blood-soaked little fort and welcoming soldiers of the 20th century. ‘I te rau tau o Rangiriri, na te kupu o to tatou ariki Te Kingi, e tu ai au i te wahi i heke ai te toto …’ I remember Major R. Whiteman, commanding the Waikato Squadron, standing to attention after picking up the sprig of leaves laid before him in the wero, a token that he came in peace. I remember the choir of St Faith's, Ohinemutu, singing like earthbound angels ‘Tama Ngakau Marie’. I remember fresh wreaths and garlands of flowers placed on each grave by school children and I remember how in each there were entwined blossoms and leaves of both England and New Zealand. I remember how a present sadness deepened the poignancy of the century-old for that day President Kennedy had fallen to the bullet of an assassin. ‘Let us at this time pray especially for the United States of America. May God guide and bless and comfort the people of the United States of America in their time of tragedy,’ said the Rev. Manu Bennett. As I had hoped there was the sorrow and there was the pride but of the anger—not a trace. And the amusement I had felt seemed too petty to remember.

Service at Orakau And so to Orakau. The first part of the service took place in the morning at historic St John's Church at Te Awamutu, conducted by the Bishop of Waikato, the Rt. Rev. J. T. Holland, and Canon Wi Te Tau Huata, M.C. With them was the Chief of the General Staff, Major General L. W. Thornton, C.B., C.B.E., who read the lesson. Said the Bishop: ‘A few yards from where I am standing, on the wall of the baptistry of St John's Church, there hangs a slab of wood on which are written these words: ‘This tablet was erected by the soldiers of H.M. 65th Regiment as a memorial of the New Zealanders who fell in the actions at Rangiaohia on the 21st and 22nd of February, 1864, and at Orakau on the 31st of March, 1st and 2nd of April, 1864. I say unto you, love your enemies.’ ‘That inscription needs to be blazoned far and wide today in a world loaded with strife and hate and petty mindedness. Everything about it, the rough hewn timber, the uneven lettering, the wording and the text itself is so utterly simple and sincere, a spontaneous tribute paid by gallant men to others no less gallant.’ This most famous battle of the wars ended for the Maoris in a defeat which had a ring of victory about it—which was how it should be, for except in a limited military sense, there could be no victory, certainly no moral victory, in such a war.

‘The Lessons They Taught Us’ ‘As we pay our tribute this day to those who fought and fell in battle and whose bodies lie in this churchyard, let us thank God for the seeds they sowed and for the lessons they taught us, European and Maori alike. Let us resolve afresh, with the help of God, to act with chivalry and honour one towards another,’ said Bishop Holland. That afternoon Major General Thornton unveiled suitably inscribed tablets erected on the site of the battle. The smiling green fields lie like a great garden round the spot where heroes died for a lost and hopeless cause. It is easy to pray for those who bled there, men and women, whatever side they were on. The heart warms too at the compassion of the soldiers who pleaded with the Maoris to end the slaughter and to surrender. But looking round it calls for the utmost Christian charity to find within oneself a kindly thought, let alone a prayer for those who punished such heroes by confiscating their land. Then came the centenary of Gate Pa. Even more than the other two commemorations, this seems to have gone more surely to the heart of the matter, the utter tragedy of the conflict, tragedy deepened if anything by the displays of heroism and chivalry it called forth. The organisers of the services spared no words to tell of the despair of the good missionary Archdeacon Alfred Nesbit Brown when war came to the land where he had laboured, where he was torn between his loyalty to his Queen and his love of the Maori people. They paid tribute to the courageous men and women whose faith and bravery will inspire New Zealanders down the centuries. They are the only ones, as far as I can see, who referred, in a play to be produced there, to European arrogance and intolerance. Two memorials, a cairn and a plaque mark historic spots and Maori and Pakeha, Catholic and Protestant, joined in honouring those who had the courage to choose death before