HAPPENINGS IN THE CAPITAL.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXII, Issue 1797, 30 June 1906, Page 3

HAPPENINGS IN THE CAPITAL.

MOURNING MAORIS.

( By Pknkloi'k.)

Wellinglo

Wellington lias boon crowdol tins past week, irnlood shakedowns liavo boon the rule in most of tho hotels and boarding - housos, and among our visitors wero many nativos. Especially about Parliament wero they to bo , soon, cheerful despito of tho roason of their being liere —fat, indolent, and I generally loaning up against sotno thing. It was foarod the excitemeni might make them uncontrollable, but tkoy were quiot and orderly to a dogreo, probably owing to tho excellent uiluonce of Mr Ngata, the now Alaori member, and Mr Heko. Three Maoris wero sworn in as special constables, hut their duties cousisted iu looking . astly important, and wearing a badgo on their arms. The evening beforo tho funoral I wont to a rohoarsal of the tangi to bo held the next day. It took place at a little church-room in Sydney streot, which was crowded with natives. Most of them wore wreaths of green loavos—indeed the shrubs in the next garden suilerod greatly for this purpose —and some women employed themselves decorating their men’s hats with trails of gro-nery. There were babies, as marvellously good as Maori babies gonorally are. One man, jumping across from one form to another, was stepping on a bundle of rugs. He just stopped in time, and felt horrified when the woman next him peeled off the wrappings and disclosed a sleeping child. An old man sported a tall hat wreathed with crepe that hung in two weepers down his back. He also wore black spectacles, whether out of respect to the Premier or not it is not easy to say. A very prominent figure was that of old Tamahan’s wife, Alice, whose little wizened face was absolutely hidden by a huge garland of willow-branches. One woman, by no means slim, increased her width by a girdle of green boughs, and still another gavo a unique and jaunty touch to her green wreath by a large blackedged funeral-card stuck at one side. But their songs were wonderful, with heart-breaking minor cadences, and long drawn wailings that need no interpretation, An old Masterton chief, Te Hui, whom I met last as the honored guest at a smart Wellington wedding, led many of the dirges in a musical, resonant voice, and the rest chimed in with astounding precision. A huge Canterbury chief, the only one from there, but big enough for two, started a chant, but the North Island natives did not know it, so that it was practically a solo. On th 9 stage the natives signed the address to Mrs Seddon. I was sitting next a very handsome Maori in tailor-made and furs, who remembered the Premier with much affection, and always used to call and see them when near, once she came at six in the morning before they were up ! Tho last time she saw him she sang to him in Maori, and he begged for the song, which she sent- In return just before he left for his last trip—ho wired a long message of thanks and farewell, half in English and half in Maori, which she keeps now among her chiefest treasures

BESIDE THE COFFIN. Many were wakened at grey dawn on Thursday by the melancholy wailing of the Maoris as they went up to ! Parliament House. It was some rime 1 ■■ f er when the coffin was borne slowly ween the great banks of flowers laid under the large picture of the .e Queen at ono end of the lobby. | About it gathered the three sons, pale and wan in their sombre black, some close friends, and the new Premier and his Ministers. Then, with great wailing, the Maoris entered the lobby, the women, garlanded with green and waving green branches. Leaning against the coffin, on which were laid Maori weapons and mats, was a largo portrait of the Premier, so that the natives could at least see his pictured face as they mourned, It was altogether an impressive ceremonial, and it was not easy to listen dry-eyel to the dirges. The Native Minister spoke in eloquent Maori, whilo an undercurrent of wailing came from the natives. The words of the address were beautifully pathetic and poetic. It was written by Mr Ngata and Mr H- ke. After some songs, one magnificent defiance to death, in which the excitement grew intense, and weapons and branches were flourished madly in the air, the Maoris withdrew. Dur* ing the whole of the touching cere-* monial many had tears rolling down their cheeks, and indeed, the eyes of the pakehas were dim. It must have been a very trying ordeal for the three sons. Among tho wreaths was a fine one from the Masterton Maoris with two huia feathers interwoven in it. AN AVENUE OF GARLANDS. It is almost impossible to describe the wreaths and flowers sent in honor of the late Premier. They came from all parts —even on the funeral day arrived a very large and elaborate device from Sir Joseph and Lady Ward, reprasenting a falling star, and they were from rich aud poor, of all shades of opinion. The great lobby was banked up along the walls with garlands, and every available inch of floor space taken up, while some of the larger wreaths were hung on the walla in place of the usual pictures. Many, indeed most of the wreaths were of artificial flowers, but there were many of natural blooms whose heavy scegt filled tho air. Among the loveliest of the natural wreaths were those sent from Gisborne, of exquisite blooms, wonderful to us at this tiipe of the year. The beautify! deyipe sent by the Opposition members was also of real flowers, a graceful cross of lilies, spring blossoms, and maidenhair. The most gorgeous wreaths were from Auckland, an immense garland of massed purple violets, white lilac, and roses being much admired. It was sent by Mr and Mrs Endean Tho poetic garland of bays, tied with French colors—sent by the French Consul—was simple and beautiful, and i heart of rod rosos, from the Lancas-

:ian men, had a pathetic inscription m dialect upon the ribbon. Thousands visited tho wreaths and marvelled at the display that bore witness to the dead man’s power and popularity. It represented thousands of pounds there wore ninety of tho glas3-covered wreaths alone—and it was a very striking testimony to the [sorrow and sym« pathy of tho country. On the day after the funeral—Mr Seddon’s birthday —all tho real flowers were taken up and placed on bis grave. The others are to ho kept till some placo is built where they may bo placod and form a memorial for yoars of tho late Premier. THE DAY OF THE FUNERAL Fo much ha,3 already been written abotyt the burial that it seems a repetition to add, but still, to most, it is the engrossing topic of the week. All the morniDg—usherod in by a fiery sunrise—the weather looked ominous, and at mid-day a few drops of rain dismayed the waiting thousands. But it merely drew to wind, bitterly keen boisterous wind that froze those who were standing about, and which must have made tho slow creep of tho

d funeral procession n penanco for ma n j From many vantago points on th 1 hills around a clear view of the grav t could be gaiued, and every knoll wai • crowded, quite apart from tho thou t sands that lined tho s'reots. I watchor; i a man struggling to a roof-top, ham--1 pored by the wind and a hoavy topcoat. It blew him down tho slope onco, but ovontually porsevoranco carried tho day. Mrs fc'oddon and Mrs Boan, hor daughter, attended tho service at the grave and boro up wonder fully, even when the volleys wore fired, and tho bugle sounded “The Last Post.” The grave is placed in a I fine position. It looks down on city and harbor and distant hills. Parliament, tho arena of his triumphs, is prominent. When tho monumont to his memory is built, it will be a striking land-mark against tho green hills