n--to it. I had to half-run myself to keep up
with him.

"Drive to Doctor Hervey's," he told the driver. "Drive as fast as you
can."

He sank down in a seat, panting and gasping. The pallor of his face had
increased. His lips were compressed and the sweat was standing out on
his forehead and upper lip. He seemed in some horrible agony.

"For God's sake, Martin, make those horses go!" he broke out suddenly.
"Lay the whip into them!--do you hear?--lay the whip into them!"

"They'll break, sir," the driver remonstrated.

"Let them break," Kersdale answered. "I'll pay your fine and square you
with the police. Put it to them. That's right. Faster! Faster!"

"And I never knew, I never knew," he muttered, sinking back in the seat
and with trembling hands wiping the sweat away.

The carriage was bouncing, swaying and lurching around corners at such a
wild pace as to make conversation impossible. Besides, there was nothing
to say. But I could hear him muttering over and over, "And I never knew.
I never knew."

ALOHA OE

Never are there such departures as from the dock at Honolulu. The great
transport lay with steam up, ready to pull out. A thousand persons were
on her decks; five thousand stood on the wharf. Up and down the long
gangway passed native princes and princesses, sugar kings and the high
officials of the Territory. Beyond, in long lines, kept in order by the
native police, were the carriages and motor-cars of the Honolulu
aristocracy. On the wharf the Royal Hawaiian Band played "Aloha Oe," and
when it finished, a stringed orchestra of native musicians on board the
transport took up the same sobbing strains, the native woman singer's
voice rising birdlike above the instruments and the hubbub of departure.
It was a silver reed, sounding its clear, unmistakable note in the great
diapason of farewell.

Forward, on the lower deck, the rail was lined six deep with khaki-clad
young boys, whose bronzed faces told of three years' campaigning under
the sun. But the farewell was not for them. Nor was it for the white-
clad captain on the lofty bridge, remote as the stars, gazing down upon
the tumult beneath him. Nor was the farewell for the young officers
farther aft, returning from the Philippines, nor for the white-faced,
climate-ravaged women by their sides. Just aft the gangway, on the
promenade deck, stood a score of United States Senators with their wives
and daughters--the Senatori