the fairies ran hastily to pick them up from the sand, and to haul the net up on the beach. They did not act with their fish as men do, dividing them into separate loads for each, but every one took up what fish he liked, and ran a twig through their gills, and as they strung the fish, they continued calling out, “Make haste, run here, all of you, and finish the work before the sun rises.” Kahukura kept on stringing his fish with the rest of them. He had only a very short string, and, making a slip-knot at the end of it, when he had covered the string with fish, he lifted them up, but had hardly raised them from the ground when the slip-knot gave way from the weight of the fish, and off they fell; then some of the fairies ran good-naturedly to help him to string his fish again, and one of them tied the knot at the end of the string for him, but the fairy had hardly gone after knotting it, before Kahukura had unfastened it, and again tied a slip-knot at the end; then he began stringing his fish again, and when he had got a great many on, up he lifted them, and off they slipped as before. This trick he repeated several times, and delayed the fairies in their work by getting them to knot his string for him, and put his fish on it. At last full daylight broke, so that there was light enough to distinguish a man's face, and the fairies saw that Kahukura was a man; then they dispersed in confusion, leaving their fish and their net, and abandoning their canoes, which were nothing but stems of flax. In a moment the fairies started for their own abodes; in their hurry, as has just been said, they abandoned their net which was made of rushes; and off the good people fled as fast as they could go. Now was first discovered the stitch for netting a net, for they left theirs with Kahukura, and it became a pattern for him. He thus taught his children to make nets, and by them the Maori race were made acquainted with that art, which they have now known from very remote times.

WANTED, to complete Library collections: Nos. 2, 4 and 12 of Te Ao Hou. Write to The Editor, Te Ao Hou, Box 2390, Wellington.

nga ingoa o tera Iwi. Ka tahi ano ka kitea te ta o te kupenga: ka mahue iho te kupenga nei, ka riro mai i a Kahukura hei tauira mana, ka akona e ia ki a ana tamariki; na reira i mohio ai nga tupuna o te tangata maori ki te ta kupenga, a mohoa noa nei.

FOR AN OLD MAN DYING Go down, old friend, to warm beaches where the sand still speaks of your young love; where the smoke of ancient fires still stings in the nostrils. Go down, old friend, where heaps of long opened shells glitter in the light of old moons; where the music of forgotten songs lingers in the listening ear. Go down, old friend, to the circle of familiar faces which opens to make room for you. Tell the old tales in their first flush of fresh and bawdy life; make music again on broken strings. Leave us, for our fires have all burned out and only their grey smoke drifts in a shadowy and indefinite dawn. Leave us as our new canoes move out from familiar shores drifting upon inconsequent tides. Frederick C. Parmée