i pāukingia e mātou i te Hātarei: (a) te reo Māori i ngā kura. (b) Mā te Kāwanatanga e tiaki ngā ‘kura tākaro’ a ngā tamariki i mua atu i te rima o ngā tau. 3. Te hui mō ngā tamariki Māori a tērā tau (1970) ki te Pari o te Ardmore Teachers' College. Kake mai au i runga i taku ‘hōiho - rino’ i Frankton i te pō o te Rātapu i muri atu i te hāpāhi ki te waru, ā, tae mai ki Pōneke nei i te iwa o nga hāora o te Mane, mamae ana, makariri ana, aua atu. conference sessions, namely — (a) Maori language in schools, and (b) That the Government take over the running of all pre-school education. 3. The next conference will be held in 1970 at Ardmore Teachers' College. So, I mounted my ‘iron horse’ once more at Frankton Junction on Sunday night at 8.35 p.m. and arrived back in Wellington at 9 a.m. on Monday morning, physically beaten, frozen and goodness knows what else.

At the River by Patricia Grace Sad I wait, and see them come slow back from the river. The torches move slow. To the tent to rest after they'd gone to the river, and while asleep the dream came. A dream of death. He came to me in the dream, not sadly but smiling, with hand on heart and said, ‘I go but do not weep. No weeping, it is my time.’ Woke then and out into the night to watch for them with sadness on me, sadness from the dream. And waiting, there came a morepork with soft wing beat and rested above my head. ‘Go,’ I said to the bird. ‘He comes not with you tonight. He is well and strong. His time is not here.’ But it cried, the morepork. Its call went out. Out and out until the tears were on my face. And now I wait and I see the torches come, they move slow back from the river. Slow and sad they move and I think of him. Many times have we come to this place for eels. Every year we come at this time. Our children come and now our grandchildren, his and mine. This is the river for eels and this the time of year. A long way we have travelled with our tents and food stores, our lamps and bedding and our big eel drums. Much work for us today preparing our camp. But now our camp is ready and they have gone with drums and torches down river to the best eel place. And this old lady stays behind with her old kerosene lamp and the camp fire dying, and the little ones sleeping in their beds. Too tired for the river tonight, too old for the work of catching eels. But not he. He is well and strong. No aching back or tired arms he. No bending, no sadness on him or thoughts of death like this old one. His wish but not mine to come here this