breathing forth the profound grief of friends of liberal government at the cutting off of the great Premier in the sum.mertime of his usefulness.

VIII. THE GRIEF OF THE MAORIS.

The Maoris had learned to love the great Premier and to look on him as a father, and when the news spread from north to south throughout the native settlements, that the great chief had suddenly fallen in death, great and genuine was the sorrow of this primitive people. Their chiefs and leading representatives begged the privilege of holding a funeral service over the dead at Wellington, similar to that which for generations they had held over the dead bodies of their greatest warriors and chieftains. Their request was granted, and a time was appointed for the Maoris to lament after their custom. Between three and four hundred of the leading men and women of the various tribes in the north and south islands assembled, fully fifty of whom were prominent women among the Maoris. The obsequies conducted in the capitol at Wellington were thrillingly weird. Never before had such funeral honors been accorded a Christian statesman. So strange and memorable was this ceremony that came from the heart of a wonderful primitive people, so redolent of the wild, free, aboriginal life, and so highly poetic were many of the utterances, that we are tempted to quote somewhat at length from the chieftains' laments and the chants of the Maoris, which at times remind one strongly of the poems of Ossian and make it easy to understand how the gifted author of that unique creation imposed upon the literary world.

moaning winds appealed to the vivid imagination of the natives as strangely fitting.

"The skies are pouri (sorrowful) and lowering. It is fitting, for we also are pouri and dark at heart," said the mourners one to another. And when the remains of Mr. Seddon were brought into the House of Parliament, the thrilling and mournful ceremony by the natives was opened by this admonition, chanted by the mourners:

"Haere atu e koro, haere ra! Haere ra!" meaning, "Go, O friend! Farewell!!-a_long_farewell!!!

And then, in a direct manner, as has been their wont for hundreds of years when in the presence of the mighty dead, the mourners chanted this invocation to the spirit of the great one:

"Farewell!! Go ye by the great pathway of the countless dead; "T is the last road that all must tread."

The ceremonies were as weird as they of the different tribes uttered their mournwere impressive, as one by one the leaders ful plaint, which was taken up by the

rest of the band of the tribe in a sad but

musical chanting refrain. Here are some

extracts from their lamentations and

funeral chants as given by the New Zealand Graphic:

"Then tribe after tribe rose to pay tribute to the dead. Chief after chief stood up to deliver his 'poroporoiki,' his salute to the spirit of Te Hetana. Up rose Hori Te Huki, a gray old chief of Ngatikahungunu, ‘Haere ate e koro'; 'farewell, old man,' he cried, 'go thou to that last dwelling place to salute thy honored ancestors, to greet the spirits of the mighty dead.'

"Then Te Huki broke out into a plaintive lament, in which all his people quick

TATIONS EVER HEARD OVER A CIV

ILIZED STATESMAN'S BIER.

The morning of the funeral of the Premier was dark, stormy and forbidding. The lowering and overcast skies and the

was an ancient lament by a widow for her departed husband. Restless I lie within my lonely house, for the loved one of my life has passed away.' The singers, their voices rising and falling in wild cadence, went on to compare the vanished

chieftain to an uprooted tree: 'My shelter from the blustering wind, alas, 't is now laid low.' Then the poet developed another beautiful piece of imagery: 'Behold yon glittering star so bright, perhaps 'tis my beloved friend returned to me again. O sire, return and tread with me again by old loved paths.' Changing the metaphor yet again, the mourners chanted all together: 'O thou that art gone, thou wert as a great canoe decked with the snowy down of the lordly albatross.'

In another dirge introducing many mythological allusions, the poet said, 'Thou 'rt borne away in the canoe Rewarewa, snatched from us by the gods Raukatauri and Ruatangata. Dip deep the paddles all together to bear thee far away.'

"A Ngaitahu dirge now came: હા હ "Keen blows the nor'-west wind from the mountain land, bringing sad thoughts of thee. Where, oh, hetana, art thou gone? Perhaps in the council hall thou 'rt laid to await thy people's coming. Yes, there lies thy mortal shell, resting at last from its many, from its innumerable travels, from its ceaseless going to and fro. Yes, thou art returned to thy people round yonder mountain cape, back to thy dwelling place. Rest from thy travels, O well beloved. One sharp pang darts through my soul, O lordly totara tree, the pride of Tane's woods. Thou 'rt lowly laid, as was the canoe of Rata, the son of Tane, launched for vengeance on the slayer Matuku, who soon himself was slain. "T was thou alone that death didst pluck from the midst of loving men, and now thou standst alone like the bright star of morning. For us, naught but sad memories. Sleep soundly, friend.'

"The veteran Wi Pere, ex-M.H.R. for the Eastern Maori electorate, was the next in the order of 'Whaikoreo.' 'Farewell,' he cried, 'farewell, O friend of mine! Depart to the great night, Te Po, that opens wide for you.' When he began his tribal funeral chant, 'Haere ra e

Koro,' he was joined by his people of Te Aitanga-a-mahaki, Te Rongowhakata, and Ngatiporou in the stentorian song:

"Farewell, O Friend!

Depart to thine ancestral company.

Thou 'rt plucked from us as the flax shoot is plucked from the bush and held aloft among the

mourners.

Thou that wert our boast, our pride, whose name has soared high,

Thy people now art lone and desolate.
Indeed, thou 'rt gone, O friend!

Thou 'rt vanished like our ocean fleet of old,

The famed canoes Atamira, Hotutaihirangi, Tai

opuapua,

Te Rarotuamahenia, Te Araiteuru, and Nukutaimemeha,

The canoe that drew up from the sea this solid land.'

"The allusion in this poem to the shoot of the flaxbush (Te Rite Harakeke) requires a little explanation. It refers to one of the old-time methods of divination practiced by the tohungas prior to a warparty setting out on the enemy's trail. The omen reader would pluck up the 'ite' or middle shoot of a flax plant. If the end broke off evenly and straight it was a good sign, presaging an easy victory. If it was jagged and gapped or torn, that was a Tohu kino,' or evil omen, a warning that a leading chief of the warparty would be slain.

"The ancient canoes enumerated were some of those which brought the ancestors of the East Coast tribes to this country from the islands of Polynesia. The Araiteuru is the sailing canoe which was wrecked on the beach near Moeraki, South Canterbury, six centuries ago. Nukutiamemeha is one of the mythological names of the canoe from which in the days of remote antiquity the great maui 'fished up' this North Island of New Zealand.

"A moment's breathing space, and Wi began again, and all his people chanted with him their lament beginning, 'Marumaru, Rawa mai Te whake Ki Poneke': "Affliction's deepest gloom enfolds this house, For in it Seddon lies,

Whose death eats out our hearts.
"T was he to whom we closest clung,
In days gone by.

O whispering north-west breeze,

Flow far for me,

Waft me to Poneke, and take me to the friend I loved

In days gone by.

O people and all tribes, Raise the loud cry of grief,

For the ships of Fate have passed Port Jackson's distant cape,

And on the all-destroying sea our great one died."" Another touching incident connected with the Maori's part at the funeral of the Prime-Minister was the presenting to the family of Mr. Seddon of a memorial drawn up in the Maori and translated into English, expressing the grief of the natives and their sense of loss at the death of their great friend and chieftain. The message was engrossed on a scroll and was read by Mr. Carroll, the Maori member of the Cabinet, after which it was presented to the family of the late Premier. As this message is somewhat unique in literature, we present the Eng

lish translation in full:

"To Mrs. Seddon, in memory of Richard John Seddon, Premier of New Zealand, from the Maori tribes of Ao-tea-roa (North Island) and Te Wai-pounamu (South Island). Remain, O mother, with thy children and thy children's children. Tarry ye a while in the house of mourning, in the Chamber of Death. Clasp but the cold form of him who was to thee husband beloved. He is now from thee parted, gone into the dark night, into that long, long sleep. God be with thee in thine hour of trial. Here he lies Here he lies in the calm majesty of death. Rest, oh father. The tribes have assembled to mourn their loss. The canoe is cast from its moorings, its energy and guide are no more. The red-hued bird, the kakakura, the ornament of Ao-tea-roa, the proud boast of the Wai-pounamu, the mighty heart of the land, the moving spirit of the people, fare thee well, a long farewell. Pass on, O noble one, across the long sands of Haumu, beyond the barrier of Paerau, going before to join the illustrious dead. Woe unto us that are left desolate in the Valley of Sorrow. In life thou wert great. Across the great

ocean of kiwa, beset by the turbulent waves of faction, mid the jerserve minds of opinion, thou didst essay forth that thy peoples should reap of the benefits, that these islands and thy mother race should see and do their duty in the broader spheres of Empire and humanity. Fate relentless seized thee in the midocean of effort, and compelled thee into the still waters of death, of rest. Sleep thou, O father, resting on great deeds, sure that to generations unborn they will be as beacons along the highways of history. Though thou art gone, may thy spirit, which so long moved the heart of things, inspire us to greater and nobler ends. Stay not your lamentations, O ye peoples, for ye have indeed lost a father. Verily our path of refuge is razed to the ground. The breastwork of defence for great and small is taken; torn up by the roots is the overshadowing rata tree. As the fall of the towering totara in the deep forest of Tane (Te Waonui a tane), so is the death of the mighty man. Earth quakes to the rending crash. Our shelter is gone, who will temper the wind? What of thy Maori people hereafter, unless thou canst from thy distant bourne help and inspire the age to kindlier impulse and action? So bide ye in your grief, bereaved ones. Though small our tribute, our hearts have spoken. Our feet have trod the sacred precincts of the courtyard of death (Te marae o aitua), our hearts will be his grave. Love will keep his memory green through the long weary years. Hei Konei ra. Farewell."

The life of Richard John Seddon cannot fail to prove an inspiration to every young man and woman of conscience, courage and conviction. The child who was born in the little ivy-covered cottage outside the hamlet of St. Helens, who became an engineer and later a penniless miner, through long perseverence, hard work and a lofty ambition ever guided by moral idealism and the spirit of freedom and fraternity, became ere-long one of the world's greatest positive moral

forces in legislation; a man who played a major part in leading his commonwealth to the very van of advanced, progressive, wise and humane civilization; the most illustrious apostle of free institutions of the past fifty years; and a man whose ideals and deeds to-day shine as a beacon throughout the world of reaction

ary thought, pointing to the justice-kissed heights of pure democracy, where man counts more than money, where the solidarity of the race is recognized, and where the principles of the Golden Rule become the practical ideal of the State. B. O. FLOWER.

Boston, Mass.

T

O MAKE business serve the real purposes of rational living; to throw around the man who toils the highest and most inspiring social, educational and industrial environments; to harmonize the differences between capital and labor by an equitable distribution of profits, and to make the world a better and more beautiful place in which to live, are the four-fold objects of N. O. Nelson, the picturesque Western philanthropist, whose coöperative colony at Leclaire, Illinois, is a marvelous study in simplicity and humanitarianism, and a very near approach to human perfection.

The problem of common-sense living, in the philosophy of Mr. Nelson, embraces six primary factors-work, education, recreation, beauty, homes, and freedom. These obligations which the individual owes to society cannot be satisfactorily fulfilled, nor these rights and privileges which society owes him cannot be enjoyed, under the best conditions, Mr. Nelson believes, until there has been a thorough reconstruction of twentiethcentury business ideals. The system which encourages the building up of colossal fortunes at the sacrifice of personal honor upon the altar of greedwhich condones trickery and bargaindriving as commercial shrewdness, and makes the under-employés the instru

ments for grinding out dividends, without regard to their social or physical welfare-in the estimation of this business reformer, is entirely wrong. During a business career of forty years Mr. Nelson has witnessed the continued growth of capital at such an accelerated rate that it has become top-heavy, placing in the hands of the extremely wealthy, a tremendous power that has greatly complicated our mode of living. Business has been made the chief aim and object of life, instead of an incident in the problem of right living. The millionaire surrounds himself with luxury in his palace in an exclusive residence neighborhood-his employés exist in the germcharged atmosphere of the crowded slums. Life for the one is a train of complex indulgences-for the other a miserable poverty that robs him of opportunity and all but the necessities of a bare existence. Rational living is impossible for the one because he has too much-for the other because he has too little. There is no common ground upon which they may mutualize their interests. It is to get back to right principles-to a commonsense, simple system of living that Mr. Nelson has instituted and carried to a successful conclusion a radical departure in social and business customs.

Wealthy himself, and the master-genius

of a great manufacturing business, Mr. Nelson lives in the sphere of simple democracy. He is carrying out his own ideas of philanthropy and business reform. He stands uniquely alone as the one man in the country still actively engaged in business who takes not a dollar of profit for his own use. For twenty years he has been sharing the profits of his business with the employés in his factories, salesrooms and offices. Recently he made another step. He admitted his customers to partnership in his company. His share of profits from the business, amounting last year to $108,000, was distributed among his employés, customers and the public. He has built Leclaire, a thriving, model city for himself and his employés to live in. He has established a consumptive colony in the Indio desert of Southern California, where the victims of the great white plague who find themselves stranded in a strange country, may regain their health and strength. He is building homes for the employés of his factories in Bessemer, Alabama, and kindergartens for their children. He gives large sums for philanthropy; little for charity. If there were more philanthropy, he believes, there would be no need for charity. If business were made to serve the purposes of sensible living there would be little necessity for almshouses, or jails, or penitentiaries.

Ideas are one thing; their execution another. Mr. Nelson has the ideas, and the ability, means and determination to execute them. He has put into practice what looks beautiful in theory. The real, practical philanthropy, as Mr. Nelson has interpreted it through his work and the institutions he has founded, has a far-reaching influence in the elevation of the race to a higher and nobler plane of living.

Choosing the rock of common-sense benevolence as a substantial foundation Mr. Nelson proceeded to work his ideas into tangible things. Thirty years ago he began to take an unusual interest in

labor troubles. Though an employer, he sympathized with the men under him who were struggling for a foothold. There is no particular event in his life that can be regarded as the turning-point toward a career of philanthropy. His first work of any consequence in the direction of a public charity was in 1879 when he organized a fresh-air mission in St. Louis which has annually given free summer excursions on the Mississippi river for the benefit of the mothers and children of the tenements. A few years later he built a number of bath-houses on the river-front, which were free to everybody. About twenty years ago he was appointed a member of a citizens' committee to wait on H. M. Hoxie, manager of the Gould system, to devise means of settling the great railroad strike that was paralyzing the industries of the country. The committee went to New York, but was denied an audience with the railroad official. This caused Mr. Nelson to delve deeper into the labor question. His conclusion, after much investigation, was that there could be no industrial peace until the conflicting elements between capital and labor had been harmonized. It was his opinion that capital was receiving more than its just proportion of wages, and that labor was underpaid. Several large European manufacturers were experimenting with profitsharing. Mr. Nelson liked the idea. He decided to put it into use. Since 1886 every employé of the Nelson industries has received in dividend-bearing stock a share of the profits of the company.

Four years later Leclaire rose like a magic city upon the gently undulating Illinois prairie, near the little town of Edwardsville, twenty miles from St. Louis. That was the real beginning of Mr. Nelson's broader and more effective philanthropic work. He has continued with such splendid success that it is no more than simple justice to rank him among the greatest benefactors to his race that America has produced. Admirable as Mr. Nelson's work is, he has