We shook hands with four or five hundred natives that day, saying "aloha," which means "love to you," "good-will," and is their common salutation. They crowded around us, and sometimes two would get hold of my hand at once. A hand would come over a shoulder, another under an elbow, and round unheard-of corners, all expressing joy and friendship.
But we must hear the rest of Honolulu to-morrow.
VII.
Honolulu continued.
THE first great event of the week was a dinner-party at Mr. Wyllie's, the minister of foreign affairs. He is a Scotchman, and wore his official badges: a broad blue band crossing his vest, with the royal coat of arms fastening it together on the hip just below the waist of his dress-coat; also a star on his breast, and two long streamers of crape hanging from his left arm in memory of the young Prince of Hawaii who died last year.
At either end of the dining-hall hung three banners from a standard,—his Scottish manorial flags, I presume; they gave a showy look to the room. On the center of the table was a magnificent standard of silver with a lovely bouquet of flowers. When the dessert was brought in, this was replaced by a branching standard filled with fruit, more elegant still. After the dessert, came a rich and chaste drinking-bowl of silver lined with gold, from which each was desired to sip a little wine to the health of Lady Franklin, who had once been his guest, and who presented him the cup.
In the evening, about a dozen young people took a moonlight walk up Punchbowl, the extinct volcano just back of Honolulu. It is apparently a round cone, about five or six hundred feet high. The side we ascended was steep, ragged, and rocky; but the view of Honolulu from that elevation is very fine. The taro patches were of a deep green, the coral reefs in the harbor snowy white. The town with its thatched houses lay quiet beneath us, while old Diamond Head loomed up in solitary and barren grandeur in the distance. We had some fine singing from members of the party, and the air was so clear and the night so still that it was heard at a long distance.
"Taro patches, aunty? What are they?"
Taro is a vegetable somewhat resembling the calla-lily, the roots of which are good for food.