moana, at Maungapohatu. When the Maori school at Te Whaiti opened in 1890 this long since departed veteran of Te Kooti's campaign, who was completely immersed in his own culture, brought his grandchildren to the school to be educated. He even braved the disapproval of his tohunga in allowing them contact with the tapuless Pakeha that they might learn about the new world. Tutakangahau specially requested that the children should be taught the ways and customs of the white man. Then he addressed to them these words which, judged by any standards, were full of wisdom and a sound lesson in behaviour. “Should the Pakeha correct or chide you,” he said, “you must not be angry or sullen—that is a token of ignorance and low birth. It is by such correction that you shall learn to live well in this world”. Another of these farseeing patriachs was Paitini Wi Tapeka of Ngati Maru, also a contemporary of Te Pairi. He was born in 1844, fought against the British at Orakau, marched with Te Kooti, and was steeped in the ancient culture of his people. Yet, he believed the future of his race lay in the Maori retaining the best of his own and the European way of life. Even when Tuhoe was tearing up the survey pegs on the Te Whaiti-Ruatahuna road line, Paitini was giving of his wealth of knowledge to be recorded for the inspiration of future generations. Given the advantages of modern education, men Elsdon Best and Paitini. like Te Pairi, Tutakangahau, and Paitini, would no doubt have ranked with Ngata, Buck and other great leaders who refashioned Maori society and adjusted it to western standards. In any case they will go down in history among the thinkers who pioneered the new age.

II. Pat Smyth by Melvin Taylor Patrick Smyth's death last May marked the close of an era in the history of St. Stephen's school, Bombay. In his 44 years' association with the school he became one of its traditions. He loved St. Stephen's—the predominantly Maori school standing like a sentinel in the Bombay hills, commanding the southern approach to Auckland. In fact, he loved the Maori people. It was not always so. Though a half-caste Maori himself, as a lad he disliked the Maoris. It was when learning the Maori language and traditions, to teach Maori boys English that he learned to love the people. He became one of the Maori champions. As a child he had tried to wash the brown off his face with soap and water. In Auckland he would cross the street to avoid the kuias sitting on the pavement. Smyth was born in the remote, bush-bound settlement of Pungare, Keri Keri, in 1893. The settlement was made up of five scattered homes surrounded by a sea of gorse, bush, ti-tree, fern, and acres of rush-covered swamps. His mother was a chieftainess from Waihou, Hokianga. His father was an Irishman who had come out to New Zealand in the army to fight in the Maori wars. Only English was spoken in the home so the boy had no chance to learn Maori there. He was 16 when he first went to St. Stephen's—the place he called home up to within a few months of his death 44 years later. He knew this home from all angles. From ordinary schoolboy he made his way to prefect, head boy, junior assistant, senior assistant, acting headmaster and, finally, headmaster. Young Smyth was a real backblocker when he