or, rarely, ko-ano-ano. The whole was surrounded by a network of flax, a sort of large open knotted network with the various ends twisted together to form a handle. This flax-work was called kete. The Maoris, having no knowledge of pottery, ingeniously used these gourds to preserve the flesh of birds for eating. Pigeons were plucked and dressed and then put into the gourd, and the melted fat of the pigeons was then poured into it until full to the neck, which was finally covered by the broad leaves of the rangiora plant. Elsdon Best says the gourd had often a wooden lid, but I have never seen one in any museum. Sometimes the calabashes were clothed in closely woven flax covers, and some were planted on three elaborately carved legs. The meat so preserved was known as huahua. When pigeons were scarce tuis or wekas were made into huahua. Rats were thus preserved—always with their skins on. In the old cannibal days they were occasionally filled with choice bits of human flesh. At Toka-anu I first saw a pair of tukis. They were shown to me by their owner, a great rangatira, and were among his choicest possessions, and clearly he was extremely proud of them. They were jet-black, and smaller than mine; in fact, the entrance was so narrow that former ancestors of his used to call up a small boy whose hand used to fish out the dainties. Best says that in consequence they were sometimes called ngutu-iti. Best has seen them ornamented with feathers. These tahas belonged to the chiefs, and at great feasts they acted as choice centre ornaments. One of our greatest Maori authorities says they were formerly common in the Urewera country, and were rarer about Taupo. As far as I can discover they were rarely seen south of this. They are now rare. Three or four specimens are in the Auckland Museum, and there is one in the Maori house of the Wellington Museum. I have seen no others except the pair at Toka-anu and my pair, and tukis are absent from many collections. Mair has seen them weighing 100 lb. when full. Mair told me that none are now being made—kerosene - tins do as well and are less trouble to get. Hamilton in his great work on Maori art figures one, but has only a brief reference to it. His pair of calabashes in the museum are minus the tukis. Neither Tregear nor Williams in their dictionaries have the word, but Tregear gives a Mangarevan word putuki, “to draw together the mouth of a sack.” These tukis certainly draw together the necks of the calabashes, enclosing their meaty contents, which, in addition to the dainties above mentioned, sometimes were filled with dog-meat, of which Best says the hind quarters were most highly esteemed. On