ed to. When his turn came in the kava
drinking--and you may be sure, in their contemptuous, affectionate
kindness for him, as for a good dog, it came rather earlier than it
ought--he was cried under a new name. _Aleki_ is what they make of his
own name Arrick; but instead of {the cup of / "le ipu a} Aleki!" it was
called "le ipu a _Vailima_," and it was explained that he had "taken his
chief-name"! a jest at which the plantation still laughs. Kava done, I
made a little speech, Henry translating. If I had been well, I should
have alluded to all, but I was scarce able to sit up; so only alluded to
my guest of all this month, the Tongan, Tomas, and to Simele, partly for
the jest of making him translate compliments to himself. The talking man
replied with many handsome compliments to me, in the usual flood of
Samoan fluent neatness; and we left them to an afternoon of singing and
dancing. Must stop now, as my right hand is very bad again. I am trying
to write with my left.

_Sunday._--About half-past eight last night, I had gone to my own room,
Fanny and Lloyd were in Fanny's, every one else in bed, only two boys on
the premises--the two little brown boys Mitaiele (Michael), age I
suppose 11 or 12, and the new steward, a Wallis islander, speaking no
English and about fifty words of Samoan, recently promoted from the bush
work, and a most good, anxious, timid lad of 15 or 16--looks like 17 or
18, of course--they grow fast here. In comes Mitaiele to Lloyd, and told
some rigmarole about Paatalise (the steward's name) wanting to go and
see his family in the bush.--"But he has no family in the bush," said
Lloyd. "No," said Mitaiele. They went to the boy's bed (they sleep in
the walled-in compartment of the verandah, once my dressing-room) and
called at once for me. He lay like one asleep, talking in drowsy tones
but without excitement, and at times "cheeping" like a frightened mouse;
he was quite cool to the touch, and his pulse not fast; his breathing
seemed wholly ventral; the bust still, the belly moving strongly.
Presently he got from his bed, and ran for the door, with his head down
not three feet from the floor and his body all on a stretch forward,
like a striking snake: I say "ran," but this strange movement was not
swift. Lloyd and I mastered him and got him back in bed. Soon there was
another and more desperate attempt to escape, in which Lloyd had his
ring broken. Then we bound him to the bed humanely with sheets, rope