Compared with the fresh and full vigour with which the Anglo-Saxon race is spreading and increasing, the Maori is the weaker party, and thuus is he the loser in the endless ‘struggle for existence.’”^*

The case of the Maoris is analogous to that of the New Zealand bush. The magnificent growth that has withstood the storms of countless centuries, and that has been able to renew itself after the ravages of volcanic fires and the deposits of ashes and mud, is gradually perishing before the advance of European settlement. Even the portions that have so far escaped the bushman's axe are unable to support the new conditions. The browsing cattle, the competition with foreign plants, the incursion of imported blights, all contribute their share in the general destruction, while even well-meant efforts at preservation often serve only to hasten the decay.

Doubly decimated by the guns of Hongi, of Te Rauparaha, and Waharoa; worn out with the agonizining effort to secure a supply of weapons and ammunition; their vitality sapped by the liquor traffic and the wholesale debauch of the mothers of the race; utterly wearied by the ten years' war and its disastrous consequences; discouraged by the injustice of the land laws; and disheartened by an ever-growing race prejudice, the Maoris of to-day are but a dying remnant of the once vigorous and populous tribes. The men and women of fabulous age once to be seen in every kainga have died off, and none are taking their place. On a late interesting occasion—the unveiling of the Marsden cross in the Bay of Islands in last March—the only chief within available distance that could remember something of the old times was a half-caste. It is becoming a rare thing in many districts to see a Maori above middle age. Young men and women apparently healthy and robust are cut off at a few days' notice by fever and rapid consumption, while children die wholesale from infantile diseases that would be easily thrown off by their white brothers and sisters, and the shrinking remnant is ever less and less able to resist the doom of their race.

The decay, on the whole, as I have attempted to show, has been rapid, but it has been fitful, and there have been times when it almost seemed as if there was a gleam of hope. Although the Rev. Samuel Marsden and the early missionaries were unable to restrain Hongi from going on the warpath, still, it is unquestionable that their influence largely contributed to the suppression of cannibalism, and helped to secure a better fate for the thousands of prisoners than they would otherwise