" my wife says. "By and by,
that man he sleep, devil go sleep same place. By and by, that man plenty
sick. I no care. What for he take my pig?" Lafaele cares plenty; I don't
think he is the man, though he may be; but he knows him, and most likely
will eat some of that pig to-night. He will not eat with relish.

_Saturday, 27th._--It cleared up suddenly after dinner, and my wife and
I saddled up and off to Apia, whence we did not return till yesterday
morning. Christmas Day I wish you could have seen our party at table. H.
J. Moors at one end with my wife, I at the other with Mrs. M., between
us two native women, Carruthers the lawyer, Moors's two
shop-boys--Walters and A. M. the quadroon--and the guests of the
evening, Shirley Baker, the defamed and much-accused man of Tonga, and
his son, with the artificial joint to his arm--where the assassins shot
him in shooting at his father. Baker's appearance is not unlike John
Bull on a cartoon; he is highly interesting to speak to, as I had
expected; I found he and I had many common interests, and were engaged
in puzzling over many of the same difficulties. After dinner it was
quite pretty to see our Christmas party, it was so easily pleased and
prettily behaved. In the morning I should say I had been to lunch at the
German consulate, where I had as usual a very pleasant time. I shall
miss Dr. Stuebel[11] much when he leaves, and when Adams and Lafarge go
also, it will be a great blow. I am getting spoiled with all this good
society.

On Friday morning, I had to be at my house affairs before seven; and
they kept me in Apia till past ten, disputing, and consulting about
brick and stone and native and hydraulic lime, and cement and sand, and
all sorts of otiose details about the chimney--just what I fled from in
my father's office twenty years ago; I should have made a languid
engineer. Rode up with the carpenter. Ah, my wicked Jack! on Christmas
Eve, as I was taking the saddle bag off, he kicked at me, and fetched me
too, right on the shin. On Friday, being annoyed at the carpenter's
horse having a longer trot, he uttered a shrill cry and tried to bite
him! Alas, alas, these are like old days; my dear Jack is a Bogue,[12]
but I cannot strangle Jack into submission.

I have given up the big house for just now; we go ahead right away with
a small one, which should be ready in two months, and I suppose will
suffice for just now.

O I know I haven't told you about our _aitu_, ha