Sent a letter home with my diary by the French cruiser "Protet," which will leave it for the mail at Tahiti, and so it will reach San Francisco five days earlier, and bring home the first news of our detention. To-day the trade winds were blowing, and the breeze, though warm, was pleasant. I read a clever, amusing, and suggestive story of travel," The Lightning Conductor," alternately with the too ponderous "Mormons." In the afternoon we went with our host and hostess and four rowers, boys from the Savii Islands, savage-looking men, and, unlike the Samoans, good workers, to the Northern Point, where we got the boat up the reef, and the men carried us ashore. We went up through the bush—for such it really is rather than forest, there being no soil to root or mature large trees—to the lighthouse, whence we watched a wild savage on the rocks below page 52 fishing with his three-pronged spear; then to Lavi the native village on the other side of the point, looking out on to the ocean. What a different world theirs from that of their neighbours in the bay! For them the boundless sea and the great waves forever booming on the shore; for us the far-off sound of the surf, heard on still nights from over the hill, and the lap of inland waters on the edge of a path that has no fear of ever being washed away.

Thursday, 27th.—In the afternoon walked alone along the opposite shore and called on one of the priests, whom I found at home. He told me that they had about 800 Catholics, but would have nearly double the number if all who were baptised remained true. "The natives were like others, good, bad, and indifferent. They had a school for Catechists, whom they sent out to teach in the villages. They were difficult to manage, to punish one would involve the breaking up of the school, for all would desert. They thought themselves just as good and better than the whites." He had been ten years at work among them, and seemed to have little faith or hope in him. It was his business and had to be done, and verily, from his point of view, a dreary business enough. Souls ever passing on to hell, and indifferent to the hand reached out to save them! But how far the decent savage may be right in esteeming himself the equal or superior of the white man were a question difficult to answer. Certainly such gentle, cleanly, civil, peaceable people are not to be looked for among the lower classes of our English towns, and the page 53 contrast in build and carriage between them and the French sailors lately among us was immensely to their advantage.

On the way back I passed a dwelling where a dozen or more were at prayers, saying the rosary, I suppose, in Samoan. They seemed devout enough, but how much the better, I wonder, for the exercise, or how much the better for white men ever having come among them? The Mormons here make as many converts as the Catholics, and do much better in the way of schools.

Friday, 28th.—Finished Linn's Story of the Mormons; which I should have never got through under conditions more favourable as respects the choice of the books. It is too long (618 large 8vo pp.) (or the reader who is content with general information on the subject. But what a humiliating story of credulity and fraud! Were those men led to follow Joseph Smith into the wilderness superior to these brown men here? And what an immense success! A poor, ignorant man, without character or apparent gift of any kind, unless that of living by craft, to found a church and maintain it in opposition to the multitude and the country and leave it apparently a permanent institution after him! Who would covet success after such success as Joe Smith's?

Visited the Government School here. Some forty-five hoys under a lady teacher; they sang for us the National Anthem, "My native land," &c., with a show of enthusiasm, though scarce a word could have had a meaning for them.

This evening we had an experience of genuine savage life, so extravagant that I can scarcely believe that it was not all a dream. There was a feast in honour of the birth of a grandson to a native chief, and we heard that in the evening there would be a "siva," or dance. So about 7-30 we made our way to the village, and were taken to the chief's house. He received us most politely, and we were accommodated with mats and sat down on the floor strewn with broken coral and very clean. The preparation of "kava," the native non-alcoholic drink, was begun in our honour. It is made of a root which used to be chewed by girls selected for the purpose, but is now ground on a grater, fresh water is then poured on it, and the fibre strained out. It is served in a cocoanut cup, which is handed by the cup-bearer to each guest in turn as designated by the chief. I, who had been introduced as a "mijinery," the only kind of minister of religion they know of, was the first to drink, then came my wife and the other English ladies and gentlemen in turn. It is in appearance soapy water, in taste slightly bitter. Partaken of largely it is said to affect the legs, but is otherwise harmless. It is the only made drink of the natives here, for the sale of intoxicating liquor is strictly forbidden.

After we had all drunk we adjourned to the house where the dance was to take place. It was crowded with men and women, all decently clothed according to the fashion of the country, the men with loin cloths of various patterns, the women with some kind of jacket in addition, all of them adorned with necklaces, page 55 anklets and bracelets of flowers. A paraffin oil lamp hung from the ceiling. In the centre were seated the chief men, and before them was a clear space. Room was soon made for our party of three white ladies and half-a-dozen men, and there we sat, awkwardly enough, upon the ground, an ungraceful contrast to our brown neighbours. Presently nine men seated themselves in a row, and palm oil was brought, with which they plentifully besmeared themselves. Then began a weird monotonous chant, the woman behind acting the part of chorus. Presently the performers began to sway their bodies and arms, accompanying the song with apparently symbolic action. After awhile four leapt to their feet and danced in a way that reminded me of little boys whom I had seen jumping about and grimacing, as a mere expression of superfluous vitality. There was a pause, and kava was served again. Then on the other side of the open house came in the representatives of another village, perhaps that of the baby's mother, who were participating in the festivities. They seated themselves, and presently entered the Taupa, or Maiden of the Village, adorned with a prodigious head-dress and immense plumes of yellow hair, out of which rose five reeds, with glass trinkets attached. Very queenly she looked, though with legs and arms bare, except of flowers. All the wealth of the tribe was on her well-formed figure, and the head-dress gave her the look of a giantess, so that till I saw her afterwards, uncrowned, I could not believe but that she was at least six feet in height. She sat in the middle of the row, and sedately took page 56 part in the song and movements, which began again. Then, with three others, she stood up and went through the same noisy uncouth dance, in which every limb had part. And we sat and watched, crowded in with great-limbed, half-naked men. I had for support of my back a big brown knee, whose owner occasionally patted my shoulders and fanned my wife with our friend's straw hat. He was a great chief I was told, and I felt the honour of his patronage.

After two hours we were tired out, for broken coral is a hard seat, even when a palm leaf mat is spread over it. So out of the hurly-burly we made our way into the silent night.

What may go on when no white visitors are present of course I cannot say, but I can witness to the perfect propriety of all I saw. The clothing was, indeed, scanty, not more so than that which may often enough be seen on the English stage, but there was absolutely no suggestion of anything in the least unbecoming or indecent. Indeed, the decency of this half-naked people astonishes me. I have been to and fro among the villages, and never seen anything dirty or offensive on the part of man, woman, or even child. They seem possessed of an innate sense of propriety and cleanliness. They remind one of well-bred children, and are like children in inquisitiveness. "Where you go?" they will ask if they meet you on the way. "Where you sleep?" follows when you have given them such information as the scanty vocabulary which is common to you affords. Dear, page 57 big, lovable, strong, gentle children! They have no idea of saving or private ownership; if a man earns a few dollars, his people come as soon as he is paid and help him to spend it. Food in especial is common property, and no native would think of refusing another a share of whatever he has. "No better than a foreigner" is their contemptuous description of the man who tries to save.

One consequence of this practical communism is that labour is scarce and dear. Why should a man work hard for a wage which will not profit him? Whatever he may earn, his friends will come and share with him. So the Government has had to import labourers from less fortunate islands to do the toilsome work of excavating and road making, which has been needed to make a harbour and wharf and coaling station. They will no doubt learn our ways in time, and each look after his own family and accumulate a bit of money by hard work, and take to petty theft, now almost or altogether unknown among them. They will be more serviceable to the stranger. Will they be as happy or as good, or even as Christian as they now are?

Saturday, 22nd.—Dined with the Commandant and Mrs. Underwood, who, I was pleased to find, had formed, from their longer and deeper experience, the same view of the native character to which I had been led from the little observation I had the opportunity of making. They are all children, big and little boys and girls, and their worst faults are those of rowdy undergraduates.

They told me how they wanted to return the hospitalities they had received from the head men, and being in difficulties how to do it, for they would have made their guests supremely uncomfortable by seating them on chairs round a table, they bethought them of having a "donkey-party." The outline of a tailless donkey was drawn upon the wall, and each guest in turn was blindfolded and led to put on the tail. They enjoyed themselves immensely, and the giant chief won the booby prize and went away delighted. He had come in shoes and stockings, but unable long to bear the discomfort, went out and left them with his umbrella in the hall and came back like the others barefooted. Another time he walked up to the station, laughing all the way as he led a rat by a string, dragging it on behind him.

Sunday, 30th.—Service as last Sunday in the Court House. Sang "Lead, kindly light," and three other unobjectionable hymns, the sailors joining in heartily. I preached on Micah's grand definition of religion (vi. 6, 7, 8), and tried so to explain that all might accept it whatever their religious opinions.

Had lunch with Lieut, and Mrs. Parmenter, the former of Newport, R.I., and of Unitarian family, the latter of Boston. In the afternoon one of the United States sailors called on me because he too was called Hargrove, and told me the name was common in Kentucky. His father had fought on the "rebel side" in the great war, he was now serving in the fleet, and very happy and contented. When he had served his time and saved a little money would start out to see page 59 the world. In the evening Mr. Smith went with me to pay a call on Governor Maunga, the native head chief of the Island. We found him seated, of course, on the floor in his beautiful house, the finest, I was told, in the island. It is said to have cost 800 dollars, but that would not include the free labour spent on it. Like all other Samoan dwellings it is open all round, except for mat curtains let down as desired. No nails are used in the construction, but rafters and beams are bound together with cord of cocoanut fibre. The chief is a man of immense bulk. He was dressed in the customary lava-lava of bark-cloth about the loins, and for distinction wore white boots and stockings, Mr. Smith gave him a cigar, which he put away for a better occasion, and filled his pipe with native tobacco. In return his wife, a little woman of forty, said to watch over him jealously, produced some very large and excellent bananas which she set before us. There were only five others in the house, seated at a ceremonious distance, and as the conversation languished, for Maunga speaks no English and my friend had but a few words of Samoan, and as the floor of pebbles, though scrupulously clean, was very hard, we were glad to take leave as soon as politeness permitted. I am told that Maunga, as king, gets an allowance of twenty dollars a month (twenty-five shillings a week) from the Government, and as he is expected to give hospitality to all comers he has an additional allowance for food.

Monday, 31st.—In the morning I walked over again to see the priests, and this time found Father Belwood, page 60 who speaks English well, at home. He is a very intelligent man, and generally confirmed my previous impressions about the natives, but he says they are already deteriorating under the influence of the white people. The Society of Maristes, to which he belongs, have charge of this group of islands. They have a bishop and 24 priests, four or them natives. When he first came to Tutuila, five years ago, there was no regular communication with the outside world, and they would be five months, in the season of the trade winds, without a boat calling in.

Their little house is the poorest I have seen here, the floor of pebbles, the furniture of the barest, no grace or comfort about it. The other priest, I was told, has contracted elephantiasis, the great scourge of the island, said to be disseminated by mosquitos. What does it matter to men who really believe, and hope in a few years time to be in Heaven?

At four o'clock Mr. Smith and I started for Pago-sa, a village in a deep bay on the other side of the hills. The old path which I saw was very rough and steep, but a comparatively easy one has now been made, in a way illustrative of native habits and character. It seems that a chief's son desired to have the Taupa, or village maiden of Pago-sa, to wife, and made her presents of mats, but the maiden scorned him. Whereupon, with some thirty companions, he attacked the village by night and burnt down two houses. The rioters were had up before the court, in which the chief, Maunga, sits with the U. S. magistrate, and on conviction of riot and arson, were sentenced to five page 61 years imprisonment, or, as an alternative, to pay a fine of 500 dollars, re-build the two houses, and make a path six feet wide over the ridge. As was expected, they accepted the alternative. It would have been awkward had they done otherwise, for there is no room in the little prison for so many, even if it were at present empty. Then they sent word to their friends and relations in the neighbouring villages. Two hundred men were presently at work on the new road, which was finished in a fortnight. Two disused houses will be taken over the pass to replace the old ones. The fine will be paid, and the young men having had their spree, are as pleased as undergraduates who having made a bonfire in the Market Square at Cambridge in despite of police and proctors, cheerfully pay the penalty next day, and make compensation to the owners of shutters and fences used for fuel.

Tuesday 1st November.—Poorly all day and worse at night, which is no wonder, living as I have been this fortnight, in an hot-house atmosphere. I resolutely kept my thoughts from dwelling on my ailments, and though worse at night, gradually improved.

Wednesday, 2nd.—The boat from San Francisco came in at 8 o'clock and brought all our luggage back from Honolulu, which would have been cheering news to me if I had been in a condition better capable of appreciating anything. My first really idle day, neither" doing or caring for aught.

At 6 p.m. the Maori, the tiny packet which plies every three weeks between here and Apia, took us on page 62 board "with the mails and a miscellaneous crowd, white, brown, and neutral. We made ourselves as little uncomfortable as we could on the deck, resigned to twelve hours of tossing in the darkness, but were awakened about two in the morning by a heavy shower, which wet us before we quite knew where we were. So we passed the rest of the night cooped below.

Thursday, 3rd, Island of Upolu.—Anchored at Apia about six o'clock and went ashore to the Tivoli Hotel, a fine two-storied building, surrounded by a verandah of the same height. In the oppressive morning heat we did nothing, but in the afternoon went to the Mission Station close by and had tea with the superintendent, the Rev. Mr. Sibree, a fine-looking young man, who lost his wife here four years ago. Then we drove with Miss Moore, of Leone, Tutuila, who has sole charge of the school for native girls there and had come here for the holidays, to the school two miles away on a pleasant road paved with coral and lined with palms. We were received by the sisters, two German and one English, most kindly, and after a meal went to join the girls at their evening devotions. A chapter of Acts were read and a hymn sung, followed by a long prayer, all, of course, in Samoan. Then the hundred girls sang a song, composed by themselves after their manner, as a farewell to the English sister, although she is not going till next April. It was a very weird and to me fascinating performance. One or more altos kept the lead throughout, high above the rising and falling flood of page 63 almost bass voices, just as their ancestors sang before ever the white man came to their shores. It seemed to me, perhaps quite wrongly, as if the Christianity, Bible, and hymns, was all superficial, and that the deep savagery of their antecedents came out full and strong in their song. So at nine o'clock we left, and were driven home in the mission buggy.

Friday, 4th.—A sultry morning, followed by an afternoon of heavy rain. From the hotel verandah we look out upon the harbour, its narrow entrance between the coral reefs completely hidden in the mist. The Maori and one or two small yachts were the only vessels in the little port, and high up on a shore reef lay the ghastly wreck of the German war-boat, where she was lifted up and battered to ruin in the great hurricane of 1889. "There she lies high and dry," still as when Stevenson wrote "the hugest structure of man's hands within a circuit of a thousand miles—tossed up there like a schoolboy's cap upon a shelf; broken like an egg; a thing to dream of."

Such is the way of nations and of school boys, and passion ran high between the rival races, whose war- page 64 ships crowded the narrow and dangerous harbour. Its capacity is estimated at four large ships. When a falling barometer gave warning of the coming hurricane, it was full up with seven ships of war beside six merchantmen and a number of small craft; all should have escaped to the open sea, and all knew the terrible risks to which they exposed themselves by delay. But none was brave enough to set the example what would seem like running away, and they stayed on, "semi-belligerents, daring each other and the violence of heaven." Only the British ship "Calliope" escaped as by miracle when the storm was at its height and it was too late for the others already wrecked. From the doomed flag-ship Trenton as she slowly urged her way against wind and sea, the Americans hailed the success of the English with a cheer. "You went out splendidly," wrote the American Admiral afterwards to the English Captain, "and we all felt from our hearts for you, and our cheers came with sincerity and admiration for the able manner in which you handled your ship. We could not have been gladder if it had been one of our ships, for in time like that I can say truly with old Admiral Josiah Latnall, 'that blood is thicker than water.'" When the Calliope returned to the harbour two days later she found not a single ship afloat of all which had crowded it that terrible day. The Adler's iron skeleton remains as the only monument of what was in its issue a great event of history.

Spent the evening with Mr. Sibree and Mrs. Hawkins, wife of the missionary of Leone, Tutuila, page 65 who had come over here to consult the doctors about her little girl. All our talk was, of course, of Samoa and the Samoans and their queer superstitions, and their dread of "aitus," ghosts and spirits who take up their abode in trees and elsewhere, and have to be treated with all deference, or they will bring misfortune on the offender.

Saturday, 5th.—Drove out to Stevenson's house by the "Road of the Loving Heart," Ala Loto Alofa, made by some chiefs, whom he had befriended in prison, as a testimony of their gratitude and love. The house has been repaired and altered by a wealthy German who now lives there three months in the year. We looked up longingly to the summit above, where they laid the body of their beloved Tusitala, teller of tales, as they called him. But we did not dare to expose ourselves to the fatigue of the ascent in the hot sunshine, and had to be content with the view of forest and ocean upon which so often his eyes lingered in the few years of his summer exile.

Sunday, 6th.—At eight o'clock in the morning I attended the service at the Native Church. There were more men than women present, and the choir, which sat in the middle, dressed in brown cotton jackets and lava-lavas, consisted almost entirely of men. I was told that the music selected was of a quieter description and the tunes all English, because of its being Communion Sunday; but the tunes were translated into the musical fashion of Samoa, and to me were weird and unrecognisable, the strong alto solo soaring, ever dominant above the forty basses page 66 which swelled and fell and rose again as if seeking in vain to prevail. The native preacher was dressed in white, his lava-lava reaching to his bare feet, which were rough and broken, as if the skin were of coarse brown bark. He was very fluent, as they are all said to be, loving to speak on any occasion or excuse. For myself the minister prayed—so it was translated for me by Mr. Sibree, who sat by my side—"Bless thy servant who takes charge of thy work in another country and unites with us to-day. Different is his speech, yet one are our prayers and our praises. Different the section of thy Church to which he belongs, yet one is our faith and our Lord. Bless him here and when he leaves us." The text of the sermon was Hebrews, x. 29, "Of how much sorer punishment shall he be counted worthy who hath trodden underfoot the Son of God." The preacher, the island being now a German dependency and the people familar with the German National Anthem, showed what it would mean to trample underfoot the son of the Kaiser, did he come to visit them. "So," he said, "do those who refuse to hear the word of Jesus, who take the side of his foes. Here in Samoa are many who once knew and served him. Of what punishment shall they be worthy if they have turned against him? True, God is love. He does not wish to punish. He rejoices not in visiting sin with its penalty. But all sin brings with it its own penalty. Don't be proud if you are a pastor or a church member. Perhaps you are guilty of sin which will bear its fruit in time. So the ruin of Jerusalem was page 67 the reward of its sin, though Jerusalem was the Holy City. And we who come to the Communion Service to-day shall not be saved by Communion." These are a few hasty notes made for me during delivery. Prom an English pulpit such a sermon would be ordinary enough; preached as it was by a man whose grandfather was no doubt a heathen and perhaps a cannibal, his world the Samoan archipelago, to a full congregation of his own countrymen, it was remarkable enough. Of the old religion there is nothing left but some old superstitious beliefs and practices, such as survive I even in Europe after ages of Christian profession. All the people are nominally Christians, and I should say the greater number more really so than is the majority at home. It is considered the correct thing to belong to the Church and even to be a communicant, though none are admitted to Communion without giving satisfactory proof of the sincerity of their profession.

After another hymn and the benediction, some of the congregation, less than half, withdrew, and I gladly accepted the invitation to join in the sacred rite, which is the symbol of the common life of faith of all Christian people. Not a word of reading, hymn, or prayer could I follow, nor know whether I could assent or not. But here was a language we all understood, and as I ate of the one bread and drank of the one cup of the common drink, I felt myself indeed at one with these my dark brethren, and with all followers of Christ throughout the world. I think I had before objected to the service this novel page 68 experience would have reconciled me to it. We want something more universally understood, more sacred, more reliable than any language is, to express our consciousness of the deep underlying unity of the Spirit. Wine is not the ordinary drink of the people here, and is, indeed, unknown to the natives, dear, and not easily obtainable: moreover, it would be very undesirable to make them acquainted with its use, or lead them to look upon alcoholic drinks as desirable or permissible. So the milk of the cocoanut, with which they are familar from infancy, is used instead. It is to them the translation into their mode of life of "the fruit of the vine," which was the common drink of Palestine.

We had a drive in the afternoon into the country past the Mormon settlement, and then to the Observatory, remarking on the way the monuments to British, German, and American marines, who had been killed in the stupid quarrels of 1889.

At 8-30 p.m. sailed off in the dirty uncomfortable little Maori, with a lot of natives, half-castes, and Mormon whites. I was asked to take the service at the Mission Church for the white people, but dare not risk again being late for the boat. Passed a wretched night on deck, lying on the dirty floor or finding a seat where I could.

Monday, 7th.—Saw the sun rise behind the mountains of Tutuila, but did not get fastened to the buoy in the harbour of Pago-Pago till 11 o'clock, fifteen hours for a seventy mile voyage.

Tuesday, 8th.—The Oceanic Steamship Company's Boat Sonoma, the sister ship to the Sierra which brought us and left us here, arrived at six in the morning. We were on board by nine o'clock, determined that this time we would not be too late, but we did not leave till one, a full hour after the time adopted. So ended three weeks of novel, and not altogether unpleasant, experience.

C. H.