e of one of these--Tamihana--has already been noticed. Still more
remarkable is that of his warlike nephew, Ngakuku, whose name brings us
to one of the most touching incidents in the history of Maori
Christianity.

Ngakuku was not an avowed Christian, but he had sent his little
daughter, Tarore, to live with Mrs. Brown--one of the ladies whom we
found sheltering by the river bank in their flight from Matamata. In the
mission house the child Tarore had learned to read, and had been given a
copy of the Gospel of St. Luke. In the middle of October her father took
her and a younger brother on a journey to Tauranga. The party consisted
of several Maoris, and an Englishman who was connected with the mission.
At night they encamped at the foot of Wairere, where a magnificent
cascade falls from the high forest land above. After their meal, Ngakuku
offered prayers to the God whom he was just beginning to know, and when
they laid down to rest, Tarore pillowed her head upon her precious
Gospel. But their fire had been noticed by a party of Rotoruas far up
the valley. These crept down during the night, and just before daylight
made a sudden attack upon the camp. The Englishman's tent was the first
to be entered, and while it was being stripped, Ngakuku had time to
seize his little son and to escape into the bush. He tried to arouse
Tarore also, but the child was heavy with sleep and had to be abandoned.
When the enemy departed, the agonised father came down from his retreat
and found lying in the hut the mangled corpse of his little girl. He
carried it to Mr. Brown at Matamata, with the words, "My heart is sad,
for I do not know whether my child has gone to heaven or to the Reinga."
After evening prayers in the chapel, he rose and spoke to those present
from the words so new to him, "In my Father's house are many mansions."
Next day Tarore was buried amidst a scene of the deepest solemnity. The
father spoke at the close with strong feeling: "There lies my child; she
has been murdered as a payment for your bad conduct. But do not you
rise up to obtain satisfaction for her. God will do that. Let this be
the conclusion of the war with Rotorua. Let peace be now made. My heart
is not sad for Tarore, but for you. You wished teachers to come to you:
they came, but now you are driving them away."

"God will obtain satisfaction," said Ngakuku. Bishop Williams remarks on
the notable circumstance that, in an attack made upon Matamata some
we