beauty  and  understand  our  enthusiasm  for  this  outing. 
After  a delightfully  smooth  trip  on  the  Kinau,  we  mounted 
the  horses  that  waited  for  us  at  Waimea  wharf  and  started  on 
<our  20-mile  ride  to  the  mountains.  We  wound  along  through 
the  lovely  Waimea  valley,  with  its  green  rice  fields  and  taro 
patches,  following  the  quiet  river,  which  mirrored  the  mango 
trees  along  its  edges.  Here  and  there  were  cottages  with 
groups  of  coconuts,  while  on  each  side  were  the  almost  per- 
pendicular walls  of  red-brown  lava,  which,  in  the  distance, 
seemed  to  touch  each  other  and  merge  into  the  purple  haze 
of  the  mountains  beyond. 
At  last  our  road  changed  to  a trail.  We  moved  on  in  Indian 
file  up  the  narrowing  canon  until  finally  we  came  to  a zigzag 
path  leading  up  the  steep  canon  wall  to  the  grassy  plateau 
above.  Here  we  paused  a few  moments  to  rest  our  horses, 
then  on  and  up  climbed  our  sure-footed  beasts,  winding  about 
boulders,  between  bushes,  and  over  stones  until  at  last  we 
arrived  safely  at  the  top. 
As  we  rested  we  looked  down  the  precipitous  wall  and 
wondered  how  the  beasts  had  scaled  it,  and  understood  why 
our  amateur  riders  had  clung  so  tightly  to  their  saddle  pom- 
mels and  heaved  such  sighs  of  relief  when  we  arrived  on  the 
plateau.  Far  below  was  the  smiling  valley  between  the  frown- 
ing canon  walls,  and  on  the  other  side  were  miles  and  miles 
of  pale  green  cane  rolling  in  gentle  swells  to  the  sea. 
Then  on  and  on  we  rode,  winding  across  the  grassy  plateau, 
over  hills  and  steep  gulleys,  past  scattered  groups  of  fine  old 
koas,  steadily  climbing  upward  until  we  paused  for  another 
rest  near  the  edge  of  the  canon,  where  we  had  a fine  view  of 
Waipio  Falls  leaping  over  the  great  rock  hundreds  of  feet  be- 
low. Here  the  canon  walls  and  the  higher  mountains  have 
the  most  wonderful  violet  color,  shading  into  purple,  making 
a beautiful  setting  for  the  falls. 
A few  more  miles  wTere  climbed,  and  again  we  rested  near 
the  canon’s  brink,  where  we  looked  down  nearly  2000  feet  into 
the  blue  depths.  Then  we  lifted  our  eyes  toward  the  head 
of  this  wonderful  gorge,  carved  from  the  red  and  brown  lava 
by  the  rains  of  many  ages.  The  western  sun  had  glorified 
the  sculptured  towers  and  columns  of  the  canon  wall  until 
they  were  all  alive  with  color,  making  vivid  contrasts  with  the 
great  purple  shadows. 
It  was  here  that  Mr.  Hitchcock  painted  his  fine  picture  ol 
Waimea  Canon.  If  you  have  seen  this  picture  you  may  have  some 
faint  idea  of  the  marvelous  coloring  and  depth  of  this  gorge, 
but  neither  words  nor  pictures  can  more  than  suggest  the 
reality. 
Very  soon  Mr.  Knudsen  met  our  party  with  a cheery  “Halloo” 
of  welcome  and  led  us  to  Halemanu  cottage.  Here  we  rested 
a few  moments  out  of  our  saddles,  had  a cool  drink,  then 
journeyed  on  across  mountain  meadows,  over  steep  ridges, 
