nment must perish by itself of inanition. Native taxes (except
perhaps from Mataafa, true to his own private policy) have long been
beyond hope. And only the other day (May 6th, 1892), on the expressed
ground that there was no guarantee as to how the funds would be expended,
and that the president consistently refused to allow the verification of
his cash balances, the municipal council has negatived the proposal to
call up further taxes from the whites. All is well that ends even ill,
so that it end; and we believe that with the last dollar we shall see the
last of the last functionary. Now when it is so nearly over, we can
afford to smile at this extraordinary passage, though we must still sigh
over the occasion lost.

* * * * *

_Malie_. The way to Malie lies round the shores of Faleula bay and
through a succession of pleasant groves and villages. The road, one of
the works of Brandeis, is now cut up by pig fences. Eight times you must
leap a barrier of cocoa posts; the take-off and the landing both in a
patch of mire planted with big stones, and the stones sometimes reddened
with the blood of horses that have gone before. To make these obstacles
more annoying, you have sometimes to wait while a black boar clambers
sedately over the so-called pig fence. Nothing can more thoroughly
depict the worst side of the Samoan character than these useless barriers
which deface their only road. It was one of the first orders issued by
the government of Mulinuu after the coming of the chief justice, to have
the passage cleared. It is the disgrace of Mataafa that the thing is not
yet done.

The village of Malie is the scene of prosperity and peace. In a very
good account of a visit there, published in the _Australasian_, the
writer describes it to be fortified; she must have been deceived by the
appearance of some pig walls on the shore. There is no fortification, no
parade of war. I understand that from one to five hundred fighting men
are always within reach; but I have never seen more than five together
under arms, and these were the king's guard of honour. A Sabbath quiet
broods over the well-weeded green, the picketed horses, the troops of
pigs, the round or oval native dwellings. Of these there are a
surprising number, very fine of their sort: yet more are in the building;
and in the midst a tall house of assembly, by far the greatest Samoan
structure now in these islands, stands about half finished and alr