OUR LOST TRIBES.

Hokitika Guardian, 20 June 1927, Page 1

OUR LOST TRIBES.

(Auckland “Star.”)

A southern college professor lias read a paper to the local Philosophical Society on a quite human subject, the alleged Lost Tribe at Mamin, far down in the mountainous corner where Nelson, Canterbury and Westland provincial districts meet. Tin’s is a pleasing breakaway from the earnestly unintelligible papers on microscopical creatures with names of appalling magnitude with which philosophical societies are wont to wrestle. The prolessor did not discover the elusive -tribe, which is a, pakelia. one. lineal descendants of the pioneer diggers, i am inclined to believe that most of Tile yarns about it originated in a certain hush pub a few miles Into the south side of the Buller River. They call the place thereabouts Murchison, hut it is sprinkled with locally famous names of the Murphv’s Creek variety. Once upon a time a gentleman of royal descent kept a pub and store. Being descended from the ancient frish Kings, he was styled King O’Flaherty, or whatever it was, and he ruled his tribe of digger and buslifarming retainers in true patriarchal style. It was there or thereabouts that one has observed a pleasant social custom of Diggerland. When a stranger found his way into Mick Houlihan’s Flat, or whatever it was. and chucked down his hag on the puli verandah, the boss reached under the bar counter •nd drew forth his hush bugle, a cow’s

horn. While the stranger breasted tho bar, the boss blew a resounding blast on the horn. Presently wildbearded “hatters” and bushme'n were seen emerging from the scrub in all directions making for the Blaiikv Grand Hotel at a run. “The hliovs ’ll lie here any moment now,” said the boss as he returned to his place behind the slab 'counter, and set out glasses and pannikins. The stranger. of course, had to shingle the roof in generous style when the tribe trooped in. They say that only once were the local population disappointed when the weekly coach disgorged a visitor. 11 is name began with Alar, and he came from Aberdeen.

Mamin and its neighbouring glens

and flats no doubt have lost some of their picturesqueness of life since the old prospectors carried their last swag and breasted the last bar. But lartle er on, far down the South Westland coast, there are some little coimnuiii-

ies ns rugged .as the wild landscape round them. Round about the mouth

that mile-wide river, the Hanst

and down beyond again at Jackson’s Bay—which is as far as you can ride on tlie West Coast —there ' are oldtimers and their families who have never seen a railway train, a movie, or a motor ear. Perhaps they don t

miss much, and their chances of life are longer than the city man s, [here is a little tribe of Maoris on the Alaknwhio River, the Xgnti-Muhnki. about thirty people, the most isolated native liapu in New Zealand. And again southward, hut only reached bv sea or by the overland track from Lake Wakatipu, is the last tribe of all, the few settlers who have hung out at Martin's Bay. A Government of long ago—may the Lord

ve mercy on its soul-y-planted this

ttlo settlement there in the most ittorly God-forSnken hole and corner u these islands. They Rave had to

tritsl t;> the lliiicmoii, .and Inter the Tutanokni, on her hi-nnnunl visits for their sustenance Ironi tiie outside world. How on earth they contrive to pnv fa l, their stores is a mystery, but I surmise tiny round up a little moh of wild cattle now .and again, or catch taniwhas or plueh kiwis to cam an honest- hag of flour and sack of sugar. . J.C.