had not lost their novelty--the tropical foliage
of palm, banana, bread-fruit, monkey-pod and algaroba trees; the
dark-skinned, brightly-clad natives with flowers on their heads, who
walked with bare feet and stately tread along the shady sidewalks or
tore through the streets on horseback; the fine stone or wooden
residences with wide cool verandas, or humbler native huts surrounded by
walls of coral-rock instead of fences; the deep indigo-blue ocean on one
hand and the rich green mountains on the other, dripping with moisture
and alternately dark and bright with the gloom of clouds and the glory
of rainbows, still wore for me their original freshness and
interest--when I received an urgent request to come to Waialua, a little
village on the other side of the island. My host, to whom the note was
addressed, explained to me that there was a mission-school at that
place, a seminary for native girls. It was conducted by Miss G----, the
daughter of one of the missionaries who first came to the Hawaiian
Islands fifty years before. She had been sent to this country to be
educated, like most of the children of the early missionaries, and had
returned to devote herself to the mental, moral and physical welfare of
the native girls--a task which she was now accomplishing with all the
fervor, devotion and self-sacrifice of a Mary Lyon.

At this juncture she had forty-five girls, from six to eighteen, under
her care, and but one assistant. The English teacher who had assisted
her for several years had lately married, and the place was still
vacant. She wrote to my host, saying that she had heard there was a
teacher from California at his house, and begging me, through him, to
come and help her a few weeks. I signified my willingness to go, and in
a few days Miss G----, accompanied by a native girl, came on horseback
to meet me and conduct me to Waialua. A gentleman of Honolulu, his
sister and a native woman called Maria, who were going to Waialua and
beyond, joined us, so that our party consisted of six. We were variously
mounted, on horses of different appearance and disposition, and carried
our luggage and lunch in saddle-bags strapped on behind. Maria's outfit
especially interested me. It was the usual costume for native women, and
consisted of a long flowing black garment called a _holoku_, gathered
into a yoke at the shoulders and falling unconfined to her bare feet.
Around her neck she wore a bright red silk handkerchief, and