At half-past six in the morning, we landed in Kau,—that is grandpa and I did; grandma went on in the steamer to Kealakekua Bay. Rev. Mr. Gulick met us as we stepped on shore. Horses were in waiting, and we were soon in the saddle ready for our seven miles' ride to Waiohinu. Mr. and Mrs. Gulick have here a boarding-school for native girls. They had nine pupils of various shades and sizes. Some of them seemed very bright and intelligent, and were quick and handy about their work. Beside their studies, they are beginning to learn to make their own clothes and to do housework.

Sabbath morning we visited the Sabbath-school. As we entered, the children were singing in Hawaiian the hymn, "I want to be an Angel," and soon after "I have a Father in the Promised Land," both of them to the familiar tunes the children sing with us. It quite carried me back in association to our home Sabbath-schools. The Hawaiians love to sing, and the children sing with all their hearts, just as our children do.

Grandpa gave them a short talk, and then we went into the church, and he addressed the native congregation,—an intelligent and well-dressed body of men and women. The Hawaiians as a race are excessively fond of flowers. Some of the girls wore wreaths of rosebuds round their necks; some had flowers in their hair, and others held a few in their hands. The judge of the district, who had a little daughter in Mr. Gulick's school, brought her a wand of roses, wreathed round a stick, which he handed to her with a smile as she came into church.

In the afternoon, grandpa preached to the foreign residents. Every white person but one in the district was present, making sixteen in all including ourselves. There were only four ladies, most of the men having native wives. The shoemaker, the blacksmith, the missionary, the planter, all met in that little parlor, to hear a sermon in their native tongue. It made no difference what was their religious belief; they came dressed in their best, and some of them joined in singing the hymns, the tunes doubtless familiar to them long ago, before they left their father's roof.

Monday morning we started on our journey across the island, to where grandma was staying. Our baggage was packed on a mule, and the saddle-bags filled with our eatables.

"What are saddle-bags?" asked Willie.

They are two bags fastened on a broad strip of leather, made to fit on the back part of a saddle, so arranged that a bag will hang on each side of the horse, the two thus balancing each other.

Mr. Gulick accompanied us, and quite a number of natives traveled a part of the way. We started in a rain; six or seven miles of the road were good; the rest was bad enough to make up for it. The first half-day we passed over that kind of lava called "a-a," the whole tract, as far as the eye could reach, looking as if a mountain of lava had been thrown thousands of feet in the air, and fallen, crumbled and broken, into irregular ridges and heaps, blackened and barren. In riding, we passed over an apology for a road, reminding me of our American roads when filled in with broken stone before being covered with the gravel. Some of the ridges were fearfully steep and jagged. Here it seemed as if—as a friend remarked—"we were out of sight of land." Hardly a bush or tree was to be seen. I never knew the meaning of desolation before. We grew weary of the dull black scene, and it rained and rained, but we kept on, up one steep place and down another. The last part of our day's ride was through woods, over hard lava, which they call "pahoihoi;" but it was along a mountain side, and the same steep ridges followed us. Darkness came just as we neared the native village where we were to spend the night. We had passed over a hard road of thirty-five miles, and been ten hours in the saddle. We were, of course, not sorry to dismount, which we did at the largest native house. The man of the house was down at the sea-shore; the family were of course not expecting foreigners. In the center of the house was a fire of glowing coals, and near it sat an old woman stringing candle-nuts upon a cocoa-nut fiber, which were their only lamps.

"What are candle-nuts?" asked the children.

They grow on a beautiful tree called "kukui," or candle-nut tree. The nuts are about the size of a walnut, and are so oily as to burn quite well.

Some one went over to the church, a simple thatched house like the rest, and brought us the only two chairs the village possessed. We set out our simple meal on the mat, and by twos and threes the natives dropped in to see us, bringing children and babies; so that by the time our supper was over, almost all the village were present to see the "houris" or foreigners. After we had finished, we had family worship, Mr. Gulick acting as interpreter. Then Mr. G. asked where we were to sleep. Our landlord and his wife had one corner of the room, another man and his wife another corner, our native men a third, and we the fourth. Learning that our shawls were wet, the son brought out a large bed tapa for our covering. Taking our bags for pillows, we lay down to rest,—sleep, I can not say, for fleas and cockroaches were too abundant to permit this.

"What is tapa, aunty?" asked Willie.

Tapa is their native cloth made from the bark of trees. They take the inner part of the bark, I believe, and beat it with mallets of very hard wood until it is soft and flexible, wetting the bark from time to time. It looks like a kind of paper, rather than cloth. These cloths the natives dye with various colors, in patterns to suit their own fancy. The bed tapas are from three to five large sheets placed one above another, and are very warm and comfortable.

Early next morning, we started on our journey through field and forest, and reached Mr. Paris's house about half-past two, having accomplished our journey of sixty miles in eighteen hours. We were cordially welcomed by the family, and were glad indeed to be with grandma again.

We walked one evening to the house near by, where Kapiolani and her husband Naihe lived. You remember Kapiolani was the brave princess I told you of. It was a stone house, built of solid coral rocks, the walls three feet thick, and is on an eminence commanding a fine view of the sea. No one was now living in the house; but quite a number of little kittens, wild as they could be, scampered in terror from room to room, as we went through the apartments.

Next morning, Mr. Paris took us out to ride. We visited a native church about two miles from his house, a pretty stone building, nicely finished off inside with koa wood, much resembling mahogany. The horse grandpa rode was a handsome black fellow; mine was a large sorrel called Bonaparte. Both horses had a decided aversion to going through puddles of water. Bonaparte had been broken in by a native, who hurt him about the head, after which, he had a great antipathy to natives; indeed, he had a dislike to any strangers. After a time, he got to know me; but if a native tried to touch him, he became almost frantic. He was a very easy horse for riding, and I became quite fond of him, and used to feed and give him water. One day we were all out riding, and as we came toward the house, I galloped into the yard and dismounted on the stone wall, which we used as a horse-block. They called to me that they were going on, so, as I had the bridle in my hand, I prepared to mount, when a good native deacon came forward to help me. The horse's nostrils dilated, and he plunged about almost drawing me off the wall, and was the perfect image of anger. I succeeded in making the good man understand that he must go away, then talked soothingly to the horse, patted his head gently, and finally, as he came near enough, threw myself into the saddle, and had a good ride. Now you see, children, what kindness can do. If I had ever been rough with the horse, or unkind to him, he would not have had such confidence in me, and I could not have soothed him down, and so should have lost my ride.



XII.

Kaawaloa.

My little flock of listeners were sure to get their work done punctually by four o'clock, thus fulfilling their part of the bargain, and used laughingly to talk about their travels, making believe that they were journeying, as I told them what I saw and had passed through.

* * * * *

On Saturday, April 4, Mr. Paris, grandpa, and I, started off on a long ride, to visit Hoonaunau, the city of refuge, a place to which people could flee, if they had committed any crime, or displeased any chief, and be protected by the priests. This was in old pagan times; they are not used for that purpose now.

"Aunty," asked Carrie, "didn't they have such cities in Old Testament times?"

Yes, dear, they did. You may get your Bible and turn to Numbers xxxv: vi. and read the passage to us.

"And among the cities which ye shall give unto the Levites, there shall be six cities for refuge, which ye shall appoint for the man-slayer, that he may flee thither."

It seems singular that this heathen people should have a custom like that sanctioned by God through Moses in the Old Testament days; but so it was. This city of refuge was a "heiau," or heathen temple. It has a massive stone wall varying from six to ten feet in hight, and as many feet in thickness, inclosing a large space of ground, and having, of course, no roof. The sea washes its base on one side. Here we saw a rock, under which Kaahumanu, the favorite wife of the great conqueror Kamehameha I., is said to have hid herself when her royal husband was angry with her. It is called by her name.

"Did the king have more than one wife?" asked Harry.

Yes, almost every chief had several, if he could afford it. But now that they are a Christianized people it is different.

We stood on the altar where human sacrifices had been offered. It was hard to believe that such a quiet place was ever used for so dreadful a purpose.

We saw a flat rock, on which one of the great chiefs was said to have rested while his subjects were fishing. The native story is, that the chief was so tall that his feet hung over one end, and his head the other. The stone was fourteen feet long!

"Aunty," said little Alice, "it wasn't a true story; was it?"

No, Alice; but probably he was a very tall man.

We passed over the battle-field of Kaei, the scene of the last great fight on Hawaii, which placed the island under the rule of Kamehameha II.

About half a mile beyond the City of Refuge is a high bluff, over which are solid lava falls, looking just like a waterfall, only black. They are hundreds of feet broad and more than a hundred feet high. You can walk between the bluff and the fall, and look up a hundred feet. We went into a cave, which is an eighth of a mile deep, leading to the sea. It probably was once a channel through which a lava stream flowed into the ocean.

Coming back we rode into the village of Kealakekua, and went to the spot where Captain Cook was worshiped, and had sacrifices offered to him. Just think how wicked it was in him to allow those poor ignorant natives to believe he was a god, and to receive offerings and sacrifices as such! It must have been very displeasing in the sight of God to have a man brought up in a Christian land do such a thing. It was only a little while after, across the bay in sight of that very place, that he lost his life. We saw two cocoa-nut trees with their trunks perforated by cannon-balls which were fired from Cook's ship.

The next day we attended the native church at Kealakekua, and saw their manner of collecting monthly concert money. One or two deacons, or "lunas" as they call them, sit at a table in front of the pulpit, and the people bring up their gifts. Three old men had no money, and brought, respectively, a broom, some dried fish, and two fowls. The fowls amused me very much. They had their feet tied together, and occasionally fluttered their wings and clucked during the sermon. One of the hens, I have since learned, was of Japanese breed. All her feathers curled up the wrong way, making her look as if she had been out in a gale of wind.

Monday we rode down to Kaawaloa, stood on the rock where Cook fell, gathered some coral where his boat rested, and walked over the stones where he led the king when endeavoring to take him as a hostage.

"What did they want him for?" asked Harry.

The natives had stolen a boat from Captain Cook, and the latter was taking their king to the ship to keep him there until the boat should be brought back. The natives could not bring the boat back, because they had already broken it up to get the iron in it; and they were not willing their king should be taken away. So one of the chiefs seized Cook roughly by the shoulder, and held him so painfully that he cried out. The people said, "Can a god groan? Is a god afraid?" Their belief that he was a god was broken, and he was immediately killed. We went into the king's house, which is still standing, and saw some beautiful matting lining the walls, taking the place of our house paper. It was woven in figures. We sat down on a board, and drank some young cocoa-nut milk from trees which existed in Captain Cook's time, and now shade the spot. Near the shore is a dead trunk of a tree about three feet high, on which several plates of copper, inscribed to the memory of Captain Cook, have been nailed by officers of British men-of-war. Not a very sumptuous monument this! On one side of the road, about half a mile above the beach, is a pillar of wood erected on a heap of rough lava. On this is a small plate, bearing this inscription:—

In Memory OF CAPTAIN JAMES COOK, R. N., WHO DISCOVERED THESE ISLANDS, IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 1778, THIS HUMBLE MONUMENT IS ERECTED BY HIS FELLOW COUNTRYMEN, IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 1825.

Captain Cook named the group of islands from his patron, the Earl of Sandwich. The natives always call them Hawaiian Islands, or as they say, "Hawaii Nei!"

This portion of Hawaii is the orange district, and we had delicious oranges every day. It seemed sometimes as if the fruit, after peeling, would drop to pieces in our hands, from very juiciness.

"Oh, how I wish I had some!" said Harry.

This is a bread-fruit country too. We didn't learn to love that fruit. We sometimes had it baked for dinner. I think it is never eaten uncooked. The tree is fine-looking; its leaves are large, and of a very brilliant green. The fruit is round, has a rough outside, and to me seemed rather mealy and tasteless.

"How large is it?" asked Carrie.

About the size of a cantelope-melon.

We tasted here, too, the root of the ti [te] plant. It was baked, and when sent in it was still hot. It looked like brown-bread, only finer grained, and when shaved off in slices had a very sweet and not unpleasant taste. Many of the natives are quite fond of it. The plant has a small trunk four or five feet high, surmounted with a tuft of leaves resembling corn-leaves. In various parts of the islands, when there is a scarcity of food, the natives eat the root of the fern-tree, baked. It reminded me in appearance of tobacco, was tasteless, and uninviting in its looks; but I saw native men cut off great slices of it, which they ate as if they liked it. But as I told you before, their favorite food is poi, and, with a good supply of that and raw fish, a native is as happy as a plenty of good food can make him.

We saw here for the first time enormous cockroaches. They came out after a rain, and were very annoying, as all large bugs are that can fly or run fast. One night I killed seven in my room. If I left one dead on the floor overnight, in the morning it would be surrounded by hundreds of small brown ants. It was really very interesting to watch the little creatures. They would saw off a leg, or a part of one, then several of them would drag it away to their hiding-place; and, piecemeal, they would, if given time, carry off the cockroach, leaving not a particle. Now there is a lesson for you, children.

Perhaps you have something to do. It may seem like a mountain, as you look at it; but if you work diligently, doing perhaps only a little at a time, it will grow less and less until it is all done; and as you look back upon it, you will be astonished to think how easily you have done it.



XIII.

Kailua.

"Aunty," said Carrie, as I came into the room, at four o'clock the next day, "we have been calling ourselves little ants all day to-day, we have been so busy; but now we have finished our work, and are all ready." So I resumed my story.

* * * * *

On Saturday, April 11, we left Kaawaloa, after a very pleasant visit of two weeks, starting about nine o'clock on our twelve miles' ride to Kailua. Mr. Paris's family and grandma were in a carriage, which some friends had given Mrs. P., and grandpa and I were on horseback. I had my horse Bonaparte. The road was good most of the way; no carriage had ever traveled the whole length of it before. Part of the way was down the mountain, and when about half-way to the foot, a part of the carriage broke. We all dismounted and took a lunch, then, with some leather, Mr. Paris bound up the broken place firmly, and we went on our way rejoicing that no worse thing had befallen us; for we were far away from any house, and had still half of our journey to perform, and this being the only carriage on that part of the island, no native knew how to repair it. On reaching the sea-shore, we passed through a grove of cocoa-nut trees. Here we drank some delicious cocoa-nut milk, and quite a group of natives gathered about us, and shook hands. The Hawaiians as a race are very fond of shaking hands. As the shake of the hand, saying "aloha," love to you, was often our only mode of expressing our interest, we were very particular to do it.



After leaving the grove, the path lay between two stone walls, so near together that it seemed impossible for the carriage to go through. Our native friends said among themselves "pilikia!" trouble; for there was no other road for the carriage. But the carriage did pass, the wheels just grazing the stones. How glad we were, and the natives exclaimed, "maikai!" good.

We saw a great deal of rough hard lava, called "pahoihoi," and prickly pear-trees grew in abundance. They were large, ugly plants. Grandma gave me one of their flowers which looks like a cactus-blossom. I had on a heavy buckskin glove, and this was filled with small barbed thorns, which, before I knew it, had worked through into my hand, as I held the rein. They caused no little pain, but were so small and colorless that you could not see them. In some places the people use the prickly pear as hedges, which are unsightly but very strong. We often saw the century-plant while on the islands, which, it has been said, blooms only once in one hundred years; but in fact it blossoms at least once in twenty-five years. The stalk of the flower grows very rapidly. Some of these stalks are twenty or thirty feet high. I examined one which seemed to be casting its blossoms; they looked like small bulbs just sprouting. If these are planted, they will grow, and this is the way the plant is propagated.

We were amused at the excitement of many of the natives about the carriage. A great number of them had never seen one before. Whole families turned out, men, women, and children, just as people in our own land once did to see a railroad car, or as they do now to see a caravan with elephants and camels. Horses and mules all along the road became unmanageable. They would turn and look, with dilated nostrils and head erect, while trembling in every limb, till the carriage almost reached them, then they would break from their fastenings and gallop off, neighing with fear. Then they would turn and look till we nearly reached them again, when they darted away as before.

We reached the house of Mr. Thurston, at Kailua, about three o'clock in the afternoon. It had a very desolate look, for it had been locked up for a year. The venerable missionaries were then in California, on account of the failure of Mr. T.'s health. There was no white face to greet us, as at the other mission-stations, so we made ourselves as comfortable as possible. Several natives called to see us, and a venerable deacon sent us two fowls, some very fine watermelons, and sweet potatoes. The melons were delicious, the soil of this part of the islands being well adapted to them. Watermelons are even sent to the San Francisco market.

The next day was Sabbath, the 12th of April, the forty-third anniversary of the missionaries first landing on these islands, which occurred on this very spot. We were interested in the fact that we should happen to be there at that time.

We went to the stone church, a venerable edifice built in the old style,—the pulpit and galleries being very high. Perhaps a thousand natives were present, and they paid remarkable attention to all that was said. After service, we shook hands with a large portion of the audience. Most of the people came on horseback, and there must have been as many as five hundred horses tied outside the church.

It was too far for us to go home before the afternoon service; so we spent the time in visiting the graves of mission families near the church. In the afternoon we partook of the communion with the congregation. Every thing was conducted with great propriety. A native evangelist has had the care of this church since Mr. T. left, and they have well sustained their church and prayer-meetings, with very little outside aid from missionaries.

We expected the steamer to call for us at any time after midnight, and so slept with one eye and one ear open. About twenty asses were in a pasture near us, and were braying all night long. We had little refreshing sleep, and were glad to see the smoke of the Kilauea as she came round a point in the distance at six o'clock in the morning. We wended our way to the beach, and amused ourselves by watching little native children playing in the water, and by picking up shells, until the boat came to take us on board the steamer, when we bade our friends good-by. As there was no wharf, a native took us up one by one and carried us to the boat. It seemed so funny at first for us grown people to be taken up like children; but we got accustomed to it, the men lifting us easily, and placing us in the boat as dry and comfortable as possible. By three o'clock in the afternoon we were off Honoipu, where we were to disembark. This is the landing for Kohala. Mr. Bond met us, and a kind German was there with his wagon to take grandma and the baggage to Mr. B.'s house. The rest of us went on horseback. Before grandpa mounted his horse, the natives gathered about him, and asked by an interpreter how old he was. They said, "his face and his form was young, but his hair was old." They expected to see an old decrepit man, and were quite surprised to find him so fresh and vigorous. We started on a brisk canter over a good road. My horse was unfortunate in his disposition, and would sometimes run across the road to kick another.

"Why, aunty, what did he do that for?" asked Harry.

Perhaps he had the same feeling that a little boy has, when he races with another boy. The latter runs a little faster perhaps, and the boy that is behind tries to hinder or tease him in some way, so that he may lose the race. I suppose my horse didn't want the other to pass him, and so tried to kick him.

The trade-wind swept across that part of the island with great force. It really seemed as if we would be blown off our horses, and I was glad that my hat-strings were sewed on tightly. After a while, a sudden shower came up, lasting about five minutes; but the wind soon dried us. Another and heavier one making its appearance in the distance, we turned off the road to go a shorter way. Mr. Bond was mounted on a large white mule; as we were galloping hastily along over the grassy field, his mule stumbled, and over they went. All we could see was the mule's four feet in the air. Fortunately, Mr. Bond was not under the animal, as we feared, but rose from the soft grass a few feet ahead uninjured. The shower came steadily on, and we were obliged to take refuge in a native hut. The natives ran out, took off our saddles, and tied our horses for us, so that we might escape the shower. They were always ready to do a kind act for us. As I sat in the hut with two women and a pretty little native girl about three years old, I longed to be able to talk with them in their own language; but after each of us had said "aloha," we could only sit and look at each other.

Grandma and Mrs. Bond with her children were waiting on the piazza to meet us as we rode up. But there is the tea-bell, so we must wait until to-morrow to hear about Kohala.



XIV.

Kohala and Waimea.

"We are ready to hear about that queer-named place now, aunty," said Alice at my elbow as I sat writing in my room.

Oh, yes, about Kohala.

* * * * *

Every thing at Mr. Bond's was the pink of neatness, and though we were shut in by rain for five days, we enjoyed it. Sometimes, it would look like clearing up, and we would walk in the garden; but usually we had to hurry in to escape the rain.

The garden looked beautifully, with some rose-bushes twenty-five feet in circumference, and scarlet geraniums perhaps fifteen feet. It does one good just to look at them, after seeing only our little dwarf shrubs at home. Kanoa and his wife, the good Hawaiian missionaries to Micronesia, came with their little baby to bid us good-by.

We had mangoes for the first time at Mr. Bond's, which were delicious. In shape they are like a pear, only flatter, with the large end growing next the stem. I can not describe the taste, it is unlike any thing we have. The seed is very large, being nearly two thirds the size of the fruit. Fresh figs, too, we tried for the first time, and to our surprise liked them. We had some papaias, which grow on trees; the fruit tastes like a musk-melon, and pies made of them are very much like squash-pies.

Sabbath morning it cleared up about eleven, so that we could go to church. Notwithstanding the weather, a goodly congregation assembled, and listened to grandpa with great respect and attention. After meeting, as usual, they all wanted to shake hands with us. As I was going down the aisle, thinking I had shaken hands with all, I heard some one call "keika mahine, keika mahine" [daughter, daughter], and looking round, there was an old man standing up on a seat with his hand stretched out to shake hands. Of course I must gratify him. Fortunately for us, Monday, April 20, was a pleasant day, and we started about nine o'clock for Waimea across the mountain. Grandma rode about twelve miles in Mr. Christianson's wagon, and then as the wagon-road ended, she went the remainder of the way on horseback. The rest of us were in the saddle all the way. How the wind did blow! It seemed as if I should be carried out of my saddle bodily; but we rode on over fields and barren wastes, and through steep and rocky gulches. At noon we reached the house of a foreigner, and were hospitably entertained. Mr. Lyons was waiting for us there, and Mr. Bond left us. What was more to us than dinner, was a feast of home letters, which Mr. Lyons had brought for us. After resting an hour or more, we were all in our saddles again. As we were riding, on the summit of a hill, or mountain as we should call it, a beautiful scene opened before us. High above us the fleecy clouds parted, and we caught a glimpse of what seemed like "the promised land." There stood the peak of a lofty mountain covered with newly-fallen snow, shining white and beautiful in the sun's clear beams. It seemed too high up, too pure and fair in its framework of clouds, to belong to earth. This was the summit of Mauna Kea, and we shall not soon forget that vision of beauty. It seemed as if angels might flit over its snowy sides without any danger of soiling their pure white garments. We arrived at Mr. Lyons's about five, and were cordially met by Mrs. L. and her daughter.

On Wednesday, we attended a meeting at Mr. Lyons's church. The house was filled with nicely-dressed natives. Grandpa and Mr. L. sat in front of the pulpit. At the back of the church was a large choir of men and women, who sung well and with animation, beating time with their hands.

Soon after we entered, they sung an original hymn by a native named Lyana, which the choir sung to the tune of "Hendon."

"Nani ke aloha la! Me ka olioli pu I ka malihini hou— E aloha, aloha oe.

"Holo oia a maanei, Mai Amerika mai no, Eia no! ua komo mai— E aloha, aloha oe.

"A, ma keia la maikai, Hui aloha pu kakou, Ma ka Luakini nei; E aloha, aloha oe.

"E hauoli, oli pu, E na hoahanau a pau, Kane, wahine, keiki no, E aloha, aloha oe.

"Na ia nei i hoouna mai I na misioneri nei, E ao mai ia kakou nei; E aloha, aloha oe.

"E ala, oli kakou pu, A kokua aloha no Ka makua o kakou;— E aloha, aloha mau."

Mr. Bingham, one of the first missionaries to the islands, has given us this translation:

"Wonderful that love sincere! Great our joint rejoicings here, For the stranger guest we see; Cordial welcome, friend, to thee.

"Sailing far to reach our homes, From America he comes; Lo! in peace he enters here; Welcome to our hearts sincere.

"Now on this delightful day, We, in love, unite to pray: Here beneath our temple spire, We our welcome give thee, sire.

"Jointly chanting, now rejoice; Brethren, all unite your voice; Husbands, wives, and little ones, Greet this friend with grateful tones.

"This is he who hither sends These true missionary friends, To enlighten our dark mind; Thanks and love to one so kind.

"Let us then all rise and sing, And our grateful succor bring; For our sire our love to prove,— Love, good-will, unceasing love."

Grandpa then made an address, and told them about the missions in Western Asia. Then Kanoa, the missionary to Micronesia, made a prayer; after which, he and his wife sung a Micronesian hymn. Grandpa told them, in another short address, about the India missions. Mr. Lyons then arose and spoke about his own mission, and introduced his senior deacon, Timotao Nalanipo, who made a speech in Hawaiian. Mr. Lyons translated it, and I will read you the translation.

"The church-members of the highlands of Waimea, the old men, the aged women, the strong men, the youth and children tender, through me, their salutation to you, the secretary, your companion, and daughter. Great, indeed, is our joy in being permitted to see you, to welcome you to our land. You have been sent by the learned Missionary Society of great America, as its delegate, to see the works of the gospel heralds you have sent to us.

"We, the ancient men of Kamehameha's time, were once idolaters, murderers, guilty of infanticide, polygamy, and constantly quarreling one with another. On the death of Kamehameha, the kingdom devolved on his son Liholiho. He abolished idolatry, broke the tabus; men and women for the first time ate together, and the temples and gods were burned to ashes.

"Still we lived on in poverty and darkness, and in secret worship of idols, and were without the knowledge of the living and true God. Men, women, and children were promiscuously devoted to the most sordid pleasures, heathenish dances, and revelries, day and night. In the year 1820, the missionaries, Mr. Bingham and company, came to these islands to proclaim the blessed gospel to us, who knew not God, nor had heard of the death of Jesus, the Messiah, the Saviour of the world. It was you, the Missionary Society you represent, that loved us, and sent the good missionaries to our dark land.

"The king and his premier allowed the missionaries to dwell with us to introduce a new order of things; to teach us first the twelve letters of the alphabet, then spelling, then reading and writing.

"During the forty-three years the missionaries have resided on the islands, much seed has been sown, much labor performed, and wonderful have been the results. We were once all dark, buried in darkness, sunk to the lowest depths of ignorance, roaming about the fields and woods, like wild beasts, without clothing, our naked bodies most shamefully exposed and blackened by the sun, without books, without Bibles, without Christianity, plunging into the darkness of hell. Now we are clothed, like civilized beings; we are Christianized; we are gathered into churches; we are intelligent; we are supplied with books, Bibles and hymn-books; and are living for God and for heaven; and this through the labors of the missionaries you have sent us.

"Our joy is inexpressible in seeing you; and we beg you to carry back to your associates, to the Missionary Society, to all the American churches connected with it, the warmest salutations of the churches of Waimea and Hamakua."

This good old man has since died, and gone, doubtless, to be with his Lord whom he so long loved and served.

At the close of the Hawaiian address, another original native hymn was sung, composed by Samuela, and sung to the tune of "Farewell, farewell is a lonely sound."

"Auwe; auwe; aloha la Ka malihini hou Ma keia la hauoli nei Ua hui pu kakou.

"Auwe; auwe; aloha la Ka malihini hou A eia la ua komo mai Ka luakini nei.

"Auwe; auwe; aloha la Ka malihini hou A na ia nei i hoouna mai Na misionari nei.

"Auwe; auwe; aloha la Ka ekalesia nei Kane, wahine, kamalii Kokua pu kakou.

"Auwe; auwe; aloha la Ka makua a kakou Aloha a mahalo pu Ka malihini hou."

Mr. Lyons translated it for us:—

"Oh! oh! we'll welcome you, sire, The stranger we now greet. This is a gladsome day, sire; For we together meet.

"Oh! oh! we'll welcome you, sire, The stranger of whom we've heard; Lo! now with us you enter here, This temple of the Lord.

"Oh! oh! we'll welcome you, sire, The stranger to our land; 'Twas you who loved and sent to us The missionary band.

"Oh! oh! we'll welcome you, sire, Say all the brethren here, Men, women, and the children, sire, Unite in love sincere.

"Oh! oh! we'll welcome you, sire, Our father and our friend; Our best respects and wishes has This stranger to our land."

After this was sung, we shook hands with nearly all in the church. Many, to our embarrassment, brought little tokens of good-will in money, amounting in all to ten dollars. With this we bought Hawaiian Bibles to be distributed among the people. Imagine a man, coming up to shake hands, but stopping before he did it diving his hand into the pocket of his pantaloons, taking out a quarter of a dollar and laying it on the table, then shaking hands as if he had paid for it! They have, however, none of that feeling.

The tea-bell! the tea-bell!



XV.

Maui.

Four o'clock came, and with it my little folks, all ready for a story. So I commenced.

* * * * *

We left Waimea on the morning of April 23, and rode on horseback to Kowaihae, a distance of twelve miles; there we were to take the steamer Kilauea.

On our way down to the shore we visited a heiau [hay-ow], or heathen temple. It was built by Kamehameha I. at the time he was going over to conquer Maui [Mow-e]. This was the last temple built on Hawaii. All the inhabitants of the island, men and women, were commanded to come and help build it, and none dared to stay away. It is about two hundred feet square, twenty-five feet high, and as many feet thick, of solid stone, just like a massive wall. Within we saw where the sacrifices were laid overnight, and the pit where they were thrown in the morning,—a place called by the natives hell.

"What were their sacrifices, aunty?" asked Willie.

Human beings,—generally lame or maimed persons. Before Kamehameha I. left for the conquest of Maui, thirteen human sacrifices are said to have been offered on this altar to insure him success.

After being hospitably entertained by a son of Judge Allen at Kowaihae, we went on board the steamer about eight o'clock in the evening, and soon Hawaii was left behind in the darkness. We had finished our tour of that island, and saw it no more.

We had a rough night, and did not arrive at Kalepolepo, Maui, until twelve o'clock. We went on shore in a high wind, and landed in a storm of sand.

"A storm of sand, aunty! What do you mean?" asked Carrie.

Just what I say,—a storm of sand. The wind was so strong that the very sand was blown up in our faces with such force as to make the skin tingle.

Mr. Alexander met us, and we started in this same storm and high wind for Wailuku, ten miles distant, where he resides. Even the gentlemen had veils over their faces, and hats tied on with handkerchiefs. The air was so thick with sand that we could hardly see, but we pushed bravely on. We were all on horseback, our baggage coming on more slowly in an ox-cart.

We had just got within sight of Mr. Alexander's house, having only a ride of perhaps ten minutes before us, when, to our dismay, there came a deluge of rain. My veil in a moment became like ground glass, the water making it impossible for me to see through it. Of course I could not guide my horse, but he followed the rest of the company; and glad indeed were we to change our soaked garments for others kindly furnished by the mission family, and thankful that our baggage did not arrive until after the shower was over, so that it escaped getting wet.

The next day we had a visit from many native men and women, who brought their gifts of eggs, onions, cabbages, fowls, and melons. They all seemed so genuinely happy to see us that it was a pleasure to meet them.

On the Sabbath we attended church all day, with a well-dressed and decorous congregation of Hawaiians. They had a melodeon and a very good choir. Mr. Alexander told us that six of the choir could play on the instrument, and they all take turns, one playing in the morning, another in the afternoon. They hired a teacher to come over from Lahaina once or twice a week. This they planned entirely among themselves, I believe.

Monday morning we made up a party to go into Iao [E-ah-o] valley. We were all on horseback,—nine of us,—and a happy company we were. The valley was so narrow that we crossed a swollen and rapid mountain stream five times. The ascent the last part of the way, before reaching the plateau, was very steep. But oh, what a magnificent valley we were in! It was about three miles long, and from one to two broad, while all around us, excepting the side we entered, were precipices from four to six or seven thousand feet high, in many instances perpendicular. It was a grand sight, to be remembered for a lifetime.

We dismounted from our horses, and the younger portion of the company rambled in the woods in search of tree-shells.

"Tree-shells! What are they, aunty?" asked Harry.

They are snail-shells. I think I was told that over a hundred varieties are found on the islands, every valley and each hundred feet of elevation having a different species. We used to notice the kind of tree that seemed to have the most, and then searched for that tree. They prefer the under sides of the leaves; so we would peer up in the branches, and when we found one, would pick it off and drop it in our pocket-handkerchief. After we were tired of "shelling," we came back to where our elders were quietly chatting, and had a nice picnic lunch, sitting on the grass, with fern-leaves for plates. What a sight was before our eyes!—these majestic works of God rising thousands of feet above us, apparently resting in clouds!

Towards the entrance of the valley is a very peculiar peak, called "The Needle," from its being so sharp and pointed. I wanted very much to sketch it, but started off without my materials; however grandpa had a note-book and pencil, and I knew that he would be willing to give me a leaf; but while we were off shelling, he left the valley and went back to Wailuku with Mr. Alexander, they having no time for picnicking; so what was I to do? Some of the lunch had been wrapped in white paper, which I smoothed out, and relied on some of the party for a pencil. When we got opposite "The Needle," I stopped my horse, and prepared myself for sketching, but not a pencil could be found among all the party. What do you think I did? I took a pin, and pricked the outline, and places where the heavy shading was to be, and after I got home drew the picture. This "Needle" has an historical interest. You remember I told you that the heathen temple near Kowaihae was built by Kamehameha I. before he left for the conquest of Maui. It was in this Iao valley that the people of Maui met the king's forces. A band of warriors with their families took refuge on this "Needle," which is accessible at such places only as could be easily defended against a large number. The enemy tried to starve them out, but failed. They then made believe they had left the valley, but at night hid themselves on the banks of the mountain stream where the warriors would go down to drink. As these poor deluded people came to quench their thirst, they murdered them all, men, women, and children. The stream flowed red with blood for two hours. That was heathen warfare, cruel and bloodthirsty, and this was the last battle fought on Maui; for the island became subject to the rule of Kamehameha I.



At six o'clock Wednesday morning, we started on horseback for Maanea's Landing, seven miles off, on the opposite side of the bay from Kalepolepo, expecting to take a whale-boat to Lahaina; but no whale-boat was there, so we had to return, bag and baggage, to Mr. Alexander's. We rode back the distance of seven miles in an hour, which we thought was doing very well, as grandma kept her place in the cavalcade all the way.

We passed over miles of land desolated by a waterspout which broke on the mountains, rolling down a flood of water with vast quantities of earth and stone into the valley below.

"What is a waterspout?"

It is a sort of whirlwind at sea; a body of water is caught up by the wind, sometimes joining the cloud above it, and rolling on until it meets with some obstacle, when it breaks, and washes away houses and trees, or anything movable. It will sink a ship if it strikes it.

The next morning we went down again to the shore, and were more successful, for the boat was there waiting for us. As the wind was fair, the boat-boys raised their sail, and we danced over the waves swiftly and merrily. After an hour's easy sailing, the wind left us, and our men took their oars for a two hours' rowing to Lahaina. For a part of the time we passed through shallow water over a coral reef, where we could look down upon forests of coral, shaped like branches of trees, white, or tinged slightly with red or green. It was a beautiful sight, and I longed to get some to bring home. We came safely through the surf. Lahaina looks beautifully as you approach it from the sea. It has some very pretty houses, and they seem to be embowered by cocoa-nut and other trees, so that the whole scene is more tropical in its appearance than any other place on the islands. We landed at the same spot where we had done six weeks before, and found our friends all ready to greet us, having seen our boat approaching. Our three hours' sail had been a very pleasant one, and the only sail we had had in a whale-boat.

After dinner, without stopping to rest, we mounted our horses, and sped up the hill to Lahainaluna, a distance of two miles, over a hot, dusty road, to attend the examination of the native seminary or college there. Most of the services were conducted in an unknown tongue, but the answers were prompt, and seemed to be in most instances satisfactory. After sitting and hearing recitations for about three hours, we left, and visited some of the rooms of the students. They looked very neat and clean, many of them having gay patchwork quilts on their beds, and quite a number of them had our illustrated newspapers pinned on the wall, with their favorite general occupying a conspicuous place.

The first of May was commencement day. The exercises were held in the church at Lahaina. We went down about nine. The alumni walked in a procession to the church, and were a fine-looking, intelligent set of men. The addresses were very creditable. The audience were attentive and quiet, and were well-dressed. The singing was very good,—Hawaiian words set to some of our familiar college tunes, which were sung with a great deal of spirit.

After the exercises in the church, the alumni had a dinner in the yard of the church, under a grove of cocoa-nut trees. The foreign guests were honored with a table by themselves, and were served by students. At the end of the table was a pig roasted whole, stuffed with greens, baked with hot stones in one of their ovens in the ground. This dish they call "luau" [lu-ow]. Besides whole pig, they had other pork, veal, poi, bread, cake, and cocoa-nut water. The whole dinner was well-served, and the white guests showed their appreciation of the good things by making a hearty dinner.

But we must wait for our ride in Lahaina until to-morrow.



XVI.

Lahaina—Kauai.

"Come, aunty," called Alice, "we want to take our ride in Lahaina."

* * * * *

We started soon after the alumni dinner, and rode down towards the beach, where we saw the American consul's residence, a cozy, thatched house, then turned off upon a road leading to the hospital. Here is the finest grove of cocoa-nut trees to be seen anywhere on the group of islands. Soon after the arrival of the missionaries, they perceived that no one planted cocoa-nuts, and that there was danger of the trees dying out. A missionary was talking to a high chief woman, and said to her, "Why don't you plant cocoa-nuts, so that trees may grow?" "Oh! I shall never live to eat them," she carelessly remarked. "True," said the missionary, "you may not live to eat them, but your children may live and enjoy the fruit."

She thought a few moments; a new idea seemed to have entered that mind just coming out from the darkness of heathenism into the light of Christianity. She had been accustomed only to think of herself, and what she might enjoy. It had never occurred to her that she could do anything for those who came after her until now, and she said, "It shall be done;" and within twenty-four hours, a schooner was sent off, which brought a load of cocoa-nuts, and these were planted where now is that beautiful cocoa-nut grove.

On returning from this grove, we passed by fields of sugar-cane, and visited Mr. Spencer's sugar-mill. It was a sweet place, and sticky too! They have a mill turned by twelve or fourteen mules in spans, which grinds the cane and presses out the juice. Then there are several vats in a row, with fires under them, where the juice is boiled. The sugar is clarified by lime-water; it is then put into round sieves which turn with great rapidity, and through which the syrup is pressed, leaving a clean-looking, dry, brown sugar. That is the process as near as I remember it. They make barrels in the same building, so that the sugar leaves the mill all ready for exporting.

Lahaina is a very dusty place, the earth is red and sticky. If we stayed there long, it seemed as if not only our clothes, but we ourselves, must become copper-colored.

On the Sabbath, May 3, a large assembly met at the church, and grandpa addressed them. They listened as usual with great attention, and after the service was over, they all flocked about him, wishing to shake hands. The communion service was in the afternoon, and all the ministers present took part. It was an interesting service, natives and foreigners sitting together around their Lord's table. Several friends in the mission coming together in the evening, at Dr. Baldwin's house, we sung hymns for an hour to our dear home tunes. It recalled to some of us our own loved America and the family circle where in years gone by we had sung with these friends the same tunes.

On Monday we attended an exhibition of Mr. Dwight Baldwin's native school. It was very interesting. The dialogues were exciting, even though in an unknown tongue and spoken by little boys; for they acted them out thoroughly, seeming to forget the spectators entirely. The singing was spirited and in good time. There was none of that painful shyness and hesitation which we sometimes see in our American schools, and we greatly enjoyed the scene.

Tuesday being our last day in Lahaina, a great many natives came to see us, bringing little love-tokens,—one or two shells such as they wear for bracelets, or a pretty wreath of yellow feathers such as are worn for a necklace. At seven in the evening, attended by quite a cavalcade of natives and other friends, we went on board the steamer Kilauea, and soon had our last view of Maui, as we slowly steamed away, and the darkness came on.

We entered the port of Honolulu at about ten the next morning, having been absent on our tour of the islands of Hawaii and Maui fifty-eight days. Our welcome from the friends in Honolulu was very hearty. The calls upon us commenced as soon as we reached Mr. Clark's, and each day we dined or took tea or lunched with some one of the mission families.

Saturday morning, May 9, was spent in calling on the old Governor Kekuanaoa, and his daughter, the Princess Victoria, the father and sister of the present and late kings. They live in a very pretty-looking house, with a garden attached to it. The governor has a grapery, and presented us with some fine bunches of grapes. There were some very long canoes being made on his premises, consisting each of the trunk of a tree, scooped out and prettily finished.

Monday afternoon we went on board the little steam-schooner, Annie Laurie, bound for the island of Kauai [Kow-i]. Hon. R. C. Wyllie was on board, and a band of music accompanied us for a short distance. Music is music the world over, but this was the only brass band on the islands.

One of the gentlemen on board was asked, the next morning, how he felt, and replied, "I feel as if I had swallowed a kitten and a mouse, and the kitten was after the mouse!"—the best description I have ever heard of sea-sickness.

We arrived at Hanalei, Kauai, about twelve on Tuesday, and were met on the beach by the missionaries, Messrs. Johnson and Wilcox, who escorted us on horseback to the house of the former gentleman. The next morning we breakfasted at Mr. Wilcox's, then at twelve had a meeting in the church, where a goodly number of natives were assembled; among them Kanoa, the governor of Kauai, who afterwards dined with us.

At three o'clock, Mr. Wyllie sent down a boat for our party, to take us to his estate, called Princeville. It was a delightful row up the river, the foliage on either bank was the richest and most luxuriant we had seen. There was hardly a ripple on the water, and no sound was to be heard but the gentle dip of the oars.

First, we visited the sugar-mill, which is the finest and most expensive on the islands. There we witnessed the whole process, from the grinding of the cane to the grained sugar. After that we went up to the agent's house, and were cordially welcomed by his family, and shown over the beautiful garden surrounding the house. There was a hedge of lovely roses, with a profusion of fragrant blossoms. They gave us strawberries, peaches, pine-apples, and sugar-cane to take with us,—a citron, too, such as our preserved citron for cake is made of. It looked like an enormous lemon. Besides this, we had an elegant bouquet of flowers,—a magnificent fragrant magnolia, that queen of flowers, looking so waxen with its heavy white leaves, and in beautiful contrast with it the scarlet pomegranate blossoms: a fair white lily and snowy japonica completed a bouquet fit for a royal gift.

The view from the piazza is exquisite. Mountains rise peak above peak in the distance, while a beautiful valley, with its meandering stream, lies at your feet. Tropical trees and lovely flowers are all around you. I do not wonder that Mr. Wyllie is proud of Kikiula valley, with its waving fields of sugar-cane. He called his estate Princeville after the young Prince of Hawaii, who is now dead.

On Thursday morning, bright and early, we started on our travels again. The roads of Kauai are better than on any of the other islands. Several members of the party started a little before the others, and rode up Kikiula valley through Princeville. After a ride of about two and a half miles, we dismounted, and ascended a little eminence. What a scene was before us! Far below was the river with its rapids, the course of which we could trace down the valley for some distance. Around us were the mountains, on the left a bluff, and before us the Twin Peaks, with cascades in the distance. We galloped back, and soon overtook our cavalcade. We had a fine ride that day through groves of tropical-looking lohala-trees. Verdant valleys and lovely cascades, winding streams and wooded precipices, abound. After fording a narrow arm of the sea, grandma's horse gave himself so violent a shake that the girth of the saddle broke, throwing both her and the saddle to the ground. Fortunately, no bones were broken, as where she fell the sand was quite deep, but she felt the shock for several days. We lunched at the house of a German, who kept a small store, and then rode on several miles to Kealia Park, the residence of Mr. Krull, a kind German gentleman, who hospitably entertained us overnight. Mr. Krull has a large dairy, which in part supplies the Honolulu market with butter. He has a well-conducted, elegant, and tasteful establishment; indeed, it was difficult to imagine that no lady's hand was employed in it. The grounds about the house are prettily laid out, and two walks lead to a picturesque summer-house, called "Bellevue," from which one looks off over an extensive plain to the sea. We slept in a nice grass house, with matting on the side instead of paper. Familiar engravings adorned the walls, and the beds, with their pretty muslin mosquito-curtains, looked inviting enough to the weary traveler.

We saw many kinds of tea-roses, with their delicate tints. The garden abounded in a variety of vegetables, and we feasted on strawberries which were hanging on their stems in the morning. Within sight was a fine bluff extending down to the sea. About fifty feet from the top of the ledge was a round hole, through which we could see the sky. The bluff was very steep and thin, and exceedingly bold in its outlines, as almost all the ranges of hills are here.

But now we must go to tea.



XVII.

Kauai and Oahu.

"Come aunty, come!" said Alice; "Willie and Carrie sent me to call you." So I went with my little messenger.

* * * * *

We left Mr. Krull's on the morning of May 15, and had a sandy and uninteresting ride until noon. The only pleasant thing about it, beside good company, was an exquisite bouquet of beautiful tea-rosebuds, from our kind entertainer's garden. At noon a carriage met us, kindly sent by a foreign resident at Lihue, and the older members of the party got into it. It was a heavily-built English barouche drawn by two horses. Two native outriders, when a steep hill was to be ascended, attached lassos to the carriage, which were fastened to their saddles, so that, with the aid of their horses, the carriage went steadily and quickly over the ground, and the occupants had the satisfaction of riding in a coach and four.



"What are lassos?" asked Alice.

A lasso is a long rope, sometimes made of leather. It is generally used to catch wild horses or cattle with; but it did excellent service in the way in which it was used that day.

We arrived at Mrs. Rice's, Lihue, in good season, and stayed there overnight. We visited another sugar-mill there, and found it like the others,—a sweet place.

Early on Saturday morning, I started on an excursion to Wailua Falls, about six miles distant. We rode over field and meadow, when suddenly my companion reined in his horse, and came for me to dismount. "But where are the falls?" said I. "You will see soon." A few steps brought me to the brink of an abyss. What a beautiful scene burst upon my astonished eye! Right before me was this huge sheet of water, pouring into a dark circular pool beneath. One side of the fall was heavy, the other so thin that it seemed as if every drop fell by itself; while covering the black rocks beneath, as if with emerald velvet, were delicate ferns and mosses. How pure and fleecy it looked! while far, far below us the river gleamed like silver through the leaves. The hight of this fall is one hundred and eighty-six feet, and it is fifty feet broad. Two miles farther up the river is another fall nearly as high, but divided into two cascades, one about one hundred feet, the other perhaps seventy.

There is a fine estate not far from the falls that seemed more like an American country-seat than any I saw on the islands. A large square house is built upon the edge of what was once an old crater, but which is now transformed into a fine garden, abounding in flowers. This is a dairy-farm, and is well kept. Our sixteen miles' ride was performed in less than three hours, which we thought fast riding, there being no road most of the way.

We left Lihue at ten o'clock, and rode over to Koloa, ten miles, in the barouche, arriving there in time for dinner.

After tea the young people of the mission went down upon the beach to see the "Spouting Horn." Through an underground channel, the waves are driven in with so much force as to make, through a small hole in the rock, a fountain forty or fifty feet high, with a sound that is heard for some distance. There is also a blow-hole, reminding one of the volcano, and a "boiler,"—a round cavity where the waves sink, and then suddenly boil over.

On the Sabbath, grandpa addressed the natives in the morning. The governor of the island of Kauai was present. In the afternoon he preached to the foreigners. Quite a party came over from Lihue, making a goodly number in all. Almost all the native churches on the Sandwich Islands are pretty and neat. The people seem to take a great deal of pride in them, and keep them in good repair. All are furnished with bells, so that the sound of the "church-going bell" is heard in every village.

Monday morning we started for Waimea with a large cavalcade, our friends wishing to see us safely over the first half of our way. Mr. Rowell, of Waimea, met us. The country as we neared Waimea grew desolate. They had had no rain there for a year, and nearly all vegetation had dried up. Not a blade of grass was seen, and only a few green trees relieved the eye in that arid region. The reason of the drought is that Waimea is on the leeward side of the mountains, which are a barrier to the clouds and rain.

"What is leeward?" asked Harry.

On the opposite side from that upon which the wind blows. We were met with great cordiality by the entire family. "Old Jona" came to see us, an aged Hawaiian of Kamehameha I.'s time. A very interesting old man he was too.

The next morning there was a meeting at the church, and grandpa addressed the natives. "Old Jona" sat in front of the pulpit, and when anything grandpa said pleased him particularly, he would turn round to him, smile, and nod his head. It was amusing to observe his evident enjoyment.

Some of us went down to the beach. The tide was coming in, and the boys made what they called sandboats. They built a bank in the shape of a boat, and watched to see the waves wash it away. At length they made a heavy sand fort, which they called Sumter, that seemed strong enough to defy the assaults of the water. Wave after wave dashed against and over it, and finally it, too, disappeared like the others.

In the afternoon we rode up into the valley, where Mr. Rowell's garden is. There everything was green, in striking contrast with the scene near his house. We found some nice peaches, and brought home a pretty bouquet of white roses and nasturtions. The next day, Wednesday, we started for Koloa. Dr. Smith and party met us at Wahiawa. We stopped to dine at Mr. Duncan McBride's, a Scotchman's, where we were sumptuously entertained. After tea at Dr. Smith's, we embarked on the steam-schooner Annie Laurie, and soon after seven, took our farewell look at the island of Kauai.

Two nights and a day were spent on the deck of that schooner, with a chopped sea, a head-wind, and sea-sickness,—a weary, dreary time. We were somewhat comforted about three o'clock on Friday morning by hailing the bark Young Hector, just outside of Honolulu harbor; for we knew that before long home letters would be in our hands, and we had received none for a month. About five o'clock, our steamer reached the wharf, and we were soon in our comfortable quarters at Mr. Clark's. About eight o'clock our letters came.

We had little time for rest; for the next day, Saturday, May 23, we started on our tour around Oahu.

We saw among the Moanalua hills a curious little salt lake, as salt as the sea. Here a slight shower dampened our clothes, but not our spirits. About fifteen miles from Honolulu we stopped at Ewa, where grandpa was to hold a meeting in the church. Quite a number of natives came, and we had a pleasant greeting. The lunch was served for us at Mr. Bishop's house, and we then resumed our journey over a good road, and finished our ride of thirty-five miles about five o'clock. We stayed at Mr. Emerson's, Waialua, and had two services in the native language on the Sabbath. We really enjoyed these meetings with the natives, and constantly exclaimed, "What hath God wrought!" Only a few years ago, these islands were in the depths of barbarism and idolatry; now, what a change! The people are well dressed; in the house of God they are respectful and attentive, have their own deacons, their own choir, are intelligent. Most of them can read, and when the text was given out, or a chapter read, often the Bible would be opened to the place, and they would follow the reading with great apparent interest.

On Monday the younger members of the party rode to a grove about eight miles distant to get tree-shells, and brought home quite a number.

Tuesday morning we started for Kualoa. Grandpa and grandma rode in Mr. Emerson's wagon drawn by two horses; the rest of us were on horseback. The roads were good, our spirits excellent, and the weather fine; so, of course, all was well. Mr. Charles H. Judd met us with his double team about five miles out, and we lunched at Mr. Moffatt's. Mr. Moffatt is an Englishman, who has here a fine place, and large herds of cattle. He has a pretty bathing-place near the house, perhaps twenty feet in diameter, half in sunlight, half in a grotto, with delicate ferns almost hiding the rock.

There were several peacocks sunning themselves on a wall near the house; but none of them condescended to spread their beautiful feathers for us to admire. Before the house are two large stone idols, the only ones we saw on the islands.

"Are they worshiped, aunty?" asked Alice.

No, they are placed there as curiosities.

Grandpa and Mr. Judd had an engagement, and started before us. Grandma rode in Mr. Judd's wagon, and we left Mr. Moffatt's about two.



XVIII.

Oahu.

The next day at four, I took my customary seat, surrounded by my little group, and resumed my narrative.

* * * * *

About ten miles from Kahuku, at Hauula, is a church with a native pastor,—Mr. Kuaia. We attended a meeting there, and afterward dined at his house. He is a well-educated and gentlemanly man, and his wife an interesting woman. They live in a neat grass house, furnished simply but comfortably in American style. The dinner passed off in a very satisfactory manner. They had pretty wreaths prepared for us; some were made of a small orange-colored apple, others of yellow marigolds strung on a cord. After dinner we rode another ten miles, and were tired enough with our long day's ride to sleep well.

The next morning we rode over to the house of a friend to see the lassoing of cattle. The house was on quite an eminence, so that we had a good view of a level plain before it. A herd of cattle were driven into the valley, and three gentlemen on trained horses, with lassos in their hands, each selected their animal, and started in pursuit. It seemed as if in an instant the creature knew it was hunted, for it would move from place to place, and then start on a run, endeavoring to elude its pursuers; but the horseman, never for a moment losing sight of his prey, galloped on, turning this way and that as the creature did, until near enough, and then the lasso sped through the air coiling round and round the poor animal's legs, generally throwing him on his knees. Then the hunter leaped from his saddle, the intelligent horse standing still, and the lasso was drawn tighter and tighter until the animal fell on his side. Finally, a rope was tied round the hind legs, and the work was done. It was very exciting, as once in a while a horse would stumble and fall, sometimes throwing his rider; and oftentimes the chase was long, the animal eluding the hunter's grasp just as he thought he had cornered him.

"Oh, I wish I had been there!" said Harry.

Yes, I don't doubt that you would have enjoyed it; but I felt so sorry for the poor cattle that it tired me.

In the afternoon, we young people went on an excursion of about twenty miles on horseback to see the Falls of Ka Liuwaa. After passing about eight miles on the beach, we turned up a mountain ravine; two miles more brought us to the end of our ride. We dismounted and had a lunch, sitting in the branches of a fallen kukui-tree, and drinking water from a cup made of a taro leaf. We took off our riding-skirts, threw them over the saddle, and leaving our horses in the care of a native man, walked up the narrow gorge, or gulch, as they call it here, seldom more than one or two hundred feet wide, with precipitous sides rising sometimes a thousand feet above us. At times we were just on the edge of the stream, but as often jumping from rock to rock in the very bed of the brook. Towards the termination of the gorge, is a place in the rock called "The Canoe," a half-circle gouged right down the precipice as smooth as if chiseled out, about fifty feet wide, and a thousand feet deep.

"Why do they call it 'The Canoe'?" asked Willie.

There is a story connected with it, as with everything on these islands. One of their gods was angry with another god, and sought to kill him. I believe the latter, who was running away, slipped his canoe down the rock, making the groove I have described, and escaped to the sea.

Soon we came to the fall itself, and here the precipices on each side were one and two thousand feet high. The fall is about a hundred feet, running through a narrow gulch from a lake above, and probably never was seen by a foreign eye. It was a lovely and romantic place. The water fell into a small, but deep, circular pond. Exquisite varieties of ferns and mosses grew upon the rocks lining its sides, and no sound was heard but the plashing of water.

Some of the natives are said to have a superstitious fear of the place, the remains of their old religion; and the way up was lined with offerings, consisting of a leaf with a few stones piled on it. I don't believe they are much afraid, for they laughed if the stones were thrown over.

The next day we rode on fifteen miles to Kaneohe. Here we met Rev. Mr. Parker's people. On our way we passed several rice-fields. Rice is grown in wet places, like the taro. It looks very much like grain as you see it in the distance, but it is of a very brilliant green.

Early the next morning we left for Honolulu. Soon after we started, our baggage-horse ran away. One of the bags which he bore got loose and frightened him. Our horses saw him coming with one bag swinging back and forth under his body, and began to be uneasy, so we turned them off to the side of the road, and he rushed past us. The gentlemen and natives started in pursuit. The poor horse crossed a river, and was finally caught in a taro-patch. Our bags were torn to pieces, and many of their contents scattered over the plain; some were wet through or stained with the green mud from the taro-fields.

"Did you find all your things?" asked Harry.

Almost everything; the poor horse looked sadly jaded and tired, but he had to carry the baggage the rest of the way.

We rode up a precipitous ascent two or three thousand feet high, by a zigzag road cut into its sides. The adjacent precipices are some of them much higher. Over one of these Kamehameha I. drove the defeated warriors of Oahu, in his last battle on the island. That was savage warfare. The precipice up which we rode is called "The Pali," or precipice; it is at the head of Nuuanu valley. The finest approach to it is from Honolulu. Masses of rock rise high above you on either side, while a beautiful panorama of hills, valleys, cottages, winding streams, and verdant plantations all opens to your astonished eye, and bounding the distant view is the ocean.

Riding down Nuuanu valley, we were again surrounded by our Honolulu friends. Our tour of the Hawaiian Islands was ended.

The next day, May 30, the steamer Kilauea came into port, bringing missionaries from the other islands to attend the general meeting appointed to be held in Honolulu in the month of June.

The meeting opened June 3, and every morning and afternoon there were business meetings until the 16th, when the examination of Oahu College at Punahou commenced. It was a fine examination,—the same studies as in our New England academies. It lasted through two days, and on the third day there was an exhibition in the evening at the stone church. The house was prettily decorated, the king lending his royal reception-flag for the occasion, an enormous banner forty feet long. This was suspended by the four corners from the ceiling, forming a sort of canopy over the platform. There were also American, French, British, Spanish, and Hawaiian flags, together with wreaths, mottoes, and bouquets. The church was crowded with foreigners and natives. The speeches were good, the young men doing themselves credit, and the singing was fine; indeed, there are some superior singers in Honolulu. Commencement ended, as in our own country, with the president's levee. Everybody seemed to be present, and to enjoy themselves, and did ample justice to the abundant collation spread in the college hall. The evening closed with patriotic songs, and thus ended the college year of 1863.

General meeting was resumed after the exercises at Punahou were concluded. Almost every missionary was present, and had brought a part or the whole of his family. The Pastor of the Foreign Church, the Seamen's Chaplain, President of Oahu College, native pastors and delegates were all present. It was delightful to witness the harmony pervading this large body, and to see how strong the Christian and missionary tie that bound them together. There they sat day after day, exchanging their opinions, discussing questions, and settling matters of great importance to them and the people, meeting and praying together, and it seemed as if the spirit of Christ rested upon them; for no jar or discord was allowed to enter.

The work of the Lord in those islands is very great. There are now only 67,000 inhabitants, and yet in these forty-three years in which the mission has been in operation there have been 52,413 converts, and 19,679 are now connected with the churches. Surely, this may be called a Christian nation. There was another "Cousins' Meeting" on the evening of June 6th. I wish you could peep in upon one of these gatherings. Thirty or forty young people together, all united by the missionary tie, the ladies wearing light or white muslins, with gay belts and sashes, flowers in their hair, and happy, joyous, faces; the gentlemen with a rose in their button-hole, in summer dress; windows, doors, and blinds all open; and after the business of the meeting is over, numerous happy couples promenading to and fro on the piazza. All this gives a festive look, and one has a feeling of interest not felt in gatherings in our own land. At parties there, one never expected a greater variety of refreshments than cake, coffee, and strawberries; so they can be conducted without much expense, and little companies are the order of the day. Then it is so easy getting about; no cold winter snows to trudge through, no chilling wind to guard against; everybody has a horse or vehicle of some kind, or his next neighbor has, and is willing to be neighborly.

But we must leave Honolulu parties, and go to an American supper.



XIX.

Honolulu again.

Wee little Alice came for me, with her bright face, at four o'clock next day, to lead me to my accustomed seat in the sitting-room, where my happy little group were always awaiting me.

* * * * *

The general meeting occupied most of the days until three o'clock, and we ladies took our sewing and listened to the grave debates. It was an interesting season to all present.

Half a dozen of us started on horseback one afternoon, to visit Kalihe valley, one of the beautiful gulches near Honolulu; but when we reached the entrance of the valley, it rained so that we could not explore its charms. But we turned off to the residence of an aged blind man, and rambled in his garden among peach, orange, and mango-trees, and then sat on the piazza eating mangoes and chatting for an hour. One of the most valued trees in this whole garden was a little dwarf apple-tree, with two good-sized apples on it. Those were some of the first ever grown on the islands, I believe. After our mango feast, we had a brisk gallop back to the town.

One day we occupied in making wreaths and mottoes to decorate the schoolhouse, where the annual meeting of the Cousins' Society was to be held in the evening. Over the middle window, opposite the door, were the letters "X L C R" [Excelsior], and below were a wreath and festoon, with pendants intermixed with beautiful flowers. On either side, was "UNITY, 1852" [when the society was formed], and "HARMONY, 1863." In the arch of each window hung a wreath of maile, a pretty green vine. Between each window was a tin candle-stand, trimmed with the vine and flowers. Over the door were four small American flags intertwined with one Hawaiian flag. The reports of the officers were read, and various addresses made, and "Unity" and "Harmony" were the watch-words of the meeting. We had one more meeting at the schoolhouse, when grandpa addressed the Cousins, reminding them of the responsibility resting on them; that as their fathers laid the burden down, they must take it up, and be to the Hawaiian people a help and support. They answered that they were ready and willing, and, God helping them, they would try and be faithful to the people committed to their care.

The last part of our stay in Honolulu we spent at the hospitable house of Mrs. Chamberlain, one of the oldest buildings in Honolulu. The house was in a very sunny spot, and was of stone. Pretty little lizards used to come out of their hiding-places and sun themselves, and I often watched them as they played about.

"Wouldn't they hurt you?" asked timid little Alice.

Oh, no, indeed! they are perfectly harmless. They are very small and delicate; I seldom saw one more than three or four inches long.

"Do they have snakes on the islands?" asked Harry.

No, not one; the only poisonous reptiles are scorpions and centipedes. I saw only one scorpion. That was at Punahou. I was sitting in the parlor one day, and saw a small peculiar-looking creature creeping towards me on the floor. Some movement of mine, made it throw its tail up over its back; then I knew it was a scorpion; for I had read that the sting was in the tail, and when frightened, it would throw its tail over its back ready to strike. One of the gentlemen killed it.

I saw only two live centipedes. They are ugly-looking creatures. One dreads a close contact with them. They run and twist about as if they felt they were unwelcome guests.

We had a very pleasant farewell party at Dr. Judd's, where we met missionary friends and some of the foreign consuls and their wives. Once more I explored the extinct crater of Punchbowl, this time on horseback, and admired the beautiful landscape before me when tinged with the setting sun.

On the afternoon of June 26th, the native women brought us gifts of tapa, necklaces, corals, etc. It was a suggestion of their own. They wished us to take home mementoes of them, and had been planning it for some time among themselves. Some of the necklaces were made of beautiful yellow feathers. Only two of that color grow on the bird, one under each wing; so the necklaces are very valuable. Others were made of hundreds of small braids of human hair, from which is suspended a hook made of whale's tooth. Those were worn in former times only by chiefs.

My last excursion was a ride round the old crater of Diamond Head. We rode through the fine, cocoa-nut grove of Waikiki, drinking from its refreshing fruit, and then cantered along the sea-beach, nearing the desolate mountain at every bound. Just before we reached its base,—a narrow belt of sand only separating it from the sea,—a party of gayly-dressed natives came one by one round a projecting point on the full gallop. All wore their red and yellow kehaes, or riding-suits. There were twenty or more of them, and it seemed like a streak from a rainbow as they flitted by.

The nearer we came to Diamond Head, the more forbidding it looked. Nothing green is seen upon it; old decaying, crumbling lava extends from its summit to its base. Beyond the volcano is a very ancient burying-ground on the sea-shore, and as we rode over it, bones were often seen. We completed the circuit of Diamond Head, riding a distance of twelve miles in two hours, and returned quite refreshed by the excursion.

I then bade adieu to my little horse, who had served me so faithfully and well. He bore the name of "Shakspeare," though usually called by the undignified title of Rat. Never did a little horse more deserve a better name. But then, "What's in a name?"

On Sabbath afternoon, June 28th, Mr. Henry H. Parker, the son of a missionary, was ordained pastor of the congregation worshiping in the stone church. The services were very interesting to witness, but were all in Hawaiian. We had become quite familiar with the native sentence, "E pule kakou"—"Let us pray." The right hand of fellowship was given by Rev. Mr. Kuaea, a native minister, and it was an affecting sight to see those two young men, one white—the other dark-skinned,—clasp hands in Christian fellowship.

The 30th of June I attended my last "candy-pull." This is a fashionable amusement there. The candy is made from sugar, and is whiter and less sticky than molasses.

Saturday, July 4th, opened in quite a patriotic manner with the firing of thirteen cannon. At ten, we went to Fort Street church, and heard a fine oration from the pastor, Rev. Mr. Corwin. The church was decorated with flags. Over the pulpit was laid a very large and elegant American flag,—a silken banner. It seemed like an American assembly on our nation's birthday. Early in the afternoon we attended a picnic on the grounds of Oahu College, Punahou. Those assembled sat in groups on the grass, while our Declaration of Independence was read. Then they adjourned to a long tent, under which were two tiers of tables, abundantly laid with a tempting array of good things, while "the feast of reason and flow of soul" were supplied by several patriotic speeches and songs. Thirteen cannon were fired at noon and night, and fireworks closed the evening. So you see how patriotic Americans are abroad.

July 5th was our last Sabbath in the islands. Grandpa had a farewell meeting at the stone church in the morning, at which about twenty-five hundred natives were present. Grandpa bade them good-by, and Judge Ii [Ee], one of themselves, expressed their farewell. Many crowded round to say their last "aloha." It really made us feel sad to part from this interesting people. We longed to labor among them, and continue the good work so favorably begun.

Monday morning, July 6th, we went on board the bark Comet. Farewells were said; our visit at these islands was ended; and we were homeward bound.

What happy memories cluster around that little group of islands in the Pacific! We received only good deeds and kind words while there. The houses of missionaries and foreigners were ever opened to us in hospitality, and the natives were ready with a hand-grasp and a hearty "aloha."

It is only about forty-three years since the missionaries first went there, and nobody could read or write, nobody had ever written in their language, and now—thanks to our heavenly Father and the missionaries—almost all the natives can do both.

What should we be, if only a little over forty years ago, our parents had been degraded heathen, knowing nothing of God, wandering about as naked and as wicked as those poor Hawaiians were? We ought to thank God, both for them and for ourselves,—for ourselves, because we were not born thus, and for them, because the light of the gospel and of civilization has dawned upon them.



XX.

Voyage to San Francisco.

"Now, aunty, tell us about your homeward voyage," said Willie as I made my appearance in the sitting-room at the usual time. So I began:—

* * * * *

Our voyage was a tedious one, for we had a succession of calms all the way. It was very discouraging, for we would be sailing with a good breeze, our sails all filled; then the wind would die away, and the sails would flap lazily against the mast.

Our captain was patient and good-natured, and so were we. That shows you the power of example. If the captain had fumed and fretted, and wondered why we could not have a wind, very likely we should have felt ill-natured and looked cross too, and have had a very unpleasant time. As it was, we made the best of our calms, and hoped for a breeze, and rejoiced even if we were "making haste slowly."

On the ninth day out, we had some variety, for a shoal of fish passed us, called albacoa; we caught a fine large one. A ship hove in sight, too, and we thought she had just the name for our calm sailing, the "All-Serene." She was an English ship, from Sydney, Australia, and had been sixty days out. She wanted fresh provisions and flour; so our captain gave her potatoes, bananas, and turkeys. Being so much becalmed ourselves, our captain did not dare to give them flour, as we might come short, and they had plenty of hard bread. It quite revived our courage, for what were our nine days compared with their sixty days? And we had plenty of provisions and good company.

We saw a great many flying-fish every day. These are small, and have their forward fins so long that they serve them as wings skimming along on the surface of the water. They looked very silvery in the sunlight, and I thought at first they were little white birds.

Several times we saw porpoises, and one day a shoal of whales was in sight. One big black fellow leaped out of the water; we first saw his great head, then his fluked tail thrown up in the air, as he dived down to depths beneath. Some of them were spouting and playing about us, and one had a young whale with her.

A large shoal of "skip jacks" surrounded the ship one morning; there must have been thousands of them!

"What are skip jacks?" asked Willie.

A pretty blue fish between one and two feet long; they were mostly blue, but seemed to change to all colors of the rainbow. The men fished for them with a hook covered with a rag, which the fish were supposed to imagine a flying-fish, and ten of them were silly enough to be deceived; so we had a chowder of fresh fish.

The captain had the galley or cook-room cleared up for us one afternoon, and we boiled sugar for candy. He did everything possible for our comfort, and often sent in a dish of hot roasted peanuts for us. These peanuts grew on the Sandwich Islands. We saw the plant, the leaf of which is very much like a clover-leaf, and the nut grows underground on the roots like artichokes. Kind island friends had given us a large supply of bananas and pine-apples; so we had quite a variety on our bill of fare.

On Tuesday, the 28th of July, we came into water colored and of a lighter shade than any we had seen. The cause of this is said to be the immense amount of mud washed down from the gold-diggings through the Sacramento River; I can not say whether this is true or not. We hoped to get into San Francisco in time to dine the next day; but a calm dissipated all such anticipations, and we lay off and on by the Farallone Islands all the night of the 29th.

We saw a great many diver birds, about the size of pigeons. While sailing along on the water, they would all at once dive and disappear, and remain under water a long while.

The Farallone Islands are a small group of rocky islets, lying in the Pacific Ocean, about thirty-five miles west of San Francisco. There are two groups of them, the North and South Farallones, about eight miles distant from each other. The southern islands are the most important. On the summit of the largest rock, which is about three hundred and fifty feet high, is a lighthouse. The only person on the island is the light-keeper. The islands are one vast menagerie. Birds of many varieties make their home here by swarms, and thousands of sea-lions and seals cover the rocks.



"What are sea-lions?" asked Harry.

A species of seal often as large as an ox, and weighing from two to three thousand pounds each. They make a very loud noise, a sort of moaning cry, like "yoi hoey, yoi hoey." The young seals are of a dark mouse color, but the older ones are of a light-brown. At a distance the braying of these sea-lions sounded like the rumbling of a railroad train. There is a hole in the rock on one of these islands, where the air is drawn through with a sound like the whistle of a steam-engine.

Every spot and foothold on these rocks seems to be the abode of a bird or seal; the waters around swarm with life, while large flocks of birds are coming from every direction. Vast quantities of eggs are taken from these rocks and carried to the San Francisco market every year.

We left the Farallones about three o'clock in the morning, and when we came on deck, they were fading in the dim distance.

One of the first objects noticed as we approached the coast was Fort Point, where is a massive fortification, well mounted with heavy guns. Between this point and Lime Point is the celebrated Golden Gate, which is about a mile wide and is the entrance into the bay of San Francisco. Connected with Fort Point is a lighthouse and fog-bell; the latter is always rung during foggy weather.

In the bay just opposite the Golden Gate, and about three and a half miles from Fort Point, is Alcatraces Island. It commands the entrance to the great bay of San Francisco. About the center of the island is a large building which may be used for barracks or a citadel. A belt of batteries encircles the island, and it seems to be defended at every point. There is a lighthouse and fog-bell on this island also.

Soon after passing Alcatraces Island, we came to anchor near Mission Street wharf. We waited for the custom-house officer to come on board. After a short detention we went down the ship's ladder into a small boat, and were soon on shore. Half an hour's ride brought us to the Lick House, and the journey to the Hawaiian Islands was among the things of the past. Though so far away from home and friends, we were in the United States, and under our own beloved flag.

We did not forget to thank the Father of mercies for his kind care of us when on the deep, and beseech him to continue his loving-kindness to us while in that far-off part of our great country. Friends gathered about us with their warm greetings, and we soon left the hotel and took up our abode in a quiet family circle. But our hearts began to hasten our departure for our eastern home.



XXI.

California.

We took one day a very pleasant drive out to the Cliff House. Opposite this hotel, which is just on the beach, are some craggy rocks, which are entirely covered with seals and sea-lions. They are so near that you can see them playing in the water, which seems to be alive with them, while their mournful cry echoes in your ears, "yoi hoey, yoi hoey." We took quite a drive on the beach, and saw many little "Portuguese men-of-war," which had been washed up on the sand. They are a sort of stiff jelly fishes, in shape resembling a wafer, with the half of another wafer set up across the center like a sail. We used to see thousands of them floating on the water when at sea. It was quite interesting to watch some little birds, which ran along so swiftly on the sand that they seemed to glide without any movement of their feet. They looked brown, but when they flew, their breasts and the under part of their wings were snowy white; and as their wings vibrated quickly, the sudden alternation of brown and white had a very pretty effect.

At four o'clock on the afternoon of August 5th, we started for Sacramento, on the steamer Yo Semite. The steamer was named for a beautiful valley in California. The first object of interest we passed was Alcatraces Island, with its circle of batteries; but our chief attention was bestowed upon the city left behind us and the shipping,—the larger craft lying at anchor, or changing their position, and the smaller boats flitting here and there in the bay. Passing several islands, we entered San Pablo Bay [St. Paul]. The scenery on either side was interesting, but soon, passing through the Straits of Carquinez, we were in Suisun Bay, and neared the city of Benicia. An arsenal, barracks for soldiers, and the works of the Pacific Mail Steamship Company are located here. While sailing in this bay, we had a good view of Monte Diablo, a high and lonely mountain which seems to be the landmark for all the country round. We passed the San Joaquin River, and soon entered the Sacramento River, a muddy, turbid stream. All the mud from the mines is washed into this river, and pours down into the bay, and from thence to the ocean, coloring the water for a long distance out to sea. We passed by vast quantities of tules or rushes, which cover the surface of the water for miles. Our arrival at Sacramento was about midnight, but we remained on board the boat until morning, and then went to the Vernon House. After breakfast we walked a short distance up the river to a fine bridge about nine hundred feet long.

After lunch we took the cars for Folsom, twenty miles from Sacramento, accompanied by a friend. We passed into the mining district, and at Folsom took a carriage. It was warm and dusty riding, as there is no rain in the summer in that section of California. After an hour's ride, reached Willow Springs, where were the mines we had come to see. This was an hydraulic mine; that is, it is worked by water. We clambered about in the excavation, saw the bed rock, upon which there is a layer of gold-bearing gravel, then one of clay, another of gold-bearing gravel, then of clay again, and one more of gravel. They play with a hose on the gravel, and the water and gravel is washed down through long sluices, the bottom of which is made uneven by blocks of wood placed across. The bits of gold lodge on the uneven surface. In some places they cut down the gravel with pickaxes, and wash it in pans. One man washed out a spadeful of gravel for us, and we brought home a few specks of gold dust. We returned to Sacramento to dine, and after dinner I rode out to the Fair grounds, where the great State agricultural fairs are held. This is the fashionable drive in Sacramento in the afternoon. Here is a fine drive of a mile, outside of which are stalls for cattle. A gentleman told us that in 1849 he sold flour for three hundred dollars a barrel; and bought potatoes for a dollar and a half a pound. That was when California was first known as a gold country, and so many people went thither to seek their fortunes.