"AUNTY," said Carrie, as I came into the room, at four o'clock the next day, "we have been calling ourselves little ants all day to-day, we have been so busy; but now we have finished our work, and are all ready." So I resumed my story.

On Saturday, April 11, we left Kaawaloa, after a very pleasant visit of two weeks, starting about nine o'clock on our twelve miles' ride to Kailua. Mr. Paris's family and grandma were in a carriage, which some friends had given Mrs. P., and grandpa and I were on horseback. I had my horse Bonaparte. The road was good most of the way; no carriage had ever traveled the whole length of it before. Part of the way was down the mountain, and when about half-way to the foot, a part of the carriage broke. We all dismounted and took a lunch, then, with some leather, Mr. Paris bound up the broken place firmly, and we went on our way rejoicing that no worse thing had befallen us; for we were far away from any house, and had still half of our journey to perform, and this being the only carriage on that part of the island, no native knew how to repair it. On reaching the sea-shore, we passed through a grove of cocoa-nut trees. Here we drank some delicious cocoa-nut milk, and quite a group of natives gathered about us, and shook hands. The Hawaiians as a race are very fond of shaking hands. As the shake of the hand, saying "aloha," love to you, was often our only mode of expressing our interest, we were very particular to do it.

After leaving the grove, the path lay between two stone walls, so near together that it seemed impossible for the carriage to go through. Our native friends said among themselves "pilikia!" trouble; for there was no other road for the carriage. But the carriage did pass, the wheels just grazing the stones. How glad we were, and the natives exclaimed, "maikai!" good.

We saw a great deal of rough hard lava, called "pahoihoi," and prickly pear-trees grew in abundance. They were large, ugly plants. Grandma gave me one of their flowers which looks like a cactus-blossom. I had on a heavy buckskin glove, and this was filled with small barbed thorns, which, before I knew it, had worked through into my hand, as I held the rein. They caused no little pain, but were so small and colorless that you could not see them. In some places the people use the prickly pear as hedges, which are unsightly but very strong. We often saw the century-plant while on the islands, which, it has been said, blooms only once in one hundred years; but in fact it blossoms at least once in twenty-five years. The stalk of the flower grows very rapidly. Some of these stalks are twenty or thirty feet high. I examined one which seemed to be casting its blossoms; they looked like small bulbs just sprouting. If these are planted, they will grow, and this is the way the plant is propagated.

We were amused at the excitement of many of the natives about the carriage. A great number of them had never seen one before. Whole families turned out, men, women, and children, just as people in our own land once did to see a railroad car, or as they do now to see a caravan with elephants and camels. Horses and mules all along the road became unmanageable. They would turn and look, with dilated nostrils and head erect, while trembling in every limb, till the carriage almost reached them, then they would break from their fastenings and gallop off, neighing with fear. Then they would turn and look till we nearly reached them again, when they darted away as before.

We reached the house of Mr. Thurston, at Kailua, about three o'clock in the afternoon. It had a very desolate look, for it had been locked up for a year. The venerable missionaries were then in California, on account of the failure of Mr. T.'s health. There was no white face to greet us, as at the other mission-stations, so we made ourselves as comfortable as possible. Several natives called to see us, and a venerable deacon sent us two fowls, some very fine watermelons, and sweet potatoes. The melons were delicious, the soil of this part of the islands being well adapted to them. Watermelons are even sent to the San Francisco market.

The next day was Sabbath, the 12th of April, the forty-third anniversary of the missionaries first landing on these islands, which occurred on this very spot. We were interested in the fact that we should happen to be there at that time.

We went to the stone church, a venerable edifice built in the old style,—the pulpit and galleries being very high. Perhaps a thousand natives were present, and they paid remarkable attention to all that was said. After service, we shook hands with a large portion of the audience. Most of the people came on horseback, and there must have been as many as five hundred horses tied outside the church.

It was too far for us to go home before the afternoon service; so we spent the time in visiting the graves of mission families near the church. In the afternoon we partook of the communion with the congregation. Every thing was conducted with great propriety. A native evangelist has had the care of this church since Mr. T. left, and they have well sustained their church and prayer-meetings, with very little outside aid from missionaries.

We expected the steamer to call for us at any time after midnight, and so slept with one eye and one ear open. About twenty asses were in a pasture near us, and were braying all night long. We had little refreshing sleep, and were glad to see the smoke of the Kilauea as she came round a point in the distance at six o'clock in the morning. We wended our way to the beach, and amused ourselves by watching little native children playing in the water, and by picking up shells, until the boat came to take us on board the steamer, when we bade our friends good-by. As there was no wharf, a native took us up one by one and carried us to the boat. It seemed so funny at first for us grown people to be taken up like children; but we got accustomed to it, the men lifting us easily, and placing us in the boat as dry and comfortable as possible. By three o'clock in the afternoon we were off Honoipu, where we were to disembark. This is the landing for Kohala. Mr. Bond met us, and a kind German was there with his wagon to take grandma and the baggage to Mr. B.'s house. The rest of us went on horseback. Before grandpa mounted his horse, the natives gathered about him, and asked by an interpreter how old he was. They said, "his face and his form was young, but his hair was old." They expected to see an old decrepit man, and were quite surprised to find him so fresh and vigorous. We started on a brisk canter over a good road. My horse was unfortunate in his disposition, and would sometimes run across the road to kick another.

"Why, aunty, what did he do that for?" asked Harry.

Perhaps he had the same feeling that a little boy has, when he races with another boy. The latter runs a little faster perhaps, and the boy that is behind tries to hinder or tease him in some way, so that he may lose the race. I suppose my horse didn't want the other to pass him, and so tried to kick him.

The trade-wind swept across that part of the island with great force. It really seemed as if we would be blown off our horses, and I was glad that my hat-strings were sewed on tightly. After a while, a sudden shower came up, lasting about five minutes; but the wind soon dried us. Another and heavier one making its appearance in the distance, we turned off the road to go a shorter way. Mr. Bond was mounted on a large white mule; as we were galloping hastily along over the grassy field, his mule stumbled, and over they went. All we could see was the mule's four feet in the air. Fortunately, Mr. Bond was not under the animal, as we feared, but rose from the soft grass a few feet ahead uninjured. The shower came steadily on, and we were obliged to take refuge in a native hut. The natives ran out, took off our saddles, and tied our horses for us, so that we might escape the shower. They were always ready to do a kind act for us. As I sat in the hut with two women and a pretty little native girl about three years old, I longed to be able to talk with them in their own language; but after each of us had said "aloha," we could only sit and look at each other.

Grandma and Mrs. Bond with her children were waiting on the piazza to meet us as we rode up. But there is the tea-bell, so we must wait until to-morrow to hear about Kohala.