the Kinau. Thirty years ago travel in Hawaii was attended not only with discomfort but with danger. I am told that Capt. Clark is one of the most careful of ship officers in the islands, that he knows latitude and longitude off by heart, and can lay his finger on, and keep his boat off, the smallest rock in the archipelago.

We reached Kawaihae Bay, a place on the northwest coast of Hawaii, seventy miles from Maalaea, early in the morning. Being to leeward, the water became quiet, and we stopped rolling at once. Kawaihae is a small collection of houses near the shore, and was once a port for whalers. The ruins of a large temple built by Kamehameha I. are seen from the ship's side. The coast is dreary, being covered with lava waste barely hidden by grass. We discharged freight here, notified Hilo of our coming, and got a good view of Mauna Kea, Mauna Loa, and Hualalai in the morning light.

Steaming north, we came to Mahukona, the terminus of a twenty-mile railroad that runs through Kohala to Pololu, along the coast. It crosses seventeen bridges, one of them eighty-four feet high, and carried one year 20,000 tons of freight and 6,000 passengers. While we were there the train came in with quite a continental splutter. The Kohala Mountains, 5,000 feet high, are seen from here, and part of the road that goes to Hilo, seventy miles away, between telephone poles. One may go to Hilo overland, if desired. From here on, the coast is rockier at the sea, breaking away toward the mountain in a gradual slope covered with sugar cane, and dotted here and there with pretty villages, the most conspicuous feature of which is the mill. North Kohala has five sugar mills, and cultivates about 13,000 acres of land. It was good old Father Bond's district; here he worked, and started as a humanitarian enterprise the first sugar plantation in the field.

On the grounds of the Ainakea school, near by, is a statue of the first Kamehameha. It was ordered by and made for the Government House in Honolulu, intended to occupy a place in front of the Judiciary Building, so admirably filled by the present bronze statue, but the vessel carrying it burned and

sank off the Falkland Isles. After a replica had been placed in position, some captain hauled up the original statue (with one hand gone) from its chilly depths and brought it to Honolulu. The Government purchased the statue the second time, and sent for an extra hand that was fastened in the right place; then the monument was taken to Kohala to grace the birthplace of Hawaii's favorite king.

Here, too, is a temple at Punepu, now partly broken down, 300 feet in length, 50 feet across, with wall 14 feet high and 30 feet thick at the base. It is said that the stones were passed from man to man, along a line reaching to Pololu, twelve miles away. South of this are the salubrious plains of Waimea, reaching as high as 4,000 feet.

At South Kohala there is quite an English colony. During court time it is very lively. A friend of ours stayed there some days with a bachelor host. The evening after his arrival, his reverend entertainer said very off-handedly, "I take my mohning bah-th at hah-f pah-st six; when would you like to take you-ahs?" Catching his breath in anticipation of the cold plunge, my friend, who is a very accommodating person, replied as naturally as he could, "Seven o'clock;" thinking that perhaps the water would be warmer by that time. But it wasn't; it came down almost as cold as ice, and turned the bather's lips the color of the prints he had been making. Determined not to punish himself any more, but unwilling to gain the contempt of his cleanly friend, he entered the bathroom punctually at seven o'clock each morning, sat down on the edge of the tub for half an hour and read "Quo Vadis," then came out to breakfast. 'Ah you refreshed?" asked the solicitous host. "Oh, greatly," answered our friend. When he came to leave this kind entertainer the latter gave him seven razors to have sharpened in Honolulu, calling his attention to the Friday razor that was nicked. "Why do you call that a Friday razor?" asked our friend. "Oh, don't you know,” answered the clergyman, “I hah-ve two sets of razohs of seven in a set, thah being a razoh foh each day of the week. I nevah use a Monday razoh on Tewsday, and vice versa.”

The Hilo spirit of to-day is progressive and, like the neighboring volcano, cannot be repressed. As an example, I have only to mention that on the second evening after my arrival I happened along at the close of a Kauai Kodak Klub meeting to find Mr. Hopkins speaking upon the subject of latitude. He said that his section on geography had done a great deal of work, sitting up a whole night in deliberation, because it wished to advance the cause of science one point farther than Honolulu had brought it. One member had suggested that the small item of Hilo's latitude be increased the one-tenth of a second. He had replied that, with all his love for progress, he could not sanction so radical a change. An earthquake could do this gracefully, but no human hand must temper with it. It might arouse the criticism of a Royal Geographer or of the local representative. He declared that Lord Bacon was right when he said that the desire for reform should bring about the change, and not the love of change bring about the reform. He thought that even in Hilo more latitude would be unwise.

I started for the lava flow of 1881, and on the hill passed a group of convicts working under an officer. They were dressed in their prison garb: half brown and half blue jean suits for those convicted of misdemeanor, perpendicular stripes of white and blue for the felons.

The lava flow, which I soon reached, began in 1880 from the eastern side of the Mauna Loa at a height of 11,100 feet above the sea, flowing for nine months toward Hilo, and finally stopping three-quarters of a mile from town, after everybody had packed their trunks ready to leave. Twenty-six years before, from a point 1,000 feet higher, a flow, in some places two miles wide, advanced toward Hilo, moving slowly for fifteen months and then subsiding. From June, 1833, to May, 1867, says Dr. Coan, there were 173 earthquake shocks recorded in Hilo.

The ride from the Volcano House to Punaluu is over a good road, passing another half-way rest and reaching the landing of the local steamer. At Kapapala a landslide occurred years ago, and in 1868 an earthquake and a tidal wave ex