A Story of "Old New Zealand."

Thames Star, Volume VIII, Issue 2941, 19 July 1878, Page 2

A Story of "Old New Zealand."

Among the beautiful oil portraits of Natives of distinction now to be seen at Foy's photographic establishment Pollen street is one of Ngairo, the celebrated Hauhau chief of Wairarapa. A gentleman who resides here relates the following little episode in the early settlement of the Wairarapa, in which, some two and thirty years ago, Ngairo (who is still living) and himself were the principal actors.

Our informant, whom we will call A., with his partner T., then rented from the Natives a large sheep and cattle run called Tauanui, in the lower Wairarapa. Their supplies of pork and potatoes— the principal items of food—were furnished entirely by the Natives in exchange for goods of various description, such as blankets and prints, soap, tobacco, pipes, &c. On the occasion now referred to, Ngairo, then residing at Wangaroa, about 25 miles further up the valley, having on a previous visit tabooed a large block of negro-head tobacco, returned, attended by four of his men and two pigs. The pigs being inspected and tethered, the attendants squatted down beside them, and Ngairo is invited to enter the house. A.'s partner T. is away felling a kahikatea. After the usual smoke, A. remarks that the proposed payment is insufficient^ but Ngairo begs that the tobacco may be produced. A little polite finessing ensues, and Ngairo probably thinks he has gained his point. He suddenly asks A. to hold the giant bulldog chained at the door. A. innocently complies, but a momentary glance shows that he has been done: Ngairo is off with the tobacco. Quick as lightning a cutlass is torn from over fin

fireplace ; fastenings, nails and scabbard fly in different directions, and out rushes A., apparently in a fearful rage, threatening death and deslruction, and calling out to Ngairo to stop. But A. is far from confident as to the result. Ngairo is walking away with measured strides, taking no notice, towards his men, who are ominously quiet. A. cannot help overtaking him, and is not quite sure what is to be done when he does. To slacken his pace would be to show the i white feather, and yet the odds are five to one. To his great relief and surprise, when within ten yards Ngairo turns round, sits quietly down, and placing his hand upon his neck says humbly iv Maori, "I am ashamed of myself; cut off my head." A.'s blood - thirsty intentions are immediately appeased. He says " No; I don't want to cut your head off; take up my tobacco and come back." The parties re-en' er the house, and have another korero, but presently a fresh dispute occurs, and T. arrives in time to witness a scuffle. A. is only just able to say that he is being throttled. Brave as a lion, and strong as Hercules, T. sees no necessity for active interference. Like a skilful general he at once sees the enemy's weak point, and quietly utters five words of advice. *•. responds by a :; id movement in flank, (he right hand under Ngairo's blanket. The result is magical. Ngairo gives a slight scream of pain, an ejaculation of surprise, and the affair is over.

Nothing now remained but to make peace. Ngairo still wishing to take away the tobacco, A. could afford to be generous. Ngairo promised to bring two more pigs within one month. He had the tobacco, and faithfully kept his word. ■The story is worth preserving, illustrating as it does the self-reliant spirit of the early Wellington settlers, their peculiar relations with the Natives in places far removed from Government protection, and the reliance which they could always place on the promise of a Maori gentleman.