EMMA.  “But they are better now, are they not?”

MRS. WILTON.  “Very slightly in these points, my dear; and still less so as regards their superstitions.  Generations to come may be free from these vices; but at present they are too deeply rooted to be discarded altogether.  They have some curious and simple notions peculiar to themselves, and some extraordinary legends concerning natural objects of earth, sea, and sky.  They account for the appearance of the face in the moon thus:—­They say, ’A native girl, named Rona, went with a calabash to fetch water.  The moon hid her pale beams behind dark and sweeping clouds.  The maid, vexed at this uncourteous behavior, pronounced a curse on the celestial orb; but as a punishment, for so doing, she stumbled and fell.  The moon descended—­raised the maid from the ground, and took her to reside on high, in her realms of silvery light.’”

MR. BARRAUD.  “A curious idea:  they have many such.  I remember an anecdote of a chief who lost a son for whom he grieved greatly; but one day a European met him, and observed he was very merry:  he accosted him, and inquired the cause of so sudden a discontinuance of his grief.  The chief replied, he had passed a bush some few days previously, when his late son, who had inserted himself into the body of a little Tikan bird, whistled to him, and bade him dry up his tears, as he felt perfectly satisfied with the quarters he then occupied.  ‘Shall I grieve at his happiness?’ added the old man.”

DORA.  “There is a sweet simplicity about that little story which prepossesses me in favor of these New Zealanders, although they were once such horrible cannibals.  Do they not tattoo very much?”

MR. WILTON.  “The art of tattooing has been brought to such perfection here, that it actually excites admiration.  It is looked upon as answering the same purposes as clothes.  When a chief throws off his mats, he seems as proud of displaying the beautiful ornaments figured on his skin, as a civilized dandy does of his fashionable attire.  Mr. Earle speaks of a man named Aranghie, a professor of the art of tattooing, thus:—­’He was considered by his countrymen a perfect master in the art, and men of the highest rank and importance were in the habit of travelling long journeys, in order to put their skins under his skilful hands.  Indeed, so highly were his works esteemed, that I have seen many of his drawings exhibited even after death.  A neighbor of mine very lately killed a chief who had been tattooed by Aranghie, and appreciating the artist’s work so highly, he skinned the chieftain’s thighs, and covered his cartouch box with it!—­I was astonished to see with what boldness and precision Aranghie drew his designs upon the skin, and what beautiful ornaments he produced:  no rule and compasses could be more exact than the lines and circles he formed.  So unrivalled is he in his profession, that a highly finished face of a chief from the hands of this artist, is as greatly prized in New Zealand as a head from the pencil of Sir Thomas Lawrence is amongst us.  Such respect was paid to this man by the natives, that Mr. Earle expresses the gratification he felt, on seeing the fine arts held in such estimation by the savages.”