152 



Kilauea a^id Manna Loa. 



flow and the reports all agreed. We are feeling sober, for truly we know not but that destruction 

 awaits our beautiful homes — and where shall we go? The people in the Kukuau apana [district] 

 are moving their things and themselves. 



func 2g. — Ah ! How can I tell you the story of yesterday ? I look back upon it as a dream 

 of the night, and yet the experiences, the sights, were actual. We had an early breakfast and a little 

 before nine were ready to start for the flow, our Portuguese John accompanying us. When we 

 reached the turn in the road on the Puna side of the cemetery, there burst suddenly upon our view 

 the spot to which the fire had progressed. And it looked alarmingly near, not more than a mile 

 distant ; but as we rode on the distance increased and we found we went two miles or more beyond 



IflG. 90. W.\TKRSPOrT ON THK FLOW OF iSSl. FURNKATX. 



the further one of the three crater-hills. As we followed the trail, others passed us at more rapid 

 rate, and among them the lyymans and vSeverances with native attendants, and we found many there 

 when we reached the place. A few rods of walking after we dismounted brought us to the margin 

 of the stream, not limpid, sparkling brook, such as one might have looked for in that lovel}', emerald 

 oasis, but a red-hot, madly pursuing, death-dealing flow of lava. Years ago, and not so very many 

 either, people lived thereabouts and the land was under much cultivation (Mr. Coan has often 

 been there, — there was formerly a school-house not far from the place), and you can easily imagine 

 what luxuriant growth of grass there would be, and what strong, leafy guava bushes, in what had 

 become almost swampy land since the soil-tillers had abandoned it. But right over this freshness 

 and beauty the flood was coming. More was to be seen beyond, so we pushed eagerly through tall 

 ferns and bushes of neneleau, almost held in our steps by the sticky mud, till we reached a rocky gorge 

 which in times of heavy rains is the channel for the stream that rushes down a perfect torrent to the 

 sea passing under the bridge near the little church at Kalepolepo. This gorge is now nearly dry, 

 except here and there pools of water in its deepest hollows, and here the lava goes plunging on, 

 making falls of its red-hot, gory mass where aforetime cool cascades sparkled and rippled. Here we 



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