The church and battlefield at Ohaeawal, Bay of Islands.

How many motorists who travel the road between Ohaeawai and Kaikohe, Bay of Islands, take notice of a little church standing on a slight eminence and surrounded by a stone wall; a lone building without access, save through the paddocks amongst which it stands. On 1st July every year there is surely some stirring amid the grass; bugle calls, however faint; an echo from the hills of Maori warrior cries; a smell of powder in the air. For around the spot marked by the little church many gallant men advanced to certain death in an assault on the native defenders of their land, impregnably entrenched behind three circles of stockades. As late as 1914 a number of cannon balls and a broken cannon could be seen lying there to remind one of

“Old, far-off forgotten things,
And battles long ago.”

On the hill to the right of the church Colonel Despard assembled his forces; units of the Navy and Army, and volunteers from Auckland. On rising ground to the left camped friendly Maoris. That was in the year 1845 and our artillery was such that at two hundred yards the cannon balls were no more effective against the puriri stockade than would have been so many tennis balls. As was natural the defenders were incensed by their renegade brothers and made a sortie against them, capturing a British ensign which they hoisted above their stockade, upside down above an emblem of their own.

What can we say for the colonel who ordered the advance? With the traditions of the Peninsular and Waterloo, of Marlborough and Wellington, to be mocked by a horde of cannibals and savages in the last discovered land

Another view of the battlefield showing portion of the wall which surrounds the church.

hardly left his judgment cool. How was he to know that the Maori had perfected his defensive beyond the conceptions of Uncle Toby and European engineers? Ah! but the defenders possessed two guns. One was known to have been obtained from a British frigate they had burned. One mentioned before in this article lay in pieces on the field until recently, when a local antiquary carried it off. It came to grief in a unique manner, for a British projectile entered its muzzle during the preliminary bombardment, shattering the tube. In any case the loss was not important, as the defence had only some bullock chains to load with.

The British advance was down, and then up, a gentle slope, as any one who cares to stop at the hamlet of Ngawha may see for himself, taking the church for the centre of the camp. He may see, too, the hollow of the trenches outside the wall. The defenders were in page 24

(Photo., courtesy James Newson, Brakpan, Transvaal).
Anzac Station on the Main Line, Electric Railway, about 24 miles east of Johannesburg, South Africa.

trenches so that they fired invisibly from the base of the outer stockade while the doomed British moved across the open. Did they hope for a repetition of the fall of Jericho? For there was only one ladder brought to the offence. A sapper placed it in position and a young sailor climbed it to be killed within the pa. The Maori did not care for death on the premises; they became “tapu,” so that, as usual, the British won in the end, as the Maoris withdrew under cover of night to Kaikohe.

Forty British dead marked that assault, brief as it was. Lieutenant Phillpotts from H.M.S. Hazard, stripped himself of his uniform before going into action, and courting death deliberately, he fell—whether as a protest or for another motive we do not know.

The descendants of the Maori braves erected the pretty church we now see. They also removed the remains of the British fallen from a nearby field and erected above them a memorial cross.

As an inexpensive contribution to our Centennial celebrations and for the purpose of cultivating our historical sense, a descriptive tablet by the roadside, stating some particulars of the action known as the Battle of Ohaeawai would draw the attention of many a chance traveller. To some, perhaps, indifference; to some it might be, in this queer age, a slight irritation of the existence, even, of the past; and to others a deep pondering on the bravery, the nobility and the ultimate significance of human life.

Where three streams join the Waikato River near Wairakel.

The Litter Nuisance.

The lead which the Railway Department has given in an endeavour to overcome the nuisance caused by the indiscriminate throwing of litter from railway carriages is one that might well be followed generally (says the “Evening Post,” Wellington). Although New Zealanders are probably no worse than the people of many other countries, the fact remains that they are far too careless in disposing of litter, and the result is that streets, parks, and other public places have an appearance of untidiness. Some local bodies may be held partly culpable in not providing sufficient rubbish receptacles and in not keeping streets and other public places clear of litter, but the real solution of the difficulty lies with the public. If people would stop to think before disposing of rubbish there would be no nuisance. It is really all a matter of education. The Railway Department has made a start and if the example is followed by local bodies and other authorities a general improvement should be the result. The average person is not naturally untidy, and if the standards that apply in the average home were applied outside the home the litter nuisance would be greatly minimised. A distinguished visitor to New Zealand once described New Zealand as “a slovenly democracy.” He was referring to political methods, but a similar allegation might lie on other grounds. The best way to avoid such charges in the future is to remove the cause.