to watch them at work, and they made a fine picture as they sat around chatting and smoking as Granny Tomoana did her work. Those were easy, unhurried days, and it was common to see eight or nine kaumatua gathered around at our home, smoking and talking. Another of our elders, who lived not far from us, was a learned orator, and often journeyed to far off meetings and tangis, and when he was leaving Granny Tomoana would cloak him with one of her fine korowai as a token of her confidence and pride in him. On his return from one of those trips, this old man would call at our place and one by one, or two by two others would happen along, and then they would listen to a full account of the traveller's trip. He was the “Big Noise” in our community and what he said was law, especially where the marriages of any of the young folk was concerned, always preferring that they should be able to trace to one another, and he could rattle off a genealogy like nobody's business. When one of our cousins, Aunt Rebecca's son, was a young man, and extremely popular with the lady folk, our elders decided that before he made a wrong move, it was best to have him married off and so forthwith a pretty young lady was brought on holiday to our home; of course we were told why she was brought and to us younger ones, it was good fun, a change; but our cousin had no idea of settling down as yet and as soon as the old folks began to put on a bit of pressure such as “me rongo koe ia matou, kaore koe e tika ia koe ano,” our cousin promptly took himself off to another district, where he got a job, and so after a few months with us, the young lady was returned to her family and my thoughts were—fancy turning down such a good looker. Then our other eligible cousin got ideas which did not suit our elders, and so the pow wows started again. Grandpa Wehi never said much, neither did Granny Tomoana, but the other grannies and uncles and aunts usually had all the angles and after several meetings in which everyone was consulted, except the cousin in question, and all the pros and cons weighed, it was decided that he should marry his own cousin, and though he pleaded his own cause, “she is too close to me” or “she is much older than I” it was useless and soon they were married, and his wife was added to our household. Cousin Wiri was rather bitter, since at that time his career as a romeo was at its height, and so he often went off for days on end. The old folks never said much and soon he became resigned and so settled down to be quite a good husband. We were all subject to our elders and though some kicked over the traces, as it were, this did not often happen, our elders seemed to know just what was in our minds and had the knack of always winning the day eventually. It was a sad thing when an elder passed away. When one became ill, all the others would crowd around day and night to watch the sick, often dozing off in chairs or just dossing down on the floor, and as the climax hour approached they pressed closer to linger on every dying work and look, and when it was all over they would recall all this with mournful exactitude. We young folk, not to be beaten, would push and peer for all we were worth and I can say I saw many of our elders die, by peeping in at windows or doors, when everyone was not noticing. When Grandpa Wehi died I felt I had lost my father and we all gathered around him and wept, and wept, clinging to Grandma Tomoana as though she were all we had left. Many times we recalled his ways and habits and especially the hour of devotion he always led us in at bed time. His prayers were alway's long and interspersed with many amens and as children, we were often guilt of staring at grandpa as he prayed and often mocking him, but even now, can see his old white head reverently bowed as he led us to the Throne of Grace While he was ailing it was my duty to bring his drinking water from a certain spring, for, though we had our own spring handy, he remembered the sweetness and coolness of this certain spring, and so several times a day, I ran over to the foothills with all my gang in tow, to “fetch that pail of water.”