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in the bits of newspaper that were wrapped around my bouquets which were brought to me from my own garden at Uluhaimalama.

These were generally wrapped in the newspapers, foreign and local, obtained from Mr. Whiting’s house, near my own; and I cannot resist adding that even in my imprisonment the humor of the thought occurred to me, that, if any person ever literally fulfilled the ancient proverb about “living in glass houses,” it was this so-called judge who had been called to pass sentence upon me. Some of the very wealthy under the monarchy had retreats in the suburbs of the town, somewhat answering to what Americans call “summer residences;” and these were called “glass houses,” because so open, or largely composed of glass. Under the oligarchy several in the government are not content with less than two such pleasure houses.

Flowers from home I unwrapped myself, so as to be sure to save these bits of news which I sought opportunity at intervals to read. There were times when I saw something of such interest that I could not resist the temptation to mention it to my companion, Mrs. Wilson. Then it seems she would faithfully report all that I said to her husband, whose custom it was to call every other day, sometimes at longer periods, for the purpose of ascertaining if there was anything required. At such times he would withdraw with his wife to the boudoir, where she would repeat to him what had been said by me, telling him also what had been received in the prison through her. By some things she occasionally mentioned he thought that newspapers had been