served as central rununga-house and town hall was engaged by each tribe in succession for the practice of its ‘peruperu’, ‘Haka’ or ‘poi’. In the early morning, before morning prayer and breakfast, the wardance parties, armed with ‘taiaha’ or ‘koikoi’, held practice in the cleared spaces among the manuka south-east of the camp, where experts keenly watched the ‘tutu-waewae’ or step, and the close ranks rent the still air with mad shouts in the wild excitement of the ‘peruperu’. Each tribe was careful to conceal the peculiarities of step and gesture on which it depended for success in the friendly competition with other tribes. The wiry Ngapuhi from the north were less jealous, for twice every day,