and ventilation, nothing beats
the thatch. The great drawback is, that in gales it stands up like a
field of corn, and then the rain pours into the house. That, however,
may be remedied by a network of cinnet, to keep down the thatch, or by
the native plan of covering all in with a layer of heavy cocoa-nut
leaves on the approach of a gale.

These great circular roofs are so constructed that they can be lifted
bodily off the posts, and removed anywhere, either by land, or by a
raft of canoes. But in removing a house, they generally divide the
roof into four parts--viz. the two sides, and the two ends, where
there are particular joints left by the carpenters, which can easily
be untied, and again fastened. There is not a single nail in the whole
building; all is made fast with cinnet. As Samoan houses often form
presents, fines, dowries, as well as articles of barter, they are
frequently removed from place to place. The arrangement of the houses
in a village has no regard whatever to order. You rarely see three
houses in a line. Every one puts his house on his little plot of
ground, just as the shade of the trees, the direction of the wind, the
height of the ground, etc., may suit his fancy.

A house, after the usual Samoan fashion just described, has but _one_
apartment. It is the common parlour, dining-room, etc., by day, and
the bedroom of the whole family by night. They do not, however,
altogether herd indiscriminately. If you peep into a Samoan house at
midnight, you will see five or six low oblong _tents_ pitched (or
rather strung up) here and there throughout the house. They are made
of native cloth, five feet high, and close all round down to the mat.
They shut out the mosquitoes, and enclose a place some eight feet by
five; and these said tent-looking places may be called the _bedrooms_
of the family. Four or five mats laid loosely, the one on the top of
the other, form the _bed_. The _pillow_ is a piece of thick bamboo,
three inches in diameter, three to five feet long, and raised three
inches from the mat by short wooden feet. The sick are indulged with
something softer, but the hard bamboo is the invariable pillow of
health. The _bedding_ in old times was complete with a single mat or
sheet of native cloth. In the morning the tent was unstrung, mats,
pillow, and sheet rolled together, and laid up overhead on a shelf
between the posts in the middle of the house.

These rolls of mats and bedding, a bundle or