A Hilo Plantation [pp. 186-191]

A Iilo Plantation.
A HILO PLANTATION.
ON the morning of the second day from
Honolulu, the passenger for Hilo, looking
landward from the swaying deck of the "Ki nau," sees close upon the right the surf
breaking against a long succession of old lava
cliffs, separated fromn one another by many
narrow inlets which the streams have cut.
Through these openings he may perhaps
catch a passing glimpse of pretty waterfalls,
half hidden by bread fruit and pandanis
trees, sweeping down between ferny and
grass-covered banks, with clustered cocoanut
trees in the foreground. On the top of the
cliffs and stretching backward from the sea,
lie the plantations, making with their alternation of light green cane-fields and grassy pasture, clustered buildings and tall mill chimneys, a wide brocaded ribbon bordering the
sea. Back of them is the belt of woods, an
impenetrable tropical jungle at first, but gradually changing in character, till, at an elevation of five or six thousand feet, it gives place
to open, grass-covered slopes. And topping
all, if the day be clear, stands the summit of
Mauna Kea, dashed with snow. From that
far summit, or through rifts irn. the mountain
sides, came down, in ages too old for any man
to tell, flow after flow of fiery lava, building
the base of the mountain out into the sea.
But now, for long, the sea has been taking
its slow revenge, cutting the land backward,
and undermining the shore cliffs, while its
winds and rains have reduced the surface to
arable soil, and sculptured it with long lines
of ravines.
The chances of seeing the summit of Mauna Kea clear are not, however, very great;
for Hilo district is the most rainy in the Islands. The constant trade wind, blowing
directly inland, brings against the cool upper
slopes of the mountains great masses of
cloud, just ready for condensation, and the
result is frequent and copious showers. To
this district is credited that story of Mark
Twain's, of the man who found that the rain
fellin at the bung-hole of a barrel faster than it
could run out at both ends, and finally filled
the barrel. By actual measurement, howev er, the rain falls not infrequently at the rate
of an inch an hour, and it scarcely provokes
a smile when a boy is sent out in the rain to
measure and empty the gauge so that it shall
not run over.
The rain keeps, the whole country as green
as a spring wheat field, and the smallest
streams run the year round. A Californian,
used to
"Half a year of clouds and flowers,
Half a year of dust and sky.'
finds the flowing water and the seeming con stancy of early summer an especial delight.
He will miss one thing, however: there are
no field flowers in Hawaii, nothing in the
whole circuit of the year like the acres of
yellow mustard and flaming poppies that
mark the opening of the summer in his native State.
It has been said of the Islands as a whole,
that there is no pleasanter place to visit, and
no worse place to live, the world over. This
applies a fortiori to the plantations. On
one side, the characteristic kindness is here
more kind, and the hospitality' even more
hospitable, if such a thing can be; but, on the
other side, the isolation is more complete.
Honolulu is seven days removed from contact with the rushing current of the world's
affairs; the plantations from ten to forty
hours from such ripples as stir the capital.
The society of the city lacks elements that
numbers alone can give; that of the plantation is restricted to those living on it, and
to such neighbors as can be reached over
miles of muddy roads. This, perhaps,
makes the guest all the more welcome; at
all events, he is welcomed royally, and everything done to insure his pleasure.
Let us imagine ourselves, then, so fortunate as to be going by invitation to one of
the plantations we have just passed. When
186
[Aug.,