here in the hill country, I may tell you that I frequently led my horse over frozen streams and small lakes, where the ice was at least eight inches thick.
A few days ago, in the early spring, on a visit to Christchurch, I went with the Bishop and others to Kaiapoi, north of Christchurch, where there is a native "Pah," once rather an important Maori centre, with some two hundred inhabitants, originally refugees driven by other tribes from the North Island, and settling in the South. The Natives are well-to-do, as the Government has reserved ample land for their use; they are all Christians, and have a good school for their children, comfortable wooden houses, and a small church. The occasion of our visit was to receive the annual report of the School Examination. Maoris are proverbially given to hospitality, and need no instruction in the art of receiving notable guests with all due respect, having an innate sense of the dignity of high office and responsible authority. Nature's gentlemen they are, and, whilst living much in their old ways of tribal democracy, each individual having his due share and voice in matters that concern the tribe, yet they have deep respect for what they consider is the privilege of good birth, and specially that of Chieftainship, or the authority which belongs to the priest, the teacher, or head of the family.
So it was a great occasion. The "Pihopa," i.e. Bishop, was to preside; the School Inspector would deliver his report; Mr. Stack, one of our clergy, who has an intimate knowledge of the Maoris and their language, would interpret; and many of the "Rangitiras," i.e. gentlefolk, of Christchurch would be present to see and hear.
Seats were arranged for the guests on the brow of
