"A storm of sand, aunty! What do you mean?" asked Carrie.
Just what I say,—a storm of sand. The wind was so strong that the very sand was blown up in our faces with such force as to make the skin tingle.
Mr. Alexander met us, and we started in this same storm and high wind for Wailuku, ten miles distant, where he resides. Even the gentlemen had veils over their faces, and hats tied on with handkerchiefs. The air was so thick with sand that we could hardly see, but we pushed bravely on. We were all on horseback, our baggage coming on more slowly in an ox-cart.
We had just got within sight of Mr. Alexander's house, having only a ride of perhaps ten minutes before us, when, to our dismay, there came a deluge of rain. My veil in a moment became like ground glass, the water making it impossible for me to see through it. Of course I could not guide my horse, but he followed the rest of the company; and glad indeed were we to change our soaked garments for others kindly furnished by the mission family, and thankful that our baggage did not arrive until after the shower was over, so that it escaped getting wet.
The next day we had a visit from many native men and women, who brought their gifts of eggs, onions, cabbages, fowls, and melons. They all seemed so genuinely happy to see us that it was a pleasure to meet them.
On the Sabbath we attended church all day, with a well-dressed and decorous congregation of Hawaiians. They had a melodeon and a very good choir. Mr. Alexander told us that six of the choir could play on the instrument, and they all take turns, one playing in the morning, another in the afternoon. They hired a teacher to come over from Lahaina once or twice a week. This they planned entirely among themselves, I believe.
Monday morning we made up a party to go into Iao [E-ah-o] valley. We were all on horseback,—nine of us,—and a happy company we were. The valley was so narrow that we crossed a swollen and rapid mountain stream five times. The ascent the last part of the way, before reaching the plateau, was very steep. But oh, what a magnificent valley we were in! It was about three miles long, and from one to two broad, while all around us, excepting the side we entered, were precipices from four to six or seven thousand feet high, in many instances perpendicular. It was a grand sight, to be remembered for a lifetime.
We dismounted from our horses, and the younger portion of the company rambled in the woods in search of tree-shells.
"Tree-shells! What are they, aunty?" asked Harry.
They are snail-shells. I think I was told that over a hundred varieties are found on the islands, every valley and each hundred feet of elevation having a different species. We used to notice the kind of tree that seemed to have the most, and then searched for that tree. They prefer the under sides of the leaves; so we would peer up in the branches, and when we found one, would pick it off and drop it in our pocket-handkerchief. After we were tired of "shelling," we came back to where our elders were quietly chatting, and had a nice picnic lunch, sitting on the grass, with fern-leaves for plates. What a sight was before our eyes!—these majestic works of God rising thousands of feet above us, apparently resting in clouds!