Old Samoan Days. 
W E lived right merrily down there in 
fair Samoa, four-and-twenty years ago, 
in the days when our hearts were young, and 
those of us who had dug our trenches before 
the City of Fortune took no heed of the 
watches of the night ; for, then, to us there 
was no night—only long, long happy days of 
mirth and jollity, and the sound of women’s 
voices from the shore, mingling with the chorus 
of the sailors, and the clink, clink, of the wind¬ 
lass pawls as the ships weighed anchor to sail 
for distant isles. And no one checked our 
youthful insolence of mirth ; for then there was 
no such thing known as the Berlin Treaty Act 
“ for the Better Government of Samoa,” with 
its comedy-tragedy of gorgeously bedizened 
Presidents, and Vice-Presidents, and Chief 
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