OLD OTAKI MISSION CHURCH.

Manawatu Herald, Volume XXXI, Issue 492, 9 October 1909, Page 4

OLD OTAKI MISSION CHURCH.

It was in the year iß4yTeßauparaha began to build the Otaki church, writes Mr T. Sevan in the Chronicle. There were many hundreds of Natives who went up to the Ghau river, and cut very large trees. In those days the Ohau river ran into the Waikawa river, which caused the latter river to be very large. This, of course, formed a bar at the sea coast. The trees had ropes attached and were towed singly to the mouth of the river, and afterwards were taken by the sea, one native standing on the tree with pole' in hand to guide the same, while the others pulled it along the sea coast. When they got half-way to Otaki one of the natives on top of the trees got tired with the pole, and he called out to others to take his place. In jumping off into the sea, he jumped on to a stingaree. This fish has a poisonous barbed spear at the tail, which was driven right through the calf of his leg. Immediately the Maoris rushed and pulled him out of the sea, and carried him ashore. The wound being poisoned by the sting, many of the natives took turns and sucked the poisoned blood out. He was then carried to Otaki and in about two months had recovered under the native treatment. These immense totara trees were eventually landed at Waitohu, near Otaki, and then dragged over the sandhills by hundreds of natives to the site where the church new stands. Then all the timber was adzed down by natives adzes, which are now to be seen in the church. There being no machinery in those days all the large trees, acting as pillars now, were erected as was the Maori custom, by hand labour. Te Rauparaha got many natives from the Manawatu district to come down and do the carving, which is indeed a work of art. The lace work was also carried out by these people.

A Danzig newspaper recently published a very sensational article relative to the Baltic cruise of the British armoured cruiser Cornwall (says The Navy). This vessel, it appears, gave an exhibition of seamanship which deeply impressed our Teuton friends. The journal in question reports that on the occasion of the Cornwall’s visit to Kiel a dense mist prevailed, and the harbour authorities, who had been advised of her pending arrival in the evening, did not expect her to put in an appearance before morning. However, when day broke there she was, moored in her assigned position, and appearing to be quite at home. She had navigated the difficult Kiel fiord in the darkness and mist without a pilot on board. This performance she repeated at Danzig and Swihemunde, according to the report, in both cases without a pilot. The journal is extremely indignant at this ‘ ‘ ostentatious display of the navigator’s art,”' and is still more alarmed at the possibilities it connotes. “From this performance,” he says, “we are compelled to ask our naval authorities what would happen in the event of a sudden outbreak of war in England. It is obvious that if British naval officers are so thoroughly conversant with some of our most difficult harbours they would have not the slightest difficulty in bottling up the High Seas Fleet in Kiel or elsewhere. This prospect is sufficiently startling to justify an immediate investigation as to ways and means whereby the Marine Office may exercise a strict control over the charts ot our military harbours.” Should this paragraph chance to come under the notice of the CornwaH’s navigating officers, they may congratulate themselves on having administered a healthy objectlesson to the German public,, which is too often misled by press stories derogatory to the efficiency of our naval personnel.