Splice flax almost halfway up, and then beginning from splice, hold topside of flax firmly against makoi with right hand braced on right knee, draw firmly and slowly over makoi with left hand, gaining in momentum as root end is reached. In a day or two a huge pile of flax will have disappeared, and in its stead rows of snowy white muka hang along the rafters of the old kauta to dry. Then begins another tricky and tedious process—that of miro-ing (two-plying) the muka into the various thicknesses required, first head and tailing strands for even thickness. Whenu (foundation strands) thick, aho (weaving strands) very thin. So the work goes on, interspersed with sometimes gay banter, sometimes in more serious vein, sometimes broken by a visit from one of the menfolk, which never fails to bring forth much teasing and laughter. Then, perhaps, supplies in all fields become low, and the eyes of the ‘lady in charge’ will look over the little groups, a few quiet words, and two or three renowned ‘cutters’ will leave the premises. Then an ancient truck of questionable model can be seen laboriously making its way up a side road and grunting and snorting its disapproval, as it disappears into the hills, to return surprisingly soon, with a load of fresh, green, rustling flax, and the ‘cutters’ with happy, smiling faces. Another day they may step into a bright blue V8, or a classy little Austin, but the cargo is invariably the same — flax, flax and more flax, and why not? Is not the goal in sight? Ten more piupiu, twenty-eight more tipare (head gear), and two more tateka (wrap). One of them is for a pakeha girl, because she's just as good at poi as our girls! And so the work goes happily on. It's not easy, pro- He korero paki: Poutu Hihiti is speaking. (Desgranges.) gress is quite slow, the workers are willing, but not always wise; the conditions are not as comfortable as at home; but progress is sure, hopes are high. The work and workers were blessed by the aged Apotoro (Apostle) on the first day of the gathering. The men are pleased. And so our story ends! Tatou, tatou, iroto i te whare kotahi!! Boy being taught by Mrs D. R. Te Kanawa. (Desgranges.)