LETTER XI.] 



KALUNA' S POLITENESS. 



have to eat under the focussed stare of twenty pair of eyes. 

 My folding camp-knife appears an object of great interest, and 

 it was handed round, inside and outside the house. When I 

 retired about seven, the assemblage was still in full session. 



The stars were then bright, but when I woke the next 

 morning a strong breeze was blowing, the surf was roaring so 

 loud as almost to drown human voices, and rolling up in 

 gigantic surges, and to judge from appearances, the rain, which 

 was falling in torrents, had been falling for some hours. There 

 was much buzzing among the natives regarding our prospects 

 for the day. I shall always think from their tone and manner, 

 and the frequent repetition of the names of the three worst 

 gulches, that the older men tried to dissuade us from going ; 

 but Deborah, who was very anxious to be at home by Sunday, 

 said that the verdict was that if we started at once for our ride 

 of twenty-three miles we might reach Onomea before the freshet 

 came on. This might have been the case had it not been for 

 Kaluna. Not only was his horse worn out, but nothing would 

 induce him to lead the mule, and she went off on foraging expe- 

 ditions continually, which further detained us. Kaluna had 

 grown quite polite in his savage way. He always insisted on 

 putting on and taking off my boots, carried me once through 

 the Waipio river, helped me to pack the saddle-bags, and even 

 offered to brush my hair ! He frequently brought me guavas 

 on the road, saying, " eat," and often rode up, saying inter- 

 rogatively, "tired?" "cold?" D. told me that he was very 

 tired, and I was very sorry for him, for he was so thinly and 

 poorly dressed, and the natives are not strong enough to bear 

 exposure to cold as we can, and a temperature at 68° is cold 

 to them. But he was quite incorrigible, and thrashed his horse 

 to the last. 



We breakfasted on fowl, fioi, and cocoanut milk, in presence 

 of even a larger number of spectators than the night before, 

 one of them a very old man looking savagely picturesque, 

 with a red blanket tied round his waist, leaving his lean 

 chest and arms, which were elaborately tattooed, completely 

 exposed. 



The mule had been slightly chafed by the gear, and in my 

 anxiety about a borrowed animal, of which Mr. Austin makes 

 a great joke, I put my saddle-bags on my own mare in an evil 

 hour, and not only these, but some fine cocoanuts, tied up in 

 a waterproof which had long ago proved its worthlessness. It 

 was a grotesquely miserable picture. The house is not far 



