Chapter XXII: Homeward Bound (4)

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.

The next morning, Mr. M., one of our fellow-passengers from New York to San Francisco took us a delightful drive about the city and suburbs. We saw the levees, which were erected to save the city from another flood.

"What are _levees_?" asked Willie.

They are heavy banks of earth built along the margin of the stream. The last flood took place in the winter, on December 9, 1861, and January 10, 1862. The whole city was flooded. The water rose over the table in the dining-room of the hotel in which we stayed. Houses could be reached only in boats, and no one knew how soon his dwelling might be undermined and fall. A great deal of the fertile land about Sacramento was ruined by the flood, being covered with a deep layer of gravel.

We saw the new capitol which is in process of erection, and a large, handsome structure it will be. We passed near Sutter's Fort, where it was first discovered that there were gold mines in this country.

In 1853, the city spread over about as much ground as it now does, when it was destroyed by fire. The climate of Sacramento is very different from that of San Francisco, being much warmer. It is so far from the coast that it escapes the chilling wind that visits the latter city at certain seasons of the year.

In the afternoon we went on board the steamer Chrysopolis bound for San Francisco. We went through a slough (or, as the people pronounce it, _slew_) in the river about seven miles long.

"What is a _slough_?" asked Alice.

There was a long bend in the river, of fourteen miles, so they cut a sort of canal across it, and half the distance was saved. This canal they call a slough.

Mr. M. told us that in one of the early years of the gold excitement, there was an old man who had watermelons that were in great demand, sometimes selling for five dollars apiece. The next year a great many people wanted the seed to plant; these were sold for sixteen dollars per ounce, but not one came up; so they suppose he boiled the seeds before he sold them! We arrived at San Francisco towards midnight. At noon on Saturday we took the steamboat for Oakland, which is across the bay from San Francisco. It took its name from the number of oak-trees growing there. They give a green and pleasant appearance to the country round. California College is situated in Oakland.

On Sabbath we had the pleasure in the morning of listening to a sermon from an old friend, and in the evening grandpa told the people of what God had wrought through the missionaries in the Sandwich Islands.

Monday morning we were taken a long ride over the country about Oakland. On our way back, we stopped at Mr. B.'s orchard, and had some very nice plums, white and purple. There were nectarines, also, which have the skin of a plum and the stone of a peach; apricots, which have the skin of a peach and stone of a plum; I never knew the difference in those two fruits before. We had some delicious peaches, and brought away a branch of the almond-tree, with the nuts on it, which looked like green peaches. We then took the Oakland boat and were soon at our home in San Francisco. California is noted for its fine fruits, and sometimes we saw baskets of assorted kinds looking like those fine paintings we admire so much.

On Thursday, August 13, we bade our kind and hospitable California friends farewell, and went down to embark on the steamer Golden Age. The kindness of our friends did not end when we left their houses, as beautiful bouquets and baskets of fruit in our staterooms testified. We parted from them with regret, for we had received nothing but kindness from their hands. Farewells were said, and San Francisco soon faded from our sight. We were again on the restless ocean, but we were _homeward bound!_

XXII.

Homeward Bound.

"Aunty, aunty, please come and tell us our story," said little Alice; "we are all waiting. You know this is our last story, for we go home to-morrow." So down I went.

* * * * *

We were fairly at sea again. Our steamer was a very good one, and we had pleasant accommodations. Grandpa and grandma had a fine, large stateroom, and as there were not a great number of passengers, I, also, had a stateroom all to myself. I had the lower berth taken out, and my trunks brought up and placed under my berth; then I spread down my rug, and brought in my deck chair, and my room had quite a cozy, homelike air; and I took a great deal of comfort in it. The officers on the boat were very pleasant, and we became acquainted with some of the passengers.

On Sabbath morning, eight of the younger people met together and formed a choir, practiced sacred music, and sung in the morning service, when Rev. Mr. McMonagle preached. In the afternoon we went to the forward part of the steamer, and grandpa preached to the steerage passengers, on "Christ in the ship in the storm." The choir sung, and the poor people looked so gratified and pleased to have preaching and singing that it did one's heart good.

We used to sing songs almost every evening, and it was very pleasant as we sat on the quarter-deck looking off on the water. The moon cast her radiance over the ocean; the white foam, in a long line back, marked our track; and the brilliant stars, seeming far brighter than they do in our northern heavens, looked like diamonds in God's firmament. We sailed along easily and smoothly until the morning of August 30, when we were wakened early by the rolling of the ship, and found a hurricane upon us. It was almost impossible to dress, but after being tossed against both sides of my stateroom several times, I succeeded. What a dismal scene met my eye as I opened my door! Carpets rolled up, sofas and chairs piled in together, the marble tops of the tables taken off and lashed to the floor, skylights leaking, so that we had to choose our footing carefully, or the slippery floors and the ship's rolling would soon bring us down to the floor. On every hand crashes were heard from unlucky lamp-shades, bottles, pitchers, or anything breakable that was not properly secured. The waves seemed mountain high, and the wind was so strong that their crests were blown off in spray.

After a while the captain ordered us all below. The scene in the lower cabin was dismal in the extreme. Passengers--many of them only half dressed, most of them pale from sea-sickness or fear--all crowded together on the sofas on one side of the saloon; for the vessel lay over so that we could sit only on one row of sofas. A dozen people, perhaps, were leaning over the backs of the sofas at one time, all sea-sick. Children were crying from hunger or fright. What a scene! We shipped wave after wave with a shock that made the vessel tremble from stem to stern. Crash followed crash. At one time the cases filled with dishes in the pantry gave way, and what a noise of broken crockery! Three enormous baskets were filled with the pieces. One of the bulkheads was knocked out, and eleven sheep were washed overboard. The butcher's shop was washed away, and two barrels of beef, one of mackerel, and one of table butter went with the rest. The heavy stoves in the steerage cook-room were turned half-way round, and the capping of the huge smokestack was moved several inches. The terrible wind lifted the hurricane-deck, so that six of its props fell out. There was danger of the upper deck and stateroom being blown away. That was a time to try people's souls, to make them consider whether they were the Lord's or not. It was a blessed thing to feel that we were in God's hands, that even if the water closed over our bodies, it would be only the gate of heaven! What happiness to be able to feel in one's heart: "My Father rules the storm." Many of us thought of grandpa's sermon on the Sabbath, when he said, "With Christ in the ship, we may smile at the storm."

The wind was so violent that the men doing duty on deck had to lie down, and pull themselves about, or creep on their hands and knees. For two hours our forward rail was three feet under water, the vessel lay so much on one side, and for some time the ship would not mind her helm, and lay in the trough of the sea. Finally, they rigged a small sail aft, and that brought her up. He who rules the wind and the sea caused the storm to abate, and towards evening it was comparatively calm. We had had nothing to eat for twenty-four hours, which will give you some idea of the storm. Staterooms and clothes were in many instances wet; but no one complained, for all felt thankful for our escape. In the evening there was a meeting in the saloon, and almost all the passengers assembled with the officers of the vessel to give thanks to God for his preserving mercy.

The next morning I rose early, so that I might see the entrance to Acapulco Harbor. This entrance is very narrow, and is surrounded by high wooded hills, forming one of the best harbors on the Pacific coast, south of San Francisco. I went on shore again; but I gave you a description of the place before.

August 27 found us at anchor off Panama. We were sorry to leave our good ship and her pleasant corps of officers. When we were in the cars, the natives brought a great many things to sell. One man would have ear-rings, the next wine, then "nice lomonard," or little ornaments of pearl-shell, while others brought fruit and cakes. After a tiresome hour, we started on our journey across the Isthmus.

One thing that attracted my attention was the telegraph-posts; they looked like stone, but were made of concrete.

"What is _concrete_?" asked Harry.

In this instance, I suppose it was a composition made of pounded stone and cement cast in a mold. The mold was filled in with concrete and left for several days. The reason of their having such posts was that the worms destroyed the wooden ones.

The natives brought into the cars some beautiful flowers. They were of alabaster whiteness, in shape not unlike a tulip, and having a strong perfume somewhat like the magnolia. Resting within the cup of the flower, lies the perfect image of a dove, with its beautifully formed wings spread out from its side, its head bent forward, and its tiny bill delicately tipped with red almost touching its snowy breast. No one who has seen the flower can wonder that the early Spanish Catholics believed the flowers to have had a miraculous origin, and named it "Flor del Espiritu Santo" or "The Flower of the Holy Ghost."

Matachin is the largest station on the Isthmus. There we procured oranges, which were unusually fine, also cakes tasting like macaroons, and some bottles of milk.

Over the Chagres River at Barbacoas, is a wrought-iron bridge six hundred and twenty-five feet long and eighteen broad, standing forty feet above the surface of the water; it is said to be one of the longest and finest bridges in the world. All along the road the sensitive plant, with its feathery pink blossoms, grew in wild profusion.

At half-past eight in the evening we were on board the steamer Champion. We soon commenced our last voyage, and _such_ a voyage! The vessel rolled, and the ice in the hold gave out, and in consequence the meat was in no fit state to eat. Every body and every thing seemed uncomfortable. It was a great change from the clean and pleasant Golden Age. We saw the islands of San Domingo, Narvasa, Jamaica, Cuba, Santa Inagua, and Mayo Guano, of the West Indies.

On the morning of September 3, we were chased by a steamer. She was under sail when we first saw her, but commenced getting up steam. She lost time in that operation, and we outsailed her, much to our joy. Our captain said without doubt she was a privateer.

Next day we were in the Gulf Stream. It was rough, squally, and rainy, and the steamer rolled worse than ever. But all things come to an end, and the next day was bright and pleasant. We left the Gulf Stream in the night and were happy in a smooth sea. Six or seven ships were in sight, and in the afternoon we passed Barnegat Lighthouse, then Highland Light. We saw the lights in the hotels at Long Branch, and finally the light on Sandy Hook beamed on our delighted eyes.

At two o'clock Sabbath morning, September 6, we lay at anchor off quarantine, and at five we were at the wharf in New York,--our voyage ended. After much delay and confusion, we got ourselves and baggage on and in a carriage, and soon were receiving the greetings of friends.

Surely, we ought to sing with our whole hearts that beautiful hymn of Addison:--

"How are thy servants blest, O Lord!
How sure is their defense!
Eternal wisdom is their guide,
Their help, Omnipotence.
In foreign realms and lands remote,
Supported by thy care,
Through burning climes they pass unhurt,
And breathe in tainted air.

"When by the dreadful tempest borne
High on the broken wave,
They know thou art not slow to hear,
Nor impotent to save.
The storm is laid, the winds retire,
Obedient to thy will;
The sea that roars at thy command,
At thy command is still.

"In midst of dangers, fears, and deaths,
Thy goodness I'll adore;
I'll praise thee for thy mercies past,
And humbly hope for more.
My life, while thou preserv'st that life,
Thy sacrifice shall be;
And death, when death shall be my lot,
Shall join my soul to thee."

Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy
kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our debts
as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation;
but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the
power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.

E ko makou Makua iloko o ka lani, e hoa noia kou inoa. E
hiki mai kou Aupuni; e malamaia kou makemake ma ka honua
nei, e like me ia i malamaia ma ka lani la. E haawi mai ia
makou i keia la i ai na makou no neia la; e kala mai hoi ia
makou i ka makou lawehala ana, me makou e kala nei i ka poe
i lawehala i ka makou. Mai hookuu oe ia makou i ka
hoowalewaleia mai; e hoopakele no nae ia makou i ka ino; no
ka mea, nou ke Aupuni, a me ka mana, a me ka hoonaniia, a
mau soa aku. Amene.

Boston: Printed by Dakin and Metcalf, 37 Cornhill.

* * * * *

Transcriber's Notes:

Corrected minor punctuation errors.

Moved The Lord's Prayer in English and Hawaiian to the end of Chapter XXII, as indicated in the Table of Contents. Moved other illustrations to paragraph breaks.

Page vi, Contents, Chapter XIII: Changed Honiopu to Honoipu
(Arrival at Honoipu).

Pages 117, 176: Kept original spelling of "hight".

Kept the following spelling variations:

Page 185: a native pastor,--Mr. Kuaia Page 204: Rev. Mr. Kuaea, a native minister

Page 142: I na misioneri nei, Page 147: Na misionari nei.