alone
for sublimity.

Now to try and tell you what has been happening. The state of these
islands, and of Mataafa and Laupepa (Malietoas _ambo_), had been much on
my mind. I went to the priests and sent a message to Mataafa, at a time
when it was supposed he was about to act. He did not act, delaying in
true native style, and I determined I should go to visit him. I have
been very good not to go sooner; to live within a few miles of a rebel
camp, to be a novelist, to have all my family forcing me to go, and to
refrain all these months, counts for virtue. But hearing that several
people had gone and the government done nothing to punish them, and
having an errand there which was enough to justify myself in my own
eyes, I half determined to go, and spoke of it with the half-caste
priest. And here (confound it) up came Laupepa and his guards to call on
me; we kept him to lunch, and the old gentleman was very good and
amiable. He asked me why I had not been to see him? I reminded him a law
had been made, and told him I was not a small boy to go and ask leave of
the consuls, and perhaps be refused. He told me to pay no attention to
the law but come when I would, and begged me to name a day to lunch. The
next day (I think it was) early in the morning, a man appeared; he had
metal buttons like a policeman--but he was none of our Apia force; he
was a rebel policeman, and had been all night coming round inland
through the forest from Malie. He brought a letter addressed

_I lana susuga_ To his Excellency
_Misi Mea_. Mr. Thingumbob.

(So as not to compromise me.) I can read Samoan now, though not speak
it. It was to ask me for last Wednesday. My difficulty was great; I had
no man here who was fit, or who would have cared, to write for me; and I
had to postpone the visit. So I gave up half-a-day with a groan, went
down to the priests, arranged for Monday week to go to Malie, and named
Thursday as my day to lunch with Laupepa. I was sharply ill on
Wednesday, mail day. But on Thursday I had to trail down and go through
the dreary business of a feast, in the King's wretched shanty, full in
view of the President's fine new house; it made my heart burn.

This gave me my chance to arrange a private interview with the king, and
I decided to ask Mr. Whitmee to be my interpreter. On Friday, being too
much exhausted to go down, I begged him to come up. He did. I told him
the heads of what I meant to say; and he not onl