13° HAWAII. [letter xin. 



insect life, the quiet was perfect, even the ring of our horses' 

 hoofs on the lava was a discord. There was a slight coolness 

 in the air and a fresh mossy smell. It only required some 

 suggestion of decay, and the rustle of a fallen leaf now and 

 then, to make it an exact reproduction of a fine day in our 

 English October. The forest was enlivened by many natives 

 bound for Hilo, driving horses loaded with cocoanuts, bread- 

 fruit, live fowls, pot and kalo, while others with difficulty urged 

 garlanded pigs in the same direction, all as presents for the 

 king. We brought back some very scarce parasitic ferns. 



Hilo, February 24. 



I rode over by myself to Onomea on Saturday to get a little 

 rest from the excitements of Hilo. A gentleman lent me a 

 strong, showy mare to go out on, telling me that she was frisky 

 and must be held while I mounted ; but before my feet were 

 fairly in the stirrups, she shook herself from the Chinaman who 

 held her, and danced away. I rode her five miles before she 

 quieted down. She pranced, jumped, danced, and fretted on 

 the edge of precipices, was furious at the scow and fords, and 

 seemed demented with good spirits. Onomea looked glorious, 

 and its serenity was most refreshing. I rode into Hilo the 

 next day in time for morning service, and the mare, after a 

 good gallop, subsided into a staidness of demeanour befitting 

 the day. Just as I was leaving, they asked me to take the 

 news to the sheriff that a man had been killed a few hours 

 before. He was riding into Hilo with a child behind him, and 

 they went over by no means one of the worst of the palis. 

 The man and horse were killed, but the child was unhurt, and 

 his wailing among the deep ferns attracted the attention of 

 passers-by to the disaster. The natives ride over these dan- 

 gerous palis so carelessly, and on such tired, starved horses, 

 that accidents are not infrequent. Hilo had never looked 

 so lovely to me as in the pure, bright calm of this Sunday 

 morning. 



The verandahs of all the native houses were crowded with 

 strangers, who had come in to share in the jubilations attending 

 the king's visit. At the risk of emulating "Jenkins," or the 

 " Court Newsman," I must tell you that Lunalilo, who is by 

 no means an habitual church-goer, attended Mr. Coan's native 

 church in the morning, and the foreign church at night, when 

 the choir sang a very fine anthem. I don't wish to write about 



