rl, were children of early missionaries, and
enlivened the journey by many interesting incidents of island life. At
last we crossed the cactus desert, ascended an eminence, and then sank
into a valley grand and deep, shut in by walls carved in fantastic shape
by the action of water. Our road was a narrow pathway, paved with
stone, that wound down the face of the cliff. The natives call this
place Ki-pa-pa, which signifies "paved way."

As we were making the descent on one side we saw a party of natives on
horseback winding down on the opposite. First rode three men, single
file, with children perched in front of them, then three or four women
in black or gay-colored holokus, then a boy who led two pack-mules laden
with large baskets. All wore wreaths of ferns or flowers. When we met
they greeted us with a hearty "_Aloha!_" ("Love to you!"), and in reply
to a question in Hawaiian said that they were going to Honolulu with
fresh fish, bananas and oranges.

We climbed the rocky pathway rising out of the valley, and found
ourselves on the high table-land toward which we had shaped our course.
It was smooth as a floor and covered with short rich grass. Instead of a
broad road there were about twenty parallel paths stretching on before
us as far as we could see, furrowed by the feet of horses and
pack-mules. Miles away on either side was a line of lofty mountains
whose serrated outlines were sharply defined against the evening sky.
Darkness overtook us on this plateau, and the rest of the journey is a
confused memory of steep ravines down whose sides we cautiously made our
way, torrents of foaming water which we forded, expanses of dark plain,
and at last the murmur of the ocean on the reef. After reaching
sea-level again we passed between acres and acres of taro-patches where
the water mirrored the large bright stars and the arrow-shaped leaves
cast sharp-pointed shadows. We rode through the quiet little village of
Waialua, sleeping beneath the shade of giant pride-of-India and kukui
trees, without meeting any one, and forded the Waialua River just where
it flows over silver sands into the sea. As we paused to let our horses
drink I looked up at the cluster of cocoanut palms that grew upon the
bank, and noticed how distinctly each feathery frond was pencilled
against the sky, then down upon the placid river and out upon the gently
murmuring sea, and thought that I had never gazed upon a more peaceful
scene. Little did I thi