‘hoeroa’, ‘timata’, ‘taiaha’, ‘toko’ of the greenstone with rare carvings, ‘tiki’ and ornaments of every class, variety and degree. Tribe vied with tribe to swell the crowd of donors; Hauhau warriors jostled fragile ‘poi’ girls in the throng; veteran and boy struggled along in equality of fervour. During the presentation an ancient chief, with orthodox and plentiful tattoo, made up for the bluntness of him who had set all these gifts in motion. He advanced bearing a priceless polished two-handed whalebone sword (‘hoeroa’), gave the Duke the magnificent bow of hospitality, together with the broad smile of kindness, and deposited the weapon with great reverence in his hands. His Royal Highness having reciprocated the courtesy, the old man retired backwards, smiling broadly and repeatedly bowing. He gave us the rare spectacle of courtesy not only spontaneous, but finished — a combination probably rarely found in any Royal or Imperial Court of the civilized world. The gifts came from everywhere, and the Maori drew largely on his ancient treasures to furnish them. Moreover, many gifts were spontaneous — the chieftainess and other women suddenly tearing off their precious ornaments to lay them on the growing heap.

IV. A POI DANCE A shout and a call of ‘Haere mai’, a tumultuous waving of branches and poi-balls, a tremendous brandishing of weapons, greeted the approach of Royalty. As the party mounted the stand the Tuhoe drum-and-fife band struck up the National Anthem. At once the ‘poi’ ranks bowed to the knee, while the mass of warriors behind, with one stentorian shout, raised their spears and ‘taiahas’ aloft, then sank crouching on the ground. As the strains of the National Anthem died away the Ngaiterangi women advanced in two ranks—their two leaders, both men, one at each end and slightly ahead—to dance the ‘poi’. The right leader opened with a chant, and ere he paused to take breath the left leader caught the measure, and so the song alternated from right to left and back again. Between them the ranks, in perfect time, quickening as the measure hurried on, accompanied the song with the ‘poi’—the ‘poi’ of which the Maoris sing: ‘How my heart longs for the poi-leaf, How beautiful a flower it is to grace Thy breast; my love.’ The poi-balls twirled; the hands twirling them moved up and down, sideways, backwards and forwards, hovering now over the shoulders, now over and across the knees, the flying balls appearing to surround with a network of gossamer the bodies of the dancers as they swayed from side to side, lifting alternate feet and throwing them across gently in front with a lilting motion, giving the effect partially of a waltz step. The women were handsome and shapely; they waved with grace; they sang soft words of welcome with musical voice in exact accord of time, in a strangely attractive monotone; they did it with flashing teeth and smiling lips, and beaming great eyes, as they kept their ‘pois’ twirling and waving with daintiest play of arm and wrist, and the rhythmic swaying of bodies from side to side. Sometimes the song was of welcome, sometimes it saddened and slowed down to a weird lament for the Queen; again it quickened, with a note of triumph as the maidens bowed ‘Kia ora’ to the Duke and Duchess, and wished long life to the King and Queen far across the ocean; then it wandered gracefully over many appropriate topics. The effect was superb. The soft voices, the ordered motion, the bright colours of dress and mat and ‘piupiu’ moving with brilliant beauty, together with the white albatross feathers in the black hair, completed a singularly gracious, delicate example of the poetry of motion. At length came the end, like the finale of some admired composition the approach of which gives the absorbed listener a pang of regret. As the ‘pois’ flashed overhead the command suddenly rang out. The poetry and the movement ceased at once, the flashing colours were still, the infinite variety of the faces gave place to a settled gravity, and in the same instant each poi-ball came down over the right breast of its owner, and was caught firmly in her left hand. Then the shining ranks bowed once more to the knee; a long, steady, courteous salute. Having bowed they filed off with dainty precision, disclosing the massed ‘matuas’ in the second line; and as they went, thunders of applause went with them from enthusiastic Royalty and all the assembled shouting people, pakeha and Maori. The old Maoris say that the ‘poi’ dances of their time were even more effective; the strings used with the poi-balls being far longer; some six feet, and extending the picturesque gossamer effect of the twirling balls; the dancers being necessarily in extended order, and the display more imposing. The old dance was slower, and allowed more time for the display of grace and the elaboration of gesture. The ostensible object of the ‘poi’ from the first was to give graceful welcome to strangers (‘manuhiri’), visiting tribes, ‘tino rangatira’, and other persons of distinction. But gradually there grew up another object, which was to attract (Continued on page 58)