Life in Hawaii

By Titus Coan

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Title: Life in Hawaii

Author: Titus Coan

Release date: July 12, 2026 [eBook #79079]

Language: English

Original publication: New York: A. D. F. Randolph & company, 1882

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/79079

Credits: Peter Becker, Shawn Carraher and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE IN HAWAII ***

[Illustration: _Titus Coan_]

LIFE IN HAWAII

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHIC SKETCH
OF
MISSION LIFE AND LABORS
(1835-1881)

BY
THE REV. TITUS COAN

NEW YORK
ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY
900 BROADWAY, COR. 20th ST.

NEW YORK:
EDWARD O. JENKINS, ROBERT RUTTER,
_Printer and Stereotyper_, _Binder_,
20 North William St. 116 and 118 East 14th Street.

NOTE

The task of reading the proofs of the following sketches has fallen
to one whose recollections include more than a few of the scenes and
events described. It seems to him that this record of mission life and
labors will appeal to all those who have followed the wonderful changes
wrought in Hawaii during a life time, from the period of “the great
awakening” until now. The accounts of visits to the Marquesas Islands
have their own independent interest. Still more, the greatest volcano
in the world is in Mr. Coan’s parish, and other readers will turn to
the chapters on its eruptions for vivid and faithful descriptions of
the most imposing volcanic phenomena on record.

T. M. C.

PREFACE.

A pilgrim of four-score years, standing near the margin of the Border
Land, essays to give a sketch of his life--and why?

Because many personal and Christian friends have long urged it as
a duty to my beloved Master to leave my testimony behind me of His
faithfulness and grace.

To publish my autobiography was far from my thoughts.

It is a difficult, delicate, and dangerous task. One does not choose
to publish his own follies and sins, and surely it is not modest for
one to proclaim his own goodness. I will, therefore, only say in the
words of the great Apostle, “Unto me, who am less than the least of all
saints, is this grace given, that I should preach among the Gentiles
the unsearchable riches of Christ.”

Let me then ask, if in reading this narrative there shall seem to be
the weakness of egotism or of vain boasting, that the fault may lie
at the door of the writer, or be pardoned on account of the great
difficulty of relating one’s own experiences and observations without
often repeating the pronoun _I_.

On the other hand, if it shall appear that during a ministry of almost
half a century a blind man has been led into the light, a lame man has
been helped to walk in the Way of Life, a leprous soul has been washed
in the Fountain opened for sin and uncleanness; if a heathen has found
the true God, and cast away his dead idols, if a fierce cannibal has
been persuaded to cease to eat the flesh of his enemies, and taught to
trust the Son of Man for pardon, or if some who were dead in trespasses
and sins have been raised to life by the quickening power of the
Gospel, then let God have all the glory.

T. C.

CONTENTS.

I.
PAGE
Parentage, Childhood, and Early Years--Militia Service--Asahel
Nettleton--Three Years in Western New York--Sickness--Home
Again--Auburn Seminary 1

II.

Marriage--Embarkation for Hawaii--Santiago, Callao, and
Lima in 1835--Arrival in Honolulu--Passage to Hilo--Our
New Home--First Labors 17

III.

The Field--The People--Hilo District--Crossing the
Torrents--Perils of a Canoe Voyage--Puna District 29

IV.

First Tours in Hilo and Puna--The Work of 1837-38--Spontaneous
Church-Building--The Great Awakening--The Volcanic
Wave--Pastoral Experiences and Methods--The Ingathering 42

Mrs. Coan’s School for Girls--Common Schools--Medical Work--The
Sailors’ Church--Sunday Work--Visits of Foreign
Vessels--The U. S. Exploring Expedition 61

VI.

Mauna Loa--Kilauea--The Eruption of 1840--The River of
Fire--It reaches the Sea at Nanawale--Lava Chimneys--Destruction
of a Village 69

VII.

More Church-Building--Commodore Jones’s Visit--Progress
of Conversions--The Sacraments under new Conditions 82

VIII.

Arrival of Catholic Missionaries--Admiral de
Tromelin--Proselytism--Controversies with the Priests--Arrival
of the Mormons--The Reformed Catholics--Bishop Staley--Lord
George Paulet 93

IX.

Isolation of the Mission Families--Sufferings on the
Inter-Island Voyages--Their Dangers--Parting with our
Children--School Discussions and Festivals--Native
Preachers--Cheerful Givers--Changes and Improvements 110

Hawaiian Kings--The Kamehamehas--Lunalilo--Kalakaua,
the Reigning King--The Foreign Church in Hilo--Organization
of Native Churches under Native Pastors 127

XI.

Compensations--Social Pleasures--Some of our Guests and
Visitors 140

XII.

Seedling Missions--Hawaii sends out Missionaries--Need of a
Missionary Packet--The Three “Morning Stars” 154

XIII.

The Marquesas Islands--Early English and French Missions--The
Hawaiians Send a Mission to Them--My Visit in 1860--The
Marquesan Tabu System 159

XIV.

Second Visit to the Marquesas--The Paumotu Archipelago--Arrival
at Uapou--An Escape by Two Fathoms--Nuuhiva--Hivaoa--Kekela’s
Trials--The Propitiatory Canoe--Savage
Seducers--A Wild Audience 192

XV.

Visit to the United States--Salt Lake--Chicago--Washington
City--Brooklyn--Old Killingworth--Changes in the
Homestead--Passing Away--Return to Hilo--Death of Mrs.
Coan 213

XVI.

Notes on the Stations--Hawaii--Governor Kuakini--Maui--Crater
of Hale-a-ka-la--Molokai--The Leper Settlement--Oahu--Kauai--The
State of the Church 223

XVII.

The Hawaiian Character--Its Amiability--Island
Hospitality--Patience, Docility--Indolence, Lack of Economy,
Fickleness--Want of Independence--Untruthfulness--Decrease of
the Population 252

XVIII.

Kilauea--Changes in the Crater--Attempt to Measure the Heat
of its Lavas--Phenomena in Times of Great Activity--Visitors
in the Domains of Pele 262

XIX.

Eruptions from Mauna Loa--The Eruption of 1843--A Visit to
it--Danger on the Mountain--A Perilous Journey and a Narrow
Escape 270

XX.

Eruptions of Mauna Loa--The Eruption of 1852--The
Fire-Fountain--A Visit to it--Alone on the Mountain--Sights on
Mauna Loa 279

XXI.

The Eruption of 1855--A Climb to the Source--Mountain
Hardships--Visits to Lower Parts of the Lava Stream--Hilo
threatened with Destruction--Liquidity of the Hawaiian
Lavas--Are the Lava-Streams fed from their Sources only? 289

XXII.

The Eruption of 1868 from Kilauea--The March and April
Earthquakes--Land-Slips--Destruction of Life and Property--The
Lava-Stream Bursts from Underground--The Volcanic
Waves of August, 1868, and of May, 1877 313

XXIII.

The Eruption of 1880-1881--Hilo Threatened as Never Before--A
Day of Public Prayer--Visitors to the Lava-Flow--It
Approaches within a Mile of the Shore--Hope Abandoned--After
Nine Months the Action Suddenly Abates--The
Deliverance--The Mechanism of a Great Lava-Flow--An
Idolater Dislodged--Conclusion 327

_Parentage, Childhood, and Early Years--Militia Service--Asahel
Nettleton--Three Years in Western New York--Sickness--Home
Again--Auburn Seminary._

My father was Gaylord Coan, of Killingworth, Middlesex Co.,
Connecticut. He was a thoughtful, quiet, and modest farmer,
industrious, frugal, and temperate, attending to his own business,
living in peace with his neighbors, eschewing evil, honest in dealing,
avoiding debts, abhorring extravagance and profligacy, refusing
proffered offices, strictly observing the Sabbath, a regular attendant
on the services of the sanctuary, a constant reader of the Bible, and
always offering morning and evening prayers with the family. He was
born Aug. 4, 1768, and died Sept. 24, 1857, in his 90th year.

My mother was Tamza Nettleton, sister of Josiah Nettleton and aunt of
Asahel Nettleton, D.D., the distinguished Evangelical preacher. She was
the tender, faithful, and laborious mother of seven children, six sons
and one daughter. Of these I was the youngest.

While still in the vigor of womanhood, she was cut down Jan. 14, 1818,
by typhus fever, aged 58. Her death left the house desolate, and the
loss was deeply mourned by all the children.

After this our father married Miss Platt, of Saybrook, by whom he had
one daughter, who died at the age of eighteen.

I was born on the first day of February, Sunday morning, 1801, in the
town of Killingworth, Conn. My physical constitution was good, my
health was perfect, and my childhood happy.

From the age of four to twelve I was sent to the district school,
where the boys and girls were drilled in Webster’s spelling book, The
American Preceptor, writing, arithmetic (Daball’s), Morse’s geography,
Murray’s grammar, and the Westminster Shorter Catechism. Days and weeks
and years went quietly along, with the usual experiences of joyous
childhood. Spring, summer, autumn, and winter each had their peculiar
charms, their duties and diversions, and I moved along the stream with
only now and then a ripple.

Once, when a boy of about seven years, I had a memorable experience. My
father was to be absent during the day, and in the morning he said to
me, “Titus, go straight to school to-day.” When he left, some boys came
along and persuaded me to play truant. Off we started, and spent the
day in as much pleasure as we could enjoy, with some twinges of guilt
and fear. At 4 +P.M.+, the time for the school to close, I managed to
fall in with the children who were returning home.

[Sidenote: _School Days._]

Evening came--my father returned. We had supper and prayers. My
conscience throbbed a little, and I prepared for bed early. When ready
in my night-robe to leap into bed, my father called me to him. I
trembled, but obeyed. Sitting quietly in his chair, he laid me, face
downward, across his knees, took up a small birch rod and said, “Well,
Titus, you are all ready now for the reward of disobedience--you did
not go to school.” He then gave me a few salutary touches with the
birch, and I stole off to bed. That was one of the best lessons of my
childhood. It made a distinct impression upon me which I could not
forget. It worked through my skin and my flesh, and went into my heart.
I never played truant again.

Yes, I did get one more lesson which cooled my blood and made me
thoughtful. A deep mill-pond lay between my home and the school-house.
In the winter this pond was often frozen over, and my father warned
me not to venture upon the ice on my way to school. One morning when
I was nine years old, a mate of my age went with me to school. As we
came to the pond we agreed to have a little slide. We went on half-way
across the pond, I leading, and Julius following. Coming to the deepest
part of the pond, the ice broke suddenly under me and I went under the
water, but found no bottom. I rose to the surface in the same place
where I went down, and screamed for help. My companion stood aghast and
feared to come near. I threw up my hands and caught hold of the ice,
but it broke before me. Again and again I struggled to find firm hold,
but still the treacherous ice gave way until I nearly despaired of
life. At length, however, I came to firmer ice, and clung to it as with
a death grasp, calling on Julius for help. The timid boy approached
slowly until his hand reached mine; and with his help and God’s mercy
I was delivered from a watery grave. But it was midwinter, and I was
sadly chilled. To avoid freezing we ran all the way, a half mile, to
the school-house, where we found a roaring fire and the master not
there. I stood by the fire, turning round and round, and smoking like
a spare-rib, until the master came, when I took my seat and shivered
until noon. The intermission being one hour, I improved it to dry my
clothes, and went home at evening, charging my schoolmate never to tell
any one of this event. He kept his promise until I came to the Hawaiian
Islands, and then he told the story. This was another lesson which I
report with thanks to the Lord for sparing my life, and as a warning to
all children to “Obey their parents in the Lord that their days may be
long.”

But it is not necessary to enlarge on “the scenes of my childhood,”
though diversified, and very many of them “dear to my heart.”

[Sidenote: _Work and Study._]

Nor will I take time to tell all my childhood’s faults; and as for its
virtues, I have nothing of which to boast.

When about thirteen I worked with my father on the farm during the
summer months, and attended school in the winter. The next year I was
a pupil in a select school at the house of my honored and excellent
pastor, the Rev. Asa King. In this school I spent two happy winters,
while my summers were passed on the farm, or in fishing on Long Island
Sound, or for shad in early spring in the Connecticut River.

Not satisfied with my knowledge of English grammar derived from Murray
and unskilled teachers, I had private lessons from a teacher fresh from
a grammar school in the city of New York, and under his instructions
gained a more satisfactory insight into the construction of my mother
tongue than from all my winter’s study in what seemed to me dry Murray.

I also read eagerly such worthy books as I was able to buy or borrow;
few indeed, compared with the overwhelming flood of literature of
the present time. I read history, rhetoric, astronomy, philosophy,
logic, and the standard poets. I joined an Academy in East Guilford,
now Madison, where I studied with delight geometry, trigonometry,
surveying, etc., under the instruction of the Principal, an active
graduate of Yale College.

At the age of eighteen I was called to teach a school in the town
of Saybrook, and from this time onward my winters were occupied in
teaching in Saybrook, Killingworth, and Guilford, until I left New
England for Western New York.

When the time came for me to enter the militia ranks, according to the
laws of the State, I enlisted in a company of light artillery whose
regiment had been commanded by Col. Bray during the war of 1812-15, and
in which one of my brothers had served in the garrison of my native
town during that war.

In this company I was at once chosen sergeant, and in about two years
was promoted, receiving first the commission of 2d Lieut., then that of
1st Lieut.

I had been dazzled, while a boy, with the tales of military and naval
exploits, with the flashing of sabers, the waving of plumes, and with
the beauty of uniforms. It had been my delight to watch the evolutions
of cavalry, artillery, and militia regiments on days of drill and of
general review. I had seen the proud war-ships of Britain driving the
fishing-boats, the sloops, schooners, brigs, barks, ships, all the
floating commerce of Long Island Sound, into our rivers, lagoons, bays,
creeks, and harbors. I had seen the flashes and heard the thunder of
their guns; had been wakened at midnight by the alarm-bells of the
town, and the quick fire of the garrison. I had heard of Canada,
of Buffalo, of the Northern and Southern Lakes, of the Potomac,
of Washington, of New Orleans, and of the peace with its joyful
celebrations, and its thunder-notes of gladness rolling over the land.

[Sidenote: _Asahel Nettleton._]

Afterward, when all this died out, and a more rational, a calmer
and purer peace spread over land and sea, there came a change in my
military feelings and aspirations.

While absent from my native town, a memorable season of religious
interest was awakened among all classes in Killingworth.

The Rev. Asahel Nettleton, whose fame as an evangelical preacher
has spread over the land, was invited to return to the place of his
birth, to preach the Gospel to his kindred and townsmen. He came, and
the “Power of the Highest” came with him. Our pastor, Mr. King, was
heart and soul with him. Sinai thundered the law, and Calvary cried
pardon to the penitent. “The axe was laid at the root of the trees”
and the winnowing fan was seen in the hand of the Eternal. Conversions
multiplied. Profanity was hushed. Revelry ceased. “Young men” became
“sober-minded.” The fiddle and the midnight dance were superseded by
the “Village Hymns,” the “Songs of Zion,” the quiet sanctuary, and the
tender, the loving, and the happy prayer-meeting. All things became
new. I heard the fame of them, but was absent. In childhood, tender
and anxious religious thought had often filled my eyes with tears, and
my heart with throbs. I had prayed under the shadows of rocks and lone
trees, but no man knew my spiritual wants or met them. I regretted my
absence from Killingworth while my kind pastor and own beloved cousin
were thus leading thirsty souls to the Fountain of Life. I returned
just in time to see 110 of my companions and neighbors stand up in the
sanctuary and confess the Lord Jehovah to be their Lord and Saviour,
and pledge themselves to love, follow, and obey Him.

I was thoughtful and sober, but passed on much as usual in the ordinary
affairs of life.

In the spring of 1826, with a friend and my sister, I left my native
home in a private carriage, and went via Middletown, Hartford,
Stockbridge, Albany, and Schenectady to Rochester, taking the Erie
Canal at Schenectady and leaving our friend to go on in the carriage.

I had then four brothers in Western New York; the oldest, the Rev.
George Coan, had received that summer a call from the Presbyterian
church at Riga, in Monroe County, to become its pastor. This call he
accepted, and at the same time I was engaged to teach the large school
near the church. Here I often met excellent pastors of the surrounding
churches, whose preaching, religious conversation, and personal
friendship awakened afresh the pious longings of my soul. Most of
these pastors are now in heaven, and I know of but one who is still
living, and now more than four-score years old. His letters of love
still come to me fresh as the dews of Mount Zion.

[Sidenote: _Fidelia Church._]

During this summer of 1826 I often rode by a school-house in a western
district of Riga, and through the windows I saw a face that beamed on
me like that of an angel. The image was deeply impressed, and is still
ineffaceable.

On inquiry, the young lady proved to be Miss Fidelia Church, of
Churchville. I often saw her sunlit face in the choir on the Sabbath,
for she was a sweet singer, but I did not make her acquaintance for
many months.

During the summer of 1827, after the close of my winter-school, I
opened a select-school in Riga, and Fidelia applied for admittance. In
this I rejoiced greatly, for it gave me a good opportunity to mark the
character of her mind, which proved bright and receptive, and to become
acquainted with her moral and social characteristics.

I was called again to teach the central school during the winter of
1827-8, and though I had not yet united with the visible Church, I was
elected and urged to become superintendent of the Sabbath-school, which
I reluctantly accepted under the firm resolve to spend the remainder
of my days, not in doubting and inactivity, but in doing what I could
to bless my fellow mortals, and to honor God. And in this resolution,
which formed an era in my life, I was greatly helped, comforted, and
established, so that duty done for Christ was a sweet and joyous
pleasure.

On the 2d day of March, 1828, I was received to the fellowship of
the Presbyterian church in Riga, then under the pastoral care of my
brother. Although I had now publicly devoted myself to the service of
the Master, my profession was not yet chosen.

Soon after this union with the church, I visited Medina, a young and
promising village west of Albion, in Orleans County, where one of my
brothers was established in mercantile business. As this brother had
long urged me to connect myself with him in his business, I went to
look into it and to consider his offer. I spent the summer and winter
with him.

Here work for the Master opened before me. The town was new, the
inhabitants were from different parts, and of various professions and
religious opinions. But notwithstanding this, there was much harmony
in the village, so that, if a Methodist, a Baptist, a Presbyterian,
an Episcopalian, or a Congregational minister came along and was
invited to preach, a large portion of the people united harmoniously in
listening to the Gospel; and when there was no clergyman, the layman
professors kept up Sabbath services in reading sermons, and with
exhortation and prayer. I was appointed Sunday-school superintendent,
and this with visiting the sick, attending funerals, and assisting the
brethren in religious services, opened just such a field of labor as I
needed.

[Sidenote: _Choosing a Path._]

As winter approached I was again pressed into school-teaching, spending
outside hours with my brother in the store.

Still I had not chosen my life-work. Four paths lay before me. My
brother wished me to become his partner in the mercantile business. A
good physician in Rochester, and several in other places, advised me to
become a physician, offering to teach me free of charge. Some said I
was made for a school teacher, and many clergymen and Christian laymen
urged me to go into the Gospel ministry.

What should I do? What could I do? The subject pressed heavily upon
my mind and heart. I said that teaching is pleasant in youth, but for
_life_ it would not satisfy me. As for the medical profession, I was
not adapted to it, and I dared not make the trial. But how of the
sacred ministry? I felt utterly unfit and unworthy--my natural talent,
education, piety, were all unequal to the exalted calling. As Moses,
Isaiah, and Jeremiah shrank from the offices of legislator and prophet,
so I from being an ambassador of Christ, yet I was willing to work hard
as a layman, and even longed to go as a servant among the heathen, to
help the honored missionaries. Thus my spirit labored under a burden
which none but God knew, and to find relief, I decided to be an active
and devoted layman; to return to Connecticut, finish up my business
there, and then settle down to a mercantile life in Medina.

In April, 1829, I left Medina for the East, and in Bergen met, by
agreement, an old and faithful friend, the Rev. H. Halsey, who had been
chosen by his Presbytery a representative to the General Assembly of
the Presbyterian Church, which was to meet in Philadelphia the coming
May. With him I agreed to visit Philadelphia, attend the sessions
of the General Assembly, and then go on to Connecticut. We took the
canal-boat at Rochester, and on the next day I had a shake of ague,
followed by a fever. We had no doctor and no medicines, and I kept
quiet, thinking to brave it out.

On the next Saturday we reached Syracuse, my ague shakes becoming
more positive. We left the boat and went to Onondaga Hollow, spending
the Sabbath and Monday with the Principal of an Academy, who was
brother-in-law to Mr. Halsey. Here the ague was heavy and I had little
comfort.

On Tuesday we went on to Albany, and thence by steamer to New York; my
chills and fever growing all the while more and more intense. Here I
gave up going to Philadelphia, parting reluctantly with my companion.
Taking passage up the Sound, I went to Madison, where I had friends. I
was then so prostrated I could go no farther, and was laid at once on
a bed of weakness, from which I did not rise for four months. A good
physician and kind friends ministered to me daily, but the disease held
me fast until I was wasted to a skeleton, so that I could not sit in
an easy-chair without fainting while my bed was being made. This was a
time for reflection.

[Sidenote: _The Decision._]

When the cold winds of autumn came, the disease relaxed, and I was
taken carefully in an easy carriage to my father’s house, only seven
miles distant. Here I was ill until the last of October. I then rose
through the mercy of God, and was offered the school where my cousin
Nettleton and where all my brothers and sisters had been taught their A
B C.

During all that winter there was a cheering revival in the town and in
my school, and many of my pupils were hopefully born again. This was
the best year of my life up to that time. It was the turning point,
the day of decision. It was the voice of God to me. I could no longer
doubt. I had purposed and the Lord had disappointed. I had chosen, but
He had other work for me. I said, Lead me, Saviour. Tell me where to go
and what to do, and I will _go_ and _do_.

On my return to Western New York I had a free consultation with many
ministerial friends, and all advised me to pursue a short course of
preparatory study, and enter Auburn Theological Seminary.

I had formed a pleasant acquaintance with the Rev. Lewis Cheeseman,
while he was pastor of a church in Albion. He then seemed like a young
Apollos, fervid, eloquent, and impressive. He had now settled in Byron
and was preaching with great power and success. He invited me to study
and labor with him, as an interesting work of grace was in progress,
not only in Byron, but in Rochester and many other towns of that region.

Accordingly I spent the summer of 1830 in his family, studying and
laboring in the revival; sometimes meeting the Rev. Charles Finney.

In the autumn an earnest invitation came to me from the Rev. David Page
and the church in Knoxville, to come and labor there. I accepted the
invitation, and spent the winter and spring in that place, continuing
my classical studies, and assisting the pastor, and conducting
evening meetings in surrounding villages. The religious interest was
widespread, the meetings were full and solemn, consciences were tender,
and many were turned to the Lord.

On the first day of June, 1831, I entered the middle class of Auburn
Theological Seminary.

The faculty then consisted of the Rev. Doctors Richards, Perrine, and
Mills, all noble men and fine scholars.

[Sidenote: _Prison Work._]

Here the months and seasons flowed pleasantly along, and I was very
happy in my studies, in the society of the students and in the
instructions of the professors. Every Sabbath morning I went with
other students to teach the convicts in the Auburn State Prison,
numbering seven or eight hundred, and for a year or more I had the
office of Superintendent of the prison Sunday-school. This work was
very interesting, as I had personal access to every class and to every
individual. Many confessed to deeds and purposes of great depravity,
and some professed a radical change of heart. About 200 professed
conversion. A few of these I afterward met in Rochester and Albany,
of gentlemanly bearing, and in citizen’s dress. I did not recognize
the men whom I had known in the convict’s garb, until they gave me
their names. I was rejoiced to find them members of Sunday-schools and
churches, in good business, and happily settled in life.

On the 17th of April, 1833, I was licensed to preach the Gospel by the
Presbytery of Cayuga County, at a meeting in Auburn.

I was then invited to preach during the summer vacation in one of the
churches in Rochester, while the pastor was absent as a delegate to the
General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in Philadelphia.

At the close of the vacation, as I was about to return to Auburn, the
elders of the church in which I had labored put the following paper
into my hands:

+Rochester+, _July 8, 1833_.

Rev. +Titus Coan+:

_Dear Sir_:--In behalf of the First Free Presbyterian Church and
Congregation of Rochester, we present you this testimonial of our
entire satisfaction of your ministerial labors among us during the
absence of our beloved pastor, Rev. Luke Lyons, who was called from
us to attend the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in
Philadelphia.

You may rest assured that we shall remember you in our prayers, and
may the Lord abundantly reward you for your labors of love among us,
guide you by His counsel, and make you eminently useful in promoting
the Redeemer’s Kingdom in whatever situation you may be placed.

We are, dear sir, your friends and brethren in Christ our Lord.

(Signed), +A. W. Riley+,
+Elisha Ely+,
+Nathan Lyman+,
+Manly G. Woodbury+.

It was but a few days after my entrance upon my last term at the
Seminary, when a letter from the Rev. Rufus Anderson, Secretary of the
A. B. C. F. M., called me to Boston to be ordained, and to sail on a
mission of exploration to Patagonia, on which expedition I embarked on
the 16th of August, 1833. An account of this trip may be found in my
“Adventures in Patagonia.”

II.

_Marriage--Embarkation for Hawaii--Santiago, Callao, and Lima in
1835--Arrival in Honolulu--Passage to Hilo--Our New Home--First
Labors._

On returning from Patagonia I landed in New London, Conn., May 7, 1834.
During all the long months of my absence in the South, not a word
had come to me from friends, nor had any tidings from me reached the
land of my birth. There had been many fond recollections and tender
heart-longings, and quires of paper had been filled, but no breath of
heaven, no bird of the air had wafted these yearnings, these burning
thoughts from North to South, and from South to North. Over the
Atlantic or the vast continent no answer had come to anxious inquiries,
no echo to calls of love.

But the perils of the sea and of the howling wilderness of savages were
now past, and I was in the land of liberty, of light, and of Christian
love.

I went to Boston and reported; to Killingworth, to surprise with joy my
aged and mourning father; and to Middlebury in Vermont to find the one
whom I had chosen, and who had waited patiently and without change of
object or of purpose, for seven long years to welcome this glad day.

She was then teaching with the dear mother Cooke, in the Middlebury
Female Seminary.

She went with me to her father’s house in Churchville, where on the
3d of Nov., 1834, we were married in the church on Monthly Concert
evening. On Nov. 4th we left for Boston, visiting friends in New York
and Connecticut by the way.

On the 23d of November we received our instructions as missionaries to
the Sandwich Islands, in Park Street church, together with Miss Lydia
Brown, Miss Elizabeth Hitchcock, Mr. Henry Dimond and wife, and Mr. and
Mrs. Edwin O. Hall.

On the same occasion a company of twelve missionaries, destined to
Southeastern Africa, received their instructions. The house was packed
and the occasion was one of great interest.

On the 5th of December, 1834, we embarked on board the merchant
ship _Hellespont_, Capt. John Henry, and bade farewell to Boston,
to hundreds of dear and precious friends, to our dear country, not
expecting ever to see them again. On the 6th we awoke and looked in
vain for land. City, hills, mountains, had sunk in the ocean, and
nothing outside of the dancing _Hellespont_ was seen but the ethereal
vault and the boundless blue sea.

We plunged into the Gulf Stream and were handled roughly by current
and wind and foaming wave. The wild winds howled, the clouds thickened
and darkened, and the tempest raged.

[Sidenote: _Fellow Missionaries._]

Our good ship labored, plunged, rose, trembled, plunged and rose again
amidst the foaming billows, shaking off the feathery spray like a
sea-lion, and rushing along her watery way with grandeur. In the night
her shining pathway was all aglow with countless, sparkling brilliants.
Our voyage soon became pleasant. The weather was favorable, the captain
attentive and kind, the officers faithful, and the crew obedient and
respectful. Our seasickness vanished, our skies brightened, and we were
a happy family, daily becoming better acquainted with each other. Miss
Brown was a maiden lady from New Hampshire, of true devotion to the
work of the Lord. She was appointed to the Islands to teach the women
of Hawaii domestic duties, such as carding, spinning, weaving, etc., in
connection with a civilizing Christianity. Miss Hitchcock was also a
maiden lady, well educated and pious. One of her brothers was already
an active missionary on the Islands, and she was going out to assist
in teaching. She afterward married Mr. Edmund H. Rogers, a missionary
printer.

Mr. Dimond came as a book-binder. His good wife was Miss Ann Anner,
of New York City. Both of them are now living. Mr. E. O. Hall was a
printer from Rochester, N. Y. He also found his wife in New York City,
a Miss Williams, a devoted lady. Mrs. Hall died a few years ago.

This united circle held morning and evening devotions, and our days
were spent in reading, writing, and social intercourse. On Sabbaths
when the weather was favorable we had preaching, at which service the
captain, officers, and crew were present.

But I need not detain the reader with a third voyage in the Atlantic.
Enough to say that we passed pleasantly along to the South, sinking the
Northern constellations one by one, and raising the Southern, seeing no
Equatorial line, no Neptune, and no land until the hills of Terra del
Fuego lifted their snowy heads upon us above the clouds. I had longed
to see the wild coast of Patagonia and the Falkland Islands, where
only a year before I had roamed with the savage tribes, or found more
comforts among the whalers and sealers of those southern islets. But we
passed between the Continent and the Islands, descrying neither.

My heart mourned for this land of Patagonia, a land on which the
shadows of death had always rested, and where no day had yet dawned.

We passed through the Strait of Le Maire, and with all sails set, in a
balmy and bright summer day sailed very near the dreaded Cape Horn.

[Sidenote: _The Voyage--Santiago._]

Only a day after we had set our studding sails and spread all our
canvas, a stormy wind took us far toward the Southern Cross and the
ice mountains of the Antarctic. But in a few days, more favoring gales
hurried us Northward again, and on the 8th of March the joyful sound of
“land ho!” thrilled all on board, and the lofty Cordillera chain stood
out in grandeur before us. It was Chili, and the city of Valparaiso was
in sight. We came into the roadstead, dropped anchor, furled sails,
congratulated one another, and blessed the Lord for a safe passage thus
far.

As the _Hellespont_ was to remain in port about twenty days, Mr. Dimond
and I engaged a carriage and driver, and made a trip to Santiago, the
capital of Chili, about 100 miles inland and near the foot-hills of the
Andes. Our ride was very exhilarating. This city is one of the most
beautiful in South America, well watered from the mountain snows, and
well shaded with trees. On our way we passed over high hills and broad
plains. The roads over these hills were wide and cut in zigzag lines,
with ample terraces or resting-places at the angles. On ascending one
of these lofty hills at early dawn, we descried the heads of two men,
recently severed, each nailed to a high post at different places,
and grinning ghastly upon us. Our driver told us that these men were
highway robbers and murderers; that they had, on going up this hill,
perpetrated the vilest of crimes, killed a husband and his wife, with
two children, stolen their baggage, clothes, and horse, and thrown the
dead bodies into a deep ravine below; and for these horrid crimes
their heads had been made beacons of warning to all who passed along
this road.

We left Valparaiso on the 27th of March, and anchored in the harbor
of Callao, Peru, on the 6th of April, 1835. Here we spent twenty-one
days, giving us opportunity of going on shore as often as we desired,
of visiting Lima, of attending the gorgeous ceremonies of Passion Week,
of looking into the grand Cathedral and their splendid churches, and
of noticing the monuments of art, and the scars of revolution in that
renowned, but often suffering, desecrated, and vandalized city.

With the courteous Bishop of Lima, we went through the Cathedral, he
bowing and crossing himself as he passed by the various pictures and
statues, telling us of the guardian care of the different saints over
the city.

We left Callao on the 27th of April, saw the mountains of Hawaii on
the 5th of June, and on the 6th landed in Honolulu. The Hawaiian
mission was then in session, and on the arrival of the _Hellespont_,
the mission appointed a committee of three to meet us on board, while
the meeting was adjourned, and a large part of the members with wives
and children came down to the wharf to welcome us, and to escort us
to the house of the Rev. Hiram Bingham. The welcome was warm and
warmly reciprocated, and the meeting was joyful. It seemed to us
_apostolical_. We regarded these veteran toilers with a feeling of
veneration. Some looked vigorous and strong, others seemed pallid and
wayworn. Here were the fathers and mothers in Israel, and here the
brothers and sisters, with flocks of precious children. We rejoiced
that we were permitted to be numbered with this honored and happy
family. We all united in a hymn of praise and thanksgiving to God, and
then knelt in prayer.

[Sidenote: _A Month in Honolulu._]

The new reinforcement united in the daily meetings of the mission
until the closing of its sessions, when we went forth to our appointed
stations; my wife and I to Hilo, Hawaii, with Mr. and Mrs. Lyman.

We embarked at Honolulu, in the schooner _Velocity_, falsely so-called,
on the 6th of July. The schooner was small, a slow sailer, dirty,
crowded with more than one hundred passengers, mostly natives, and
badly managed. The captain was an Irishman given to hard drinking.

We sailed from Honolulu on Monday. The sea was rough and nearly all of
the passengers were very seasick. Our first port was Lahaina, eighty
miles from Honolulu, where we were to land Mr. and Mrs. Richards,
Dr. and Mrs. Chapin, Mr. and Mrs. Spaulding, and other families. On
Wednesday morning the captain announced that the land just ahead
was Maui, and that we should all land in about an hour at Lahaina,
where we might rest a day, bathe, eat grapes and watermelons, and be
refreshed for the rest of the voyage, about 150 miles further.

But the poor captain’s eyes were dazed, and he had lost his reckoning.
We had gone about in the night and we were back at Honolulu! This fact
came upon us with a shock of agony. After such seasickness as some
of us had never before endured, the dreadful thought came over us,
“Shall we ever reach our homes on this vessel and with this master?”
Many of us had tasted neither food nor water from Monday to Wednesday,
and all had lain crowded on a dirty deck, exposed to wind, rain, and
wave, and how could we live to reach our destination? But there was
no alternative. We said _go_, and the dull _Velocity_ went about and
headed again for Lahaina, where we landed passengers, and on the
21st we saw the emerald beauty of Hilo, and disembarked with joy and
thanksgiving. Hundreds of laughing natives thronged the beach, seized
our hands, gave us the hearty “_Aloha_” and followed us up to the house
of our good friends, Mr. and Mrs. Lyman, who were with us to comfort
and inform us all the way.

[Sidenote: _Hilo and Hilo Bay._]

The bay of Hilo is a beautiful, spacious, and safe harbor. The outline
of its beach is a crescent like the moon in her first quarter. The
beach is composed of fine, volcanic sand, mixed with a little coral
and earth. On its eastern and western sides, and in its center, it is
divided by three streams of pure water; it has a deep channel about
half a mile wide, near the western shore, sufficiently deep to admit
the largest ship that floats. Seaward it is protected by a lava reef
one mile from the shore. This reef was formed by a lateral stream of
lava, sent out at right angles from a broad river of molten rocks that
formed our eastern coast. This reef is a grand barrier against the
swell of the ocean. Lord Byron, who visited Hilo, when he brought home
the corpses of King Liholiho and his queen, gave the name of “Byron’s
Bay” to this harbor, but that name is nearly obsolete.

The beach was once beautifully adorned with the cocoa palm, whose lofty
plumes waved and rustled and glittered in the fresh sea-breeze. Beyond
our quiet bay the broad, blue ocean foams or sleeps, with a surface
sometimes shining like molten silver, tumbling in white foam, or gently
throbbing as with the pulsations of life.

Inland, from the shore to the bases of the mountains, the whole
landscape is “arrayed in living green,” presenting a picture of
inimitable beauty, so varied in tint, so grooved with water channels,
and so sparkling with limpid streams and white foaming cascades, as to
charm the eye, and cause the beholder to exclaim, “This _is_ a scene of
surpassing loveliness.”

Behind all this in the background, tower the lofty, snow-mantled
mountains, Kea and Loa, out of one of which rush volcanic fires. At
the first sight we were charmed with the beauty and the grandeur of the
scene, and we exclaimed, “Surely the lines are fallen to us in pleasant
places, and we have a goodly heritage.”

We were satisfied, yes more, we were _delighted_, with our location,
and to this day we bless the Lord that He inclined the minds of the
mission to assign us to this field of labor. In this, as in all the
past, we see the guiding hand of Him who has promised to “direct the
steps” of all who “commit their way to Him.”

Hilo had then but one framed house. It was a low, two-story building in
the style of a New England farm-house, built and occupied by the Rev.
Joseph Goodrich, a good and faithful missionary of the A. B. C. F. M.

Mr. Lyman’s home, into which we were received, was a small, stone
house, with walls laid up with mud, and a thatched roof. Each family
had but one room about fifteen feet square.

Mr. Goodrich, with his family, left Hilo in November for the United
States, not to return, and we were advised to occupy his house, which
with later additions and improvements has been our habitation ever
since.

Mr. Lyman soon built a comfortable house near us, and the old
stone-and-mud hut was devoted to a school-room.

[Sidenote: _Work and Study._]

By the advice of the Lymans, who had been two years in Hilo, and whose
experience and wise counsel were of great use to us, we at once began
teaching a school of about a hundred almost naked boys and girls, being
ourselves pupils of a good man named Barnabas, who patiently drilled us
daily in the language of his people. By reading, trying to talk, teach
and write, we crept along, without grammar or dictionary, the mist
lifting slowly before us, until at the end of three months from our
arrival, I went into the pulpit with Mr. Lyman, and preached my first
sermon in the native language. Soon after, I made a tour with him into
Puna, one wing of our field, and then through the district of Hilo, in
an opposite direction. These tours introduced me to the people for whom
I was to labor, and with whom I had a burning desire to communicate
freely, and helped me greatly in acquiring the language.

The General Meeting at Honolulu in June had advised Mr. Lyman and
myself to establish a boarding-school for boys, leaving to us the
question as to which of us should be the principal of the school, and
which the traveling missionary.

He chose the school as his chief work, and I the pastoral and preaching
department. Our labors, however, were not separated for a long time,
he preaching always when I was absent on tours, and often when I was
at home; we always worked in harmony. After a year or two, the school
being enlarged and important, Mr. Lyman requested the mission to accept
his resignation of the joint pastorate of the church and to appoint me
as the sole pastor. This was done harmoniously, and we have labored
side by side until the present day, mutually assisting, and rejoicing
in the success of all departments of the service.

Under the efficient care of Mr. and Mrs. Lyman the school has been a
great success. Its department of manual labor is an important feature
in the institution. It has given a very valuable physical training to
the boys, imparting to them skill and health, and making the school
nearly self-supporting. The young men are well dressed, neat and manly
in their appearance, and give evidence of an elevation above the
common masses around them. In all, the Seminary has graduated about
one thousand pupils. Many of them are among the most useful members of
society, and some of them have become legislators, judges, teachers,
Christian ministers, foreign missionaries, etc.

Mr. Lyman, feeling obliged through declining health to resign his
office as Principal, the Rev. W. B. Oleson was appointed in September,
1878, as his successor.

III.

_The Field--The People--Hilo District--Crossing the
Torrents--Perils of a Canoe Voyage--Puna District._

The field in which I was called to labor is a belt of land extending by
the coast-line 100 miles on the north-east, east, and south-east shore
of Hawaii, including the districts of Hilo and Puna, and a part of Kau.

The inhabited belt is one to three miles wide, and in a few places
there were hamlets and scattering villages five to ten miles inland.
Beyond this narrow shore belt there is a zone of forest trees with a
tropical jungle from ten to twenty-five miles wide, almost impenetrable
by man or beast. Still higher is another zone of open country girdling
the bases of the mountains, with a rough surface of hill, dale, ravine,
scoriaceous lava fields, rocky ridges, and plains and hills of pasture
land. Here wild goats, wild cattle, with hogs and wild geese feed.
Still higher up tower Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa, nearly 14,000 feet above
the sea, the former being a pile of extinct craters, often crowned
with snow, and the latter a mountain of fire, where for unknown ages
earthquakes that rock the group and convulse the ocean have been born,
and where volcanoes burst out with awful roar, and rush in fiery rivers
down the mountain sides, across the open plains, through the blazing
forest jungle and into the sea. All but the narrow shore belt is left
to untamed bird and beast, and to the wild winds and raging fires of
the mountains, except when bird-catchers, canoe-makers, cattle-hunters,
or volcano visitors are drawn thither by their several interests from
the shore.

The population of this shore belt was probably at that time about
15,000 to 16,000, almost exclusively natives. Very few foreigners had
then come here to live. Several missionaries had resided in Hilo for
short periods, but none had settled here permanently except Mr. and
Mrs. Lyman. Occasional tours had been made through Hilo and Puna, and
the Gospel had been preached in most of the villages. Schools had also
been established through the districts and a goodly number could read
and write. Some pupils were in the elements of arithmetic, and many
committed lessons in the Scriptures to memory.

Forms of idolatry were kept out of sight, but superstition and
ignorance, hypocrisy and most of the lower vices prevailed. The people
were all slaves to their chiefs, and no man but a chief owned a foot
of land, a tree, a pig, a fowl, his wife, children, or himself.
All belonged to his chief and could be taken at will, if anger or
covetousness or lust called for them. I have seen families by the score
turned out of their dwellings, all their effects seized, and they sent
off wailing, to seek shelter and food where they could. “On the side of
the oppressor there was power, but the poor man had no comforter.”

[Sidenote: _Hilo District._]

+Hilo+, the northern wing of this field, is a district including about
thirty miles of its shore line. It is covered with a deep rich soil,
clothed with perennial green of every shade, watered with the rain of
heaven, and grooved by about eighty water channels that run on an angle
of some three degrees, leaping over hundreds of precipices of varied
heights, from three or four feet to 500, and plunging into the sea over
a cliff rising in height, from the sand beach of the town, to 700 or
800 feet along the northern coast-line.

For many years after our arrival there were no roads, no bridges, and
no horses in Hilo, and all my tours were made on foot. These were three
or four annually through Hilo, and as many in Puna; the time occupied
in making them was usually ten to twenty days for each trip.

In passing through the district of Hilo, the weather was sometimes fine
and the rivers low, so that there was little difficulty in traveling.
The path was a simple trail, winding in a serpentine line, going down
and up precipices, some of which could only be descended and ascended
by grasping the shrubs and grasses, and with no little weariness and
difficulty and some danger.

But the streams were the most formidable obstacles. In great rains,
which often occurred on my tours, when the winds rolled in the heavy
clouds from the sea, and massed them in dark banks on the side of the
mountain, the waters would fall in torrents at the head of the streams
and along their channels, and the rush and the roar as the floods came
down were like the thunder of an army charging upon the foe.

I have sometimes sat on the high bank of a streamlet, not more than
fifteen to twenty feet wide, conversing with natives in the bright
sunshine, when suddenly a portentous roaring, “Like the sound of many
waters, or like the noise of the sea when the waves thereof roar,”
fell upon my ears, and looking up-stream, I have seen a column of
turbid waters six feet deep coming down like the flood from a broken
mill-dam. The natives would say to me, “_Awiwi! awiwi!_ o paa oe i ka
wai”--“_Quick! quick!_ or the waters will stop you.”

Rushing down the bank I would cross over, dry-shod, where in two
minutes more there was no longer any passage for man or beast. But I
rarely waited for the rivers to run by. My appointments for preaching
were all sent forward in a line for thirty or sixty miles, designating
the day, and usually the hours, when I would be at a given station, and
by breaking one of these links the whole chain would be disturbed.
It therefore seemed important that every appointment should be kept,
whatever the inconvenience might be to me. In traveling, my change of
raiment was all packed in one calabash, or large gourd, covered by the
half of another; a little food was in a second calabash. With these
gourds one may travel indefinitely in the heaviest rains while all is
dry within. Faithful natives carried my little supplies.

[Sidenote: _Foot-Touring._]

I had several ways of crossing the streams.

1st. When the waters were low, large rocks and boulders, common in all
the water-channels, were left bare, so that with a stick or pole eight
or ten feet long, I leaped from rock to rock over the giddy streams
and crossed dry-shod: these same poles helping me to climb up, and to
let myself down steep precipices, and to leap ditches six to eight
feet wide. 2d. When the streams were not too deep and too swift I
waded them; and 3d, when not too deep, but too swift, I mounted upon
the shoulders of a sturdy aquatic native, holding on to his bushy
hair, when he moved carefully down the slippery bank of the river,
leaning up-stream against a current of ten knots, and moving one foot
at a time, sideways among the slimy boulders in the bottom, and then
bringing the other foot carefully up. Thus slowly feeling his way
across, he would land me safe with a shout and a laugh on the opposite
bank. But this is a fearful way of crossing, for the cataracts are so
numerous, the waters so rapid, and the uneven bottom so slippery, that
the danger of falling is imminent, and the recovery from a fall often
impossible, the current hurrying one swiftly over a precipice into
certain destruction. Both natives and foreigners have thus lost their
lives in these streams, and among them three of the members of the Hilo
church who have traveled and labored and prayed with me.

I once crossed a full and powerful river in this way, not more than
fifty feet above a cataract of 426 feet in height, with a basin forty
feet deep below, where this little Niagara has thundered for ages. A
missionary brother of another station seeing me landed safely, and
knowing that this crossing would save about six miles of hard and muddy
walking, followed me on the shoulders of the same bold native that took
me over. But before he had reached the middle of the rushing flood,
he trembled and cried out with fear. The bearer said, “Hush! hush! be
still, or we perish together.” The brother still trembling, the native
with great difficulty managed to reach a rock in the center of the
river, and on this he seated his burden, commanding him to be quiet
and sit there until he was cool (he was already drenched with rain and
river-spray), when he would take him off, which he did in about ten
minutes and landed him safely by my side.

[Sidenote: _Crossing Torrents._]

This mode of crossing the streams, however, was too dangerous, and I
soon abandoned it.

A fourth mode was for a sufficient number of strong men to form a chain
across the river. They made a line, locking hands on the bank; with
heads bending up-stream entering the water carefully, and moving slowly
until the head of the line reached good foothold near the opposite
bank. With my hands upon the shoulders of the men I passed along this
chain of bones, sinews, and muscles and arrived in safety on the other
side.

The fifth and safest, and in fact the only possible way to cross some
of these rivers when swollen and raging, was to throw a rope across the
stream, and fasten it to trees or rocks on either side; grasping it
firmly with both hands, my feet thrown down-stream, I drew myself along
the line and gained the opposite bank. This I sometimes did without
removing shoes or garments, then walked on to my next station, and
preached in wet clothes, continuing my travels and labors until night;
when in dry wrappings I slept well, and was all ready for work the next
day.

I was once three hours in crossing one river. The day was cold and
rainy, and I was soaked before I entered the stream. This was so wide
at the only possible crossing point, that we were unable to throw a
line across, even with a weight attached to the end of it. The raging,
roaring, and tossing of the waters were fearful, and the sight of
it made me shudder. Kind natives collected on both banks by scores,
with ropes and courage to help. The fearful rapids, running probably
twenty miles an hour, were before us. Fifty feet below us was a fall
of some twenty feet, and about 100 yards further down was a thundering
cataract, where the river was compressed within a narrow gorge with a
clear plunge of about eighty feet.

Our natives tried all their skill and strength, but could not throw
the line across. At length a daring man went up-stream close to a
waterfall, took the end of the rope in his teeth, mounted a rock,
calculated his chances of escape from the cataracts below, and leaped
into the flood; down, down he went quivering and struggling till he
reached the opposite shore only a few feet above the fall, over which
it must have been a fatal plunge had he gone. But by his temerity,
which I should have forbidden, had I known it in season, a passage was
provided for me.

After years had passed, and a little had been done toward making
roads, I purchased a horse, and tried to get him over these streams by
swimming or hauling him over with ropes. Twice when I attempted to go
over in the saddle, his foot caught between two rocks in the middle
of the stream, and horse and rider were saved only by the energy and
fidelity of the natives.

[Sidenote: _Canoe-Trips._]

Once in going up a steep precipice in a narrow pass between a rocky
height on one hand and a stream close on the other, my horse fell over
backward and lay with his head down and his feet in the air, so wedged
and so wounded that he could never have escaped from his position,
had not a company of natives for whom I sent came to the rescue and
extricated the poor, faithful animal from his rocky bed. I escaped
instant death by sliding out of the saddle upon the narrow bank of the
stream, before the back of my horse struck between the rocks. He was so
hurt that I was obliged to leave him to recover.

In order to save time and escape the weariness of the road and the
dangers of the rivers, I sometimes took a canoe at the end of my tours
to return home by the water. This trip required six to eight hours, and
was usually made in the night.

On three occasions my peril was great. One description will suffice
for all; for although the difficulties and escapes were at different
points along a precipitous and lofty sea-wall, yet the causes of
danger were the same, viz.: stormy winds, raging billows, and want of
landing-places.

About midway between our starting-place and Hilo harbor, we were met
by a strong head-wind, with pouring rain and tumultuous waves in a
dark midnight. We were half a mile from land, but could hear the roar
and see the flashing of the white surf as it dashed against the rocky
walls. We could not land, we could not sail, we could not row forward
or backward. All we could do was to keep the prow of the canoe to the
wind, and bail. Foaming seas dashed against our frail cockleshell,
pouring in buckets of brine. Thus we lay about five hours, anxious
as they “who watch for the morning.” At length it dawned; we looked
through the misty twilight to the rock-bound shore where “the waves
dashed high.” A few doors of native huts opened and men crawled out. We
called, but no echo came. We made signals of distress. We were seen and
numbers came down to the cliffs and gazed at us. We waved our garments
for them to come off to our help. They feared, they hesitated. We were
opposite the mouth of a roaring river, where the foam of breakers
dashed in wild fury. At last four naked men came down from the cliff,
plunged into the sea, dived under one towering wave after another,
coming out to breathe between the great rolling billows, and thus
reached our canoe. Ordering the crew to swim to the land, they took
charge of the canoe themselves because they knew the shore. Meanwhile
men stood on the high bluffs with kapa cloth in hand to signal to the
boat-men when to strike for the mouth of the river. They waited long
and watched the tossing waves as they rolled in and thundered upon the
shore, and when at last a less furious wave came behind us, the shore
men waved the signals and cried out, “_Hoi! hoi!_” and as the waves
lifted the stern of our canoe, all the paddles struck the water, while
the steerer kept the canoe straight on her course, and thus mounted on
this crested wave as on an ocean chariot, with the feathery foam flying
around us, we rode triumphantly into the mouth of the river, where we
were received with shouts of gladness by the throng who had gathered to
witness our escape. Then two rows of strong men waded into the surf up
to their arm-pits to receive our canoe and bear it in triumph to the
shore.

[Sidenote: _Puna District._]

Praising the Lord for His goodness, and thanking the kind natives for
their agency in delivering me, I walked the rest of the way home.

The district of Puna lies east and south of Hilo, and its physical
features are remarkably different from those of the neighboring
district.

Its shore line, including its bends and flexures, is more than seventy
miles in extent. For three miles inland from the sea it is almost a
dead level, with a surface of pahoehoe or field lava, and _a-a_ or
scoriaceous lava, interspersed with more or less rich volcanic soil
and tropical verdure, and sprinkled with sand-dunes and a few cone
and pit-craters. Throughout its length it is marked with ancient lava
streams, coming down from Kilauea and entering the sea at different
points along the coast. These lava streams vary in width from half a
mile to two or three miles. From one to three miles from the shore the
land rises rapidly into the great volcanic dome of Mauna Loa (Long
Mountain). The highlands are mostly covered with woods and jungle, and
scarred with rents, pits, and volcanic cones. Everywhere the marks
of terrible volcanic action are visible. The whole district is so
cavernous, so rent with fissures, and so broken by fiery agencies,
that not a single stream of water keeps above-ground to reach the sea.
All the rain-fall is swallowed by the 10,000 crevices, and disappears,
except the little that is held in small pools and basins, waiting for
evaporation. The rains are abundant, and subterranean fountains and
streams are numerous, carrying the waters down to the sea level, and
filling caverns, and bursting up along the shore in springs and rills,
even far out under the sea. Some of these waters are very cold, some
tepid, and some stand at blood heat, furnishing excellent warm baths.
There are large caves near the sea where we enter by dark and crooked
passages, and bathe by torchlight, far underground, in deep and limpid
water.

Puna has many beautiful groves of the cocoa-palm, also breadfruit,
pandanus, and ohia, and where there is soil it produces under
cultivation, besides common vegetables, arrowroot, sugar-cane, coffee,
cotton, oranges, citrons, limes, grapes, and other fruits. On the
highlands, grow wild strawberries, cape gooseberries, and the ohelo, a
delicious berry resembling our whortleberry.

[Sidenote: _Outlying Villages._]

On the shore line of the eastern part of Kau, adjoining Puna, were
several villages, containing from 500 to 700 inhabitants, separated
from the inhabited central and western portions of the district by a
desert of unwatered lava about 15 miles wide, without a single house
or human being. These villages were occasionally visited by the Rev.
Mr. Forbes, then stationed in South Kona; but to reach them required a
long, weary walk over the fields of burning lava, and at his request, I
took them under my charge, thus extending the shore line of my parish
ten miles westward.

IV.

_First Tours in Hilo and Puna--The Work of 1837-38--Spontaneous
Church-building--The Great Awakening--The Volcanic Wave--Pastoral
Experiences and Methods--The Ingathering._

I made my first tours of Hilo and Puna during the latter part of my
first half year on Hawaii. In 1836 I had gained so much in the language
as to be able to converse, preach, and pray with comfort and with
apparent effect on my audiences.

On my arrival in Hilo, the number of church members was twenty-three,
all living in the town. A considerable portion of our time was then
devoted to the schools. Mr. and Mrs. Lyman were heartily engaged in
the boys’ boarding-school. Mrs. Coan was already teaching a day-school
of 140 children, and I a training-school of 90 teachers to supply the
schools of Hilo and Puna.

Giving a vacation to my pupils, I set off Nov. 29, 1836, on a tour
around the island. This was made on foot, with the exception of a
little sailing in a canoe down the coast of Kona. My companions were
two or three natives, to act as guides and porters. On reaching the
western coast of Kau, I visited all the villages along the shore,
preaching and exhorting everywhere. The people came out, men, women,
and children, in crowds, and listened with great attention. Here I
preached three, four, and five times a day, and had much personal
conversation with the natives on things pertaining to the kingdom of
God.

[Sidenote: _The Hearers._]

On reaching the western boundaries of Puna, my labors became more
abundant. I had visited this people before, and had noticed a hopeful
interest in a number of them. Now they rallied in masses, and were
eager to hear the Word. Many listened with tears, and after the
preaching, when I supposed they would return to their homes and give
me rest, they remained and crowded around me so earnestly, that I had
no time to eat, and in places where I spent my nights they filled the
house to its entire capacity, leaving scores outside who could not
enter. All wanted to hear more of the “Word of Life.” At ten or eleven
o’clock I would advise them to go home and to sleep. Some would retire,
but more remain until midnight. At cock-crowing the house would be
again crowded, with as many more outside.

At one place before I reached the point where I was to spend a Sabbath,
there was a line of four villages not more than half a mile apart.
Every village begged for a sermon and for personal conversation.
Commencing at daylight I preached in three of them before breakfast, at
10 +A.M.+ When the meeting closed at one village, most of the people
ran on to the next, and thus my congregation increased rapidly from
hour to hour. Many were “pricked in their hearts” and were inquiring
what they should do to be saved.

Sunday came and I was now in the most populous part of Puna. Multitudes
came out to hear the Gospel. The blind were led; the maimed, the aged
and decrepit, and many invalids were brought on the backs of their
friends. There was great joy and much weeping in the assembly. Two
days were spent in this place, and ten sermons preached, while almost
all the intervals between the public services were spent in personal
conversation with the crowds which pressed around me.

Many of the people who then wept and prayed proved true converts to
Christ; most of them have died in the faith, and a few still live as
steadfast witnesses to the power of the Gospel.

Among these converts was the High Priest of the volcano. He was more
than six feet high and of lofty bearing. He had been an idolater, a
drunkard, an adulterer, a robber, and a murderer. For their _kapas_,
for a pig or a fowl he had killed men on the road, whenever they
hesitated to yield to his demands. But he became penitent, and appeared
honest and earnest in seeking the Lord.

His sister was more haughty and stubborn. She was High Priestess of the
volcano. She, too, was tall and majestic in her bearing. For a long
time she refused to bow to the claims of the Gospel; but at length she
yielded, confessed herself a sinner and under the authority of a higher
Power, and with her brother became a docile member of the church.

[Sidenote: _Growing Interest._]

During this tour of thirty days I examined twenty schools with an
aggregate of 1,200 pupils.

After my return, congregations at the center increased in numbers and
in interest. Meetings for parents, for women, for church members, for
children, were frequent and full. Soon scores and hundreds who had
heard the Gospel in Kau, Puna, and Hilo, came into the town to hear
more. During all the years of 1837-8, Hilo was crowded with strangers;
whole families and whole villages in the country were left, with the
exception of a few of the old people, and in some instances even
the aged and the feeble were brought in on litters from a distance
of thirty or fifty miles. Little cabins studded the place like the
camps of an army, and we estimated that our population was increased
to 10,000 souls. Those who remained some time, fished, and planted
potatoes and taro for food. Our great native house of worship, nearly
200 feet long, by about eighty-five feet wide, with a lofty roof of
thatch, was crowded almost to suffocation, while hundreds remained
outside unable to enter. This sea of faces, all hushed except when
sighs and sobs burst out here and there, was a scene to melt the
heart. The word fell with power, and sometimes as the feeling deepened,
the vast audience was moved and swayed like a forest in a mighty wind.
The word became like the “fire and the hammer” of the Almighty, and it
pierced like a two-edged sword. Hopeful converts were multiplied and
“there was great joy in the city.”

Finding the place of our worship “too strait” for the increasing
multitudes, our people, of their own accord and without the knowledge
of their teachers, went up into the forest three to five miles, with
axes, and with ropes made of vines and bark of the hibiscus, cut down
trees of suitable size and length for posts, rafters, etc., and hauled
them down through mud and jungle, and over streams and hillocks to the
town. Seeing a very large heap of this timber, I inquired what this
meant. The reply was, “We will build a second house of worship so that
the people may all be sheltered from sun and rain on the Sabbath. And
this is our thought; all of the people of Hilo shall meet in the larger
house, where you will preach to them in the morning, during which time
the people of Puna and Kau will meet for prayer in the smaller house,
and in the afternoon these congregations shall exchange places, and
you will preach to the Puna and Kau people; thus all will hear the
minister.”

Several thousands, both men and women, took hold of the work, and in
about three weeks from the commencement of the hauling of the timber,
the house was finished and a joyful crowd of about 2,000 filled it on
the Sabbath.

[Sidenote: _The Congregations._]

Neither of the houses had floors or seats. The ground was beaten hard
and covered from week to week with fresh grass.

When we wished to economize room, or seat the greatest possible number,
skilled men were employed to arrange the people standing in compact
rows as tight as it was possible to crowd them, the men and women being
separated, and when the house was thus filled with these compacted
ranks, the word was given them to _sit down_, which they did, a mass of
living humanity, such perhaps as was never seen except on Hawaii.

During these years my tours through the extended parish were not given
up. Nearly every person left in the villages came to the preaching
stations. There were places along the routes where there were no houses
near the trail, but where a few families were living half a mile or
more inland. In such places, the few dwellers would come down to the
path leading their blind, and carrying their sick and aged upon their
backs, and lay them down under a tree if there was one near, or upon
the naked rocks, that they might hear of a Saviour. It was often
affecting to see these withered and trembling hands reached out to
grasp the hand of the teacher, and to hear the palsied, the blind, and
the lame begging him to stop awhile and tell them the story of Jesus.
These pleas could not be resisted, for the thought would instantly
arise, “This may be the _last time_.” And so it often was, for on my
next tour some of them had gone never to return. It was a comforting
thought that they had been told of “the Lamb of God who taketh away the
sin of the world,” and to feel a sweet assurance from their tears of
joy and eager reception of the truth that they had found “Him of whom
Moses and the Prophets wrote.”

Time swept on; the work deepened and widened. Thousands on thousands
thronged the courts of the Lord. All eastern and southern Hawaii was
like a sea in motion. Waimea, Hamakua, Kohala, Kona, and the other
islands of the group, were moved. Reporting and inquiring letters
circulated from post to post, and from island to island. One asked
another, “What do these things mean?” and the reply was, “What
indeed?” Some said that the Hawaiians were a peculiar people, and very
hypocritical, so debased in mind and heart that they could not receive
any true conception of the true God, or of spiritual things; even their
language was wanting in terms to convey ideas of sacred truth; we
must not hope for evangelical conversions among them. But most of the
laborers redoubled their efforts, were earnest in prayer, and worked on
in faith. Everywhere the trumpet of jubilee sounded long and loud, and
“as clouds and as doves to their windows,” so ransomed sinners flocked
to Christ.

[Sidenote: _Revival Interest._]

I had seen great and powerful awakenings under the preaching of
Nettleton and Finney, and like doctrines, prayers, and efforts seemed
to produce like fruits among this people.

My precious wife, whose soul was melted with love and longings for the
weeping natives, felt that to doubt it was the work of the Spirit, was
to grieve the Holy Ghost and to provoke Him to depart from us.

On some occasions there were physical demonstrations which commanded
attention. Among the serious and anxious inquirers who came to our
house by day and by night, there were individuals who, while listening
to a very plain and kind conversation, would begin to tremble and soon
fall helpless to the floor. At one time, when I was holding a series of
outdoor meetings in a populous part of Puna, a remarkable manifestation
of this kind occurred. A very large concourse were seated on the grass,
and I was standing in the center preaching “Repentance toward God and
faith in the Lord Jesus.” Of a sudden, a man who had been gazing with
intense interest at the preacher, burst out in a fervent prayer, with
streaming tears, saying: “Lord, have mercy on me; I am dead in sin.”
His weeping was so loud, and his trembling so great, that the whole
congregation was moved as by a common sympathy. Many wept aloud, and
many commenced praying together. The scene was such as I had never
before witnessed. I stood dumb in the midst of this weeping, wailing,
praying multitude, not being able to make myself heard for about twenty
minutes. When the noise was hushed, I continued my address with words
of caution, lest they should feel that this kind of demonstration
atoned for their sins, and rendered them acceptable before God. I
assured them that all the Lord required was godly sorrow for the past,
present faith in Christ, and henceforth faithful, filial, and cheerful
obedience. A calm came over the multitude, and we felt that “the Lord
was there.”

A young man came once into our meeting to make sport slyly. Trying to
make the young men around him laugh during prayer, he fell as senseless
as a log upon the ground and was carried out of the house. It was some
time before his consciousness could be restored. He became sober,
confessed his sins, and in due time united with the church.

Similar manifestations were seen in other places, but everywhere the
people were warned against hypocrisy, and against trusting in such
demonstrations. They were told that the Lord looks at the heart, and
that “repentance toward God and faith in the Lord Jesus” were the
unchangeable conditions of pardon and salvation, and that their future
lives of obedience or of disobedience would prove or disprove their
spiritual life, as “The tree is known by its fruit.”

[Sidenote: _Volcanic Waves._]

But God visited the people in judgment as well as in mercy. On the 7th
of November, 1837, at the hour of evening prayers, we were startled by
a heavy thud, and a sudden jar of the earth. The sound was like the
fall of some vast body upon the beach, and in a few seconds a noise
of mingled voices rising for a mile along the shore thrilled us like
the wail of doom. Instantly this was followed by a like wail from
all the native houses around us. I immediately ran down to the sea,
where a scene of wild ruin was spread out before me. The sea, moved
by an unseen hand, had all on a sudden risen in a gigantic wave, and
this wave, rushing in with the speed of a race-horse, had fallen upon
the shore, sweeping everything not more than fifteen or twenty feet
above high-water mark into indiscriminate ruin. Houses, furniture,
calabashes, fuel, timber, canoes, food, clothing, everything floated
wild upon the flood. About two hundred people, from the old man and
woman of three-score years and ten, to the new-born infant, stripped of
their earthly all, were struggling in the tumultuous waves. So sudden
and unexpected was the catastrophe, that the people along the shore
were literally “eating and drinking,” and they “knew not, until the
flood came and swept them all away.” The harbor was full of strugglers
calling for help, while frantic parents and children, wives and
husbands ran to and fro along the beach, calling for their lost ones.
As wave after wave came in and retired, the strugglers were brought
near the shore, where the more vigorous landed with desperate efforts
and the weaker and exhausted were carried back upon the retreating
wave, some to sink and rise no more till the noise of judgment wakes
them. Twelve individuals were picked up while drifting out of the
bay by the boats of the _Admiral Cockburn_, an English whaler then
in port. For a time the captain of the ship feared the loss of his
vessel, but as the oscillating waves grew weaker and weaker, he lowered
all his boats and went in search of those who were floating off upon
the current. Had this catastrophe occurred at midnight when all were
asleep, hundreds of lives would undoubtedly have been lost. Through the
great mercy of God, only thirteen were drowned.

This event, falling as it did like a bolt of thunder from a clear sky,
greatly impressed the people. It was as the voice of God speaking to
them out of heaven, “Be ye also ready.”

Day after day we buried the dead, as they were found washed up upon
the beach, or thrown upon the rocky shores far from the harbor. We
fed, comforted, and clothed the living, and God brought light out of
darkness, joy out of grief, and life out of death. Our meetings were
more and more crowded, and hopeful converts were multiplied.

[Sidenote: _The English Captain._]

Even the English captain, who spent his nights in our family, and his
intelligent and courteous clerk, professed to give themselves to the
Lord while with us, and both kneeling with us at the family altar,
silently united in our morning and evening devotions, or cheerfully
led in prayer. The captain was a large and powerful man, bronzed by
wind and wave and scorching sun. He had been long upon the deep, had
suffered shipwreck, had been unable to reach his London home for more
than three years, and had been given up as dead by all his friends.
Under this belief his wife had married another, when he surprised her
by his return, and she gave him joy by returning to him. He gave us an
interesting account of his eventful life, and confessed that he had
enjoyed very few religious privileges and had thought little of God or
the salvation of his soul. He now accepted the offer of life through
Christ, with the spirit of a little child.

On returning to the ship he immediately told his officers and crew that
he should drink no more intoxicants, swear no more, and chase whales no
more on the Lord’s day, but, on the contrary, observe the Sabbath and
have religious services on that holy day.

Though thousands professed to have passed from death unto life during
the years 1836-7, only a small proportion of these had been received
into the church. The largest numbers were gathered in during 1838-9.
I had kept a faithful note-book in my pocket, and in all my personal
conversations with the people, by night and by day, at home and in
my oft-repeated tours, I had noted down, unobserved, the names of
individuals apparently sincere and true converts. Over these persons
I kept watch, though unconsciously to themselves; and thus their life
and conversation were made the subjects of vigilant observation. After
the lapse of three, six, nine, or twelve months, as the case might be,
selections were made from the list of names for examination. Some were
found to have gone back to their old sins; others were stupid, or gave
but doubtful evidence of conversion, while many had stood fast and run
well. Most of those who seemed hopefully converted spent several months
at the central station before their union with the church. Here they
were watched over and instructed from week to week and from day to day,
with anxious and unceasing care. They were sifted and re-sifted with
scrutiny, and with every effort to take the precious from the vile.
The church and the world, friends and enemies, were called upon and
solemnly charged to testify, without concealment or palliation, if they
knew aught against any of the candidates.

[Sidenote: _The Ingathering._]

From my pocket list of about three thousand, 1,705 were selected to
be baptized and received to the communion of the church on the first
Sabbath of July, 1838. The selection was made, not because a thousand
and more of others were to be rejected, or that a large proportion of
them did not appear as well as those received, but because the numbers
were too large for our faith, and might stagger the faith of others.
The admission of many was deferred for the more full development of
their character, while they were to be watched over, guided, and fed as
sheep of the Great Shepherd.

The 1,705 persons selected had all been gathered at the station some
time before the day appointed for their reception. They had been
divided into classes, according to the villages whence they came, and
put in charge of class leaders, who were instructed to watch over and
teach them.

The memorable morning came arrayed in glory. A purer sky, a brighter
sun, a serener atmosphere, a more silvery sea, and a more brilliant and
charming landscape could not be desired. The very heavens over us and
the earth around us seemed to smile. The hour came; during the time
of preparation the house was kept clear of all but the actors. With
the roll in hand, the leaders of the classes were called in with their
companies of candidates in the order of all the villages; first of Hilo
district, then of Puna, and last of Kau. From my roll the names in the
first class were called one by one, and I saw each individual seated
against the wall, and so of the second, and thus on until the first
row was formed. Thus, row after row was extended the whole length of
the house, leaving spaces for one to pass between these lines. After
every name had been called, and every individual recognized and seated,
all the former members of the church were called in and seated on the
opposite side of the building, and the remaining space given to as many
as could be seated.

All being thus prepared, we had singing and prayer, then a word of
explanation on the rite of baptism, with exhortation. After this with a
basin of water, I passed back and forth between the lines, sprinkling
each individual until all were baptized. Standing in the center of the
congregation of the baptized, I pronounced the words, “I baptize you
all into the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.
Amen.”

The scene was one of solemn and tender interest, surpassing anything of
the kind I had ever witnessed. All heads were bowed, and tears fell.
All was hushed except sobs and breathing.

The nature of the Lord’s supper and the reasons for its observance
were then explained, and the bread and cup distributed among the
communicants.

This was a day long to be remembered. Its impressions were deep,
tender, and abiding; and up to the present time, the surviving veterans
of that period look back to it as the _day of days_ in the history of
the Hilo church.

[Sidenote: _Results._]

At this period the ecclesiastical year of the mission began on the 1st
of May. The reports of the churches were made up to the 30th of April,
1838. I find in the records of Hilo church the

Number received during year ending April 30, 1838, 639
Number received during year ending April 30, 1839, 5,244
Number received during year ending April 30, 1840, 1,499

During the following decade ending in 1850, the number
received was 2,348

And for the decade ending in 1860, 1,445

The whole number received on profession to 1880, 12,113
The whole number received by letter, 812
The whole number dismissed, 3,546
The whole number deceased, 8,190
The whole number of marriages, 3,048
The whole number of children baptized, 4,370

Those received from the district of Kau, when there was no settled
pastor there, were afterward dismissed to the church which was
organized and placed under the care of the Rev. J. D. Paris.

In order to keep every member under my eye, and to find ready access to
each, I prepared a book ruled thus:

By simple signs males and females were distinguished. This is important
here, because the same name is often used interchangeably for the sexes.

For many years I always took this book with me in my tours, and called
the roll of the church members in every village along the line. When
any one did not answer the roll-call, I made inquiry why. If dead, I
marked the date; if sick, visited him or her, if time would allow;
if absent on duty, accepted the fact; if supposed to be doubting or
backsliding, sent for or visited him; if gone to another part of the
island, or to another island, I inquired if the absence would be short
or perpetual, and noted the facts of whatever kind.

Our young men often shipped for whaling voyages. Noting these cases, I
would watch for their return, and then visit them, inquiring whether
they chased whales on the Lord’s day, used intoxicants, or violated
other Christian rules of morality; and I dealt with them as each case
demanded.

Some church members removed to other districts or islands without
letters of dismissal. The names of these I used to send to the pastors
whither they had gone, requesting them to look after these absent ones,
and receive them to their communion, reporting to me.

[Sidenote: _Church Discipline._]

As hundreds of our people went from place to place to visit friends
or on business, to learn whither they had gone, to follow them with
letters, and to see them properly cared for, became an important
but arduous labor. The Hawaiians are not nomads, but they are fond
of moving, and curiosity or the call of friends leads very many of
them to wander over many parts of the group. During my annual visits
to Honolulu, on occasion of the General Meeting of the Mission held
there in May or June, I often gave public notices in the churches
that I would meet any of my people who were there, at a given hour on
Sunday, and a company of fifty to a hundred would assemble at the hour
appointed.

Our Confession of Faith is the Bible, and each individual in the Hilo
church promises, with his hand on the Sacred Book, to abstain from
all that is forbidden, and to obey all that is commanded therein. We
advise them to abstain from the use of tobacco, ava (a narcotic root),
and from all intoxicants. Like all savages, they were almost to a man
addicted to the use of these articles, especially of tobacco, and
we supposed that it would be next to impossible to persuade them to
abandon these habits. But the Lord came to our help. All over Hilo
and Puna, during that mighty work of the Spirit, multitudes pulled up
all their tobacco plants and cast them into the sea or into pits, and
thousands of pipes were broken upon the rocks or burned, and thousands
of habitual smokers abandoned the habit at once and forever. I have
been surprised at the resolution and self-denial of old men and
women who had long indulged in smoking, in thus breaking short off.
Some, however, went back to the old habit, and some used the article
secretly. I have never excommunicated or suspended members for this
indulgence, but have taught them, by precept and example, a better way.
Mr. and Mrs. Lyman, and nearly every missionary brother and sister on
the islands, were united with me in this matter.

In all cases we found that those who would not relinquish smoking
were the more troublesome members of the church, giving more doubtful
evidence of love to Christ, and oftener running into other excesses
which called for church discipline.

_Mrs. Coan’s School for Girls--Common Schools--Medical Work--The
Sailors’ Church--Sunday Work--Visits of Foreign Vessels--The U.
S. Exploring Expedition._

In the year 1838, Mrs. Coan opened a boarding-school for native girls.
This was to be self-supporting in part, but to receive such aid in
labor, food, kapas, mats, etc., as parents and friends chose to render.

As soon as the plan was made known to the church and people they
rallied cheerfully, went into the woods, hauled down timber by hand,
and with great promptness erected and thatched a comfortable building
on our premises. A floor was laid over about one-fourth of the
building, on which was placed a table, and a few chairs for the teacher
and visitors.

On each side of the remaining three-fourths of the house was a row of
little open cells, partitioned from each other by mats, and furnished
with beds of straw or dried grass, and with mats and kapas for
coverings. In the space between these rows of compartments was a plain
table, with seats, bowls, spoons, etc., for the pupils. The number of
little girls in the school was twenty, their ages from seven to ten
years. Arrangements were made with the people living in and near the
town, that they should bring in weekly supplies of food and fish for
the girls. Taro, potatoes, bananas, and fish were then abundant and
cheap, and the people provided willingly. At length they set apart a
parcel of ground and appointed each monthly concert day as a time when
they would cultivate that ground and thus supply the food necessary for
the school.

Little gifts of money were sometimes made by strangers who came to
Hilo, by officers of whale-ships and men-of-war; or a piece of print
or brown cotton was given, and thus the real wants of the school were
supplied. No application to the A. B. C. F. M., or to any Board, or to
an individual was ever made for help. Mrs. Coan toiled faithfully from
day to day, in spite of pressing family cares, teaching her charges
the rudiments of necessary book knowledge, and of singing, sewing,
washing and ironing, gardening, and other things. Most of the girls
became members of the Hilo church, and we had hope that all were the
children of God. The school was sustained about eight years, and sent
out a company of girls, who, for the most part, did honor to their
instructions, and who were distinguished among their companions for
neatness, skill, industry, and piety. As domestic cares increased
and her strength was weakened, the faithful teacher at length felt
compelled to give up her charge.

[Sidenote: _Schools and Patients._]

For a time I had the supervision of the common schools, numbering not
less than fifty, and containing about 2,000 pupils. My duties were
to furnish them with books, slates, and pencils; to visit them on my
tours, to attend their examinations, and make a tabular record of
numbers, readers, writers, etc. For want of writing-paper or a full
supply of slates, the children would prepare square pieces of the green
banana-leaf, and with a wooden style or slate-pencil form letters and
thus learn to write.

At the central station and on all my tours I was thronged with the
sick and afflicted multitudes, or their friends, begging for remedies
for almost all kinds of diseases. So numerous were the applications
for medicines, and so varied and sad were the spectacles of disease,
that it became a task for the skill and the whole time of a well-read
and experienced physician. I had a fair collection of medical books,
and these were consulted as much as was possible in connection with my
other labors, but my regret was that I could not visit the sick as I
wished, or pay them the attention they needed.

When at last, in 1849, a good physician, Charles H. Wetmore, was sent
to our relief, my heart rejoiced. I immediately resigned my medical
functions, turned over my medicine-chest and drugs to him, and blessed
the Lord that I was not doomed to wander “forty years in the wilderness
of powders and pills.” This kind and faithful doctor with his excellent
wife have been our nearest neighbors ever since their arrival.

I was also greatly relieved of the care of the common schools by Mr.
and Mrs. Abner Wilcox, lay missionaries, who came to us as teachers and
remained in Hilo several years.

Previous to our arrival, when whale-ships and other vessels were in
the harbor of Hilo, the officers and crews received kind attentions
from the missionaries at this station. The Reverends Joseph Goodrich,
Jonathan Green, Sheldon Dibble, and D. B. Lyman, and their wives, had
entertained many of these sons of the deep, given them reading-matter,
and sought to promote their spiritual interests.

We were at once ready to help in this important work. Masters,
officers, and sailors were made welcome to our house; books and tracts
were provided for them to take to sea, and a religious service was held
for them every Sunday afternoon.

For many years this service was held in one of the houses of the
missionaries. Finally, we fitted up the old stone-building, our first
home, for a bethel, and added a library of about 200 volumes, with
periodicals.

[Sidenote: _Foreign Vessels._]

My regular services on the Sabbath were: a Sunday-school at 9
+A.M.+; preaching at 10.30; at 12 +M.+ a meeting for inquirers; at 1
+P.M.+ preaching; and at 3 +P.M.+ preaching in English to seamen, and
English-speaking residents and visitors. When ships were in port we
often had a full house, and not a few hearers professed a determination
to forsake all sin and to live godly lives. Of some we afterward
learned, either by their own letters or otherwise, that they had kept
their vows and united with Christian churches, and that some had become
ministers of the Gospel.

Several masters and officers gave up Sabbath whaling, and instead held
religious meetings with their men on the Lord’s day.

Very precious friendships were formed with many of these seamen, which
friendships continue to this day. We have found noble specimens, not
only of generosity and fine natural talent among this class of men, but
also many choice Christians.

Not a few national ships have visited Hilo, from the tender or schooner
up to the sloop-of-war, the frigate and the great seventy-four-gun
line-of-battle ship, as the _Collingwood_ and _Ohio_.

The largest of these ships represented the United States of America,
the next Great Britain, then France, Russia, Germany, and Denmark.
We have had more than seventy-five of these war-ships of different
nationalities in our harbor, and of all classes of vessels about 4,000.
The approximate number of seamen who have visited Hilo during our
residence here we put at 40,000.

In this labor for seamen I have been led to correspond with the
American Bible, Tract, Peace, Temperance, and Seamen’s Friend
Societies, and have obtained Bibles and tracts in the English, French,
German, Spanish, Portuguese, Swedish, Danish, and Chinese languages;
which with many thousands of tracts have been distributed among these
vessels. Some of this “bread cast upon the waters” has been found again
according to the promise.

In 1840, Charles Wilkes, commander of the United States Exploring
Expedition, arrived in Hilo bay in the flag-ship _Vincennes_. Here with
an admirable corps of scientists he spent three months in explorations,
measurements, observations, etc. Parties of officers and scientific
gentlemen were detailed to visit different parts of the island, some to
ascend the mountains, and some to survey the shore, making collections,
drawings, and observations in all the branches of the natural history
of the Islands. The commander called for 300 young and vigorous men to
take him, with the materials of a wooden house and all the apparatus of
a large observatory, with food, fuel, water, beds, etc., to the summit
of Mauna Loa, where he and his attendants were to spend twenty or
thirty days in taking observations.

Other parties required large numbers of men to carry baggage,
instruments, etc., and to act as guides and assistants in making
surveys and collecting a large amount of specimens.

[Sidenote: _The U. S. Exploring Expedition._]

Parties of natives thus employed needed to be recruited often on
account of fatigue and exhaustion, and for the lack of shoes and warm
clothing to endure the hard travel and the rains, cold, and snows
of the mountains. Some died of cold. It is supposed that about one
thousand of our strongest men were brought into this service, and
with small pay, during these three months. Some parties of men were
required to travel and work on Sunday as on other days. All this had
a demoralizing effect upon the poor natives. They had been accustomed
to rest from all physical toil, and to worship on the Lord’s day.
Our congregations were much reduced in numbers. There was no little
murmuring among the people at this new state of things, and for years
the moral tone of the church and community could not be fully restored
to its cheerful and normal state.

This was a trial of faith, and a fan to winnow the church, but most of
our Christians stood fast, and although it checked the progress of the
revival, the loss to the church was less than might have been feared.

The visit of the expedition to Hilo afforded us an opportunity to form
an acquaintance with many worthy gentlemen, several of whom we met
again in the United States in 1870-1. Among these we met and received
as a very welcome guest the then youthful James D. Dana, one of the
scientific corps, now so distinguished in various departments of
natural science, and honored as a Christian philosopher. The friendship
then formed has been increased by years and can never wane.

VI.

_Mauna Loa--Kilauea--The Eruption of 1840--The River of Fire--It
reaches the Sea at Nanawale--Lava Chimneys--Destruction of a
Village._

It is widely known that the Hawaiian Islands are all of volcanic
origin. They are the summits of mountains whose bases are far down
in the sea. Their structure is plutonic, and the marks of fire are
everywhere visible. They are scarred with hundreds and hundreds of pit
and cone craters, most of which are extinct.

Mauna Loa is a vast volcanic dome, subject to igneous eruptions at any
time, either from its extended summit or sides. Prof. Dana estimates
that “there is enough rock material in Mauna Loa to make one hundred
and twenty-five Vesuviuses.”[1] About midway from its summit to the
sea on the eastern flank of the mountain and on a nearly level plain
is Kilauea, the largest known active crater in the world. The brink of
this crater is 4,440 feet above the sea level; its depth varies from
700 to 1,200 feet, and its longer diameter is about three miles. Grand
eruptions have issued from it in past ages, covering hundreds of square
miles in different parts of Puna and Kau.

[1] _Am. Journal of Science_, May, 1859, p. 415.

The first eruption from Kilauea which occurred after my arrival in
Hilo, began on the 30th of May, 1840. To my regret, I was then absent
at the annual General Meeting of this mission in Honolulu, a meeting
which I have always attended. I therefore record a portion of the facts
as given by the natives and foreigners who saw the eruption, adding my
own observations on a visit to the scene after my return from Honolulu.

There had been no grand eruption from this crater for the previous
seventeen years, so that the lavas in the crater had risen several
hundred feet, and the action had, at times, been terrific.

The volcano is thirty miles by road from Hilo, and under favorable
conditions of the atmosphere we could see the splendid light by night,
and the white cloudy pillar of steam by day. It was reported that, for
several days before the outburst, the whole vast floor of the crater
was in a state of intense ebullition; the seething waves rolling,
surging, and dashing against the adamantine walls, and shaking down
large rocks into the fiery abyss below. It was even stated that the
heat was so intense, and the surges so infernal, that travelers near
the upper rim of the crater left the path on account of the heat, and
for fear of the falling of the precipice over which the trail lay, and
passed at a considerable distance from the crater. Kilauea is about
half in Puna and half in Kau, and all travelers going from Kau to Hilo
by the inland road pass the very brink of this crater.

[Sidenote: _A Subterranean Fire-Stream._]

The eruption was first noticed by the people of Puna, who were
living only twenty miles from it. The light appeared at first like
a highland jungle on fire; and so it was, for the fiery river found
vent some 1,200 to 1,500 feet below the rim of Kilauea, and flowing
subterraneously in a N.E. direction, for about four miles, marking its
course by rending the superincumbent strata and throwing up light puffs
of sulphurous steam, it broke ground in the bottom of a wooded crater
about 500 feet deep, consuming the shrubs, vines, and grasses, and
leaving a smouldering mass instead.

The great stream forced its way underground in a wild and wooded region
for two miles more, when it again threw up a jet of fire and sulphur,
covering about an acre. At this point, a large amount of brilliant
sulphur crystals continued to be formed for several years.

Only a little further on, and an old wooded cone was rent with fissures
several feet wide, and about half an acre of burning lava spouted up,
consuming the trees and jungle. This crevasse emitted scalding vapor
for twenty-five years.

Onward went the burning river, deep underground, some six miles more,
when the earth was rent again with an enormous fissure, and floods of
devouring fire were poured out, consuming the forest and spreading over
perhaps fifty acres. And still the passage seaward was underground for
about another six miles, when it broke out in a terrific flood and
rolled and surged along henceforth upon the surface, contracting to
half a mile, or expanding to two miles in width, and moving from half a
mile to five miles an hour, according to the angle of descent and the
inequalities and obstructions of the surface, until it poured over the
perpendicular sea-wall, about thirty feet high, in a sheet of burning
fusion only a little less than one mile wide.

This was on June 3, 1840. It reached the sea on the fifth day after
the light was first seen on the highlands, and at the distance of only
seventeen and a half miles from Hilo. As this grand cataract of fire
poured over the basaltic sea-wall, the sights and sounds were said to
be indescribable. Two mighty antagonistic forces were in conflict. The
sea boiled and raged as with infernal fury, while the burning flood
continued to pour into the troubled waves by night and by day for three
weeks. Dense clouds of steam rolled up heavenward, veiling sun and
stars, and so covering the lava flow that objects could not be seen
from one margin to the other. All communication between the northern
and southern portions of Puna was cut off for more than a month.

[Sidenote: _The Lava Reaches the Sea._]

The waters of the sea were heated for twenty miles along the coast, and
multitudes of fishes were killed by the heat and the sulphurous gases,
and were seen floating upon the waves.

During this flow, the sea-line along the whole breadth of the
fire-stream was pushed out many yards by the solidified lavas, and
three tufaceous cones were raised in the water where ships could once
sail. They were formed of lava-sand made by the shivering of the
mineral flood coming in contact with the sea, and standing in a line
200, 300, and 400 feet above the water, with their bases deep down in
the sea. These dunes have been greatly reduced by the waves thundering
at their bases and the winds and storms beating upon their summits. One
of them, indeed, is now entirely obliterated.

During this eruption most of the foreign residents in Hilo, and
hundreds of Hawaiians of Puna and Hilo, visited the scene where the
igneous river plunged into the sea, and they described it as fearfully
grand and awe-inspiring.

Imagine the Mississippi converted into liquid fire of the consistency
of fused iron, and moving onward sometimes rapidly, sometimes
sluggishly; now widening into a lake, and anon rushing through a narrow
gorge, breaking its way through mighty forests and ancient solitudes,
and you will get some idea of the spectacle here exhibited.

When the eruption was at its height night was turned into day in all
this region. The light rose and spread like morning upon the mountains,
and its glare was seen on the opposite side of the island. It was also
visible for more than a hundred miles at sea; and at the distance of
forty miles fine print could be read at midnight.

The brilliancy of the light was said to be like a blazing firmament,
and the scene one of unrivaled sublimity.

No lives were lost during this eruption. The stream passed under and
over an almost uninhabited desert. A few small hamlets were consumed,
and a few patches of taro, potatoes, and bananas were destroyed,
but the people walked off with their calabashes, kapas, and other
chattels to seek shelter and food elsewhere. During the eruption
some of the people of Puna spent much of their time in prayer and
religious meetings, some fled in consternation, and others wandered
along the margin of the lava stream, at a safe distance, marking
with idle curiosity its progress, while others still pursued their
daily avocations within a mile of the fiery river, as quietly as
if nothing strange had occurred. They ate, drank, bought, sold,
planted, builded, slept, and waked apparently indifferent to the roar
of consuming forests, the sight of devouring fire, the startling
detonations, the hissing of escaping steam, the rending of gigantic
rocks, the raging and crashing of lava waves, and the bellowings,
the murmurings, the unearthly mutterings coming up from the burning
abyss. They went quietly on in sight of the rain of ashes, sand, and
fiery scintillations, gazing vacantly on the fearful and ever-varying
appearance of the atmosphere illuminated by the eruption, the sudden
rising of lofty pillars of flame, the upward curling of ten thousand
columns of smoke, and their majestic gyrations in dingy, lurid, or
parti-colored clouds.

[Sidenote: _The Lava Stream._]

While the stream was flowing it might be approached within a few yards
on the windward side, while at the leeward no one could live within
a great distance on account of the smoke, the impregnation of the
atmosphere with pungent and deadly gases, and the fiery showers that
fell on all around, destroying all vegetable life.

Sometimes the intense heat of the stream would cause large boulders
and rocks to explode with great detonations, and sometimes lateral
branches of the stream would push out into some fissure, or work into
a subterranean gallery, until they met with some obstacle, when the
accumulating fusion with its heat, its gases, and its pressure would
lift up the superincumbent mass of rock into a dome, or, sundering it
from its surroundings, bear it off on its burning bosom like a raft
upon the water. A foreigner told me that while he was standing on a
rocky hillock, some distance from the stream, gazing with rapt interest
upon its movements, he felt himself rising with the ground on which he
stood. Startled by the motion, he leaped from the rock, when in a few
minutes fire burst out from the place where he had been.

On returning from Honolulu I soon started for Puna, with arrangements
to make as thorough explorations and observations on this remarkable
eruption as my time would allow. I spent nearly two days on the stream.
It was solidified and mostly cooled, yet hot and steaming in many
places. I went up the flow to where it burst out in volume and breadth
from its subterranean chambers and continued on the surface to the
sea, a distance of about twelve miles, making the entire length of the
stream about thirty miles. In a letter published in the _Missionary
Herald_ of July, 1841, I called it forty miles, but later measurements
have led me to correct this and some other statements made on first
sight.

I found the place of final outburst a scene where terrific energy had
been exerted. Yawning crevasses were opened, the rocks were rent, and
the forests consumed; the molten flood had raged and swirled and been
thrown high into the air, and there had been a display of titanic fury
which must have been appalling at the time of the outbreak.

[Sidenote: _The Lava in the Forest._]

In pursuing its course the stream sometimes plunged into caverns and
deep depressions, and sometimes it struck hills which separated it into
two channels, which uniting again after having passed the obstruction,
left islands of varied sizes with trees scorched and blasted with the
heat and gases.

Along the central line of the stream its depth could not be measured
accurately, for there was no trace of tree or ancient rock or floor.
All was a vast bed of fresh, smouldering lava. On the margins, however,
where the strata were thinner, I was able to measure with great
accuracy. In passing through forests, while the depth and heat of the
middle of the stream consumed everything, on the margins thousands of
green trees were cut down gradually by the fusion around their trunks;
but this was done so slowly that the surface of the stream solidified
before the trees fell, and on falling upon the hot and hardened
crust, the tops and limbs were only partly consumed, but all were
charred, and the rows and heaps were so thick and entangled as to form
_chevaux-de-frise_ quite impassable in some places. But the numerous
holes left in the hot lava bed by the gradual reduction of the trunks
to ashes afforded the means of measuring the depth of the flow. With a
long pole I was enabled to measure from a depth of five to twenty-five
feet. Some of these trunk-moulds were as smooth as the calibre of a
cannon. Some of the holes were still so hot at the bottom as to set my
pole on fire in one minute.

I had seen fearful ragings and heard what seemed the wails of infernal
beings in the great crater of Kilauea, but I had never before seen the
amazing effects of a great exterior eruption of lava, and I returned
from this weary exploration, after a missionary tour through Puna, with
a deepened sense of the terrible dynamics of the fiery abyss over which
we tread.

Since then, in crossing and re-crossing the wild highlands of my
parish I have found in the consumed openings of forests a new class
of volcanic monuments, consisting in numerous stacks of lava chimneys
standing apart on the floor of an ancient flow. These chimneys measure
from five to twenty-five feet in height, and five to ten feet in
diameter. I gazed at them at first sight as the work of human art, not
knowing that they were cylindrical. On climbing them I found that they
were hollow, and that they were as clearly tree moulds as the holes I
had measured in the flow of 1840.

Then came the question, how were they formed? The solution soon
came--that an ancient eruption had passed through this forest at
the height of many feet above the present surface, the fiery river
surrounding large trees, but while it consumed all smaller growths, the
waves subsided to their present level before these trunks were fully
consumed, thus leaving partially-cooled envelopes of lava adhering to
them. These moulds or chimneys now stand as monuments of the volcanic
action of an unknown age.

[Sidenote: _Obdurate Villagers._]

Here I leave this subject for a while, purposing to return to it.

In early years Hawaiian hospitality was generous, and on my tours
among the natives I found them ready to provide liberally, according
to their ability, for me and the helpers who accompanied me. To this
good feeling there was one notable exception. There was a small village
about eighteen miles from Hilo, where I had taken special pains to
tame and Christianize the people. They rarely provided even a cup of
cold water until I arrived and begged them to go to a somewhat distant
spring to fetch it; and for this I would have to wait two hours,
perhaps, while parched with thirst, burning with the heat of a midday
sun, and weary with walking over long miles of scorching lava fields.
On one occasion, returning from a circuit tour of more than a hundred
miles, I stopped at this place and preached and conversed with the
villagers. I had been absent from home over two weeks and had consumed
all the food I had taken with me, except a little stale biscuit. I
had nothing for the two good men, members of the Hilo church, who had
traveled all the distance with me. Evening closed in, and I asked the
occupants of the house and some of the neighbors who had come in if
they could not furnish my two companions with a little food before
they slept. The answer was, “We have no food.” “Perhaps you can give
them a potato, a kalo, a breadfruit, or a cocoanut.” They answered as
before, “We have _nothing_ to eat, not even for ourselves.” So, weary
and hungry, we lay down upon the mats for the night, and when we were
supposed to be asleep, we heard the family under the cocoanut trees
eating heartily, and conversing in an undertone that we might not hear
them.

After years of kind instructions with the hope of leading them to
appreciate the love of God and the value of a true Christianity, they
remained the same hardened beings. My patience and desire to lead them
to “the Lamb of God” continued; but thinking of what the Saviour said
to His disciples about “shaking off the dust of their feet,” I resolved
on a trial, hoping to win them into a better way.

In a meeting when “the _hearers_ but not the _doers_ of the word” were
assembled, I said to them, “These three years have I come seeking
fruit on this fig-tree, and find none. I will, therefore, leave you to
reflect on what you have heard from the Lord; and, whenever you repent
and desire to hear the Gospel again, send for me and I will hasten
to you with joy.” But they never sent. Time passed on and down came
the fiery torrent of which I have written, and covered the village,
consuming the cocoa-palm grove, the potato and banana patches, with
the thatched meeting-house and school-house, leaving nothing but a
blackened field of lava. The people took their little all and fled.

[Sidenote: _The Scourge._]

They settled near the borders of the lava stream, and in the year 1853
the small-pox fell among them (the only place in Puna where the disease
went), and a large part of them died. There was no physician within
eighteen miles, and the poor creatures knew not what to do. Some bathed
in the sea to cool the burning heat, and perished, and some crawled
out into the jungle and there died, and were torn and partly eaten by
swine. They had fled from the devouring fire only to meet, if possible,
a more painful doom, and it reminds one of the words of Jeremiah
uttered against the stubborn Moabites: “He that fleeth from the fear
shall fall into the pit, and he that getteth up out of the pit shall be
taken in the snare.”

That the small-pox should find them and no one else in Puna seems
remarkable; but these are the facts. A number of these villagers were
visiting in Honolulu when the fearful disease raged there. They thought
to escape it by returning home, but unknown to them the destroyer had
already seized them and they perished in their wild, secluded jungle.

I visited this scene of sorrow and desolation, gathered the stricken
remnant of the sufferers, spoke words of condolence, and encouraged
them to come with their sins and sorrows to the Saviour. They seemed
subdued, welcomed their pastor, and were, I trust, “saved yet so as by
fire.”

VII.

_More Church-Building--Commodore Jones’s Visit--Progress of
Conversions--The Sacraments under New Conditions._

Of church buildings we had at one time not less than fifty, and of
school-houses sixty or more. These were all built by the free will of
the people, acting under no outward constraint. Some of these houses
would accommodate 1,000 persons, others 500, 300, and 150, according to
the population for which they were erected. They were, of course, built
in native style, on posts set in the ground, with rafters fastened
with cords, and the whole thatched with the leaf of the pandanus, the
sugar-cane, or dried grass. They were frail, needing rethatching once
in three to five years, and rebuilding after about ten years. They were
usually well-kept, and with open doors and holes for windows, they were
light and airy.

In this list I do not include the great buildings at Hilo.

[Sidenote: _Dragging Timber._]

A mighty wind having prostrated our large meeting-house, we commenced,
during the winter of 1840-1, to collect materials for our first framed
building. All the men who had axes went into the highland forest to
fell trees and hew timber. When a large number of pieces were ready,
hundreds of willing men and women, provided with ropes made of the bark
of the hibiscus, with light upper garments, and with leggins of the
Adam and Eve style, such as never feared mud and water, went to bring
down these timbers. Arranged by a captain in two lines, with drag-ropes
in hand, ready to obey the command of their chosen leader, they stood
waiting his order. At length comes the command, “Grasp the ropes; bow
the head; blister the hand; go; sweat!” And away they rush, through mud
and jungle, over rocks and streams, shouting merrily, and singing to
measure. Then comes the order, “Halt, drop drag-ropes, rest!” This is
repeated at longer or shorter intervals according to the state of the
ground.

I often went up to the woods, on foot of course, and grasped the rope,
and hauled with the rest to encourage and keep them in heart. We had no
oxen or horses in those days, for the days were _primitive_, and the
work was pioneer work. The trees, the jungle, the mud, the streams, and
the lava-fields were all primordial.

When the materials were brought together, we employed a Chinese
carpenter at a reasonable price, to frame and raise the building,
all his pay to be in trade, for “the golden age” had not yet dawned
on Hawaii. The natives, men and women, soon covered the rough frame
with thatching. There was no floor but the earth, and the only
windows were holes about three feet square left in the thatching on
the sides and ends. This was the first framed church edifice built in
Hilo, and in this building, capable of seating about 2,000 people,
we first welcomed Commodore Ap Catesby Jones, of the frigate _United
States_, with his officers and brass band. The courteous commodore and
his chaplain consented to deliver each an address of congratulation
and encouragement to the people for their ready acceptance of the
Gospel, and for their progress in Christian civilization. He alluded
to a former visit of his to Honolulu by order of the United States
Government, to investigate certain complaints made by a class of
foreign residents against the American missionaries, stating that on a
patient and careful hearing of the parties, the missionaries came out
triumphantly, and their abusers were put to shame.

Our people at this time had never heard the music of a brass band, and
the commodore kindly gave them a treat. After playing several sacred
songs which delighted the natives beyond all music they had before
heard, the band, at a signal from the commodore, struck up “Hail
Columbia.” An electric thrill rushed through the great congregation,
and all sprang to their feet in amazement and delight. Since then they
have become familiar with the music of the United States’, the English
and French navies.

[Sidenote: _A Church Dedication._]

Perhaps the most perfect band we have heard in Hilo was that of the
Duke of Edinburgh, who visited us in the steam frigate _Galatea_ in
1869.

When our first framed church building became old and dilapidated, we
decided on replacing it with an edifice of stone and mortar. But after
a year’s hard toil in bringing stones on men’s shoulders, and after
having dug a trench some six feet deep for the foundations without
coming to the bed-rock, we, by amicable agreement, dismissed our mason
and engaged two carpenters.

The corner-stone was laid November 14, 1857, and the building was
dedicated on the 8th of April, 1859. The material was good, and the
workmanship faithful and satisfactory. The whole cost was $13,000.

It was then the finest church edifice on the islands. On the day of
the dedication, there was a debt on the house of some $600, and it was
our hope and purpose to cancel the debt on that day. But the day was
stormy, the paths muddy, and the rivers were without bridges. Things
looked dark, but we were happily surprised to see the people flocking
in from all points until the house was crowded to its utmost capacity.

Prayers and a song of praise were offered, but we had resolved, by the
help of God, not to dedicate the house until the debt was paid to the
last farthing. So the people were called on by divisions, according
to their villages, to come forward with their offerings; and this was
done with such promptness, such order, and such quietness that we soon
counted and declared a contribution of over $800. When the result was
announced, a shout of joy went up to heaven.

The debt was paid, the house was dedicated, $200 were left in the
treasury, and the people went home rejoicing and praising the Lord.
On the 27th a contribution of more than $400 was taken, making our
dedication offerings $1,239. Our treasury for the meeting-house has
never been empty, though we have expended several thousand dollars more
in purchasing a large bell, in painting and repairing the house, and in
keeping it and the grounds neat and in good condition.

It was an affecting scene to see the old and decrepit, the poor widow,
and the droves of little children come forward with their gifts which
they had been collecting and saving for months, and offering them with
such cheerful gladness to the Lord.

In 1868 an awful earthquake tore in pieces stone walls and stone
houses, and rent the earth in various parts of Hilo, Puna, and Kau. Had
we built according to our original plan and agreement with the mason,
“our holy and beautiful house” would have become a heap of rubbish, and
our hearts would have sunk within us with sorrow. How true that “a
man’s heart deviseth his way, but the Lord directeth his steps.”

[Sidenote: _Bettered Lives._]

It was my habit to get all the help that could be obtained from
converts, and this was much. As the company of disciples increased,
“they went everywhere preaching the word.” The Lord ordained them,
not man. In every hamlet and village there were found some who were
moved by the Holy Ghost, and to whom the Spirit gave utterance; and it
was joyfully true that “where the Spirit of the Lord was, there was
liberty,” not to dispute and wrangle, not to speak vain and foolish
things, not to lie and deceive, but to utter the truth in love, without
the shackles of form and superstition, but with the freedom granted by
Christ.

How true the promise, “My people shall be willing in the day of my
power.” Willing to give up their sins, their enmity, their vile
practices, their pipes, their _ava_, and all their intoxicants; to
forgive and be forgiven; to return every man to the wife he had abused,
and every wife to the husband she had forsaken; to pay their old debts;
to labor with their hands for the supply of their physical wants; to
see that their children were in school, in religious meetings; to see
that prisons were emptied and churches filled, and that the poor, the
sick, the blind, and the lame were not forgotten; to see that the call
of love and the offers of life were heard by all. The objects called
for laborers, and they were ready at call. Sometimes ten, twenty, or
forty men were sent out, two and two, through all Puna and Hilo, into
all highways, hedges, jungles, and valleys, to “seek and to save the
lost,” the sick, the ignorant, the stupid, the timid, or the “remnant
of the giants” in idolatry. And they were drawn out by hundreds into
the light of the Gospel and the love of the Saviour. There was no
retreat among the hills or in the forests where these helpers did not
come, and no place where I did not precede, accompany, or follow them.
The women also toiled earnestly for souls. They met, prayed, read the
commission of the Great Prince, and went out two and two into all
the villages, exhorting, persuading, weeping, and praying, and their
influence was wonderful for good. They were taught by the Word and the
Spirit, and understood their work. With these helpers every village
became a guarded citadel of the Lord, and there were few lurking-places
for the enemy, no dark passages by which he might make approaches to
the camp of the saints.

So far as we could learn, there was not a house or a cabin in all these
districts where the voice of morning and evening prayer was not heard;
and in most places Scripture lessons and hymns were rehearsed, and
efforts, often very rude and inartistic, were made to sing the praises
of God.

[Sidenote: _Prayers of Faith._]

Previous to the great revival I had been pained at the cold and formal
prayers of the natives. All had seemed mechanical and heartless, and
in grief I had said, “I do not feel satisfied with this praying, it
seems but a thoughtless and unfeeling rehearsal of a lesson.” But when
the Spirit fell upon the people, all this was changed. Some of the
most unlettered and weak became mighty and prevailing wrestlers like
the patriarch Jacob. “The feeble among them were like David, and the
house of David as the angel of the Lord.” They took God at His word,
their faith was simple and childlike, unspoiled by tradition or vain
philosophy. They went “boldly to the throne of grace,” and yet with
eyes melted with tears, and hearts yearning with love for souls.

Often have I seen a whole assembly moved to tears and tenderness by
the prayers and wrestlings of one man. They plead the promises with no
apparent shadow of a doubt, and the answer often came speedily. Is it
not recorded for the assurance of faith that “Before they call I will
answer, and while they are yet speaking I will hear”? They were praying
with melting fervor for the Spirit, and He came, sometimes like the
dew of Hermon or the gentle rain, and sometimes “like a rushing mighty
wind,” filling the house with sobbing and with outcries for mercy.

Controversies among Christians always sadden me. Our warfare is against
sin and Satan; and Heaven’s “sacramental host” should never fall out
by the way, or spend an hour in their conflict with Hell in fighting
with one another.

Grasping and defending _vital truths_, and allowing kind and courteous
discussions of outward forms, the whole Church of Christ should clasp
hands and march shoulder to shoulder against the common foe. The many
and different church organizations, with their external rites, rules,
and preferences, never offend me where there is “the unity of the
spirit in the bonds of peace.” All Christians are bound by the supreme
law of heaven to love one another, not to bite and devour, nor to
indulge in “envy and strife.”

I believe in the beautiful rite of baptism, not as essential to
salvation, but as a sign and seal of faith in Christ.

I believe that the mode and the amount of water are indifferent, and
that every thinking man is at liberty to choose for himself so as to
satisfy his own conscience before God, whether by immersion, pouring,
or sprinkling; nor do I believe that the Bible warrants dogmatism,
division, or non-communion on this subject. For myself I prefer
sprinkling, not so much from the many discussions I have heard, or
the arguments I have read on the subject, as from the facts in my
experience.

[Sidenote: _Some Necessities of Baptism._]

Granting that this rite is designed to be _universal_ as is the Gospel,
Matt. xxviii. 19, I have often found it impossible to baptize by
immersion. I have found in parts of Hawaii, one, two, and five miles
from the sea, and as far from any pool of water sufficient to immerse
even the head, men, women, and children so old or so sick that they
could not be carried to any water fountain to be immersed; some ready
to die, and begging me with tears to baptize them and administer to
them the emblems of the body and blood of the Lord Jesus. They accepted
Christ with good evidence of faith and love, and welcomed His messenger
with tears of joy and gratitude.

And now let me ask with Peter, “Can any man forbid water that these
should not be baptized?”

Similar considerations apply to the communion of the Lord’s supper.
I have been in situations where it seemed a duty and a privilege to
administer this sacrament, but could get neither bread nor wine. Of
course this led to reflection. Shall I omit the sacrament? Shall it
be postponed for months, with the probability that some of these aged
and wasting forms will be laid in the dust within a few days or weeks?
Which is of the greater importance, the ordinance or the articles used
to symbolize and call to remembrance the death of the Lord Jesus? Do
not the food we eat and the water we drink sustain our mortal bodies,
and does not faith in the Saviour’s broken body and shed blood give
life to our souls? The argument seemed to me logical and conclusive.
And on further reflection that the bread we now use differs from that
used when the ordinance was first instituted, and that much of the
wine of this age is a poisoned mixture, the conclusion was further
strengthened that neither our bread nor our wine was essential to our
acceptable observance of the Lord’s supper.

We use bread at the Hilo churches, and for the cup a preparation
without alcohol or any poisonous drug; but in making my distant tours
we used the food and drink which sustains the life of the people,
whether bread-fruit, taro, or potato, and water.

VIII.

_Arrival of Catholic Missionaries--Admiral de
Tromelin--Proselytism--Controversies with the Priests--Arrival of
the Mormons--The Reformed Catholics--Bishop Staley--Lord George
Paulet._

The pioneer Catholic missionaries arrived in 1827, and were rejected by
the rulers.

This company was led by Rev. John Alexius Augustine Bachelot, who was
commissioned by Pope Leo XII. as “Apostolic Prefect of the Sandwich
Islands.” They landed without permission and refused to depart, under
the delusion that the Pope as the Vicegerent of Heaven had dominion
over all earthly principalities and powers, as if the earth were his
footstool. Then followed a long struggle, in which arrogance, intrigue,
and duplicity were freely exercised, and which conflict has continued
until this day. One step of aggression followed another until the
power of the French Government was invoked by the priests, and in 1839
Captain Laplace, commander of the French frigate _l’Artémise_, appeared
and made charges and demands which, it was then supposed, meant a
seizure of the Islands. But the Lord spared us.

Failing in this attempt, the French sloop-of-war _Embuscade_, Captain
Mallet, appeared in 1842 with fresh charges and demands, threatening
the king and the life of the kingdom. Fortunately royal commissioners
had been dispatched to England and France with plenary powers to settle
all difficulties amicably with these Governments, especially with the
French. Of course Captain Mallet had nothing to do, as the case had
been appealed to the supreme power.

In August, 1849, the French frigate _La Poursuivante_, Admiral de
Tromelin, came into Hilo with a French bishop and consul on board, who
made a pleasant and polite call at our house. From here the Admiral
sailed for Honolulu, where he brought new charges of grievances because
the French priests and the Catholic religion had been dishonored.

He went so far as to land his marines, and with martial music and
waving flag, enter the fort at Honolulu, throw down the guns from
the walls, fill up an old well, break up a few calabashes, etc. The
fort had no garrison, the gates were wide open, and there being no
resistance, it is reported that the gallant Admiral said to his
officers and marines: “Let us go on board; they won’t fight, and there
is no glory in this.” I relate the story as it was told me.

[Sidenote: _Catholic Proselytism._]

Rumors were afloat that the United States Commissioner then in
Honolulu had agreed, under the earnest request of the King and nobles,
to run up the United States flag as a signal of a protectorate so soon
as a hostile gun was fired from the frigate. It is supposed that the
Admiral felt that he had gone too far, and could not grasp the prize,
and therefore withdrew from the bloodless conflict, since which time we
have had no more threatening from the French Government, but have had
to meet what looks like Jesuitical tactics on all sides.

I have here given only a hasty sketch of the introduction of
Catholicism into these Islands, and for more detailed information
I will refer the reader to the histories of the Rev. Hiram Bingham
and James J. Jarves, Esq. These histories were written mostly at the
times and place of the troubles, and they present a fair and truthful
statement of the facts. Mr. Bingham’s history also affords a very full
and interesting view of the mission of the A. B. C. F. M. from the year
1820 to 1845.

Of this persistent aggression of the Catholics, Hilo and Puna have
had their full share. Priests were early stationed in these and the
adjoining districts, and they at once took a bold and defiant stand.
These emissaries confronted me everywhere. I often heard of them
as having gone just before me on my tours. They appointed meetings
near by my appointments, and at the same hour; they even came to my
congregations in anger to command some of their claimed neophytes to
leave the house.

Everywhere they perplexed and vexed the simple natives by telling
our best and most tried Christians that they were outside the true
Church and on their way to perdition. They taught the people that the
Protestants were all heretics and deceivers, that their ordinations
were invalid, their pretended marriages adultery, and their teachings
delusive.

They also appealed to the selfish and baser feelings of the natives
to carry their point, encouraging them in the cultivation and use of
tobacco, and assuring them that if they would turn Catholics they
would never be called on to give to the priests, to assist in building
churches, to contribute at monthly concerts, or be taxed in any way to
support religion. Thus they gained weak followers. But when the priests
changed their policy and began to call on their proselytes for help in
building churches and supporting their teachers, many of the natives
saw the duplicity and left them at once.

When a church member was under discipline or had been suspended for
notorious sins, he was often sought and received into the Catholic
church. Liars, thieves, drunkards, adulterers, were flattered with the
belief that all would come out well with them if they were only in the
_true Church_!

[Sidenote: _Catholic Proselytism._]

This “daubing with untempered mortar,” and crying “Peace, peace, when
there was no peace,” was a bold and impudent opposition to sound church
discipline, encouraging delinquents to harden themselves in sin. It
became “a refuge of lies,” a hiding-place of transgressors, a snare to
catch souls.

This determined and unrelenting attack of the papal powers upon
the church of Hilo and Puna greatly increased the cares and labors
of the pastor. I delivered more than thirty public lectures on the
history, character, and predictions of the papacy, besides continuous
and unwearied private efforts with those who were perplexed by the
sophistry of the priests. And I had the comfort of knowing that many
of my people became more than a match for the priests in faith and
argument.

A priest one day assailed one of the native Christians by asserting
that all the American missionaries came to the Islands to get money.

“Ah!” said the native, “you believe that, do you?” “Most certainly,”
said the priest. “Well, your belief is most marvelous. We Hawaiians
think that those who are in search of gold and silver avoid such poor
people as we are and go where money is plenty. It is most strange that
you should believe that Mr. Bingham, Mr. Thurston, and others came here
to get money when there was no money in this country. Do you think them
such _fools_?”

Another good old native was accosted one day thus: “Are you one of
Mr. Coan’s disciples?” to which he replied, “I am one of the disciples
of Christ.” “What is the _true Church_?” asked the priest. “Why do
you priests cast the second commandment out of your catechism?” In a
flurry--“The second commandment, the second commandment! I was not
talking about the second commandment. I asked you _what is the true
Church_?” Good old Paul replied again: “And why do you cast the second
commandment out of your catechism?” “What, what! what do you mean--I
tell you I am not talking about the second commandment, but about the
_true Church_.” Steady to his point, Paul coolly and emphatically
repeated again, “Why do you cast the second commandment out of your
catechism?” Turning on his heels the Jesuit went off exclaiming, “Paul,
you are an old stubborn fool.” But he never assailed him again.

Another priest meeting Barnabas saluted him with much politeness, and
offering a little flattery, began to express great desire that they
both might escape delusion and find the one and only way to heaven.
Then he began with the usual opening question: “What is the true
Church?” Barnabas calmly replied, “The true Church of God is composed
of all true believers who love and obey the Lord Jesus, of every age
and name and nation on earth and in heaven.” This comprehensive truth
began to ruffle the priest, and he tried to parry the point of the
Spirit’s sword by syllogistic logic, saying, “There can be _only
one_ true Church.” Barnabas saw the premises, and anticipating the
reasoning and conclusion, he cut the matter short. “I have answered
your question, and now, as you and I both have enough to do, I bid you
good-morning”--and as he left the priest he heard him murmuring, “Poor
deluded and stubborn heretic.”

[Sidenote: _A Passage at Arms._]

One of their most audacious acts remains to be recorded. I had once
visited Mr. Paris, at Kau, on the occasion of transferring those
members of my church from that district to the care of Mr. Paris.

On Monday I was returning toward Hilo. When near the center of Kau, as
I was passing a Catholic church under the foot-hills of Mauna Loa, I
was stopped by about two hundred Catholics, headed by a French priest,
who challenged me then and there to a debate. This was in a narrow pass
along the road which was so completely obstructed by the collected
Catholics as to prevent my passing on. The challenge I respectfully
declined, and as it was late in the afternoon, and I had some eight or
ten miles of rough road to travel before I slept, I begged the mob to
open the road, and suffer me to pass peacefully on my way. This the
priest refused, commanding the people to keep the passage blocked, and
with lifted hands and clenched fists, he declared that this Coan, this
opposer of the Catholics, should never pass until he had accepted the
challenge for debate. Again and again I calmly declined, and asked for
a passage through the crowd. The priest became furious and his whole
frame trembled with excitement, while the people around him seemed
fierce as wolves.

Not being able to proceed, I dismounted and tried to elbow my way
through, leading my horse. The priest kept right before me, with hands
quivering, and voice roaring: “_Who_ is the head of the Church? _Who is
the head of the Church?_” For a time I made no reply, but quietly tried
to work my way along, till at last I spoke out in full and clear tones,
“The Lord Jesus Christ, He is the Head of the Church.” Immediately the
priest roared out at the top of his voice, “That is a lie, Peter is the
head of the Church.”

Several faithful natives were with me, watching with intense interest
the scene. When this assertion of Peter’s headship thundered from the
priest, one of the men named Sampson, a bold and powerful man, could
hold in no longer, and with the voice of a giant, and the arm of Samson
of old, he cried out, “Clear the road, and let my teacher pass,” and
with the word came the act; with his strong arms he scattered the mob
to the right and left, and I followed on through the passage thus
opened. As I mounted my horse and rode quietly on, the howling crowd
shouted: “He flees! he flees! He is a coward.”

[Sidenote: _The Mormons in Hilo._]

Some of the leaders of this mob afterward left the Catholics, and
repented with tears.

This priest, recognizing me upon the road one day afterward, at once
turned into the bushes, rather than to meet me. I never met him again,
and it was not many months before the strong young man was dead.

Not many years after the introduction of the papal priests came a drove
of Mormon emissaries. These spread themselves in squads all over the
group like the frogs of Egypt.

They made an early descent upon Hilo. At first they employed flattering
words. They called at once on me, asserted their divine commission,
affirmed the heavenly origin of their order, enlarged on the new and
sure revelations made to Joe Smith and his successors, the prophets,
and invited me to join them, assuring me that I would then see the
full-orbed light of truth, whereas I had only seen its faint dawn. “You
are a good man,” said they, “and have done what you could; but we have
come to teach you the way of God more perfectly, and if you will unite
with us and come into this new light, your people will all soon be born
again, _i. e._, be dipped in water, and then by the laying on of hands
they will receive the Holy Ghost, and all the signs will follow.” I
asked, “What signs?” They replied, “Speaking with tongues, healing the
sick, and all miracles.” I then said, “Let us take up the ‘_signs_’ in
order, and see if you Mormons have them. Can you cast out devils?”
“Yes.” “But, if testimony is true, many of your people, like other
sinners, act as if the devil were still in them. ‘They shall speak with
tongues.’ Can you do it?” “Oh, yes, we can at Utah.” “And why not here,
where you need the gift more? And why do you ask for a teacher of the
native language? Do you believe you could handle poisonous serpents,
and drink deadly things with impunity?” “We can heal the sick.” “And so
can I. But do not Mormons die?” “Oh, yes.” “Can you raise the dead?”
“The Mormons at Salt Lake can do it.” “Well, if you will go with me to
a fresh grave near by, and raise a dead body to life, I will join you
to-day.” This silenced them on miracles and signs. And when I produced
my copy of “The Book of Mormon,” and showed them I knew more than they
about the doctrines of the faith to which they were trying to make
me a proselyte, they were confounded, and went away despairing of my
becoming a convert.

But for years numbers of this deluded sect traveled over these
districts, using all their powers of persuasion, not excepting lying
and deceit, to draw the people after them. When once they succeeded in
making a disciple they would quarter themselves in his house until he
had cooked the last pig, goat, or fowl, and until his taro, potatoes,
and bananas were gone, all the while boasting of their great love, and
comparing themselves with the American missionaries, who they said
came here to get salaries and to oppress the people.

[Sidenote: _Mormon Tactics._]

I met the Mormons often on my tours, and had abundant evidence from
repeated conversations, and from the testimony of the most reliable
members of the church, of their ignorance, bigotry, impudence, and
guile.

Finding that they could not prevail by flattery, they assumed a bold
front, denounced the American missionaries as false pretenders,
deceivers, and blind guides, without baptism, without ordination, and
without credentials from heaven. One of their number came into our
congregation on a Sabbath, and when I arose at the close of the service
to dismiss the assembly, the Mormon arose, and with a loud voice gave
notice that he would preach immediately. The great congregation moved
quietly toward the church door, when he placed himself in the door-way
to prevent their egress, demanding in loud, boisterous language that
they all remain and hear “_the true gospel_.” Steadily the crowd moved
to the door, and pressing the arrogant intruder aside, returned to
their homes.

Though numbers of low characters at first turned after the Mormons, the
sect soon ran out here, and now they have neither church, or school, or
meeting-house in all Hilo and Puna.

The entrance of Bishop Staley into the Hawaiian Islands with his corps
of priests and sisters has gone into history. Receiving the title of
“Lord Bishop of Honolulu,” he contemplated the supplanting of the
American missionaries, the conversion of the foreign residents and
natives to his faith, and the establishment of one grand Episcopal
Diocese over all the islands of the group.

The whole scheme was planned, and he soon began to move with his clergy
for its execution.

Having established several stations in Hawaii and other islands of the
Archipelago, he came to Hilo with one of his clergy.

Ignoring practically the church which had long been established here
under its present pastor, and all who had labored to gather and to
guide the flock, he walked boldly in as if by divine right, appointed
his meetings to preach in the English and Hawaiian languages, and
announced that he would at once establish two congregations, one of
Hawaiians, and one of English-speaking residents.

In the further pursuance of his scheme, he appointed two boards of
trustees or agents, one composed of members of my church, and one of
foreign residents. These agents he instructed and empowered to open
subscriptions, collect funds, proselyte the people, and make all
necessary arrangements for buildings and for gathering congregations.
He then presented the appointed curate of Hilo, and engaged board and
lodging for him.

[Sidenote: _The Lord Bishop of Honolulu._]

All this was done as if by royal authority, and without condescending
to confer with or to know the incumbent pastor and his associate
laborers. The arrangements having been completed, his lordship returned
to Honolulu, taking the curate-elect with him to get his baggage,
with the promise that he should return immediately to exercise his
priestly functions for the cure of souls, and as the only authenticated
messenger of Heaven to the benighted and perishing heathen of Hilo.
They came, they saw, they went, but they did not soon return.

It was found that there was one factor in the plot which the shrewd
bishop had overlooked, and that was the _will_ of the people of Hilo.
They had somehow imbibed the doctrine of “Free Agency,” which implies
will and choice and personality.

The bishop’s theory was smooth and perfect, but its practical execution
was so clogged by friction that it failed of success. Letters followed
Bishop Staley to Honolulu stating that neither of his boards had
secured a proselyte or a dollar, that his agents did not act, and that
all things were going on in the old way. This was a damper surely, and
it might be an extinguisher.

But the bishop rallied and appeared again in Hilo; appointed meetings
as before, and wished to know the reasons for the inactivity of his
Hilo agents. His efforts were of no avail. The people could not see
what allegiance they owed to a lord and bishop created in London, or
why they should forsake their “own and their fathers’ friends,” to whom
under God they owed all they knew of civilization and of Christian
truth.

The Reformed Catholics have never established a church in Hilo, and it
is not known that they have a single convert here.

We wish to be liberal and to labor in loving harmony with all who love
our Lord and Saviour, and who pray heartily for His coming and kingdom,
but we pity all who are exclusive, and who vainly set themselves up as
the only true Church.

During the year of 1843, the English corvette _Carysfort_, Lord George
Paulet commanding, made two visits to Hilo.

This young Briton had seized the reins of the Hawaiian Government,
hauled down the national flag, dethroned the king, and established
what he called a Provisional Government. The country was in confused
agitation, and a dark cloud veiled our political sky.

When he arrived he went in person to our prison, commanding the keeper
to open the doors, discharge the prisoners, and give him the keys. The
guilty offenders and criminals feeling that their hour of triumph had
come, rushed out jubilant, and went whither they desired.

[Sidenote: _Lord George Paulet._]

Lord George soon called on us, and introduced himself as the savior
of the country. He was a young, jolly, and sanguine man, of pleasant
manners and very sociable. He seemed at ease, yet self-conscious.
“Well,” said he, “you are now under the British flag; how do you like
it?”

“Well, sir, we choose to be under the Hawaiian.”

“No, no! but the English Government is strong, and your protection is
sure.” “True, but we desire that this weak and small people should be
free and independent. It is a right which should not be taken from them
without just cause.”

“Well, well, but you would rather be under the flag of England than of
France?” “That may be, but we choose the flag of the country for which
we have labored.” “You could not live under the Hawaiian flag. The
French were determined to take your islands as they took Tahiti. I knew
it, and I hastened hither before them and saved the country, and you
ought to thank me.”

All this was spoken in great good humor and self-satisfaction, and his
lordship shook hands and bowed a pleasant good-morning.

He returned to Honolulu, and our native police went immediately in
search of the prisoners he had set free and returned them to the
prisons. Hearing of this, and that the same thing had occurred
in Lahaina, he hastened back with all canvas spread, landed with
body-guard and side arms, went to the prison and opened again its
doors, setting the inmates free. He then inquired for the native judge
who had countermanded his orders by returning the prisoners to jail,
and hastened in person to his house, as the natives said, “_piha i ka
huhu_,” filled with wrath.

But the wide-awake judge having had a hint of his coming, and not
caring to end his judgeship in prison, stole out at the back door and
could not be found.

The commander, to hold the fort, organized a police mostly of
foreigners of a certain class, some of whom had, I think, seen the
inside of a prison, and others who might be fair candidates for such
a place, and giving them strict orders to see that his commands were
executed, he left Hilo for the second and last time. Our new police
were greatly magnified by their office, and were somewhat haughty and
imperious during their brief authority.

Lord George appointed his officers, civil and military, over all
the Islands, enlisted and drilled soldiers among the natives and
foreigners, and taught them rebellion against their lawful sovereign.

[Sidenote: _The Liberation._]

After five months of “torment,” the time of the reign of the locusts
in the Apocalypse, the flag-ship of the good Admiral Thomas arrived
in Honolulu. The English flag was removed from all its staves, the
Hawaiian was raised in all our ports, and the commander of the proud
_Carysfort_ was ordered to salute the royal signal he had dishonored.
To this day it waves and flutters over an independent kingdom, and the
_Carysfort_ with her lordly commander has been seen no more in our
waters.

IX.

_Isolation of the Mission Families--Sufferings on the Inter-Island
Voyages--Their Dangers--Parting with our Children--School
Discussions and Festivals--Native Preachers--Cheerful
Givers--Changes and Improvements._

In the early years of the mission, the trials of separation were often
severe. Hawaii was not only far from all the outer world, but our
islands were separated one from another by wide and windy channels,
with no regular and safe packets, and no postal arrangements, or
regular means of communication.

Add to this, many parts of the islands were so broken by ravines, by
precipices, and dangerous streams, and so widely sundered by broad
tracts of lava, without house, or pool of water to refresh the weary
and thirsty traveler, and without roads withal, that social intercourse
was impossible without great toil and suffering.

As to beloved friends and kindred in the far-off fatherland, it seemed
like an age before we could speak to them and receive answers.

[Sidenote: _Island Remoteness._]

I think it was eighteen months before we received answers to our first
letters sent from Hilo to the United States, a period long enough for
revolutions among the nations as well as in families.

All our flour, rice, sugar, molasses, and many other articles of food,
with clothing, furniture, medicines, etc., came in sailing vessels
around Cape Horn, a voyage of four to six months, so that our news
became old and our provisions stale before they reached us, while our
stationery might be exhausted, our medicines expended, our flour mouldy
and full of worms, before the new supplies arrived. Many a time have we
been obliged to break up our barrel of hardened flour with an axe, or
chisel and mallet.

But after all our inter-island communication was often our more severe
trial. A few old schooners, leaky and slow, mostly owned by native
chiefs, floated about, sometimes lying becalmed under the lee of an
island for a whole week, in a burning sun, with sails lazily flapping,
boom swinging from side to side, and gaff mournfully squeaking aloft.

These vessels were usually officered and manned by indolent and
unskilful natives, who made dispatch, cleanliness, safety, and comfort
no factors in a voyage. They would often be four and even six weeks
in making a trip from Honolulu to Hilo and back, a total distance of
some 600 miles. They knew nothing of the motto, “Time is money.” So
long as they were supplied with fish and poi, all was well. They would
sometimes lash the helm while they went to eat, then lie down and
sleep. We have often found our vessel in this condition at midnight,
captain and all hands fast asleep, and the schooner left to the control
of wind and wave, and without a lamp burning on board. In addition some
vessels were without a single boat for help in the hour of peril.

The cabins being small and filthy, the missionaries slept on deck,
each family providing its own food and blankets, and all exposed to
wind, heat, storm, and drenching waves which often broke upon the deck.
Upon a schooner of forty to sixty tons, there might be one hundred
natives with their dogs and pigs, stoutly contesting deck-space with
them; and often fifty members of missionary families, parents and
children together. These were the families on Molokai and Maui, with,
in many cases, those of the several stations on Hawaii. The crowd was
distressing, and the sickness and suffering can never be told. Mothers
with four or five children, including a tender nursling, would lie
miserably during the hot days under a burning sun, and by night in the
rain, or wet with the dashing waves, pallid and wan, with children
crying for food, or retching with seasickness. I have seen some of
these frail women with their pale children brought to land, exhausted,
upon the backs of natives, carried to their homes on litters, and laid
upon couches to be nourished till their strength returned.

Does any one ask why these delicate mothers left their homes to suffer
thus nigh unto death?

[Sidenote: _Sorrowful Voyages._]

The answer is this. For the isolated mission families to visit one
another at will, was out of the question. Once a year, provision such
as described was made to bring all together in Honolulu, in what was
styled “General Meeting.” So strong was the social and Christian
instinct, that nearly every parent and child would brave the dangers
and submit to the sufferings of these terrible passages, rather than
deny the intense heart-longings for personal intercourse with their
fellow-laborers “in the kingdom and patience of Jesus Christ.”

We all went with our households and were received cordially by our dear
brethren and sisters in Honolulu, where in consultation on the things
pertaining to the mission work, in prayer and praise and in social
intercourse, we usually spent three or four weeks. Daily meetings were
often held with the children, when with united endeavors we sought
to lead them to Him who has said: “Suffer little children to come
unto me.” And many of those little ones dated their deepest religious
impressions from those meetings.

Through the providential care of Him who was with us, no lives were
lost in all these dangerous voyages of the early members of the
mission. Two of these leaky, ill-managed vessels were, as we suppose,
sunk in the night while attempting to cross the channel from Maui to
Hawaii, with about two hundred natives on board, eighty of whom were my
church members. Not a spar, not a box nor a bucket from these vessels
has been seen from that day to this.

It is probable that the helm was lashed, and that captain and all hands
were asleep when a squall struck the sails, capsized the vessel, and
all were plunged without warning into the dark abyss of waters.

On one of these lost vessels my second daughter had engaged passage
to return from Honolulu to Hilo, in company with our neighbor, Judge
Austin, and his wife and children. By a sudden impulse and just before
the embarkation, the party changed their minds and took passage on
another schooner bound to the western coast of Hawaii, where they were
safely landed, making their way thence to Hilo by land, a distance of
about seventy-five miles. Had they taken the ill-fated schooner, we
should never have seen our daughter and our neighbors again on earth.

[Sidenote: _The Severing of Families._]

Another trial of painful character has been borne by the missionaries
in the sending of their tender offspring away from their island home
to the fatherland. Surrounded by the low and vulgar throng of early
mission days, with no good schools, and loaded with cares and labors
for the native race, most of the missionaries have felt it a duty
to their children to seek for them an asylum in a land of schools
and churches and Christian civilization. The struggle of parting has
sometimes been agonizing on both sides. Often the child would plead
piteously to be suffered to remain, while at the same time the
mother’s heart yearned over her darling one; but a stern sense of duty
nerved her to the sacrifice, and with a last kiss of farewell she would
commit her son or daughter to the care of the ship-master, and turn
away with a crushed heart to spend sleepless hours in prayers and tears.

Ah! how many of these mothers remember these heart-struggles with a
melting agony, and how many of those scalding tears the Father of
Mercies has known, with the prayers that wrung them out!

Our two elder children remained at their island home until they reached
an age when the thought of separation was less cruel. They then made
the voyage around Cape Horn under the kind care of Capt. James Willis
and his excellent wife.

Later, our second daughter and son were sent to the United States under
favorable circumstances. Our youngest son has returned, and lives near
the old homestead.

Once or twice a year the school teachers and leading members of the
church were called together in Hilo for the discussion of important
questions, and for prayer.

This assembly numbered one hundred, and often more. They came as
delegates or representatives from all the villages, either as
volunteers or as chosen by the people. When assembled for deliberation
a scribe was elected, and a book of records kept, in which minutes of
all important acts were entered. The duration of such meetings varied
from three days to a week, according to the importance and interest of
the discussions.

These representatives we call _Lunas_, overseers. None of them were
ordained as deacons or elders, but their office work was much like
that of class-leaders in the Methodist church. They reported the state
of the schools and of the church members. A list of overtures was
prepared, embracing topics for consideration on a great variety of
subjects pertaining to “The life that now is and to that which is to
come.” The meetings were often pervaded with a delightful spirit of
tenderness and Christian harmony. Prayers were fervent, and there were
exhibitions of native eloquence which were marvelous.

These were excellent occasions for the pastor to instruct the leading
minds of his flock, not only in the rules of order pertaining to
deliberative bodies, but in the duties of parental, filial, fraternal,
matrimonial, social, economical, civil, and spiritual life. The range
of subjects was wide, but simple and practical, and the fruits were
apparent. Many beside the delegates came in, day after day, to these
meetings, both of men and women.

[Sidenote: _School Festivals._]

These were sometimes local and sometimes general. When the schools of
the two districts assembled at the central station, I think we have
had two thousand in the exhibition. Usually the schools would be
dressed in uniforms, each choosing for itself the color which their
tastes dictated. All floated flags and banners of a tasteful style,
and all marched to music, vocal or instrumental, and often prepared by
themselves or their teachers. Some made flutes of the bamboo, and some
composed sweet songs with simple but pleasing music.

Their marchings and simple evolutions, with songs and fluttering flags,
attracted the attention of all, and many came out to witness the gala
picture.

The marching over, the children were arranged under a broad canopy of
green branches, where hymns were sung, addresses made, prayers offered,
and then all partook of an ample feast. Young and old alike were
jubilant.

As numbers of our young and active men desired more full and specific
instruction in the doctrines of the Bible and the duties of life than
they gained in our common exercises, I received about twenty into a
class for daily instruction in systematic theology, Scripture exegesis,
sermonizing, etc.

This school was kept up in convenient terms for several years. It was
not designed to make pastors, but to train a class of more intelligent
workers than the common people. Some of these have since become
preachers and pastors at home, and some have gone to labor in heathen
lands.

The whole number of preachers and missionaries who have gone out from
the Hilo church and boarding-school is: on foreign missions twelve,
with their wives; in the home field, nineteen, or thirty-one ministers
in all.

From the beginning, the Hawaiian churches were taught the duty and
the pleasure of giving to the needy. All the missionaries inculcated
this doctrine, so that it became one of the essential fruits of their
faith. They were not only taught to provide for themselves and their
households, but also to “labor with their hand that they might have to
give to him that lacketh.”

They received these instructions cheerfully, and the stranger, the
friendless, the sick, the unfortunate, and all in distress are cared
for, and there is less physical suffering from hunger and want in this
than in most countries in Christendom.

All this is, of course, favored by the mildness of the climate, but
the disposition and the habit of helping those who need are almost
universal in these islands.

For long years after the arrival of the pioneer missionaries, the
people had no silver and gold, but they had food and kapas and hands
and hearts to help. They gave as they could of their substance; a
little arrowroot, dried fish or vegetables, a stick of firewood, or
a _kapa_. In 1840, the Wilkes Expedition came, and brought silver
dollars; for want of small change, Capt. Wilkes ordered a large amount
of Mexican dollars to be cut into halves and quarters. The natives have
since fully learned the use of coined money.

[Sidenote: _Cheerful Givers._]

It has been my habit to preach on some branch of Christian kindness
on the first Sabbath in every month, and the monthly concert
prayer-meeting has always been kept up in Hilo. The people have been
taught that “it is better to give than to receive,” and that “the Lord
loveth a cheerful giver.” They have given freely for the missions in
Micronesia, and hundreds of dollars have already come back to our
mission treasury from those recently savage islands, so that our
natives think they see a literal fulfillment of the blessed promise,
“Cast thy bread upon the waters, for thou shalt find it after many
days.”

They see also that although the Hilo church has given more than one
hundred thousand dollars for the kingdom of God, that they have a
“hundred-fold” more now than when they began.

Indolent and vicious foreigners have often expressed great pity for our
poor natives because they had been trained by “the cruel and covetous
missionaries” to give for the objects of benevolence; but it has now
and then appeared that some of these tender-hearted strangers would not
scruple to eat the natives’ fish and fowl and _poi_ without pay, or to
drive a hard bargain with them in trade, or to refuse to pay an honest
debt. Even Catholic priests professed to pity the Hawaiians because
of the heavy burdens laid upon them by their teachers! And the Mormon
apostles told our people that the Lord “hated and abhorred our New
Moons.”

As our monthly concerts occurred on the first Sunday of every month,
the natives called them “Mahina hou,” which literally means new moon,
or new month; the word “mahina,” moon, being their name for month, or
the division of time marked by the moon. This wicked and deceitful
catch of the Mormons upon the term for monthly concert so troubled and
staggered my people that I went through my whole field, expounding in
every village the first chapter of Isaiah, and the troubled minds were
relieved and reëstablished.

The contributions for benevolence have been given with great apparent
cheerfulness, as if in thorough understanding that “the Lord loveth a
_cheerful_ giver.”

Our custom has been to have the donors come forward and deposit their
offerings upon the table in front of the pulpit, and there has been
an animation and enthusiasm on such occasions most grateful to the
pastor’s heart to witness. I have seen mothers bringing their babes
in their arms, or leading their toddling children, that these little
ones might deposit a coin upon the table. If at first the child clung
to the shining silver as to a plaything, the mother would shake the
baby’s hand to make it let go its hold, and earnestly persevere in her
efforts to teach the tender ones the _act_ of giving before they knew
the purpose. There have been instances where the dying have left with
wife or husband their contribution to be brought forward at the monthly
concert after their death. Such facts make a touching impression.

[Sidenote: _The Monthly Contribution._]

From our small beginnings of four or five dollars a month, we increased
gradually, till the amount has sometimes been two hundred a month.
Before our church was divided our collections amounted yearly to
several thousands, and in one case were as high as six thousand; and
even after we had set off six churches from the mother church, we have
collected over five thousand dollars from the remaining church.

Our people are now greatly diminished by death, and by being drawn away
to the numerous plantations of the islands, upon ranches, into various
industries with foreigners, and by hundreds into Honolulu, and on board
vessels, and yet our monthly collections average more than one hundred
dollars.

These contributions have been widely distributed in the United States
and in other parts; while many thousands of dollars have gone to
sustain our missions in the Marquesas Islands and in Micronesia.

We have also given liberally to sustain our home-work--church building,
Christian education, relief of the poor, and other objects.

When we arrived in Hilo there was but one framed house. There were no
streets, no bridges, no gardens and only a few foreign trees.

Now our town is laid out in streets all named, and with every
dwelling-house numbered. The town is adorned with beautiful shade and
fruit trees, with gardens and shrubbery, vines, and a great variety of
flowers. The scene is like a tropical Paradise. We have read of

“Sweet fields arrayed in living green,”

and here they are spread out before us even on this side of Jordan.

We have foliage of every shade of green, all intermingled; the plumes
of the lofty cocoa and royal palms waving, and the leaves of the mango,
the breadfruit, the alligator-pear, the rose apple, the tamarind, the
loquot, the plum, the pride of India, the eucalyptus, and trailing and
climbing vines, with many-tinted flowers, all glistening and fluttering
in the bright sun and the soft breezes of our tropical abode.

Formerly all our streams were crossed as best they might be, or
suffered to run and roar, to sparkle and foam, to leap their
precipices, and to plunge undisturbed into the sea. Over these brooks
and rivers, in town, and through the district of Hilo, more than fifty
bridges have been built, some of them costing four thousand dollars.

[Sidenote: _Sugar Culture._]

Once our fertile soil produced very little except kalo and the sweet
potato, with a few indigenous fruits; now fruits and vegetables have
increased ten-fold in variety and value. But the great staple product
of the district is sugar.

During our residence here there have been erected seventeen sugar mills
with their feeding plantations, whose total value would probably be
more than one million of dollars, and whose products might be more than
two millions.

If our Government would take hold earnestly of road-making, with the
aid of private enterprise, the value of Hilo soil and of our industries
might be increased more than four-fold in as many years.

Sailing along the emerald coast of Hilo, one sees the smoke-stacks
of the sugar mills, the fields of waving canes almost touching one
another, and the little white villages attached to each plantation,
lending the charm of beauty and variety to the scenery.

The mercantile and mechanical business of our town is greatly increased
by these plantations. Mechanical shops are abundant; and so are shops
of various character, many of which are owned by Chinamen.

But the plantations do not replenish our town with Hawaiians; on the
contrary, while foreigners of many nationalities, especially the
Chinese, are increasing, our native population is perishing, or mixing
its blood with that of foreign races.

Another great change is, that the people are, or may be if they will,
all freeholders. The Bill of Rights given by Kamehameha III., followed
by a liberal constitution, and by a code of laws, gave to every man the
right to himself, to his family, to hold land in fee simple, and to the
avails of his own skill and industry. This was what no common Hawaiian
had ever enjoyed before; and so great was the change that a large class
of the natives could not believe it to be true. Many thought it to be
a ruse to tempt them to build better houses, fence the lands, plant
trees, and make such improvements in cultivation as should enrich the
chiefs, who were the hereditary owners of the soil, while to the old
tenants no profit would accrue. The parcels of land on which the people
were living were granted to them by a royal commission on certain easy
conditions.

Lands were also put into market at nominal prices, so that every man
might obtain a piece if he would. I have known thousands of acres sold
for twenty-five cents, other thousands for twelve and a half cents, and
still others for six and a quarter cents an acre. These lands were, of
course, at considerable distances from towns and harbors. But even rich
lands near Hilo and other ports sold at one, two, or three dollars per
acre.

[Sidenote: _The New and the Old Government._]

Thus the people were encouraged to become landowners, to build
permanent dwellings, and to improve their homesteads with fences,
trees, and a better cultivation. Gradually many came to believe in
the new order of things and to improve the golden opportunity, but
others doubted and suffered it to pass unimproved. Those who accepted
or bought land now find its value increased ten, and, in some cases, a
hundred fold.

The organizing of a constitutional government under a limited monarchy
with its several departments, legislative, executive, and judicial, and
the admission of the common people to take part in the enactment and
execution of laws, and the right of trial by jury, produced a vast and
sudden change throughout the kingdom; and to this day it is an open
question whether there was not too much liberty granted to the people
before they had been sufficiently trained to appreciate and to use it.
It may be doubted whether universal suffrage and trial by jury has been
a benefit to the country.

The old rule of the chiefs was liable to great oppression and abuse,
but where the irresponsible chief was thoughtful and righteous, justice
was administered promptly and often wisely, without the interference of
quibbling pettifoggers and unscrupulous lawyers.

On one occasion when Dr. Judd and his family were our guests, he hired
men to take them by land to the western side of the island, where
they were to embark for Honolulu. There were about twelve men thus
positively engaged, with wages specified and accepted. The hour for
departure came; the men were all present; the party, with baggage, all
ready; and then the natives struck for double pay!

I said to the Doctor, “Go straight to our chief woman,” who, like
Deborah of old, was our judge and sole ruler. He went. Her _posse
comitatus_ were on the ground in twenty minutes, and the strikers were
found guilty and put to hard work in one hour without counsel of lawyer
or the aid of a jury.

At another time, a rabble becoming angry at some sailors who landed in
the boat of a whale-ship, seized the boat and were carrying it inland
as an act of reprisal. Old Opiopio called out her posse of strong arms,
seized the men with the boat, put them all in prison, and returned the
boat to the ship. Such prompt acts of justice struck the people with
awe, and led them to reverence “the powers that be.”

These are noble exceptions; but we now have a large set of intriguing
lawyers who teach their clients to lie and to bribe witnesses, so
that often “justice falls in the streets,” the most guilty escape
unpunished, and the innocent suffer.

Still there is no going back, nor do we wish it; for in spite of
all the eddies and swirls, the back-sets and snags, the stream
of civilization flows onward, and, with good pilots and skillful
navigators, we trust the ship of state will be saved from wreck.

_Hawaiian Kings--The Kamehamehas--Lunalilo--Kalakaua, the Reigning
King--The Foreign Church in Hilo--Organization of Native Churches
under Native Pastors._

Tradition and history alike tell us of Kamehameha I., the Cæsar
of Hawaii, the iron-framed warrior, the first legislator, and the
first law-giver of the Hawaiian race. We are told how he warred
and conquered, and how he united all the islands and all the petty
principalities under one chief. There are men still living who have
seen this stern old king. He died in 1819.

Liholiho, styled Kamehameha II., was the reigning sovereign when the
first band of missionaries arrived in 1820. With his queen he visited
England, where both died, their remains being returned to Honolulu in
the British ship _Blonde_, commanded by Lord Byron, the cousin of the
poet. Kamehameha III., son of Kamehameha I., was on the Hawaiian throne
when I arrived at the Islands, having been proclaimed not long before.

He was then a young and mild prince, greatly honored and loved by the
whole nation. The natives loved to style him “The Good King.” Bad men,
both foreigners and natives, beguiled him into some unworthy habits;
but his disposition was kind and amiable, and he was the king who gave
to the people a liberal constitution with all its attendant blessings.

During the great awakening which spread over the Islands in 1837 and
onward, he was greatly impressed with the importance of spiritual
things. He was not only an attendant on divine service on the Lord’s
day, but he was often in the prayer-meetings, apparently an earnest
seeker after truth. He was also willing to listen to wise counsels;
and during his reign his Government enacted a law forbidding the
introduction and sale of intoxicating liquors in this kingdom. The
nation became a great temperance society, with the king at its head;
and it was reported that he said he would rather die than drink another
glass of liquor.

During his year of abstinence he seemed like a new man. He was awake
to all the interests of his kingdom, visited the different islands,
addressed large assemblies, and greatly increased the love and homage
of his people.

[Sidenote: _Kamehameha III._]

His visits to Hilo were like a benediction; the people flocked around
him as they would around a father, and he seemed like a father to
them. He visited our families, dined and supped with us, and gave us
free opportunities to converse with him, not only on the interests
of his kingdom, but also on his own spiritual interests and his
personal relations to God and to the eternal future. He has gone with
me into an upper chamber where we conversed together as brothers and
knelt in humble prayer before the mercy-seat of the King Eternal. On
one occasion, when he attended our Sabbath service, I preached from
Jer. xxiii. 24, “Can any hide himself in secret places that I shall
not see him? saith the Lord.” The doctrine of God’s omnipresence and
omniscience was the subject.

The king seemed one of the most earnest hearers in the congregation,
often bowing his head in assent to what was said. For months he seemed
nearly ready to unite with the visible church, and his true friends
rejoiced over him.

But the spoiler came. He that “goeth about as a roaring lion seeking
whom he may devour,” was lying in wait for him. The French came with
their fire and thunder, threatening his crown and kingdom if the
prohibition law on intoxicants was not repealed; and the British lion
was ready to stand by the French eagle.

The king was called a fool for coming under the influence of Protestant
missionaries. He was, as report said, advised to assert his royal
prerogative of independence, and urged to drink with his official
and distinguished friends. The poor man, through fear and flattery,
yielded, and his doom from that hour was sealed. The old thirst was
rekindled within him. A despair of reformation seemed to come over him;
the fiery dragon held him fast. He continued to yield to his appetite
and to the solicitations of his false friends, and died December
15, 1854, in his forty-first year. On the same day Prince Alexander
Liholiho, his adopted son, was proclaimed king, under the style of
Kamehameha IV.

This young king was the youngest of three sons of Kekuanaoa and the
high chiefess of the Kamehameha family. Kekuanaoa was one of nature’s
noblemen. He was not of the royal family, but he was of kingly bearing;
tall, well formed, and courteous in manners. He was Governor of Oahu
and Generalissimo of the royal troops. He was also a consistent member
of the mission church in Honolulu. For his splendid physique, his noble
bearing, and his mental and moral qualities, Kinau, who was daughter of
Kamehameha I. and sister of Kamehameha III., chose him for her husband.

Alexander Liholiho in stature and bearing somewhat resembled his
noble father. His reign was short but peaceful, and to some extent
prosperous. He visited Hilo occasionally, and our social intercourse
with him and his intelligent queen, Emma, was pleasant.

Up to this time all the kings were in the habit of inviting the
missionaries and their families to an annual reception at the palace
during the season of the general meeting in Honolulu.

[Sidenote: _Kamehameha IV. and V._]

Kamehameha IV. was a fair scholar in English literature, and he spoke
and wrote the English language with ease and correctness, having
enjoyed the advantages of an excellent training in the Royal School and
Boarding Seminary under the charge of Mr. and Mrs. Amos Cooke, of the
American Mission, and having also had the benefit of foreign travel
with his brother Lot, under the care of Dr. Judd.

He was succeeded by this older and only surviving brother, who came to
the throne as Kamehameha V.

Lot was a stern man, with an iron will, and a determination to rule
his kingdom himself. He at once refused to take oath under the
liberal constitution of 1852, that had been drawn up by our excellent
Chief-Justice, William L. Lee. He called a convention of delegates from
all the islands, and instructed them to frame a new constitution; and
while they lingered and debated, and declared that they had no power to
annul or amend the former constitution, because it had provided that
all changes and amendments should come from a regular legislative body,
he dissolved the convention on the 13th August, 1864, and declared that
_he_ would give them a constitution by his own royal authority. This he
did on the 12th August, and the people, though complaining, submitted,
as the high officers of the realm had bowed to his behest and took
oath under this, as pronounced by high authority, unconstitutional
constitution. The king was “master of the situation.”

This king, so far as I know, had no concern in matters of religion, and
did not attend any church. He spent his Sundays as he pleased, either
in business, in sleeping, fishing, or in other recreations.

He visited Hilo occasionally, but never, I think, to call out his
people and address them as a father on any subject affecting their
present or future interests. I have known him to come to Hilo with his
fishing-tackle, spend a season here, and then pass on to Puna, where it
was reported he had his nets drawn on Sunday, and, on his return, he
entered our town with his animals loaded with nets and other luggage,
and his train of attendants, during the time of service on the Lord’s
day.

At length he died, and was called before the high tribunal of the King
of kings. With him ended the famous dynasty of the Kamehamehas.

Our sixth king, Lunalilo, was the son of a high chiefess. His father
did not belong to the family of chiefs by blood; but descent by the
maternal line ennobles in Hawaii.

[Sidenote: _King Lunalilo._]

On the death of Kamehameha V., without nominating a successor, Lunalilo
sent out a proclamation over all the islands offering himself as the
rightful heir to the throne, and calling on all the legalized voters
to meet in their respective places and ballot for him. This was done
promptly; and on the first day of January, 1873, he was elected by
12,000 votes. On the eighth of that month his election was confirmed
by the Legislature then in session, and on the ninth he was proclaimed
king.

This popular election introduced a new feature into our government.

Lunalilo was a bright, cheerful, and favorite prince. He had the habit
of using liquors freely, but the people loved him for his wit when
under the influence of intoxicants, and for his kindness and good sense
when he was sober. He appointed good men for his cabinet ministers and
for his privy counselors. He was pleased with the upright, and always
took their side in argument.

He soon visited Hilo, where he was received with acclamation. He
appointed a meeting for all, and men, women, and children came in
crowds shouting with joy, “Ko makou alii keia,” “This is _our king_,”
alluding to the fact that the people had elected him, a privilege never
before awarded them. After a good speech to old and young, he shook
hands with all the hundreds present, stooping down to the little ones
and smiling upon them so kindly that he won all hearts. We conversed
with him freely, and he took no offense when urged to abstain from
all intoxicants. Had he resisted the evil counsels of boon companions
and his own appetites, he might still have been our king, to the joy
of all. But his reign was shorter than that of any who had gone before
him. He died on the 3d of February, 1874, having occupied the throne a
little less than thirteen months.

David Kalakaua, our seventh and present king, was born in Honolulu
on the 16th of November, 1836, and elected on the 12th of February,
1874. His parents were both chiefs of an ancient line. The family
often spent a good deal of time in Hilo, and the mother died here.
His queen, Kapiolani, was brought up in Hilo from childhood. Kalakaua
is intelligent, having excellent command of the English language, and
having also had the advantages of an unusually interesting tour around
the world. We believe that he desires to rule well and see his little
kingdom prosper and progress.

The reigns of our kings since Kamehameha I. have been short, and the
cause is apparent. Little did I think when we came to these islands
that I should live to see four kings buried and a fifth upon the
throne. How striking the admonition in the 146th Psalm: “Put not your
trust in princes, nor in the son of man in whom is no help. His breath
goeth forth, he returneth to his earth; in that very day his thoughts
perish.”

[Sidenote: _The Foreign Church in Hilo._]

I have said something in regard to evangelical labors for seamen and
for our English-speaking residents.

It was resolved at length to organize a church and seek a pastor for
this class of our inhabitants; and on the 9th of February, 1868, a
church was organized with fourteen foreign members. On the 26th of July
the building was dedicated, and on this occasion the Lord’s supper was
administered, and three candidates were admitted to fellowship. The
edifice will seat about one hundred and fifty. It is neat, and well
kept within and without. Standing near the larger native church, it
shines like a gem amidst our green foliage.

A call was sent to the Rev. Frank Thompson, who, having arrived with
his wife early in 1869, was installed on the 15th of May of that
year. Upon the resignation of Mr. Thompson, after a pastorate of a
little more than five years, the Rev. A. O. Forbes, son of the late
missionary, Cochran Forbes, was settled over this church, where he
labored faithfully until he resigned to accept the secretaryship of the
Hawaiian Evangelical Association.

The foreign church, though small and not wealthy, is active and
generous. They pay a salary of $1,200 or $1,400, furnishing a parsonage
to the pastor, and they give generous sums for missionary purposes and
for other Christian and philanthropic objects.

During the year 1863 the Rev. Dr. Anderson, then corresponding
secretary of the A. B. C. F. M., visited the Hawaiian Islands with a
view of conferring with the missionaries on the subject of putting most
of the churches under the care of native pastors. He urged the plan
earnestly, and a full discussion followed. Some of the missionaries
favored the new departure at once, others doubted its wisdom, and
others still were willing to see the plan commenced on a small scale,
and to watch its operations. Each pastor and church determined the time
and manner for themselves. And so the experiment began.

At length I began a movement in that direction, and on the 16th of
October, 1864, the first church was set off from the mother church, and
a native was ordained and installed over it. Not long after, on Oct.
14, 1866, I organized another church in the district of Hilo, and a
third in 1868; and pastors were ordained over them.

One was organized in Puna in 1868, and two more in 1869, so that there
were now six churches set off from the old one. All these were provided
with good and neat houses of worship under my direction, and with
church bells. Most of these churches had one, two, or three chapels, or
smaller meeting-houses, which served as places of meetings on secular
days, and on Sabbaths near evening. For a great many years the natives
were accustomed to hold morning prayer-meetings, and they might be
seen assembling at early dawn every day in the week.

[Sidenote: _Native Hawaiian Pastors._]

The original cost of these churches and chapels, with that of keeping
them in repair and furnishing them with bells, would amount to about
$10,000, and that of the central church and its chapels would be about
$20,000.

The number of church members dismissed to organize the six new churches
was in all 2,604.

They have had ten pastors. Of these, five are dead, two have been
called to other places, one has resigned on account of age and
infirmities, and two only remain at their posts. This would be nearly
the record of our Hawaiian pastors over the whole group. They waste
away rapidly by disease and death, and they change places often. Some
wear out; some fall into sin; and some engage in other callings. A
goodly number run well, being steadfast in the faith, diligent workers,
and patient withal.

We are often asked how our native preachers wear, and whether we were
not hasty in making them coordinate pastors with the missionaries.
These questions may be answered differently by different observers.
Some, perhaps many, of our number think it would have been better
to have waited longer before giving them the full power of ordained
pastors, that while they should have been trained to work with the
missionaries, as they had been, with the most happy results, they
should not have been so soon put upon a parity with them.

While subordinate, they are more docile and respectful; when on
a parity, they sometimes show a disposition to be assuming and
discourteous, an effect occasionally seen elsewhere in men on a sudden
elevation.

The native ministers now outnumber us more than five to one, and when
we meet in our evangelical associations they know, of course, their
numerical power, and it requires great wisdom on the part of the
foreign members to secure that influence which is necessary to good
order and to harmonious action. In our Association for Eastern Hawaii
we have never as yet had any difficulties of a serious kind, and yet we
are liable to them, especially when some self-conceited stranger comes
in as a disturbing element.

A Democratic or a Republican Government can never be strong, and pure,
and permanent unless the people who create it and hold the power are
intelligent and moral. And the same law holds true in church polity.
From our point of view we think that we see clearly how the Episcopal
and the Catholic church governments originated, as a matter of
necessity, in the midst of peoples who were ignorant, unstable, and not
to be trusted with responsible power. I do not find in the Bible, or in
the wisdom of all commentators and expositors of the sacred Scriptures,
any definite and fixed rules of church polity, but rather the elements
of many.

[Sidenote: _Our Churches Undenominational._]

Congregationalism is excellent where all or most of the members of a
church are intelligent and virtuous, or where men know how to govern
themselves and their children.

The Presbyterian government is strong, and when exercised wisely and in
meekness it is good.

Prelacy might seem necessary in certain states of society, and the
right of choice can hardly be disputed by wise, candid, and liberal
minds.

Our Hawaiian churches are not called Episcopal, Presbyterian, or
Congregational, or by any other name than that of the Great Head, the
Shepherd and Bishop of souls. We call them _Christian churches_.

XI.

_Compensations--Social Pleasures--Some of our Guests and Visitors._

From the almost entire absence of civilized society, we have now come
to enjoy the fellowship of a community of families and individuals
equal, on an average, in intelligence, morality, and refinement, to any
with which I am acquainted. In addition to the three mission families
who have been longest on the ground, there is around us a little
community of families of missionary descendants of the first and second
generations. The number of cultivated and scientific visitors from
other parts of the world is also increasing.

When in 1835 we were stationed at Hilo, a good brother missionary wept
and condoled with us because of our banishment from civilized society,
our communication with friends so slow and uncertain. But we believed
our destination was ordered of the Lord. The feeling of joy with which
we first hailed the sight of its beautiful harbor, its fields of living
green, its shining hills, has never left us. And while we have tilled
our garden, saying, Let its moral beauty outshine its physical, and
“its righteousness go forth as brightness, and its salvation as a lamp
that burneth,” we have found our life full of compensations.

[Sidenote: _Visits of Sailors._]

I do not now regret a sojourn in “that great and howling wilderness”
of Patagonia, or my perils on the sea and in the rivers; my painful
travels on foot over thousands of miles, or my hungerings and
thirstings in cold and heat, nor any suffering that the Lord has laid
upon me in His service. They all seem light and momentary now, and
there is full compensation in the joy the Master has granted me.

I have spoken of the visits of seamen to this port, and of the
religious efforts in their behalf. Their coming often added to our
social comforts. The very sight of the stars and stripes at their
masthead, the snowy canvas, or the weather-beaten and tempest-torn
sails, was pleasant. Many of the masters brought cultivated and pious
wives, and from time to time they, with their little children, would be
left with us for months while the ships were absent on their cruises in
the north, the south-east, and west. Not a few sailors’ boys and girls
have been born in Hilo, and several have been born in our house. We
have formed near and lasting friendships with many of these visitors.
We have nursed sick sailors under our roof, and sent them home healed,
so far as we could judge by their conduct and profession, in soul
and body. We have buried the remains of seamen in the soil of Hilo,
attended to their secular affairs, and written to parents and friends
by their request; we have found out the wandering sons of senators,
clergymen, and men of wealth and distinction, as well as of the poor
and lowly, and received the tearful thanks of parents, comrades, and
friends.

The dust of a wild young English physician lies in our cemetery. He
was the son of a clergyman, and his mother, sisters, and brothers were
all Christians, while he wandered, like the poor prodigal, into realms
unknown to his mourning friends. He was shy of the missionaries, but in
his wildness the hand of the Lord arrested him. He fell from a horse
and received a mortal injury. In his misery he sent for me; he knew
his wound was fatal, and he felt that he must be forever lost. When
I pointed him to the Lamb of God and spoke to him of the blood which
cleanseth from all sin, he exclaimed, “Can it be possible that is for
_me_--that I can be saved?” He came at last to trust, his despair fled,
and in three days he died in peace on the very day he had set for his
departure from earth. We buried him with tears, and thanksgiving to Him
who “giveth us the victory.” There was printed on the slab that marks
the repose of his mortal part this stanza from one of his own poets:

“By foreign hands thy dying eyes were closed,
By foreign hands thy clay-cold limbs composed,
By foreign hands thy humble grave’s adorned;
By strangers honored and by strangers mourned.”

[Sidenote: _Judge William L. Lee._]

A tender and grateful answer was received to the letter written to his
parents.

We had, at different times, not less than five professed physicians
who offered their services to our public. But one after another four
of them died, and the fifth left the country, and shortly after, he
also died. All these were intemperate, and some of them were bitter
haters of the missionaries and opposers of the work of the Lord. The
career of four of them was very short, and their deaths were sudden and
admonitory.

Our great volcano has attracted many hundreds of visitors, and they
have come from nearly all the nations under heaven. Many have been
distinguished scientists. Statesmen and foreign officials of almost
every rank have looked in upon us, and our intercourse has been most
precious with the many Christians that we have been permitted to
entertain.

Chief-Justice William L. Lee, chancellor of the kingdom, spent many
days with us. Coming from the United States in 1846, he was a leader
in our government until his death in 1857. His chief labors were the
drafting of the Constitution of 1852, the civil and penal codes,
and his arduous and gratuitous services as President of the Land
Commission, which abolished feudalism, and gave each native his land in
fee simple. A man of high ability, integrity, and of charming personal
character, his name can never be forgotten in Hawaii.

Prof. C. S. Lyman, of Yale College, was our guest for three months,
and his scientific tastes and acquirements, and his mechanical skill,
made his visit especially interesting. We used to say that with a
jack-knife, a file, and a gimlet he could make anything. An excellent
sun-dial, a complicated rain-gauge, with a clock attachment, a
self-opening and closing valve, and a scale that marked the day, the
hour, and the moment of rain-fall, with the exact amount of water, and
a bookcase of _koa_ wood for my study, were some of the proofs of his
skill. He made, also, one of the best surveys of Kilauea crater that I
have ever seen.

He once accompanied me along the shores and over the highlands of my
missionary field, sharing with me my simple fare and my rocky beds, and
cheering me with his delightfully genial companionship.

[Sidenote: _A Trip with Professor Lyman._]

How vividly I remember one incident in our tour! We were returning
from Puna over the highlands where, for fifteen miles, there were no
inhabitants. Our trail lay through forest and jungle and open fields
of wild grasses and rushes. We heard that about midway between the
shore and an inland village there was a small grass hut built by
bird-catchers, but now abandoned. We struck for that, and reached it a
little before sundown. We entered with our two native burden-bearers,
and congratulated ourselves on having found a shelter for the coming
cold and rainy night. In less time than I can write the story we began
to jump and stamp and dance. What is the matter? we exclaimed, and
looking down upon our legs we saw them sprinkled thick with fleas,
those terrible back-biters that never talk. We ordered a hasty march
and went on at double-quick through bush and brake, scattering our
actively bloodthirsty foes by the way. After a mile’s walk we skirted
a forest, and here, sheltered from the wind, we halted and began our
works of defence from the coming rain and cold. Without axe or saw we
broke off limbs of trees and made a little booth, which we covered with
grass and leaves, and then prepared wood for a fire.

Alas! we had no matches, no lamp, no candle. What next?--One of our
natives took his pole, which they call the _auamo_-yoke, on which they
carry burdens, and by hard and rapid friction with another dry stick he
soon raised smoke, and fire followed. At nine +P.M.+ it was a roaring
fire at which we dried ourselves, and when we had eaten our scanty
supper, and offered up thanks to the Lord, we lay down to sleep--or not
to sleep--as the case might be.

Long after this Mr. Wm. T. Brigham, of Boston, spent a season with us,
and went the same rounds with me. On this occasion we visited a pulu
station upon the highlands, and in a deep forest. Here were about
thirty or forty men and women employed in gathering this soft, silky
fern-down for upholstery, and here, ten miles from Kilauea, we saw the
natives cook their food over hot steam cracks without fuel. Near the
volcano this is frequently done.

The widowed Lady Franklin was our guest for a while. The patient,
hopeful, and earnest woman was then (1861) in search of her husband,
Sir John Franklin. It was sad to see her hopes blasted.

An honored officer of the British army in India once spent a week
with us. He came an entire stranger, but by his great intelligence,
his urbanity, his noble figure, and his gentlemanly address, he made
an indelible impression upon us. And this impression was deepened by
such a frank and affecting tale of his life as filled us with interest
in his behalf. His mind was in such a state that his appetite and his
sleep often departed from him. He occupied an upper room in our house
with a door opening upon a veranda, which afforded a good and quiet
promenade. Often during many hours of the night we could hear his
foot-falls as he paced to and fro through the still watches. He was
always with us at our morning and evening hours of devotion, and he
seemed to enter earnestly into these exercises.

[Sidenote: _A Heavy-Burdened Guest._]

At length he could no longer restrain his feelings, and begged that we
would hear his tale of sorrow. He began, saying: “I was once a happy
man, but now I am miserable. I had a very dear friend, a fellow officer
in the army, and I loved him as my own soul. On a certain occasion, and
through a misunderstanding, an altercation took place between us, and
he hastily gave me a challenge. I, under a false sense of honor, as
hastily accepted. We met, and my bullet pierced his heart. I saw him
stagger, and ran to hold him up. His warm blood spurted over me. He
said, faintly, ‘You have killed me.’ He gasped, and was dead. I laid
him down; the sight of his pale, ghastly face filled me with horror.
That image haunts me everywhere. It comes to me in my dreams. It stares
at me in my waking hours; it haunts me like a ghost; it follows me like
my shadow; and I am miserable. I have attended church, have read my
Bible through and through, to find something on which to hang a hope.
I have read sermons and systems of theology; I have wept and prayed,
but no comfort comes to me. In spite of all my prayers, and tears, and
struggles for pardon and peace, the ghost of my murdered friend haunts
me. It wakes me at midnight, it confronts me by day, and what can I do?
Is there any hope for such a blood-stained sinner as I am?”

His plaintive story struck us dumb for a while; our hearts were melted
with sympathy; but presently we blessed the gracious Lord for this
opportunity. We saw his difficulty, that he was filled with “the
sorrow of the world which worketh death.” He had labored in agony to
_save himself_, and the cloud of despair grew thicker and darker over
him. I at once pointed him to “The Lamb of God who taketh away the sins
of the world.” “Yes,” said he, “but can Jesus forgive _my_ sin? It
seems too great to be forgiven.” I assured him that “the blood of Jesus
Christ cleanses from _all sin_,” and that Isaiah had told us long ago,
that if we would but listen to our God, “though our sins be as scarlet
they should be white as snow, and though red as crimson they should be
as wool.” And that Jesus “will in no wise cast out” one penitent sinner
that comes to Him. It was his duty, and it was an infinite privilege
to believe and accept pardon and peace as a free gift of God, while it
was an insult to God to doubt His call and His promises; this “treading
underfoot the blood of the Son of God” would be a greater and a more
fatal sin than to have shed the blood of his friend. He accepted the
offer of salvation, and rejoiced in hope. He found, to his joy, that
there is “a blood which speaketh better things than the blood of Abel,”
or the blood of his murdered companion.

After he left us he remained some time in Honolulu, and we there met
him again on our annual visit, just before he embarked to return to
India.

[Sidenote: _Admirals DuPont and Pearson._]

We have heard from him several times since, and learned that he had
been promoted in the army and in civil life, and that he was happy.
He was, I think, six feet four inches tall, weighing some 225 pounds,
well formed, a man of great physical power, of superior strength of
intellect, and excellent executive ability. With a heart and conscience
of tender sensibilities, he was “bold as a lion” in all he felt to be
right, but he quailed before what he believed to be wrong.

We have not only enjoyed the privilege of entertaining men of rank, but
also men of low estate, for poor and friendless strangers came to our
distant shores as well as the rich and the noble, and we feel it to
be no less, and often a greater, privilege to care for the neglected
and needy than for the honorable. The lessons of Christ are plain,
practical, and personal. “_I was hungry_ and ye gave me meat,” “When
thou makest a feast--call the poor,” “Remember the stranger” and “Be
careful to remember the poor.” And we have sometimes entertained angels
unawares.

I should like to speak of many more of those whose acquaintance we have
made, and who have been our guests in our Hilo home; as Admiral S. F.
DuPont, the gallant officer, the accomplished gentleman and the sincere
Christian, whose dearly-cherished friendship we enjoyed until the day
of his death; or of Admiral Pearson, who with his wife and daughter
spent a season in our family. On our visit to the United States in
1870 both Mrs. DuPont and Mrs. Pearson spared no pains to see us in
their homes.

But time would fail me to speak of the visits of the venerable Dr.
Anderson and his wife, of Boston; the gifted Dr. Boyd and his estimable
wife, of Geneva, with whom we held sweet converse; the “Friends”
Wheeler, of London; Joel and Hannah Bean, of Iowa; President Moore,
of Earlham College, through whom we have been brought into Christian
fellowship with many of his denomination; of Dr. Thompson, of Detroit,
who in his advanced years came to look upon this distant missionary
field, and was almost enamored with the beauties of Hilo; of the Rev.
Mr. Hallock, who with glowing heart went back to tell his people of
what he had seen in these isles of the sea; and of many others whose
visits of Christian love and fellowship were cheering and refreshing in
this far-off land.

If these brief seasons of communion on earth are so sweet, what will
the reunion of kindred spirits be in the eternal world where love
forever reigns?

Of one other guest I would speak somewhat more fully, for from our
humble abode she went up to the palace of the King in heaven. In the
midst of earnest missionary work with her husband, the Rev. J. D.
Paris, located on the southern shores of Hawaii, she was stricken down
with consumption. They came to our house and were our guests until
she died; and here on the borders of the unseen world, while she
still lingered, she spoke words of such triumphant faith that I would
transcribe them anew.

[Sidenote: _Mrs. J. D. Paris._]

When told that no one thought it probable that she would recover,
she was silent for several minutes; then calling her husband to her
bedside, she said: “Do not be anxious about me; I commit all to the
Lord, to live or to die. I have had a strong desire to be spared for
your sake and that of our little ones. I have hoped that I might live
to see the image of Christ impressed upon their hearts. They will
need a mother’s care, a mother’s watchfulness; but let His will, not
mine, be done. He has always been good to me, infinitely better than I
deserve. Let us leave all with Him; His time is best.”

To the question how she felt in regard to her spiritual state, she
replied: “I have no distressing fears. I know that I love the Saviour
and that He loves me. I sometimes shrink from the thought of death and
the cold grave; but when I look beyond all is calm, all is peace.”

Hearing one speak of “the dark valley and shadow of death,” she asked,
“What does that mean? I do not understand it. I look upon death very
differently. Jesus will come and take the soul to Himself. It will
be released from its house of clay and wafted to immortal glory. The
valley does not look dark to me now, perhaps it may; but I think it
will not be dark to me anywhere if my Saviour is with me, and He will
never, no, never leave me.”

One night when her end was near, she urged her husband to seek rest. He
objected, as her hands were cold and her pulse feeble and irregular,
and he feared she would swoon away and awake no more.

“You ought not to say so,” she replied. “It would be a blessed end
to swoon away into the arms of my Saviour and awake in His image. Do
not be afraid. If Jesus should take me away from your side without a
struggle or a groan, would you grieve?”

On another occasion, when Mr. Paris read

“On Jordan’s stormy banks I stand,”

and spoke of Bunyan’s river of death, remarking that she now stood
on the verge of this river, she replied: “I do not like that view of
death. Our blessed Saviour has told us that He will come again for His
own and receive them to Himself. I love to believe His words and to
commit myself to Him. If He takes me to Himself death is swallowed up
in victory. What are all the dark valleys and rivers if Jesus is with
us?”

I said, “Do you see your way clear?”

“Yes,” she answered promptly, “it is all clear; there is no cloud, no
darkness; all is light up to the heavenly hills.”

[Sidenote: _A Peaceful End._]

Morning was breaking upon the mountains of Hawaii, while a morning of
unending brightness was dawning on her soul. Her mortal powers gently
gave way; “the silver cord was loosed,” and she quietly left us in our
tears for the bosom of her Saviour.

XII.

_Seedling Missions--Hawaii sends out Missionaries--Need of a
Missionary Packet--The Three “Morning Stars.”_

In the prosecution of our work on the Hawaiian Islands, an active
missionary spirit was developed in great strength. This was of course
one of the legitimate fruits of a faithfully preached and truly
accepted Gospel.

We sent a mission to the Marquesas Islands, which for years we
conducted under great disadvantages. We had no packet to communicate
with that group, but were obliged to charter small and uncomfortable
vessels, at high prices, to carry out our missionaries with their
supplies and to send out our annual delegates to look after and
encourage them.

Then as our funds and men increased we thought that the Marquesan field
was too small for our energies, and the idea sprang up in the minds of
some of our brethren that we might “lengthen our cords” by exploring
among the numerous islands to the west, and establishing a mission in
Micronesia in conjunction with the American Board.

[Sidenote: _The “Morning Star” No. 1._]

This thought ripened into action, and American and Hawaiian
missionaries were sent out. Still we had no vessel at command and were
obliged to look to others to supply this want. Hence arose the thought
of securing the needed packet.

I proposed that we should request the Board to call on the children
of the United States to contribute in shares of ten cents for such a
vessel, and that her name be _The Day Star_. This was agreed to, and
the mission appointed me to write to the Board at Boston on the subject.

The proposal met with favor, with only one amendment, viz., that the
name should be _The Morning Star_. The call on the children to take
shares in this enterprise was popular, and it spread over many States.
The needed sum was raised, and the _Morning Star_ (No. 1) was built,
manned, and provided. In due time she sailed from Boston with the
prayers and benedictions of a multitude and with the old song,

“Waft, waft, ye winds, his story,
And you, ye waters, roll.”

On the 24th of April, 1857, having braved the billows of the Atlantic,
swept round the stormy Cape Horn, and sped half way over the Pacific,
the beautiful schooner reached Honolulu. Thence she sailed for the
Marquesas Islands with supplies; and on her return, early in July, she
appeared off the entrance of Hilo harbor, dressed in all her white
sails with her flag fluttering in the breeze and with her star shining
in the center.

Hilo was jubilant. We had heard of her sailing, had counted on her
time, and had been watching for her arrival. Arrangements had been made
to give her a hearty welcome. Parents and children came hasting in from
all quarters, winding over the hills and along their footpaths and
filling our streets.

Captain Moore came on shore with his officers and passengers, and was
met by the well-dressed and decorated children in double file, bearing
a flag prepared for the occasion. With songs of welcome they were
waited upon to the great church, which was soon filled to its entire
capacity. Prayers were offered, hymns and an original ode to the _Star_
were sung, addresses made, and all went off with a hearty good-will.
We were happy on this occasion to welcome the Rev. Hiram Bingham, Jr.,
with his young wife, bound to Micronesia, and little knowing what
sufferings awaited them in those dark and distant islands.

Afterward the natives were invited on board the vessel, and as our
children had given freely for the vessel, they inspected her with
many expressions of admiration and delight, feeling their importance
as joint owners of the beautiful packet. The people, old and young,
brought liberal gifts of fruits and vegetables, fishes and fowls.

[Sidenote: _The “Morning Star” No. 2._]

The _Star_ remained two days and then sailed for Honolulu with the good
wishes of all Hilo.

This packet, after years of service in the Pacific, was sold for a
merchant vessel, fitted out and left the islands for China, but has
never been heard from since her departure.

The _Morning Star No. 2_ was built by the funds received from the sale
of the old one, supplemented by further gifts from the children. She
was a larger, better built, and more convenient boat than the first and
did good service. But her end came all too soon. After a successful
cruise among the islands of Micronesia, and on leaving the little islet
of Kusaie, or Strong’s Island, when all seemed propitious, she drifted
upon the rocks and was broken in pieces. All on board escaped to the
land to wait an opportunity to return to their homes.

This event seemed sad, and some of us have not ceased to think that
we need, and ought to have, steam as an auxiliary motor to help our
packet in calms, in adverse currents, and when in danger on entering
and leaving dangerous harbors. All the important secular interests of
the world employ steam and other discoveries and improvements in all
the departments of science, art, and industry. We harness the lightning
to our cars; our thoughts flash under deep oceans, over towering
mountains, and through mid-air. The business of this world challenges
all the forces of nature to its aid, and why should the Gospel move
so slowly? Why should the angel that flies through the midst of heaven
with the Gospel message move with clipped wings? The artillery of war
moves on swift wheels to shake the nations and pour out human blood,
while the old sails flap, and the lazy boom squeaks mournfully in the
doldrums, as our vessels are driven hither and thither by the squalls
and storms of capes that obstruct their way to the lost tribes of men.
If the Lord will, I hope to hear the whistle of a missionary steamer in
our waters before I go hence.

Two Stars have set in the West, and here comes the _Morning Star No.
3_, fairer and brighter than those which have disappeared, well built,
larger and better than the other two.

The insurance money on No. 2, with another lift from the children, had
soon brought her keel into the waters, raised her well-shaped spars,
set up her standing, and arrayed her running rigging, clothed her with
a white cloud of canvas, and run up her beautiful flag to wave in the
breezes of heaven. Well furnished, with a well-appointed crew, with an
excellent captain and good officers, she is now (1880) on her tenth
voyage to Micronesia, taking out supplies to the laborers in that
widening field, and a reinforcement, long waited for, for the Gilbert
Islands.

XIII.

_The Marquesas Islands--Early English and French Missions--The
Hawaiians Send a Mission to Them--My Visit in 1860--The Marquesan
Tabu System._

The Marquesas Archipelago consists of thirteen islands, only six of
which are inhabited, viz: Nuuhiva, Uahuna, Uapou, Hivaoa, Tahuata, and
Fatuiva. Seven are small islets or rocky piles of little importance.

The group is divided into two chains, trending N. W. and S. E., between
the latitudes 7° 50′ and 10° 30′ south, and longitude 138° 30′ and 140°
50′ west.

The windward group was discovered in 1595 by Mendaña de Neyra, the
commander of a Spanish squadron bound from Peru to colonize the Solomon
Islands during the reign of Philip II. of Spain, and was named Las
Marquesas de Mendoza in honor of the Viceroy of Peru.

The leeward islands, though but a short distance off, were not
discovered until 1791, nearly 200 years later, when they were seen
by Capt. Ingraham, of Boston, and named Washington Islands. But the
term Marquesas now embraces both groups, as it properly should, the
inhabitants being one in language, manners, and race.

The origin of the group, like that of the Hawaiian, is distinctly
igneous. All the islands give evidence of having been raised up from
the depths of the ocean by volcanic fires. The surface is mountainous
and exceedingly broken. The coasts rise from the water like walls.
Deep gorges, lofty promontories, bold bluffs, serrated ridges,
perpendicular buttresses, sea-walls plunging thousands of feet into
the sea, turrets, towers, cones pointed and truncated, rocky minarets,
needles, spires, with confused masses of rocks, scoria, tufa, and other
volcanic products, testify to the terrific rage of Plutonic agencies in
unknown ages past. Many of the ridges are so precipitous and lofty that
they can not be crossed by man. And many of the rocky ribs come down
laterally from the lofty spine, or dividing ridge, on an angle of 30°,
and form submarine and subaerial buttresses, leaving no passage except
in canoes. The lowest of these inhabited islands reaches a height of
2,430 feet above the level of the sea, and the highest, of 4,130. Most
of them have fertile valleys half a mile to three miles deep, and from
one-tenth of a mile to a mile wide, with rills of pure water falling
from the high inland cliffs, and rippling along rocky and shaded beds
to the ocean.

[Sidenote: _The Marquesans._]

The valleys are also filled with luxuriant shrubs, vines, and
magnificent trees.

The inhabitants are of the Polynesian race, and their language was
originally the same as that of the Hawaiian and Society Islands, Cook’s
Islands, New Zealand, and other islands of the Polynesian archipelagoes.

They are more bold, independent, fierce, and bloodthirsty than most
of their neighbors, and they have always been cannibals of the most
savage kind. The men are large, well-formed, and powerful, and many of
the women do not lack in physical beauty. They dress very little, and
mostly in bark tapa, like the ancient Hawaiians. They live in small
thatched houses, and feed on cocoanuts, breadfruits, and fish.

They were once numerous, but the introduction of foreigners and foreign
diseases have wasted them so that they have been reduced more than
two-thirds.

In 1797 the English ship _Duff_ took Messrs. Crook and Harris to the
Marquesas as missionaries. The natives were fierce-looking and savage,
and Mr. Harris preferred to return in the same vessel to Tahiti. Mr.
Crook remained alone at the island of Tahuata about six months. He then
went to Nuuhiva, where he lived six months more, and then returned in
a whale-ship to England, hoping to come back to the Marquesas with
a reinforcement of missionaries. Eventually, however, he joined the
mission at Tahiti.

In 1821 two natives of the Society Islands were sent as missionaries
to the Marquesas, but fearing the savages, they soon returned. In 1825
Mr. Crook revisited the Islands, leaving two Society Island Christians
at Tahuata. These also soon returned, and were succeeded by others who
remained but a short time.

In 1831 Mr. Darling, an English missionary of Tahiti, visited the group
and left native teachers at Fatuiva and Tahuata. These, like their
predecessors, had no success and returned.

At length the Hawaiian mission took up the subject of evangelizing the
cannibals of Marquesas. The first step was to send a delegation thither
to examine the situation; and, in 1833, Messrs. Armstrong, Alexander,
and Parker, with their wives, went to Taiohae, Nuuhiva, to labor for
the good of the savages. But their situation was so uncomfortable, and
the circumstances of the ladies and children so distressing, not to say
dangerous, that they all returned after eight months to the Hawaiian
Islands, which were even then a paradise compared with the Marquesas.

In 1834 Mr. Stallworthy and Mr. and Mrs. Rodgerson, of the London
Missionary Society, arrived from England, and in company with Mr.
Darling, of Tahiti, commenced labors at Tahuata. After one year Mr.
Darling left, and in 1837 Mr. and Mrs. Rodgerson sailed for Tahiti, Mr.
Stallworthy remaining alone until August, 1839, when he was joined
by the Rev. R. Thompson. But these two did not continue long, and the
London Missionary Society, after repeated and earnest efforts for the
occupation of the field, abandoned it without success.

[Sidenote: _Early Missions to the Marquesans._]

The history of these efforts to tame the Marquesan cannibals is
remarkable and the failure sad. For more than forty years company after
company of devoted men and heroic women toiled and prayed for that
stubborn race, and gave up in despair. And the history of these tribes
is unique among the Polynesian family.

And now come the efforts of the Roman Catholics among the Marquesans.
In August, 1838, Du Petit Thouars, commander of the French frigate
_Venus_, brought two priests and one layman to Tahuata, and in 1839
these were followed by six priests and one layman.

In May, 1842, Admiral Thouars took forcible possession of the Islands,
and the priests have occupied them at several stations ever since.

In 1853 the Hawaiian Board of Missions sent out its first band of
missionaries to those shores, and these have been reinforced from time
to time, and have been visited and encouraged by delegates of our Board.

Our first station was at Omoa, on the island of Fatuiva, the south-east
island of the group. Afterward stations were taken on all the
inhabited islands except Nuuhiva, where our American missionaries
labored in 1833. As a delegate, I have been permitted to visit this
Mission twice, and have seen every island and every station of the
group.

My first visit was in 1860. We sailed from Hilo, March 17, in the
_Morning Star No. 1_, under command of Captain J. Brown, and anchored
in Vaitahu, or Resolution Bay, Tahuata, April 11. This bay forms a
quiet and safe harbor on the leeward side of the island. It is half a
mile wide and half a mile deep, walled on the right and left by lofty
and rugged precipices some 2,000 feet high, with a beach of lava, sand,
and shingle. From the shore a narrow and rough valley, one-eighth of
a mile wide and one mile long, extends inland until it ends in a bold
precipice some 2,500 feet high, rising on an angle of 45° to 50°. The
island, like the rest of the group, is a great heap of scoria, tufa,
cinders, and basaltic lavas, bristling with jagged points, traversed
with sharp and angular ridges, and rent with deep and awful chasms. The
valley is fertile, and well filled with the breadfruit, cocoa-palm,
pandanus, hibiscus, and other trees and shrubbery. The orange, lemon,
lime, vi, and guava have been introduced.

[Sidenote: _My First Visit to the Marquesans._]

The number of inhabitants upon Tahuata at the time of my visit was only
154, though it had once been several hundreds. We had one Hawaiian
missionary with his wife in this valley, and they were laboring
patiently in a small school, but with little encouragement. The people
seemed hardened against Christianity, and no wonder, for in 1842 the
French took possession of this bay, after having crushed the natives.
They fortified the little rookery at great expense, and only to abandon
it after seeing their mistake. They built a strong fortress upon a
high bluff commanding the settlement and harbor, and mounted cannon
on a high precipice on the right ridge of the valley to enfilade the
village. They also built a house for a governor, a chapel, an armory,
a bakery, etc.; but when I was there, all was a scene of dilapidation
and ruin. The garrison and most of the guns were removed; a priest only
remained.

But small and unimportant as this island is, the French did not conquer
it without loss of blood and treasure. On one attack, Captain Edouard
Michel Halley, commander of a French corvette, was killed, with six
of his marines, by the natives. All landed in martial order, formed a
line, as reported to me, on the beach, and with drums beating, flags
waving, fifes piping, and with bugle blast the line moved forward up
the valley in full confidence of subduing the dark savages at a single
blow. But as they advanced among the trees and jungle, on the right
and on the left, from this bush and that, from behind tree and rock,
and from overlooking cliffs came the shots of an ambushed enemy. The
deadly missives whizzed and struck. Six of the marines were killed,
and also the captain. When the men saw their commander fall, they were
struck with consternation and retreated to the ship.

The remains of the fallen sailors were carried up near the head of the
valley and buried. With the Hawaiian missionary and Captain Brown, I
visited the cemetery. It is an area of about one-quarter of an acre,
surrounded by a plastered wall, and full of bushes. Beside the tomb
of the captain lie the remains of the marines, covered with slabs of
basalt. We found the slabs tilted and sinking into the earth, and the
surrounding walls falling. Dilapidation is setting its seal upon all
these graves, and after sad reflections on the fate of the gallant
heroes, we “left them alone in their glory.”

Why should the professed disciples of the “Prince of Peace” endeavor to
propagate the Christian religion by the use of fire and sword? And why
do men who call themselves “priests of the Most High God” call in the
aid of weapons, and go and come and live under the cover of cannon? Did
the Captain of our salvation teach His disciples such doctrines?

[Sidenote: _The Hivaoa Mission._]

From Vaitahu we went to Hivaoa or La Dominica. The missionary at this
station was the Rev. Samuel Kauwealoha, a native of Hilo, and a member
of the Hilo church. He came out in his boat, boarding us five or six
miles from the shore, and gave us a most hearty welcome. We landed
on a beautiful beach of white sand, and walked half a mile through
a charming grove of tropical trees, along the margin of a crystal
brook. This runs through the whole length of the valley, which is one
mile in length and one-fourth of a mile wide, enclosed on three sides
with lofty and steep hills, and opening to the sea in front. It is a
paradise of natural loveliness, charmed forever with the music of its
rippling stream.

We found Mr. Kauwealoha living in a substantial stone house, 25 by 44
feet, with walls ten feet high, a cellar, floor, glazed windows, and
thatched roof, and all built by himself. He dived for the coral, burnt
it into lime, hewed the blocks of basalt, made the mortar, and did all
the work of the carpenter and mason. Here, amidst the shade of lofty
trees, he was living with his devoted wife, teaching the children to
read and write, and preaching “Christ our Life” to 149 savages; and
here, under the shadow of a towering tree, I spent one of the happiest
Sabbaths of my life. The almost naked and tattooed savages came out
and sat quietly in semicircles under the tree, with the bright-eyed
little children in front, all seeming to love their teacher, and to
welcome the stranger, to whom they listened, Kauwealoha interpreting.
When service was over, they came forward with outstretched hands and
glistening eyes and gave me their _Kaoha_, the same as the Hawaiian
_Aloha_, “love and greeting.”

One service was held at sunrise in the house; the next service under
the tree, at 10 +A.M.+, when sixty were present. We had also a
Sunday-school, where the pupils recited the Lord’s prayer and the ten
commandments, with some other lessons, in tones and inflections of
voice which were soft and melodious.

At 11 +A.M.+ Captain Brown and his mate, Captain Golett, a good
Christian man, who had commanded many a ship, came on shore with the
crew of the _Morning Star_, and we had service in English. At 4 +P.M.+
another service was held with the natives, making four for the day,
beside much time spent in conversation with those of the islanders who
lingered around and seemed tame and docile.

The wilder savages would come up now and then to the outer side of our
circle, half concealed among the trees, gaze at us with their keen
black eyes, talk and laugh among themselves, strike fire and smoke
their pipes, and then retreat a little into the bushes and lie down to
sleep. Some were armed with muskets and spears, or bayonets fastened
to poles. The men were naked, except the maro. The women wore a light
drapery made from the paper-mulberry.

[Sidenote: _Savage Fighting._]

Wars had raged in this valley, but after the arrival of the missionary,
there had been quiet for a longer time than usual. It had been nearly
a universal fact that the inhabitants of no two valleys had lived in
harmony. Every valley had its chief who was constantly watching the
people of the valleys on either side of him. These were separated only
by narrow and high ridges, upon the jagged crest of which enemies would
lie in ambush in the night. As soon as the morning dawned they watched
the huts below and fired upon the first one who came out of doors.

Even in this little Eden-like valley there were two hostile clans,
one at the head of it and the other near the shore. These watched
each other, as the tiger of the jungle watches his prey, and when
opportunity offered they killed and ate one another. It was hoped that
the presence of our missionary would prevent all further hostilities.
Our hopes were vain. Before my second visit to the Marquesas, a
fiendish quarrel arose among the cannibals; Kauwealoha’s fine house was
plundered and torn down, and he with his heroic wife fled the valley
never to return. Thus the savages extinguished the rays of light which
had begun to dawn upon them.

On Monday, April 16th, we took our energetic friend, Kauwealoha, on
board the _Star_, as my companion, guide, and interpreter, and sailed
for the island of Fatuiva. At Omoa, its largest and most populous
valley, was the resident missionary, J. W. Kaivi. It was at this
station that our pioneer missionaries were first landed, and here
they labored together for a long time before they separated to occupy
other islands. The fruits of these concentrated labors are seen in the
greater tameness of the people, especially of the children.

On landing, I found myself surrounded with merry and bright-eyed boys
and girls, all shouting in glee, “Kaoha, kaoha, ka mikiona”--Love,
love, to the missionary. Many struggled to get hold of my hands to
lead me to the house, and to please as many as possible, I offered a
finger to one and another. Thus I was led by ten laughing children,
while others caught hold of my arms, and elbows, and of the skirts of
my coat, shouting _kaoha_, until we entered the house of Kaivi. Surely,
thought I, here is material for a Christian civilization, and with wise
and faithful training, these boys and girls may become kind and good
men and women, and never kill and eat one another. I have not seen
brighter or sweeter looking children than these on the Hawaiian Islands.

Not the children only, but many of the adults rallied around and filled
the house, while scores remained outside for want of room within.
My heart was touched by the scene, it was so different from that on
Vaitahu, when powder and iron hail had driven the people of the valley
to madness.

[Sidenote: _Omoa Valley._]

The valley of Omoa is three miles deep and, in some places, one mile
wide, with five lateral branches half a mile or more deep, and like
Hanatetuua, it is walled with towering precipices on both sides and in
the rear, filled with magnificent trees, breadfruit, cocoanut, palm,
candlenut, hibiscus, pandanus, banana, South Sea Island chestnut,
orange, and others. The soil is of great richness. A fine stream
of water, which runs the whole length of the valley, furnishes an
excellent place for watering ships.

The day after our arrival, Kaivi, Kauwealoha, Timothy, one of my Hilo
church members who accompanied me, and myself, took a stroll of four
hours up the valley, and we were more and more delighted with its
beauty and fertility. But we were everywhere pained with the marks
of savage idolatry and cannibalism. The number and nature of the
tabus were shocking. We saw tabu houses, tabu trees, tabu hogs, tabu
tombs, tabu places for offering human sacrifices, and tabu theaters or
places for lascivious dances, where with midnight drums and infernal
howlings the most obscene orgies were performed. These theaters are
oblong spaces of 100 or 200 feet in length, and fifty feet in breadth,
cleared, leveled, and sometimes paved with slabs of basalt, and
enclosed with a wall four to eight feet high and as many wide. On this
broad parapet, or wall, the men are crowded to witness the lascivious
dances in the space below, while the masses of women are kept outside
of the enclosure.

Kauwealoha told me that he had sometimes stolen visits to these places
of lust and blood and human sacrifices, and found them strewed with
human bones, the remains of men who had been slaughtered, roasted, and
eaten in part, and in part offered to the gods. These and scores of
other tabus have their histories of cruelty and horror which I can not
here find time and space to explain. But what was uttered by a prophet
of old is still true: “The dark places of the earth are full of the
habitations of cruelty.”

At an examination of the school of Omoa which we attended, forty
boys and girls were present, and were examined in reading, writing,
geography, arithmetic, and Scripture recitations. Some of the pupils
read and wrote well, and many gave evidence of bright and active minds.
I spoke to parents and children on the salvation through Christ and
on the value of education. In the evening the little church of six
members, together with the missionary Kaivi and his wife, and three
from the _Morning Star_, partook of the Lord’s supper. Here were some
of the first-fruits of the Gospel among the Marquesans. There sat the
tall and dignified Natua, now baptized Abraham, with his quiet wife
Rebecca. Abraham was a chief and a man of influence, and we hoped he
might be the leader of many faithful disciples. The other members were
Eve, a very aged woman, Joseph, Solomon and his wife Elizabeth.

[Sidenote: _The Cannibals of Omoa._]

All these had eaten human flesh, and drank the blood of their enemies.
They were now sitting at the feet of Jesus, and in their right minds,
eating and drinking the emblems of that body which was broken, and that
blood which was shed for man. It was a precious season, and one which
may be remembered with joy during eternal ages.

But notwithstanding the success which has attended the Gospel and
the school at Omoa, the large heathen party are still bloodthirsty
cannibals, and always at war with the people in Hanavave, a valley five
miles distant. The watchful belligerents kill and cook one another,
whenever they can do it secretly. Only a short time before our visit
a robber came within ten yards of the missionary’s house to kill a
woman who was alone in her hut. Kaivi and his wife heard the rustle
of the dry fallen leaves and went out softly under cover of shrubs
and descried the assassin, and began to throw stones, when he ran,
and the woman was taken into Kaivi’s house for protection. On another
dark night a blind woman was sleeping alone, her husband having gone
on board of a vessel, when a cannibal with a long knife entered the
house to dispatch her; but before the bloody deed was done, a large dog
seized the monster, and in the struggle the neighbors were aroused, and
the invader fled up a steep precipice and escaped to his own place on
the other side of the ridge.

A spy also came to Omoa professing great love for the people and hatred
for those of his own valley. So insinuating was he, that the Omoans
were deceived, and adopted him as a friend. He became a favorite with
parents and children, and after some days he invited two boys to go
with him upon the ridge dividing them from Hanavave, where they would
find ripe berries. The boys went cheerfully, and when they had ascended
high and were out of sight of the people below, he drew a large knife,
seized one of the lads, and severed his head from his body. The other
boy fled for his life down the hill and gave the alarm, but the
assassin went on and down to his valley with the bloody trophy in his
hand.

We visited the hostile Hanavave in two of the ship’s boats, as the
distance is only five miles, and the sea smooth. The natives of Omoa
were afraid to go with us, lest they should be killed, but our Hawaiian
missionaries are safe and free to travel where they please, so Kaivi
went with us.

The sail along the lofty sea-wall was delightful, and the white foaming
streamlets rushing down deep and precipitous gorges, or leaping from a
height of 1,500 feet, presented a scene of exquisite beauty.

[Sidenote: _Hanavave Valley._]

Our missionaries in this valley are the Rev. Lot Kuaihelani and his
wife. We examined a school of twelve boys and girls under the care of
Mrs. K., who taught them to read, write, and sing. Then after a season
of prayer and exhortation with the people who came together, we took a
stroll through the valley. It was a scene of charming loveliness, but
most of the people looked wild and savage.

Bare-legged soldiers were strutting about with old muskets, rusty
swords, and bayonets fastened on poles, and all seemed to feel as
important as imperial guards. Near the center of the valley we found
a military captain with a squad of soldiers engaged on a zigzag
fortification of stone six feet high, four feet thick, and nearly half
a mile long, pierced with loopholes for muskets. I asked the stern man
in command, why they fortified with so much labor and zeal. He replied,
“To protect my people.” “But suppose you make peace with your enemies
and live quietly?” “I can’t; they come in the night, and lie in their
canoes behind the rocks, and when we rise in the morning they fire at
us, and their bullets whiz and strike our trees and houses, and kill
our men and women.” “Yes, and you try to kill them.” “That’s right; we
good, they bad. You go talk with our enemies in Omoa.” “I have been
there and told them to love their enemies and stop fighting, and they
say yes if you will stop.” He replied, “They are _bloody liars_; they
will come to kill us, and I must defend my people.” And then lifting up
his foot, he showed me a scar where a bullet had gone through his leg.
Another came and turned his naked body to me, asking me to look at his
shoulder-blade which had been pierced by a bullet, and then feel the
ball lodged just within the skin of his breast. I examined and found it
so. I said to him, “Let me cut that bullet out, it can easily be done.”
“No, no,” said he, “I will always carry that bullet in my breast. It
makes me strong to fight!”

Only three weeks before our arrival, there was a sea-fight between
three double canoes of Hanavave valley and three whale-boats of Omoa.
One man of the canoe party was shot through the body, and the canoes
made a hasty retreat.

We returned to the _Star_, and the next day sailed for Puamau, on the
northern side of Hivaoa. This is the station of Rev. James Kekela and
his good wife Naomi.

Puamau is a large valley, with 500 inhabitants. With Kekela and
Kauwealoha, I went all over it to its head, two miles inland, where it
terminates in an abrupt precipice 2,000 feet high. We passed over hill
and vale, and through forest and open spaces, and saw the houses and
large numbers of people and many bright-eyed children.

[Sidenote: _Stone Images at Puamau._]

We visited the tabu houses and grounds, and in a forest of lofty
trees we saw their great _Heiau_, or place of feasting, dancing,
and of offering human sacrifices. Walled terraces were built up of
large stones, and with great labor, and a paved floor was prepared
for dancers, who with naked, oiled bodies, adorned with feathers and
fantastic ornaments, keep up the most obscene orgies all night till
daybreak.

On these terraces stood several stone images of enormous size, in the
form of men and women. Some had fallen, some were mutilated, but one
stood perfect in gigantic proportions. This figure was nine feet high
and three feet six inches in diameter, with head, eyes, mouth, neck,
breast, trunk, and upper and lower limbs. The base of the stone was
planted deep in the ground. It was made in ancient times, and brought
half a mile from the quarry to this place. Probably it would weigh ten
tons. The natives have been offered one hundred dollars to remove it to
a ship, but the present generation know of no mechanical power to do it.

It was to this place of infernal rites that Mr. Whalon, first officer
of the American whale-ship _Congress_, was brought in 1864, bound hand
and foot for slaughter, and to be devoured by savages.

A Peruvian vessel had stolen men from Hivaoa, and the people were
waiting for an opportunity to revenge the deed. Mr. Whalon went on
shore to trade for pigs, fowls, etc., and the natives, under the
pretence of hunting pigs, decoyed him into the woods, where, at a
concerted signal, large numbers of men had been collected. Mr. Whalon
was seized, bound, stripped of his clothing, and taken to this _heiau_
to be cooked and eaten. This was in the afternoon. The savages then
began to torment him, bending his thumbs and fingers backward, pulling
his nose and ears, and brandishing their hatchets and knives close
to his head. Kekela, our missionary, was then absent, but a German,
hearing of the affair, went to the place and begged the savages to
release their victim. This, with ferocious grins, they refused to do,
saying that they relished human flesh, and they were now to feast on a
white man. On the return of Kekela the following morning, he hastened
to the scene of action, and begged for the life of the poor man.
But the savages were inexorable, unless for a ransom. They demanded
Kekela’s boat and all his oars. It is said that a chief of another
clan objected to the boat being taken from him, as they were often
accommodated with it on going on board ships.

Finally an exchange was effected among the contending cannibals, and
for a gun and various other articles Mr. Whalon was released. The
missionary took him to his house, and with his intelligent wife showed
him the greatest kindness and attention.

The ship, on account of this tragic event, had gone out to sea, keeping
at a safe distance from land until the mate was brought on board with
great rejoicing.

[Sidenote: _A Fighting Congregation._]

Mr. Lincoln was then President of the United States. Hearing of this
deed of Mr. Kekela and his helpers, he sent out the value of five
hundred dollars, with a letter of congratulation, as a reward for the
prompt and successful action which saved an American citizen from death
at the hands of Marquesan cannibals.

Kekela had only twenty-six pupils in all, and those were very irregular
in their attendance. We spent a Sabbath at Puamau, and I preached
to fifty people inside of the house, while numbers were standing or
walking outside, some looking in at the windows, some pacing to and
fro, talking, laughing, or lying down, getting up, lighting pipes
and smoking. Old warriors, fantastically decorated with feathers and
sharks’ teeth, and carrying axes, hatchets, spears, old muskets and
rusty swords, and whalers’ harpoons, scouted around us among the trees,
with their sharp, black eyes glaring upon us, and anon disappearing in
the thicket.

In the afternoon I preached to an assembly of one hundred, who sat
quietly before me under a large tree. Boys meanwhile were climbing
trees around us, swinging upon the branches and chattering like
monkeys, and noisy children were gamboling upon the ground. Guns were
often fired during the day; the ring of the tapa-beater was heard
from the huts; fishing canoes were scattered over the bay, and the
multitudes went on with their work or sport as on other days. There
was no Sunday.

Near Kekela’s house there is a Catholic station; but it was painful to
hear that the priests do little to create respect for the Lord’s day in
the minds of the people.

Several individuals appeared interested in religious instructions, and
we believe that faith and love and patient labor will not be lost upon
this benighted people. But they are a hard race, bold, independent, and
defiant. The longer I remained, the more deeply I was impressed with
the depravity into which they are sunk. In theft, in licentiousness, in
guile, they are unrivaled; in revenge they are implacable. They know no
mercy, and their selfishness is unmixed.

Their government, so far as they have any, is feudal. Every valley has
its chief; some have twenty or thirty chiefs; and feuds, robberies,
wars, and bloodshed are the normal condition of the people. Scarcely a
clan can live in peace with its neighbors. There are no laws to forbid
or to punish crime. Every man must be his own protector and avenger. If
his wife is ravished, his house burned, his property stolen, he has no
appeal but to his own arm, his own weapon, and the red vengeance which
boils in his heart. If he is a weak man, he keeps a close mouth, lest a
lance or a bullet pierce his heart. His only redress is to watch his
opportunity and do as he has been done by.

[Sidenote: _Marquesan Fashions._]

Among the men, tattooing, which is a long and painful process, is
nearly universal. Their faces and bodies are so nearly covered with
grotesque figures that they appear almost as black as Africans.

The shaving of their heads is equally grotesque and fantastic. Some
shave only the crown, or one side; some leave a small tuft of hair on
the apex only; others shave a zone quite around the center of the head,
and others still shave several such belts.

Were it not for these artificial disfigurations, the Marquesan physique
would be fine. The males are tall and well formed, and dwarfishness and
obesity are very uncommon with them. But at Puamau we saw one monstrous
exception, a man with a full-sized head and body, with legs only one
foot four inches long, and arms but one foot long. The limbs were of
ordinary thickness.

In the valley of Hanahi, Mr. James Bicknell, son of one of the English
missionaries of the Society Islands, was stationed by his own request.
Capt. Brown hearing that there was no safe harbor here, sent Mr.
Bicknell’s supplies in a boat, in which I took passage. This is a
new station, with a population of only ninety souls, but there is a
populous valley on each side of it. There was no school here, but Mr.
Bicknell has one convert, whom he has baptized. The valley is small,
rocky, not well watered, and less inviting than the others that I
visited.

In 1859 a little boy was roasted alive in Hanahi as a sacrifice to the
gods, and I was shown the place where this horrid deed was done.

The romantic little valley of Hanatita, on the north side of Hivaoa, is
occupied by the Rev. A. Kaukau and wife, Hawaiian missionaries.

All the missionaries of the three islands met in this place to hold
a convention. There were eight in all, with most of their wives and
several delegates, representing 3,000 Marquesans and reporting 34
church members, 221 pupils, 76 readers, 40 writers, 67 in the outlines
of geography, and 104 in arithmetic. The chief woman of Kauwealoha’s
station labored over the lofty ridges on foot with her 24 girls to
attend this convention and examination. As all canoes and boats are
rigidly taboo to the women, they have no other way to leave their
valley except to climb the rugged steeps, or swim around the cliffs and
headlands, resting now and then by clinging to some jutting crag or
rock along the sea-walls.

These twenty-four bright-eyed girls were neatly robed in a profusion
of thin white tapa, worn loosely and tied in a large knot on the
shoulder. Their hair was gathered into a crown on the top of the head,
and confined by bands and nets of tapa so thin and delicate as to
resemble gauze. Many of them wore delicate ear and wrist ornaments
made by the natives. This picture looked like the dawn of civilization,
and was in delightful contrast with most of the scenes I had witnessed
in the group. After the examination of Kaukau’s school of nine girls,
we went on with the business of the convention, spending five days
in deliberations and discussions on a great variety of practical
questions, interspersed with frequent prayers. The meetings grew in
interest from day to day, and the parting scene was touching. Every
member of the convention offered prayer, and there was not a dry eye in
the company.

[Sidenote: _A Hard Climb._]

Learning that a landing could be effected at Heteani, on the south
side of the island, where Paul Kapohaku, “Paul the Rock,” had been
stationed, our captain agreed to return the missionaries to Fatuhiva,
and then sail round the eastern end of Hivaoa, and lie off and on
opposite Heteani, while I with Mr. Bicknell, Kapohaku, and his wife,
should climb the heights of the mountain, some 3,500 feet, to visit
that lone station where he would send in his boat to receive me on
board.

Early the next morning, May 1st, taking one of the ridges which led to
the summit of the mountain, we commenced our toilsome ascent, sometimes
on an angle of 10°, and at other places of 30° to 40°. Our path led up
steep and sharp ridges, down which on either hand we looked into depths
of 500 or 1,000 feet below. I measured the breadth of the spur or rib
on which we ascended; it was two feet and four inches wide in one part
of the way; in another it was only one foot in width, with awful gorges
on either side. Mr. Darwin, describing a similar climb which he took in
the island of Tahiti, says: “I did not cease to wonder at these ravines
and precipices; when viewing the country from one of the knife-edged
ridges, the point of support was so small that the effect was nearly
the same as it must be from a balloon.” The extraordinary sharpness of
these ridges and abruptness of these mountain slopes may be accounted
for by the absence of violent storms in these groups, and more
especially by the fact that there is never any frost to disintegrate
these sharp ridges and fine-drawn peaks.

After two hours of exhausting toil and heat we stood on the dividing
ridge of the island. The summit was a level plateau about half a mile
broad, and covered in most part with a dense jungle of ferns, hibiscus
and other trees and shrubs. Here we were shown the fighting grounds of
the clans from the north, where they met those of the southern valleys,
and engaged in deadly conflict with spears, clubs, and stones. Many of
the abraded stones brought up from the shore were still seen scattered
over the battle-field.

[Sidenote: _Descent to Heteani._]

The scene from this height was grand in the extreme. At our feet lay
the broad Pacific, shining like molten silver, and from this elevation
showing no ripple. Around us was a vast panorama of cones, ridges,
spurs, and valleys. Hills heaped on hills, and spires bristling among
spires, the whole appeared as if a sea of molten rocks, while raging,
tossing, and spouting in angry billows, had been suddenly solidified by
an omnipotent power. It was a wild assemblage of hills and ridges, of
gulfs and chasms, of towers and precipices.

Our descent on the south side of the island occupied three and a half
hours, and was even more difficult than the ascent, on account of the
roughness of the trail. Over many steep declivities we had to let
ourselves down over the rocks with the utmost caution; one false step
would have plunged us into certain destruction. But we arrived at the
shore safe and weary at 4 +P.M.+

We found the people of Heteani cordial, and our labors there were as at
other places. Nowhere did we meet a more enthusiastic “_kaoha!_” But in
all the valleys on this side of the island cannibalism is fearful. Paul
showed me the place where he had witnessed the cooking and eating of
human flesh by the heathen party, and he had no power to prevent it. He
also told me shuddering stories of the fightings, the murders, and the
fearful cannibalism which prevailed all around him.

On the morning of the 3d of May, the good _Morning Star_ came into the
offing, and the boat landed and took me on board.

Sailing down the smooth channel, three miles wide, which separates
Hivaoa from Tahuata, we looked into all the valleys as we opened them,
until we rounded the bluffs of Tahuata. On the 4th we were off the
mouth of the spacious harbor Taiohai, the principal harbor of Nuuhiva.
This bay is about two miles deep, half a mile wide at the entrance,
between two grand headlands, and expanding to a mile in breadth as
we came to the center. Its shore is a beautiful crescent of sand,
interrupted here and there with shingle and boulders.

The French, on seizing this island, fortified the harbor at great
expense, and for many years kept up a strong garrison on the land
with ships in the harbor. They built a large arsenal, a house for a
governor, a cathedral for a bishop. We looked into the fort, and upon
the shore battery cut into the rock, called on the bishop and the
governor, saw all the public buildings, and rambled over the town.
We also found the house where our missionary brethren, Armstrong,
Alexander, and Parker, with their families, sojourned for eight months
in 1833. But we found no war-vessels and no garrison except half a
dozen gensd’armes. The shore battery was dismantled, the fort and other
public works in a state of dilapidation, and the folly of making
war on savages as a means of civilizing and Christianizing them was
apparent.

[Sidenote: _Taiohai--The Tabu._]

We also visited the grounds where the gallant Captain Porter of the
United States ship _Essex_ pitched his tents in 1813, indulging his
crew in those pleasures which were but the prelude to the day of
slaughter which soon fell upon them in Valparaiso. The steep and lofty
precipice was also shown us up which his marines were made to drag
his cannon to thunder terror and death upon the poor Marquesans in an
adjoining valley.

The tabu system, in the Marquesas Islands as in other parts of
Polynesia, is ancient, complex, and deeply rooted in the social and
religious polity of the people. A few notes upon it may interest the
student of the subject. The following are forms of the tabu:

_Toua_, war.--When the men go to war it is tabu for the women to go out
of doors to bathe, to attend to their toilet, or to eat more than is
necessary to sustain life. The god of this tabu is _Fu_.

_Fae Pue_, house of prayer.--This house is built and dedicated to
the god _Hiniti_ by a feast, at which swine’s flesh and other food
are offered to the god. No woman can ever enter this house, and no
man except those who are invited to the dedication feast. After the
dedication the _fae pue_ is closed, signals are placed upon it, and it
is never again entered. I saw many of these houses.

_Tehe_, circumcision.--This must be done in a new or sacred house,
dedicated to the god _Nukukoko_.

_Wauupoo_, shaving the head.--This must be done in the sacred house,
and no one must ever step on a lock of the hair.

_Utatapu_, the _hula_ or dance.--The actresses undergo long previous
training, during which time their persons are sacred to the gods.

_Tahu_, tattooing.--During this long and painful process the subject
is shut up in a house with the operator, and may not be seen by his
friends until he is healed. This often requires months.

Boring the Ears.--The subject and the operator are closely confined in
a sacred house, where offerings of food, fish, hogs, etc., are made to
the gods.

Tabu Food.--_Poi_ pounded by a man is strictly _tabu_ to women; not
so _vice versa_. Bananas, cocoanuts, squid, skipjack, and many other
articles, must not be eaten by men and women together, though each may
eat cocoanuts from separate trees. Food planted, cooked, or pounded by
a child may not be eaten by the mother.

Tabu Places.--Houses standing on posts, and all raised structures, as
platforms and seats around _hula_ or other public places, and stone
structures for the pounding of _poi_, are _tabu_ to women.

[Sidenote: _Marquesan Tabus._]

All roads and paths made by men are _tabu_ to women.

Places of human sacrifice are _tabu_ to all but priests. We could not
get consent to visit one.

Charnel houses are _tabu_ to all but friends.

Miscellaneous _tabus_.--Mats may never be carried or handled by men,
though they sleep on them.

When a man is in the cabin or hold of a vessel, it is _tabu_ for a
woman to be on deck. So of all other superposition. On board the
_Morning Star_ we had some droll scenes resulting from this _tabu_.

The heads of all males are _tabu_. One day I ignorantly laid my hand
on the head of a man who sat on the ground beside me. He instantly
started, shook his head, brushed off my hand, looked wild, and ran
off as if his hair had been lighted with a lucifer match. I saw him
no more. Seeing us laugh with incredulity at their faces, another man
crawled up to my feet, took my hand and laid it on his head. Most of
the Marquesans observe this tabu, though some are brave enough to
despise it.

Canoes are strictly _tabu_ to women. They never sail in them, nor dare
they touch them. This is a cruel tabu. If a woman wishes to visit a
ship, she must swim to it. If she have wares to sell, as pigs, bananas,
fowls, etc., she must swim them off to the vessel. All the women that
came on board the _Morning Star_ swam from the shore. If she wishes
to visit friends on another island, she can never do it; if to go
to another valley, she must climb rugged mountains and struggle over
ridges where her life is in danger; or if the way by land be quite
impassable, as is often the case, she must swim around bluffs and along
the rugged shores until she reaches some point or crag where she can
hold on and rest; pursuing her way, endangered by sharks and by the
surf, until she makes her port, or perishes in the attempt.

It will be seen from the above, that the subjection and servitude of
women are a principal feature of the tabu.

Returning on board the _Star_, we bore away around the western side
of Nuuhiva, looking into all the valleys and dells as they opened one
after another to our view. Among others, we passed the famed valley of
Taipi (Typee), the scene of Herman Melville’s narrative drawn from the
life. Bearing away for Hawaii, we dropped anchor in Hilo on the 16th of
May, having been absent just two months.

On this visit to the Marquesas I gathered, from the reports of the
missionaries at their general convention, the following statistics:

The whole number of pupils, more or less, under their instruction, 221
Whole number of readers, 76
Whole number of writers, 40
Whole number in rudiments of geography, 68
Whole number in mental arithmetic, 125
Whole number of church members, 34
Whole number of the population to whom they had access, 2,800

[Sidenote: _Some Results._]

These results, though on a small scale, seemed encouraging, compared
with the long, repeated, and unfruitful efforts which had been made
before, and there seemed hope that, by patience and perseverance, many
of these savages might be tamed, and the diabolical and bloody rites
which had been practiced from time immemorial be utterly abolished.

The laws enacted and enforced by the French governors in the Marquesas
have checked murders and cannibalism wherever they could be brought
to bear upon the guilty. And some of the governors have been liberal
in their sentiments, and willing that the savages should be tamed and
Christianized by any who would undertake the self-denying task.

XIV.

_Second Visit to the Marquesas--The Paumotu Archipelago--Arrival
at Uapou--An Escape by Two Fathoms--Nuuhiva--Hivaoa--Kekela’s
Trials--Savage Seducers--A Wild Audience._

On the 3d of April, 1867, I embarked again, on board the _Morning Star
No. 2_, to revisit our Marquesan mission. The _Star_ was commanded
by the Rev. Hiram Bingham, Jr., who had brought her out from Boston,
and who was still her captain. My associate delegate was Rev. B. W.
Parker, and we had for fellow-passengers Mrs. Bingham and Mr. Parker’s
daughter, and a daughter of our missionary Kekela.

We also had on board the body of Joseph Tiietai, one of the first
converts of Omoa, who had died at Honolulu while on a visit there.

[Sidenote: _Second Voyage to the Marquesas._]

In 1865 Mr. Bicknell left the Marquesas and returned to Oahu, bringing
with him seventeen Marquesans, male and female, in order to train
them on the Hawaiian Islands, and then return them to teach their
people. Of these seventeen, nine died within two years, and the eight
who survived were anxious to return to their old homes. We therefore
took them on board. They were all baptized before they left Oahu, Mr.
Bicknell recommending them as converts to Christianity. On our eighth
day from Hilo, Meto, the wife of one of the returning Marquesans, died
after a sickness of several weeks, professing her faith in Jesus. At
four +P.M.+ the corpse, having been prepared for burial, the _Morning
Star_, as she was rushing along at the rate of nine knots an hour, was
hove to, and lay quietly on the bosom of the deep, as if conscious of
the power, and listening to the voice of Him who “rules the raging
of the sea.” All hands were assembled in the cabin, and appropriate
services were held, when the remains of the poor woman were committed
to the deep, to be seen no more until “the sea shall give up her dead.”

It was a solemn scene, and the first of the kind I had ever witnessed.
All the attendant circumstances of committing a fellow-being to a lone
grave in the deep and dark waters of a vast ocean combined to impress
us with the worth of man. The winds, the waves, the inanimate ship, and
all surrounding objects, seemed to pause, and, with rational beings, to
bow in silent reverence before Him whose high behest remands our bodies
to the grave and calls our spirits before His bar.

Sleep, Meto, in thy cold and silent tomb, and let the waves of
mid-ocean roll over thee! They shall not disturb thy quiet slumbers
until the voice of the archangel calls thee from thy long repose. Thou
wast once blind, and a savage, but “the day-spring from on high” dawned
upon thee ere thou wast called away, and we have hope for thee that
thou wilt appear a shining angel among the joyous throng who have been
redeemed from among all nations and kindreds and peoples and tongues.

On the 21st of April we made the Paumotu Archipelago, a group of about
one hundred atolls, or coral reefs, enclosing lagoons. This group lies
between the Marquesas and the Society Islands. Their name, Paumotu,
signifies “all islands.” Those that we sighted were Taroa and Taputa,
in lat. 14° 22′ south, and lon. 144° 58′ west. We sailed within two
miles of the shore, and saw the beautiful islets resting like swans
upon the smooth water, while the rippling wavelets lapped the white
beach, and the palm and emerald shrubbery adorned the coral ring.

Different islands of this archipelago were discovered by different
navigators and at various times: by Quinos, in 1606; Maire and
Schouter, in 1616; Roggewein, in 1722; Byron, in 1765; Wallis and
Carteret, in 1767; Cook, in 1769, 1773, and 1774; Bougainville,
in 1763; Boenecheo, in 1772 and 1774; Edwards, in 1791; Bligh, in
1792; Wilson, in 1797; Turnbull, in 1803. Later and more careful
observations have been made on this beautiful group by Kotzebue, in
1816; Bellingshausen, in 1819; Duperry, in 1823; Beechey, in 1826;
Fitzroy, in 1835; and Wilkes, in 1841. Wilkes estimated the population
at 10,000. The people were represented as in a semi-savage state. The
islands are all of coral formation, and were built up by that silent
and wonder-working architect, the so-called coral insect.

[Sidenote: _Arrival at Uapou._]

Our view of these islands, garlanded with green, and shining under
a tropical sky, was enchanting, but the moral picture was dark. Why
are these thousands of immortal beings left to perish in ignorance,
poverty, and paganism?

The _Star_ went about and stood off from the shore, and in a short time
these beautiful gems of the Pacific, with their white beaches, their
silvery lagoons, and their emerald chaplets sunk below the horizon and
disappeared, and we bade adieu to the charming sight with a sigh.

Our first anchorage at the Marquesas Islands was on the 28th of April,
in the bay of Hakahekau, island of Uapou. The Rev. Samuel Kauwealoha,
whom we left in 1860 in his beautiful valley and nice stone house at
Hivaoa, and who, as before reported, was driven out by savage war, had
come with his wife and a few Marquesan friends to this island, which
had not been occupied before by our missionaries.

Before we had anchored he came on board the _Star_, and in an ecstasy
of delight, welcomed us to his simple home. He piloted our vessel
into the harbor, where she was anchored. We sat down to dinner after
prayers and thanksgiving, supposing that all was well. On rising and
going on deck, Capt. Bingham perceived that the _Star_ had dragged her
anchor. The current was strong, and the wind was blowing in squalls
from one side of the bay to the other. Every strong gust caused the
anchor to drag, and we were going slowly but surely toward a jagged and
rock-bound shore. All hands were called, a kedge was carried out from
the bows and planted in the bay, to check the drag; but anchor, kedge,
and schooner were all moving at every gust toward the shore, on which
the vessel must, if not arrested, be smashed like a cockle-shell.

[Sidenote: _A Narrow Escape._]

A line was coiled into the boat, with one end fastened to the capstan,
and with this the men in the boat struggled for an hour or more against
the wind and current, before they could reach the opposite shore. At
last they gained it when the stern of the vessel was only about two
fathoms from the frowning rocks, on which the surf dashed high and
fearfully. They made the line fast to the rocks on shore, and men at
the capstan began to turn, slowly and carefully at first, fearing
that the line would part, which would have resulted in sure and swift
destruction to our beautiful _Morning Star_. But she began to move
slowly to the windward, and our hearts beat with hope and joy at every
foot gained. At length she was moored by a hawser to the rocks on
the windward shore of the harbor and our agony was over. It was near
night, and the natives on shore had waited in vain to welcome us, and
to attend divine service, it being Sunday; several, however, came
off in their light canoes to help us. The tact and great strength of
Kauwealoha, and the help of his boat and crew, were of great service to
us; indeed without this help our escape might have been impossible.

At evening, we went on shore and held service in the missionary’s
house. On the next day we explored and admired the beautiful valley of
Hakahekau. It is three miles long and one-fourth of a mile wide, with
a limpid brook babbling through its whole length. The whole valley is
crowded with magnificent trees, evergreen vines, and shrubbery.

The mountains, hills, ridges, spurs, domes, and lofty cones of this
island are very grand. Within a vast amphitheatre of rugged hills which
send down their spurs to the shore, buttressed by lofty precipices, are
eight remarkable columns, two hundred to three hundred feet high, and
fifty to one hundred feet in diameter, rising in solitary grandeur,
and standing against the sky. They give the island the appearance of a
castellated fortress, and are landmarks which may be seen far at sea,
marking the bay. The fantastic mountain forms in the Marquesas Islands
are amazing.

The population in 1853 was supposed to be 1,000 but ten years later
the small-pox carried off most of the people, so that only 300
remain, and this luxuriant valley is nearly depopulated. Not a house
remains in the upper part, and only five or six are clustered along
the shore. Thousands of ripe cocoa-nuts and breadfruits fall to the
ground and rot, for want of hands to gather and mouths to eat them.
Solitude and silence reign in the old heiaus, and on the grounds where
midnight fires once burned, where human sacrifices were offered, where
the lascivious dance and the wild orgies of heathen souls made the
groves resound, where the shouts of the warrior were heard, where the
_hulahula_ drum beat during the livelong night, and where dark savage
forms move like ghosts amidst the spectral gloom. Those baleful fires
are extinguished, and the voice of revelry is hushed in death. But,
alas! darkness still broods over the few who remain on this island. We
will, however, hope and pray for brighter days.

Leaving Uapou, we crossed the channel twenty-two miles and anchored in
Taiohai, Nuuhiva. We had heard that the French government in Tahiti
was displeased because Mr. Bicknell had taken a number of Marquesans
to Oahu, without first asking leave. Our mission at this time was to
explain to the governor that the Marquesans had been taken to Honolulu
only to be instructed, and the explanation satisfied his excellency.

[Sidenote: _Taipi (Typee) Valley._]

On the 30th of April we sailed from Uapou to Nuuhiva, twenty-two miles
due north. At Taiohai, or Port Anna Maria, the principal harbor of the
island, we took a French pilot, Mr. Bruno, who brought us to anchor at
5 +P.M.+ Taiohai is a noble bay and safe harbor, some two miles deep
and one mile wide, but narrower at the entrance. The views in this bay
are enchanting. The peaks of the island rise to the height of 3,860
feet. Almost every pinnacle is carpeted with grass and mosses, or
festooned with vines; even on the perpendicular walls of the precipices
a tapestry of shrubs and verdure hangs. This is the harbor where Capt.
Porter, of the _Essex_, reveled in 1813. From this bay, in 1842, the
gifted Herman Melville, with his friend Toby, absconded to the hills,
and made his devious and toilsome way to the Taipi valley, from which,
in spite of its paradise-like beauty and its bewitching enchantments,
he was but too glad to escape. I saw the valley he threaded, the
cane-brake through which he struggled, the ridge he bestrode, the
jungle where he concealed himself, and the towering summit over which
he passed. Melville lost his reckoning of distances as well as his
track. The enchanted valley of Taipi, Melville’s “Typee,” is only
four hours’ climb by the trail from Taiohai; and from ancient times
there has been a well-known trail from the head of one valley to the
other. This of course the young fugitive did not find. The distance is
not over five miles, and the Marquesans walk it, or rather climb it,
in three or four hours. The valley of Hapa, (Mr. Melville’s Happar)
lies between Taipi and Taiohae, and is only two or three hours’ walk
from the latter. These three valleys are all on the south side of the
island, and adjoin each other. During all his four months of romantic
captivity, the gifted author of “Typee” and “Omoo” was only four or
five miles distant from the harbor whence he had fled.

We called on the bishop, who received us politely, and entered into
free conversation with us, and with two English gentlemen, residents,
we visited the French nunnery. The Lady Superior received us with
great urbanity, and introduced us to the two Sisters. The Superior
was a large woman, of fair complexion and dignified bearing. All
of the ladies were ideals of scrupulous neatness in their attire.
Their institution was inclosed with a high wall of basalt, in which
two buildings of thatch, some sixty feet each, were erected, with
school-rooms, dormitories, kitchen, and chapel. The grounds were
ample and well kept, and there was an air of neatness about the whole
establishment. The number of girls was reported to us as sixty, ranging
in ages from four to fifteen years. They are taught to read and write,
to sew and embroider, and to gather breadfruits, cocoanuts, etc., and
to cook their own food. The expenses of this institution are borne by
the French Government, and the annual estimate is $120 for each girl.

[Sidenote: _The Island of Uahuna._]

The island of Uahuna is thirty miles east of Nuuhiva. Here, on the
3d of May, our missionaries, Laioha and his wife, welcomed us to
their thatched cottage, and the people were called together by the
sound of the horn. Donning their light tapas, they came streaming in
from all the jungle trails of the valley, bringing their children
for examination. Boys, girls, and adults gathered around us with
beaming faces, grasping our hands and saluting us with their melodious
“Kaoha.” Thirty-two pupils were examined, after which we held religious
services, and celebrated the Lord’s supper as was our habit at the
various stations. We then returned to the _Star_, taking with us
Laioha, and José, a Peruvian whom I had baptized at Puamau in 1860,
when he took the name of David.

The history of this David José after his baptism was interesting.
Desiring to labor for Christ, he went of his own accord in 1863
to Hooumi, a valley adjoining Taipi, on Nuuhiva, where he labored
earnestly and without pay to convert the people to Christ, working with
his own hands to supply his bodily wants. He collected thirty pupils,
who were greatly attached to him, and for whom he had high hopes.

Soon the small-pox struck the people with the blast of death.
Consternation seized the multitude, and leaving friends and relatives
to their fate, many fled to the mountains or wherever else they might
hope for shelter. And faithful David had forty cases under his care
with no one to help him. Of these, twenty died, and he buried them all
with his own hands. He labored on until 1866, when the French sold the
valleys of Hooumi, Taipi, and Hapa, adjoining one another, to a company
who ordered David to leave.

Again we crossed the channel to the valley of Hanamenu, on the island
of Hivaoa. Here we landed the six surviving Marquesans, brought from
Honolulu, who belonged to this place. On landing, there was a rush to
the shore and a great wailing. Fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters
wailed fearfully for their kindred who had died on Oahu. Soon, however,
were heard the thuds of the falling breadfruits, and the squealing of
pigs, and a great feast was prepared in a short time.

Mr. Bicknell had made Hanamenu one of his stations, and had labored
earnestly with the people. Kekela also, and Kauwealoha had visited this
beautiful valley, and many of the people seemed tamed. A Marquesan
catechist was stationed here, and taking the old hopeful converts, and
those just returned from Oahu, we were requested to organize a church
at this station. This was done, and Kekela was chosen pastor for this
church of ten members, seven men and three women.

[Sidenote: _A Discouraged Missionary._]

On our way from Taiohai to Puamau we had heard of savage war in this
valley, and had been warned to approach it carefully. Kauwealoha and
others advised us not to land until Kekela came on board to report,
as the only safe landing-place had been in the hands of savages
hostile to the friends of Kekela. So we kept off and on, outside. At
length two boats came out of the harbor; one steering westward soon
disappeared, and Kekela came alongside in the other, informing us that
the westward-bound boat was the last of a large fleet of war canoes
returning to their own valleys. Kekela leaped on board with tears, and
was surprised to find his daughter, who came passenger with us, weeping
on his neck.

He told us that the war had just ended, that the last fighting had been
three days before, that the people who for months had been hidden in
caves and in fastnesses, were now crawling out, and that the cannibal
chief who had been so eager to eat Mr. Whalon was shot dead on the
previous Sunday. So the door was opened to us, and just in time for our
entrance.

Kekela seemed discouraged. The war had demoralized his people. He had
no church, his school was broken up, his congregation dispersed, his
pigs and potatoes were stolen, his mules and donkey killed and eaten,
and one of his out-houses burned; bullets had struck his house, and
several nocturnal attempts had been made to burn his large stone
dwelling, and this had been saved only by vigilant night-watching.
After doing what we could to calm and encourage the peace party, we
took Kekela and wife with four children and sailed for Atuona, a
station on the south side of Hivaoa, and occupied by Mr. Hopuku and
wife.

We examined a school, organized a church of five members, found an
interesting people and good working missionary and his wife, and left
the valley, impressed with the great romantic beauty of its natural
scenery and its luxuriant growth of tropic trees, and with a hope in
its moral advancement. We sailed the same evening for Omoa, Fatuiva,
where we were to carry the remains of Joseph Tiietai, one of their
chiefs and an early convert to Christianity. Here again we had been
warned to approach the bay with caution, because it had been reported
that the people were greatly exasperated at the death of this chief,
and of a number of others of the valley, in Oahu. The _Star_ was kept
out at a good distance from land to watch the movements on shore, for
it was said that armed boats and canoes would come out to take her.
Soon, however, Kaivi’s boat was alongside, bringing good old Abraham, a
brother of Joseph, and several others. By them we were assured that it
was safe to land, as they had succeeded in quieting and reassuring the
people, who had been very angry and threatening.

[Sidenote: _Visit to Omoa._]

The remains of the chief were taken on shore and received by his
friends with loud wailings. All the night after the funeral exercises
were held, the most fearful wailings were kept up, especially by his
sister. Men and women tore their hair, and cut themselves with sharp
bamboos till they were smeared with blood.

The next day, May 12, being Sunday, we sat up until midnight to
converse with the people who came in, to examine candidates for the
church, and Mr. Hapuku for ordination. On the morrow the ordination
took place; seventeen candidates were baptized and received to the
church on profession of faith, and one by letter. Ten had been received
before, making the whole number gathered into this church twenty-eight.
Of these four had died. The Lord’s supper was then administered to
about forty communicants, representing seven nationalities.

The decrepit Eve Hipahipa of fourscore years was brought in in the
arms of friends. She clasped our hands in both of hers, and with tears
and a fervent _kaoha_ laid them on the top of her head as if to ask a
benediction.

At the general meeting held in this place, where the _Star_ remained
five days, it was resolved that Mr. Kekela endeavor at once to
establish a boarding-school for boys, and Mr. Kauwealoha one for girls,
at their respective stations. The Omoa school was examined. It had
gained since our former visit fifteen pupils and sixteen readers.

On Friday, May 17th, there was a rush and roar of the savages, and we
were startled by loud shouts coming down the valley. On looking out I
saw a large company of tattooed savages carrying a canoe to the sea.
It was covered with a broad platform of bamboo, on which was erected
a small round house covered with mats. In the canoe were a live pig,
a dog, and a cock, and breadfruit, cocoanuts, _poi_, etc. The canoe
was ornamented with trappings, and rigged with a mast, a sprit, and a
sail of _kapa_. Naked swimmers, with much noisy demonstration, launched
this singularly equipped craft, and pushed it out, through a roaring
surf, into the open sea. There the swimmers left it, and returned to
the shore. The canoe, left to the tide, drifted slowly out of the bay.
But the wind not being favorable, it struck on the northern headland
of the harbor, advancing upon the rocks and then receding; borne, like
a ram, by the rush and the retreat of the surf. Seeing the danger it
was in, a native ran to the point and shoved off the struggling craft,
when, the wind filling its sail, it headed out seaward, moved off, and
disappeared.

I had a long talk with Teiiheitofe, a high chief, about the ceremonial
of this canoe. He said that it was a last offering to their god,
Kauakamikihei, on the death of the prophetess or sorceress, and that
this sacrifice propitiated the god, expiated their sins, and closed the
_koina_, or tabu, which had then lasted six weeks. During this _koina_
“all servile work and vain recreations are by law forbidden.”

[Sidenote: _Sad and Fruitless Errand._]

While the _Star_ was at Omoa, I revisited Hanavave on a sad and
fruitless errand. The wife of one of our missionaries had been enticed
by two young savages, brothers, and she was living with them among the
trees up the valley. Although warned of danger, as these seducers were
desperate, I was determined to seek for her, and beg her to go with me
to the _Star_ and to her husband and children. I found her forlorn and
desiring to return; but she said she feared her seducers, as they would
surely kill her before they would let her go. While we talked, the
young savages came in, armed with sheath-knives, and took seats so as
to look her full in the face, keeping their keen eyes fixed on her. She
dared not speak again. Through an interpreter I labored with them, but
they were relentless, and their prey was fast. I left them with a heavy
heart, wishing that some power might release her from their grasp. Poor
woman! she died in misery not long after.

It is sad to relate that the wife of Kaivi of Tahuata came to a similar
end.

The _Star_ returned to the stations of Hapuku and Kekela to land these
brethren, and at Puamau, it being Sabbath morning, Mr. Parker and I
went on shore to attend service, while the _Star_ remained outside. We
were happily surprised to find more than a hundred collected under some
large trees to hear the Gospel. It was a wild group. Just from the war,
many of the men were still armed with their formidable weapons. Before
service, Kekela’s house was jammed full of men, women, and children,
filling every room with their grotesque figures and the odors of their
pipes. They were like the frogs of Egypt; no place was sacred.

We had much talk with groups and individuals. One old warrior,
Meakaiahu, heavily tattooed, held quite an earnest debate with me. When
I spoke to him on the beauty of peace, and said that we should love
our enemies, he answered, “No, no; we should hate our enemies and kill
them.” When I urged the example and teachings of Christ, he shook his
head, and said, “What if I love my enemy and he _shoot me_?”

I urged and illustrated the reciprocal law of love, and how it begets
love. He seemed to feel the truth, and began to yield. He said, “I have
killed five men; I have a bullet in my body, but I will listen to you
and fight no more.”

[Sidenote: _A Marquesan Disputant._]

He then requested me to talk with his chief and persuade him to give up
fighting. He took my hand, pressed it hard, looked up into my face from
under a great leaf which screened his eyes, and said with emphasis,
“_Kaoha oe_,” “love to thee.” Holding on to my hand, he led me through
a crowd of steaming natives to his chief, a tall, old man named Moahau,
introduced me to him, and watched our conversation with eager interest.
The old chief was friendly, but witty and skeptical. When urged to
abandon his former habits and become a Christian, he replied: “I am too
old to change my life; let the children go with the missionaries; it is
too late for us old folks.”

When told that Jesus loved all; that He died for the old and the young;
that He would take all who obeyed Him to heaven, where there is no
hunger, no sickness, no war, no bullets or barbed spears, or death,
he replied, with a twinkle of the eye: “That will be a good place for
cowards and lazy folks who are afraid to fight and too lazy to climb
breadfruit and cocoanut trees.” This shrewd wit excited a laugh in the
listening crowd. But order was soon restored, and taking the old man’s
hand in one of mine, and the warrior’s in the other, I begged them to
unite on the side of the Prince of Peace, and to use their influence to
prevent wars, cannibalism, and idolatry, and to cheer and help their
good teachers, Kekela and Naomi. The old man yielded and said: “I will
stand by my friend, the warrior, and by Kekela; and now let us go out
and hear you talk to us under the trees.”

The horn sounded and the people flocked together, and for an hour,
while Mr. Parker and myself addressed them, the attention was
unusually marked. When we pronounced the services ended, the old
chieftains shouted out: “No! no! We are not weary. We want to stay and
talk with you.” To this call there was a hearty response from all, and
we remained until near sundown, while hands were raised from all parts
of the group, and voices called out, “Come _here_, come to _me_, come
and talk to _us_.” The scene was marvelous, and we felt that the Lord
was there.

Kekela, who had been greatly depressed and had well-nigh given up
all hope, was wonderfully encouraged. He proposed a meeting in the
evening and the communion of the Lord’s supper, saying: “I have seven
candidates for the church of long standing, but the war and the
confusion had so disheartened me, that I was on the point of giving all
up as lost.”

The seven were examined, approved, and baptized, and with those who
had been baptized five to seven years before, making ten in all, we
commemorated the death of our Lord. It was a precious season, “a night
long to be remembered.”

The French have made several wholesome laws for the islands, forbidding
wars, murder, cannibalism, sorcery, etc., on the leeward, or northwest
islands, including Nuuhiva, Uapou, and Uahuna. These laws were
beginning to take effect.

We had to carry back Laioha and Kauwealoha, who had been with us all
the time among the islands as guide, interpreter, and companion, to
their stations. When this was done, we offered thanksgivings to God
for our safe and prosperous voyage; and then, with all sails set, the
prow of our good vessel was turned to the northwest, and we left the
Marquesas, where we had spent twenty-three days. We anchored at Hilo on
June 6, 1867.

[Sidenote: _Decline of the Marquesan Mission._]

The number added to the Marquesan churches during this visit of the
_Star_ was forty-eight. The whole number from the beginning was
sixty-two.

In closing the history of my visits to this group, I can not forbear
expressing regrets that the mission has been so depleted. In September,
1880, we had only three laborers with their wives in that field. The
broad opening to the west, the call for laborers, for funds, and for
the services of our missionary packet, have led many of the friends
of missions on our islands to feel that we can not afford to send out
reinforcements to the Marquesas, or to spare the _Morning Star_ to make
an annual or biennial trip with a delegate to that group, and so out of
ten stations which we once occupied, only three remain with teachers.

The commencement of our work there was auspicious, and its progress and
fruits were encouraging, more so than of the mission to the Society
Islands, or to China, or to many other parts of the world.

But as it is said in Scripture, “The destruction of the poor is his
poverty,” so we must say of our work. And this is the wail over all the
earth,--want of laborers to gather the harvest, and want of material
means to give strength, courage, and due success to the weary toilers
in the field. Our three missionaries in the Marquesas are doing what
they can, and there is still encouragement that war, idolatry, and
cannibalism would soon cease, could we but continue the Gospel work
among that people.

XV.

_Visit to the United States--Salt Lake--Chicago--Washington
City--Brooklyn--Old Killingworth--Changes in the
Homestead--Passing Away--Return to Hilo--Death of Mrs. Coan._

After an absence of more than thirty-five years from the United States,
we were persuaded by the kind solicitations of friends, and by a
repeated invitation from the American Board, to return for a visit.
The health of Mrs. Coan being precarious, and no medical skill at the
Islands affording relief, it seemed the more desirable to go.

We arrived at San Francisco May 5, 1870. Spending fourteen days in
California, we took an Eastern train, spent a Sabbath at Salt Lake
City, saw the Prophet and several of his apostles, met several of the
Mormon missionaries whom we had seen in Hilo, attended service in
the great tabernacle, heard much bold assertion without proof, and
witnessed a singular observance of the Lord’s supper, the elements
being distributed by laughing boys, while a speaker was haranguing the
audience without making a single allusion to the death of Christ,
or to the ordinance which commemorated that event. We also saw the
foundation of the great temple, which a bold declaimer said was a
literal fulfillment of the prophecy of Isaiah ii. 2: that “the mountain
of the Lord’s house shall be established in the top of the mountains,
and shall be exalted above the hills; and all nations shall flow unto
it.”

The speaker affirmed that this prediction was now fulfilled before the
eyes of the Mormons, and all the people shouted _Amen_.

We spent a little time in Iowa, and arrived in Chicago June 1st. Here
I was called to labor more abundantly, and here we met many warm
friends, and two sons of our esteemed associates Mr. and Mrs. D. B.
Lyman; one of them a physician of prominence, the other a lawyer. In
this marvelous city we spent two weeks, and then came eastward. In all,
we visited more than twenty States and Territories, everywhere finding
multitudes of Christian friends; many of whom we had seen before, and
many more whom we had not seen in the flesh, but who were fathers and
mothers, brothers and sisters and friends in Christ Jesus.

[Sidenote: _The States Revisited._]

We found our country broad, fertile, populous, and wealthy. It had
extended from ocean to ocean; its villages, towns, and cities had
multiplied, and its population increased beyond a parallel in history.
Its schools, its colleges, its churches, and its humane and benevolent
institutions had multiplied marvelously. Its railroads formed a
web-work over all the land, and its telegraphic wires were quivering
through the atmosphere. Its progress in science, in art, in discovery,
in intelligence, in invention, in wealth, and in Christianity, seemed
to make it the pride of all lands.

And yet the scars of war were everywhere. The empty sleeves, the
crutches, the trunks without a leg, the sightless eyes, the disfigured
faces, were marks of the ghastly wounds of war. And then the dead
of Gettysburg, Arlington Heights, and other silent hecatombs, the
youth, the strength of the country; the millions that sleep in dust
to be numbered no more among the sons, the fathers, the husbands, the
citizens of our beloved land!

But our country needed this fiery chastisement, and it will be better
in the end if so be that the North and South understand and profit by
the lesson.

Our social intercourse, not only with personal friends and old
acquaintances, but with a multitude of new-formed friends, was
precious and endearing. It would be a great gratification to mention
names, were it possible, and to record our tribute of gratitude and
thanks to God for the many kind and Christian attentions shown us
everywhere--attentions that left impressions on our hearts which time
and space can not eradicate.

My opportunities to meet Christian conventions and associations,
Sabbath-schools, Monday meetings of clergymen, meetings of benevolent
societies, of working-women, etc., were numerous and exhilarating; and
one thing which charmed me, if possible, more than any other, was the
fact that partition-walls were gradually giving way between different
evangelical denominations.

I was glad to be invited by brethren of various denominations to speak
in their assemblies of the love of God and of His wonderful work among
the heathen tribes of the Pacific. More than once I was in the pulpit
and on the platform with beloved ministers of the Episcopal Church.
In Monday morning meetings of pastors for prayers and consultation, I
met Presbyterians, Baptists, Methodists, Congregationalists, and many
others, and my tongue longed to sing with David: “Behold how good and
how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity.”

My talks in large and smaller assemblies during the eleven months we
were in the States numbered two hundred and thirty-nine.

Assuredly the Lord has commanded the blessing to rest on all such
unions of heart among His people. There need be no harm in the varied
organization of Christian workers. There may be a beauty and an
increased efficiency in it, as there is in the organization of armies,
or other corps of officers or laborers, if only there be harmony of
heart, “the unity of spirit in the bonds of peace.”

[Sidenote: _Visit in Washington._]

One of our happiest weeks was spent in the city of Washington.
Every day was full of interest. We looked in upon our institutions,
legislative, civil, literary, benevolent, and religious, and were
cheered to see so much of good sense, philanthropy, and earnest piety
modifying and refining life in the metropolis of the Union.

We visited the Howard University, in company with its President, and
attended one of its commencements in a crowded church in the city. The
exercises did honor to the faculty and the speakers, and the large
and cultivated assembly, in which were seen many if not most of the
clergy of the city, with numbers of the Senators and Representatives
of the nation, manifested a lively interest in all the ceremonies of
the occasion. Several of the students were graduated with honors. The
speeches of the colored students were good, and that of one of the
darkest in his class was not only sensible, but brilliant.

I need not speak of our visits by invitation to theological and female
seminaries--Andover, Bradford, Vassar, Union, Auburn, and Princeton,
and of our great enjoyment on these occasions.

The meeting of the American Board for 1870 was held in Brooklyn,
and for the first time we had the privilege of attending this annual
gathering.

Here we met missionaries and men of distinction from the Orient and
the Occident, from every continent, and from many an island of the
globe. Never shall I forget that great congregation of glowing faces
and earnest listeners. I have seen larger and more compact assemblies
on Hawaii, but they were less responsive. This was like a sea of
shining silver. It was mind and soul looking out of its windows; it was
intelligence, culture, piety, beaming like sunlight from human faces.

I have seen Mauna Kea veiled with the mantle of night, and casting its
gigantic shadow of darkness upon us. Again I have seen it when the
first rays of the rising sun began to gild its summit. Watching it for
a little while, the light poured down its rocky sides, chasing the
night before it, until the mighty pile stood out clothed in burnished
gold, and shining like a monarch arrayed in robes of glory.

And when I gazed upon that platform in Brooklyn, and cast my eyes upon
the great assembly which filled the house, I said in my heart, “When
will Polynesia and Micronesia display such a gathering of wisdom,
piety, and moral power? A brighter than a natural sun begins to illume
the darkness of those lands, chasing away the night of ages; but when
will the full-orbed Sun of Righteousness ascend to the zenith and
pour a flood of light and glory over all our benighted islands?” And
then I reflected that even these lights of the Christian churches were
yet to flicker as distant tapers before the coming glories of Zion, as
predicted in the sixtieth chapter of Isaiah.

[Sidenote: _The Old Home Revisited._]

Our visit to Killingworth, my native town, was full of interest. Tender
memories of childhood and youth often drew tears. Sixty-nine years
had swept along the flood of time since my eyes first saw the light
of day, and forty-four since I had left the home where I was born and
nourished. The homestead where my father taught his boys to plow and
harrow, to plant and hoe, to sow and reap, to cradle and bind, to mow
and rake, and pitch and gather into the barn the winter’s feed for
cattle, was there. The orchard, where we children gathered apples and
other fruits, was there; but many of the choice trees were gone, and
the great sugar-maple and the nut-bearing trees where we had contested
with the squirrel for our winter stores had disappeared. The cottage,
where eight children had been reared, and where, as years passed on, we
gathered at our annual thanksgivings, was desolate and silent, and no
living voice came up from lawn and meadow and field which once echoed
with the shout and merry laughter of childhood. The cool waters of the
well were unruffled, and the sweep and “the old oaken bucket” were
no more. The “Cranberry Brook” sung and babbled amidst the alders
and witch-hazels, but with no response from eager, gleesome anglers
and bathers. Birds built their nests and sang and reared their broods
without disturbance.

The old school-house, with its broad fire-place, and its benches
of slabs; the round side-down, with rough wooden legs and lacking
supports for the children’s backs, were replaced by a convenient room,
with stove, and easy seats, and other improvements. The barn-like
meeting-house, with its high galleries and lofty sounding-board, and
the little foot-stoves which comforted the mothers, while the fathers
sat chilled on bleak, wintry Sundays, had disappeared, and a new
building was in its stead. I went to it; there was a new pastor, and
the congregation was mostly new. Here and there a white-crowned head
in the assembly revealed a schoolmate or a friend and companion of my
youthful days. Ah, memories how tender, how dear, how deathless! I went
to the cemetery, where friends once near to me had been gathered one by
one, and where each of the departed ones slept alone unconscious of his
proximity to the dust of his dearest earthly friend. On the marble I
read the sober epitaph of father, mother, sister, neighbor, and friend.
Stones in other grave-yards already marked the resting-places of all my
brothers save one, and he has since that time departed.

Thankful for one more view of my boyhood’s home, with chastened
reflections I turned from it for the last time.

[Sidenote: _Fidelia Church Coan._]

* * * * *

On our return to Hilo we met a cordial welcome from all, and the church
and people were in a prosperous state. But a heavy shadow darkened over
our home. The dear one who had been its light and joy for thirty-six
years was growing feebler day by day, and the signs of her departure
could not be mistaken.

Calmly she began to set her house in order, to be ready to welcome the
coming messenger. She assured us of her unshaken faith in Christ, and
prepared farewell suggestions for the dear ones she was soon to leave.

On Sunday, Sept. 29, 1872, the faithful spirit took its flight upward.
Her sojourn on the earth was three-score and two years; her life above
is “where eternal ages roll.”

There were tender and solemn funeral services in our church on Monday,
but the day was stormy, and it was not till the following morning
that the dust of our beloved one was laid to rest in the cemetery on
Prospect Hill, where hers was the first grave. On the marble that marks
the spot, these words are inscribed:

“‘Faithful unto death,’
Crowned with life.”

The cemetery is in a beautiful place; the towering mountains are upon
the west and south. East and north stretches the ocean, and a glorious
emerald landscape is on every side. The soft breezes that rustle the
leaves, and the murmurs of the distant surf, do not wake the sleeping
form that awaits the behest of Him who is “the Resurrection and the
Life.” The soul unfettered, unchained, has drawn nearer than they to
the throne.

The dear one was an extensive and eclectic reader, a clear and logical
thinker. Her mind and heart were well prepared to take an active part
in the literary and religious discussions and activities of the age,
but she freely chose the life of a missionary to the heathen. To me
she was a peerless helper. Her self-denial was marvelous. The same
self-abnegation which led her to say to me, in answer to the question,
“Shall I go to Patagonia?” “My dear, you must go!” controlled her whole
life. She never objected to my going on my most severe or perilous
expeditions along the shores or on the mountains of Hawaii; or held me
back when duty called me to the Marquesas Islands. When I expostulated
with her against remaining alone in the house, as she sometimes did,
she would answer, “I am not afraid.”

To her tender love, her faithful care, her wise counsels, her efficient
help, and her blameless life, I owe under God the chief part of my
happiness, and of my usefulness if I have had any, as a laborer in the
Master’s vineyard.

XVI.

_Notes on the Stations--Hawaii--Governor Kuakini--Maui--Crater of
Hale-a-ka-la--Molokai--The Leper Settlement--Oahu--Kauai--The
State of the Church._

A few notes on other parts of the Hawaiian Islands may not be
irrelevant in this narrative.

The great awakening of which I have written so fully was felt in a
greater or less degree over all the islands of the group, and the
ingatherings into all the churches, from the beginning to the present
day, have been more than 70,000. My visits to the different islands
and stations, my fraternal communion with the faithful laborers, and
the cordial interest I have found among many thousands of Hawaiians in
the things pertaining to the kingdom of God, have been “as the dew of
Hermon, and as the dew that descended upon the mountains of Zion” to my
soul.

On the north of Hawaii I have met my earnest brother Lyons, full of
poetic fire; have passed several times through Hamakua, once a populous
district of his field, and have seen the gathering thousands in their
places of worship. I have visited at his cool and elevated station in
Waimea, surrounded like Jerusalem by mountains, having Mauna Kea on
the east, Mauna Loa on the south-east, Hualalai on the south, and the
mountains of Kohala on the north, and all these towering heights in
full view. In the midst of this amphitheater of hills stood his great
stone church, where 1,000 or 2,000 natives would assemble on special
occasions to hear the Gospel, to worship the Lord, and to unite in
happy festivals.

During one of my visits at Waimea I was prostrated by fever, and for
two Sundays was unable to occupy the pulpit; the only time, according
to my recollection, that I have been prevented by sickness from going
to the sanctuary of the Lord since I came to these islands.

On one occasion I went with Mr. Lyons over the northern hills to
Kohala, the most northerly district of our Islands, once a part of
his parish, where we spent a week in religious services, and where we
saw many penitents asking the way to Zion. And I have visited this
field again, since the arrival of its present faithful and successful
occupant, the Rev. Elias Bond, and rejoiced in all its fruit-bearing
prosperity.

I have descended into the deep and grand valley of Waipio, filled like
a bee-hive with human beings, garmented in the living green of its
vegetation, shining with its running streams, with its silvery cascade
leaping from a precipice 1,500 feet in height, and thundering forever
in the deep basin below.

[Sidenote: _Glimpses of the Island._]

I have stood on the very summit of Mauna Kea, 14,000 feet above my
Hilo home, and looked down upon the three neighboring mountains, over
the great valley of Waimea, upon the green fields and shining bay of
Hilo, and right opposite upon the calm waters of Kawaihae, and over and
beyond the thirty miles’ channel upon the sleeping mountain of Maui,
and the quiet heights of Lanai and Kahoolawe.

On the coast at Kawaihae I have seen and measured the last great
_heiau_ or heathen temple, of the renowned Kamehameha I., where human
sacrifices were offered to the gods that can not save or destroy. I
have also visited other heathen temples in Kona, Puna, Hilo, on Molokai
and in other places. In the forest under the shadow of Mauna Kea, I
have seen the bullock-pit where the dead body of the distinguished
Scotch naturalist, Douglass, was found under painfully suspicious
circumstances, that led many to believe that he had been murdered
for his money. A mystery hangs over the event which we are unable to
explain.

Leaving Northern Hawaii, let us glance at the western coast. Here
lies the extended and once populous district of Kona, sheltered from
the trade winds by the great mountains, with a smooth and glassy sea
lapping its shores, with many a quiet boat-landing in little bays and
coves along its coast; and with the deep and safe harbor Kaawaloa, near
the center of the coast-line. On the Kaawaloa side of this bay is the
place where Capt. Cook fell under the blows of the enraged Hawaiians.
On the south, or Kealakeakua side of the bay, we see the little _heiau_
built for Opukahaia, or Obookaia, and the cocoa-palm which his young
hands planted, before he was taken to the United States.

A few miles south of this bay we find, perhaps, the largest and most
renowned idol temple in this group, with a house and yard attached
called “Hale a Keawe”--House of Keawe. This house was once filled with
grim idols, and in this heiau the most obscene and bloody rites were
observed. It was also called _Puuhonua_, meaning place of refuge, and
resembled, in some of its features and uses, the old Hebrew cities of
refuge. No place on the Islands was considered more sacred and awful
than this. Life and death hung on the wills of the kings and priests
who worshiped in this temple. When I first visited the place, many of
the old idols remained, some standing within, others on the outside, in
front of the house, as guardians and to blast the lawless wight whose
temerity led him to approach the habitation of the gods. These idols
were blackened and blear, and ready to depart like frightened ghosts,
and I understand that they have all disappeared, as was long ago
predicted by Isaiah, “The idols He shall utterly abolish.”

[Sidenote: _Father Thurston--Governor Kuakini._]

At Kailua, with my now sainted companion, I visited the venerable
father and mother Thurston in the days of their strength, and also
the good and kind-hearted Artemas Bishop, and our hearts burned with
love and veneration for those devoted servants of the Lord Jesus. Mr.
Thurston was a man of great power, both physical and spiritual. He
wielded a battle-axe, and yet he was meek and modest to a fault. He
was often invited and advised to visit the United States before his
earthly course was finished, and we have heard that he replied, “No, I
had rather die than to return to the fatherland.” His good wife was a
“mother in Israel,” full of wisdom and grace.

In Kailua one would see the gigantic chief Kuakini, or John Adams. His
weight was near four hundred pounds. He was governor and lord of all
Hawaii, with an iron will, fearing neither man nor monarch, proud to
call out a thousand men to build a causeway, or a dam for enclosing
fish, to cut sandal-wood in the mountains, or to build a large church
edifice. A member of the Kailua church, he often visited Hilo, and he
sat in his arm-chair, under shelter, to superintend the building of
the vast native church in the days of Mr. Goodrich. He loved power and
flattery, and, like Jehu, “he took no heed to walk in the law of the
Lord with all his heart.” He sometimes refused to obey his king, saying
that on Hawaii his power was supreme. He was somewhat oppressive of the
people. For example; he would occasionally make the tour of the whole
island, sending messengers before to command the natives to build him
large houses at all places where he would spend a night or a day or
two, and also to prepare large quantities of fish, fowls, pigs, eggs,
poi, potatoes, etc., against his arrival. When he swept around the
island his attendants would number two or three score of men, women,
and children, all to be fed by the people where he lodged. In some
favorable place he would sometimes encamp for a month, consuming almost
all the eatables within a radius of two or three miles. He loved money;
and when his pastor advised his people not to plant tobacco and _awa_,
he would say to those on his own lands: “Listen to your teacher; do
what I tell you. I tell you to plant tobacco.”

I had testimony that he would sometimes purchase a barrel of rum or
whisky, put it in a secret place, and order appointed agents to sell
it out for two dollars a bottle secretly. Some of these acts came to
the knowledge of his pastor, Mr. Thurston, at whose kind and faithful
efforts to reform him the Governor took offense, and retorted with
abusive language. Finally, he was suspended from the church, and in
this state he remained for a long time, when he fell ill and died.

[Sidenote: _Brothers in the Field._]

I was in Kailua, and visited him on his death-bed, conversing and
praying with him, with his consent. His mind was dark and gloomy, and
he said: “I am a great sinner, and I do not think the Lord will care
for me or save me.” There we leave him, thankful for all the good he
did, and sorrowful that his light did not shine brighter.

At Kealakeakua we visited our good friends, the Rev. C. Forbes and
his wife, and here we rejoiced in the good work of the Lord. As in
Kailua, the people were numerous, and the Sabbath congregations large.
All things looked promising at this station, and our fellowship with
the teachers and the people was of the most happy character. Mr. and
Mrs. Van Duzee were assistants in missionary work. And after all had
left, the Rev. J. D. Paris, whose first station was in Kau, was located
there, and labored in that field for many years.

Kau was only seventy miles from Hilo, and he was our nearest neighbor.
Here I have visited frequently, meeting at different times the various
mission families who succeeded one another as vacancies in the field
occurred through removal or death. The Rev. Messrs. Paris, Hunt,
Kinney, Gulick, Shipman, and Pogue, with their wives, have all been
laborers in this district.

In the six districts or counties of Hawaii the native population has
greatly decreased, and of the numerous missionaries of the American
Board who have occupied the several stations, none remain except at
Kohala, Waimea, and Hilo. We who still hold on are soon to pass away,
leaving the churches in the hands of Hawaiian pastors.

As I have visited the churches and missionaries on the other islands of
the group, and felt a deep interest in the pastors and the people, I
will give a brief sketch of most of them.

Lahaina, the capital of Maui, was once full of natives. The large
stone church, with galleries, was full on every Lord’s day, morning
and afternoon, and the things of the kingdom of God seemed prominent
in the minds of the people. The beloved Mr. and Mrs. Richards were
highly esteemed, and their doors and hearts were ever open to their
missionary brethren and sisters who landed feeble and faint from the
sluggish Hawaiian craft on their way down from Hawaii to attend the
annual meeting in Honolulu or on their return voyage. What relief, what
comfort, what cheer we all found in the hospitality of this half-way
station! It was like an oasis in the desert, and a fountain of cold
water amidst burning sands. Here our children gamboled under the
waving palms and the spreading hau-trees, eating delicious grapes and
cocoanuts, while the parents conversed on themes of paramount interest.

[Sidenote: _Lahaina and Lahainaluna._]

We have met here not only the patriarch Richards, but the active
seaman’s chaplain, Spaulding, the faithful Dr. Alonzo Chapin, and the
hospitable brother and sister Baldwin, he being the last missionary
pastor of that church. There were several distinguished native
Christians in this place with whom we held pleasant intercourse. Well
do we remember the good and noble Governor Hoopili and his wife.
They were the soul of kindness and Christian friendship. Whenever we
approached their neatly-kept dwelling, their doors were opened at once
with a warm welcome, and with outstretched hands and benignant smiles
they would call out, “Aloha! komo mai”--love to you! come in!

But most of those with whom we took sweet counsel in Lahaina, have long
since gone the way of all the earth; the population of the town has
decreased, and the place has become a cane-field, with a crushing-mill
and boiling-house in the center of the village, a large amount of sugar
being made there. A native pastor has charge of the church.

Lahainaluna, or Upper Lahaina, is about two miles back of Lahaina,
and elevated several hundred feet above it. This is the seat of our
Hawaiian College, established, and for many years sustained, by
the American Board. It was designed as a training-school of high
grade for preparing young men for teachers, preachers, and for the
occupation of the more important stations in the nation. This school
was in operation when we arrived at the Islands, under the care and
instruction of the Revs. Lorrin Andrews, E. W. Clark, and Sheldon
Dibble. All these brethren and their wives are dead. The institution
has been transferred to the Hawaiian Government, and a large number of
teachers has been employed there since the first corps removed.

In early years we usually paid an annual visit to this seminary, on
our way to or from Honolulu. These visits were always refreshing, on
account of the height, coolness, and grand scenery of the station, the
cordial welcome of the teachers, and the profound interest we felt in
the prosperity of the school.

The views from Lahainaluna are beautiful and sublime. Inland rise the
serrated mountains, and the deep valleys of West Maui; in front are
the placid roadstead and shining channel separating Maui from Lanai;
the latter name signifying veranda or porch, and so called because it
stands like a portico directly in front of Maui. To the right we look
across a channel some twelve miles wide, separating Maui from Molokai.
This channel is often disturbed by strong trade winds which lash the
waters into white foam, rendering the passage for boats difficult and
sometimes dangerous.

[Sidenote: _The Hana Station._]

We have been several times at Hana, a station on the eastern shore of
East Maui, and looking directly across the wide Hawaiian channel upon
Kohala. It is a beautiful and romantic little place, but very difficult
of access. On one side are numerous and deep gulches, with rapid
streams of water, often dangerous to cross. On the other side there are
extended fields of sun-heated lavas, without water or human habitations.

This station was once occupied by the Revs. D. T. Conde and Eliphalet
Whittlesey. On our way to Honolulu our vessel has stopped at this place
to take the missionaries there to the General Meeting, giving us an
opportunity to spend a Sunday and to meet the natives.

Once we found these isolated laborers destitute of almost all edibles
except arrow-root and milk. In spite of their regrets, we spent a very
happy day notwithstanding this lack of provisions. We ate and were
satisfied, and we rejoiced in the privilege of Christian fellowship
with these self-denying teachers. It is now a long time since these
families returned to the United States.

The Rev. Sereno Bishop, only son of the missionary Artemas Bishop,
labored there for a while with his devoted Christian wife, but
subsequently assumed the charge of the institution at Lahainaluna.
Hana is now occupied by a native pastor, and is greatly reduced in
population.

Wailuku on Maui is an important missionary station. This field, like
many others, was once teeming with thousands of natives. Its romantic
valleys, its lofty precipices, its sparkling rills, and its perennial
verdure on the one side, and, on the other, its broad plains, its sand
dunes, its emerald foot-hills, and the towering mountain, Haleakala,
with the blue ocean on the left, make it a spectacle of beauty, of
variety, and of grandeur not often surpassed.

This station was once occupied by the devoted Miss Ogden and the Rev.
J. S. Green, who conducted a large and flourishing boarding-school for
Hawaiian girls. This was afterward sorrowfully abandoned for lack of
funds.

We have visited Wailuku when the beloved brother and sister Clark,
and the energetic Armstrong and his wife, were toiling here with
success; and we have been the guests of our honored brother and sister
Alexander, still living and laboring for the Master in this important
field. The Greens, the Clarks, Miss Ogden, and Dr. Armstrong have all
gone, and those who remain will only “a little longer wait.” Two native
pastors are settled here over small congregations, and there is also an
English-speaking church for the foreign residents.

[Sidenote: _East Maui._]

This district is now full of agricultural energy. Vast fields of
sugar-cane wave where weeds grew before; crushing-mills groan,
boiling-trains steam, smoke-stacks puff, centrifugals buzz, and
ship-loads of sugar are produced in and around Wailuku. Extended
and expensive ditches bring water from the mountains of East Maui,
converting vast fields of dry and hot sand into rich and productive
soil; the telephone, the telegraph, and the railroad are there, and
the material improvements multiply. All would be matters of rejoicing
and congratulation could we but report equal progress in moral and
spiritual power.

On the highlands of East Maui stands the Makawao Female Seminary, an
important institution, conducted by Miss Helen Carpenter, a lady of
great skill and devotion in this necessary work. A few years ago I
attended the annual examination of this seminary, and spent a week as a
guest of the principal. I was exceedingly interested in the appearance
of the pupils, and in the remarkable skill and tact of the teacher. All
the instruction is in the English language, and it was delightful to
see the acquisitions of the scholars in the various studies they had
pursued.

During this visit at Makawao we made up a party to ascend to the
summit crater of Haleakala--“House of the Sun,” the distance from this
point being about thirteen miles, with a bridle-path for horses all
the way. Notwithstanding many previous visits to Maui, I had never
before indulged myself with a trip to this monster of craters. We
had a delightful ride over hills and swales, and through fields of
strawberries and ohelos. About midway of the distance we rested for a
short time under shade trees near a lovely rill of cool limpid water, a
beautiful spot which has since been selected by the Alexanders, as an
invigorating retreat from the heat and dust of Wailuku and Haiku, and
which they have named Olinda.

We arrived at the summit about 3 +P.M.+ We were now 10,217 feet above
sea-level, and yet the sun was hot and the mercury high. In eight hours
the thermometer had fallen forty degrees, and the cold was intense. Our
guide and some of the party had collected such scanty fuel as could
be found, and we made ourselves as comfortable as was possible for
the night, around the fire that was kindled, and under shelter of an
overhanging rock. In the morning the ground was whitened with frost,
and water was frozen.

The view of this vast cauldron needs to be repeated and continued
for a long time, in order to get a full and clear impression of its
magnitude. It has been estimated that the circumference on the outer
rim is thirty miles, and the depth 1,800 feet. The floor of this
amphitheater is studded with sixteen cones, four to six hundred feet
high, composed of scoria and cinders, appearing from the upper rim like
small sand dunes dropped from a dumping-car.

[Sidenote: _Haleakala Crater._]

The eastern rim of the crater is broken down as low as its floor,
furnishing a broad passage for the molten flood to the sea. This river
of fire, some three miles wide, must have been a terrific spectacle,
as it rushed in raging billows from the mouth of the crater and hurried
down the mountain-side and into the ocean.

It is supposed that this crater is the largest and deepest on our
planet, and more nearly resembles some of the yawning craters of
the moon. Time was when the raging fires on this mountain must have
surpassed in grandeur and brilliancy any that have been anywhere seen
by later generations. For ages these lurid fires have been extinct, and
from time immemorial silence has reigned over the sleeping hill. Can
geology, can all human science tell us when these fires were kindled?
how long they raged and roared? and when they were extinguished? Was
it before or after the Prophet Isaiah uttered, in sublime language,
a description of the Tophet near Jerusalem? “For Tophet is ordained
of old.... He hath made it deep and large: the pile thereof is fire
and much wood; the breath of the Lord like a stream of brimstone doth
kindle it.”

But another scene, if less grand, yet more beautiful, awaited us.
As the sun descended lower and lower in the west, the fleecy clouds
came drifting in from the sea, and, massing around the bases of East
and West Maui, covered all the seas, and bays, and channels in every
direction, leaving only the tops of Hawaii, Maui, and Lanai visible.
The upper surface of these clouds was fleecy white, and appeared
like a vast sea of eider-down. We stood above the clouds in bright
sunshine, but we saw no water and no land in any direction, except the
summits of the mountains gilded in the setting sun. We gazed upon the
scene below us with intense interest. As the sun went lower and lower,
his rays began to dance, and play, and sparkle upon this vast sea of
snowy whiteness, in lambent beauty, and as he dipped into the fleecy
bed a flood of glowing scintillations flashed over the whole surface,
the prismatic tints twinkling, dancing, gleaming, and quivering in
inimitable beauty. A scene unique indeed, and unexcelled by anything of
the kind I had seen from the heights of Chili or of Hawaii.

Then the night came on, and the clouds rested like a pall over land
and sea, while in the clear heavens above us the bright constellations
sparkled as on a winter’s night in the far-away home-land.

In 1836 I visited the island of Molokai, which at that time was
occupied by the earnest and laborious missionaries, the Rev. H. R.
Hitchcock and his wife. Congregations and schools were large, and the
people seemed to come readily under the influence and leading of their
teachers. The Revs. Lowell Smith, Samuel G. Dwight, A. O. Forbes, and
Mr. Bethuel Munn have all labored on this island, but now for years
past no American missionary has resided there.

[Sidenote: _The Leper Settlement._]

Molokai is strongly marked with _palis_, or precipices, and at the base
of one 3,000 feet high, lie the Kalaupapa plains, stretching seaward,
and having no other communication than by sea with the outside world.
Thither more than a thousand of our poor suffering people have been
carried during the last decade and a half, to linger through a living
death until the fearful leprosy brings them to the grave. Our sanitary
laws are relentless, and in the case of this disease they doom husbands
and wives, parents and children, brothers and sisters to lifelong
separation.

The scenes upon our wharves when a company of lepers is being embarked
for transportation to their settlement are often agonizing.

The present number in the settlement is about 700, among whom are
many of our well-educated Christians and some of the native pastors.
A physician and medicines, a church edifice and chaplain are provided
by a kindly Government; friends are allowed to communicate with their
banished kindred, and all that thoughtful kindness can do to ameliorate
the miseries of those forlorn beings is done.

Oahu is better known to the reading world than any of the other
Hawaiian Islands. Thousands of strangers have visited Honolulu; it
is the capital of the kingdom, and has a population of about 15,000.
When I first saw it, on the 6th of June, 1835, it was anything but
an inviting place. The streets were narrow, irregular, and dirty,
the houses mostly small and thatched with grass, some being built of
adobes, or sun-dried mud-bricks, and others on posts set in the ground.
Only a few stone or framed houses were then seen, and these were mostly
owned by foreign residents and native chiefs. Hardly a green tree or
shrub was seen within the limits of the town. On its western flank, a
small creek came down the valley called Nuuanu, furnishing muddy water
for the taro ponds, and bathing and washing places for a multitude of
natives with their pigs, ducks, and dogs. At several points removed
from the stream, shallow wells had been dug six to ten feet deep, where
hard and brackish water was found, but this water satisfied none but
Hawaiians.

Along the shore in sandy and marshy places the cocoa-palm flourished
with rushes, hibiscus, and pandanus growths; but over the extended
plain, some three miles in length and about one mile in breadth, there
was little but an arid desert of burning coral sand and detritus from
the rocky hills, the reflection from which was scorching.

[Sidenote: _Honolulu._]

But times, and scenes, and scenery are changed. Industry, civilization,
and science have made this scorched desert blossom as the rose. The
organization of a good government, the increase of revenues, the
introduction of capital, with brain power and muscular energy, have
made Honolulu a place of remarkable beauty. Large reservoirs have been
constructed high up the valleys, pipes have been laid all over the
city, and spouting hydrants cool the air and refresh the trees, plants,
and flowers of a thousand yards and gardens. Viewed from the sea as
one enters the harbor, or from one of the hills that guard it in the
rear, the town is a picture of enchanting loveliness. It is a tropical
paradise, glowing in perennial beauty.

And, to add to the richness of the soil, the value of products and the
charm of the scenery, artesian wells are beginning to throw up their
pure jets and to pour out their limpid streams to cheer the plains
around.

Honolulu also has an improved and excellent harbor, in which are often
seen the waving flags of nearly all civilized nations, with five or
six home steamers, and an inter-island fleet of which so young and so
small a nation need not be ashamed. Its wharves, its esplanade, its
custom-house, its palace, its fine Government house and other public
buildings, offer a surprising contrast to what we saw forty years
ago. It has two large Hawaiian churches, a seamen’s bethel where many
thousands of the sons of the deep have heard the sound of the Gospel,
first from the lips of the Rev. Mr. Diell, and now for some forty years
from Dr. Damon. There is also the flourishing Fort Street church,
under the care of the Rev. Walter Frear, where the Gospel is preached
faithfully to an intelligent audience. Just across the street is the
Catholic cathedral with its bishop, and not far from this an English
Reformed Catholic church with its bishop and priests.

The city is provided with schools of various grades, and its literary,
social, and benevolent associations are numerous and active.

The Hawaiian Board of Home and Foreign Missions has its seat in
Honolulu, with a yearly income of more than $30,000, to be appropriated
to the several branches of Christian work under its care.

It may be doubted whether any city in Christendom of equal size has a
larger proportion of intelligent Christian workers, who give more of
their substance in the cause of beneficence, than the foreign residents
of Honolulu.

[Sidenote: _Churches in the Capital._]

The first native church in this city was organized under the pastoral
care of the Rev. Hiram Bingham, who came to the Islands in 1820. In
1836 his congregation, which sometimes numbered 4,000, were worshiping
in a thatched house that covered an area of 12,348 square feet; this
afterward gave place to the stone church, which stands as one of
the landmarks of the city. The plan of the building was made by Mr.
Bingham, and most of the materials for it were collected under his
supervision. The massive walls were raised to a considerable height,
when he was called to return to the fatherland on account of the
failing health of his beloved wife. Both husband and wife died in
the United States, leaving behind them examples of rare devotion and
blessed memories.

The Rev. R. Armstrong became the successor of Mr. Bingham, until called
to be Minister of Education for the Hawaiian kingdom, when the Rev. E.
W. Clark assumed the pastorate until he left for the United States.
In 1863, the present incumbent, Rev. H. H. Parker, was ordained and
installed the fourth pastor of this church.

The second Hawaiian church in Honolulu was organized many years ago
under the pastoral charge of the Rev. Lowell Smith, and since his
resignation, it has been successively under the care of the Rev. A. O.
Forbes, and of two native pastors.

Near the large stone church is the flourishing Kawaiahao Female
Seminary. Its germ was a small family school, under the care of the
Rev. L. H. Gulick and wife. Miss Lydia Bingham, principal of the
Ohio Female College near Cincinnati, was called to take the charge
of this school. Under her patient energy and tact, with the help of
her assistants, it prospered greatly, and became a success. When Miss
Bingham came to Hilo, the seminary was committed to the charge of her
sister, whose earnest labors for seven years in a task that is heavy
and exhausting so reduced her strength, that in June, 1880, she was
obliged to resign her post. It is now occupied by Miss Helen Norton, a
graduate of South Hadley.

At Punahou, about two miles east of Honolulu, stands a quiet little
institution called Oahu College. The location is beautiful, healthy,
and convenient. The buildings stand just at the opening of an
enchanting valley, and near a spring of cool crystal water; there are
lofty and verdant hills in the background, and the broad waters of the
Pacific in front. The land was once owned by the Rev. H. Bingham, and
was given by him to this institution.

The foundations of the Punahou school were laid with the prayers
and benedictions of all the fathers and mothers of the mission, and
of its friends and patrons. For years it was devoted exclusively to
the children of the missionaries; but as foreign residents and their
children increased, the accommodations were enlarged and the doors
opened to others. The college has grown and been greatly prospered.
It has had many graduates, who have done honor to their professors,
to themselves, and to the cause of science and Christianity. It needs
and deserves endowments. We doubt not it would receive generous and
efficient aid from American benefactors, could they come near enough to
feel its wants and appreciate its merits.

[Sidenote: _Out-Stations on Oahu._]

The missionary out-stations on Oahu were but three, viz: Ewa, Waialua,
and Kaneohe. I used to visit these places when large congregations
assembled to be instructed by their pastors; but the population has
decreased, the churches are diminished, and the remnants of these once
prosperous flocks, now under the care of native pastors, show but
little of their former life.

At Waialua there was established, by the Rev. O. H. Gulick, a
boarding-school for Hawaiian girls. On his removal as a missionary to
Japan, the institution obtained as an efficient principal the daughter
of the Rev. J. S. Green (Miss Mary Green), under whose care the school
still flourishes.

Mr. Parker and I once went as delegates of our mission around Oahu,
visiting every station, going much from house to house, teaching,
exhorting, and praying in families, in fields, and by the wayside, and
holding meetings in school-houses, churches, and private dwellings, and
endeavoring to reach all with the life-giving Word. It was a laborious
but interesting tour. In some villages we found many ignorant, stupid,
and misled people. Some were Romanists, some Mormons, and others
without any creed, or faith, or hope. Like brutes they were living, and
like brutes dying.

We met many confident Romanists, some with their catechism and rosary,
and with full assurance that they were on the direct road to Paradise,
and that all who differed from them were bound to perdition. I asked
some of them if they read the Bible, and they answered “Yes,” showing
me their little catechism, with more prayers to Mary than to God. I
asked one who claimed to be a teacher how many commandments there were
in the Decalogue. He answered “Ten”; but on going through with them in
order, I found that he omitted the second, and divided the tenth into
two parts to make good the number.

The island of Kauai is separated from Oahu by a channel some
seventy-five miles wide. It is 8,000 feet high and nearly circular,
being thirty miles long and twenty-eight wide. It is a lovely and
fertile island, and some of its mountain and valley scenery is
exquisitely beautiful. Although of igneous origin, yet the degradation
caused by time, by winds and water, gives the island the appearance of
a more ancient formation than that of the other islands of the group.
Its cones and hills are rounded by attrition, and its pit craters are
so nearly filled by alluvial deposits that they are far less distinctly
marked than those of Maui and Hawaii.

Historic geology tells us that the Islands were probably formed in
a successive order, commencing with Kauai in the north-west and
continuing in a south-east direction to Hawaii, which is still in the
hands of the Founder, and unfinished.

[Sidenote: _A Glimpse of Kauai._]

Kauai was very early occupied as a mission field, and the Whitneys,
Gulicks, Lafons, Doles, Wilcoxes, Johnsons, and Rices have been
faithful laborers there; but all have left the scenes of time or
engaged in other pursuits; and the good Dr. and Mrs. J. W. Smith and
Mrs. Rice alone remain of the mission band.

As this island was somewhat remote and out of the track of my annual
voyagings to Honolulu, and in former years could be reached only by
schooners that were liable to make slow passages, I never felt that I
had the time to visit it until in 1874. An opportunity then offering to
make the circuit-trip in a steamer, I enjoyed the privilege of spending
one night with the hospitable family of Dr. Smith, and of touching at a
few points, where I found the beauty and luxuriance of the island equal
to their fame.

Much capital has been invested there in sugar plantations, and the
skill and industry of those who have enlisted in this enterprise have
produced crops worth millions of dollars. The island has a considerable
proportion of arable land, its flora is luxuriant, and its vegetation
covers the island even to the highest hill-tops.

This rapid glance at the different islands is mainly to mention a
few facts respecting the transformations in this so recently heathen
archipelago. Over all the group the changes, physical and moral,
are wonderful. Everywhere schools and churches abound; knowledge and
wealth increase; commerce is active; more than a hundred thousand
acres of our soil wave with crops; the noise of artisans is heard; our
smelting-furnaces glow at midnight; and day and night the steam-whistle
echoes among our hills. Our climate, our scenery, our peace and
security, are privileges that are hardly rivalled in any land, and
all that we need to secure permanent peace and prosperity, with ever
advancing progress, is thankfulness to the Giver, and a faith devoted
to all that is pure.

The amount given by the churches of the United States for evangelic
work here must have been, from the beginning, about one million and
a half dollars, and the number of laborers sustained, in whole or in
part, by appropriations of the American Board, has been one hundred and
seventy.

At the present time there are only four foreign pastors for the twenty
native churches of Hawaii; on Maui, Molokai, and Lanai there are
nineteen native churches with no foreign pastors; on Oahu there are
eleven native churches and but one foreign pastor; on Kauai six native
churches and no foreign pastor, making in all, fifty-six Hawaiian
churches with only five foreign pastors.

[Sidenote: _The Close of Mission Work in Hawaii._]

Many of the fathers and mothers of the mission have finished their
course and gone home; their dust sleeps in this land of their
adoption, or in the land of their birth. Some were recalled, some
entered the Government service, and some of those who were still at
their posts, earnest and active, were advised to resign. Then the
Board, feeling that its work as a Board was virtually accomplished
here, ceased to consider this a mission field, and, entering upon a new
policy, sent out no more reinforcements, and urged the installation of
native pastors over churches that had been gathered and fed with tender
care by the faithful shepherds of the flock.

Some of our thoughtful brethren feared that a retrograde movement
would come with such a change; others reasoned that where the Word
and the Spirit converted the heathen, the same regenerating power
would provide among those converts, suitable men to act as pastors and
teachers. But our native converts were as children, and up to this day
many of them need milk rather than strong meat. They are weak, fickle,
and easily turned from the way. Intelligent and patient adherence to
a work which calls for watchfulness and continuous care, and a deep
and conscientious feeling of responsibility, can not be found or soon
developed among a primitive race like the Polynesians. China, Japan,
and India have their old civilization with its literature, their men
of keen intellect, capable of heading and guiding enterprises of
importance; men of reasoning and thinking minds, who when convinced of
the truth and importance of the Christian religion, and persuaded to
receive it as a rule of life, are soon prepared to become leaders and
teachers of others.

It is not so with the Polynesians. Prematurely to leave them to
teach, guide, and govern themselves in the concerns of the soul, may
be more disastrous and more fatal than to leave babes to take care
of themselves while the parents withdraw. The Word and Spirit of the
Lord have, in the missionaries, provided agents for the conversion
of the savages, and in these missionaries God has provided “nursing
fathers and nursing mothers” for these infant churches. To my mind the
only practical question in regard to our Pacific Islands churches is,
_when_ may they be wisely and safely left to the care of pastors from
among themselves, or in other words, when does this child come to his
majority?

[Sidenote: _State of the Hawaiian Churches._]

Nearly all of our native pastors have been slack in church discipline,
indiscriminate in receiving to church communion, and remiss in looking
after wandering members, so that our church statistics are in so
confused a state as to be past remedy. Out of more than 70,000 who have
been received to the churches, our last report returns only 7,459, or
about one in ten of those received. Is our case so much like the ten
lepers healed by Christ, of whom only one “returned to give glory to
God”? Or are the shepherds in fault? Do we come under the searching
rebuke of the prophet: “My sheep wandered through all the mountains,
and upon every high hill: yea my flock was scattered upon all the face
of the earth and none did seek after them”?

But it is right to add that the present low state of the Hawaiian
churches must not all be laid at the door of the pastors. These
are times of trial on account of material prosperity. There is an
opportunity to gain money and luxuries, and the world seems to be in
most men’s hearts, so that we are all passing through a struggle and a
strait.

We hope for a brighter day. There has been a renewed effort to train up
a class of young men for the ministry, who will, we trust, be better
qualified for the office than many of their predecessors have been.
To accomplish this, and at the earnest request of our Evangelical
Association, the American Board has selected and sent to our aid the
Rev. C. M. Hyde, D.D., a minister and pastor of ripe experience, to
become president of our North Pacific Missionary Institute in Honolulu.

In this institute he has been laboring, with several assistants, with
a wise and earnest zeal, for about three years, during which time the
school has been gaining steadily in reputation.

XVII.

_The Hawaiian Character--Its Amiability--Island
Hospitality--Patience, Docility--Indolence, Lack of Economy,
Fickleness--Want of Independence--Untruthfulness--Decrease of the
Population._

That the Hawaiians are amiable and gentle in disposition is, I
think, admitted by all candid observers who are well acquainted with
them. They are not excessively vindictive, but easily pacified when
offended. In this trait they excel most of the other Polynesian tribes,
especially the Marquesans and the New Zealanders.

They are naturally generous and hospitable. Of old, they welcomed
the weary and hungry traveler to their huts, sheltered and fed him
to the best of their ability, and without charge. And this generous
hospitality was extended to all without respect to nationality, color,
wealth, or rank. Wherever night fell upon the traveler, he found
shelter and welcome in the nearest cabin. I speak of them as they were.
Our civilization has greatly, if not happily, modified their natural
habits in this respect.

[Sidenote: _Some Hawaiian Traits._]

They are docile. Few, if any, of the races of men would believe with
such simple faith, or, if I may so call it, credulity. This trait,
though it exposes them to deceitful wiles, also disposes them to listen
to correct and useful teachings. Until wicked and infidel foreigners
came among them, a Hawaiian could hardly be found who would deny the
existence and character of the true God, or the truth of the Bible
revelation. But they are too ready to receive false teachings as well
as true, to be beguiled by fallacious arguments, and attracted by false
leaders. This is why so many accept the old or the modern error.

As a rule they are patient under sufferings, losses, and poverty.
Sometimes we look upon them as stolid and without brain or heart. I
have seen many lingering and wasting away under a painful disease, and
die with little or no emotion or regret. It would seem as if their
indifference to life were a reason why they succumb so easily to
disease.

They are superstitious, of course. What savage or barbarous race is
not? And we might be amazed, were the facts published, at the amount
of foolish and false signs, relics of heathenish superstitions, which
still exist among enlightened nations. Many natives believe in ghosts,
incantations, demons, and the power to take the life of one’s enemy
by prayer (_pule anaana_); but I think that these superstitions are
yielding faster than in most other countries.

They are naturally indolent. This has been fostered into a national
trait by circumstances. A warm climate does not require energy in
labor. A perpetual summer gives no occasion to lay up stores for a
fruitless winter. A native’s wants are few. These satisfied, why labor?
To him it would be like beating the air or felling the forest without
motive. When a want is felt, he will work for it as earnestly as other
men. Civilization has increased their wants, and their houses and
horses and clothing, their boats and carriages and money have come of
labor.

But they lack economy. This is true, personally, socially, and
politically. They lack the gift of order and frugality; and this
applies to time, to talent, to industry, and to the use of property of
every kind. As a rule, they know not how to “gather up the fragments,
that nothing be lost.” It is now easy for natives to get money; even
the children, if they will work, can earn from twenty-five cents to
fifty cents a day, while the wages of laboring men are from one dollar
to three dollars a day, according to their skill and fidelity; but few
of them know how to keep or use money wisely. And so it is of houses,
furniture, tools, clothing, horses, lands, etc. Such things are lost or
ruined by neglect, or slip out of their hands to pay unwise debts. They
gather and scatter; few accumulate for permanent use. We teach them
industry, economy, frugality, and generosity; but their progress in
these virtues is slow. They are like children, needing wise parents or
guardians.

[Sidenote: _Hawaiian Changeableness._]

They are changeable, or, it may be said, fickle. They love variety;
they often take new names. In cases where divorce is pending, the
lawyer sometimes sends to the pastor who married the couple for a
certificate of marriage, that given at the time of the ceremony having
been lost, and perhaps the long search for their names in the marriage
records is all in vain, when, at last, it is ascertained that they are
now known by different names. Some build comfortable houses at the
cost of all they have, and in a little while leave them desolate, and
remove to other districts or islands. To seek after and to find them
in their frequent removals is often like searching for lost sheep upon
the mountains. Some take letters of dismission to another church, and
return without delivering them. Some go without letters, not intending
to stay away, but never return; and when the name is changed, as well
as the place of residence, it adds a heavy burden to the pastor’s care
in looking after his church members. About five hundred of the members
of the Hilo church are now absent in different places.

They are amorous. Climate, lack of education, want of full employment
of mind and body on matters of superior importance, and the seductions
of vile men from foreign lands, endanger the morality, the piety, and
the life of this infant race. With the examples of the rich, and of
men of office and rank, the temptations of gold acting upon yielding
natures, how can a pure morality and virtue be preserved among a people
like the Hawaiians? Some of our laws are so framed by unprincipled men
as to offer a premium to licentiousness, and even wholesome laws are so
nearly a dead-letter for want of execution, that the villain is oftener
protected in sin than punished. What can be done when vice is bold and
shameless, and only virtue blushes?

They are followers, not leaders. Few, if any, of them are able to
head any important secular enterprise. In agriculture, commerce, the
mechanic arts, education, traffic, and in all things which require
clear thought, sound judgment, tact, patience, and a deep sense of
responsibility, they are deficient. Hence they are mostly servants or
subordinates. The Chinaman goes ahead of them in all business matters.
If a Hawaiian holds office, the office is a sinecure, and its duties
are usually committed to foreign clerks.

[Sidenote: _Faults of the Native Character._]

Naturally they are untruthful. They go astray as soon as they are born,
speaking lies. This is a severe charge, but it is a trait probably in
all savage races. To lie under slight provocation is to a native as
natural and as easy as to breathe. The fact is patent, and it is one
of the traits in the Hawaiian character which costs us the greatest
pain, and the most earnest and persistent labor, to eradicate. The sin
seems like an instinct; but by “eternal vigilance” it gradually gives
way, and is succeeded by better habits. The Hawaiian begins to build a
house which should be done in two weeks, and it may not be completed
in six or twelve months; it will then be years before it is supplied
with doorsteps. The servant tells you the flour or the potatoes are
all gone, and you find several pounds remaining. Or he pronounces the
work assigned him as “all done,” when it is only two-thirds done. One
informs you that all the people in a given village are drunk. You make
farther inquiries and find only two out of fifty who have fallen. The
washerwoman must have the same wages when she washes for the family
that is reduced to half its numbers, as when it was full. Their
character is not rounded and fully developed in anything. The Hawaiian
is an unfinished man.

Their piety is of course imperfect. Their easy and susceptible natures,
their impulsive and fickle traits, need great care and faithful
watching. But we have seen many cases that have become steadfast in
faith and fidelity--broken out of the “Rock” by the hammer, and formed
into symmetry and beauty by the chisel of the Almighty. I believe
that thousands have been converted, and that many thousands are in
heaven. And if bad men would let the Hawaiians alone for one or two
generations, the land would be filled with an enlightened and godly
nation.

What is the cause of the decrease in the population? This is an old
question, and its answers have been various, sometimes vague, and
seldom satisfactory. This is not surprising, as some of the causes are
occult and complex. Tradition informs us that long before the arrival
of the missionaries, a pestilence like a plague swept off multitudes.
Foreigners introduced a vile disease, of which many died, and the blood
of many was poisoned. Inherited diseases weakened many others. The
too rapid change of national habits especially produced barrenness.
Unguarded and early habits of children were highly injurious. There
were many Magdalens who came to the Saviour after the introduction of
the Gospel, and were made whole in spirit, and prepared for a higher
and purer life, while their bodies were deeply marked with the scars
of sin. But to this day the artful wiles of a certain class of foreign
visitors and residents have not ceased to ensnare and ruin many.

Ignorance of the laws of physical life was universal among the natives,
and the missionaries have labored hard and continuously from the
beginning to enlighten the people on this subject. In my ministry
among the thousands of Hilo and Puna, I have witnessed not only scores
who have died in early life from the effects of bad habits, but also
hundreds whose days have been shortened from sheer ignorance of
physiological law.

[Sidenote: _The Decay of the Population._]

It may be surprising to some to be told, that the sudden and great
changes brought on by civilization check the population. The changes
in dress, in food, in dwellings, and in the occupations of life, often
bring on consumption, fevers, and other diseases which almost decimate
a community. Natives that once lived almost as nude as the brutes, and
were yet hardy, because adapted to their surroundings, often succumb to
new habits of life. Instead of wearing the _maro_ and the loose bark
tapa, they often put on two pairs of pantaloons over a thick woolen
shirt, with tight boots, and a thick coat or heavy overall, and thus
appear in church or in a public gathering, panting with heat and wet
with perspiration. On returning to their homes they doff all but a
shirt or maro, and sit or lie down and fall asleep in the coolest place
to be found, rising with a cold and a cough which may end in disease
and the grave. Even the civilized houses of some prove charnel houses,
for instead of ventilating them wisely, they often close every door and
window of a small and close room, lie down, cover their head with a
woolen blanket, and thus sleep all night, the air growing more and more
impure.

In 1848 a fearful epidemic of the measles carried off 10,000 of our
people, a tenth of the whole population. Five years later, the
small-pox took 3,000 more. These were days of darkness and sorrow.
The natives were strangers to these diseases; physicians were few,
and lived mostly in Honolulu. The natives had no remedies for these
burning plagues, no wise and faithful nurses, and no food suited to
their condition. Tormented with heat and thirst, they plunged by scores
and hundreds into the nearest water, salt or fresh, they could find,
and the eruption being suppressed, they died in a few hours. The scene
was awful. The Government did what it could in its inexperience, and
missionaries and all benevolent foreigners lent a helping hand to those
in distress around them. But the masses of the people were beyond their
reach; and the angel of death moved on by night and by day, amidst the
groans and dying agonies of households and villages. The fiery darts of
the destroyer flew thick over all the land, and there was no effective
shield to protect the multitudes from their poisoned barbs.

[Sidenote: _The Leprosy._]

And now, for many years, that persistent, unrelenting plague, the
leprosy, has been poisoning the blood and lowering the vitality of
thousands of our people. We have a humane government, a competent board
of health, and wholesome sanitary regulations, and yet the plague is
not stayed. Notwithstanding a crowded leper settlement on Molokai,
there are hundreds dying inch by inch, scattered all over the Islands,
some of them hiding from the public eye, some concealed by friends,
and some not yet pronounced upon by physicians. The leper question is
one of the gravest before the nation.

Thus the decrease of the Hawaiians goes on slowly, surely,
irresistibly. They are not an exceptional case; many other races
originally savage have melted away and disappeared before the
unrelenting march of civilization.

XVIII.

_Kilauea--Changes in the Crater--Attempt to Measure the Heat of
its Lavas--Phenomena in Times of Great Activity--Visitors in the
Domains of Pele._

The volcano of Kilauea is always in action. Its lake of lava and
brimstone rolls and surges from age to age.

Sometimes these fires are sluggish, and one might feel safe in pitching
his tent upon the floor of the crater. Again the ponderous masses of
hardened lava, in appearance like vast coal-beds, are broken up by the
surging floods below, and tossed hither and thither, while the great
bellows of Jehovah blows upon these hills and cones and ridges of
solidified rocks, and melts them down into seas and lakes and streams
of liquid fire.

As the great volcano is within the limits of my parish, and as my
missionary trail flanks it on three sides, I may have observed it a
hundred times; but never twice in the same state.

[Sidenote: _Varying Action in Kilauea._]

Its outer wall remains nearly the same from age to age, but all within
the vast cauldron undergoes changes. I have visited it when there
was but one small pool of fusion visible, and at another time I have
counted eighty fires in the bottom of the crater. Sometimes I have seen
what is called Halemaumau, or South Lake, enlarged to a circuit of
three miles, and raging as if filled with infernal demons, and again
domed over with a solid roof, excepting a single aperture of about
twenty feet in diameter at the apex, which served as a vent to the
steam and gases. On my next visit I would find this dome broken in, and
the great sea of fiery billows, of near a mile in diameter, rolling
below.

On one occasion, when there with a party of friends, we found the door
of entrance to the floor of the crater closed against us. A flood of
burning fusion, covering some fifty acres, had burst out at the lower
end of the path, shutting out all visitors, so that we spent the day
and night upon the upper rim of the abyss.

On another occasion I found the great South Lake filled to the brim,
and pouring out in two deep and broad canals at nearly opposite points
of the lake. The lava followed these crescent fissures of fifty or more
feet deep and wide until they came within half a mile of meeting under
the northern wall of the crater, thus nearly enclosing an area of about
two miles in length and a mile and a half in breadth.

A pyrometer, sent out by Professor J. D. Dana, was put into my hands
to measure the heat of melted lava. I had taken it with me twice to
the crater unsuccessfully, the fusion being too deep in the lake to be
reached. I had also sent it up by others, with instructions, hoping
to get it inserted; but failing, I went up again with my friend, Dr.
Lafon. We descended the crater and traveled south about two miles, when
a vast mound like a truncated cone rose before us. Not recognizing
this elevation, I said to my companion, “This is a new feature in the
crater; I have not seen it before. It is about where the lake used
to be; but let us pass over it, and we shall probably find the lake
on the other side.” With the instrument in hand, we began to ascend
the elevation on an angle of about twenty degrees. When half-way
up, there came over a splash of burning fusion, which fell near our
feet. Our hair was electrified, and we retreated in haste. Going to
a little distance, we mounted an extinct cone which overlooked the
eminence we had left, when, lo! to our amazement, it was the great
South Lake of fire, no longer, as often, one to two hundred feet
below us, but risen to a level of about twenty-five feet above the
surrounding plain, and contained by a circular dam of cooled lava some
three miles in circumference. The scene was awful. Over all that high
and extended surface the fiery billows were surging and dashing with
infernal seething and mutterings and hissings. The whole surface was
in ebullition, and now and then large blisters, many feet in length,
viscous films, of the consistency of glutinous matter, would rise in
gigantic bubbles created by the lifting gases, and then burst and
disappear.

[Sidenote: _The Lost Pyrometer._]

We were struck with amazement; and the question was, Shall we again
venture near that awful furnace? We could frequently see the lava
flood spilling over the rim like a boiling cauldron, and what if the
encircling dam should burst and pour its deluge of fiery ruin over
all the surrounding area! But unwilling to fail in our experiment we
came down from the cone, and carefully, and with eyes agaze, began to
ascend the wall; again and again we were driven back by the splashes of
red-hot lava. We persevered, and watching and dodging the spittings, I
was at last able to reach so near the top of the dam as to thrust the
pyrometer through the thin part of the upper rim, when out burst a gory
stream of lava, and we ran down to wait the time for withdrawing the
instrument. The shaft of the pyrometer was about four feet long, with a
socket into which I had firmly fastened a ten-foot pole. When at last
we grasped the pole and pulled, the strength of four strong arms could
not dislodge the pyrometer. We pulled and pulled until the pole was
wrenched from the socket. The instrument was fast beyond recovery, and
with keen regret we left it in the hardened lava.

We turned to retreat from the crater, and before we had reached the
upper rim, we looked back and saw that awful lake emptying itself at
two points, one of which appeared to be in the very place where we
had stood only half an hour before. The whole southern portion of the
crater was a sea of liquid fire, covering, as I estimated, about two
square miles, with a probable depth of three feet.

This circular dam which enclosed the elevated lava-lake was formed
gradually by successive overflowings upon the rim, depositing stratum
upon stratum, until the solidified layers had raised the dam some
twenty-five feet; when the lateral pressure became so great as to burst
the barrier and give vent to this terrific flood.

I have heard great avalanches of rocks fall from the outer walls
of the crater some eight hundred feet into the dread abyss below
with thundering uproar. At the distance of two miles I have heard
the soughing and sighing of the lava waves, and upon the surface of
that awful lake I have seen as it were gory forms leaping up with
shrieks, as if struggling to escape their doom, and again plunging and
disappearing beneath the burning billows. To stand upon the margin of
this lake of fire and brimstone, to listen to its infernal sounds,
the rolling, surging, tossing, dashing, and spouting of its furious
waves; to witness its restless throbbings, its gyrations, its fierce
ebullitions, its writhing, and its fearful throes as if in anguish,
and to feel the hot flushes of its sulphurous breath, is to give one
sensations which no human language can express.

[Sidenote: _The House of Pele._]

Sometimes an indurated film, two to four inches thick, will form over
all the central part of the lake, while its periphery is a circle of
boiling lava, spouting, leaping, and dancing as if in merry gambols.
All at once the scene changes, the central portion begins to swell and
rise into a grayish dome, until it bursts like a gigantic bubble, and
out rushes a sea of crimson fusion, which pours down to the surrounding
wall with an awful seething and roaring, striking this mural barrier
with fury, and with such force that its sanguinary jets are thrown back
like a repulsed charge upon a battle-field, or tossed into the air
fifty to a hundred feet high, to fall upon the upper rim of the pit in
a hail-storm of fire.

This makes the filamentous vitrifaction called “Pele’s hair.” The
sudden sundering of the fusion into thousands of particles, by the
force that thus ejects the igneous masses upward, and their separation
when in this fused state, spins out vitreous threads like spun glass.
These threads are light, and when taken up by brisk winds, are often
kept floating and gyrating in the atmosphere, until they come into a
calmer stratum of air; when they fall over the surrounding regions,
sometimes in masses in quiet and sheltered places. They are sometimes
carried a hundred miles, as is proved by their dropping on ships at
sea. This “hair” takes the color of the lava of which it is formed.
Some of it is a dark gray, some auburn, or it may be yellow, or red, or
of a brick color.

Another mode of action in this lake is to encrust nearly all the
surface with the hardened covering, while active boiling is kept up
at the margin on one side only. When this ebullition becomes intense,
the fusion rises on that side, while the other side is quiet. After
a little, this agitated lava will rise and fall over upon the crust,
pressing or breaking it down, and rolling in a fiery wave across the
lake, and thus covering its whole surface with an intense boiling and
surging, so fierce and so hot that the spectator withdraws from the
insufferable heat to a cooler and safer position.

To be struck with this heat in its intensity, is to be death-struck,
and to inhale a full draught of this sulphurous acid gas in its
strength would be to extinguish life. All visitors must keep on the
windward side of the lake and avoid all currents of hot steam and gases.

[Sidenote: _Visitors to Kilauea._]

Some visitors are too daring. Others are too timid. I have known
several gentlemen who have ventured into places of peril, and escaped
death as by a miracle; and I have known one at least so timid as
to turn back to Hilo as soon as he saw smoke and steam, and smelt
sulphur, though he was still more than a mile distant from the volcano.

And I have seen ladies tremble and almost faint on going down into the
crater while yet a full mile from any visible fire. One who was in
my charge was so terrified that no assurance of safety and no effort
to persuade could move her. She sat down upon a rock a mile from
Halemaumau, and would not move until we led her out of the crater.
Others, though transfixed and awe-struck at first, become so fearless
that they play with the pools and little rills of lava, dipping up
specimens of it to take away. In order to carry it conveniently, one
lady put a specimen which had hardened, but not yet cooled, into her
handkerchief, when, instead of remaining, it burnt through and fell at
her feet.

XIX.

_Eruptions from Mauna Loa--The Eruption of 1843--A Visit to
it--Danger on the Mountain--A Perilous Journey and a Narrow
Escape._

During the night of January 10, 1843, a brilliant light was seen near
the summit of Mauna Loa. In a short time a fiery stream was rushing
rapidly down the mountain in a northerly direction toward Mauna Kea.

On the 11th, vast columns of steam and smoke arose from the crater.
After a few days the orifice on the top of the mountain ceased to eject
its burning masses, and the action appeared more vivid upon the slope
of the mountain, until the lava reached the valley below, and struck
the foot-hills of Mauna Kea.

[Sidenote: _The Summit Eruption of 1843._]

The Rev. J. D. Paris and his family were our guests at the time, and,
our good wives consenting, we prepared to go up to the flow, which
shone with a strong glare in the valley between the mountains, and had
the appearance of turning toward Hilo. Neither of us had ascended Mauna
Loa before, and we started with great enthusiasm. Taking a guide and
men to carry our food and sleeping-cloaks, we followed the bed of a
mountain stream which empties into the bay of Hilo. The pathway was
rocky and full of cascades from ten to 150 feet in height; but the
water was low at this time, and by wading, leaping from rock to rock,
and crossing and recrossing the stream from ten to twenty times in a
mile, and taking advantage of parts of its margins which were dry, we
made good progress, sleeping two nights in the forests on its banks,
and coming out of the woods into an open, rolling country on the third
day. This is a region where thousands of wild cattle roam.

A little before night of this day, we came directly abreast of a stream
of liquid fire half a mile wide, and bending its course toward Hilo.
Passing along the front of this slowly-moving flood, we flanked another
of about the same width, flowing quietly to the west toward Waimea;
while far up on the side of the mountain we saw another stream moving
toward Kona. This higher stream was a lateral branch of the main trunk,
and this trunk was again divided at the base of Mauna Kea. As these
lower branches were pushing slowly along upon level ground, and as
the feeding flood had ceased to come down upon the surface from the
terminal vent, but flowed in a subterranean duct or ducts, most of the
flow was solidified above, and we could see the flowing lava only in a
belt of a few rods wide across the ends of the streams, and at several
points upon the side of the mountain.

Having satisfied ourselves with the day’s labors, we set about
preparing our camp for the night. Besides our guide and burden-bearers,
a number of natives had begged the privilege of going with us.
Selecting an old wooded crater, about two hundred yards from the lava
stream, and elevated some sixty feet above it, we prepared a booth of
shrubs and leaves, collected fuel, made a rousing fire, ate our supper,
made arrangements for the morrow, and lay down for the night.

But before our eyes were closed by sleep, a dense cloud settled down
upon us, covering all the wide uplands between Mauna Kea and Mauna
Loa. We were now at an elevation of about 8,000 feet above the ocean
level, and the air was cold. Soon the vivid lightning began to flash
from the clouds that covered us, instantly followed by crashing peals
of rattling thunder. We found that we were in a sea of electricity, and
that the full-charged clouds rested on the ground. It was a flash and
a crash simultaneously; the blaze and the roar were nearly coincident.
The very heavens seemed ablaze; the hills and trees dropping their veil
of darkness as if engaged in a fairy dance, while the thunder roared
and reverberated among the mountains.

[Sidenote: _A Tempest on Mauna Loa._]

I had never before seen a tempest of equal grandeur. But the danger was
imminent. The storm continued without intermission until near morning,
and a great rain fell. The sun rose, and the mountains on both sides
of us were crowned with glory. A heavy fall of pure snow covered their
summits. Looking down from our lofty watch-tower toward Hilo, we saw
the clouds that had blazed around us during the night rolled down
and massed along the shore, hiding the sea from our sight, the upper
surface shining with light, and alive with dancing and quivering rays.
We could also see the flashes of lightning dart among the clouds,
followed in measured time by the booming thunder. The scene was of
equal grandeur with that of the past night, but without its danger. We
were in bright sunshine, thousands of feet above the clouds, while the
coast and bay of Hilo were shrouded; and, for the first time in years,
a great storm of hail fell upon the northern part of the district.

But to the hills! to the hills! was the summons of the morning. Onward
and upward was our motto. We each selected a man who volunteered to go
with us to the summit. From our point of view we could trace the stream
in all its windings from its source to its fiery terminus before us.
The surface was all hardened except the fused belt of some 200 feet
wide at the lower end of the flow, pushing slowly out from under its
indurated cover. Above this the whole flow was a shining _pahoehoe_,
or field lava, steaming in light puffs from a thousand cracks and holes.

We set out at sunrise with our two native guides, carrying a little
food, a small supply of water in a gourd, and our camp-cloaks. We
flanked the fresh lava stream some part of the way; crossed it
occasionally, and walked directly upon it for many miles, making as
straight a course as possible. Much of the way we were obliged to walk
over fields and ridges, and down into gorges of _aa_, or clinker lava,
as sharp and jagged as slag around an iron furnace.

The work was so severe that our men fell behind, and we were forced
to halt often and encourage them to hasten up. At length, weary of
this lingering pace, we hurried on, leaving them to follow as well as
they could, but before noon we lost sight of them, and saw them no
more until our return to camp. Taking with them all our supplies, they
had turned back to enjoy rest and shelter with their companions who
remained behind.

We passed over hills and through valleys; saw steaming cones and heard
their hissings. We came to openings through the crust of twenty to
fifty feet in diameter, out of which issued scalding gases, and in
looking down these steaming vents, we saw the stream of incandescent
lava rushing along a vitrified duct with awful speed, some fifty
feet below us. Still pressing up the mountain, we saw through other
openings this rushing stream as it hurried down its covered channel to
spread itself out on the plains below. We threw large stones into these
openings, and saw them strike the lava river, on whose burning bosom
they passed out of sight instantly, before sinking into the flood. Far
off to the right we heard the crashing and roaring of the lava-roof as
it fell into the channel below made by the draining of the stream.

[Sidenote: _A Perilous Victory._]

Noon passed, and the summit was not reached. “Hills peeped o’er hills,”
and we were weary. We came to the snow. One, two, and three +P.M.+
made us anxious. We counted the hours, half hours, and minutes, while
we plodded some five miles in the snow. We had no food, no wrappers
for the night, and no shelter. Our condition was now not only one of
suffering, but one of peril. Our strength began to fail. But to fail
of the object before us when just within our grasp! Could we bear the
disappointment?

We fixed 3:30 +P.M.+ as the latest moment before we must turn our faces
down the mountain. To remain later where we were was death. At the last
moment we came to the yawning fissures where the crimson flood had
first poured out. The rents were terribly jagged, showing the fearful
rage of the fires as they burst forth from their caverns into the
midnight darkness.

We had seen the object of our quest, and now life depended on our
speedy return.

Full twenty-five miles of rugged lava, without guide or trail, lay
before us. We had tasted no food nor a drop of water since daylight.

We knelt a moment, and “looked to the hills whence cometh help,” and
then began the descent. We ran, we stumbled and fell; we rose and ran
again amidst scoria and rocks, up and down, until at sunset we reached
the point where we had stood at noon. Far off among the foot-hills of
Mauna Kea, in the north, we could descry the green cone where our camp
was pitched.

Night came on apace. The moon was a little past her first quarter, and
her mild light never appeared so precious to us as now. Down, down, we
ran, falling amidst the scoriaceous masses, scaling ridges and plunging
into rugged ravines, tearing our shoes and garments, and drawing blood
from our hands, faces, and feet. Once in about a mile we allowed
ourselves a few seconds only to rest. To sit down fifteen minutes would
stiffen us with cold, and to fall asleep in our exhausted condition
would be to wake no more on earth.

[Sidenote: _Retreating for Life._]

As we grew weaker and weaker, our falls were more frequent, until we
could hardly rise or lift a foot from the ground. More than once, when
one of us fell, he would say to his companion, “I can not rise again,
but must give up.” The other would reply, “Brother, you _must_ get
up,” and extending his weary hand, and with encouraging voice he would
aid the fallen one to rise. Thus we alternated in falling and rising;
while our progress became slower and slower. When about half-way down
the descent, we saw clouds rolling up from the sea, and our anxiety was
intense lest such a storm as we had felt the preceding night should
fall upon us. The clouds covered the moon and stars, and darkened all
the volcanic lights of those breathing-holes, which by night shone like
lamps on a hill-side. Our camp-hill, and the flood of lava near it,
were covered with the cloud, and “darkness which was felt” came over
us. It now seemed as if all was over. But thanks to God the veil was
removed, the stars reappeared, and we ceased to wander as we had done
under the shadow of the cloud. We had left the snow and the colder
heights far behind, and now we felt that we were saved. When within
half a mile of camp our natives heard our call, and two came out with
torches to meet us. We came in like wounded soldiers who had been
battling above the clouds, limping and bleeding. We threw ourselves
prostrate upon the ground, and called for water and food, and did not
rise until near noon of the next day.

Our providential escape filled us with too much gratitude to allow us
to chide severely the guides who had deserted us, and whom we found
with the rest of the party, full-fed and happy.

This expedition taught us useful lessons. One of them was never to
attempt another enterprise of this kind without completer arrangements
for its success. We learned practically the truth, that “Two are better
than one, for if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow, but woe to
him who is alone when he falleth.”

When about to leave our mountain camp, our chief guide, a wild-bird
catcher and bullock hunter of the highlands, came to me with a sober
and thoughtful countenance, and after a little hesitation said: “Mr.
Coan, we have guided you up the mountain for so much, and now how much
will you give us to guide you back?” Looking him square in the face, I
replied, “You need not go down, you can stay up here if you like.” The
fellow was dumfounded and stood speechless. His companions, who had
gathered around him hoping to share in the double price for services,
burst out into a laugh, and called him an ass. He submitted, took up
his burden, and gave me no more trouble. But all the way down his
comrades kept up the joke until he accepted the title and said: “Yes, I
am a jackass.”

We reached home after three days of hobbling on lame feet, but thankful
to Him who guides the wanderer.

XX.

_Eruptions of Mauna Loa--The Eruption, of 1852--The
Fire-Fountain--A Visit to it--Alone on the Mountain--Sights on
Mauna Loa._

My account of the eruption of Mauna Loa in February, 1852, was
originally published in _The American Journal of Science and Arts_
(September, 1852). It is here reproduced with slight corrections from
later observations. I visited the locality three times; first while the
lava fountain was playing a thousand feet high, and twice since the
crater had cooled.

It was a little before daybreak on the 17th of February, 1852, that we
saw through our window a beacon light resting on the apex of Mauna Loa.
At first we supposed it to be a planet just setting. In a few minutes
we were undeceived by the increasing brilliancy of the light, and by a
grand outburst of a fiery column which shot high into the air, sending
down a wonderful sheen of light, which illuminated our fields and
flashed through our windows. Immediately a burning river came rushing
down the side of the mountain at the apparent rate of fifteen to twenty
miles an hour. This summit eruption was vivid and vigorous for forty
hours, and I was preparing to visit the scene, when all at once the
valves closed, and all signs of the eruption disappeared; accordingly I
ceased my preparations to ascend the mountain.

On the 20th, the eruption broke out laterally, about 4,000 feet below
the summit, and at a point facing Hilo; from this aperture a brilliant
column of fire shot up to a height of 700 feet, by angular measurement,
with a diameter of from 100 to 300 feet. This lava fountain was
sustained without intermission for twenty days and nights, during which
time it built up a crater one mile in circumference, lacking one chain,
and 400 feet high. It also sent down a river of liquid fire more than
forty miles long, which came within ten miles of Hilo.

The roar of this great furnace was heard along the shores of Hilo, and
the earth quivered with its rage, while all the district was so lighted
up that we could see to read at any hour of the night when the sky was
not clouded. The smoke and steam rose in a vast column like a pillar of
cloud by day, and at night it was illuminated with glowing brilliants,
raising the pillar of fire thousands of feet in appearance. When it
reached a stratum of atmosphere of its own specific gravity, it moved
off like the tail of a comet, or spread out laterally, a vast canopy
of illuminated gases. The winds from the mountain brought down smoke,
cinders, “Pele’s hair,” and gases, scattering the light products over
houses and gardens, streets and fields, or bearing them far out to sea,
dropped them upon the decks of vessels approaching our coast.

[Sidenote: _Through the Wilderness._]

The light of the eruption was seen more than one hundred miles at sea,
and sailors told us that when they first saw the light flaming on the
mountain they exclaimed, “Look there, the moon is rising in the west!”
Much of the time our atmosphere was murky, and the veiled sun looked as
if in an eclipse.

On Monday, the 23d of February, Dr. Wetmore and myself, taking with
us four natives as assistants, set out for the mountain. One of
these natives was familiar with the woods and wilds, having been a
bird-catcher, a canoe-digger, and a wild-cattle hunter in those high
regions. His name was Kekai, “Salt Sea.”

We passed our first night in the skirt of the forest, having taken with
us long knives, an old sword, clubs, and hatchets, purposing to cut
and beat our way through the jungle in as straight a line as possible
toward the fiery pillar. On Tuesday we rose fresh and earnest, and
pressed through the ferns and vines, and through the tangled thicket,
and over, under, and around gigantic trees, which lay thick in some
places, cutting and beating as we went, our progress being sometimes
half a mile, sometimes one, and again two miles an hour. At night
we bivouacked in the ancient forest, hearing the distant roar of the
volcano and seeing the glare of the igneous river, which had already
passed us, cutting its way through the wood a few miles distant on our
left.

On Wednesday Dr. Wetmore decided to return to Hilo, apprehensive that
the stream might reach the sea before we could return from the crater,
and that our families might need his presence. Taking one of the men,
he hastened back to the village, while I pressed on.

Sleeping once more in the forest, we emerged on Thursday upon the high,
open lava fields, but plunged into a dense fog darker and more dreary
than the thicket itself. We were admonished not to journey far, as more
than one man had been lost in these bewildering fogs, and wandering
farther and farther from the way had left his bones to bleach in the
desert; we therefore encamped for the fourth time. A little before
sunset the fog rolled off, and Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa both stood out
in grand relief; the former robed in a fleecy mantle almost to its
base, and the latter belching out floods of fire. All night long we
could see the glowing fires and listen to the awful roar twenty miles
away.

We left our mountain eyrie on the 27th, determined, if possible, to
reach the seat of action that day. The scoriaceous hills and ridges,
the plains and gorges bristled with the sharp and jagged _aa_, and our
ascent was rough and difficult. We mounted ridges where the pillar of
fire shone strongly upon us, and we plunged down deep dells and steep
ravines where our horizon was only a few feet distant, the attraction
increasing as the square of the distance decreased.

[Sidenote: _Alone with the Lava Fountain._]

At noon we came upon the confines of a tract of naked scoriæ so
intolerably sharp and jagged that our baggage-men could not pass it.
Here I ordered a halt; stationed the two carriers, gave an extra pair
of strong shoes to the guide, gave him my wrapper and blanket, put a
few crackers and boiled eggs into my pocket, took my compass and staff,
and said to Mr. Salt Sea, “Now go ahead, and let us warm ourselves
to-night by that fire yonder.” But I soon found that my guide needed a
leader; he lagged behind, and I waited for him to come up, but fearing
we should not reach the point before night I pressed forward alone,
with an interest that mocked all obstacles.

At half-past three +P.M.+ I reached the awful crater, and stood alone
in the light of its fires. It was a moment of unutterable interest. I
was 10,000 feet above the sea, in a vast solitude untrodden by the foot
of man or beast, amidst a silence unbroken by any living voice. The
Eternal God alone spoke. His presence was attested as in the “devouring
fire on the top of Sinai.” I was blinded by the insufferable
brightness, almost petrified by the sublimity of the scene.

The heat was so intense that I could not approach the pillar within
forty or fifty yards, even on the windward side, and in the snowy
breezes coming down from the mountain near four thousand feet above. On
the leeward side the steam, the hot cinders, ashes, and burning pumice
forbade approach within a mile or more.

I stood amazed before this roaring furnace. I felt the flashing heat
and the jar of the earth; I heard the subterranean thunders, and the
poetry of the sacred Word came into my thoughts: “He looketh on the
earth, and it trembleth; He toucheth the hills, and they smoke; the
mountains quake at Him, and the hills melt; He uttered His voice, the
earth melted; the hills melted like wax at the presence of the Lord.”

Here indeed the hills smoked and the earth melted, and I saw its
gushings from the awful throat of the crater burning with intense white
heat. I saw the vast column of melted rocks mounting higher and still
higher, while dazzling volleys and coruscations shot out like flaming
meteors in every direction, exploding all the way up the ascending
column of 1,000 feet with the sharp rattle of infantry fire in battle.
There were unutterable sounds as the fierce fountain sent up the
seething fusion to its utmost height; it came down in parabolic curves,
crashing like a storm of fiery hail in conflict with the continuous
ascending volume, a thousand tons of the descending mass falling back
into the burning throat of the crater, where another thousand were
struggling for vent.

[Sidenote: _An Anxious Moment._]

For an hour I stood entranced; then there came to me the startling
thought that I was _alone_. Where was my companion? I looked down
the mountain, but there was no motion and no voice. The vast fields
and valleys of dreary scoria lay slumbering before me; the sun was
about to disappear behind the lofty snow-robed mountain in the rear.
What if my guide had gone back! Remembering my former experience in
1843, only about five miles from this place, I could not be otherwise
than anxious. Minutes seemed as hours while I watched for his coming,
when lo! there is motion upon the rough _aa_ about a mile below me: a
straw hat peers up on a ridge and again disappears in a gorge, like a
boat in the trough of the sea. Then at length “Salt Sea” stood forth
a life-sized figure in full view. Weary but faithful he was toiling
upward. If ever my heart leaped for joy, it was then. As he came
within speaking distance, he raised both his hands high above his head
and shouted: “Kupaianaha! kupaianaha i keia hana mana a ke Akua mana
loa!”--Wonderful, wonderful is this mighty work of Almighty God.

Could I help embracing the old man and praising the Lord?

We chose our station for the night within about two hundred feet of
the crater and watched its pyrotechnics, and heard its mutterings,
its detonations, and its crashing thunder until morning. Occasionally
our eyelids became heavy, but before we were fairly asleep some new
and rousing demonstration would bring us to our feet and excite
the most intense interest. In addition to the marvelous sounds,
the kaleidoscopic views of the playing column were so rapid and so
brilliant that we could hardly turn our eyes for a moment from it. The
fusion when issuing from the mouth of the crater was white-hot, but
as it rose through the air its tints underwent continuous changes: it
became a light red, then a deeper shade, then a glossy gray, and in
patches a shining black, but these tints and shades with many others
were intermingled, and as every particle was in motion the picture
was splendid beyond the power of description. Thousands and millions
of tons of sparkling lava were pouring from the rim of the crater,
while the cone was rising rapidly, and spreading out at the base. From
the lower side of this cone a large fissure opened, through which the
molten flood was issuing and rushing down the mountain, burning its
way through the forest. No tongue, no pen, no pencil can portray the
beauty, the grandeur, the terrible sublimity of the scenes of this
memorable night.

[Sidenote: _A Wild Bull’s Challenge._]

Morning came, we offered our prayers, ate our breakfast, and descended
the mountain with regrets. Rejoining the men whom we had left the
preceding day, we retraced our steps to Hilo, and reached home
in health and safety, though not without an experience it may be
interesting to relate. In the upper skirts of the forest in a narrow
pass we were confronted by a magnificent wild bull. Coming suddenly
upon a small herd in this defile, the cows and smaller cattle fled
and were soon out of sight; not so the bull; he wheeled and faced us
boldly, covering the retreat of the cows and calves, and bidding us
defiance. As he stood with head proudly erect, we estimated the tips of
his splendid horns to be eight feet from the ground.

We were challenged by this mountain sentinel to stand, and stand we
did. We were unwilling to retreat; to deploy to the right or left
seemed impossible. We held a council, feeling that “discretion was the
better part of valor.” The bull was armed with ugly horns; we were
unarmed. He stood and we stood. Our guide, an old mountaineer, advised
us to arm ourselves with stones, and directed that when he hurled his
missile and shouted, we should do the same. We all hurled and yelled at
once. The proud monarch snorted, shook his head, turned slowly on his
heels, retreated a few paces, and then suddenly wheeled right-about
and again held the passage. We hurled another volley and shouted. The
Bashan bull wheeled slowly round, walked about a rod, and a second time
turned and faced us, bidding defiance. We feared a charge, but as we
had pushed our Goliath back some feet, we let go a third volley, and
this decided the conflict. He turned, but he neither ran nor trotted;
he maintained his dignity and retreated deliberately, while we waited
for his highness to disappear, without attempting to disarm him or make
him a prisoner. It was a compromise which we accepted thankfully. We
breathed easier and moved on with lighter steps.

This splendid eruption of 1852 was in blast only twenty days.

XXI.

_The Eruption of 1855--A Climb to the Source--Mountain
Hardships--Visits to Lower Parts of the Lava Stream--Hilo
threatened with Destruction--Liquidity of the Hawaiian Lavas--Are
the Lava-Streams fed from their Sources only?_

The great eruption of 1855-’56 continued fifteen months and the
disgorgement of lava exceeded by millions of tons that of any other
eruption we have seen.

It was first observed on the evening of the 11th of August, 1855,
shining like Sirius at a small point near the summit of Mauna Loa. This
radiant point expanded rapidly, and in a short time the glow was like
that of the rising sun. Soon a deluge of liquid fire rushed down the
mountain-side in the direction of our town.

Day after day, and night after night, we could trace this stream until
it entered the deep forest, when the scene by day would often be made
beautiful by the vast clouds of white vapor rolling up in wreaths from
the boiling streams and water-basins below. In the night-time the
spectacle was one of unrivaled sublimity. The broad and deep river of
lava, moving resistlessly on through the festooned forest trees, would
first scorch the low plants and fallen timber of the jungle, until they
took fire, when suddenly a roaring flame would burst forth, covering
perhaps a square mile, and rushing up the hanging vines to the tree
tops, leaping in lambent flashes from tree to tree, would make the
light so gorgeous that for the time being night was turned into day.

These brilliant scenes were long continued, and all Hilo watched the
progress of the stream with increasing interest.

[Sidenote: _The Eruption of 1855._]

On the 2d of October, in company with a friend and several natives,
I set off to visit this approaching torrent of lava. As the jungle
through which it was burning its pathway was too dense to be
penetrated, we chose for our track the bed of the Wailuku river, the
channel in which Mr. Paris and I went up to the eruption of 1843. We
slept three nights in the great forest on the banks of the river, and
the fourth night in a cave on the outskirts of the forest. Early in the
morning of October 6th we emerged and came to the margin of the lava
stream in the open plain. We had flanked it at the distance of some
two miles on our left, and its terminus was about ten miles below us
on its way to Hilo. Where we first struck it, we estimated the breadth
to be about three miles, but twice that width in places where the
country was level, and where it could easily expand. The surface was
solidified, and so nearly cool that we took it for our highway. And
highway indeed it was, for it was raised in some places twenty, fifty,
and a hundred feet above the old floor on which it came down. In some
places the walking was comfortable, and in others all was confusion
thrice confounded. Ridges, cones, bluffs, hills, crevasses, _aa_,
swirls, twistings, precipices, and all shapes congealed, were there.
No fire yet. Little puffs of white steam were coming up from unknown
depths below. Far down the mountain terrible fires were gleaming,
cutting down a mighty forest and licking up rivers of water. High above
us raged a glowing furnace, and under our very feet a burning flood
was rushing with an unknown commission, perhaps to consume all Hilo,
to choke our beautiful harbor, to drive out our people, and leave this
gem of the Pacific a heap of ruin. Thoughts of what might be could
not be silenced; like ghosts from the buried cities of Pompeii and
Herculaneum, they haunted our path.

Onward we went; the ascent grew steeper. We were startled; a yawning
fissure was before us--hot, sulphurous gases were rushing up--the
sullen swash of liquid lava was heard. We took the windward side of the
opening, approached carefully, and with awe we saw the swift river of
fire some fifty feet below us, rushing at white heat, and with such
fearful speed that we stood amazed. The great tunnel in which this
fiery flow swept down was a vitrified duct apparently as smooth as
glass, and the speed, though it could not be measured, I estimated to
be forty miles an hour. Leaving this opening, we pressed forward, and
once in about one or two miles we found other rents from thirty to two
hundred feet in length, down which we looked, and saw the lava-torrent
hurrying toward the sea.

These openings in the mountain were vents, or breathing holes for the
discharge of the burning gases, and thus perhaps prevented earthquakes
and terrific explosions. They were longitudinal, revealing the fiery
channel at the depth of fifty to a hundred feet below, and exposing a
sight to appall the stoutest heart. To fall into one of these orifices
would be instant death. From 10 +A.M.+ we were walking in the midst of
steam and smoke and heat which were almost stifling. Valve after valve
opened as we ascended, out of which issued fire, smoke, and brimstone,
and to avoid suffocation, we were obliged to keep on the windward side,
watching every change of the wind. Sometimes hot whirlwinds would sweep
along loaded with deadly gases, and threatening the unwary traveler.

[Sidenote: _The Covered Lava-Current._]

In one place we saw the burning river uncovered for nearly 500 feet,
and dashing down a declivity of about twenty degrees, leaping
precipices in a mad rage which was indescribable. Standing at the lower
end of this opening we could look up, not only along the line of fire,
but also thirty feet or more into the mouth of the tunnel out of which
it issued, and see the fiery cataract leaping over a cliff some fifteen
feet high, with a sullen roar which was terrific, while the arched
roof of this tunnel, some forty feet above the stream, and the walls
on each side of the open space were hung with glowing stalactites,
tinged with fiery sulphates and festooned with immense quantities of
filamentous glass. At the upper end of this opening we cast in stones
of considerable size, and when they struck the surface of the rushing
current, they were swept from our sight with a speed that blurred their
form, and with a force that was amazing.

Amidst clouds of steam and the smell of gases, jagged fissures opening
all along the track and wonders of force arresting our attention, we
still ascended, until at 1 +P.M.+, October 6th, we reached the terminal
crater. This was Saturday and the fifth day of our journey, and we were
a little weary, but we set ourselves at once to examine this point
where the first red light of August 11th had been seen, and whence the
amazing flood of melted minerals had been poured out to startle all
eastern Hawaii. From this summit elevation, for six miles down the side
of the mountain we found a series of crevasses of a similar character,
but no rounded or well-defined crater. This upper cleft was wide, some
500 feet long, and indescribably jagged. It had vomited out floods of
lava which now lay in bristling heaps forming a scoriaceous wall 100
feet high on each side of the opening. These walls were so rough, so
steep, and in such a shattered state, that it was very difficult to
surmount them, but by care and effort we gained the giddy crest of
the one on the windward side and gazed down into the Plutonic throat
of the mountain. No fire could be seen. Blue and white steam with the
smell of sulphur came curling up from unknown depths below, while the
fearful throat that had so lately belched out such floods of fiery ruin
was nearly choked with its own _débris_. The action had ceased; the
fountain, no longer able to throw out its burning stream from this high
orifice, had subsided, probably a thousand feet, and found vent at the
lower point where we had seen the flow in our ascent.

We were now more than 12,000 feet above our home, and sitting on the
lip of this mountain mortar, we could meditate on its recent thunder,
and seem to see the belching of its fire and smoke and brimstone, while
its stony hail lay heaped around us. What a battle-field of infinite
forces in these realms of thunder and lightning, of stormy winds and
hail and snow, of rending earthquakes and devouring fires!

[Sidenote: _Sunday on the Lava._]

The source of this eruption is about midway between those of 1843
and 1852, and these three igneous rivers ran in parallel lines about
five miles apart. This eruption was also only a few miles north of
Mokuaweoweo, the great summit crater, whose deep cauldron has so
often boiled with intense heat, and whose brilliant fires have thrown
a sheen of glory over the firmament and lighted all eastern Hawaii.
Mokuaweoweo is probably the great chimney or shaft which reaches the
abyss of liquid lava below, and which furnishes the materials for all
the lateral outbursts of Mauna Loa, except for those of Kilauea, which
are independent eruptions.

It was evening before our explorations of the surrounding scenery
closed, and the next day was Sunday. Unfortunately our guides had
failed to supply our gourds with water. We had passed pool after pool,
and had charged our natives to be sure and fill the gourds in time, but
they as often answered that there was plenty of water further on. In
this they were mistaken, and we reached our destination with only one
quart of water for four persons. But we agreed to spend the Lord’s day
and offer our sacrifices of prayer and praise on this high altar.

It was cold and dreary, and our bed was hard and rough lava, but
raising a low wall of lava blocks, as protection against the piercing
night winds, we endured cold and thirst until Monday morning, having
no fuel--we were above vegetation--and only one-half-pint of water
each from Saturday until the afternoon of Monday.

In itself we would not have deemed it wrong to go down the mountain on
the Sabbath, but as our natives are slow to discriminate and reason on
points of religion, and as multitudes in all parts of the islands would
be sure to hear that the teacher who had so often dissuaded them from
unnecessary labor on the Lord’s day had himself been traveling on that
day, it was prudent to give them no occasion to stumble on this point.
I have never regretted the self-denial.

October 8th we marched rapidly down to find water. On our way we passed
the famous cone of one mile in circumference formed in 1852, and around
the base of this cone we found patches of white frost. So painful was
our thirst that we lay down and lapped the frozen vapor. A little
before noon we came to a spring of pure, cold water, and here we sat
and drank abundantly. At evening we reached Kilauea, a distance of
thirty-five miles from our morning position. Here we rested, explored,
etc., and on Thursday we reached Hilo, well rewarded for the journey.
It was all the way on foot, the whole distance being over 100 miles.

[Sidenote: _Second Visit to the Lava-Stream._]

On our return we found all Hilo in a state of anxious suspense, and
eager to hear what we had seen and what were the probabilities that
the eruption would reach the town. The light of the blazing forest
was evidently drawing nearer and nearer daily, but no one had as yet
penetrated the dense thicket of ferns and bramble and of tangled vines
and fallen trees. A few native bird-hunters had gone up some distance
into the forest, and climbed lofty trees to prospect, and had reported
the locality of the lower end of the stream. I resolved to pierce the
jungle if possible, and on the 22d set off early in the morning with
an English gentleman who had offered to accompany me, and with one of
the natives who had seen the fire from the tree-top. Upon entering the
woods we soon took the channel of a watercourse south of the Wailuku,
and wading, leaping from rock to rock, and crossing and recrossing a
hundred times to work our way along the margin, we advanced at the rate
of about two miles an hour.

Early in the day a cold and dreary rain set in, and continued all
that day and night. What with wading and the falling rain, we were
thoroughly soaked. But action kept up our warmth, and we pressed
on that we might reach the fire before dark. Several times in the
afternoon our faithful guide climbed trees in order to descry the
fire, and to determine its course and distance. The day declined, and
we began to fear that we should be left to spend a dark and cheerless
night in the forest without light or fire. At length, however, there
was a welcome shout from the last tree climbed: “I see the fire! it
is on our right, two miles distant.” We turned at right angles to our
previous course, left the water-channel, and began to cut and beat
our way through the thicket under a fresh inspiration. At a little
before sundown we reached the lava river, two miles, perhaps, above its
terminus. When within a few rods of it, and we saw its glaring light
flashing upon us through the jungle, my companion, who had never seen
such a sight, was startled, and inquired earnestly if we were not in
danger, and if the forest would not soon all be on fire and consume us.

The place where we stood commanded a scene of surpassing interest. We
estimated the flow to be two miles wide, and our view of it to extend
about ten miles, giving it some twenty square miles of area. Perhaps
three-fourths of the surface was solidified, but hundreds or thousands
of pools, and active fountains and streams of lava boiled and glittered
and spouted, presenting a scene of marvelous brilliancy and beauty.

The margin where we stood was hardened, but red-hot; open pools were
within a few rods of us, and cracks revealed the moving fusion below.
In order to warm ourselves, and partially to dry our soaked garments,
we stood as near the fire as we could bear it, on a little knoll under
a large tree about six feet from the margin and as many feet above the
stream.

[Sidenote: _The Lava-Stream in the Forest._]

Here we prepared our supper, hanging a small tea-kettle over the
red-hot lava on a pole, and toasting our ham and bread on a spit.
Rain fell during most of the night, and we could not lie down; so,
supporting our backs against the trunk of a tree, we watched the
marvelous scene until morning. The river of devouring fire was moving
slowly on toward Hilo, partly under cover of its own hardened crust,
and partly open to our sight. Near the center of the flow was an open
river, some half a mile wide, forming a central channel of lava, deeper
and more active than the rest, while lateral branches gushed out on
both sides, and boiling lakes and spouting jets abounded.

Two miles below us, along the whole front of the stream, a fiery edge,
like the front of a war-column, was consuming the jungle, and leaving
the giant trees standing in the burning flood to be brought down and
consumed in their turn. All night long we watched this process. Trees
of seventy feet in height and three or four feet in diameter were not
felled in an hour, but were gradually gnawed off by the continuous
action of the igneous stream. A large number of these trees fell, and
we were often startled by their crashing thunder, and amazed at their
heavy fall and plunge into the destroying current. Here they would lie
until they took fire, and then startling explosions would sometimes
occur, and the livid flames would rush and roar while these Titans of
the forest were consumed.

The more rapidly-flowing lava often submerged the trunks and branches
of trees, and during the consuming process the surface of the flood
would be covered with thousands of little points of purple and blue
flame of the burning gases coming up from below.

Great changes took place during the night. The mountain furnace was in
full blast, and millions of cubic feet of lava were rushing down in the
pyroducts to replenish this river and to push it onward to the sea. The
surface of the stream before us was constantly heaving and changing
under the force of these fiery dynamics. Large fields of the solidified
crust would break up like ice on a great river in spring-time, and
melt. There were detonations at various points, and the uplifting
and cracking of the crust would call our attention from one point to
another, while we noted that the whole surface of the flow seemed to be
rising like a river in a freshet. The hot and hardened lava near us,
where we had warmed our feet, dried our clothes, and cooked our supper,
had been melted, and a superincumbent stratum of liquid fire had raised
it nearly six feet, so that its surface was nearly on a level with our
hillock. Lateral streams, like skirmishers, were being pushed out, new
fountains were opening, and vertical jets were leaping and dancing
before us like ghosts in flame. A tree fell within a few yards of us;
and finally we heard the crackling of the brambles just on our left--a
small stream of lava, like a fiery serpent, was creeping along behind
us, while the rising stream on our right was about to go over the bank,
and thus we were threatened to be surrounded by a ring of fire.

[Sidenote: _Driven Out by the Fire._]

It was nearly daylight, and the rain and cold continued, but the call
to retreat was imperative. We withdrew to the rear. In about ten
minutes more our nest was covered with a fiery flood, our sheltering
tree stood in the midst of it, and the flames were running up its
clinging vines and leaping among its branches.

I had determined to find, if possible, some place where we could cross
over the lava-stream and go down to Hilo on the other, or north side.
Working our way along the southern margin, and searching for some point
where it should be so nearly crusted over that by zigzagging we might
reach the opposite side, we at length ventured, my companion and our
guide following me closely. We made a serpentine track, winding up
and down, and often diverging from our course to avoid open pools and
streams. But the hardened surface was swelling and heaving around us by
the upheaving pressure of the lava below, and valves were continually
opening, out of which the molten flood gushed and flowed on every
side. Not a square rod could be found on all this wide expanse where
the glowing fusion could not be seen under our feet through holes
and cracks in the crust on which we were walking. After venturing
some thirty rods upon this sea of fire, we saw just before us an open
channel of seething lava, some three hundred feet wide, and whose
extreme length above and below we could not see or measure. Of course
there was no alternative but to beat a retreat, and we worked our way
back to the place whence we started.

To many it may seem strange that any one should venture into such a
place; but to a person familiar with the movements of these igneous
masses, the danger is not alarming. Fused rock is heavy and of great
consistency, and when left quiet for a time under the atmosphere its
surface stiffens and congeals, so that I have often walked on a flow
that had been liquid only five hours before. We returned to Hilo to
report.

Still the eruption made steady progress toward the town, felling the
forest, filling up ravines and depressions, and licking up the streams
and basins of water in its way. It reached the banks of the Wailuku,
and lateral arms were thrown out into the river. Again I visited the
scene of action. Several ship-masters and other gentlemen wished to
join me, and my two daughters begged that they also might go. The
distance had been lessened to about fifteen miles, and after patient
toil over rocky precipices and wearisome obstructions, we reached the
flow before nightfall. A furious line of lava marked the lower end of
the stream, gushing out at white heat from under the crust that covered
it for miles above. This igneous stream had fallen into a stream of
water, and the conflict between the elements was fierce. The water
boiled with raging fury, but the fire prevailed, sending up spiral
columns of steam and filling the channel. To those to whom the sight
was new, it was overwhelming.

[Sidenote: _The Advance of the Lava._]

Near the margin of the flow we found a lava oven, red-hot, but not
fused, and near this, on account of the cold, we made our lodging for
the night. In the morning we retraced our steps to Hilo.

When the advancing stream was within ten miles of the shore, I pushed
through the woods again, accompanied by one native, to the lower line
of the flow. Here we found an advanced stream which had fallen into a
dry wady, and was coming rapidly down to a precipice of some seventy
feet, over which it continued to pour from 2 +P.M.+ until 10 +A.M.+
of the next day. My guide and I took seats upon the rocky roof of a
cavern in the center of the channel, some distance below the lava
cataract. Here we had a grand front view of the scene during the whole
night. The fusion was divided by rocks into two streams, and these
descended in continuous sheets through the night--where we were there
was no night--filling up the deep basin below, and changing the nearly
perpendicular precipice into an inclined plane of about four degrees
angle. This great cavity being filled, the lava began to flow down the
channel where we had established our observatory. The channel was full
of boulders and very rough, so that we sat undisturbed for some time;
but when the fusion began to enter the cavern on whose roof we were
perched, and we heard subterranean thuds, we were admonished to seek
other quarters.

As the weeks went on, I made several other visits to this lava
stream--eight, I think, in all--marking its rate of progress and its
varied phenomena, and concluding, with many others, that its entrance
into our town and harbor was only a question of time, unless the blast
of the awful furnace on the mountain should cease.

[Sidenote: _Alarm in Hilo._]

As the flood of consuming fire came nearer and nearer, the anxiety
in Hilo became intense. Its approach was the great subject of
conversation. In the streets, in the shops, and in our homes, the one
question was, “What of the volcano?” Watchers were out keeping vigils
during the livelong night. Merchants began to pack their goods, and
people looked out for boats and other conveyances, and for places
of refuge to escape the impending ruin. Every house near the lower
skirt of the forest was evacuated, and all the furniture and animals
removed to places of safety. Our inland streams were choked, and the
river which waters our town and supplies ships was as black as ink,
and emitted an offensive odor. The juices of vines, and the ashes of
thousands of acres of burnt forests containing charred leaves and wood
came into these streams, and the smell of pyroligneous acid was strong.
By day the smoke went up like the smoke of Sodom. By night the flames
arose and spread out on high like a burning firmament. We thought we
could calculate very nearly the day when Hilo would be on fire, when
our beautiful harbor would be a pit of boiling fury, to be choked with
volcanic products and abandoned forever. What could we do?

The devouring enemy was within seven miles of us, his fiery lines
extending two miles in width. Already had it descended on its
devastated track fifty or sixty miles, persistently overcoming every
obstacle; the little distance remaining was all open, and no human
power could set up any barriers, or arrest the on-coming destroyer.

All knew what we could _not_ do. Some one said: “We can pray”; and
I have never seen more reverent audiences than those that assembled
on our day of fasting and prayer. No vain mirth, no scoffing, no
skepticism then. Native and foreigner alike felt it was well to pray
to Him who kindled the fire, that He would quench it.

On the 12th of February, only a few days after this, a party of fifty
or sixty foreigners was made up to visit the eruption, then about six
miles from the town. A United States frigate with her commodore was in
our harbor, and seven or eight whale-ships. Visitors were also here
from Honolulu, and eight wives of ship-masters were boarders in the
town. It was a great muster; the cavalcade of ladies and gentlemen
included the commodore and his suite, lawyers, judges, sheriff,
merchants, ship-masters, etc.

A way had been opened for horses through the thicket by natives hired
for the occasion, so that we might ride nearly to the margin of the
flow.

The morning on which we started was radiant with beauty; and as we
advanced, natives, catching the inspiration, turned out in troops, and
it was supposed a hundred joined us.

[Sidenote: _A Pleasure Party Demoralized._]

We met in an opening in the forest, some distance from the main
stream, but opposite an active flow of lava that had shot ahead down
the channel of a rivulet. A number of the company desired to see the
main flow in its breadth, and with these I proposed to advance two or
three miles, while those who remained were to follow a trail which the
natives would open, and prepare a camp near the margin of the stream.
We returned about sunset and found the camp demoralized. The party had
pursued the trail as directed, but at sight of the glowing fires which
were rushing down in volume had taken fright, turned back on their
track and fled deeper into the forest.

The commodore retreated at discretion, ordered his horse hastily,
vaulted into the saddle, and taking one or two of his officers sped
down the hill, out of the woods, over the rocks and through streams and
mud, never halting until he had reached the shore.

The frightened ladies and children wandered here and there, bewildered
in the forest, and it was midnight before the stragglers were all
brought into camp. Most of them were then so terrified that they could
not be persuaded to approach nearer to the burning river; but those
who were reassured and ventured to join the party of observation were
well repaid. Through the energy of a ship-master, a fine topsail canvas
tent had been set up on a high bank of the water-channel overlooking
a deep basin, into which a cascade was falling from a height of
thirty-nine feet, and our position commanded the channel for half a
mile. The fiery stream, perhaps seventy-five feet wide, filled the
whole channel and drove the boiling water before it, burning the bushes
and vines and ferns along the banks as it approached the fall. Down
plunged the molten lava, moving like a serpent into the depths of the
basin, covering the whole surface with enormous bubbles. A dense steam
which rolled upward in convolving clouds of fleecy whiteness floated
away upon the wind. Sometimes the glare of the fire would so fall upon
the cloud of vapor as to produce the appearance of flame mingled with
blood, and again the quivering and dancing of countless prismatic
colors. By break of day there was not a drop of water left in this
basin; the space was filled with smouldering lavas, and the precipice,
which had reared itself at an angle of 80°, was converted into a gently
sloping plane. A large slab of lava crust was tilted, and stood as a
monument of the accomplished work; the flow ceased, a little red-hot
lava was seen amidst the smouldering heaps of rocky coal, and from that
day the fearful flood did not come another foot toward Hilo.

This was six months after the commencement of the eruption on the
mountain. Above this pool, where the action ceased so suddenly, was the
broad river of one to two miles wide which supplied the flow; and this
also ceased to move toward Hilo, at the same time leaving a breastwork
of indurated lava some twenty-five feet high across the whole terminus
of the stream.

[Sidenote: _The Course of the Lava-Flow._]

But what is most marvelous, confounding our geology, is the fact that
for nine months longer, or until November, 1856, after the arrest of
the flow toward our town, the great terminal furnace on Mauna Loa was
in full blast, sending down billions of cubic feet of molten rock in
covered channels, and depositing it near the lower end of the stream,
but without pushing beyond its breastworks. This lava gushed out
laterally along the margins of the stream, or burst up vertically,
rending the crust, throwing it about in wild confusion, or heaping it
into cones and ridges a hundred feet high, as monuments of its fury.
I have mounted some of these cones, finding them cracked from base to
top in fissures six to eight feet apart, but so firm that I could walk
to their summits and look down in the seams on the right and left, and
see the red-hot lava glow like burning coals in a coal-pit, sending out
deadly blasts of acid gases.

At many points for miles above the terminus, pools, lakes, and streams
of liquid fire were scattered over the square miles of _aa_ and immense
fields of _pahoehoe_, boiling, seething, and flowing during the nine
months that followed February 13th. During all this time the water of
the Wailuku was so discolored, and so offensive in taste and smell,
that ships refused it, and it was disused by the residents--and in some
of the lovely woodland rills the water became black like ink.

During this eruption Prof. J. D. Dana wrote to me requesting that I
would ascertain on how great an angle of descent lavas would flow
without breaking, as some scientists affirmed that a continuous stream
could not flow down an angle of more than five degrees. I took pains
to measure accurately on one of my excursions, and found lava flowing
continuously on declivities of from one to ninety degrees. I also noted
that our Hawaiian volcanoes send out streams of such perfect fusion
that they will run like oil down any angle, and even cleave like paste
to an inward curve of the rock and form a thin veneering upon it.

Another question arose: Can a lava stream flow for many miles
longitudinally upon the surface, without being fed by vents or fissures
from below? Of course no one will dispute the fact that fusion pouring
down a steep mountain-side will rush for miles with such rapidity that
it can not cool in its descent so as to stop its progress. But can it
push forward over broad fields of almost level surface? I have answered
this question thus: 1st, On ascending the mountain to view an eruption
I see no evidence of deep fractures until we are more than two-thirds
the way to the summit.

2d. Where there is an opening extending down to the fiery abyss below,
there will, I think, always be a column of mineral smoke ascending to
mark the spot, so long as action continues. This is true of Kilauea,
and it is also true of all the eruptions I have observed. We see
continuous volumes of smoke ascending from the terminal crater on Mauna
Loa, and others near the terminus of the stream where the fusion is
gushing out from under its hardened surface. The smoke at the fountain
is mineral, while that below is from vegetable matter. These two kinds
of smoke are distinguishable by the smell; and the mineral smoke is
nowhere continuously emitted along the line of the lava-stream, however
extended that may be; it is characteristic of the lava-source.

[Sidenote: _The Supply of Lava Streams._]

3d. I have often surveyed, for distances of five to twenty miles,
the ground upon which eruptions were approaching, and have seen the
burning floods come on, covering to-day the ground on which I traveled
yesterday, and consuming the hut where I slept. Their manner of
progress is so familiar to me that it is difficult to see how I can be
mistaken in thinking that our longest lava-streams maintain themselves
wholly from the source, and are not fed from fissures beneath their
course.

This eruption of 1855-6 gave us an example of the law of compensation.
Repeated efforts had been made to open a road for horses through the
great central forest of Hawaii. It is probably a moderate estimate to
say that ten thousand days of native labor had been expended on the
enterprise. But the road was abandoned long ago, after having been
carried about ten miles from the shore, and in a few years it was
covered with jungle. This eruption consumed the forest to within a
mile of the lower skirt of it, and a bridle-path has been made to the
flow, and upon this hardened stream animals have been taken through an
opened passage to Waimea and Kohala. With proper effort a convenient
road might be made upon this lava-field, so as to shorten greatly the
distance to the western side of the island.

As before mentioned, surface lava exposed to the atmosphere crusts
over before running very far, unless it is moving with great velocity,
as down steep descents. This process of refrigeration so protects the
liquid below that it flows onward at white-heat, it may be, until
obstructed, when it gushes out on the margins, or bursts up vertically.
On plains where the movement is slow the obstructions are more numerous
and the force required to overcome them is less; this accounts for the
lateral spreadings, the upliftings and the thousand irregularities
which diversify the ever-changing surface of the lava-flow.

XXII.

_The Eruption of 1868 from Kilauea--The March and April
Earthquakes--Land-Slips--Destruction of Life and Property--The
Lava-Stream Bursts from Underground--The Volcanic Waves of
August, 1868, and of May, 1877._

From time immemorial earthquakes have been common on Hawaii. We have
felt the jar of thousands. Most of these shocks have been harmless. A
few have broken a little crockery, cracked plastering, and thrown down
stone walls.

But on the 27th of March, 1868, a series of remarkable earthquakes
commenced. Kilauea was unusually full and in vehement action. Day after
day from March 27th and onward, shocks were frequent, and growing
more and more earnest. At 4 +P.M.+, April 2d, a terrific shock rent
the ground, sending consternation through all Hilo, Puna, and Kau. In
some places fissures of great length, breadth, and depth were opened.
Rocks of twenty to fifty tons were sent thundering down from the walls
of Kilauea, and massive boulders were torn from hill-sides and sent
crashing down upon the plains and valleys below. Stone houses were rent
and ruined, and stone walls sent flying in every direction. Horses and
men were thrown to the ground; houses tilted from their foundations;
furniture, hardware, crockery, books and bottles, and all things
movable in houses were dashed hither and thither, as of no account. It
seemed as if the ribs and the pillars of the earth were being shattered.

I was sitting, as at the present moment, at my study-table, when a
fearful jerk startled me, and before I could arise, a jar still more
terrible caused me to rush for the stairs, and while going down, such a
crash shook the house that I supposed the roof had fallen.

Going out of doors, I found my wife standing at a distance from the
house, watching with an intense gaze its swaying and trembling, while
the ground rose and sank like waves, and there was no place stable
where hand or foot could rest.

When the shocks intermitted a little, I went upstairs to witness a
scene of wild confusion. A large bookcase, seven feet high by four
wide, with glass doors, and filled with books, lay prostrate on the
floor near where I had been sitting, with the glass broken into a
thousand pieces.

My study-table, eight feet long, and loaded with large volumes, was
thrown out from the wall into the center of the room, with one leg
broken square off, and the books and papers scattered on the floor.
Another bookcase, fastened to the wall, was rent from its fastenings
and thrown out near the table, and three of the sleepers which
supported the floor were broken by the fall of the case.

[Sidenote: _The Hill-Tops Shaken Off._]

The shaking continued all night, and most or all of the Hilo people
spent the night out of doors, fearing to remain in their houses. Some
said they counted a thousand shocks before morning, and so rapid were
these shocks, that the earth seemed to be in a continuous quiver, like
a ship in a battle.

But the heaviest blows fell on Kau, the district lying south of us
on the other side of Kilauea. There the earth was rent in a thousand
places, and along the foot-hills of Mauna Loa a number of land-slips
were shaken off from steep places, and thrown down with soil, boulders,
and trees. In one place a slide of half a mile in width was started on
a steep inclined plane, till, coming to a precipice of some 700 feet,
on an angle of about seventy degrees, the vast avalanche, mixing with
the waters of a running stream and several springs, was pitched down
this precipice, receiving such fearful momentum as to carry it three
miles in as many minutes. Ten houses, with thirty-one souls and five
hundred head of cattle were buried instantly, and not one of them has
been recovered.

I measured this avalanche and found it just three miles long, one-half
a mile wide at the head, and of a supposed average depth of twenty feet.

At the same time the sea rose twenty feet along the southern shore of
the island, and in Kau 108 houses were destroyed and forty-six people
drowned, making a loss of 118 houses and seventy-seven lives in that
district, during this one hour. Many houses were also destroyed in
Puna, but no lives were lost. During this awful hour the coast of Puna
and Kau, for the distance of seventy-five miles, subsided seven feet
on the average, submerging a line of small villages all along the
shore. One of my rough stone meeting-houses in Puna, where we once
had a congregation of 500 to 1,000, was swept away with the influx
of the sea, and its walls are now under water. Fortunately there was
but one stone building in Hilo, our prison; that fell immediately.
Had our coast been studded with cities built of stone and brick, the
destruction of life and property would have been terrific.

This terrible earthquake was evidently caused by the subterraneous
flow of the lavas from Kilauea, for the bottom of the crater sank
rapidly hundreds of feet, as ice goes down when the water beneath it is
drawn off. The course and the terminus of this flow were indicated by
fissures, steam, and spouting of lava-jets along the whole line from
Kilauea to Kahuku in Western Kau, a distance of forty miles, and I have
found foldings and faults in several places.

[Sidenote: _The Outbursting of the Lava._]

During these days of subterranean passage, the earth was in a
remarkable state of unrest; shocks were frequent, and it was asserted
by trustworthy witnesses that, in several places, the ragings of the
subterranean river were heard by listeners who put their ears to the
ground.

On the 7th of April the lava burst out from the ground in Kahuku,
nine miles from the sea, and flowed rapidly down to the shore. The
place of outbreak was in a wood on one of the foot-hills of Mauna Loa.
Travellers bound to Hilo came up to this flow on the west side, and
were not able to cross it, but were obliged to return to Kona and come
_via_ Waimea, a circuit of one hundred and seventy miles. A fissure of
a mile long was opened for the disgorgement of this igneous river, and
from the whole length of this orifice the lava rushed up with intense
vehemence, spouting jets one hundred to two hundred feet high, burning
the forest and spreading out a mile wide. The rending, the raging,
the swirling of this stream were terrific, awakening awe in all the
beholders.

Flowing seaward, it came to a high precipice which ran some seven miles
toward the shore, varying in height from two hundred to seven hundred
feet, and separating a high fertile plain, of a deep and rich soil on
the left or eastern side, from a wide field of pahoehoe hundreds of
feet below on the right or western side.

Before the flow reached this precipice it sent out three lateral
streams upon the grassy plain above, which ran a few miles, and ceased
without reaching the sea. But the larger portion of the igneous river,
or its main trunk, moved in a nearly straight line toward the shore,
pouring over the upper end of the precipice upon the plain below,
and dividing into two streams which ran parallel to each other, some
hundred feet apart, until they plunged into the sea. These streams
flowed four days, causing the waves to boil with great violence, and
raising two large tufa cones in the water at their termini. They formed
a long, narrow island, on which they enclosed thirty head of cattle,
which were thus surrounded before they were aware of their danger,
and it was ten days before the lava was hard enough to allow them to
be taken out of their prison. During this time they had no water, and
were almost maddened by the smoke and heat. Several cattle were also
surrounded on the upper grassy plain, where they were lying down to
ruminate or to sleep.

The owner of the ranch, with his wife and a large family of children,
was living in a pleasant house surrounded by a wall, with a fine garden
of trees and plants, near the center of this beautiful grassy plain,
and while sleeping at night, unconscious of danger, one of these
lateral streams, came creeping softly and silently like a serpent
toward them, until within twenty yards of the house, when a sudden
spout of lava aroused them and all fled with frightened precipitation,
taking neither “purse or scrip,” but leaving all to the devouring fire.
The lady was so overwhelmed with terror that had it not been for her
husband on one side and another gentleman on the other, she must have
fallen and perished in the lava.

[Sidenote: _Shut In by the Lava._]

The family, crossing a small ravine, rested a few moments on a hill
near by. In ten minutes after crossing the ravine it was filled with
liquid fire. Their escape was marvelous. In a few minutes the house was
wrapped in flames, the garden was consumed, and all the premises were
covered with a burning sea.

A little farther down this green lawn was the hut of a native Hawaiian.
As the fiery flood came within fifty feet of it, it suddenly parted,
one arm sweeping around one side of the house and the other around the
opposite side, and uniting again left the building on a small plat of
ground, of some three-quarters of an acre, surrounded by a wall of
fusion. In this house five souls were imprisoned ten days with no power
to escape. All their food and water were exhausted. Small fingers of
lava often came under the house; it was a little grass hut, and they
were obliged to beat out the fire with clubs and stamp it with their
feet.

Piles of burning scoria were heaped around this house, as high as the
eaves, and in some places within ten feet of it. I afterward visited
this house, and found its inmates alive and rejoicing in their
deliverance.

A little further on, and this lava stream came near the ruins of a
stone church, which had been shaken down by the earthquake of April 2d.
The walls were a heap of ruins, and the roof and timbers were piled
upon the stones. Again the flood opened to the right and left, swept
close to the _débris_ of the church, and united again below, leaving
all unconsumed.

The same earthquake demolished a large stone church in Waiohinu, the
central and most important mission-station in Kau, and so rent the
house of the pastor, the Rev. John F. Pogue, that he, with his family,
fled to the hills, and soon after left the district to return no more.
Other homes also were left desolate, the terrified inmates seeking
abodes elsewhere.

On the 14th of August, 1868, a remarkable rise and fall of the sea
commenced in our harbor, and continued for three days. The oscillation,
or the influx and efflux of the waves occupied only ten minutes, and
the rise and fall of the water was only three to four feet. What
rendered this motion of the water remarkable was its long continuance,
and the short intervals of the rise and fall with no apparent cause.

[Sidenote: _Another Volcanic Wave._]

Another volcanic wave fell upon Hilo on the morning of the 10th of May,
1877. From a letter written by my wife[2] I copy the following extracts
descriptive of the event: “A chilly, cheerless night shuts down upon
a day that has had no parallel in kind in my previous experiences. I
was just rousing from quiet slumbers this morning, not long after five,
when heavy knocking at our door hastened me to it. There stood Kanuku,
almost wild with excitement, and so breathless she could hardly give
form to the words she poured forth; but I gathered their substance. A
volcanic wave had swept in upon the shore; houses were going down, and
people were hurrying _mauka_ (inland) with what of earthly goods they
could carry.

[2] Mrs. L. B. Coan.

“We hastened to the beach. People on foot and on horseback were
hurrying in all directions; men with chests and trunks on their backs,
women with bundles of bedding and clothing under which they staggered,
grandmothers with three or four year old children on their shoulders,
and mothers with little babes, all in quest of safety and a place to
lodge their burdens. Arrived at the foot of our street what a sight we
beheld! Houses were lifted off their under-pinning and removed a fathom
or more--some had tumbled in sad confusion and lay prone in the little
ponds that remained of the sea in various depressed places. Riders at
breakneck speed from Waiakea brought word of still more complete ruin
there; the bridge, they said, was gone.

“We walked on toward the Wailama. Then a shout, and we looked back to
see the waves rising and surging landward, so we dared not linger, but
turned on our track, for a better chance of escape should the sea again
overpass its bounds.

“People wading in water where their homes had stood half an hour
before, gathering up goods soaked by the brine, and begrimed with mud,
men in wet garments who had had to swim for their lives, and women
with terror in their faces caught up the refrain of a death-wail that
reached our ears from the region of Kanae’s place, and the word flew
from lip to lip that old Kaipo was missing. Asleep, with Kanae’s babe
pillowed near her when the wave came upon them, she had wakened, and
hastening out of the house found herself in deep water. Holding the
little one above her head, she had courage and strength to keep it safe
till the mother swam for it, and then, no one knows how, the old woman
was swept out to sea, and hours after, the body was found at Honori.

“About nine o’clock, the rain which had come in infrequent light
flurries before, began to pour in earnest, and has fallen in such
pitiless inclemency through the day, that it has added to the
discomforts of the poor, homeless wanderers, and to the general gloom
that hangs over our little town.

“Mr. Coan has been out much of the time here and there with words of
sympathy and comfort. Rebecca Nakuina told me the natives said they
were safe wherever he was. One poor old man came to our door and asked
in most pathetic tones if it was true that Mr. Coan had said that at
noon there would be another and heavier wave, and went away comforted
when assured that he had not.

[Sidenote: _Havoc in Hilo Bay._]

“A large barque at anchor in our harbor was tossed about most
marvelously at the very mercy of every efflux and reflux wave. For
hours she writhed under this restless tossing, one moment pointing
her prow toward Puna, and the next in the opposite direction, running
back and forth the full length of her cable, like a weaver’s shuttle,
sometimes careening so far that we feared the next moment to see her on
her beam ends, and then struggling to right herself, and for a little
recovering her usual position, only to repeat these movements.

“May 11th. The birds sang and the sun shone this morning, as if there
were no sorrow here. But it was a great blessing that the day was
fair; the sunshine was needed for heart-warmth and for drying what of
clothing and household effects had been collected from the mud and
slime in which they were found.

“We went over the same ground on the nearest beach that we visited
yesterday, only to realize more fully the wild havoc that had been made.

“What shall I say of what we saw on the other side of the bay! If I
tell you that Mr. Coan was bewildered, seeing no familiar object by
which to get his bearings, so that he exclaimed: ‘Where are we!’ you
will understand something of what destruction must have gone on there.
But unseen it can not be realized, the dreariness and desolation of a
little region that was so late one of Hilo’s prettiest suburbs. Not a
house standing on all that frontage. Waiakea bridge had been carried
a hundred rods or more from its abutments. Even the little church had
been set back some two hundred feet, tolling its bell as it went, while
the _luna’s_ house that before nestled under the shade of the pride of
India trees on the grassy bank had borne it company, and fallen into
shapeless ruin at the very side of the almost uninjured church.

“At this spot the people began to gather about us, so sorrowful in
their homelessness, that their voices and ours choked as we exchanged
‘alohas.’ Some of them led the way to a hut, too small to be a shelter,
but under whose low roof we found a mother sitting by the corpse of her
little one that the waters had not spared to her. Close on one side, an
old man lay groaning with the pain of fractured ribs and a broken leg,
and on the other side, a heap of something, I could hardly tell what at
first, lifted a battered head to tell us how he had been thrown upon
the rocks and they had bruised his skull.

“An Englishman’s escape from death seems wonderful. We visited him and
found him suffering greatly, but able between groans and gaspings for
breath to tell us something of his experience.

[Sidenote: _Losses of Life and Property._]

“‘I got caught, sir,’ he said. ‘I should have escaped if I hadn’t gone
back after my money; when I came down-stairs the roller had hit the
house, and before I could get out of the door, the house had fallen
upon me. I was dreadfully bruised, and you see, sir, as the wave took
the house inland, it kept surging about with me in it, and getting new
knocks all the while.’ ‘And what of the money--was it saved?’ ‘Oh,
no, sir, it all went, six hundred dollars. It was all I had, and I am
stripped now and I’m past working, seventy-seven years old.’ Kneeling
by the poor man, Mr. Coan offered an earnest prayer. We left him
feeling that he was very likely past working much longer.

“Five lives have been lost; twenty persons are more or less injured.
Forty-four dwellings are demolished, and one hundred and sixty-three
people left homeless, their means of procuring sustenance snatched from
them. Had the wave fallen in the darkness of the night, many more must
have perished. Daylight revealed the almost silent approach of the
danger, and most had time to flee. I am thankful, if it must happen,
that this has occurred before our going down to Honolulu, so that
Mr. Coan is among his people to comfort and direct them. Only a few
Sabbaths ago he preached a sermon on laying up treasure where thieves
could not break through and steal. Who thought then of _this thief_?”

Deep sympathy was awakened in our whole community for those who
suffered by this calamity. Food, clothing, blankets, were given in
abundance. The report of the disaster spread over the islands, and
help came from every quarter. His Excellency John Dominis, Governor of
Oahu, and Her Royal Highness Lydia Dominis, the king’s sister, were
commissioned to come to our aid with the donations from Honolulu. A
judicious distribution of money, clothing, lumber, etc., was made among
the people, and thus encouraged they went cheerfully to work, and in a
few months most of the losses were repaired; better houses were built,
and the sufferers seemed more prosperous than before.

They now annually commemorate the 10th of May by a religious festival
and a thanksgiving offering to the treasury of the Lord.

XXIII.

_The Eruption of 1880-1881--Hilo Threatened as Never Before--A
Day of Public Prayer--Visitors to the Lava-Flow--It Approaches
within a Mile of the Shore--Hope Abandoned--After Nine Months the
Action Suddenly Abates--The Deliverance--The Mechanism of a Great
Lava-Flow--An Idolater Dislodged--Conclusion._

On the 5th of November, 1880, our latest eruption from Mauna Loa broke
out at a point some 12,000 feet above sea-level, and a few miles north
of the great terminal crater, Mokua-weo-weo. The glare was intense,
and was seen at great distances. Brilliant jets of lava were thrown
high in the air, and a pillar of blazing gases mounted thousands of
feet skyward, spreading out into a canopy of sanguinary light which
resembled, though upon a larger scale, the so-called “pine-tree
appendage” formed over Vesuvius during its eruptions by the vertical
column of vapors with its great horizontal cloud.

Meanwhile a raging river of lava, about three-fourths of a mile wide
and from fifteen to thirty feet deep, rushed down the north-east flank
of the great dome, and ran some thirty miles to the base of Mauna Kea.
This stream was composed mostly of _aa_ or scoria. Its terminus was
visited and well described by our townsman, David Hitchcock, Esq. This
flow hardened and ceased; but a stream of _pahoehoe_ or field lava was
now sent off to the south-east, toward Kilauea. The roaring furnace on
Mauna Loa remained in full blast. Down came a third river of lava, in
several channels, flowing in the direction of Hilo. This divided itself
in places and reunited, leaving islands in the forest. This stream
crossed the flow of 1855-56, followed its south-east margin, and fell
into our great upland forest in a column from one to two miles wide.
There was the sound as of a continuous cannonading as the lava moved
on, rocks exploding under the heat, and gases shattering their way
from confinement. We could hear the explosions in Hilo; it was like
the noise of battle. Day and night the ancient forest was ablaze, and
the scene was vivid beyond description. By the 25th of March the lava
was within seven miles of Hilo, and steadily advancing. Until this
time we had hoped that Hilo would not be threatened. But the stream
pursued its way. By the 1st of June it was within five miles of us, and
its advance, though slow, was persistent. It had now descended nearly
fifty miles from its source, and the action on Mauna Loa was unabated.
The outlook was fearful; a day of public humiliation and prayer was
observed, as during the eruption of 1855. But still the lava moved
onward, heading straight for Hilo. One arm of the stream was now easily
accessible on its northern margin, and two more were moving in the deep
jungle so far to the south that visitors had not the time or patience
to penetrate to them. It now began to appear that should these streams
unite no trace of Hilo, or of Hilo harbor, would remain. Some of our
people were calm; others were horror-stricken. Some packed up their
goods and sent them to Honolulu or elsewhere, and some abandoned their
houses.

[Sidenote: _The Eruptions of 1880-81._]

Visitors to the stream were now frequent; and the crater on Mauna Loa
was reached, on a third attempt, by the Rev. Mr. Baker, of Hilo. Were I
twenty years younger, I should have been on the mountain-top also, but
my time to climb such rugged heights is past.

The northerly wing of the stream now hardened, clogging the channel
in which the lava was taking its way toward the center of our town.
But this check gave additional power to the south-east wing, so that
on the 26th of June, a fierce stream broke out from the great lava
pond and came rushing down the rocky channel of a stream with terrific
force and uproar, exploding rocks and driving off the waters. Hilo was
in trouble. We were now in immediate danger. The lava, confined in
the water-channel of from fifty to a hundred feet wide, advanced so
rapidly that by the 30th of June it was not more than two and a half
miles from us, threatening to strike Volcano Street about a quarter
of a mile from Church Street, on which I live, and to fall into our
harbor about midway of the beach. The stream was fearfully active, and
the danger was now close upon us. From the town we could walk up to
the living lava in forty minutes, and back again in thirty. A hundred
people would sometimes visit it in a day. Its roar, on coming down
the rough and rocky bed of the ravine, was like that of our Wailuku
River during a freshet, but a deeper and grander sound. Explosions and
detonations were frequent; I counted ten in a minute. The glare of it
by night was terrific. The daily progress of the flow was now from one
hundred to five hundred feet.

When I visited the stream on the 18th of July, I saw a scene like this:
Troops of boys and girls, young men and women, were watching the flow.
They plunged poles into the viscid lava as it urged itself slowly
onward; drawing out small lumps of the adhering fusion, they moulded
it, before it had time to cool, into various forms at will. They made
cups, canes, vases, tubes, and other articles out of this molten clay,
and these they sold to visitors and strangers at from twenty-five cents
to a dollar or more for a specimen. All went away with fresh spoils
from the spoiler. An artist was there, who had taken sketches in oil;
and the photographer has been upon the spot. Our town was now crowded
with visitors from all parts of the Islands, from our Princess Regent,
sister of the king, then absent, to the least of his subjects. Many
spent entire nights upon the banks of the lava river.

[Sidenote: _The Lava within Half a Mile of Hilo._]

Just in front of one of its branches a stone wall five feet high was
built, in hope of protecting the great Waiakea sugar-mill, for which
this arm of the flow was heading. It was not a broad or heavy arm, but
it was followed up by a column of fusion which no engineering could
turn aside. This small advance stream came within a yard or two of the
wall, paused there, and fell asleep in its shadow. At a single point
the viscid mass, about two feet deep, struck the wall. There it rested
a little, until, being supplied with fresh lava from behind, it heaped
itself up against the barrier, poured over it, and then stiffened and
solidified. It now hangs there, a sheet of vitreous drapery, marking
the limit of the flow in that direction. Judge Severance dug a moat
around the Hilo prison, with an embankment seven or eight feet high,
hoping to avert the necessity of a general jail-delivery; but any
considerable body of lava of course defies every obstruction. We made
no preparations, however, for quitting our house.

The flood came on until all agreed that in two or three days more
it would be pouring into our beautiful bay. On the 10th of August it
was but one mile from the sea, and half a mile from Hilo town. On
that day, nine months and five days from the outbursting of the great
eruption, when hope had perished in nearly every heart, the action
began to abate. The raging flood, the steam, the smoke, the noise of
the flow were checked; and in a day or two the great red dragon lay
stiffened and harmless upon the borders of our village. The relief was
unspeakable.

On the 13th of August I visited the flow for the fifth time, and felt
radiating heat, but saw no more liquid lava. But the great pall of
the eruption lay upon the land for fifty miles. I estimate that the
lava-stream covered a hundred square miles of mountain, forest, and
farm land, to an average depth of twenty-five feet--enough to cover the
State of Connecticut to a depth of six inches. No exact measurements,
however, have yet been made.

I may add a word upon the curious process by which this lava flow, like
others, has made its way over so great a distance from its source.
The average slope of Mauna Loa is seven degrees; but this is made up
of secondary slopes, varying from one to twenty degrees. As the lava
first rushes down the steeper inclinations it flows uncovered; but its
surface soon hardens, forming a firm, thick crust like ice on a river,
and under this crust the torrent runs highly fluid, and retaining
nearly all of its heat. In this pyroduct, if I may so call it, the
lava stream may pour down the mountain-side for a year or more, flowing
unseen, except where openings in the roof of its covered way reveal it.

[Sidenote: _How the Lava-Stream Makes Progress._]

When the molten river reaches the more level highlands at the base of
the mountain, it moves more slowly, and sometimes spreads out into
lakes of miles in diameter. The surface of it soon hardens; the lavas
below are sealed within a rigid crust that confines them on every side.
Their onward progress is thus checked for hours or days. But as the
tremendous pressure of the stream behind increases, the crust is rent,
and the liquid lava bursts out and gushes forward or laterally for a
hundred, five hundred, or a thousand feet or more, as the case may be.
The surface of this extruded mass cools and stiffens in turn, again
confining the living lava; then, with the pressure from behind, there
is a fresh rupture in the confining shell. While the lava is held in
check as I have described, the uninitiated visitor will pronounce the
flow to have ceased. But it is only accumulating its forces. The lava
presses down from the source, until suddenly the hardened crust is
ruptured with a crash, the lava moves forward again, and a new joint
is added to the covered way. Thus overcoming all obstacles, the fusion
is kept under cover, and moves forward or laterally in its own ducts
for an indefinite distance. It may flow at white heat in this way for
thirty or forty miles and reach the sea at a distance of more than
fifty miles from the mountain source.

By virtue of this pressure from behind, and of its own viscidity, the
lava may even be propelled _up-hill_ for a certain distance, if the
outbursting rush of lava be directed upon an upward slope. The lava
thus grades its own path as it goes seaward.

Five or six miles inland from our town there nestled, some twenty
years ago, a quiet hamlet. There was a school-house in the place; and
the land produced taro, potatoes, bananas, and other fruit-trees. The
scenery was of enchanting beauty. But the population passed away;
and of late years only one house remained on this lovely spot. Its
occupant was reputed an inveterate heathen. He belonged to the ancient
class of native physicians or medicine-men. When the burning flood
struck the forest behind his house, he is said to have hoisted his
flag in front of the slowly advancing lava, and to have forbidden it,
in the name of the ancient gods of his race, to pass that flag. But
onward came the flood, regardless of the edict. From time to time the
heathen doctor was compelled to remove his flag to the rear, planting
it nearer and nearer to his house; and at last the lava expelled him
and his friends, and rolled over house, garden, and field, leaving
a grisly pile of black lava over all. One circumstance in the case
was curious. The lava stream surrounded a single kalo-plant, growing
on an islet of eighteen inches in diameter, and on another one twice
as broad, a single banana plant. They have survived the heat and are
growing finely, the only green things left in the garden from which the
idolater was driven.

[Sidenote: _Conclusion._]

* * * * *

It is time to bring these imperfect sketches to a close. The foregoing
pages have been written among interruptions and anxieties, but they
make some partial record of a life preserved by its Giver in many
scenes of danger and crowned with many blessings. And among its chief
blessings I would recognize God’s goodness in granting me precious
partners in my life-work. My second marriage, October 13, 1873, was
to Miss Lydia Bingham, daughter of the Rev. Hiram Bingham. This
faithful helpmeet is the strength and support of my age. But for her
suggestions, and her patient labors in copying the manuscript of this
volume, I should not have undertaken, at my time of life, the task of
writing it.

As I lay aside the pen, our anxieties have passed away. If again, while
I remain, the rocks should melt and flow down at the presence of the
Lord, again we “will look unto the hills whence our help cometh.”

+Hilo+, _15th August, 1881_.

INDEX.

Adams, John, 227

Agriculture, Hawaiian, 123, 231, 234, 248

Alexander, William P., 162, 186

Andrews, Lorrin, 232

Anderson, Rufus, 136

Armstrong, Richard, 162, 186, 234, 243

Atuona Valley, 204

Auburn Seminary, 13

Austin, Judge, 114

Bachelot, John Alexius, 93

Baker, Mr., 329

Baldwin, Dwight, 231

Baptism in Puna, 90

Bicknell, James, 181, 183, 192, 198, 202

Bingham, Hiram, 95, 242, 244

Bingham Jr., 192

Bishop, Artemas and Sereno, 233

Bond, Elias, 224

Brown, J., 164, 168

Brown, Lydia, 19

Byron, Lord George Anson, 25

Callao, visit to, 22

Canoe, the sacrificial, 206

Canoe voyages in Hawaii, 37

Carpenter, Helen, 235

“Carysfort,” visit of, 106-109

Catholic missionaries, 93, 95-101, 120

Catholics in the Marquesas, 163

Catholics, reformed, 104-106

Chapin, Alonzo, 231

Cheeseman, Lewis, 14

Chicago, visit to, 214

Children of missionaries, 114

Chinese in Hawaii, 123

Church-building, 82

Church organization, 90

Churches, the Hawaiian, 223, 248

Clark, E. W., 232, 234, 243

Coan, Fidelia Church, 9, 18, 61

Coan, Gaylord, 1

Coan, Titus:
parentage and childhood, 1-5;
youth, 6-9;
studies for the ministry, 13;
prison work, 15;
trip to Patagonia, 16;
marriage, embarkation for Hawaii, 18;
arrival in Honolulu, 22;
in Hilo, 24;
foot-tours, 31, 42;
canoe voyaging, 37;
schools, 63, 115;
patients, 63;
Sunday work, 64;
labored with by Mormons, 101;
organized churches under native pastors, 136;
first visit to the Marquesas Islands, 164;
second visit, 192;
visits to various parts of the Hawaiian Islands, 223;
visit to the eruption of 1840, 76;
of 1852, 281;
of 1855-56, 290, 297, 302, 304, 306;
of 1880-81, 330;
on the angle of descent of flowing lavas, 310;
visit to the United States, 213

Colossal images, Marquesan, 177

Conde, Daniel T., 233

Crook and Harris, Messrs., 161

Crossing the torrents, 33

Damon, S. C., 241

Dana, James D., 68;
quoted, 69

Darling, M., in Tahuata, 162

Darwin, Charles, quoted, 184

Decrease of population, 121, 258

Dibble, Sheldon, 64, 232

Diell, S. C., 241

Dimond, Henry, 19

Diseases, epidemic, 81, 198, 202, 239, 259-261

Disputant, a Marquesan, 209

Dole, Daniel, 247

Dominis, John and Lydia, 326

Douglass, David, 225

DuPont, Samuel Francis, 149

Dwight, S. G., 238

Earthquakes of 1868, 86, 313

“Embuscade,” visit of, 94

Epidemic diseases, 81, 198, 202, 239, 259-261

Eruption of 1840, 70;
of 1843, 270;
of 1852, 279;
of 1855-56, 289;
of 1868, 313;
of 1880-81, 327

Ewa station, 245

Fatuiva, 169

Finney, Charles, 14, 49

Forbes, A. O., 238, 243

Forbes, Cochran, 42, 229

Franklin, Lady, 146

Frear, Walter, 242

French in the Marquesas, 163, 165, 191, 200, 202, 210

“Galatea,” visit of the, 85

General meetings, 27, 59

Golett, Captain, 168

Goodrich, Joseph, 26, 64

Green, Jonathan, 64, 234

Gulick, L. H., 243

Gulick, O. H., 245

Gulick, Peter G., 229

Halley, Edouard Michel, 165

Hana station, 232

Hanahi Valley, 181

Hanatita Valley, 182

Hanavave Valley, 173-178, 207

Hawaiian character, 79, 250, 252

Hawaiian government, old and new, 30, 124-126

Hawaiian mission, work of closed, 249

Hawaiian pastors, 136-138

Hawaiian population diminishing, 121, 258

Hakahekau Bay, 195

Haleakala crater, 235

Hall, Edwin O., 19

Hanamenu Valley, 202

Heteani Valley, 185

High-priest of the volcano, 44

Hilo, village and district described, 24, 31;
churches of, 42, 55, 135, 139;
their trials, 67, 97;
buildings, 82;
contributions, 85, 118-121;
statistics of, 57;
methods, 87;
boarding-school, 27;
girls’ school, 61;
volcanic waves at Hilo, 51, 316, 320

Hitchcock, David, 328

Hitchcock, E. M., 19

Hitchcock, H. R., 238

Hivaoa Island, 202, 204

Honolulu, 22, 239

House of Keawe, 226

Hopuku, 204, 205

Hapa (“Happar”) Valley, 200

Hoopili, 231

Hunt, T. D., 229

Hyde, C. M., 251

Images, Stone, at Puamau, 177

Jarves, J. J., history by, 59

Johnson, Edward, 247

Jones, Ap Catesby, 84

José, David, 201

Judd, G. P., 125

Kaivi, 170

Kalakaua, King, 134

Kamehameha I., 127

Kamehameha II. (Liholiho), 127

Kamehameha III. (Kauikeaouli), 124, 127-130

Kamehameha IV. (Alexander Liholiho), 130

Kamehameha V. (Lot), 131

Kaneohe station, 245

Kapohaku Paul, 183

Kauai, 246

Kaukau, A., 182

Kauwealoha, 169, 171, 195, 202, 205, 210

Kekai, 281

Kekela, James, 176, 178, 202, 205, 207-210

Kekuanaoa, 130

Kilauea compared with Vesuvius, 69;
action in, 263, 295;
eruption of 1840, 70;
of 1868, 313;
visitors to, 269

Killingworth revisited, 219

Kinau, 130

King, Asa, 5, 7

Kinney, Henry, 229

Kuaihelani, 174

Kuakini, 227

Lafon, Thomas, 247, 264

Lahaina, 230

Lahainaluna, 231

Laioha, 201

Land-slips in Kau, 315

Laplace’s visit, 93

“La Poursuivante,” visit of, 94

Lava chimneys, 78;
streams, how supplied, 310;
angles of descent in flowing, 309;
Hilo threatened by, 328;
mechanism of their progress, 312, 332

Lee, William L., 131, 143

Lepers, settlement of on Molokai, 239, 260

Lima, visit to, 22

Lincoln, President, sends a gift to Kekela, 179

Lunalilo, King, 132-134

Lyman, Chester S., 144

Lyman, David B., 23-28, 30, 60, 64

Lyons, Lorenzo, 224

Mallet, Captain, 94

Marquesas Islands described, 159, 169;
mission to, 154, 161-164;
its decline, 211;
fighting of the clans, 165, 169, 173;
feudal government in, 180;
tattooing, 181;
physique of the Marquesans, 181;
tabu system, 187;
ancient stone images in, 177;
scenery of, 183, 197;
offering of the sacrificial canoe, 206

Mauna Kea, 225

Mauna Loa, average slope of, 332;
eruption of 1843, 270;
of 1852, 279;
of 1855-56, 289;
of 1880-81, 327

Measles, epidemic of, 259

Meeting of the American Board for 1870, 217

Melville, Herman, 190, 199, 200

Meto, death of, 193

Mineral smoke, 310

Missionaries’ children, 114

Mokuaweoweo crater, 295

Molokai, 238

Molokai, Leper settlement on, 239

Mormons, 101-103, 120, 213

“Morning Stars,” the three, 155, 158, 196

Morse, Captain, 156

Mountain climb in the Marquesas, 183

Munn, Bethuel, 238

Nettleton, Asahel, 1, 7, 13, 49

Nettleton, Tamza, 1

Norton, Helen, 244

Nuuhiva Island, 170, 199

Ogden, Maria, 334

Oleson, W. B., 28

Olinda, 236

Omoa Valley, 163, 169, 174, 204

Paris, John D., 57, 150, 229, 270

Parker, Benjamin W., 162, 186, 192, 208, 245

Paulet, Lord George, 106

Paumotu Archipelago, The, 194

Pearson, Admiral, 149

Pele, high-priest of, 9, 44

Pele’s hair, 267

Pogue, John F., 229

Population, Hawaiian, diminishing, 121, 258

Porter, Joseph, 187, 199

Puamau Valley, 176, 179, 207-210

Puna district described, 39;
a trip in, with Prof. Lyman, 144

Punahou school, 244

Pyrometer, the lost, 264

Reformed Catholics, 104-106

Resolution Bay, 164

Revival of 1836-37, 43-51, 59

Rice, W. H., 147

Richards, William, 230

Road across Hawaii, attempted, 311

Rodgersons, the, in Tahuata, 162

Rogers, Edmund H., 19

Sacraments, how dispensed, 90

Salt Lake City visited, 213

Santiago, visit to, 21

Shipman, W. C., 229

Small-pox in Hawaii, 81

Small-pox in the Marquesas Islands, 198, 202

Smoke, mineral, 310

Smith, J. W., 247

Smith, Lowell, 238, 243

Spaulding, Ephraim, 231

Staley, Bishop, 104

Stallworthy, M., in Tahuata, 162

Statues, colossal, in the Marquesas Islands, 177

Streams in Hilo, crossing the, 33

Sugar culture, 123, 231, 234, 248

Tabu system in Hawaii

Tabu system in the Marquesas, 187

Taiohai Bay, 186, 189

Taipi (“Typee”) Valley, 190, 199, 201

Thompson, Frank, 135

Thouars, Du Petit, 163

Thunderstorm on Mauna Loa, 272

Thurston, Asa, 227

Tromelin, Admiral de, 94

“Typee” (Taipi) Valley, 190, 199, 201

Uahuna Island, 201

Uapou Island, 195

United States Exploring Expedition, 66

Valparaiso, visit to, 21

Vaitahu Bay, 164

Van Duzee, William S., 229

Visit to the United States, 212

Visitors to Kilauea, 269

Volcanic chimneys, 78

Volcanic eruptions, 70, 270, 279, 289, 313, 327

Volcanic waves, 51, 316, 320

Voyaging in the Hawaiian Islands, 23, 111-114

Waialua Station, 245

Wailuku, 234

Waimea, visits to, 224

Waipio Valley, 224

Washington City, visit to, 217

Wetmore, Charles H., 63, 281

Whalon, mate, escapes the cannibals, 177

Whitney, Samuel, 247

Whittlesey, Eliphalet, 233

Wilcox, Abner, 64, 247

Wild bull confronted, the, 287

Wilkes, Charles, 66, 195

Transcriber’s Notes

For possible printer’s errors in punctuation, hyphenation, spelling,
etc., only the changes listed below were made.

_Italics_, +Small Caps+, and +ALL SMALL CAPS+ were converted as so.

Descriptive text in the page header--exclusively on odd pages--was
formatted as sidenotes. These were then moved to the beginning of the
nearest paragraph break, depending on context.

Ditto marks within tables and the Index were replaced with the words
they represent for consistency across page breaks.

Footnotes were reindexed and moved to the next paragraph break.

Page number references in the index were not verified for accuracy;
they were kept as printed.

On page vi in the Table of Contents in the summary for Chapter X, a
missing em-dash was added to connect “Reigning King” to “The Foreign
Church”.

On page 180, a missing period was added to end the sentence “There are
no laws to forbid or to punish crime”.

On page 259, “physiogical” was corrected to “physiological”.

On page 338 in the Index entry for Hilo, “discribed” was corrected
to “described”.

On the same page in the Index entry for Kamehameha, “Alexander
Lihöliho” was corrected to “Alexander Liholiho”.

On page 339 in the Index entry for the Marquesas Islands, spaced out
text in “Islands” was formatted as normal text.

On the same page in the same Index entry, a missing comma was added
after “feudal government in”.

On the same page in the Index entry for Mauna Loa, an
aberrant comma was removed from “eruption of, 1843” to make “eruption
of 1843”.

On page 340 in the Index entry for the Tabu system in Hawaii, the
missing page number next to “Tabu system in Hawaii” is intentional, for
there is no mention of the Tabu system in Hawaii, only in the Marquesas.

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