ORME, foreign secretary to the London Missionary Society. Yet in a discourse,* for the most part excellent, delivered by him at various missionary anniversaries in England, he drew a portrait of the South Sea Mission, for which there is no original in the Pacific, and, in our judgment, will not be for a century to come. The following is the paragraph to which reference is made :

66 6

'See those smiling children—their father's boast, their mother's pride—romping in all the joyousness of youth, in all the conscious security of home, and the delights of parental fondness, and brotherly and sisterly affection.

“Behold that happy family, united, endeared, and peaceful! the parents bound together by the indissoluble tie of marriage, and the still more sacred bond of religion-the husband loving his wife even as himself, and the wife honoring and obeying her husband-the children growing up like olive-plants about their table-and all showing how good and how pleasant a thing it is to dwell together in unity.

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Examine that cottage-I describe from facts-it rises on the outskirts of a shady wood, through which a winding path conducts the traveler, improving, as it advances, in beauty. At its termination, and in front of the dwelling, appears a beautiful green lawn. The cottage is constructed with neatness and regularity, and tastefully whitewashed. Enter its folding-doors. It has a boarded floor, covered with oil-cloth; the windows are furnished with Venitian shutters, to render the apartment cool and refreshing; the rooms are divided by screens of kapa, and the beds covered with the same material, white and clean; the apartments are furnished with chairs and sofas of native workmanship, and every article indicating at once the taste and comfort of the occupants.' "+

* "The History of the South Sea Mission applied to the Instruction and Encouragement of the Church. A Discourse delivered at various Missionary Anniversaries. By William Orme, Foreign Secretary to the London Missionary Society." London: Holdsworth and Ball, 18 St. Paul's Church-yard, 1829.

+ Hawaiian Spectator, vol. i., p. 94.

NATURE AND EXTENT OF HOSTILITIES. 355

If foreign secretaries are intemperate in their encomiums, it is to be regretted that some foreigners residing on the group are not more careful in drawing the dividing line between those missionaries who yet faithfully discharge their duties, and those who have abandoned them for the acquisition of wealth and political power. That these two classes exist will not for a single moment be questioned by men who are practically familiar with the present condition of the Sandwich Islands.

There are causes, however, for the existence of some hostilities, cherished both by foreigners residing on the islands and by tourists conversant with their political and religious condition, and the chief of these causes is an attempted unity between the two elements by a few ex-missionaries and their partisans. If to this influence laymen should stand opposed, it ought to afford no cause for surprise, for it has already done much injury to the interests of the nation, as well as to the noble cause of Christianity. It is a well-established fact, that theologians never did become liberal and enlightened politicians; and their failure has always been owing to their dogged determination to render spiritual power superior to the rights and immunities of civil institutions. When the NAZARENE was arraigned before the bar of Pilate, he said, "My kingdom is not of this world!"

CHAPTER XXVIII.

FROM IOLÉ TO WAIMEA.

Solitude of Native Dwellings.-Volcanic Features.-Groves of the Ti Plant.-Wild Oats.-Plains of Waimea.-More Evidences of Depopulation.-Hawaiian Catacombs.-BYRON's Soliloquy on a Skull.-Former Method of Interment among the Hawaiians.— Abuse of the Dead.-A "Plague of Flies."-Comparison of Natives and Foreigners.-Foreigners and Native Wives.-Agriculture.— Sugar Plantations.-A genuine "Yankee.”—Raising Stock for the Market.

As I left Iolé behind me on my way to Waimea, I could not help bestowing a lingering glance on the graves of past generations of men. Nor could I avoid cherishing a profound regret that the last vestige of the race in the district of Kohala was nearly gone to the "land of silence." The character of my journey was such as to foster these impressions. My path lay directly across the mountains separating the districts of Kohala and Waimea. It was nearly an unbroken solitude. The graves of the earlier generations of Hawaiians were around. Their village sites were on every hand. The foot-paths over which many a warrior had passed from his home to battle, and where many a Hawaiian Hebe had glided in the splendors of a tropical twilight, were still there.

As I continued to ascend the long slopes, I passed two or three native huts. What induced them to raise their habitations in the midst of such a solitude, I could not easily guess. But, as the equally solitary inmates came out to steal a glance at me while passing, I almost felt an intruder on their forefathers' soil.

The geological features of this region are purely volcanic. I passed several cones or chimneys several hundred feet high. They had decomposed into a very soft red tufa, and their sides were covered with a rough mountain grass, interspersed

The soil was mostly of a dark

in

with a few stunted trees. brown, and very fertile. Immense groves of the ti plant (Dracana terminalis) flourish on these upland plains. This is one of the many stances of Dame Nature's liberality toward her Polynesian children. The ti plant is serviceable in a variety of ways. The long dark green leaf is used as envelopes for certain marketable articles, and they are usually wrapped round fishes, pigs, and fowls, during the process of cooking. The root, which closely resembles in form the root of the cochlearia, is supplied with a rich saccharine juice. When baked, its taste is not unlike the sugar-cane. As an article of food, it is much prized by the inhabitants of mountain regions; and in times of scarcity, it has fed multitudes who would otherwise have perished with famine.

Half way between Iolé and Waimea, either side of the road was skirted for miles with wild oats, that served as food for numerous herds of wild cattle. It is said they were originally sown by an American sailor whom I found residing in this region. Having disposed of his own "wild oats" in his more youthful days, and becoming weary in baffling the storms of the ocean, he forsook his nautical employment, took to his arms a dusky daughter of Hawaii, and located his abode on terra firma.

Where the road begins to descend the mountains on the south, the plains of Waimea spread before the eye like an immense panorama. When fairly on them, their appearance is much broken by low volcanic mounds and narrow gulches, or water-courses. They have a gradual ascent from the seashore at Kawaihae until they reach the district of Hamakua on the east, and the base of Mauna Kea on the south.

These plains are much pierced by subterranean chambers, many of which are accessible from their roofs, while others, once used as places of interment for the dead, are hermetically sealed. Nearly midway between Waimea and Hanipoi the road leads over one of these vast chambers, no access to which has yet been discovered. In riding over it, the horse's feet

produce hollow reverberations, which carry the conviction to the rider that the roof may break through at any moment.

Like Kohala, the district of Waimea displays numerous evidences of extinct population. On nearly every portion of the plains, and on every hill-side to the north, there were distinct traces of lands that had once been well cultivated, and of villages once densely peopled. At almost every step, the traveler is induced to stay and to ask himself, "What has become of the vast multitudes that once lived and progressed in this region? and where have they been scattered?" And he pauses and reflects until Echo answers "Where?"

Let us pay a visit to the principal catacomb at Waimea. It is situated about three miles to the south of the village. A native guide is a very necessary accompaniment to the traveler, for the site of entrance is difficult to find. The aperture is small and pierces the roof. Several projecting masses of lava rock aid in the descent, which is accomplished by going down feet first, and some care is required to prevent a stranger from breaking his neck by falling backward. The aid of a torch is also required, for the darkness of this catacomb is literally" thick darkness." The chamber has no regular formation; the sides are rugged, and seem as if once torn by a heavy natural convulsion at a very early period. The bottom was much torn in pieces, and in some places the fissures were filled up with a smooth bed of black lava sand, over which a stream of water seems to have passed at different intervals, caused, probably, by infiltration during the rainy seasons.

Nothing can be more striking than the dreary and solemn aspect of this subterranean. The light of a torch hardly scatters the dense darkness beyond its own radius, but casts a pale and startling hue over the heaps of the mouldering dead. The first object which attracted my notice was a skull, against which my foot came in contact while passing over the bed of sand. I picked it up, looked at its eyeless sockets, examined its loose teeth. The interior was filled with sand, fragments of dried grass, and pieces of native cloth, clearly indicating that in this very cranium, once actuated by thoughts, passions,