pigeon. Writing the figure "5" on a thin piece of paper, he fastened this to the bird's leg by means of a light wire, and the bird was released. This is the means used every day to notify the stage people, eighteen miles away, how many passengers are coming. The bird has been in use two years, and never fails. If the boat has a big load of passengers, two or more stages are made ready, but the day we crossed, one was sufficient. In some islands, a regular carrier-pigeon post is maintained, the pilot told me. . . . We landed at a little Maori village at 10 A. M., and found a five-horse stage waiting for us, the carrier pigeon having delivered the message entrusted to it. We picked up several passengers here, and when we started over the mountain, the top of which showed patches of snow, the coach carried fourteen, including the driver. We called at a house in the village and picked up a very fat Maori woman, two children, and two men. The woman said good-by to all the women and girl children in the house by rubbing her forehead against theirs, and considerable time was required for this ceremony. When we finally started, a light rain was falling, which continued until 7 P. M., when we reached the railroad. Three passengers had paid extra for seats with the driver, and all of them were soaked, while those of us on the inside were protected. During the stage ride from 10 A. M. to 7 P. M., we passed through a wild, mountainous country, and saw almost no houses. We stopped twice to change horses, and both times the passengers drank tea in a little hut warmed by a fire in one of the tin fireplaces so common here. The tea was boiled in the fireplaces by the hostlers of the stage
