see, these Maoris are not only hurting themselves, they are hurting the whole of the Maori race. Especially those that follow them wanting decent accommodation or a decent job, or even decent friends. It is easy for owners of accommodation houses or employers, who have had contact with some misbehaving Maori to condemn the whole Maori race and say, ‘I'm sorry but someone took the job this morning,’ to your enquiry about the job advertised in the papers that morning. Or if it be a place of accommodation, ‘I'm sorry but we are full up at present,’ and you know darned well that they're not. But all you can say is, ‘Oh all right, well, I'll try somewhere else. Thanks very much.’ And you wonder if its going to be the same at the next place. Yet I feel they are not biased because of the colour of our skin, but because they had some ugly experience with some unthinking Maori beforehand. Or I pray to God that this is the reason. The landlady and I get along together all right, however. We are very civil with one another. And the landlord and I tolerate each other. I think now they are beginning to realise that there are Maoris and Maoris. Like any other race. This then was 22 Raymond Street, Dunedin, when I first moved in nearly a year ago. And pretty much as it is today. I remember saying to myself that first day, when I saw how squalid the place was, ‘Tomorrow I will look for another place.’ But that was nearly a year ago now, and here I am, still here. I just cannot seem to be able to make the break. Thinking always, ‘I may be going back to Wellington next week,’ depending on whether the job I applied for came through or not. I applied for a job at the Education Board there and while I was waiting I thought I would come down South as far as I could and have a look around. I have always wanted to come South. Especially to Dunedin here. I don't know why Dunedin. Except perhaps because I heard so much about the place when they held the Ranfurly Shield for all those years. Anyway I think travelling is in my blood; the desire to see new places; new faces. I am working at present for a construction firm, ‘Jackson Brothers,’ but I hope to get a more suitable job soon. I kept thinking also that it was not worth my changing board for a matter of a few days. For I don't like the task of packing and unpacking. It was months though before I got definite word from Wellington. So I waited all that time thinking, ‘It's not worth packing now, for word may come through tomorrow.’ So here I am, still here, and far, far too settled now to move. But I think perhaps I'm trying to make excuses for myself and blaming other people for my predicament. It is not so bad here now, though. The place has been cleaned up a little, with additions and alterations being done all the time. That is the reason we are continually stepping over bits and pieces of timber and piles of sawdust to get to our rooms at night; or to and from the bath-room. Also there is a notice on the wall in the dining room now which reads. ‘To all boarders, please note. Anyone found consuming liquor in this building or bringing women into their rooms will be immediately discharged from the premises. P. F. Perry.’ But this notice is a farce, because we have parties and women here just the same as before. If not worse. There was a slackening off for a while though, when the notice first went up. Until someone tried it out and found nothing was done about it. Then it all started up again. Women and drink. Drink and women. There is also a notice in the bathroom above the bath-tub. It says, ‘Please clean bath after you. It is what you would do in your own home.’ And the landlord's name is signed at the bottom again. This notice is not so bad though because the bath-tub is not so dirty now. But I cannot imagine a lot of these fellows here ever having homes; having a mother to say to them, ‘Please clean the bath after you, dear.’ You just cannot imagine chaps like Jack Oxford (the name is probably a false one) or Eric Taylor who has three teeth missing in front, (probably the result of a drunken fight somewhere) and makes no effort to have them replaced with a false set, but just goes about grinning his hideous three-teeth-missing grin for all the world to see—having a mother or father, or a home with a clean white table cloth on the dinner table, and having to sit up straight and proper beside a sister, maybe. My room is nice and clean now and I always keep it tidy. I have papered the walls and ceiling and painted the fireplace. I have stopped up most of the draught holes too; beneath the doors, and the cracks in the window frames. But I think now that I am trying to