later, marriage again changed her name, and as Jane Foley she became respected in both Maketu and Kati Kati, where she and her husband lived with the family born to them. The plaque in St George's Church was presented and unveiled by an old friend of Mrs Foley, Mrs L. Simons of Tauranga. The memorial address at the service of dedication was given by the writer to a large congregation which included many Maori, among them a great-grandson of the woman in whose honour the service was held. ‘God bless you,’ she records that Col Booth said to her, as she poured water into her cupped hand, and gave him to drink. In the beautiful and expressive lines of Rarawa Kerehoma, we can say of that place. E tangi haere ana Ngatai te uru ei ka mai angi nga mahara Ano he pawa ahi Kua makeariri ke Te okiokinga puehu kau. The tide ebbs silently away. Memories rise in the still air Like smoke from many fires. Is this the same place. This place of ashes?

TE AO HOU Your people cry out for knowledge but the baskets of food are almost empty and we know not where to find Te Whare a Tane. While you recline in obesity your stockades crumble and the Tautiaki salutes the company of wind and rain, and lowly beasts. You shrug and turn away with eyes blurred survey your traditions being swept aside by the flood of life while that which you hold sacred gesticulates from behind the windows of a Pakeha shop and the Manaia carved for dollars and cents bows his head in shame. Let not the ‘garment of Tu’ become a moth-ball of modern neglect Whakatika! take up your paddles cast your dart Ki Te Reo Maori hold tight your Maoritanga lest your calabash overflow with the fat of modern living and the death of yesterday becomes a meaningless wave of tomorrow. Henare Dewes