case? etc.; and, I am bound to say, on any glimmer of a jest,
lapsing into native hilarity as a tree straightens itself after the wind
is by. The other night I remembered my old friend--I believe yours
also--Scholastikos, and administered the crow and the anchor--they were
quite fresh to Samoan ears (this implies a very early severance)--and I
thought the anchor would have made away with my Simele altogether.

Fanny's time, in this interval, has been largely occupied in contending
publicly with wild swine. We have a black sow; we call her Jack
Sheppard; impossible to confine her--impossible also for her to be
confined! To my sure knowledge she has been in an interesting condition
for longer than any other sow in story; else she had long died the
death; as soon as she is brought to bed, she shall count her days. I
suppose that sow has cost us in days' labour from thirty to fifty
dollars; as many as eight boys (at a dollar a day) have been twelve
hours in chase of her. Now it is supposed that Fanny has outwitted her;
she grins behind broad planks in what was once the cook-house. She is a
wild pig; far handsomer than any tame; and when she found the cook-house
was too much for her methods of evasion, she lay down on the floor and
refused food and drink for a whole Sunday. On Monday morning she
relapsed, and now eats and drinks like a little man. I am reminded of an
incident. Two Sundays ago, the sad word was brought that the sow was out
again; this time she had carried another in her flight. Moors and I and
Fanny were strolling up to the garden, and there by the waterside we saw
the black sow, looking guilty. It seemed to me beyond words; but Fanny's
_cri du coeur_ was delicious: "G-r-r!" she cried; "nobody loves you!"

I would I could tell you the moving story of our cart and cart-horses;
the latter are dapple-grey, about sixteen hands, and of enormous
substance; the former was a kind of red and green shandrydan with a
driving bench; plainly unfit to carry lumber or to face our road.
(Remember that the last third of my road, about a mile, is all made out
of a bridle-track by my boys--and my dollars.) It was supposed a white
man had been found--an ex-German artilleryman--to drive this last; he
proved incapable and drunken; the gallant Henry, who had never driven
before, and knew nothing about horses--except the rats and weeds that
flourish on the islands--volunteered; Moors accepted, proposing to
follow and supervise: des