White travellers, to their indescribable irritation, are (on his approach) waved from his path by his armed guards.

He summons his dancers by the note of a bugle.

He sits nightly at home before a semicircle of talking-men from many quarters of the islands, delivering and hearing those ornate and elegant orations in which the Samoan heart delights.

About himself and all his surroundings there breathes a striking sense of order, tranquillity, and native plenty.

He is of a tall and powerful person, sixty years of age, white-haired and with a white moustache; his eyes bright and quiet; his jaw perceptibly underhung, which gives him something of the expression of a benevolent mastiff; his manners dignified and a thought insinuating, with an air of a Catholic prelate.