It was he who did most damage to rival traders; it was he who most harried the Samoans; and yet I never met any one, white or native, who did not respect his memory.

All felt it was a gallant battle, and the man a great fighter; and now when he is dead, and the war seems to have gone against him, many can scarce remember, without a kind of regret, how much devotion and audacity have been spent in vain.

His name still lives in the songs of Samoa.

One, that I have heard, tells of _Misi Ueba_ and a biscuit-box--the suggesting incident being long since forgotten.

Another sings plaintively how all things, land and food and property, pass progressively, as by a law of nature, into the hands of _Misi Ueba_, and soon nothing will be left for Samoans.