and tore up the certificate and bunged the pieces on the floor. 

 “Aué!” [2] cried Uma, and began to clap her hands; but I caught one of them in mine. 

 “And the second thing that he would do,” said I, “if he was what I would call a man and you would call a man, Mr. Tarleton, is to bring the girl right before you or any other missionary, and to up and say: ‘I was wrong married to this wife of mine, but I think a heap of her, and now I want to be married to her right.’ Fire away, Mr. Tarleton. And I guess you’d better do it in native; it’ll please the old lady,” I said, giving her the proper name of a man’s wife upon the spot. 

 So we had in two of the crew for to witness, and were spliced in our own house; and the parson prayed a good bit, I must say—but not so long as some—and shook hands with the pair of us. 

 “Mr. Wiltshire,” he says, when he had made out the lines and packed off the witnesses, “I have to thank you for a very lively pleasure. I have rarely performed the marriage ceremony with more grateful emotions.” 

 That was what you would call talking. He was going on, besides, with more of it, and I was ready for as much taffy as he had in stock, for I felt good. But Uma had been taken up with something half through the marriage, and cut straight in. 

 “How your hand he get hurt?” she asked. 

 “You ask Case’s head, old lady,” says I. 

 She jumped with joy, and sang out. 

 “You haven’t made much of a Christian of this one,” says I to Mr. Tarleton. 

 “We didn’t think her one of our worst,” says he, “when she was at Fale-alii; and if Uma bears malice I shall be tempted to fancy she has good cause.” 

 “Well, there we are at service number two,” said I. “I want to tell you our yarn, and see if you can let a little daylight in.” 

 “Is it long?” he asked. 

 “Yes,” I cried; “it’s a goodish bit of a yarn!” 

 “Well, I’ll give you all the time I can spare,” says he, looking at his watch. “But I must tell you fairly, I haven’t eaten since five this morning, 

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