he reef and found to be marked
with menacing runes; a headless lizard crawled among chiefs in council;
the gods of Upolu and Savaii made war by night, they swam the straits to
battle, and, defaced by dreadful wounds, they had besieged the house of
a medical missionary. Readers will remember the portents in mediaeval
chronicles, or those in _Julius Caesar_ when

"Fierce fiery warriors fought upon the clouds
In ranks and squadrons."

And doubtless such fabrications are, in simple societies, a natural
expression of discontent; and those who forge, and even those who spread
them, work towards a conscious purpose.

Early in January 1891 this period of expectancy was brought to an end by
the arrival of Conrad Cedarcrantz, chief justice of Samoa. The event was
hailed with acclamation, and there was much about the new official to
increase the hopes already entertained. He was seen to be a man of
culture and ability; in public, of an excellent presence--in private, of
a most engaging cordiality. But there was one point, I scarce know
whether to say of his character or policy, which immediately and
disastrously affected public feeling in the islands. He had an aversion,
part judicial, part perhaps constitutional, to haste; and he announced
that, until he should have well satisfied his own mind, he should do
nothing; that he would rather delay all than do aught amiss. It was
impossible to hear this without academical approval; impossible to hear
it without practical alarm. The natives desired to see activity; they
desired to see many fair speeches taken on a body of deeds and works of
benefit. Fired by the event of the war, filled with impossible hopes,
they might have welcomed in that hour a ruler of the stamp of Brandeis,
breathing hurry, perhaps dealing blows. And the chief justice,
unconscious of the fleeting opportunity, ripened his opinions
deliberately in Mulinuu; and had been already the better part of half a
year in the islands before he went through the form of opening his
court. The curtain had risen; there was no play. A reaction, a chill
sense of disappointment, passed about the island; and intrigue, one
moment suspended, was resumed.

In the Berlin Act, the three Powers recognise, on the threshold, "the
independence of the Samoan government, and the free right of the natives
to elect their chief or king and choose their form of government." True,
the text continues that, "in view of the difficulties that sur