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hair was singed off, and he was ready for the “Koppah.” Having seen my father “bleed” a pig, they gave up the drowning business, and imitated him in so far as the killing went, but always adhered to the singeing in preference to the plotting and scraping. Some other customs in reference to cooking, and food generally, I also recollect. Maize and karaka berries they steeped in semi-stagnant water (by damming up a slowly-running stream) for three weeks. It was then withdrawn, black-looking, and emitting a vile stench, and, when dry, ground into a kind of flour between stones. Rotten potatoes, which they collected when digging, were treated in the same fashion. They used to declare that the smell disappeared in the cooking. I remember one spring a cow of my father’s died of milk fever, and was promptly buried. The Maoris discovered this three days after, and asked my father if they could disinter her. He assented, but told them she was buried three days ago. They assured him that was no detriment, and they dug up the cow and devoured her, and pronounced her “kapai.” There were no bad results; neither were there, when, subsequently, they
