So also the relations which subsist between most foreigners and native women—as wives, is more commonly a source of evil than good. To a person who has never threaded his way over the Sandwich group, it will be natural to suppose that, when a foreigner marries a native woman, he will exert every effort to raise her in the scale of civilization. But such is not the case. Almost, as a general thing, this union is but a license to indiscriminate sensual indulgence and horrible brutality. When a foreigner takes to his arms one of these daughters of the Pacific Islands, and supposes she can do for him what a woman of his own nation could, he must be destitute of the first rudiments of common sense. Yet these mistakes are of nearly every-day occurrence. In such cases, the native women are regarded more as matters of convenience than as immortal, and therefore responsible beings. In a very brief period their masculine tyrants commence their brutality, force their unjust exactions, and become unfaithful to their conjugal

VOWS.

In point of civilization, too, these foreigners, of whom I am speaking, are as much below their wives as their wives are below native women who are married to natives. Justice compels me to state that I have found them generous to a fault. They have always furnished me with the very best they had in their possession, and would never receive from me any compensation for their hospitalities; but, at the same time, there was every thing wanting which could tend to fling around their habitations what we understand by that magical word, that mighty talisman—“ HOME!" It would be impossible to picture the demoniacal outrages perpetrated upon some of these native women by their own husbands during moments of groundless jealousy. However a woman may thus suffer from the hands of a foreigner, there is no redress. Her life becomes a scene of continued slavery. Her spirit is broken, and she too commonly takes that license jealousy only supposed had an existence. stances as these, it is no longer a cause for surprise that so many of the Hawaiians never see the light of a true civilization.

which a groundless Under such circum

A GENUINE "YANKEE."

365

The district of Waimea can not strictly be termed agricultural. This is owing to natural causes, not less than to the inattention of natives and foreigners to agricultural pursuits. In 1850 and 1851, vessels from California took away large supplies of produce. Since then there has been a great reduction in native enterprise.

At Lihue, a short distance to the southwest of Waimea, I passed over a ruined sugar estate. Every effort that ingenuity could devise had been vainly expended upon it. This failure was owing to the commercial laws emanating from that sublime oracle—the body politic at Honolulu; also to the high duties imposed on the exported sugars. But this estate is not the first, nor will it be the last should the present form of government continue-that will be a mere sinking-fund to moneyed men.

But the planter at Lihue was of that singular specimen of the genus homo usually termed a "genuine Yankee." As fast as the government and its one or two "Yankee" satellites tried to crush him in one corner, he always managed to elude their grasp-like an eel-and crept out at another. He was not long in finding out that, with himself, at least, sugar-making was not a lucrative business, and, fearing he might be tempted to attempt it another year, he tore down his sugarhouse, and turned his hogs into the standing cane to fatten for the market. As the chameleon is said to change his hues, so this planter changed his vocation. He at once commenced the business of cabinet-making, and reserved his sugar-grinding machinery for the purpose of turning his saws and lathes. Ever since this change of business, his success has been all he could wish.

While staying with this enterprising gentleman, I was at a total loss to decide which was the greatest curiosity-his personal appearance, or the multiform character of his unconquerable bent of mind. I did decide, however, that a thorough Yankee is the "eighth wonder of the world." I have watched his movements until I have been compelled to relieve my emotions by frequent outbursts of laughter. To me he seem

ed to be a sort of omnipresence on his estate. In his shirtsleeves, and with a lumbering apology for a walking-cane, I have seen him start up a group of indolent natives in one place, and before I could realize that he was really gone, he would be rods away, giving directions in another. I remained with him several days, and when I left him I was compelled to sustain my original conclusion, that a genuine Yankee is the "eighth wonder of the world."

The whole district of Waimea is best suited to raising stock for the market. Horses, cattle, and sheep increase at a rate of three per cent. faster than in any other country in the world. There are no chilling breezes. The lap of Nature is never frozen. The rains are frequent and fertilizing. Verdure is perpetual. Stock of every kind is easily fed on these everlasting pastures. By proper care and enterprise, sustained by a judicious expenditure of capital, this business may be rendered exceedingly lucrative both to salesmen and purchasers.

CHAPTER XXIX.

JOURNEY TO THE SUMMIT OF MAUNA KEA.

Cavernous Formations.-Interview with a genuine "Nimrod."-Sawmills at Hanipoi. —Singing Birds. - Power of Association. -Instances of. A rough but generous Welcome.-A strange Woman. -Ascent of the Mountain.-Forests.-Wild Cattle.-Fruits and Flowers. Deceptions in climbing a volcanic Mountain.-Reach the Summit. Intense Fatigue.-Exquisite Sense of Cold.-Hills of Snow.-A Lunch above the Clouds.-Sound.-Large crateriform Lake.-Apparent Formation of the Mountain.-Extinction of its Fires.-Absolute Solitude.-View from the Summit.-Soliloquy of BYRON'S " Manfred.”—Descent of the Mountain.-Proposed Penance.

HAVING finished my rambles over the district of Waimea, I commenced my preparations for a journey to the summit of Mauna Kea. I felt impatient to tread its snows, and breathe the atmosphere at so sublime an altitude.

A GENUINE "NIMROD."

367

My preparations being completed, I started out with a native guide to the forests of Hanipoi, on the northeast slope of the mountain. For several miles after leaving Waimea, our path lay over a large surface of country, which, from the hollow sounds produced by the horses' feet, was evidently pierced by numerous volcanic subterraneans.

his

Noon overtook me within sight of the residence of Mr. PARKER, an old American, who had resided on this island nearly forty years. I was curious to see him, as I heard much of generous and excellent character, so I resolved on making a short stay with him. In his earlier life he had wandered over the ocean in the capacity of a sailor. His last voyage brought him to this island, when he resolved on quitting a pursuit so precarious. For some years he ranged the woods after wild bullocks, and became a second NIMROD, a mighty hunter before the Lord." He showed me a rifle with which he had shot twelve hundred head of cattle.

After a residence of several years on the island, he married a Hawaiian woman. Two noble half-caste sons were the result of that union. His own untiring and consistent deportment toward her rewarded him, for she has ever been a faithful, good wife. The civilization she displayed in her personal appearance and domestic relations entirely surprised me, and established a firm conviction that, with manly treatment, these "daughters of the isles" can be rendered virtuous, happy, and useful.

From this old veteran I gathered much useful information which I have interspersed in these pages. He had lived on the group several years before the first missionaries landed. He could speak of the "times of KAMEHAMEHA the GREAT," and of his successor, KAMEHAMEHA II. His mind was well stored with facts relating to the habits and customs of the Hawaiians, all of which were deeply interesting; and he lived on this island when the battle was fought for the overthrow of idolatry, on the plains of Kuamoo, in 1819.

On the following day I took leave of Mr. PARKER. My next stage brought me to Hanipoi. At this place I found several

saw-mills employed in cutting lumber, abundance of which was supplied by the extensive forests of Acacia that flourish in this region.

Here, too, for the first time since my arrival at the group, I had the exquisite pleasure of listening to the melody of birds, as they poured forth their music in the midst of the rich foliage, as if in honor to the setting sun. And that melody, so soft, sweet, and unexpected, imparted an intense charm to the already gorgeous robes and associations of nature.

Such an association as this can not fail to attract the notice of the tourist. It awakened up in my own spirit feelings and memories which had been buried there for years. I could recall the hours when, a school-boy, I loved to range beneath the canopy of the woods and groves, and play by the side of the murmuring brooks. Then, every zephyr had its music, every flower its honey, and every rose was thornless. It was the singing of these tiny warblers which brought back days of innocence, and made me a child again. And who has not met some gentle incident which has awakened within him memories, feelings, thoughts, and sympathies that may have slumbered for years, and that come back like music on the surface of the streams, or like the glory of a sun-ray on a calm sea? Man is the creature of association. It was thus that the war-bow of the brave ULYSSES awoke the fountain of PENELOPE's tears.* The events which surrounded the youthful years of Cardinal RICHELIEU followed him through life. And when he built his splendid palace on the site of the old family chateau at Richelieu, he even sacrificed its symmetry to preserve the room in which he was born.†

I spent that night under the hospitable roof of Mr. FAY, an old Englishman, and proprietor of the saw-mills to which allusion has been made. The same liberality which usually characterizes the English nation in their reception of visitors seemed to influence him. His welcome to myself was rough and unceremonious, but unbounded in its generosity. Every *Odyssey, xxi., 55.

+ Mem. de Mlle. de Montpensier, i., 27.