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Title: Our Little Hawaiian Cousin

Author: Mary Hazelton Blanchard Wade

Illustrator: L. J. Bridgman

Release date: August 14, 2013 [eBook #43462]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Emmy, Beth Baran and the Online Distributed
        Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUR LITTLE HAWAIIAN COUSIN ***




Produced by Emmy, Beth Baran and the Online Distributed
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Our Little Hawaiian Cousin




THE Little Cousin Series

(TRADE MARK)

    Each volume illustrated with six or more full-page plate
    in tint. Cloth, 12mo, with decorative cover,
    per volume, 60 cents


LIST OF TITLES

BY MARY HAZELTON WADE

(unless otherwise indicated)

    =Our Little African Cousin=
    =Our Little Alaskan Cousin=
        By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
    =Our Little Arabian Cousin=
        By Blanche McManus
    =Our Little Armenian Cousin=
    =Our Little Australian Cousin=
        By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
    =Our Little Brazilian Cousin=
        By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
    =Our Little Brown Cousin=
    =Our Little Canadian Cousin=
        By Elizabeth R. MacDonald
    =Our Little Chinese Cousin=
        By Isaac Taylor Headland
    =Our Little Cuban Cousin=
    =Our Little Dutch Cousin=
        By Blanche McManus
    =Our Little Egyptian Cousin=
        By Blanche McManus
    =Our Little English Cousin=
        By Blanche McManus
    =Our Little Eskimo Cousin=
    =Our Little French Cousin=
        By Blanche McManus
    =Our Little German Cousin=
    =Our Little Greek Cousin=
        By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
    =Our Little Hawaiian Cousin=
    =Our Little Hindu Cousin=
        By Blanche McManus
    =Our Little Indian Cousin=
    =Our Little Irish Cousin=
    =Our Little Italian Cousin=
    =Our Little Japanese Cousin=
    =Our Little Jewish Cousin=
    =Our Little Korean Cousin=
        By H. Lee M. Pike
    =Our Little Mexican Cousin=
        By Edward C. Butler
    =Our Little Norwegian Cousin=
    =Our Little Panama Cousin=
        By H. Lee M. Pike
    =Our Little Philippine Cousin=
    =Our Little Porto Rican Cousin=
    =Our Little Russian Cousin=
    =Our Little Scotch Cousin=
        By Blanche McManus
    =Our Little Siamese Cousin=
    =Our Little Spanish Cousin=
        By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
    =Our Little Swedish Cousin=
        By Claire M. Coburn
    =Our Little Swiss Cousin=
    =Our Little Turkish Cousin=


    L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
    New England Building,       Boston, Mass.

[Illustration: AUWAE]



Our Little Hawaiian Cousin

By Mary Hazelton Wade

    _Illustrated by_
    L. J. Bridgman

[Illustration]

    Boston
    L. C. Page & Company
    _PUBLISHERS_




    _Copyright, 1902_

    By L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
    (INCORPORATED)

    _All rights reserved_


    Published, June, 1902
    Seventh Impression, May, 1909




Preface


FAR out in the broad island-dotted and island-fringed Pacific Ocean lies
an island group known as the Hawaiian or Sandwich Islands.

The brave voyager Captain Cook, who discovered these Hawaiian Islands,
found living there a brown-skinned people, whose descendants live there
to this day. Indeed, most of the island dwellers in the Pacific are of
the brown race, which we know as one of the great divisions of the human
family.

As the years passed by, the brown people living on the Hawaiian Islands
came into closer relations with America. The islands are on the line of
trade and travel between America and Asia. Our missionaries went there,
and the people welcomed them gladly.

At length the time came when the Hawaiian Islands asked the greatest of
the American nations, our United States, to receive them into her
family; for they saw that they could not govern themselves as wisely
alone as with her help. Thus these brown, childlike people came to be
among the youngest of the adopted children of our nation.

Our government has accepted a great trust in undertaking to care for
these people who are of a different race and who live far from our
shores. We shall all of us feel much interest in seeing that our adopted
brothers and sisters are treated kindly, wisely, and well. We shall not
forget that, far apart as they are from us in distance and by race
descent, they are yet our kindred. So we shall be doubly glad to meet
and know our little Hawaiian cousin.




CONTENTS


    CHAPTER                             PAGE
       I. A HAPPY CHILD                    9
      II. AN OUTDOOR KITCHEN              17
     III. SURF-RIDING                     26
      IV. QUARTERLY REVIEW                35
       V. AUWAE'S SCHOOL                  45
      VI. LONG AGO                        52
     VII. THE COMING OF THE WHITE MAN     59
    VIII. THE DIVER                       68
      IX. STORIES OF OLDEN TIME           77
       X. UP THE MOUNTAIN                 85
      XI. THE VOLCANO                     92




List of Illustrations


                                                          PAGE
    AUWAE                                           _Frontispiece_
    "IT IS A LOW BUILDING WHOSE SIDES AND HIGH
          SLOPING ROOF ARE THATCHED WITH GRASSES"          13
    "THE PARTY SIT ON THE GRASS IN A CIRCLE"               22
    "AUWAE AND UPA DARED TO PEEP INSIDE"                   41
    "A LITTLE STREAM WHERE TWO WOMEN ARE WASHING"          47
    "IT IS LIKE A LONG, GRAND TOBOGGAN SLIDE"              75





Our Little Hawaiian Cousin





CHAPTER I.

A HAPPY CHILD.


LITTLE Auwae is beautiful; but, better than that, much better, she has
no thought of it herself.

She sits in front of her low cottage home singing a soft sweet song,
weaving a garland of scarlet flowers to adorn her head. As she carefully
places each bud on the string, she looks up at the American flag
floating in the breezes not far away.

The schoolmaster of the village tells her it is in honour of George
Washington, the greatest man of the United States; that if he had not
lived, America would not be what she is to-day, and she might not have
been able to give Hawaii the help needed when trouble came.

But what cares little Auwae for all this? What difference does it make
to her that her island home, the land of beauty and of flowers, is under
American rule? To be sure, a few of the "grown-ups" in the place look
sober for a moment when they speak of the change since the old days of
Hawaii's kings; but the sadness passes in a moment, and the gentle,
happy child-people turn again to their joys and sports.

Auwae has shining brown eyes, and, as she smiles at the homely little
dog curled up at her side, one can see two rows of beautiful white
teeth. Her skin, although of such a dark brown, is so clear and lustrous
one cannot help admiring it. The girl is not afraid of tan or freckles.
She rarely wears any head covering save a garland of flowers, if that
could be called such; but she bathes herself frequently with cocoanut
oil, which makes the skin soft and shiny.

She takes an abundance of exercise in the open air; she swims like the
fabled mermaid; she rides for miles at a time over the rough mountain
passes on the back of her favourite horse. It is no wonder that this
plump little maiden of ten years is the picture of health and grace.

Her home is a perfect bower. It stands in a grove of tall cocoa-palms,
whose beauty cannot be imagined by those who live in the temperate lands
and who see them growing only in the hothouses. They are tall and
stately, yet graceful as the willow; their long, curved stems reach up
sixty, seventy, sometimes even one hundred feet toward the sky, then
spread out into a magnificent plume of leaves from twelve to twenty feet
in length. The breeze makes low, sweet music as it moves gently across
the tree-tops and keeps company with Auwae's song.

[Illustration: "IT IS A LOW BUILDING WHOSE SIDES AND HIGH SLOPING ROOF
ARE THATCHED WITH GRASSES"]

Beneath the trees the grass is of the most vivid green, mixed with
delicate ferns; the garden in front of the house is filled with gorgeous
flowering plants,--roses, lilies, oleanders, geraniums, tuberoses,
scenting the air with their perfume; besides many others known only in
tropical lands.

The garden wall at the side is hidden by masses of the night-blooming
cereus, which is such a curiosity in our own country that often many
people gather to watch the opening of a single flower.

Vines hanging full of the scarlet passion-flower drape the veranda on
which Auwae sits. When she has finished her wreath, she crowns her long
hair with it, and turns to go into the house.

She makes a pretty picture, the little girl with her simple white
dress, beneath which the bare brown feet are seen,--those feet which
have never yet been pressed out of shape by stiff, tight casings of
leather.

I call it a house, yet many speak of it as a hut. It is a low building
whose sides and high sloping roof are thatched with grasses. Few such
are made nowadays in Hawaii, for the people are fast following the
example of the white settlers, and now build their cottages of wood, and
divide them into rooms, so that they look like the homes commonly found
in New England villages.

Auwae's father, however, clings to the old fashions of his people, and
his little daughter has always lived in this beautiful grass house. The
frame was made of bamboo poles fastened together by ropes of palm-leaf
fibres. Days were spent in gathering the grasses for thatching the sides
and roof of the house. They were woven into beautiful patterns for the
roof. It was necessary to choose skilful workmen who knew just how to
finish the corners, for the heavy rains of the tropics must not be given
a chance to soak through the outside and make it damp within. When it
was finished the house looked like a large bird's nest upside down.

Strange as it may seem, there is no floor in the house, but the ground
is paved with stones. It is nearly covered with large mats. Some of
these are made with rushes, while others have been woven from leaves of
the pandanus-tree. They are stained in bright colours and odd patterns.
A large screen of woven pandanus leaves divides the sleeping portion
from the rest of the house.

There is no furniture, unless one can call by such a name the great
number of mats in the corner. They serve for couches, bedspreads, and
screens. In one corner is a collection of gourds and bowls, or
calabashes, as they are called. Some of them are polished highly and
prettily ornamented. If Auwae's father desired to do so, he could sell
these calabashes to the American "curio" collector for a goodly sum of
money; but he will not part with a single one. They are of all sizes,
from that of a tiny teacup to the great "company" calabash, which holds
at least ten gallons.

When there are many visitors at Auwae's home, this calabash is used at
meal-time. It will hold enough food to satisfy the appetites of a large
party.

The greatest treasure stands at one side near the wall. It looks like a
mammoth dust-brush, but it is a sacred thing in this Hawaiian family. It
is the mark of chieftainship. None other than a chief had, in the old
days, a right to own such a thing, under the penalty of death. The long
handle of polished bone is topped by a large plume of peacock feathers.
The ancient kings of Hawaii were always attended by bearers carrying
"Kahilis," as the people call them, and two enormous plumes stood at the
threshold of their homes. No common person could pass by this sign of
royalty or chieftainship, and enter a dwelling so marked, unless he were
bidden.





CHAPTER II.

AN OUTDOOR KITCHEN.


AUWAE does not linger within the house, but follows a sound of talking
and laughter in the grove behind the house. There she finds her mother
and grandmother, together with a number of the neighbouring women. They,
too, are weaving garlands, for they wish to decorate their husbands when
they come home to dinner.

Auwae's mother is making her wreath of bright orange-coloured seeds
taken from the fruit of the pandanus. She wears a garland like Auwae's,
except that she has used flowers of another colour. She has wound a
beautiful vine around her waist and throat, which sets off her loose red
dress to perfection. She is a fat woman, but as beauty is often measured
by size among the Hawaiians, she must be considered quite handsome.

What is it that makes her look so different from her white sisters? It
is not the brown skin, bare feet, and flowing hair like her daughter's.
It must be her happiness and the grace of all her movements. She seems
to be actually without a care as she leans back in the grass and pats
her little daughter's head. Her laugh is just as joyous as Auwae's. Her
hands do not bear the marks of labour, but are soft and dimpled as a
child's.

She, a grown woman, is idly making wreaths in company with her
neighbours, instead of cooking and sweeping, dusting and sewing for the
family! Think of it and wonder. But then, you say, this is a holiday;
why should they not be idle and gay? The fact is, all days are like this
to the Hawaiian mother, who lives the life of a grown-up child. The
world does not seem so serious as some people think. It is a happy
dream, and mother and child and neighbour dance and sing, swim and ride,
in sunshine and in rain alike.

This reminds me that in their language there is no word for _weather_.
It is continual summer there unless one climb high up on the
mountainsides; and as for rain, it does not worry the people, for can
they not dry themselves in the clear air that follows? There is,
therefore, no need of this disagreeable word which one hears so often in
some parts of America. All days are alike to the Hawaiians.

Auwae's mother has no servant, for there is little housework to be done
in her home. The grass hut is scarcely used except for sleeping
purposes. Both cooking and eating are done out-of-doors. The little
girl's father has built an oven in the ground near the house, with
enough room in it to roast the food for his own family as well as two or
three of his neighbours.

[Illustration: "THE PARTY SIT ON THE GRASS IN A CIRCLE"]

He dug a pit in the ground and lined it with stones. Whenever cooking
needs to be done, he fills this pit full of wood, which he sets on fire.
When the stones are sufficiently heated, the pig, chickens, or beef, and
the taro, or sweet potatoes, are wrapped up in leaves and placed in the
oven; a little water is thrown over them so they will steam. Then the
hole is covered over tightly, and the food is slowly and nicely baked.

Auwae's dinner has been cooking all the morning, and it is nearly time
for it to be served. What do you think shall be done to prepare for it?
Who of the company will stop her chattering and garland-making long
enough to set the table?

As among the brown people of Borneo, there is nothing to do except to
uncover the oven, take out the food, and place it on the grassy
table-cloth, while Auwae runs into the house for some calabashes. There
must be a large one to hold the "poi," and a smaller one for
drinking-water. No plates are needed.

For to-day's dinner there is a roast of beef to eat with the poi, and
delicious cocoanut milk takes the place of the coffee sometimes drunk.
For dessert there are the most delicious wild strawberries, which ripen
all the year round in this favoured island of the Pacific.

If Auwae wished, she could have a banana or a fresh pineapple, but she
is easily satisfied. Think of it! there are forty different fruits
growing near her house. One can easily understand how there is little
work in providing food, and how little cooking is needed to keep the
body in good health.

And now Auwae's father and several other men join the women. The
garlands of flowers are placed around their necks and on their heads,
and the party sit on the grass in a circle around the bowl of steaming
poi.

But how do they eat? The poi, a sticky paste, is the principal dish.
Surely something must be used to carry it to the mouth. That is true,
and the fingers serve this very purpose. One after another, or all
together, however it may happen, the company dip into the great calabash
and skilfully roll balls of the paste on their forefingers, bringing it
to their mouths without dropping a particle. Poi is called "one-finger,"
"two-finger," or "three-finger," according to the thickness of the
paste.

But what is poi? is asked. It is the food best liked by the Hawaiian,
and takes the place of the bread of the white people. It is either pink
or lavender in colour. In the old days, pink poi was a royal dish, as it
was only made for kings and queens. The different kinds are all made
from the root of the taro plant. A small patch of this very valuable
plant will supply a large family with all the food they really need for
a whole year.

The principal work of the little girl's father is to tend his taro patch
and keep each little hillock surrounded by water. From the time of
planting until the ripening of the beet-like bulbs, he watches it with
the most loving care. When fully ripe, he pulls up the plants and bakes
the bulbs in his underground oven.

When they have been sufficiently dried, he prepares for his most
difficult task by stripping himself of his cotton shirt and trousers.
You remember that the climate here is a warm one, and when the man is
working hard he suffers much from the heat.

He now takes the baked taro and puts it on a wooden platter and beats
it with a heavy stone pestle. From time to time he dips his hands into
water as they grow sticky from handling the pasty mass. After he has
pounded it for a long time, he puts it into calabashes, adds water, and
sets it away for several days to ferment.

He grows very tired before his work is over, but does it gladly, rather
than do without his favourite food. It would not suit us, I fear, as it
tastes very much like sour buckwheat paste. In Hawaii white people often
eat the taro root sliced and boiled or baked, but they seldom touch it
when prepared in the native fashion.

Now let us return to Auwae's dinner-table. The food is quickly eaten,
after which the little girl passes a calabash of water around among the
company. It is to serve as a finger-bowl. Does this surprise you? Ah!
but you must remember these Hawaiians ate with their fingers. These same
fingers are now sticky with poi, and as the people are natural lovers of
water, they are fond of having every part of their bodies spotless.

A pipe and tobacco are passed around for a smoke. These people, so
cleanly in some other ways, do not object to using the one pipe in
common. The women put away the food, and the company prepare for a
picnic at the shore but a short distance from the house. They will spend
the afternoon in surf-bathing, and all of them will perform feats in the
water that would astonish the best swimmers in other countries.





CHAPTER III.

SURF-RIDING.


AUWAE has a loved playmate, Upa, a boy a little older than herself. He
goes with the party to the beach. Carrying their surf-boards under their
arms, the two children hurry ahead to the beach of shining white coral
sand. Look! The broad Pacific now stretches out before their eyes. How
blue are the waters, reaching out in the distance till they seem to meet
a sky just as blue and clear of a passing cloud! How the hot sunshine
beats down upon the sand! Yet Auwae does not seem to mind it. She stoops
to pick a wild morning-glory growing almost at the water's edge, and
then dances about, saying to Upa:

"Hurrah! The waves are just fine to-day for bathing, aren't they?"

We almost hold our breath at the thought of these children trusting
themselves out in the high waves rushing in from the coral reef a
quarter of a mile outside. Then, too, we know there are sharks in these
waters; and what a terrible death would be Auwae's if one of these
creatures should grind her between his many teeth!

As to the sharks, we need not fear, as they never venture nearer than
the coral reefs, which seem to be a wall beyond which they dare not
pass. And as for the water! why, when we have once seen Auwae swim, we
can no longer fear for her safety. It seems as though water, instead of
land, must be her natural abiding-place.

But now the rest of the party have arrived, bringing with them their
surf-boards, or wave-sliding-boards, as we might call them.

For those living on Hawaii's shore, much of the pleasure of life
depends on these pieces of wood so carefully prepared. They are made
from the strong, tough trunk of the breadfruit-tree, are highly
polished, and about two feet wide. They look very much like coffin lids,
and are long enough for one to stretch at length upon them.

It takes but a few moments to remove their clothing and put on their
bathing-costumes. For the men, it is the malo, a piece of cloth wound
about the loins and between the legs, and, before the white people came,
the only garment worn by them at any time.

All are now ready for the sport. They wade out into deep water with the
surf-boards under their arms. Then, pushing them in front, they swim out
till they reach the breakers, when they suddenly dive and disappear from
view.

There is no sign of them for several moments. Now look far out and you
can see their black heads bobbing about in the smooth water beyond the
waves. Watch them carefully as they wait for that great roller about to
turn toward the shore. They leap upon its crest, lying flat upon their
boards, and are borne to the beach with the speed of the wind.

It must be grand sport, once they know just how and when to take
advantage of the incoming wave, as well as the still greater skill in
riding on that wave without being swallowed by it. It is harder to
succeed than one imagines before trying the experiment himself, for the
swimmers are obliged to use their hands and feet constantly to keep
themselves in place.

Some of them do not even rest on the shore before swimming out for
another wave slide; and as the afternoon passes they rival each other in
more and more daring feats. See those two men no longer lying flat on
their boards as they rush onward in the water! They only kneel, and wave
their arms and shout in glee to their companions. But most daring of all
is Auwae's father, who actually stands erect as he is borne toward the
shore on the crest of a huge wave. He travels at a rate sufficient to
deprive one of breath.

The kind man takes time during the afternoon to give Auwae lessons in
riding her own board, which he has lately made for her. Up to this time
she has had to be content with swimming only, and in this, as I told
you, she is already wonderfully skilful and graceful.

The hours pass only too quickly, and night suddenly shuts down upon the
happy people. The moon comes out in such beauty as is seen only in the
tropics. It bathes sea and shore in a soft, sweet light, so pleasant
after the dazzling brightness of the sun. Auwae and Upa once more lead
the party as they wander slowly homeward and again enter the shadow of
the tall palm-trees.

The children look toward the mountains behind the village reaching up
so grandly till their tops are lost in the clouds, and Upa says:

"Auwae, do you know that my father is going to Kilauea next week, and he
says I may go with him. Ask your father if you may go, too. It will be
such fun!"

Auwae has wished a long, long time for such a chance as this. She claps
her hands in delight, as she feels quite sure of her parents' consent.

Kilauea! She has heard so much about the mighty crater. Even now she can
see a faint reddish gleam light up the sky in the distance. The largest
active volcano in the world is showing that it is still alive and using
the mighty forces directed from the very bowels of the earth.[1]

It would almost seem as if Auwae would feel fear at living in the
shadow of a volcano. Is she not sometimes awakened in the night by the
low rumbling sound coming to her through the clear air? And does she not
then lie trembling at the thought that she may sometime be swallowed up
in a tremendous flow of lava? Other children in towns like hers have met
such a fate in the years that are gone. Why should she not fear?

But Auwae was born here, and has always lived where she could see the
light from that huge furnace of Nature. She is so used to it that she
does not dread its power. She lives in the joy of the present, and does
not consider that which might possibly come to her.

Think of it! This home of hers and its sister islands are the children
of volcanoes, for they were born of fierce explosions of lava, thrown
above the surrounding waters from the floor of the sea. Foot by foot
Hawaii has been built up out of the water. Layer after layer of lava has
been poured, one above the other; then, cooling and crumbling, a soil
has been formed on which the beautiful plants and trees of the tropics
have taken root.

But this is not the whole story of the island, for tiny creatures of the
sea have given what was in their power. The coral reefs lying along the
shore have been built up by the growth of millions of polyps, and the
shining white sand is composed of finely ground coral, which once formed
the skeletons of similar polyps.

What curious helpers Mother Nature sometimes chooses! Think of the
coral polyps and their strange lives, leaving when they die a foundation
upon which men and animals shall afterward have a home! Upa often dives
for the sprays of coral, pink or white. He sells them to the white
people in the village, who send them as curiosities to other countries.

Auwae and Upa bid each other good night at the garden wall. The little
girl stops for a moment at the pond in the garden where many goldfish
are moving about in the moonlight. She loves her beautiful fish; she
feeds them every day, and often thinks how kind her father was to make
the pond for her delight.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: This volcano is not constantly, but intermittently, in
eruption.]




CHAPTER IV.

QUARTERLY REVIEW.


AS she stands beside the beautiful clear water, an unpleasant thought
comes into her mind. It was only yesterday that some white travellers
came through the village on horseback. A little girl about Auwae's own
age was in the party. She was very pretty. Her cheeks were pink and
white; her hair was like the golden sunlight; her eyes were as clear and
blue as the waters surrounding the beautiful island.

"Why wasn't I made white?" the little brown girl said to herself. "If I
should bathe myself over and over again, it would make no difference. I
should never look like her. Oh, dear, I will ask mother why God made us
so different."

She ran quickly back down the pathway till she met her mother.

"Mamma," she whispered, "I think you are just lovely as you are, but
still I do wish I had been born to look like the little American girl I
saw yesterday on horseback."

"My dear one," answered her mother, "God is love, and all are alike to
Him. In the fields around us He has made flowers of many kinds and
colours. Some roses are red, and some are white, yet the red and the
white are equally admired. So it is with the people who share His life.
Some are of one colour, some another; they are all needed to give
variety and beauty to the world. All are equally His work. Be happy and
contented, my darling, and think no more about it."

Auwae's eyes grow bright again as her mother speaks. The shadow passes
away, and she is her own joyous self again.

"Of course it is all right. I'm glad I'm just what I am," she exclaims.
"And yet, mamma, when Christmas comes, I believe I should like a white
doll that would look like that little girl. I could have such fun
playing with her and curling her hair. You know we often put red and
white roses in the same bowl, and they look very pretty together."

"All right, I will remember your wish when the time comes," laughs her
good-natured mother, while Auwae hastens away, half dancing, half
running.

She must certainly hurry to bed now, for to-morrow is a school day, and
she wishes to wake early in the morning. The moon shines so brightly
to-night that Auwae can easily see to undress by it and stretch upon the
floor the strip of tapa which serves for her bed. If it were dark,
however, she would use an odd candle that she herself made. It is formed
of candlenuts strung together. They grew near Auwae's home, and are so
much like wax they burn readily. I should much prefer them to a calabash
of beef fat with a rag for a wick, which is sometimes used by Auwae's
mother.

"Now I lay me down to sleep," repeats the gentle child, as she kneels in
her little corner, and is soon fast asleep.

Where did Auwae learn this prayer? It was in the white church in the
village. There the old Hawaiian minister tells his little flock every
Sunday of the One True God, and of the loving Friend who said: "Suffer
little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the
kingdom of heaven."

Auwae loves her Sunday school; she delights in the music of the organ
and the songs she learns there. Every three months there is a grand
celebration in the church. It is called "Quarterly Review." All the
children in the country for miles around come flocking into Auwae's
village. It is such a pretty sight, as the boys and girls come marching
over the hillsides! The girls are dressed in white, and everybody wears
a wreath and festoons of bright flowers. Sometimes they sing as they
march along.

By ten o'clock in the morning the church is closely packed and the music
begins. There is song after song, after which the children are called
one by one to the platform to speak pieces and recite Bible verses. The
ones who have learned most receive the prizes. Auwae won a prize at the
last quarterly review. It is a picture of the infant Jesus giving water
to his cousin John from a shell. No doubt you have seen a copy of it.
Auwae thinks it is a lovely picture. It is the only one of any kind in
her house.

The quarterly review lasts the whole day. The children do not get
tired, however. They have a picnic dinner under the trees behind the
church; then they are ready for more songs, and speak more pieces, until
the round red sun in the west says:

[Illustration: "AUWAE AND UPA DARED TO PEEP INSIDE"]

"Come, my little ones, hurry homeward quickly. Many of you have miles of
walking before you, and I cannot show you the way much longer."

Then Auwae bids her friends good-bye. She will not again see some of
them till three months more have passed.

Aloha! Aloha! echoes back from the hill-tops, and our little girl turns
again to her own lovely nest under the palm-trees. How different
everything is now from the old days of Auwae's people! Her grandmother
has told her about the hideous idols they used to worship.

There is an old heathen temple but a few miles from her home, and
once, just once, Auwae and Upa dared to peep inside; then they ran away
with all their might, for fear that somehow those long rows of ugly
figures might become alive and follow them.

Think of it! less than a hundred years ago not only animals, but human
beings, little children even, were sacrificed to hideous wooden and
stone idols.

The people were in constant terror of the god of the shark, the goddess
of the volcano, and other fearful beings who were ever ready, as they
thought, to bring destruction upon them. Besides these, there were great
giants and monsters whose anger must be satisfied by offerings of
animals and men.

"How glad I am that I live now instead of a hundred years ago," says
Auwae to Upa many times, as she thinks of Pele, the goddess of the
volcano Kilauea. "Grandma has told me of her own mother, who really
believed that Pele lived far down in the fiery crater, that she was the
ruler and queen of fire. She thought that other spirits, too, lived
there. There was the spirit of steam, the spirit of the thunderbolt, the
spirit of strength, and I don't know how many other terrible beings. And
oh, what times those spirits had together in the flames, dancing and
making merry! But if the people forgot to bring Pele their offerings of
hogs and bananas and all sorts of presents, she would get fearfully
angry, and roar and threaten to overflow the country with lava. They
would get very much frightened, and hasten to the summit of the volcano
with the best they had."

And then perhaps Upa answers, "Please don't speak of those awful days
any more. I like best to think of the time when our people turned from
such ideas of their own accord, saying they were just nonsense. But,
really, it must have taken a brave woman to do what Queen Kapiolani did.
You know she walked right up the side of the mountain with her trembling
followers, and kept on till she reached the very mouth of the crater,
and then dared Pele to do her worst. She turned to her followers, and
said: 'I do not believe in Pele! If there is no such being, no harm will
come.' Of course, the people expected the fiery waves to leap up and
swallow them, but nothing did happen, you know.

"Hurrah for the old queen's pluck, I say. After that, women dared to eat
bananas and do many other things the priests had forbidden to all but
men, saying it would make the gods angry. How silly the people used to
be in those days!"

Then both children are still for a moment as they think lovingly of the
good missionaries who came to their land just as their own people had
given up idols. The good men and women came to tell them something
better than they had ever known,--something to drive fear from their
hearts, to destroy the cruel power of the priests, and to bring freedom
of mind and body. What was it? The love of God!





CHAPTER V.

AUWAE'S SCHOOL.


ON the morning after the picnic the little brown maiden is awake bright
and early. After her breakfast of poi and yams she weaves a wreath of
fresh flowers for her head, and, taking her books under her arm, begins
her walk to the village school. Her way leads past Upa's home, and the
boy is already waiting for her. As she comes near he shouts:

"Oh, Auwae, I have something to show you. You've got time to stop a few
minutes without being late to school. Come with me."

And the boy leads the way down a path to a tree covered with vines
trailing from the topmost branches to the ground. It makes a perfect
bower of the sweet-smelling blossoms; but it is not this Upa wishes to
show. He leads Auwae close to the trunk of the tree and bids her look
straight upward to an odd nest gnawed in the trunk far above them. From
the hole two bright eyes are peering down at the children. They belong
to a large rat that has made his home in the tree; perhaps he did this
to be sure of safety from small boys. Or possibly it was to secure
himself from the raids of the mongoose, so common in Hawaii nowadays.

[Illustration: "A LITTLE STREAM WHERE TWO WOMEN ARE WASHING"]

"Poor little fellow," says Auwae, "I don't blame him. Father says that a
good many rats live in the trees near here, but I never saw them there
before. And father says, too, that the white men brought the mongoose
here from India to drive out the rats, but the little fellows are not
satisfied with killing them off; they want our chickens, too. It's a
perfect shame. I wish they had stayed in their own country."

As the children now hurry on their way, they are obliged to cross a
little stream where two women are washing. There are neither tubs,
scrubbing-boards, nor soap to be seen. The clothing is dipped into the
soft water and the parts most soiled are rubbed on flat stones. It must
be rather hard on garments made of fine cloth, and it seems as though
the women would get tired bending down. After all, there are but few
things to wash, and, as the people do not work hard, their clothing
cannot get badly soiled.

But look! Here come some of Auwae's schoolmates to join them. They are
swimming down the stream. Each carries her clothing in a small bundle in
her hand; she holds it out of the water as she paddles along. It is such
a common matter that Auwae is not in the least surprised.

The schoolhouse is soon reached. It has but one large room, as there
are but thirty children in the village. Much of the time the gentle
schoolmaster sits with his pupils under the large tree near by. Auwae
likes that much the best. She can never get used to the close air inside
the house. But to-day the children must do some writing, so they sit at
their desks and compose letters to their adopted brothers and sisters in
America.

How odd it seems to see the schoolmaster tend his baby while he teaches
the children! Why didn't he leave it with his wife at home? Because in
this island of flowers it is the duty of men as well as women to act as
nurses. It seems a strange idea to us, but, if they are satisfied, it
must be all right.

Look at the baby! He is wrapped in enough clothing for six such tiny
beings, and drops of perspiration are running down his face; but he does
not cry.

"Aloha!" says our little Auwae, as she bows before her teacher. And
"Aloha!" he replies, in a kind sweet voice. How many things this one
word means! It answers for "good morning," "good-bye," "love," "thanks,"
and I don't know what else. But the smile that goes with it seems always
to explain its meaning and make it the most delightful of words.

In Auwae's land the language was never written until the white people
came to teach and help the Hawaiians. But it is very easy to understand,
and Auwae could read when she had been at school only a few weeks. She
had only twelve letters to learn. Every word and syllable of the
Hawaiian language ends in vowels, and there are no hard sounds to
pronounce. The sentences flow like music; so it is no wonder that Auwae
composes poems so easily. They are very pretty, however, and her teacher
is proud of her.

Auwae can tell you a great deal of the history of her island home.
There are some parts of it that she loves to hear over and over again.
On many a warm night as she lies on the grass with her head in her
father's lap, she will look up into his kind eyes, and say:

"Papa, do tell me again about the very first Hawaiians. How did people
come to live here after the island had grown up out of the sea? I can
seem to see the seeds and twigs floating on to the shores with the tide.
I can see the seeds sprouting and shooting up into tall trees out of the
lava soil. But I wish you would describe again the boats loaded with
people coming here from far away."

Then Auwae's father tells her of the time when there were no grass
houses, nor brown children playing about them. He relates the stories
handed down for hundreds of years about people living on distant islands
across the equator. They were not treated kindly in their own land, and
wished to find a new home where they could be happy and free. They were
much like the Pilgrims who left Europe, and were willing to bear
hardship and danger in New England.




CHAPTER VI.

LONG AGO.


THE old Hawaiians, who in those far-away times called themselves
Savaiians, loaded their boats with provisions and other needed supplies.
They set sail with their wives and children in hope of soon finding a
pleasant home in some new island. Their voyage was longer, however, than
they expected. Storms arose, and many of the poor little children grew
sick and died. But the boats, which were hardly more than large canoes
lashed together, rode safely onward. After many days the people saw the
shores of the Hawaiian Islands ahead of them.

How glad they were to stand on dry land once more! They found a
sheltered valley where they soon made themselves comfortable. They had
brought with them some chickens, two or three pigs and dogs, besides the
seeds of the breadfruit, and the kou trees. They found the taro plant
already growing there. They had made poi from it in their old home, so
they knew how to use it. Besides this, they found the kapa-tree. From
its bark they could make new garments to take the place of their
sea-worn clothing.

They were very happy. Children were born in this new and beautiful land.
Seeds were planted; more pigs and chickens were raised. It was the
Golden Age of Hawaii, for there were peace and plenty.

Even the Brownies helped the settlers, and often worked wonders in the
land. At least, this is what Auwae's father said, and I think he
believed in these queer little beings.

When he mentioned the Brownies,--Menehunes he called them,--Auwae's
eyes grew large with delight. She loved to hear about this race of
dwarfs who were said to have built immense fish-ponds and sea-wells.
Why, if you yourself, should doubt there were such beings, Auwae could
point to their large stone ruins not far from her home. She would say:

"Do you suppose any living people could set such great stones in place?
Surely not! The Brownies are the only ones having strength enough to do
work like that. Why, they are able to pass big stones from one to
another for miles."

Her father tells her that the secret of the Brownies' power is that they
_work together_ and work till their work is done. When human people
sleep they are busy, but if mortals walk abroad at such times the
Brownies make themselves invisible. Those were certainly wonderful times
when the spirits of the earth worked for men, and did such mighty deeds
in Hawaii.

But an end soon came to this joy and comfort, for men began to quarrel
and have wars against each other. Then the Brownies withdrew their aid,
and left them to themselves. Sickness fell upon the Hawaiians. There
were many rulers, each one trying to gain all the power possible. The
rich grew richer, and the poor poorer. Wicked priests, as well as the
chiefs and masters, held the people in fear. It was a sad, sad time. The
"chiefesses" (for there were women rulers) were no better than the men.

At last a child was born in Hawaii, who was unusually strong and wise.
He grew up and became a great chief. His name was Kamehameha. That word
means "The Lonely One." He was very ambitious. He looked over the island
of Hawaii, and said to himself:

"I will make myself king of this whole land. I will bring the people
more closely together. I will change many of the customs which are bad
and harmful."

He kept his word. He rallied his own men around him, and was soon ruler
of the entire island. But still he was not satisfied. He looked across
the sea to other islands, and said:

"I will be ruler over all these, too. My kingdom shall be a powerful
one."

He sailed with his troops in his strong war-canoes, and soon landed on
the island of Maui, not far from Hawaii.

The king of that island had been warned of the coming of the enemy. He
was already marching down a narrow pass between the mountains to meet
The Lonely One and his army.

Kamehameha did not waste a moment. He rushed up the pass, his men
following him in single file, and there, in a narrow pathway at least a
thousand feet above a deep abyss, the two armies met. As each one of the
Hawaiian soldiers stepped upward, he met and grappled with one of the
enemy. One or the other was sure to be hurled downward over the
precipice, and meet death below, if he were not already killed on the
narrow pathway.

It was a terrible battle. When night came the army of Maui was no more,
and Kamehameha was ruler of that island.

He was suddenly called back to his own home, for news came that a rebel
leader in Hawaii had risen against him. This leader encamped with his
men near the volcano Kilauea. As the great Kamehameha advanced to meet
them an earthquake shook the land; a violent storm of cinders and sand
rose out of the crater to a great height, and then fell down over the
mountainside.

When the men were able to advance once more it was found that a large
part of the rebel army had been killed by the eruption. At this the
people exclaimed:

"Surely the Goddess Pele was angry at the rebel chief. She chose this
way to show her favour toward Kamehameha."

After this there were other troubles, but The Lonely One grew more and
more powerful. At last he became the ruler of all the islands. He did
with them as he had promised himself, and the people were united and
happy as long as he lived.




CHAPTER VII.

THE COMING OF THE WHITE MEN.


AT nearly the same time that this brown king was born in Hawaii, a baby
was born in far-distant England, who was, many years after, the first
white person to visit Auwae's home. This baby's name was James Cook. He
was a little country boy. His father was very poor. James might not even
have had a chance to learn his letters if it had not been for the
kindness of a good woman who lived in his village.

The boy had to work hard, even when very small. He did not like his
work, either, and after awhile he said:

"Oh, how I long to leave this place and be free! I would rather live on
the beautiful blue ocean than here in the country. I shouldn't mind
doing the hardest things on board a ship."

After awhile he made up his mind that he could not bear it any longer.
One dark night he packed up a small bundle of clothing and ran away to
sea.

Do you imagine he found a kind captain waiting at some dock who became
his good friend and helper? Don't imagine it for a moment. He did find a
captain, and a ship, too. He also got a chance to work as a cabin-boy,
but he was badly treated, and had to work far harder than he ever did on
land.

Yet he loved the life of the ocean so much that he kept on sailing, and
worked his way up to a high position. He even became a captain. People
now called him "Captain Cook," and he was sent on long and dangerous
voyages in the English navy. When he was at home in England he was
invited to great dinners, and given high honours, for he had become a
famous man.

At last he was asked to make a more dangerous voyage than he had ever
yet tried. Wise men thought there might be a short way for ships to sail
from Europe to Asia by going north of America. There were many icebergs,
to be sure, as well as seas all frozen over, but perhaps there was a
warm current running through the ocean. Captain Cook was so wise and
brave he was the very man to try to find the Northwest Passage, as it
was called.

He started out with a goodly fleet. He sailed for many weeks. Many
strange things happened. You must read the whole story of the voyage
some time. But the brave captain did not find the Northwest Passage; he
did, however, discover the islands of Auwae's people.

One morning at sunrise, as he came sailing into one of the harbours,
the brown natives flocked to the shore. They had never seen a ship
before. They wondered what it could be. Was it a forest that had slid
down into the sea? Or was it the temple of Lono with ladders reaching up
to the altars?

It seems that Lono was one of the gods in whom the brown people still
believed. He had gone away from their island long before, and had
promised to come back some day on an island bearing cocoanut-trees,
swine, and dogs.

They thought the tall masts must be the cocoanut-trees, and when they
saw the dogs and swine on board the ships, they were quite sure the
promise had come true. Captain Cook himself must be Lono come again, and
the sailors were lower gods who served him.

One of the priests brought a red cloak and placed it on Captain Cook's
shoulders. This was the mark of his greatness. Such an honour could only
be offered a god.

There were great feasts for the visitors. Offerings of fruit, chickens,
and all good things possible were made to the white men. They grew fat
on the fine living. They were merry over their good times. No doubt they
laughed at the foolish belief of the savages, as they called them. But
they did not say:

"My brown friends, we are glad you are so kind to us, but please don't
think we are great beings. We are human beings like yourselves."

Do you not think that would have been wiser and more honest?

After awhile one of the sailors died. Then the brown people began to
think. They said among themselves:

"Gods cannot die. These people die, so they cannot be gods."

They began to watch more closely. Captain Cook was very quick-tempered.
He and his men sometimes quarrelled with the natives and were cruel. At
last, sad to say, the brave captain was killed in one of these quarrels.

Some people believe the Hawaiians of that time were cannibals and ate
his dead body. But this is not true. Auwae would feel very badly if she
thought her American brothers and sisters could believe this. Captain
Cook was a very great and brave man in the opinion of the brown child,
as well as in yours. But he ought not to have let the people believe he
was anything else than himself,--a white traveller from other lands.

There is a monument to his memory on the island, and when you visit
Auwae she will take you to see it.

After Captain Cook's death other white men came and taught the Hawaiians
many things. They helped the rulers in governing wisely; and at last the
people saw it was best to put themselves under the care of their white
brothers.

Auwae likes to read about the old days, however. She delights in
hearing her grandmother tell of her own youth; of the visit the king
once made to her village; and of the grand celebration in his honour.
The days were given up to feasting and entertainments. Men practised
boxing and wrestling for a long time beforehand; there were wonderful
feats on horseback, in which Auwae's grandfather took part.

As he rode at full gallop through the village, he surpassed all others
in leaning from his horse and picking small coins from the ground. Best
of all, the old woman said, as he rode along he wrung off the necks of
fowls whose bodies were buried in the ground. And this he did without
checking his horse's pace at all.

But the most joyful part of the day was when the king, fairly covered
with wreaths of flowers, took his place under a beautiful pandanus-tree;
then his subjects, one by one, came up before him, and, cheering and
bowing, gave him offerings. It was always the best which the people
offered their lord. There were presents of live fowls, hogs, clusters of
bananas, cakes of seaweed, eggs, cocoanuts, nets of sweet potatoes,
taro; everything which the king could desire.

"What joy and good-will those days brought!" says Auwae's grandmother.
"It was the happiest time of my life."

The old woman takes a great deal of interest in everything her little
granddaughter does. She is very proud of Auwae's collection of
land-shells. She thinks it must be the finest one any child possesses in
the whole island. She, herself, gave Auwae at least half of the
different varieties. She had kept them from the time of her own
childhood.

Did you ever hear of land-shells? They are found on the low,
overhanging branches of trees, and the little creatures who make their
homes in them would die if you were to put them into the salt water.
They are very tiny, and are of many different tints. Auwae has beautiful
blue ones, as well as rosy pink, pale yellow, green, violet, and I don't
know how many other colours. In little basket trays, side by side, they
look very pretty. Each variety has a tray of its own.

Many days must have been spent in gathering the collection; many
different people have helped Auwae in making it,--for often only a
single kind of shell can be found in one whole island. People in Hawaii
exchange specimens, just as the American boys and girls trade
postage-stamps with each other. The white people in the village would
like to buy Auwae's collection to send to a museum across the ocean, but
she would not think of parting with it.




CHAPTER VIII.

THE DIVER.


WHEN school is over, Upa and Auwae go home through the woods so that
they can throw stones in a certain waterfall. They have no fear that
snakes will suddenly take them by surprise, for there is not a single
one in the whole island. Neither do they hear frogs croaking beside a
shady pool, for neither frogs nor toads have ever hopped upon Hawaiian
soil.

Wherever they come to an open space beneath the trees, they play ball.
Upa made his own ball out of leaves which he packed closely together,
and Auwae bound it with sweet-smelling grasses when he had pressed it
into shape.

The boy's busy mind has planned new sport for the afternoon, and he
says:

"Auwae, after you have had your nap, do you want to fish? Old Hiko is
going out to the coral reefs, and he has promised I should go with him.
He says I may bring you, too, if you wish."

Auwae claps her hands with pleasure, for it will be a great treat. Hiko
is the only one in the village now who dives for fish. The other men use
lines made from the fibres of the flax-plant, and are satisfied to sit
in their boats, and lazily wait for bites. Auwae has grown to be a fine
diver, and hopes to learn something by watching the old man.

After a dinner of dried devil-fish and sweet potatoes, with baked
seaweed for a relish, and a delicious pudding of grated taro and
cocoanut milk, our little brown cousin stretches herself under the
trees, and is soon fast asleep.

She is dreaming of catching fresh-water shrimps in the stream near her
house when she is roused by a gentle pat on her forehead. It is Upa, who
says:

"We must hurry, Auwae. Hiko is going in half an hour, and he will not
wait for us."

Auwae is instantly wide awake, and after a loving "Aloha!" to her
mother, she hurries to the shore with Upa.

The old fisherman is already there in his long, clumsy-looking canoe. He
hollowed it from the trunk of a tree, and there is just room enough
inside for himself and the two children. At one side of the boat there
is an outrigger to balance it, and make it quite safe.

Hiko has a queer-looking paddle in his hand, and another beside him.
These paddles are like clumsy wooden spoons; it seems wonderful how fast
they can make the boat travel over the water.

The children wade out from the shore to the deeper water where the boat
is riding; then with a bound they spring into their places, Auwae to
steer, and Upa to seize the other paddle.

On they go till they are directly over the coral reef. The sea is a
beautiful green, and as clear as glass. Now they let the boat float
along, and all eyes are bent down upon the groves of coral below the
water. All at once Hiko rises suddenly to his feet, and springs upon the
edge of the canoe; but first he seizes in one hand a small fish-net, and
in the other a palm leaf.

Ah! down he dives, straight over the side of the boat! Down! down! Will
he ever come back? Do not fear. This is mere sport for him,--surprising
a shoal of fish at play among the coral spires. To the waiting children
it seems as though he were gone a long time, but in reality it is no
more than a minute.

As he appears again out of the water they shout in excitement, "What
luck, Hiko? What luck?" But they do not need to ask, for they see that
his net is half-full. He has actually brushed the fish into it with his
palm leaf, as your mother brushes crumbs from the table into the tray.

How beautiful are these fish! They are of many colours: red, green,
blue, and yellow. Among them is one of a delicate pink tint, shaped much
like a trout. Still another is a queer-looking fish with a purple body,
a blue spotted tail, and a dark head that shines brightly in the
sunlight.

But the greatest treasure in the old man's collection is the sea-cock,
or ki-hi ki-hi, as he calls it. Its back is covered with stripes of
black and yellow; it is perfectly round in shape, while a long,
transparent ribbon is fastened to its nose.

Hiko lifts the sea-cock from the net with great pride. To show the
children how beautiful it is while floating in the water, he fastens a
cord through the creature's head, and drops it below the surface. It
looks now like a gorgeous butterfly as it trails after the boat.

But Hiko is not satisfied yet. He says he will dive once more, as he
wishes to give Upa's mother a goodly mess of fish for her supper. At the
next dive he is gone for a longer time than before. Auwae grows fearful
just as his old face appears once more. He is puffing hard for breath,
and his eyes are red and blood-shot. He has been even more successful
this time, but is quite tired. He tells the children they can allow the
boat to float for awhile. They may rest for a luncheon on some of the
dainties he has just secured. Each may choose the fish liked best.

It seems queer to see the pleasure with which Auwae's pearly teeth meet
in the tail of the sea-cock. But such is the habit of her people, and
raw fish seems no stranger food to her than fresh-picked strawberries or
pineapples.

[Illustration: "IT IS LIKE A LONG, GRAND TOBOGGAN SLIDE"]

The party now paddle their way homewards. But, listen! A sound of music
comes from the direction of the shore. See! there are at least four
canoes filled with people. They are coming out for a race, and, as they
move along, are merrily singing in rhythm with the motion of their
paddles.

As they come nearer, our little brown maiden sees her father and mother
amongst the party. She stands up in the canoe, and shouts: "Oh, mamma!
we have had such fun! Hiko says we may stay out and race with you, too."

And now Hiko turns the canoe in the direction all the others are going.
The surf is running high; there is a good breeze blowing toward shore,
so there will be fine sport. All who hold paddles work with a will, and
the canoes are soon beyond the breakers; then they line up and watch for
a big roller.

They have only a minute to wait; all eyes turn as Hiko shouts, "Hoi!
hoi!" ("paddle with all your might").

The canoes rush onward with all the force the rowers can put into them;
for the boats must be moving fast enough when the breaker reaches them
to keep up with the onrushing water. Otherwise they will be overturned,
and the people obliged to swim ashore; which would certainly not be
pleasant.

Hurrah! The canoes are suddenly lifted up to a great height by the
mighty power of the roller; then down they suddenly drop to level water
again and speed onward to the shore. It is like a long, grand toboggan
slide, only it is on water instead of snow or ice.

Auwae's boat reaches the beach first of all. There is a shout of
laughter from the gay company who follow. It is because one of the
canoes has been left far behind the others. Of course the best fun lies
in winning this queer water race.

The sport continues for an hour or more, till it seems as though every
one must be tired out. Then they draw the canoes up on the shore and lie
about on the sand for story telling.




CHAPTER IX.

STORIES OF OLDEN TIME.


AUWAE'S father repeats a legend handed down through generations of his
family. "More than four hundred years ago," he says, "not far from this
very spot, there lived a great chief. His home was not Hawaii, but he
came from a distant land to fight and win honour under the king of this
island. He became powerful, and was much loved by the people. His
relatives followed, and settled here with him, and all went merry.

"The time for the monthly festival drew near; games, races, and trials
of strength were planned to make a pleasant holiday for all. The chief
himself was to take part. He and his dearest friend were both well
trained in sliding down the steep hillsides on their polished sledges;
so they agreed to vie with each other at the festival to see who could
win.

"How seldom, friends, these sledges are used now! What a grand sport it
was! I have a sledge at home used by my father, not more than six inches
wide, and at least eight feet long. The runners are finely curved and
polished. You must all have seen it.

"But to come back to my story. The chief knew well just how to throw
himself upon the sledge; he knew the difficult art of keeping his sledge
under him as he slid down the steep race track; he was able to guide his
sledge with the greatest skill.

"But his friend was as skilful as himself, so the people expected a
close contest. Many wagers of bunches of bananas and fat pigs were made.

"The time came, and the two men went up the hillside with their sledges
under their arms. They laughed and chatted, and had just reached the top
when a beautiful young woman suddenly appeared before them.

"She bowed before the chief, and said, 'Will you try the race with me
instead of your friend?'

"'What!' he exclaimed, 'with a woman?'

"'What difference should that make, if she is greater and more skilful
than you?' was her answer.

"The chief was angered, but he only replied, 'Then take my friend's
sledge and make ready.'

"And so these two, the chief and the strange, beautiful woman, rushed
down the hillside. For a single moment she lost her balance, and the
chief reached the goal first.

"How the people cheered and shouted! But the woman silently pointed
toward the top, as much as to say, 'Let us have one more trial.'

"Again the chief climbed the hillside, this time with the woman by his
side. As they were about to start once more, the stranger exclaimed:

"'Your sledge is better than mine; if you wish to be just, you will
exchange yours for mine.'

"'Why should I?' answered the chief. 'I do not know you. You are not a
sister or wife of mine.' And he turned without further heed and flung
himself down the steep descent, supposing the woman was also on the way.

"But not so! She stamped her foot upon the ground, and suddenly a stream
of burning lava poured forth and rushed down the hillside. The chief
reached the foot of the hill and turned to see the fiery torrent
destroying everything in its way.

"Too late, he understood everything now. The strange woman was none
other than the goddess Pele, who had taken this form to sport with men.
He had angered her, and she was about to destroy him and all his people.

"And look! There rode the goddess, herself, on the crest of the
foremost wave of lava. What should he do? He instantly turned aside and
fled with his friend to a small hill from which he could see the awful
death of his people.

"And now the valleys were filled with the burning torrent. Pele did not
intend to let him escape. Nothing was left but the ocean. He reached it
just as his brother drew near in his canoe. Together they fled to their
old home across the waters, and never again dared to visit Hawaii, lest
the dreadful goddess should come forth against him."

When the story is finished, tales are told of the old days of war and
bloodshed; when the word of the chief was law to his people; when no
life was safe from the power of the priests and chiefs. Then, indeed,
were surely needed the cities of refuge still standing on this island.

"It is at least a hundred years ago," says old Hiko, "that my
grandfather fled to the Pahonua, that strong old city whose walls have
sheltered many an innocent man and helpless woman. He was accused of
breaking the 'tabu' the chief of his village had laid upon a certain
spring of water." (Of course, as you know, "tabu" means _sacred_, and so
the water of that spring must not be used by any one except the chief
himself.)

"My grandfather was then a young man, gay and happy. He would never have
dared to break the tabu, but an enemy accused him of so doing, and the
chief sent armed men to kill him. A good friend heard of it in time to
warn him, and he fled over the mountains on his trusty horse.

"His pursuers were in full view when he reached the entrance to the
city of refuge. Here they believed he was under the protection of the
gods, so they turned back. Drawing a long breath of relief, he entered
the city. He lived for some days in one of the houses built inside its
massive walls. Then he came home again without fear, for he could never
more be harmed for the deed of which he had been accused.

"In those times, my children," says the old man, "the thief, even the
murderer, was pardoned, once he reached the city of refuge. And during
wars it was the place to which women and children fled; there alone were
they safe."

But the people are rested now, and do not care to think longer of the
olden times. As the tide is far out, a dance upon the beach is proposed.
Upa pounds his drum, and another of the party plays upon a bamboo flute.
All the others move about on the coral sand in slow, graceful circles.

While they are enjoying themselves in this way, we can examine Upa's
drum. He made it from the hollow trunk of a cocoa-palm. It is covered
with shark's skin. Odd as it seems to us, it serves his purpose very
well, and the boy keeps good time with the dancers. While he beats upon
it he delights in watching Auwae move about on the sand. She is the very
picture of grace and happiness.




CHAPTER X.

UP THE MOUNTAIN.



THE pleasant days pass by for Auwae and Upa, and the time comes for the
great trip to Kilauea. You must understand that Kilauea is not the
volcano itself, but the largest crater on the side of Mauna Loa. Many
grown people as well as children picture a volcano as a great cone with
only one deep pit, down into which they can look when they reach the
summit.

This is not always so; for the fire raging in the heart of Mauna Loa has
burst out in more than one place on its sides. Kilauea is the largest of
these outlets, or craters. It is a hard journey to climb even so far as
this. Very few people are daring enough to go still farther and journey
to the summit of Mauna Loa.

Auwae's mother actually grows excited while she gets her little daughter
ready for the trip. She does not care to go herself.

"It is too much work. I know I should get tired; but you can tell me
all about it, my child, when you come back. Then I can see it through
your eyes. And Upa's father will be kind, and will take good care of
you. I shall not worry."

When the first light of the morning shines through the tree tops, three
clumsy-looking horses stand in front of Auwae's door. Upa and his father
use two of them; the third one is for our little brown maiden, who
appears with a fresh garland of flowers upon her head and a smile on her
red lips.

She springs upon the saddle without help, and sits astride of the horse
just as Upa does. In fact, all Hawaiians ride in this way, and it is
very wise. The women could not travel safely over the rough mountain
passes if they rode like their white cousins.

"Aloha! Aloha! Aloha!" echoes through the grove, and the party is soon
out of sight. They have more than thirty miles of climbing before them;
the horses must walk nearly all the way, as it is a steady rise from the
village to the edge of the great crater.

At first, the way is through a perfect forest of breadfruit, candlenut,
and palm trees. Among them are ferns growing from twenty to thirty feet
high! Their great stalks are covered with a silky, golden-brown fibre.
Other ferns, more delicate, are wound around these and live upon their
life.

It is cool in the shade of the trees; the way is narrow and the horses
must go in single file to keep out of the thick underbrush. Presently
the way grows lighter and the party come out of the forest and pass a
large sugar plantation. Chinese labourers are cutting down the long
canes and carrying them to the mill to be crushed. The white overseers
are hurrying from one place to another, urging on the men and giving
directions, while through it all Auwae can hear the rush and roar of a
waterfall. She cannot see it, because the mill and boiler-house hide it
from her sight.

The party move to one side to let a team of mules pass them on the
narrow road. The mules are laden with kegs of sugar which must be
carried to the coast and shipped to distant lands.

The children would like to stop awhile on the plantation, but Upa's
father says they must not delay. It will be evening before they can
reach the volcano-house.

As they climb higher and higher up the mountainside, the air grows
cooler, yet the heat from the sun is so great they are still too warm
for comfort. Suddenly a heavy shower takes them by surprise, and Auwae
cries out in delight:

"Upa, isn't this fun? I'm going to open my mouth and let the raindrops
fall right in. I'm so thirsty! Aren't you?"

The children lie back in their saddles and leave their trusty horses to
follow their leader onward and ever upward. No one gives a thought to
wet clothing, for will it not be dry again a few minutes after the rain
stops falling?

See! the lava-beds stretch out before them. It is clear enough now that
Hawaii, the island of flowers, was born of fire. All these miles of
gray, shining substance once poured, a broad river of fire, from the
crater above. Some of the lava looks like broad waves; again, it is in
pools, or rivers, or coils, with great caves here and there. These caves
are really bubbles which have suddenly burst as they cooled.

Auwae looks off to each side of the road, built with so much labour up
the mountain; then she thinks of what her grandmother has told her of
her own journey to Kilauea, years ago. At that time there was no road
over the lava-beds, and her horse slipped many times as he stepped on
places smooth as glass. And many times his hoofs were badly cut on sharp
edges, and left bloody marks behind him.

The air is quite still. Not a sound can be heard. No birds nor insects
make their homes on these lava stretches. Yet do not think for a moment
that nothing grows here. The moist air and the rains have been great
workers, and, in some strange way, delicate ferns, nasturtiums, guavas,
and even trees, have taken root, so that the lava-beds are nearly
covered.

Hour after hour passes by. Auwae gets so tired she nearly falls from her
horse. The luncheon has been eaten long ago. There is no water to drink
except what the showers have left in little hollows by the wayside. The
children have stopped their chatter and lie with closed eyes on their
horses' backs. The smell of sulphur grows strong, and Upa's father turns
around to call out:

"Children, here we are at last! And there is my old friend Lono in the
doorway to welcome us."




CHAPTER XI.

THE VOLCANO.


AUWAE suddenly forgets the long and tiresome ride, as she jumps from
her horse's back in front of the hotel. This hotel is built on the edge
of a crater! Think of the family who live here year after year! Night
after night they look from the windows upon the raging fire below, yet
are not afraid. Many a time the earth shakes beneath them, and the house
rocks to and fro. The shelf of lava on which it stands may break at any
moment, and the people within may suddenly be flung over the precipice.
Yet they live on, and work and play as others do who have nothing to
fear.

In many places around the house are cracks in the earth from which
sulphur fumes are rising. As the children look out in front they see the
crater itself, more than nine miles round, and nearly a quarter of a
mile deep.

As they creep out and look over the edge, what is before them? The
crater is filled with steam, while over in a distant corner of the pit
they look for the first time upon the "house of everlasting fire," as
the old legends call it,--the home of the goddess Pele.

The flames rise and fall, now high enough to light up the evening sky,
now low as though dying out, and with it can be heard the breathing of
this great furnace of nature. It sounds like the restless ocean many
miles away.

Auwae and Upa hold each other's hands tightly and do not speak. Surely
this is a wonderful sight. They will not forget it as long as they live.

They are so tired, however, that they are soon fast asleep in "white
people's beds," as they call them. They do not awake till the sun has
driven away the clouds which hang about the place in the early hours of
morning. Upa's father has already eaten breakfast and attended to his
business with the landlord.

He tells the children that horses are at the door to carry them down
into the crater; for they have begged him to let them see everything
possible.

What a ride this is down the rough, jagged side of the pit! The horses
pick their way step by step over the sharp broken lava. But even here
beautiful things are growing. There are delicate ferns, silvery grasses,
pink, white, and brilliant blue berries. It seems as though Mother
Nature wished to hide the frightful masses of black and gray lava.

Now the air gets very hot; steam and sulphur pour through great cracks
in the floor of the crater; the lava itself will burn if Auwae dares to
touch it with her fingers.

The floor of the crater, looking quite even from above, is broken up
into hills and valleys, immense ridges and rivers of lava which have
poured forth, one above the other, at different times.

After two hours of hard riding and walking, Auwae and Upa reach the lake
of living fire and look down, down, into its depths. But they cannot see
the bottom. Each throws in a garland of flowers as an offering to the
goddess Pele. They know she does not exist, but it is an old, old custom
of the people, and they have not quite grown out of the idea that it is
safest to do so.

For, look at the flames leaping up at this very moment! "People _may_ be
mistaken," thinks Auwae, "and the goddess may get angry if we are not
polite, and suddenly drown us in fire!"

It is dinner-time before the party get back to the hotel. They are
willing to rest all the afternoon under the tree-ferns near the house.
They lazily pick the ohele berries growing about them, as they tell the
village news to the landlord's family.

On the evening of the third day our little brown maiden finds herself
safe at home once more. She is very well, but quite lame and sore from
her long ride. Her mother says she shall have a lomi-lomi, and she will
feel all right again.

Auwae stretches herself out on a mat while an old woman of the village
pinches and pounds and kneads every part of her dear little body. Do you
suppose it hurts? Just try it yourself the first time you have a chance,
and when it is over see if you do not feel as limber and care-free as
Auwae does.

She dances about under the trees, and exclaims: "Oh, how nice it is to
be alive! What a lovely home I have! But I'm glad I've been to Kilauea,
though I would not like to live there."

At this moment she sees her father coming down the path to the house.
He was away when she got home, and she runs to welcome him.

"But, dear papa, what are you hiding behind you?" she cries.

"I have a present for my little daughter," he answers. "It has cost a
large sum, but my only child deserves it, I well know. It is something
for you to treasure all your life."

He hands her a bamboo cylinder, telling her to see what is inside. The
excited girl opens one end, and out falls a band of tiny yellow feathers
to be worn as a wreath. It is more precious to this Hawaiian child than
a diamond ring or gold necklace could possibly be.

Why, do you ask? Because of the time and labour in getting the
feathers, which are found on only one kind of bird in the islands, or
any other place, for that matter. This little creature is called the oo.
It lives among the mountains. Under each of its wings are a few bright
yellow feathers no more than an inch long. Hunters spend their lives in
snaring this bird. They place long sticks smeared with a sticky
substance where the oo is apt to alight. After it is caught, the
precious feathers are plucked and the bird set free.

While Auwae crowns herself with her new wreath, her father tells her
that next month she shall go away with him on a steamboat. She shall
visit Honolulu, the capital of the islands. There she shall see the
wonderful war-cloak of Kamehameha the Great. It is made entirely of oo
feathers. Nine kings lived and died, one after the other, before this
priceless cloak was finished. And now it is guarded as one of the
greatest treasures of the country.

Yes, Auwae shall see, not only this, but many wonders beside. She shall
ride through the streets with neither man nor animal to carry her. She
shall talk with people miles away by placing her mouth to a tube. She
shall see how her white cousins live and dress.

But her father does not doubt that she will be glad to come home again
to this little grass house with the quiet and the peace of the village
life.


THE END.




THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES


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Each one vol., 12mo, decorative cover, cloth, with six or more full-page
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_By MARY HAZELTON WADE (unless otherwise indicated)_

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      By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet

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      By Blanche McManus

    =Our Little Armenian Cousin=

    =Our Little Brown Cousin=

    =Our Little Canadian Cousin=
      By Elizabeth R. Macdonald

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      By Isaac Taylor Headland

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    Each one volume, small 12mo, illustrated  $0.35


LIST OF TITLES


    =Aunt Nabby's Children.= By Frances Hodges White.
    =Child's Dream of a Star, The.= By Charles Dickens.
    =Flight of Rosy Dawn, The.= By Pauline Bradford Mackie.
    =Findelkind.= By Ouida.
    =Fairy of the Rhone, The.= By A. Comyns Carr.
    =Gatty and I.= By Frances E. Crompton.
    =Helena's Wonderworld.= By Frances Hodges White.
    =Jerry's Reward.= By Evelyn Snead Barnett.
    =La Belle Nivernaise.= By Alphonse Daudet.
    =Little King Davie.= By Nellie Hellis.
    =Little Peterkin Vandike.= By Charles Stuart Pratt.
    =Little Professor, The.= By Ida Horton Cash.
    =Peggy's Trial.= By Mary Knight Potter.
    =Prince Yellowtop.= By Kate Whiting Patch.
    =Provence Rose, A.= By Ouida.
    =Seventh Daughter, A.= By Grace Wickham Curran.
    =Sleeping Beauty, The.= By Martha Baker Dunn.
    =Small, Small Child, A.= By E. Livingston Prescott.
    =Susanne.= By Frances J. Delano.
    =Water People, The.= By Charles Lee Sleight.
    =Young Archer, The.= By Charles E. Brimblecom.




COSY CORNER SERIES


It is the intention of the publishers that this series shall contain
only the very highest and purest literature,--stories that shall not
only appeal to the children themselves, but be appreciated by all those
who feel with them in their joys and sorrows.

The numerous illustrations in each book are by well-known artists, and
each volume has a separate attractive cover design.

    Each 1 vol., 16mo, cloth     $0.50


_By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON_


=The Little Colonel.= (Trade Mark.)

The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its heroine is a small
girl, who is known as the Little Colonel, on account of her fancied
resemblance to an old-school Southern gentleman, whose fine estate and
old family are famous in the region.


=The Giant Scissors.=

This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in France. Joyce is a
great friend of the Little Colonel, and in later volumes shares with her
the delightful experiences of the "House Party" and the "Holidays."


=Two Little Knights of Kentucky.=

WHO WERE THE LITTLE COLONEL'S NEIGHBORS.

In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an old friend, but
with added grace and charm. She is not, however, the central figure of
the story, that place being taken by the "two little knights."


=Mildred's Inheritance.=

A delightful little story of a lonely English girl who comes to America
and is befriended by a sympathetic American family who are attracted by
her beautiful speaking voice. By means of this one gift she is enabled
to help a school-girl who has temporarily lost the use of her eyes, and
thus finally her life becomes a busy, happy one.


=Cicely and Other Stories for Girls.=

The readers of Mrs. Johnston's charming juveniles will be glad to learn
of the issue of this volume for young people.


=Aunt 'Liza's Hero and Other Stories.=

A collection of six bright little stories, which will appeal to all
boys and most girls.


=Big Brother.=

A story of two boys. The devotion and care of Steven, himself a small
boy, for his baby brother, is the theme of the simple tale.


=Ole Mammy's Torment.=

"Ole Mammy's Torment" has been fitly called "a classic of Southern
life." It relates the haps and mishaps of a small negro lad, and tells
how he was led by love and kindness to a knowledge of the right.


=The Story of Dago.=

In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago, a pet monkey,
owned jointly by two brothers. Dago tells his own story, and the account
of his haps and mishaps is both interesting and amusing.


=The Quilt That Jack Built.=

A pleasant little story of a boy's labor of love, and how it changed the
course of his life many years after it was accomplished.


=Flip's Islands of Providence.=

A story of a boy's life battle, his early defeat, and his final triumph,
well worth the reading.


_By EDITH ROBINSON_


=A Little Puritan's First Christmas.=

A Story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how Christmas was invented
by Betty Sewall, a typical child of the Puritans, aided by her brother
Sam.



=A Little Daughter of Liberty.=

The author introduces this story as follows:

"One ride is memorable in the early history of the American Revolution,
the well-known ride of Paul Revere. Equally deserving of commendation is
another ride,--the ride of Anthony Severn,--which was no less historic
in its action or memorable in its consequences."


=A Loyal Little Maid.=

A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary days, in which the
child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders important services to George
Washington.


=A Little Puritan Rebel.=

This is an historical tale of a real girl, during the time when the
gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massachusetts.


=A Little Puritan Pioneer.=

The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settlement at
Charlestown.


=A Little Puritan Bound Girl.=

A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great interest to
youthful readers.


=A Little Puritan Cavalier.=

The story of a "Little Puritan Cavalier" who tried with all his boyish
enthusiasm to emulate the spirit and ideals of the dead Crusaders.


=A Puritan Knight Errant.=

The story tells of a young lad in Colonial times who endeavored to carry
out the high ideals of the knights of olden days.


_By OUIDA_ (_Louise de la Ramée_)


=A Dog of Flanders=: A CHRISTMAS STORY.

Too well and favorably known to require description.


=The Nurnberg Stove.=

This beautiful story has never before been published at a popular price.


_By FRANCES MARGARET FOX_


=The Little Giant's Neighbours.=

A charming nature story of a "little giant" whose neighbours were the
creatures of the field and garden.


=Farmer Brown and the Birds.=

A little story which teaches children that the birds are man's best
friends.


=Betty of Old Mackinaw.=

A charming story of child-life, appealing especially to the little
readers who like stories of "real people."


=Brother Billy.=

The story of Betty's brother, and some further adventures of Betty
herself.


=Mother Nature's Little Ones.=

Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or "childhood,"
of the little creatures out-of-doors.


=How Christmas Came to the Mulvaneys.=

A bright, lifelike little story of a family of poor children, with an
unlimited capacity for fun and mischief. The wonderful never-to-be
forgotten Christmas that came to them is the climax of a series of
exciting incidents.


_By MISS MULOCK_


=The Little Lame Prince.=

A delightful story of a little boy who has many adventures by means of
the magic gifts of his fairy godmother.


=Adventures of a Brownie.=

The story of a household elf who torments the cook and gardener, but is
a constant joy and delight to the children who love and trust him.


=His Little Mother.=

Miss Mulock's short stories for children are a constant source of
delight to them, and "His Little Mother," in this new and attractive
dress, will be welcomed by hosts of youthful readers.


=Little Sunshine's Holiday.=

An attractive story of a summer outing. "Little Sunshine" is another of
those beautiful child-characters for which Miss Mulock is so justly
famous.


_By MARSHALL SAUNDERS_


=For His Country.=

A sweet and graceful story of a little boy who loved his country;
written with that charm which has endeared Miss Saunders to hosts of
readers.


=Nita, the Story of an Irish Setter.=

In this touching little book, Miss Saunders shows how dear to her heart
are all of God's dumb creatures.


=Alpatok, the Story of an Eskimo Dog.=

Alpatok, an Eskimo dog from the far north, was stolen from his master
and left to starve in a strange city, but was befriended and cared for,
until he was able to return to his owner.


_By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE_


=The Farrier's Dog and His Fellow.=

This story, written by the gifted young Southern woman, will appeal to
all that is best in the natures of the many admirers of her graceful and
piquant style.



=The Fortunes of the Fellow.=

Those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm of "The Farrier's Dog
and His Fellow" will welcome the further account of the adventures of
Baydaw and the Fellow at the home of the kindly smith.


=The Best of Friends.=

This continues the experiences of the Farrier's dog and his Fellow,
written in Miss Dromgoole's well-known charming style.


=Down in Dixie.=

A fascinating story for boys and girls, of a family of Alabama children
who move to Florida and grow up in the South.


_By MARIAN W. WILDMAN_


=Loyalty Island.=

An account of the adventures of four children and their pet dog on an
island, and how they cleared their brother from the suspicion of
dishonesty.


=Theodore and Theodora.=

This is a story of the exploits and mishaps of two mischievous twins,
and continues the adventures of the interesting group of children in
"Loyalty Island."


_By CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS_


=The Cruise of the Yacht Dido.=

The story of two boys who turned their yacht into a fishing boat to
earn money to pay for a college course, and of their adventures while
exploring in search of hidden treasure.


=The Young Acadian.=

The story of a young lad of Acadia who rescued a little English girl
from the hands of savages.


=The Lord of the Air.=

THE STORY OF THE EAGLE


=The King of the Mamozekel.=

THE STORY OF THE MOOSE


=The Watchers of the Camp-fire.=

THE STORY OF THE PANTHER


=The Haunter of the Pine Gloom.=

THE STORY OF THE LYNX


=The Return to the Trails.=

THE STORY OF THE BEAR


=The Little People of the Sycamore.=

THE STORY OF THE RACCOON


_By OTHER AUTHORS_


=The Great Scoop.=

_By MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL_

A capital tale of newspaper life in a big city, and of a bright,
enterprising, likable youngster employed thereon.


=John Whopper.=

The late Bishop Clark's popular story of the boy who fell through the
earth and came out in China, with a new introduction by Bishop Potter.


=The Dole Twins.=

_By KATE UPSON CLARK_

The adventures of two little people who tried to earn money to buy
crutches for a lame aunt. An excellent description of child-life about
1812, which will greatly interest and amuse the children of to-day,
whose life is widely different.


=Larry Hudson's Ambition.=

_By JAMES OTIS_, author of "Toby Tyler," etc.

Larry Hudson is a typical American boy, whose hard work and enterprise
gain him his ambition,--an education and a start in the world.


=The Little Christmas Shoe.=

_By JANE P. SCOTT WOODRUFF_

A touching story of Yule-tide.


=Wee Dorothy.=

_By LAURA UPDEGRAFF_

A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion of the eldest, a
boy, for his sister being its theme and setting. With a bit of sadness
at the beginning, the story is otherwise bright and sunny, and
altogether wholesome in every way.


=The King of the Golden River=: A LEGEND OF STIRIA. _By JOHN RUSKIN_

Written fifty years or more ago, and not originally intended for
publication, this little fairy-tale soon became known and made a place
for itself.


=A Child's Garden of Verses.=

_By R. L. STEVENSON_

Mr. Stevenson's little volume is too well known to need description.


       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber's Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

Page 58, "the" changed to "The" to match rest of usage (other troubles,
but The)

Final advertising page, "L. R." changed to "R. L." (By R. L. STEVENSON)





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