or red, a sign which they call Tiki; and no native is allowed to enter the house, or place his foot upon the ground. This interdict, however, is not observed by strangers, nor do the natives at the present time feel offended at such a trespass. of such an order as to impose readily on the credulity of the others; his higher attainments in juggling tricks constitute his title to authority. The duties of an "ariki," in his sacerdotal office, may be better illustrated in the description of their strange system of Tapu :-A principal chief being the ariki over a petty one, and consequently over every one below him, can tapu any object or person, so that it is consecrated from all touch: the head of a family can do the like, and the rule is held sacred, at his plea-proach him, or in any way administer to his wants, sure. If, therefore, the father tapu his youngest child, none but the elder brothers and sisters, with himself, dare even to touch it while the interdict is in force; and he alone can remove the charm. The husband is likewise considered the ariki over the wife, although they may be of equal conditions in rank. The distinction, therefore, between a priest and an ariki is obvious—the one may be assumed at any person's option, but the other can only be applied to designate a superior by either birth or age. By these brief explanations you will be better prepared to understand the working of that peculiar system of tapu, which, for want of better laws, the natives have from time immemorial observed in the most sacred manner. It has constituted an efficient jurisprudence, regulating their whole machinery of morality and polity, in a degree scarcely to be surpassed by the laws of any civilized realm: while, from its awful sacredness, it so effectually places persons and things in that consecrated position, that crime and cupidity are disarmed of all power. The superior arikis and principal chiefs are by this means their lawgivers; and whatever they may feel inclined to construct or abrogate, it is done by this cabalistical symbol of the tapu. But it would be difficult to make you comprehend this curious principle without some examples. Besides its moral, civil, and political efficacy, life and property may be inviolably secured by this sacred interdict; and it is occasionally extremely accommodating to those who have the power of legalizing it, for on whatever should please the fancy of one of these privileged chiefs, he may exercise his spirit of monopoly to its fullest extent, though it is not always in his power to dissolve the charm by any potent incantation without the concurrence of other parties interested, The head of a New Zealander is uniformly considered a sacred or tapued part of the body; there fore, to swear by that part, to strike, or even irreverently to touch it, would subject the offender to their severe displeasure, and indeed to a disagreeable retaliation, and he instantly becomes tapued also. So tenacious are they in the application of this tapu to this honourable part of man, that were you even to compare the head to any insignificant object, as an iron pot, pumpkin, or any other article present, such would be immediately considered as tapued, and could not again be used, nor even touched by any of the people. Also, if a native were describing the height of a child, he would hold his hand in an upright position; whereas, if an animal be the object of his description, he would represent its height by using his hand in a horizontal position, as we should do. Should a chief have his hair cut, the operator and instrument would both be under tapu, and the hair would be buried in tapued ground. The house in which a chief dies, and the place in which he is buried, are under a lasting tapu: this latter spot is distinguished sometimes by boundary rails; but oftener by an upright post, painted black Should a chief be seriously ill, he is considered to be specially and sacredly under the dominion of some offended Atua (Deity), and consequently is in a tapued condition, so that no one is allowed to apexcepting his head wife, or a superior ariki; thinking that such interference would be grievous to the presiding deity, whom they imagine to dwell in the sick person's body during his affliction. Thus, through this absurdity, many good and brave lives have been heedlessly sacrificed. Slaves, at one time, were not considered eligible to the ceremony of the tapu during sickness; or, in other words, were not considered of sufficient importance to claim the incantations and prayers of their superiors, which they suppose can only be made available by placing the patient under this mystical influence. If a wound be inflicted by any weapon, accidentally, the instrument is immediately tapued; if by a bite of any animal, it is placed in the same condition; if wood be taken from tapued land and used as fuel, no native would eat of any victuals cooked at that fire; nor would he even light his pipe at it. But I might fill a volume with these instances, and fail to give you a clear notion of this peculiar custom, so varied is its application. It affords, however, additional evidence of the resemblance subsisting between the manners of these people and others of the Pacific islands, where superstition is so remarkable a feature; and can we wonder at or censure these absurd forms among an ignorant people, when we consider, that in civilized lands even, many, who have had all the advantages of education and of enlightened society, are not altogether divested of such false devotion to imaginary agents? This strange custom, however, has been fast giving way of late years to more enlightened views, so that the tapu is now seldom heard of; and as Christianity becomes more diffused among the people, all their extravagant phantasies will disappear, and they will look back upon the fooleries of their forefathers as the vapourings of an idle dream. Another custom, far more revolting in its character, is likewise fast passing to the shades of oblivion: I mean their disgusting practice of cannibalism. That this was formerly carried to great excess, there is little doubt; but it is still questionable whether it proceeded from a real liking to the taste of human flesh, or was instituted originally from motives of revenge. When we consider the savage and brutal nature of these people, made up as it is of all the most ignoble and animal passions incident to human nature, and consider also, that their food has always been principally of a vegetable character, we may surmise that the latter motive has chiefly instigated them to so disgusting a practice. Their cruel and inveterate practices on animals, insects, &c. which, in their view, are annoying, loathsome, and unseemly, contribute also to the opinion that they devoured their enemies from a purely revengeful feeling. They are to this day excessively hard-hearted towards many inoffensive creatures, and practise a variety of revolting tortures upon them, merely to gratify their spleen, and they seem to derive satisfaction from witnessing their miserable struggles and expressions of pain. Putting out the eyes of birds, stripping them of all their feathers; mutilating rats, dogs, cats, &c. are common every-day amusements: and their eager avidity to destroy all annoying insects doubtless arises from the same revengeful feeling. Whatever may have been the real motive, however, of their practice of cannibalism, it is fast subsiding; scarcely has an instance of it been known of late years; and this, I think, proves as much as anything can do, that it was formerly practised from feelings of hatred, rather than from taste; for the latter would be much more difficult to overcome in a short space of time; and an occasional treat might yet be expected to be indulged in, which is not the case. Those natives who have attended to Christian discipline repudiate the custom in the strongest terms; and though this desirable effect might naturally be expected to follow the reception of Christianity, it would probably have been more tardy had the custom arisen from an indulgence of appetite. I have been informed by some old settlers here, that they have as a matter of curiosity tasted human flesh, cooked after the native fashion, and all describe it as being remarkably savoury, and having very much the appearance and flavour of roasted pork. The natives, however, prefer the black to the white flesh. The ovens in which these people cooked their victims were such as they still use for the preparation of their present food. They first dig a hole in the ground, in which they throw blazing embers of wood and some round stones; when the latter are sufficiently hot, they place their food upon them, covering it over with leaves and flax baskets; then over all they throw water, which being converted into steam, and immediately covered with earth, the mess is very soon cooked to their liking. But although so disgusting a custom is happily done away with among them, their savage nature is still conspicuous in their ordinary mode of eating. Perhaps the only occasion when you see a Maori energetically exert himself, is when he is devouring his meals; especially if consisting of any kind of meat. Potatoes, however large, they cram into their mouths without biting; indeed, they distend their jaws and cheeks in such a manner as almost to defy the process of mastication; and they gulp it all down with the rapacity of a half-famished boa-constrictor. It is truly sickening to see them over a large pot-full of putrid maize. The hand performs the ready office of spoon; and their grunting, snorting, and gluttonous eagerness, can only be compared to the noise of as many pigs around a trough. Putrid fish of various kinds, but particularly shark and a species of skate, are favourite delicacies. Eels, too, which they get in great abundance, they cook in leaves, and then hang them to dry for occasional munching: they likewise string cockles and mussels, and keep them till they are in a state of horrible decomposition, when they are declared fit for use. In the vegetable line, they seem to prefer their putrid maize to everything, excepting, perhaps, potatoes in the same state: pumpkins, kumeras, calabashes, wild turnips, and cabbage, occasionally grace the feast; and their dessert, which lasts from morning to night, or rather from one day's dinner to another, for they eat at all hours, will consist of favourite roots, such as fern and some others always within reach. I cannot name one half of their fragrant dainties; but will conclude this tempting bill of fare, by wishing that, after your perusal thereof, "good digestion may wait on appetite, and health on both.' Yours, &c. KIT. THE fair-haired morn is waking In beauty from on high, And the mountains are partaking Is glowing on its breast of glass, That bears upon its mournful cheek And weeps to think that rocky peak, But as the forest monarch's spouse, From the disgrace of slavery, Thou long-loved hill of Thessaly! Within that rocky pass, But Greece shall ever cherish While transient years their shadows fling, And cold and dead his heart must be And their dewy tears, as they wave in the breeze, Moisten the spot where Leonidas fell. From our Writing-Desk. WHAT a nice thing it is when the days really begin to grow longer! we say really because we don't consider the paltry little attempts made by the aforesaid days to lengthen themselves during the first month or so after the decease of the shortest of their family, anything worth speaking of. But when they really do grow longer, when half past five finds us pen in hand, and our Editorial lamp (that magic lantern which lightens our labours when engaged in the mysteries of concocting SHARPE) yet uncalled for, we consider things are improving, and our spirit rejoices within us. For be it known unto you, good Public, that in spite of all we have said about merry Christmas, and the charms of blazing fires, fascinating turkey legs, and irresistible plum puddings, we have a strong personal antipathy to cold weather, reckon Winter a necessary evil, and welcome Spring as the shipwrecked mariner hails the -what shall we say?—the beacon light which assures him of safety, or the glass of grog awaiting him in the tap-room of the Jolly Sailor. There is a popular delusion afloat, that Autumn is something very wonderful and charming, and that it's one's duty to one's poetry to speak of that unpleasant season with a tone of affectionate interest; albeit we behold the pretty green of the trees which we have rejoiced over in Spring, and delighted in during the Summer, fading into the indescribable neutral tint of that formation which, undisguised by the jaw-distending nomenclature of Geology, is usually known as "Dunduckity mud;"- when shady lanes become shower baths, and gravel walks aqueducts. The "sere and yellow leaf" is all very nice to talk about, but if your garden could not be carpeted by the broadsheet of the Times newspaper, it will require the united services of an able-bodied man, a willing boy, a well-conditioned broom, and a sane (in contradistinction to crazy,) wheelbarrow, to keep these sere and yellow in truders in proper order. Every gust of wind occasions "a great falling-off in all branches," and a turning over old leaves, which renders the labours of the quartette above mentioned analogous to that of SisyThen there are fogs, moist affairs, damp phus. abominations with rheumatic consequences, causing one to inhale an atmosphere of diluted gruel in the country, and smoky pea soup in town, and at night bewildering the brains and mildewing the faculties of the strongest-minded coachmen, confusing their topotemporary sojourn in a ditch, where ditches are rife, or graphical knowledge to an extent which ensures a an alarming collision with the vehicle of some other mystified Jehu in the more frequented localities.-No; Autumn may be all very well for poets, painters and partridge-cides, but for ourselves, give us Spring," Primavera, gioventù del anno, as somebody (Petrarch, isn't it?) calls it, and a very promising youth we consider it. But this is not writing our postscript. We are allowing our discursive propensities to run away with us, and shall lay ourselves open to the charge of wishing to emulate the generosity of Mr. Acton Warburton, who, in treating of Rollo and his race, and following in the footsteps of the Normans, digresses, currente calamo, to Warren Hastings, whose connexion with Rollo or the !' Normans we are at a loss to discover, unless the battle of Hastings can have anything to do with it. But to business, (for little as our prelude looks like it, we have a small account of business to transact.)-Our spoilt child, the dear capricious Public, who no sooner cries out about a thing than we, enfeebled by the very strength of our affection, seek to gratify its wishes-our naughty child has lately been lifting up its voice against our wood-cuts-they are not pretty enough to please it-even that very nice young lady in our last part," in maiden meditation fancy free," failed to satisfy our fretful Publie -so not content with providing four wood-cuts with which our readers can have no real fault to find, we have determined for the future-to give no wood cuts at all! but, instead thereof, two Steel Engravings; which Engravings will themselves be worth more than the small sum of a shilling, so that for the future we shall make you, O my Public, a present of SHARPE, with all the inimitable articles contained therein, free gratis for nothing. Having thus transacted our public business, we turn to a little private matter of our own, and, no longer addressing you collectively, beg most cordially to thank two of your number, (le due Sorelle) for the very great pleasure their charming letter has given us, but in this our postscript space will not allow us to thank them as we would do, or to explain to them why their letter afforded us such peculiar satisfaction. We have therefore a favour to ask at their hands; we implore them most earnestly to write to us once more, and to send us some direction (we care not how mysteriously concealed) if it be even" Post Office, Antipodes-To be left till called for," we will submit, for we seek not to penetrate their incognita, but we are most anxious to explain to them the pleasure they have given us.--We do not fear a refusal; le due Sorelle cannot be hard-hearted. In conclusion we beg our Subscribers, and more particularly our Contributors, to observe that our Office is removed from Skinner Street, to 25, Paternoster Row, where the Magazine will in future be published, and to which direction all communications intended for us must be addressed. ا. |