ARTHUR ADLAM—FRIEND OF TE RANGIHIROA. Arthur Adlam was suffering from his old war wound, and his doctor had forbidden him to go to the Okoki burial ground. But his thoughts were very much with the old school comrade with whom he had shared youthful memories, and who later became a world-famous figure. When Te Ao Hou visited Mr Adlam in his friendly home near Waitara he was able to throw interesting light on the date of Sir Peter's birth—a debated point. Mr Adlam was born in 1879, and at school had always understood that Sir Peter was two years older. That would make the year of Sir Peter's birth 1877, which agrees with the school register, though not with what Te Rangihiroa himself said in later life. Mr Adlam was in grave danger of being killed at birth by relatives of his Maori mother, who were incensed that she should have married a European. An old aunt took the baby in her arms saying, “Ataatua” (“beautiful”). The word saved his life and gave rise to the name Arthur. When he was seriously wounded in the first World War, Arthur Adlam found that his doctor was Peter Buck. For old times sake, his food-chart included a daily pint of Guinness stout.

helped to inspire progress; that he fought epidemics, and land sales, when they badly needed being fought, and that the great Maori population increase is due, to some extent, to his work for health. They knew that he left the country and became professor at Yale and the Director of the Bishop Museum at Honolulu, dancing his favourite haka to learned audiences wherever he travelled in many countries. They knew the story of those glorious days— “Kua po, kua po, kua awatea”— “It is night, it is night, it is dawn.” Then they had heard of the evening of his life, so painful through illness, but made wonderfully peaceful because he was so confident that “the dawn had broken” for his people, that his people were flourishing. The burial of Sir Peter Buck on August 5 to 8 has ended an epoch of great leaders. The four-day ceremony, in which the symbolically carved bier slowly proceeded, as is the tradition for burials of great chiefs, from one historic meeting house to another, ended in the solemn interment service at Okoki, and caused all to consider just where these leaders had left the Maori people. How do the three thousand Maoris who witnessed this last farewell, and the many others scattered throughout New Zealand, really face the future? This was an occasion for the drawing of new inspiration, an occasion for taking stock. At Otaki, in the Rangiatea Church with its strong Maori architecture, a young clergyman greeted Te Rangihiroa's ashes with a stirring oration in both Maori and English. Here, near the start of the journey was an interesting instance of the blend between Maori tradition and the new world visualised as an ideal by Buck and others and striven for now by many Maoris. Here he was conducting a service in Maori but the year before he had won a New Zealand wide contest in oratory sponsored