LEAVING SAN FRANCISCO.

March 28th. A company of thirty escorted us down the harbor, in the tug. Some of the gentlemen contrived to get on board the Fleece, but to our disappointment the rest of the party remained in the tug. The deck of the ship being high above the tug, our conversation, with reminiscences, compliments, assurances of continual remembrance, messages, could not be so sentimental as if conveyed in whispers. As we went down the harbor, the swell was great, and we were sorry that many of the pleasant faces preferred to turn and look from us overboard; whereby our conversation, difficult though it had been for some time, was wholly cut off. At length the signal was given for parting, and the little tug with its company, the most of whom we could not expect to see again, darted ahead of us; a cloud of handkerchiefs gave us their parting salute, which we continued to answer till the tug was lost amid the crowd of vessels in the harbor. Soon the heavy swell outside admonished us that we also were mortal, and we shut ourselves from the sight of each other.

THE SANDWICH ISLANDS GROUP.

We sailed to the Sandwich Islands at the request of our agents at San Francisco to obtain freight for China. We sailed by the whole group, in fine weather. A sudden bend in our course brought us at once within sight of Honolulu, thirty days from San Francisco. After looking at the volcanic ridges of the group, precipitous, shapeless, barren, the red earth and stones making you feel as though they had not wholly cooled, it was a pleasing surprise to have this immediate view of the town, looking as though it had always been there, suggesting no signs of a feeble settlement making effort to live. The church spire, the neat cottages, the signs of husbandry, the cattle, the roads traversed by handsome horses with good carriages, the pendulous waving branches, and the banana, softening the sterner features of nature, made at once an impression which was prepossessing.

We anchored where we were advised by the pilot to do so. But we were too near the reef to feel safe should we have a gale. The wind was blowing so as to make it evidently most uncomfortable if not hazardous to land, at least for ladies or invalids. The captain felt obliged to venture in the native boat, which the Hawaian boatmen declared to be safe, though the great sail was out of proportion to the small craft, judged by our nautical measurement. We concluded to allow him to go ashore as an experiment; but we could more unhesitatingly have insured him around Cape Horn in his ship than in that boat going through that surf over the bar. We watched him gaining on the breakers one after another, expecting every moment to see him in the waves, till with the spy glass we could see that the shore was safely reached. He was to send back word whether we might venture to take passage in one of the native boats, and what length of time his business would require him to remain at this port. He sent back word that he found no freight; that nothing seemed to warrant our remaining, that if we came ashore it would be only for one hour, it being then not far from sun down. We had kind messages from Rev. Dr. Judd, who offered to ask Capt. Truxton, of the U. S. vessel “Jamestown,” to send his yawl for us if we would stay. H. M. Whitney, Esq., editor of the Honolulu Commercial, politely sent us an invitation to his house during our visit should we come ashore. Rev. Hiram Bingham, and S. B. Dole, Esq., both sons of missionaries, came off to see us, inviting us to a meeting of “Cousins” which was to be held that evening. The temptation was for every reason very great. We had anticipated this visit for a long time; indeed it had seemed a prominent event of the voyage in our anticipation; it would surely be so in our memories. We could not hope to have such an opportunity again to see these islands, to have intercourse with these missionary friends. But had we any right to detain the ship, lying as she must do, close to the reef? We saw that, once on shore, the inducement to make a tour of several days to visit missionary stations, to look upon the faces of some whom we remembered as having gone from our shores, some whose faces and forms we should find imprinted with the signs of honorable service; and then to see that world renowned volcano, the scene of that gigantic tidal wave, to observe how it lifted itself up, to take its measurements, to note the way of its fearful retreat, all this would be an expenditure of time and strength which we did not feel at liberty to make.

Messrs. Bingham and Dole remained on board till we weighed anchor. They proposed that we should sing a hymn: “My days are gliding swiftly by;” our cabinet organ joining to leave our notes of worship impressed on those beloved shores. Because our unseen friends “did not detain us” while we were flying from them, we were the more affected by the thoughts of them, and by imagining the interchange which we should have had of profitable conversation. Everything which we bore away with us deepened our regret at parting.—The attractive style in which the Honolulu Advertiser was made up and printed, gave me very favorable impressions of the state of the practical arts in Honolulu. For several weeks we were refreshed by the largest and sweetest oranges and the best bananas which I have met with in our whole voyage. There is no part of the world which I have seen which I would sooner revisit, or where I should expect greater enjoyment from very many sources than the Sandwich Islands. In a fine moonlight Saturday evening we sailed away from this most interesting group.

* * * * *

Of all the bright days which have gladdened our way, none have surpassed those which we spent in going from the Sandwich Islands to China. Existence was a charm in that beautiful climate, that trade-wind region. Thirty-three days of perfect weather, one succeeding another with seemingly new beauty, made us feel that we had left this world of storms. If I ever need an emblem of perfect peace, the voyage from the Sandwich Islands to China will be sure to revive in my memory.

THE BASHEE IMAGE. [Page 171].