"WE are ready to hear about
that queer-named place
now, aunty," said Alice
at my elbow as I sat
writing in my room.
Oh, yes, about Kohala.
Every thing at Mr. Bond's was the pink
of neatness, and though we were shut in
by rain for five days, we enjoyed it. Sometimes,
it would look like clearing up, and
we would walk in the garden; but usually
we had to hurry in to escape the rain.
The garden looked beautifully, with some
rose-bushes twenty-five feet in circumference,
and scarlet geraniums perhaps fifteen
feet. It does one good just to look at them,
after seeing only our little dwarf shrubs at
home. Kanoa and his wife, the good
Hawaiian missionaries to Micronesia, came
with their little baby to bid us good-by.
We had mangoes for the first time at Mr.
Bond's, which were delicious. In shape
they are like a pear, only flatter, with the
large end growing next the stem. I can not
describe the taste, it is unlike any thing we
have. The seed is very large, being nearly
two thirds the size of the fruit. Fresh figs,
too, we tried for the first time, and to our
surprise liked them. We had some papaias,
which grow on trees; the fruit tastes like a
musk-melon, and pies made of them are
very much like squash-pies.
Sabbath morning it cleared up about
eleven, so that we could go to church.
Notwithstanding the weather, a goodly congregation
assembled, and listened to grandpa
with great respect and attention. After
meeting, as usual, they all wanted to shake
hands with us. As I was going down the
aisle, thinking I had shaken hands with all,
I heard some one call "keika mahine,
keika mahine" [daughter, daughter], and
looking round, there was an old man standing
up on a seat with his hand stretched
out to shake hands. Of course I must
gratify him. Fortunately for us, Monday,
April 20, was a pleasant day, and we started
about nine o'clock for Waimea across the
mountain. Grandma rode about twelve
miles in Mr. Christianson's wagon, and then
as the wagon-road ended, she went the
remainder of the way on horseback. The
rest of us were in the saddle all the way.
How the wind did blow! It seemed as if
I should be carried out of my saddle bodily;
but we rode on over fields and barren
wastes, and through steep and rocky
gulches. At noon we reached the house of
a foreigner, and were hospitably entertained.
Mr. Lyons was waiting for us there, and
Mr. Bond left us. What was more to us
than dinner, was a feast of home letters,
which Mr. Lyons had brought for us.
After resting an hour or more, we were all
in our saddles again. As we were riding,
on the summit of a hill, or mountain as we
should call it, a beautiful scene opened before
us. High above us the fleecy clouds
parted, and we caught a glimpse of what
seemed like "the promised land." There
stood the peak of a lofty mountain covered
with newly-fallen snow, shining white and
beautiful in the sun's clear beams. It
seemed too high up, too pure and fair in its
framework of clouds, to belong to earth.
This was the summit of Mauna Kea, and
we shall not soon forget that vision of beauty.
It seemed as if angels might flit over its
snowy sides without any danger of soiling
their pure white garments. We arrived at
Mr. Lyons's about five, and were cordially
met by Mrs. L. and her daughter.
On Wednesday, we attended a meeting
at Mr. Lyons's church. The house was
filled with nicely-dressed natives. Grandpa
and Mr. L. sat in front of the pulpit. At
the back of the church was a large choir of
men and women, who sung well and with
animation, beating time with their hands.
Soon after we entered, they sung an
original hymn by a native named Lyana,
which the choir sung to the tune of "Hendon."
"Nani ke aloha la!
Me ka olioli pu
I ka malihini hou—
E aloha, aloha oe.
"Holo oia a maanei,
Mai Amerika mai no,
Eia no! ua komo mai—
E aloha, aloha oe.
"A, ma keia la maikai,
Hui aloha pu kakou,
Ma ka Luakini nei;
E aloha, aloha oe.
"E hauoli, oli pu,
E na hoahanau a pau,
Kane, wahine, keiki no,
E aloha, aloha oe.
"Na ia nei i hoouna mai
I na misioneri nei,
E ao mai ia kakou nei;
E aloha, aloha oe.
"E ala, oli kakou pu,
A kokua aloha no
Ka makua o kakou;—
E aloha, aloha mau."
Mr. Bingham, one of the first missionaries
to the islands, has given us this translation:
"Wonderful that love sincere!
Great our joint rejoicings here,
For the stranger guest we see;
Cordial welcome, friend, to thee.
"Sailing far to reach our homes,
From America he comes;
Lo! in peace he enters here;
Welcome to our hearts sincere.
"Now on this delightful day,
We, in love, unite to pray:
Here beneath our temple spire,
We our welcome give thee, sire.
"Jointly chanting, now rejoice;
Brethren, all unite your voice;
Husbands, wives, and little ones,
Greet this friend with grateful tones.
"This is he who hither sends
These true missionary friends,
To enlighten our dark mind;
Thanks and love to one so kind.
"Let us then all rise and sing,
And our grateful succor bring;
For our sire our love to prove,—
Love, good-will, unceasing love."
Grandpa then made an address, and told
them about the missions in Western Asia.
Then Kanoa, the missionary to Micronesia,
made a prayer; after which, he and his
wife sung a Micronesian hymn. Grandpa
told them, in another short address, about
the India missions. Mr. Lyons then arose
and spoke about his own mission, and introduced
his senior deacon, Timotao Nalanipo,
who made a speech in Hawaiian. Mr.
Lyons translated it, and I will read you the
translation.
"The church-members of the highlands
of Waimea, the old men, the aged women,
the strong men, the youth and children
tender, through me, their salutation to you,
the secretary, your companion, and daughter.
Great, indeed, is our joy in being permitted
to see you, to welcome you to our
land. You have been sent by the learned
Missionary Society of great America, as its
delegate, to see the works of the gospel
heralds you have sent to us.
"We, the ancient men of Kamehameha's
time, were once idolaters, murderers, guilty
of infanticide, polygamy, and constantly
quarreling one with another. On the
death of Kamehameha, the kingdom devolved
on his son Liholiho. He abolished
idolatry, broke the tabus; men and women
for the first time ate together, and the
temples and gods were burned to ashes.
"Still we lived on in poverty and darkness,
and in secret worship of idols, and
were without the knowledge of the living
and true God. Men, women, and children
were promiscuously devoted to the most
sordid pleasures, heathenish dances, and
revelries, day and night. In the year 1820,
the missionaries, Mr. Bingham and company,
came to these islands to proclaim the
blessed gospel to us, who knew not God,
nor had heard of the death of Jesus, the
Messiah, the Saviour of the world. It was
you, the Missionary Society you represent,
that loved us, and sent the good missionaries
to our dark land.
"The king and his premier allowed the
missionaries to dwell with us to introduce
a new order of things; to teach us first the
twelve letters of the alphabet, then spelling,
then reading and writing.
"During the forty-three years the missionaries
have resided on the islands, much
seed has been sown, much labor performed,
and wonderful have been the results. We
were once all dark, buried in darkness, sunk
to the lowest depths of ignorance, roaming
about the fields and woods, like wild beasts,
without clothing, our naked bodies most
shamefully exposed and blackened by the
sun, without books, without Bibles, without
Christianity, plunging into the darkness of
hell. Now we are clothed, like civilized
beings; we are Christianized; we are gathered
into churches; we are intelligent;
we are supplied with books, Bibles and
hymn-books; and are living for God and for
heaven; and this through the labors of the
missionaries you have sent us.
"Our joy is inexpressible in seeing you;
and we beg you to carry back to your associates,
to the Missionary Society, to all the
American churches connected with it, the
warmest salutations of the churches of
Waimea and Hamakua."
This good old man has since died, and
gone, doubtless, to be with his Lord whom
he so long loved and served.
At the close of the Hawaiian address,
another original native hymn was sung,
composed by Samuela, and sung to the tune
of "Farewell, farewell is a lonely sound."
"Auwe; auwe; aloha la
Ka malihini hou
Ma keia la hauoli nei
Ua hui pu kakou.
"Auwe; auwe; aloha la
Ka malihini hou
A eia la ua komo mai
Ka luakini nei.
"Auwe; auwe; aloha la
Ka malihini hou
A na ia nei i hoouna mai
Na misionari nei.
"Auwe; auwe; aloha la
Ka ekalesia nei
Kane, wahine, kamalii
Kokua pu kakou.
"Auwe; auwe; aloha la
Ka makua a kakou
Aloha a mahalo pu
Ka malihini hou."
Mr. Lyons translated it for us:—
"Oh! oh! we'll welcome you, sire,
The stranger we now greet.
This is a gladsome day, sire;
For we together meet.
"Oh! oh! we'll welcome you, sire,
The stranger of whom we've heard;
Lo! now with us you enter here,
This temple of the Lord.
"Oh! oh! we'll welcome you, sire,
The stranger to our land;
'Twas you who loved and sent to us
The missionary band.
"Oh! oh! we'll welcome you, sire,
Say all the brethren here,
Men, women, and the children, sire,
Unite in love sincere.
"Oh! oh! we'll welcome you, sire,
Our father and our friend;
Our best respects and wishes has
This stranger to our land."
After this was sung, we shook hands
with nearly all in the church. Many,
to our embarrassment, brought little tokens
of good-will in money, amounting in all to
ten dollars. With this we bought Hawaiian
Bibles to be distributed among the
people. Imagine a man, coming up to
shake hands, but stopping before he did it
diving his hand into the pocket of his
pantaloons, taking out a quarter of a dollar
and laying it on the table, then shaking
hands as if he had paid for it! They have,
however, none of that feeling.
The tea-bell! the tea-bell!
