boys with axes and cut down a third, which was too near the
house, and buckling like a fishing rod. At dinner we had the
front door closed and shuttered, the back door open, the lamp
lit. The boys in the cook-house were all out at the cook-
house door, where we could see them looking in and smiling.
Lauilo and Faauma waited on us with smiles. The excitement
was delightful. Some very violent squalls came as we sat
there, and every one rejoiced; it was impossible to help it;
a soul of putty had to sing. All night it blew; the roof was
continually sounding under missiles; in the morning the
verandahs were half full of branches torn from the forest.
There was a last very wild squall about six; the rain, like a
thick white smoke, flying past the house in volleys, and as
swift, it seemed, as rifle balls; all with a strange,
strident hiss, such as I have only heard before at sea, and,
indeed, thought to be a marine phenomenon. Since then the
wind has been falling with a few squalls, mostly rain. But
our road is impassable for horses; we hear a schooner has
been wrecked and some native houses blown down in Apia, where
Belle is still and must remain a prisoner. Lucky I returned
while I could! But the great good is this; much bread-fruit
and bananas have been destroyed; if this be general through
the islands, famine will be imminent; and WHOEVER BLOWS THE
COALS, THERE CAN BE NO WAR. Do I then prefer a famine to a
war? you ask. Not always, but just now. I am sure the
natives do not want a war; I am sure a war would benefit no
one but the white officials, and I believe we can easily meet
the famine - or at least that it can be met. That would give
our officials a legitimate opportunity to cover their past
errors.