woven of dressed flax-fibre and ornamented with taniko; such anklets were worn by women of rank. Others were made of the hollow culms of a plant called “hangaroa,” through which threads of flax-fibre were passed, a band being formed of these. Te Kowhai, of Ngatiruapani, states, “The tauri-komore was an anklet. It was a tohu rangatira—a sign of good birth. They were made by stringing the komore (?) upon cords of plaited flax-fibre. The komore were hollow white objects brought from afar—I think, from the ocean. Many such cords were thus made and worn on the leg as an ornament.” H T. Pio says, “Te tauri-komore kei raro tena i nga waewae o nga rangatira e here ana.” The name was also applied to bands tattooed on the wrists or ankles. (Komore = a sea-shell.)

Pohoi: These were ear-ornaments of bird-skins. Such skins, minus head and wing- and tail-feathers, had a piece of round wood placed in them (hai whakatopuku), so that they would dry in that shape—i.e., in a cylindrical form. They were worn suspended from the ears.

Poro-toroa: These were short pieces of the bones of the albatros, cut into lengths of about 2 in. They had a cord passed through them, and were suspended from the neck, the bone resting on the wearer's breast. I have seen but one native so adorned here, though the various greenstone pendants, kuru, whakakai, kapeu (or tangiwai), are numerous.

Heru, Combs: It is stated that these were formerly made of the stalks of the heruheru fern (Todea intermedia), also of bone and wood. The fine-toothed combs are made otmapara, the hard resinous heart-wood of the kahikatea. One such in my possession is ingeniously and neatly laced in the pattern known as tapuwae-kautuku.

Chaplets, &c.: These were made from the sweet-scented, leaves of various shrubs and plants, such as the tanguru-rake, koareare, kotara, and pua-kaito, and were worn by women. Also bead ornaments of feathers and various prized plumes were worn. The generic terms for the above ornaments appear to have been “pare” and “rakai.” Rakai, or whaka-rakai, also means to adorn the head with such gear. Hakari also means to adorn, as with, clothing. Pigeon-oil and the oil expressed from the titoki-berries were scented with a moss called “kopuru,” or the gum of the tarata-tree, which tree is chipped at certain times to cause this gum to flow. Bird-skins, such as that of the pukeko, were prepared as for pohoi, and, having been scented with this oil, were worn suspended from the neck. This is termed a “pona tarata.” The hei raukawa was composed of strips of albatros-skin, with feathers attached, about 2 in. wide. Such strips were fastened to the odorous leaves of the raukawa shrub, and worn as

above. The kopuru and tarata gum were used in a like manner. Such were the ornaments of Rua-tahuna paku kore and Rua-tahuna kakahu mauku.

Potae taua: These were mourning-caps, or, more properly speaking, fillets, inasmuch as they possessed no crown. They were worn by widows in former times. They were made of a kind of large rush found growing on the margin of lakes, and known as “kutakuta,” or “paopao,” or “kuwawa”^*(ko te paopao, mehemea ka parahuhutia ka pakepake nga mea o roto). The stalks were peeled of the outer covering, leaving the white inner part, which was then formed into a fillet for the head. In some cases the material was died black and a reddish-yellow (menaeka), the last colour being obtained by the same process as that described in making the manaeka. These coloured materials were then woven into a fillet, the hukahuka of which hung down all round the head, and covering the eyes of the wearer. The potae taua was secured by being tied at the back of the head. Other such mourning-caps were made of bird's tails (Kotore or humaeko) fastened entire to the fillet, and which waved to and fro as the wearer moved.

Floor-mats, Sleeping-mats (Whariki and Takapau).

Whariki is a generic term for mats or covering for the floor, whether woven mats, coarse or fine, or merely leaves or Lycopodium, as is sometimes used. Takapau is applied to the finer class of sleeping-mats. Coarse mats, such as that termed “tuwhara,” are placed on the ground, and the fine-woven takapau of flax or kiekie over these. The leaves of the kiekie are split into narrow strips, which are bleached until quite white, the mat having a very neat and clean appearance. When split these strips are hung in the sun until half-dry, when they are taken down and beaten on the ground, the operator taking a handful (tata) and threshing them on the ground. They are then hung up again for a while. This process is repeated several times, until the strips are quite white. No dye or pattern-weaving obtains in connection with the kiekie mats.

Coarse floor-mats were also made of the kutakuta, described above. Mats of these kinds are made in several widths or pieces (papa), the leaves of the flax, &c., not being long enough to run right through. When a midrib (tuaka) is thus formed in weaving mats it is termed a hiki, which is the joining of two papa. (Ka patai tetahi wahine, “E hia nga hiki o to whariki e toe ana?” Ka ki mai tera, “E toru.” Na, kua mohio e wha nga papa.) The turning of the ends of the strips at the ends of a mat is termed “tapiki.”

We will now conclude by giving some of the rules pertaining to the art of the whare pora, and explain the various aituu (evil omens) that were liable to overtake those who did not strictly adhere to such rules.

The finer class of garments (kakahu) and the ornamental taniko thereof may be woven during the day-time only. So soon as the sun sets the weaver must release the right-hand turuturu and roll up or cover her work until the next day. Common garments (puweru) may be woven at night, but not the high-class articles. A weaver may, however, work at preparing the io, aho, or hukahuka at night. Should the above rule be broken the weaver will lose all knowledge of her art; the shades of night will deprive her of such. Should she weave such a garment at night, the same is a tatai mate, an evil omen, and a tüpö.

Aroakapa: When asleep, should a weaver, or her husband, dream that she sees a garment suspended before her (as on turuturu), it is the sleeper's spirit (wairua) that discloses such to her, as a token of misfortune to come. It is the impending misfortune that sends notice of its coming. This is known as an aroakapa. It is useless trying to escape from this aitua.

When engaged in weaving, should a stranger approach the weaving-house the weavers will cry him welcome, but at the same time each grasps the right-hand turuturu (the sacred one), and lays it down, or leaves it at an angle across her work. If left standing it would mean an aroakapa, and an evil omen for the offending weaver or her friends. If the guest is from afar the omen assumes an appalling magnitude. In this latter case the garment is taken off the turuturu and put aside, carefully covered, otherwise the aroakapa, will be on hand. If it is a large party that arrives, and they enter the house where weaving is going on the work is rolled up and placed aside. If only one or two people known to the weavers, then the women will remain seated by their work, and join in the conversation. But the sacred turuturu are still lying on the ground, and no weaving is done. If a stranger approaches such a house, and sees the turuturu are standing, he at once leaves or proceeds on his way. He knows that he has come unawares upon the weavers, and has brought disaster upon them. It is therefore a good place to migrate from.

When I paid a visit to Te Wai-o-hine, a famous weaver of Rua-tahuna who has made many old-time articles for me, as I entered the whare where she was weaving a korowai she seized the sacred turuturu and leaned it against the wall at an angle of 45°, thus slacking the tawhiu, but not covering or removing the garment, as she would have done had I been a

stranger. She, of course, ceased working until I had seated myself, when she re-erected her turuturu, and went on with her work.

Women will not smoke while weaving, and should they eat in the same house where the weaving is being done they will cover their work and go aside to eat.

Hukiora: If a chief from a neighbouring village arrive at the weaving-house, and should the weaver lean the turuturu over without detaching the work therefrom, that is a hukiora—she has saved herself from the evil omen. As the chief seats himself he will say, “Erect your turuturu.”

Tahakura: It is an evil omen for the weaver to leave an aho uncompleted at sundown, when she leaves off work—that is, the aho is not carried out to the margin of garment at the right-hand turuturu. This is termed a tahakura. (“Kua tahakura to whatu.”) That garment will never be finished by the weaver, for every succeeding aho (woof-thread) will prove to be short, and thus will not run out to the margin. The weaver will never again be able to concentrate her mind on the work to complete the same. The tahakura has unnerved her, and destroyed her power of continuity. That garment will have to be thrown away. As that worthy old adept, Te Whatu, of Rua-tahuna, remarked to me, “Such is the result of not having gone through the ceremony of Moremore puwha; one is afflicted by the tahakura and the aroakapa,” Moral: Let not the sun descend upon an incomplete aho, and enter thyself betimes as a novice for the all-powerful Moremore puwha.

But should a close acquaintance—i.e., a man—chance upon a woman weaving, such is not an evil omen for her, albeit he will not remain. (Ka ahua konekone, ara ka whakama, he kore hoa tane mona hoi hoa noho.)

Some authorities state that if an aho turns out to be too short the result is a pouaru—that is, either the weaver or her husband will shortly die. Should a person go behind a garment that is being woven—that is, on the opposite side to the weaver—and look at that garment, that also is an aroakapa.

In preparing miro (twisted threads) for the io and aho (warp and woof) of fine garments it is an aitua (evil omen) to throw the hungahunga or tow into the fire. All the knowledge of the weaver will be lost; it will be destroyed by the fire.

Weaving of fine garments must invariably be carried on under cover, never in the open, although it is quite sufficient if the weaver has merely a rough shelter of branches over her