Oh, no, indeed! they are perfectly harmless. They are very small and delicate; I seldom saw one more than three or four inches long.
"Do they have snakes on the islands?" asked Harry.
No, not one; the only poisonous reptiles are scorpions and centipedes. I saw only one scorpion. That was at Punahou. I was sitting in the parlor one day, and saw a small peculiar-looking creature creeping towards me on the floor. Some movement of mine, made it throw its tail up over its back; then I knew it was a scorpion; for I had read that the sting was in the tail, and when frightened, it would throw its tail over its back ready to strike. One of the gentlemen killed it.
I saw only two live centipedes. They are ugly-looking creatures. One dreads a close contact with them. They run and twist about as if they felt they were unwelcome guests.
We had a very pleasant farewell party at Dr. Judd's, where we met missionary friends and some of the foreign consuls and their wives. Once more I explored the extinct crater of Punchbowl, this time on horseback, and admired the beautiful landscape before me when tinged with the setting sun.
On the afternoon of June 26th, the native women brought us gifts of tapa, necklaces, corals, etc. It was a suggestion of their own. They wished us to take home mementoes of them, and had been planning it for some time among themselves. Some of the necklaces were made of beautiful yellow feathers. Only two of that color grow on the bird, one under each wing; so the necklaces are very valuable. Others were made of hundreds of small braids of human hair, from which is suspended a hook made of whale's tooth. Those were worn in former times only by chiefs.
My last excursion was a ride round the old crater of Diamond Head. We rode through the fine, cocoa-nut grove of Waikiki, drinking from its refreshing fruit, and then cantered along the sea-beach, nearing the desolate mountain at every bound. Just before we reached its base,—a narrow belt of sand only separating it from the sea,—a party of gayly-dressed natives came one by one round a projecting point on the full gallop. All wore their red and yellow kehaes, or riding-suits. There were twenty or more of them, and it seemed like a streak from a rainbow as they flitted by.
The nearer we came to Diamond Head, the more forbidding it looked. Nothing green is seen upon it; old decaying, crumbling lava extends from its summit to its base. Beyond the volcano is a very ancient burying-ground on the sea-shore, and as we rode over it, bones were often seen. We completed the circuit of Diamond Head, riding a distance of twelve miles in two hours, and returned quite refreshed by the excursion.
I then bade adieu to my little horse, who had served me so faithfully and well. He bore the name of "Shakspeare," though usually called by the undignified title of Rat. Never did a little horse more deserve a better name. But then, "What's in a name?"
On Sabbath afternoon, June 28th, Mr. Henry H. Parker, the son of a missionary, was ordained pastor of the congregation worshiping in the stone church. The services were very interesting to witness, but were all in Hawaiian. We had become quite familiar with the native sentence, "E pule kakou"—"Let us pray." The right hand of fellowship was given by Rev. Mr. Kuaea, a native minister, and it was an affecting sight to see those two young men, one white—the other dark-skinned,—clasp hands in Christian fellowship.