throw some unexpected sidelights on the past history of the race. A good grinding-slab was a valuable article, and was prized accordingly. They were generally, if not always, tapu (consecrated), and in order to insure their safe keeping and preserve them from desecration they were usually deposited in some wahi-tapu, or holy place, which no common person would dare to enter, and which the tohunga (priest) would only visit formally and officially. In later times, when the fear of the tapu began to wear off, the stones were sometimes buried underground for additional security in a spot only known to one or two of the tokungas or chiefs of highest rank. As an instance of the dread of the tapu even within the memory of persons now living, I may mention that as late as forty or fifty years ago one of these slabs was ploughed up on the Mission farm in the Waimate, where some land was being prepared for a crop of potatoes. A young girl who had thoughtlessly handled the stone was warned of the danger she had incurred, and actually died of fright a few days afterwards. In another case a stone which was identified as one formerly used for preparing kokowai for a chief was accidentally found in a wooded gully, and the whole place was at once declared tapu, and none of the timber could be used for cooking until an elaborate ceremony of whakanoa had been held, when the spot was “made common.” The question has naturally been raised as to the purpose intended by the use of the kokowai as a cosmetic. Dr. Shortland remarks that “a reason for some persons painting their body and clothes was that they might leave a mark behind them, that people might know where their sacred bodies had rested” (“Traditions of the New-Zealanders,” p. 112). There may be something in this, but that it was not the only reason is evident from the fact that the painting of the body was not confined to chiefs of particular note, but was practised by men generally of the rangatira class. Kokowai was, like the purple of the Romans, a sign of rank, but not reserved exclusively for persons of the highest station. From Polack's account, already quoted, it will be seen that it was in general request among men of fashion at the feast which he describes; and Bidwell observes that in his time it was impossible to be carried by a native without getting one's clothes soiled by the “red dirt” which had saturated their mats (“Rambles in New Zealand,” 1841, p. 35). Though probably certain distinguished individuals kept themselves painted at all times, the minor rangatira appear to have been decorated only on festal and ceremonial occasions, one of which was the starting on a hostile expedition, when the whole party were arrayed in full “war-paint.” There is no doubt that one of the prin-