Recently an article by one of our citizens—Mr. Elsdon Best—was published in the Polynesian Society's Journal on "The Land of Tara." The article is really part of the ancient history of Wellington, its harbour, and surrounding district. It tells us that there are over thirty places in the district where there were once Maori villages and residences All have now vanished. Where are the brave, stalwart hapus that welcomed our first settlers to Wellington? I let Mr. Best reply. He says:

"Of all the scenes familiar to the men of yore in the Land of Tara, nought remains unchanged save the contour of the great hills and the rippling waters of the great Harbour of Tara. No more are seen the hamlets that girt the Red Lake round, the cultivations that fringed the Awa-a-Taia, the paddling of many canoes to the fishing-grounds. No longer are the fortresses of Motu-kairangi crowded with fierce fighting men as of old, ready, at the sign of signal fires on the Ranga-a-Hiwi, to grasp spear and dub in defence of their homes. Never again shall the chief tain's war canoe swing across the waters of Tawhiti-nui, and never more shall the hills of Tara re-echo the roaring chorus of the war-song.

"And the children of Awa, where are they? Of a verity are their numbers few in the land. Of all these stalwart, war-seasoned migrants who welcomed our fathers, none are left. Anon, you may see a brown-skin descendant in our streets, a lone figure from the age of the Neolithic—a descendant of Sea Kings who ranged the great ocean when our forebears were hugging coastlines, a lone figure gazed at curiously by passers-by. He is not one of us or of our time; in the words of a survivor of the days of the levelled spear, 'Me te mea te wairua tangata a haere ana'—'like a human spirit moving abroad.' "