ur faces toward Honolulu. On either side were lofty mountain-walls,
with perpendicular sides clothed with vivid green and hung with silvery
waterfalls. We were entering the city by Nuannu ("Cold Spring") Valley,
the most delightful and fashionable suburb. Here were Queen Emma's
residence, set in the midst of extensive and beautiful grounds, the
Botanical Gardens, the residence of the American minister, the royal
mausoleum and the house and gardens once occupied by Kalumma, a former
queen. Crowds of gayly-dressed natives galloped past us as we neared the
city, wearing wreaths of fern and flowers. One man carried a half-grown
pig in a rope net attached to his stirrup: it looked tired of life. So,
under the arching algaroba and monkey-pod trees that shade Nuannu
Avenue, and past the royal palms that grace the yards, we rode into
beautiful Honolulu.

LOUISE COFFIN JONES.

FINDELKIND OF MARTINSWAND: A CHILD'S STORY.

There was a little boy a year or two since who lived under the shadow of
Martinswand. Most people know, I should suppose, that the Martinswand is
that mountain in the Oberinnthal where, several centuries ago, brave
Kaiser Max lost his footing as he stalked the chamois and fell upon a
ledge of rock, and stayed there, in mortal peril, for thirty hours, till
he was rescued by the strength and agility of a Tyrol hunter--an angel
in the guise of a hunter, as the chronicles of the time prefer to say.
The Martinswand is a grand mountain, being one of the spurs of the
greater Sonnstein, and rises precipitously, looming, massive and lofty,
like a very fortress for giants, where it stands right across that road
which, if you follow it long enough, takes you on through Zirl to
Landeck--old, picturesque, poetic Landeck, where Frederic of the Empty
Pockets rhymed his sorrows in ballads to his people--and so on, by
Bludenz, into Switzerland itself, by as noble a highway as any traveller
can ever desire to traverse on a summer's day. The Martinswand is within
a mile of the little burg of Zirl, where the people, in the time of
their kaiser's peril, came out with torches and bells, and the Host
lifted up by their priest, and all prayed on their knees underneath the
gaunt pile of limestone, which is the same to-day as it was then, whilst
Kaiser Max is dust. The Martinswand soars up very steep and very
majestic, bare stone at its base and all along its summit crowned with
pine woods; and on the