The Romance of Ariana.

This Army chaplain narrated with dry humour the romantic little story of a wounded half-caste girl, one of the prisoners taken at Orakau on 2nd April, 1864; her name was Ariana Huffs, or Hough:

“We have a few friendly natives in camp (at Te Awamutu) who receive rations; they have evidently much sympathy with their countrymen in bonds, and we respect them for it. There is one of them, a hunch-back postman, who plays a little on the Maori flute, which is much the same as our penny whistle. As soon as evening sets in he takes his stand at the door of his tent and begins playing a sort of dirge. His music is execrable, but we bear with it for the following reasons: One evening we requested him to cease his serenade or to remove elsewhere beyond our hearing. The deformed creature threw himself into an interesting attitude and said, ‘It is not for myself I am playing; it is for Ariana Huffs. Every evening she comes out to listen, and I can speak to her with my flute; she page 82 knows all that it says.' After this sentimental avowal we have learned to tolerate this black Blondel, this dusky Trovatore. Ariana is a remarkably pretty half-caste, the offspring of an Englishman and a Maori woman. Her mother died some years ago, and her father, one of those restless, unsettled beings so often to be met with in the colonies, left her to the care of her Maori relatives and started for Australia; nothing has been heard of him since. When the war broke out she was living with a settler near Awamutu; the family was obliged to leave, and she was carried off by the rebels. She says that this was done against her will, and that while the fighting was going on at the pa [Orakau] she was tied to another woman to prevent her from attempting to escape. We suspect, however, that she was tied only by the gentle cords of love, and that a Maori warrior had something to do with her presence there. When the pa was evacuated she was hit by a bullet which shattered her arm; it would have gone hard with her in the indiscriminate slaughter which ensued had not some brave fellow stood over her and defended her life.

“Ten men came forward to claim the honour due to this gallant deed; but this was after the report of her beauty had spread over the camp, and each claimant doubtless imagined that he could establish a lien over her heart.

“Nay; some weeks after the fight an enthusiastic militiaman travelled all the way from Raglan, a distance of thirty miles, and demanded an interview with the Brigadier; he stated that he was the preserver of Ariana's life; he could neither eat nor drink nor sleep for thinking of her; so he had made up his mind to make her his wife. He had £50 in the Savings Bank, which sum he wished to devote to her education, so as to prepare her for the duties of the married state. All that he desired at present was an interview with the object of his affections; Ariana would at once recognise him and rush to his arms. There was only one slight difficulty: he spoke no Maori and she knew no English; but love has a language of its own; he had no doubt that they would understand one another.

“The Brigadier [Carey], amused at the fellow's earnestness, granted the desired interview, and allowed the interpreter to be present to assist if the silent language of love should prove insufficient. The lover entered the room with a bashful, sheepish air, and stared at Ariana, who stared at him in return; but there page 83 was no recognition on her part, no outburst of gushing gratitude, no rushing to his arms. On the contrary, she turned to the interpreter and coolly asked what the man wanted; on learning which she laughed heartily and told him to go away, as she had never seen him before, and would have nothing to say to him. The poor fellow begged, beseeched, implored, and looked unutterable things; Ariana only tittered and turned away her head. Ever since that time the militiaman has continued to urge his suit in letters, written by a half-caste amanuensis, but the Maori maid is still obdurate. He is not the only man who has felt the power of a beauty or claimed to be her preserver; so importunate were some of her admirers that a guard had to be stationed at the hut for her protection. She has now almost recovered from her wound, and an asylum will be provided for her in an orphan institution. We have still some hopes of the militiaman: perseverance often leads to success in love as in everything else.”