I now give Maori cases, communicated to me by Mr. Tregear, F.R.G.S., author of a ‘Maori Comparative Dictionary.’

A very intelligent Maori chief said to me, ’I have seen but two ghosts.  I was a boy at school in Auckland, and one morning was asleep in bed when I found myself aroused by some one shaking me by the shoulder.  I looked up, and saw bending over me the well-known form of my uncle, whom I supposed to be at the Bay of Islands.  I spoke to him, but the form became dim and vanished.  The next mail brought me the news of his death.  Years passed away, and I saw no ghost or spirit—­not even when my father and mother died, and I was absent in each case.  Then one day I was sitting reading, when a dark shadow fell across my book.  I looked up, and saw a man standing between me and the window.  His back was turned towards me.  I saw from his figure that he was a Maori, and I called out to him, “Oh friend!” He turned round, and I saw my other uncle, Ihaka.  The form faded away as the other had done.  I had not expected to hear of my uncle’s death, for I had seen him hale and strong a few hours before.  However, he had gone into the house of a missionary, and he (with several white people) was poisoned by eating of a pie made from tinned meat, the tin having been opened and the meat left in it all night.  That is all I myself had seen of spirits.’

One more Maori example may be offered:[10]

From Mr. Francis Dart Fenton, formerly in the Native Department of the Government, Auckland, New Zealand.  He gave the account in writing to his friend, Captain J.H.  Crosse, of Monkstown, Cork, from whom we received it.  In 1852, when the incident occurred, Mr. Fenton was ’engaged in forming a settlement on the banks of the Waikato.’

’March 25, 1860

’Two sawyers, Frank Philps and Jack Mulholland, were engaged cutting timber for the Rev. R. Maunsell at the mouth of the Awaroa creek—­a very lonely place, a vast swamp, no people within miles of them.  As usual, they had a Maori with them to assist in felling trees.  He came from Tihorewam, a village on the other side of the river, about six miles off.  As Frank and the native were cross-cutting a tree, the native stopped suddenly, and said, “What are you come for?” looking in the direction of Frank.  Frank replied, “What do you mean?” He said, “I am not speaking to you; I am speaking to my brother.”  Frank said, “Where is he?” The native replied, “Behind you.  What do you want?” (to the other Maori), Frank looked round and saw nobody.  The native no longer saw anyone, but bid down the saw and said, “I shall go across the river; my brother is dead.”

’Frank laughed at him, and reminded him that be had left him quite well on Sunday (five days before), and there had been no communication since.  The Maori spoke no more, but got into his canoe and pulled across.  When he arrived at the landing-place, he met people coming to fetch him.  His brother had just died.  I knew him well.’