CHAPTER XIII.

THE COLUMBIA RIVER AND PUGET SOUND--HINTS TO TOURISTS.

In less than forty-eight hours after you leave San Francisco you find

yourself crossing the bar which lies at the mouth of the Columbia River,

and laughing, perhaps, over the oft-told local tale of how a captain,

new to this region, lying off and on with his vessel, and impatiently

signaling for a pilot, was temporarily comforted by a passenger, an old

Californian, who "wondered why Jim over there couldn't take her safe over

the bar."

"Do you think he knows the soundings well enough?" asked the anxious

skipper; and was answered,

"I don't know about that, captain; but he's been taking all sorts of

things 'straight' over the bar for about twenty years, to _my_ knowledge,

and I should think he might manage the brig."

The voyage from San Francisco is almost all the way in sight of land; and

as you skirt the mountainous coast of Oregon you see long stretches of

forest, miles of tall firs killed by forest fires, and rearing their bare

heads toward the sky like a vast assemblage of bean-poles--a barren view

which you owe to the noble red man, who, it is said, sets fire to these

great woods in order to produce for himself a good crop of blueberries.

When, some years ago, Walk-in-the-Water, or Red Cloud, or some other

Colorado chief, asserted in Washington the right of the Indian to hunt

buffalo, on the familiar ground that he _must_ live, a journalist given to

figures demolished the Indian position by demonstrating that a race which

insisted on living on buffalo meat required about sixteen thousand acres

of land per head for its subsistence, which is more than even we can

spare. One wonders, remembering these figures, how many millions of feet

of first-class lumber are sacrificed to provide an Indian rancheria in

Oregon with huckleberries.

On the second morning of your voyage you enter the Columbia River, and

stop, on the right bank, near the mouth, at a place famous in history and

romance, and fearfully disappointing to the actual view--Astoria. When

you have seen it, you will wish you had passed it by unseen. I do not

know precisely how it ought to have looked to have pleased my fancy, and

realized the dreams of my boyhood, when I read Bonneville's "Journal" and

Irving's "Astoria," and imagined Astoria to be the home of romance and of

picturesque trappers. Any thing less romantic than Astoria is to-day you

can scarcely imagine; and what is worse yet, your first view shows you

that the narrow, broken, irreclaimably rough strip of land never had space

for any thing picturesque or romantic.

Astoria, in truth, consists of a very narrow strip of hill-side, backed by

a hill so steep that they can shoot timber down it, and inclosed on every

side by dense forests, high, steep hills, and mud flats. It looks like

the rudest Western clearing you ever saw. Its brief streets are paved with

wood; its inhabitants wear their trowsers in their boots; if you step off

the pavement you go deep into the mud; and ten minutes' walk brings you

to the "forest primeval," which, picturesque as it may be in poetry, I

confess to be dreary and monotonous in the extreme in reality.

There are but few remains of the old trapper station--one somewhat large

house is the chief relic; but there is a saw-mill, which seems to make,

with all its buzz and fuzz, scarcely an appreciable impression upon the

belt of timber which so shuts in Astoria that I thought I had scarcely

room in it to draw a full breath; and over to the left they pointed out

to me the residence of a gentleman--a general, I think he was--who came

hither twenty-six years ago in some official position, and had after a

quarter of a century gained what looked to me from the steamer's deck like

a precarious ten-acre lot from the "forest primeval," about enough room to

bury himself and family in, with a probability that the firs would crowd

them into the Columbia River if the saw-mill should break down.

On the voyage up I said to an Oregonian, "You have a good timber country,

I hear?" and his reply seemed to me at the time extravagant. "Timber?" he

said; "timber--till you can't sleep." When I had spent a day and a half at

anchor abreast of Astoria, the words appeared less exaggerated. Wherever

you look you see only timber; tall firs, straight as an arrow, big as the

California redwoods, and dense as a Southern canebrake. On your right is

Oregon--its hill-sides a forest so dense that jungle would be as fit

a word for it as timber; on the left is Washington Territory, and its

hill-sides are as densely covered as those of the nearer shore. This

interminable, apparently impenetrable, thicket of firs exercised upon my

mind, I confess, a gloomy, depressing influence. The fresh lovely green

of the evergreen foliage, the wonderful arrowy straightness of the trees,

their picturesque attitude where they cover headlands and reach down

to the very water's edge, all did not make up to me for their dreary

continuity of shade.

Astoria, however, means to grow. It has already a large hotel, which the

timber has crowded down against the tide-washed flats; a saw-mill, which

is sawing away for dear life, because if it stopped the forest would

doubtless push it into the river, on whose brink it has courageously

effected a lodgment; some tan-yards, shops, and "groceries;" and if you

should wish to invest in real estate here, you can do so with the help of

a "guide," which is distributed on the steamer, and tells you of numerous

bargains in corner lots, etc.; for here, as in that part of the West which

lies much farther east, people live apparently only to speculate in real

estate.

An occasional flash of broad humor enlivens some of the land circulars and

advertisements. I found one on the hotel table headed "Homes," with the

following sample:

221 ACRES,

Four miles east of Silverton; frame house and a log house (can

live in either); log barn; 20 acres in cultivation; 60 acres

timber land; balance pasture land; well watered. We will sell

this place for $1575. Will throw in a cook stove and all the

household furniture, consisting of a frying-pan handle and

a broomstick; also a cow and a yearling calf; also one bay

heifer; also 8400 lbs. of hay, minus what the above-named

stock have consumed during the winter; also 64 bushels of

oats, subject to the above-mentioned diminution. If sold,

we shall have left on our hands one of the driest and

ugliest-looking old bachelors this side of the grave, which

we will cheerfully throw in if at all acceptable to the

purchaser. Old maids and rich widows are requested to give

their particular attention to this special offer. Don't pass

by on the other side.

* * * * *

HOME, SWEET HOME!

Be it ever so humble, there's no place like Home!

We still have a few more "Sweet Homes" for sale, consisting

of, etc., etc., etc.

[Illustration: pointing finger] Title perfect--a Warrantee

Deed from the hub of the earth to the top of the skies, and

Uncle Sam's Patent to back us!

A further-reaching title one could scarcely require.

I don't know where I got the belief that the Columbia was a second-rate

river. There must have been some blunder in the geographies out of which I

got my lessons and my notions of the North-west coast at school. Possibly,

too, the knowledge that navigation is interrupted by rapids at the

Cascades and Dalles contributed to form an impression conspicuously wrong.

In fact, the Columbia is one of the great rivers of the world. It seems to

me larger, as it is infinitely grander, than the Mississippi.

Between Astoria and the junction of the Willamette its breadth, its depth,

its rapid current, and the vast body of water it carries to sea reminded

me of descriptions I had read of the Amazon; and I suspect the Columbia

would rank with that stream were it not for the unlucky obstructions at

the Cascades and Dalles, which divide the stream into two unequal parts.

[Illustration: SALEM, CAPITAL OF OREGON.]

For ten miles above Astoria the river is so wide that it forms really a

vast bay. Then it narrows somewhat, and the channel approaches now one

and then the other of its bold, picturesque shores, which often for miles

resemble the Palisades of the Hudson in steepness, and exceed them in

height. But even after it becomes narrower the river frequently widens

into broad, open, lake-like expanses, which are studded with lovely

islands, and wherever the shore lowers you see, beyond, grand mountain

ranges snow-clad and amazingly fine.

The banks are precipitous nearly all the way to the junction of the

Willamette, and there is singularly little farming country on the

immediate river. Below Kalama there are few spots where there is even room

for a small farmstead. But along this part of the river are the "salmon

factories," whence come the Oregon salmon, which, put up in tin cans, are

now to be bought not only in our Eastern States, but all over the world.

The fish are caught in weirs, in gill nets, as shad are caught on the

Hudson, and this is the only part of the labor performed by white men. The

fishermen carry the salmon in boats to the factory--usually a large frame

building erected on piles over the water--and here they fall into the

hands of Chinese, who get for their labor a dollar a day and their food.

The salmon are flung up on a stage, where they lie in heaps of a thousand

at a time, a surprising sight to an Eastern person, for in such a pile

you may see many fish weighing from thirty to sixty pounds. The work

of preparing them for the cans is conducted with exact method and great

cleanliness, water being abundant. One Chinaman seizes a fish and cuts off

his head; the next slashes off the fins and disembowels the fish; it then

falls into a large vat, where the blood soaks out--a salmon bleeds like a

bull--and after soaking and repeated washing in different vats, it falls

at last into the hands of one of a gang of Chinese whose business it is,

with heavy knives, to chop the fish into chunks of suitable size for the

tins. These pieces are plunged into brine, and presently stuffed into the

cans, it being the object to fill each can as full as possible with fish,

the bone being excluded.

The top of the can, which has a small hole pierced in it, is then soldered

on, and five hundred tins set on a form are lowered into a huge kettle of

boiling water, where they remain until the heat has expelled all the air.

Then a Chinaman neatly drops a little solder over each pin-hole, and after

another boiling, the object of which is, I believe, to make sure that the

cans are hermetically sealed, the process is complete, and the salmon are

ready to take a journey longer and more remarkable even than that which

their progenitors took when, seized with the curious rage of spawning,

they ascended the Columbia, to deposit their eggs in its head waters, near

the centre of the continent.

I was assured by the fishermen that the salmon do not decrease in numbers

or in size, yet in this year, 1873, more than two millions of pounds were

put up in tin cans on the Lower Columbia alone, besides fifteen or twenty

thousand barrels of salted salmon.

From Astoria to Portland is a distance of one hundred and ten miles, and

as the current is strong, the steamer requires ten or twelve hours to make

the trip. As you approach the mouth of the Willamette you meet more

arable land, and the shores of this river are generally lower, and often

alluvial, like the Missouri and Mississippi bottoms; and here you find

cattle, sheep, orchards, and fields; and one who is familiar with the

agricultural parts of California notices here signs of a somewhat severer

climate, in more substantial houses; and the evidence of more protracted

rains, in green and luxuriant grasses at a season when the pastures of

California have already begun to turn brown.

Portland is a surprisingly well-built city, with so many large shops, so

many elegant dwellings, and other signs of prosperity, as will make you

credit the assertion of its inhabitants, that it contains more wealth in

proportion to its population than any other town in the United States.

It lies on the right bank of the Willamette, and is the centre of a

large commerce. Its inhabitants seemed to me to have a singular fancy

for plate-glass fronts in their shops and hotels, and even in the private

houses, which led me at first to suppose that there must be a glass

factory near at hand. It is all, I believe, imported.

From Portland, which you can see in a day, and whose most notable sight is

a fine view of Mount Hood, obtainable from the hills back of the city, the

sight-seer makes his excursions conveniently in various directions; and

as the American traveler is always in a hurry, it is perhaps well to show

what time is needed:

To the Dalles and Celilo, and return to Portland, three days.

To Victoria, Vancouver's Island, and return to Portland, including the

tour of Puget Sound, seven days.

To San Francisco, overland, by railroad to Roseburg, thence by stage to

Redding, and rail to San Francisco, seventy-nine hours.

[Illustration: SEATTLE, WASHINGTON TERRITORY.]

Thus you may leave San Francisco by steamer for Portland, see the Dalles,

the Cascades, Puget Sound, Victoria, the Willamette Valley, and the

magnificent mountain scenery of Southern Oregon and Northern California,

and be back in San Francisco in less than three weeks, making abundant

allowance for possible though not probable detentions on the road. The

time absolutely needed for the tour is but seventeen days.

Of course he who "takes a run over to California" from, the East,

predetermined to be back in his office or shop within five or six weeks

from the day he left home, can not see the Columbia River and Puget Sound.

But travelers are beginning to discover that it is worth while to spend

some months on the Pacific coast; some day, I do not doubt, it will be

fashionable to go across the continent; and those whose circumstances

give them leisure should not leave the Pacific without seeing Oregon and

Washington Territory. In the few pages which follow, my aim is to smooth

the way for others by a very simple account of what I myself saw and

enjoyed.

[Illustration: VICTORIA, BRITISH COLUMBIA.]

And first as to the Cascades and the Dalles of the Columbia. You leave

Portland for Dalles City in a steamboat at five o'clock in the morning.

The better way is to sleep on board this steamer, and thus avoid an

uncomfortably early awakening. Then when you do rise, at six or half past,

you will find yourself on the Columbia, and steaming directly at Mount

Hood, whose splendid snow-covered peak seems to bar your way but a short

distance ahead. It lies, in fact, a hundred miles off; and when you have

sailed some hours toward it the river makes a turn, which leaves the snowy

peak at one side, and presently hides it behind the steep bank.

The little steamer, very clean and comfortable, affords you an excellent

breakfast, and some amusement in the odd way in which she is managed. Most

of the river steamers here have their propelling wheel at the stern; they

have very powerful engines, which drive them ahead with surprising speed.

I have gone sixteen miles an hour in one, with the current; and when they

make a landing the pilot usually runs the boat's head slantingly against

the shore, and passengers and freight are taken in or landed over the

bow. At the wood-pile on the shore you may generally see one of the people

called "Pikes," whom you will recognize by a very broad-brimmed hat, a

frequent squirting of tobacco-juice, and the possession of two or three

hounds, whom they call hereabouts "hound-dogs," as we say "bull-dog." And

this reminds me that in Oregon the country people usually ask you if you

will eat an "egg-omelet;" and they speak of pork--a favorite food of the

Pike--as "hog-meat."

The voyage up the river presents a constant succession of wild and

picturesque scenery; immense rocky capes jut out into the broad stream;

for miles the banks are precipitous, like the Hudson River Palisades, only

often much higher, and for other miles the river has worn its channel out

of the rock, whose face looks bare and clean cut, as though it had been

of human workmanship. The first explorer of the Columbia, even if he was

a very commonplace mortal, must have passed days of the most singular

exhilaration, especially if he ascended the stream in that season when the

skies are bright and blue, for it seems to me one of the most magnificent

sights in the world. I am not certain that the wildness does not oppress

one a little after a while, and there are parts of the river where the

smoothly cut cliffs, coming precipitously down to the water's edge, and

following down, sheer down, to the river's bottom, make you think with

terror of the unhappy people who might here be drowned, with this cold

rock within their reach, yet not affording them even a momentary support.

I should like to have seen the rugged cliffs relieved here and there by

the softness of smooth lawns, and some evidences that man had conquered

even this rude and resisting nature.

But for a century or two to come the traveler will have to do without

this relief; nor need he grumble, for, with all its rugged grandeur, the

scenery has many exquisite bits where nature has a little softened its

aspect. Nor is it amiss to remember that but a little way back from the

river there are farms, orchards, cattle, and sheep. At one point the boat

for a moment turned her bow to the shore to admit a young man, who brought

with him a wonderful bouquet of wild flowers, which he had gathered at

his home a few miles back; and here and there, where the hill-sides have a

more moderate incline, you will see that some energetic pioneer has carved

himself out a farm.

Nevertheless it is with a sense of relief at the change that you at last

approach a large island, a flat space of ten or twelve hundred acres,

with fences and trees and grain fields and houses, and with a gentle and

peaceful aspect, doubly charming to you when you come upon it suddenly,

and fresh from the preceding and somewhat appalling grandeur. Here the

boat stops; for you are here at the lower end of the famous Cascades,

and you tranship yourself into cars which carry you to the upper end, a

distance of about six miles, where again you take boat for Dalles City.

[Illustration: MAP OF PUGET SOUND AND VICINITY.]

The Cascades are rapids. The river, which has ever a swift and impetuous

current, is nearly two miles wide just above these rapids. Where the bed

shoals it also narrows, and the great body of water rushes over the rocks,

roaring, tumbling, foaming--a tolerably wild sight. There is nowhere any

sudden descent sufficient to make a water-fall; but there is a fall of a

good many feet in the six miles of cascades.

These rapids are considered impassable, though I believe the Indians used

sometimes to venture down them in canoes; and it was my good fortune to

shoot down them in a little steamer--the _Shoshone_--the third only, I was

told, which had ever ventured this passage. The singular history of this

steamboat shows the vast extent of the inland navigation made possible

by the Columbia and its tributaries. She was built in 1866 on the Snake

River, at a point ninety miles from Boise City, in Idaho Territory, and

was employed in the upper waters of the Snake, running to near the mouth

of the Bruneau, within one hundred and twenty-five miles of the head of

Salt Lake.

When the mining excitement in that region subsided there ceased to be

business for her, and her owner determined to bring her to Portland. She

passed several rapids on the Snake, and at a low stage of water was run

over the Dalles. Then she had to wait nearly a year until high water on

the Cascades, and finally passed those rapids, and carried her owner, Mr.

Ainsworth, who was also for this passage of the Cascades her pilot, and

myself safely into Portland.

We steamed from Dalles City about three o'clock on an afternoon so windy

as to make the Columbia very rough. When we arrived at the head of the

Cascades we found the shore lined with people to watch our passage through

the rapids. As we swept into the foaming and roaring waters the engine was

slowed a little, and for a few minutes the pilots had their hands full;

for the fierce currents, sweeping her now to one side and then to the

other, made the steering extraordinarily difficult. At one point there

seemed a probability that we should be swept on to the rocks; and it was

very curious to stand, as General Sprague and I, the only passengers, did,

in front of the pilot-house, and watch the boat's head swing against the

helm and toward the rocks, until at last, after half a minute of suspense,

she began slowly to swing back, obedient to her pilot's wish.

We made six miles in eleven minutes, which is at the rate of more than

thirty miles per hour, a better rate of speed than steamboats commonly

attain. Of course it is impossible to drive a vessel up the Cascades, and

a steamboat which has once passed these rapids remains forever below.

At the upper end of the Cascades a boat awaits you, which carries you

through yet more picturesque scenery to Dalles City, where you spend the

night. This is a small place, remarkable to the traveler chiefly for the

geological collection which every traveler ought to see, belonging to

the Rev. Mr. Condon, a very intelligent and enthusiastic geologist,

the Presbyterian minister of the place. You have also at Dalles City a

magnificent view of Mount Hood, and Mr. Condon will tell you that he has

seen this old crater emit smoke since he has lived here.

There is no doubt that both Mount Hood and Mount St. Helens have still

internal fires, though both their craters are now filled up with ashes.

There is reason to believe that at its last period of activity Mount Hood

emitted only ashes; for there are still found traces of volcanic ashes,

attributable, I am told, to this mountain, as far as one hundred miles

from its summit. Of Mount St. Helens it is probable that its slumbering

fires are not very deeply buried. A few years ago two adventurous citizens

of Washington Territory were obliged, by a sudden fog and cold storm, to

spend a night near its summit, and seeking for some cave among the lava

where to shelter themselves from the storm, found a fissure from which

came so glowing and immoderate a heat that they could not bear its

vicinity, and, as they related, were alternately frozen and scorched all

night--now roasting at the volcanic fire, and again rushing out to cool

themselves in the sleet and snow.

[Illustration: THE DUKE OF YORK. QUEEN VICTORIA. Puget Sound Chiefs.]

The rocks are volcanic from near the mouth of the Willamette to and above

the Dalles, and geologists suppose that there have been great convulsions

of nature hereabouts in recent geological times. The Indians have

a tradition, indeed, that the river was originally navigable and

unobstructed where now are the Cascades, and that formerly there was a

long, natural tunnel, through which the Columbia passed under a mountain.

They assert that a great earthquake broke down this tunnel, the site

of which they still point out, and that the debris formed the present

obstructions at the Cascades.

Oregon, if one may judge by the fossil remains in Mr. Condon's collection,

seems once to have been inhabited by a great number and variety of

pre-adamite beasts; but the most singular object he has to show is a very

striking ape's head, carved with great spirit and vigor out of hard lava.

This object was found upon the shore of the Columbia by Indians, after

a flood which had washed away a piece of old alluvial bank. The rock of

which it is composed is quite hard; the carving is, as I said, done with

remarkable vigor; and the top of the head is hollowed out, precisely as

the Indians still make shallow depressions in figures and heads which

they carve out of slate, in which to burn what answers in their religious

ceremonies for incense.

But supposing this relic to belong to Oregon--and there is, I was told,

no reason to believe otherwise--where did the Indian who carved it get his

idea of an ape? The Indians of this region, poor creatures that they are,

have still the habit of carving rude figures out of slate and other

soft rocks. They have also the habit of cutting out shallow, dish-like

depressions in the heads of such figures, wherein to burn incense. But

they could not give Mr. Condon any account of the ape's head they brought

him, nor did they recognize its features as resembling any object or

creature familiar to them even by tradition.

The Dalles of the Columbia are simply a succession of falls and rapids,

not reaching over as great a distance as the Cascades, but containing one

feature much more remarkable than any thing which the Cascades afford, and

indeed, so far as I know, found nowhere else.

The Columbia above the Dalles is still a first-class river, comparable

in depth and width, and in the volume of its water, only with the Lower

Mississippi or the Amazon. It is a deep, rapidly-flowing stream, nearly a

mile wide. But at one point in the Dalles the channel narrows until it is,

at the ordinary height of the river, not over a hundred yards wide; and

through this narrow gorge the whole volume of the river rushes for some

distance. Of course water is not subject to compression; the volume of the

river is not diminished; what happens, as you perceive when you see this

singular freak of nature, is that the river is suddenly turned up on its

edge. Suppose it is, above the Dalles, a mile wide and fifty feet deep;

at the narrow gorge it is but a hundred yards wide--how deep must it be?

Certainly it can be correctly said that the stream is turned up on its

edge.

The Dalles lie five or six miles above Dalles City; and you pass these

rapids in the train which bears you to Celilo early the next morning

after you arrive at Dalles City. Celilo is not a town; it is simply

a geographical point; it is the spot where, if you were bound to the

interior of the continent by water, you would take steamboat. There is

here a very long shed to shelter the goods which are sent up into this

far-away and, to us Eastern people, unknown interior; there is a wharf

where land the boats when they return from a journey of perhaps a thousand

miles on the Upper Columbia or the Snake; there are two or three laborers'

shanties--and that is all there is of Celilo; and your journey thither

has been made only that you may see the Dalles, and Cape Horn, as a bold

promontory on the river is called.

What I advise you to do is to take a hearty lunch with you, and, if you

can find one, a guide, and get off the early Celilo train at the Dalles.

You will have a most delightful day among very curious scenery; will

see the Indians spearing salmon in the pools over which they build their

stages; and can examine at leisure the curious rapids called the Dalles.

A party of three or four persons could indeed spend several days very

pleasantly picnicking about the Dalles, and in the season they would shoot

hare and birds enough to supply them with meat. The weather in this part

of Oregon, east of the Cascade range, is as settled as that of California,

so that there is no risk in sleeping-out-of-doors in summer.

There is a singularly sudden climatic change between Western and Eastern

Oregon; and if you ask the captain or pilot on the boat which plies

between the Cascades and Dalles City, he can show you the mountain range

on one side of which the climate is wet, while on the other side it is

dry. The Cascade range is a continuation northward of the Sierra Nevada;

and here, as farther south, it stops the water-laden winds which rush up

from the sea. Western Oregon, lying between the Cascades and the ocean,

has so much rain that its people are called "Web-feet;" Eastern Oregon, a

vast grazing region, has comparatively little rain. Western Oregon, except

in the Willamette and Rogue River valleys, is densely timbered; Eastern

Oregon is a country of boundless plains, where they irrigate their few

crops, and depend mainly on stock-grazing. This region is as yet sparsely

settled; and when we in the East think of Oregon, or read of it even, it

is of that part of the huge State which lies west of the Cascades, and

where alone agriculture is carried on to a considerable extent.

You will spend a day in returning from the Dalles to Portland, and

arriving there in the evening can set out the next morning for Olympia,

on Puget Sound, by way of Kalama, which is the Columbia River terminus

for the present of the Northern Pacific Railroad. It is possible to go

by steamer from Portland to Victoria, and then return down Puget Sound to

Olympia; but to most people the sea-voyage is not enticing, and there are

but slight inconveniences in the short land journey. The steamer leaving

Portland at six A.M. lands you at Kalama about eleven; there you get

dinner, and proceed about two by rail to Olympia. It is a good plan to

telegraph for accommodations on the pretty and comfortable steamer _North

Pacific_, and go directly to her on your arrival at Olympia.

Puget Sound is one of the most picturesque and remarkable sheets of water

in the world; and the voyage from Olympia to Victoria, which shows you the

greater part of the Sound, is a delightful and novel excursion, specially

to be recommended to people who like to go to sea without getting

sea-sick; for these land-encircled waters are almost always smooth.

When, at Kalama, you enter Washington Territory, your ears begin to be

assailed by the most barbarous names imaginable. On your way to Olympia

by rail you cross a river called the Skookum-Chuck; your train stops at

places named Newaukum, Tumwater, and Toutle; and if you seek further, you

will hear of whole counties labeled Wahkiakum, or Snohomish, or Kitsap, or

Klikatat; and Cowlitz, Hookium, and Nenolelops greet and offend you. They

complain in Olympia that Washington Territory gets but little immigration;

but what wonder? What man, having the whole American continent to chose

from, would willingly date his letters from the county of Snohomish, or

bring up his children in the city of Nenolelops? The village of Tumwater

is, as I am ready to bear witness, very pretty indeed; but surely an

emigrant would think twice before he established himself either there or

at Toutle. Seattle is sufficiently barbarous; Steilacoom is no better; and

I suspect that the Northern Pacific Railroad terminus has been fixed at

Tacoma--if it is fixed there--because that is one of the few places

on Puget Sound whose name does not inspire horror and disgust.

[Illustration: NANAIMO, VANCOUVER'S ISLAND.]

Olympia, which lies on an arm of Puget Sound, and was once a town of

great expectations, surprises the traveler by its streets, all shaded with

magnificent maples. The founder of the town was a man of taste; and he

set a fashion which, being followed for a few years in this country of

abundant rains, has given Olympia's streets shade trees by the hundred

which would make it famous were it an Eastern place.

Unluckily, it has little else to charm the traveler, though it is the

capital of the Territory; and when you have spent half an hour walking

through the streets you will be quite ready to have the steamer set off

for Victoria. The voyage lasts but about thirty-six hours, and would be

shorter were it not that the steamer makes numerous landings. Thus you

get glimpses of Seattle, Steilacoom, Tacoma, and of the so-called saw-mill

ports--Port Madison, Port Gamble, Port Ludlow, and Port Townsend--the

last named being also the boundary of our Uncle Samuel's dominions for

the present, and the port of entry for this district, with a custom-house

which looks like a barn, and a collector and inspectors, the latter of

whom examine your trunk as you return from Victoria to save you from the

sin of smuggling.

From Port Townsend your boat strikes across the straits of San Juan de

Fuca to Victoria; and just here, as you are crossing from American

to English territory, you get the most magnificent views of the grand

Olympian range of mountains and of Mount Regnier. Also, the captain will

point out to you in the distance that famous island of San Juan which

formed the subject or object, or both, of our celebrated boundary dispute

with great Britain, and you will wonder how small an object can nearly

make nations go to war, and for what a petty thing we set several kings

and great lords to studying geography and treaties and international law,

and boring themselves, and filling enterprising newspapers with dozens

of columns of dull history; and you will wonder the more at the stupid

pertinacity of these English in clinging to the little island of San Juan

when you reach Victoria, and see that we shall presently take that dull

little town too, not because we want it or need it, but to save it from

perishing of inanition.

It is something to have taste and a sense of the beautiful. Certainly the

English, who discovered the little landlocked harbor of Victoria and chose

it as the site of a town, displayed both. It is by natural advantages one

of the loveliest places I ever saw, and I wonder, remote as it is, that

it is not famous. The narrow harbor, which is not so big as one of the

big Liverpool docks, is surrounded on both sides by the prettiest little

miniature bays, rock-bound, with grassy knolls, and here and there shady

clumps of evergreens; a river opening out above the town into a kind of

lake, and spanned by pretty bridges, invites you to a boating excursion;

and the fresh green of the lawn-like expanses of grass which reach into

the bay from different directions, the rocky little promontories with

boats moored near them, the fine snow-covered mountains in the distance,

and the pleasantly winding roads leading in different directions into the

country, all make up a landscape whose soft and gay aspect I suppose is

the more delightful because one comes to it from the somewhat oppressive

grandeur of the fir forests in Washington Territory.

In the harbor of Victoria the most conspicuous object is the long range of

warehouses belonging to the Hudson Bay Company, with their little trading

steamers moored alongside. These vessels bear the signs of traffic with a

savage people in the high boarding nettings which guard them from stem to

stern, and which are in their more solid parts pierced for musketry. Here,

too, you see a queer little old steamboat, the first that ever vexed

the waters of the Pacific Ocean with its paddle-wheels. And as your own

steamer hauls up to the wharf, you will notice, arrayed to receive you,

what is no doubt the most shocking and complete collection of ugly women

in the world.

These are the Indians of this region. They are very light-colored;

their complexion has an artificial look; there is something ghastly and

unnatural in the yellow of the faces, penetrated by a rose or carmine

color on the cheeks. They are hideous in all the possible aspects and

varieties of hideousness--undersized, squat, evil-eyed, pug-nosed, tawdry

in dress, ungraceful in every motion; they really mar the landscape, so

that you are glad to escape from them to your hotel, which you find a

clean and comfortable building, where, if you are as fortunate as the

traveler who relates this, you may by-and-by catch a glimpse or two of

a fresh, fair, girlish English face, which will make up to you for the

precedent ugliness.

Victoria hopes to have its dullness enlivened by a railroad from the

mainland one of these days, which may make it more prosperous, but will

probably destroy some of the charm it now has for a tourist. It can hardly

destroy the excellent roads by which you may take several picturesque

drives and walks in the neighborhood of the town, nor the pretty views you

have from the hills near by, nor the excursions by boat, in which you can

best see how much Nature has done to beautify this place, and how little

man has done so far to mar her work.

Silks and cigars are said to be very cheap in Victoria; and those who

consume these articles will probably look through the shops and make a

few purchases, not enough to satisfy, though sufficient to arouse the

suspicions of the Collector of Customs at Port Townsend. If you use your

time well, the thirty-six hours which the steamer spends at Victoria will

suffice you to see all that is of interest there to a traveler, and you

can return in her down the Sound, and make more permanent your impressions

of its scenery.

You will perhaps be startled, if you chance to overhear the conversation

of your fellow-passengers, to gather that it concerns itself chiefly with

millions, and these millions run to such extraordinary figures that you

may hear one man pitying another for the confession that he made no more

than a hundred millions last year. It is feet of lumber they are speaking

of; and when you see the monstrous piles of sawdust which encumber the

mill ports, the vast quantities of waste stuff they burn, and the huge

rafts of timber which are towed down to the mills, as well as the

ships which lie there to load for South America, Tahiti, Australia, and

California, you will not longer wonder that they talk of millions.

Some of these mills are owned by very wealthy companies, who have had the

good fortune to buy at low rates large tracts of the best timber lands

lying along the rivers and bays. A saw-mill is the centre of quite a

town--and a very rough town too, to judge from the appearance of the men

who come down to the dock to look at the steamer, and the repute of the

Indian women who go from port to port and seem at home among the mill men.

Having gone by sea to Oregon, I should advise you to return to California

overland. The journey lies by rail through the fertile Willamette Valley,

for the present the chief agricultural country of Oregon, to Roseburg, and

thence by stage over and through some of the most picturesque and grand

scenery in America, into California. If you are curious in bizarre social

experiments, you may very well stop a day at Aurora, thirty miles below

Portland, and look at some of the finest orchards in the State, the

property of a strange German community which has lived in harmony and

acquired wealth at this point.

Salem, too, the capital of Oregon, lying on the railroad fifty miles below

Portland, is worth a visit, to show you how rich a valley the Willamette

is. And as you go down by stage toward California you will enjoy a long

day's drive through the Rogue River Valley, a long, narrow, winding series

of nooks, remote, among high mountains, looking for all the world as

though in past ages a great river had swept through here, and left in its

dry bed a fertile soil, and space enough for a great number of happy and

comfortable homes.

May and June are the best months in which to see Oregon and Puget Sound.

With San Francisco as a starting-point, one may go either to Portland or

to Victoria direct. If you go first to Victoria, you save a return journey

across Puget Sound, and from Olympia to Kalama, but you miss the sail up

the Columbia from Astoria to Portland. The following table of fares will

show you the cost of traveling in the region I have described:

Time. Fare.

From San Francisco to Portland................... 3 days $30 00

From San Francisco to Victoria................... 3 " 30 00

From Portland to Celilo.......................... 1 day 7 00

Excursion tickets, good from Portland to Celilo and

back............................................. 3 days 10 00

From Portland by Olympia to Victoria............. 3 " 12 25

From Portland to San Francisco by railroad and

stage............................................ 79 hours 42 00

Meals on these journeys are extra, and cost from half a dollar to

seventy-five cents. They are generally good. All these rates are in

coin. On the steamer from San Francisco to Portland or Victoria meals are

included in the fare.

When you are once in Portland, a vast region opens itself to you, if you

are an adventurous tourist. You may take boat at Celilo, above the Dalles,

and steam up to Wallula, where you take stage for Elkton, a station on

the Pacific Railroad, in Utah; this journey shows you the heart of the

continent, and is said to abound in magnificent scenery. I have not made

it, but it is frequently done. If you have not courage for so long an

overland trip, a journey up to the mouth of Snake River and back to

Portland, which consumes but a week, will give you an intelligent idea of

the vastness of the country drained by the main body of the great Columbia

River.

The great plains and table-lands which lie east of the Cascades, and are

drained by the Columbia, the Snake, and their affluents, will some day

contain a vast population. Already enterprising pioneers are pushing into

the remotest valleys of this region. As you sail up the Columbia, you will

hear of wheat, barley, sheep, stock, wool, orchards, and rapidly growing

settlements, where, to our Eastern belief, the beaver still builds his

dams, unvexed even by the traps and rifle of the hunter.

[Illustration: ANCIENT HAWAIIAN IDOL.]

APPENDIX.

CONTRIBUTIONS OF A VENERABLE SAVAGE TO THE ANCIENT HISTORY OF THE HAWAIIAN

ISLANDS.[A]

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF M. JULES REMY, BY WILLIAM T. BRIGHAM.

[I am indebted to Mr. William T. Brigham, of Boston, the

translator of the following "Contributions of a venerable Savage,"

and the author of a valuable treatise on the volcanoes of the

Sandwich Islands, as well as of several memoirs on the natural

history of the Islands, for his kind permission to use this very

curious fragment, with his additions, in my volume. The original

I have not been able to lay my hands on. It gives a picturesque

account of the Hawaiian people before they came into relations

with foreigners. It should be remembered by the reader that

Mr. Remy is a Frenchman, and that his relations with the Roman

Catholic missionaries somewhat colored his views of the labors of

the American missionaries on the Islands.

The "contributions" in this translation of Mr. Brigham were

privately printed by him some years ago, and the following note

by him explains their origin. It will be seen that Mr. Brigham

translated the Mele, or chant of Kawelo, from the original.]

One evening, in the month of March, 1853, I landed at Hoopuloa, on the

western shore of Hawaii. Among the many natives collected on the beach

to bid me welcome and draw my canoe up over the sand, I noticed an old

man of average size, remarkably developed chest, and whose hairs,

apparently once flaxen, were hoary with age. The countenance of this

old man, at once savage and attractive, was furrowed across the

forehead with deep and regular wrinkles. His only garment was a shirt

of striped calico.

A sort of veneration with which his countrymen seemed to me to regard him

only increased the desire I at first felt to become acquainted with

the old islander. I was soon told that his name was Kanuha, that he

was already a lad when Alapai[1] died (about 1752), that he had known

Kalaniopuu, Cook, and Kamehameha the Great. When I learned his name

and extraordinary age, I turned toward Kanuha, extending my hand. This

attention flattered him, and disposed him favorably toward me. So I

resolved to take advantage of this lucky encounter to obtain from an

eye-witness an insight into Hawaiian customs before the arrival of

Europeans.

A hut of pandanus had been prepared for me upon the lava by the care of

a missionary. I made the old man enter, and invited him to partake of my

repast of poi,[2] cocoa-nut, raw fish, and roast dog. While eating the poi

with full fingers, Kanuha assured me that he had lived under King Alapai,

and had been his runner, as well as the courier of Kalaniopuu, his

successor. So great had been Kanuha's strength in his youth that, at the

command of his chiefs, he had in a single day accomplished the distance

from Hoopuloa to Hilo, more than forty French leagues. When Cook died, in

1779, the little children of Kanuha's children had been born. When I spoke

of Alapai to my old savage, he told me that _it seemed to him a matter of

yesterday_; of Cook, _it was a thing of to-day_.

From these facts it may be believed that Kanuha was not less than one

hundred and sixteen years old when I met him on this occasion. This

remarkable example of longevity was by no means unique at the Hawaiian

Islands a few years since. Father Maréchal knew at Ka'u, in 1844, an

aged woman who remembered perfectly having seen Alapai. I had occasion to

converse at Kauai with an islander who was already a grandfather when he

saw Captain Cook die. I sketched, at this very Hoopuloa, the portrait of

an old woman, still vigorous, Meawahine, who told any who would hear her

that her breasts were completely developed when her chief gave her as wife

to the celebrated English navigator.

Old Kanuha was the senior of all these centenaries. I took advantage of

his willing disposition to draw from him the historical treasures with

which his memory was stored. Here, in my own order, is what he told me

during a night of conversation, interrupted only by the Hawaiian dances

(_hulahula_), and by some pipes of tobacco smoked in turn, in the custom

of the country.

OF GOVERNMENT AND SOCIETY WITH THE ANCIENT HAWAIIANS.

The soil was the property of the king, who reserved one part of it for

himself, assigning another to the nobles, and left the rest to the first

occupant. Property, based on a possession more or less ancient, was

transmitted by heritage; but the king could always dispose, according to

his whims, of property of chiefs and subjects, and the chiefs had the same

privilege over the people.

Taxes were not assessed on any basis. The king levied them whenever it

seemed good to him, and almost always in an arbitrary way. The chiefs

also, and the priests, received a tribute from the people. The tax was

always in kind, and consisted of:

Kalo, raw and made into poi; Potatoes (_Convolvulus batatas_, L.) many

varieties; Bananas (_maia_) of different kinds; Cocoa-nuts (called _niu_

by the natives); Dogs (destined for food);[3] Hogs; Fowls; Fish, crabs,

cuttle-fish, shell-fish; Kukui nuts (_Aleurites moluccana_) for making

relishes, and for illumination; Edible sea-weed (_limu_); Edible ferns

(several species, among others the _hapuu_); Awa (_Piper methysticum_,

Forst.); Ki roots (_Cordyline ti_, Schott.), a very saccharine vegetable;

Feathers of the _Oo_ (_Drepanis pacifica_), and of the _Iiwi_ (_Drepanis

coccinea_): these birds were taken with the glue of the _ulu_ or

bread-fruit (_Artocarpus incisa_); Fabrics of beaten bark (_kapa_)

and fibre of the _olona_ (_Boehmeria_), of _wauke_ (_Broussonetia

papyrifera_), of _hau_ (_Hilasens tiliasens_), etc.; Mats of Pandanus and

of Scirpus; Pili (grass to thatch houses with); Canoes (_waa_); Wood for

building; Calabashes (serving for food vessels, and to hold water); Wooden

dishes; Arms and instruments of war, etc., etc.

A labor tax was also enforced, and it was perhaps the most onerous,

because it returned almost regularly every moon for a certain number of

days. The work was principally cultivating the _loi_, or fields of kalo,

which belonged to the king or chiefs.

The Hawaiian people were divided into three very distinct classes; these

were:

1. The nobility (_Alii_), comprising the king and the chiefs of whatever

degree;

2. The clergy (_Kahuna_), comprising the priests, doctors, prophets, and

sorcerers;

3. Citizens (_Makaainana_), comprising laborers, farmers, proletaries, and

slaves.

THE NOBILITY. NA'LII.

The chiefs or nobles were of several orders. The highest chief bore the

title of _Moi_, which may best be rendered by the word majesty. In a

remote period of Hawaiian history, this title was synonymous with _Ka

lani_, heaven. This expression occurs frequently in ancient poems: _Auhea

oe, e ka lani? Eia ae_. This mode of address is very poetic, and quite

pleasing to the chiefs.

The Moi was still called _kapu_ and _aliinui_. To tread on his shadow

was a crime punished with death: _He make ke ee malu_. The chief next the

throne took the title of _Wohi_. He who ranked next, that of _Mahana_.

These titles could belong at the same time to several chiefs of the

blood-royal, who were called _Alii kapu, Alii wohi_. The ordinary nobility

furnished the king's aids-de-camp, called _Hulumanu_ (plumed officers).

By the side of the nobility were the _Kahu alii_, literally guardians of

the chiefs, of noble origin by the younger branch, but who dared not claim

the title of chief in the presence of their elders. The Kahu alii of the

male sex might be considered born chamberlains; of the female, ladies of

the bed-chamber.

There were five kinds of Kahu alii, which are: Iwikuamoo, Ipukuha,

Paakahili, Kiaipoo, Aipuupuu.

These titles constituted as many hereditary charges reserved for the

lesser nobility. The functions of the Iwikuamoo (backbone of the chief)

were to rub his lord on the back, when stretched on his mat. The Ipukuha

had charge of the royal spittoons. The Paakahili carried a very long plume

(_kahili_), which he waved, around the royal person to drive away the

flies and gnats. The duties of this officer were continual and most

fatiguing, for he must constantly remain near the person of his master,

armed with his kahili, whether the king was seated or reclining, eating

or sleeping. The Kiaipoo's special charge was to watch at the side of his

august chief during sleep. The Aipuupuu was the chief cook, and, besides,

performed functions similar to those of steward or purveyor.

There were, besides, other inferior chiefs, as the _Puuku_, attendants of

the house or palace; _Malama ukana_, charged with the care of provisions

in traveling; _Aialo_, who had the privilege of eating in the presence of

the chief; and, at the present day, the _Muki baka_, who had the honor of

lighting the king's pipe and carrying his tobacco-pouch.

Although the people considered these last four orders as belonging to the

nobility, it seems that they were of lower rank than the citizens favored

by the chiefs.

Finally, the king had always in his service the _Hula_, who, like the

buffoon or jester of the French kings, must amuse his majesty by mimicry

or dancing. The _Kahu alii_, or _Kaukaualii_, as they are now styled,

are attendants or followers of the high chiefs by right of birth. They

accompany their masters everywhere, almost in the same manner that

a governess follows her pupil.[4] From the throne down nobility was

hereditary. The right of primogeniture was recognized as natural law.

Nobility transmitted through the mother was considered far superior to

that on the father's side only, even if he were the highest of chiefs.

This usage was founded on the following proverb: _Maopopo ka makuahine,

aole maopopo ka makuakane_ (It is always evident who the mother is, but

one is never sure about the father). Agreeably to this principle, the

high chiefs, when they could not find wives of a sufficiently illustrious

origin, might espouse their sisters and their nieces, or, in default of

either of these, their own mother. Nevertheless, history furnishes us

several examples of kings who were not noble on the maternal side.[5]

THE CLERGY. NA KAHUNA.

The priests formed three orders:

1. The _Kahuna_ proper. 2. The _Kaula_, or prophets. 3. The _Kilo_,

diviners or magicians.

The priesthood, properly so called (_Kahuna maoli, Kahuna pule_), was

hereditary. The priests received their titles from their fathers, and

transmitted them to their offspring, male and female, for the Hawaiians

had priestesses as well. The priest was the peer of the nobility; he had

a portion of land in all the estates of the chiefs, and sometimes acquired

such power as to be formidable to the alii. In religious ceremonies, the

priests were clothed with absolute power, and selected the victims for the

sacrifices. This privilege gave them an immense and dangerous influence in

private life, whence the Hawaiian proverb: The priest's man is inviolable,

the chief's man is the prey of death, _Aole e make ko ke kahuna kanaka, o

ko ke 'lii kanaka ke make_.

The kahuna, being clothed with supreme power in the exercise of his

functions, alone could designate the victim suitable to appease the anger

of the gods. The people feared him much for this prerogative, which gave

the power of life and death over all, and the result was that the priest

had constantly at his service an innumerable crowd of men and women wholly

devoted to him. It was not proper for him to choose victims from a people

who paid him every imaginable attention. But among the servants of the

alii, if there were any who had offended the priest or his partisans,

nothing more was necessary to condemn to death such or such an attendant

of even the highest chief. From this it may be seen how dangerous it was

not to enjoy the good graces of the kahuna, who, by his numerous clan,

might revolutionize the whole country. History affords us an example

in the Kahuna Kaleihokuu of Laupahoehoe, who had in his service so

considerable a body of retainers that he was able in a day, by a single

act of his will, to put to death the great chief Hakau, of Waipio, and

substitute in his place Umi, the bastard son (_poolua_) of King Liloa,

who had, however, been adopted by Kaleihokuu. Another example of this

remarkable power is seen in the Kahuna of Ka'u, who massacred the high

chief Kohookalani, in the neighborhood of Ninole, tumbling down upon him a

huge tree from the top of the _pali_ (precipice) of Hilea.

The _Kahuna_, especially those of the race of Paao, were the natural

depositaries of history, and took the revered title of _Mo'olelo_, or

historians. Some individuals of this stock still exist, and they are all

esteemed by the natives, and regarded as the chiefs of the historical

and priestly caste. The sacerdotal order had its origin in Paao, whose

descendants have always been regarded as the _Kahuna maoli_.[6] Paao

came from a distant land called Kahiki. According to several chiefs, his

genealogy must be more correct than that of the kings. Common tradition

declares that Paao came from foreign countries, landing on the north-west

shore of Hawaii (Kohala), at Puuepa, in the place where, to this day, are

seen the ruins of the Heiau (temple) of Mokini, the most ancient of all

the temples, and which he is said to have built. The advent of Paao and

his erection of this heiau are so ancient, according to the old men, that

Night helped the priest raise the temple: _Na ka po i kukulu ae la Mokini,

a na Paao nae_. These sayings, in the native tongue, indicate the high

antiquity of Paao.[7]

To build the temple of Mokini, which also served as a city of refuge, Paao

had stones brought from all sides, even from Pololu, a village situated

four or five leagues from Mokini or Puuepa. The Kanakas formed a chain the

whole length of the route, and passed the stones from one to another--an

easy thing in those times--from the immense population of the

neighborhood.

Paao has always been considered as the first of the Kahuna. For this

reason his descendants, independently of the fact that they are regarded

as _Mookahuna_, that is, of the priesthood, are more like nobles in the

eye of the people, and are respected by the chiefs themselves. There are,

in the neighborhood of Mokini, stones which are considered petrifactions

of the canoe, paddles, and fish-hooks of Paao.

At Pololu, toward the mountain, are found fields of a very beautiful

verdure. They are called the pastures, or grass-plots, of Paao (_Na mauu a

Paao_). The old priest cultivated these fields himself, where no one since

his time has dared to use spade or mattock. If an islander was impious

enough to cultivate the meadow of Paao, the people believe that a terrible

punishment would be the inevitable consequence of that profanation.

Disastrous rains, furious torrents, would surely ravage the neighboring

country.

Some Hawaiians pretend that there exists another sacerdotal race besides

that of Paao, more ancient even than that, and whose priests belonged at

the same time to a race of chiefs. It is the family of Maui, probably

of Maui-hope, the last of the seven children of Hina,[8] the same who

captured the sea-monster Piimoe. The origin of this race, to which Naihe

of Kohala pretends to belong, is fabulous. Since the reign of Kamehameha,

the priests of the order of Maui have lost favor.

The second class of the clergy was composed of the prophets (_Kaula_),

an inoffensive and very respectable people, who gave vent to their

inspiration from time to time in unexpected and uncalled-for prophesies.

The third order of the clergy is that of _Kilo_, diviners or magicians.

With these may be classed the _Kilokilo_, the _Kahunalapaau_ and

_Kahunaanaana_, a sort of doctors regarded as sorcerers, to whom was

attributed the power of putting to death by sorcery and witchcraft.[9] The

Kahunaanaana and the Kahunalapaau have never been considered as belonging

to the high caste of Kahuna maoli.

The Kahunaanaana, or sorcerers, inherited their functions. They were

thoroughly detested, and the people feared them, and do to this day. When

the chiefs were dissatisfied with a sorcerer, they had his head cut off

with a stone axe (_koipohaku_), or cast him from the top of a pali.

The doctors were of two kinds. The first, the Kahunalapaau proper,

comprised all who used plants in the treatment of disease. Just as the

sorcerers understood poisonous vegetables, so the doctors knew the simples

which furnished remedies to work cures. The second kind comprised the

spiritual doctors, who had various names, and who seem to have been

intermediate between priests and magicians, sharing at once in the

attributes of both. They were:

_Kahuna uhane_, the doctors of ghosts and spirits;

_Kahuna makani_, doctors of winds;

_Kahuna hoonohonoho akua_, who caused the gods to descend on the sick;

_Kahuna aumakua_, doctors of diseases of the old;

_Kahuna Pele_, doctors or priests of Pele, goddess of volcanoes.

All the doctors of the second kind are still found in the islands,[10]

where they have remained idolaters, although they have been for the most

part baptized. There is hardly a Kanaka who has not had recourse to them

in his complaints, preferring their cures and their remedies to those

of the foreign physicians. Laws have been enacted to prohibit these

charlatans from exercising their art; but under the rule of Kamehameha

III., who protected them, these laws have not been enforced.

THE CITIZENS. NA MAKAAINANA.

The class of _Makaainana_ comprises all the inhabitants not included in

the two preceding classes; that is to say, the bulk of the people.

There were two degrees of this cast: the _kanaka wale_, freemen, private

citizens, and the _kauwa_ or servants. The Hawaiian saying, _O luna, o

lalo, kai, o uka a o ka hao pae, ko ke 'lii_ (All above, all below, the

sea, the land, and iron cast upon the shore, all belong to the king),

exactly defines the third class of the nation, called makaainana, the

class that possesses nothing, and has no right save that of sustenance.

The Hawaiians honored canoe-builders and great fishers as privileged

citizens. The chiefs themselves granted them some consideration; but it

must be confessed that the honorable position they occupied in society was

due to their skill in their calling rather than to any thing else. These

builders were generally deeply in debt. They ate in advance the price of

their labor, which usually consisted of hogs and fowls, and they died of

starvation before the leaves ceased to sprout on the tree their adze had

transformed into a canoe.

The _kauwa_, servants, must not be confounded with the _kauwa maoli_,

actual slaves. A high chief, even a wohi, would call himself without

dishonor _ke kauwa a ke 'lii nui_, the servant of the king. At present,

their excellencies the ministers and the nobles do not hesitate to sign

their names under the formula _kou kauwa_, your servant; but it is none

the less true, for all that, that formerly there were among the common

people a class, few in number, of slaves, or serfs, greatly despised by

the Hawaiians, and still to our days so lowered in public opinion that a

simple peasant refuses to associate with the descendants of this caste.

They point the finger at people of kauwa extraction, lampoon them, and

touch the soles of their feet when they speak of them, to mark the lowness

of their origin. If they were independent, and even rich, an ordinary

islander would deem himself disgraced to marry his daughter to one of

these pariahs.

The slaves were not permitted to cross the threshold of the chiefs'

palace. They could do no more than crawl on hands and knees to the door.

In spite of the many changes infused into Hawaiian institutions, the kauwa

families remain branded with a stigma, in the opinion of the natives, and

the laws, which accord them the same rights as other citizens, can not

reinstate them.

It seems certain that the origin of slavery among the Hawaiians must

be sought in conquests. The vanquished, who were made prisoners, became

slaves, and their posterity inherited their condition.

From time immemorial the islanders have clothed themselves, the men with

the _malo_, the women with the _pau_. The malo is bound around the loins,

after having passed between the legs, to cover the pudenda. The pau is a

short skirt, made of bark cloth or of the ki leaves, which reaches from

the waist half down to the knees. The old popular songs show clearly that

this costume has always been worn by the natives. To go naked was regarded

as a sign of madness, or as a mark of divine birth. Sometimes the kings

were attended by a man sprung from the gods, and this happy mortal alone

had the right to follow, _puris naturalibus_, his august master. The

people said, in speaking of him, _He akua ia_, he is a god.

_Kapa_, a kind of large sheet in which the chiefs dressed themselves, was

made of the soaked and beaten bark of several shrubs, such as the wauke,

olona, hau, oloa. Fine varieties were even made of the kukui (_Aleurites

moluccana_). In ancient times it was an offense punishable with death for

a common man to wear a double kapa or malo.

The Hawaiians have never worn shoes. In certain districts where lava is

very abundant, they make sandals (_kamaa_) with the leaves of the ki and

pandanus. They always go bare-headed, except in battle, where they like

to exhibit themselves adorned with a sort of helmet made of twigs and

feathers.

The women never wear any thing but flowers on their heads. Tattooing was

known, but less practiced than at the Marquesas, and much more rudely.

The Hawaiians are not cannibals. They have been upbraided in Europe as

eaters of human flesh, but such is not the case. They have never killed a

man for food. It is true that in sacrifices they eat certain parts of the

victim, but there it was a religious rite, not an act of cannibalism. So,

also, when they ate the flesh of their dearest chiefs, it was to do honor

to their memory by a mark of love: they never eat the flesh of bad chiefs.

The Hawaiians do not deny that the entrails of Captain Cook were eaten;

but they insist that it was done by children, who mistook them for the

viscera of a hog, an error easily explained when it is known that the body

had been opened and stripped of as much flesh as possible, to be burned

to ashes, as was due the body of a god. The officers of the distinguished

navigator demanded his bones, but as they were destroyed,[B] those of a

Kanaka were surrendered in their stead, receiving on board the ships of

the expedition the honors intended for the unfortunate commander.

The condition of the women among the ancient Hawaiians was like that of

servants well treated by their masters. The chiefesses alone enjoyed equal

rights with men. It is a convincing proof that women were regarded as

inferior to men, that they could in no case eat with their husbands, and

that the kapu was often put upon their eating the most delicious food.

Thus bananas were prohibited on pain of death. Their principal occupations

consisted in making kapa, the malo and pau, and in preparing food.

Marriage was performed by cohabitation with the consent of the relations.

Polygamy was only practiced by the chiefs. Children were very independent,

and although their parents respected them so much as seldom to dare lay

hands on them, they were quite ready to part with them to oblige a friend

who evinced a desire for them. Often an infant was promised before birth.

This singular custom still exists, but is much less frequent.

They had little regard for old men who had become useless, and even killed

them to get them out of the way. It was allowable to suffocate infants to

avoid the trouble of bringing them up. Women bestowed their affection upon

dogs and pigs, and suckled them equally with their children. Fleas, lice,

and grasshoppers were eaten, but flies inspired an unconquerable horror;

if one fell into a calabash of poi, the whole was thrown away.[11]

The Hawaiians practiced a sort of circumcision, differing from that of

the Jews, but having the same sanitary object. This operation _(mahele)_

consisted in slitting the prepuce by means of a bamboo. The mahele has

fallen into disuse, but is still practiced in some places, unbeknown to

the missionaries, upon children eight or ten years old. A sort of priest

(kahuna) performs the operation.[12]

The Hawaiian women are always delivered without pain, except in very

exceptional cases. The first time they had occasion to witness, in the

persons of the missionaries' wives, the painful childbirths of the white

race, they could not restrain their bursts of laughter, supposing it to

be mere custom, and not pain, that could thus draw cries from the wives of

the Haole (foreigners).

The ancient Hawaiians cared for their dead. They wrapped them in kapa

with fragrant herbs, such as the flowers of the sugar-cane, which had the

property of embalming them. They buried in their houses, or carried

their bodies to grottoes dug in the solid rock. More frequently they were

deposited in natural caves, a kind of catacombs, where the corpses were

preserved without putrefaction, drying like mummies. It was a sacred duty

to furnish food to the dead for several weeks. Sometimes the remains were

thrown into the boiling lava of the volcanoes, and this mode of sepulture

was regarded as homage paid to the goddess Pele, who fed principally on

human flesh.

THE STORY OF UMI; HIS BIRTH AND YOUTH.

Liloa reigned over the island of Hawaii. In the course of one of his

journeys through the province of Hamakua, he met a woman of the people

named Akahikameainoa, who pleased him, and whose favors he claimed as

supreme chief.

Akahikameainoa was then in her menses, so that the malo of the king was

soiled with the discharge. Liloa said to the woman: "If you bring into the

world a man-child, it shall belong to me; if a girl, it shall be yours.

I leave with you as tokens of my sovereign will my _niho palaoa_ (whale's

tooth), and my _lei_. Conceal these things from all eyes; they will one

day be a souvenir of our relation, a proof of the paternity of the child

who shall be born from our loves."

That would, indeed, be an unexceptionable testimony, for by the law of

kapu a wife could not, under pain of death, approach her husband while in

her courses. The soiled malo and the time of the child's birth would give

certain indications.

Akahikameainoa carefully concealed the royal tokens of her adultery,

saying nothing to any one, not even to her husband. The spot where she

hid them is known to this day as _Huna na niho_, the hiding place of the

teeth.

Liloa then held his court at Waipio in all the splendor of the time.

Besides a considerable troop of servants, he had in attendance priests

(kahuna), prophets (kaula), nobles, and his only son, Hakau. The palace

was made merry night and day by the licentious motions of the dancers, and

by the music of the resounding calabashes.

Nine moons after her meeting with the king, Akahikameainoa gave birth to

a man-child, which she called Umi, and brought up under the roof of her

husband, who believed himself the father. The child developed rapidly,

became strong, and acquired a royal stature. In his social games, in the

sports of youth, he always bore away the palm. He was, moreover, a great

eater: _Hao wale i ka ai a me ka ia_.[13] In a word, Umi was a perfect

Kanaka, and a skillful fighter, who made his comrades suffer for it.

At this time he conceived a strong affection for two peasants of the

neighborhood, Koi of Kukui-haole and Omakamau, who became his _aikane_.

One day his supposed father, angry at his conduct, was about to punish

him: "Strike him not," exclaimed Akahikameainoa, "he is your lord and

chief! Do not imagine that he is the son of us two: he is the child of

Liloa, your king." Umi was then about fifteen or sixteen years old.

His mother, after this declaration, startling as a thunder-bolt, went and

uncovered the tokens Liloa had left as proof, and placed them before her

husband, who was motionless with fear at the thought of the high treason

he had been on the point of committing.

In the mean time, Liloa had grown old, and Akahikameainoa, deeming the

moment had arrived, invested Umi with the royal malo, the niho palaoa, and

the lei, emblems of power, which high chiefs alone had the right to wear.

"Go," said she to him then; "go, my son, present yourself at Waipio to

King Liloa, your father. Tell him you are his child, and show him, in

proof of your words, these tokens which he left with me."

Umi, proud enough of the revelation of his mother, at once departs,

accompanied by Koi and Omakamau.

The palace of Liloa was surrounded by guards, priests, diviners, and

sorcerers. The kapu extended to the edge of the outer inclosure, and no

one might pass on penalty of death. Umi advanced boldly and crossed the

threshold. Exclamations and cries of death sounded in his ears from all

sides. Without troubling himself, he passed on and entered the end door.

Liloa was asleep, wrapped in his royal mantle of red and yellow feathers.

Umi stooped, and, without ceremony, uncovered his head. Liloa, awakening,

said, "_Owai la keia_?--Who is this?" "It is I," replied the youth; "it is

I, Umi, your son." So saying, he displays his malo at the king's feet.

At this token Liloa, while rubbing his eyes, recognized Umi, and had him

proclaimed his son. Behold, then, Umi admitted to the rank of high chief,

if not the equal of Hakau, his eldest son, at least his prime minister by

birth--his lieutenant.

The two brothers lived at court on an equal footing. They took part in the

same amusements, wrestling, drawing the bow, plunged with eagerness into

all the noble exercises of the country and the time. The people of Umi's

suite matched themselves with those of Hakau in the combat with the long

lance _(pololu)_, and the party of Umi was always victorious, compelling

Hakau to retire in confusion.

Liloa, perceiving that his last hour was drawing near, called his two

children to him, and said to them, "You, Hakau, will be chief, and you,

Umi, will be his man." This last expression is equivalent to viceroy or

prime minister. The two brothers bowed, in token of assent, and the

old chief continued: "Do you, Hakau, respect your man; and do you, Umi,

respect your sovereign. If you, Hakau, have no consideration for your

man, if you quarrel with him, I am not disturbed at the results of your

conduct. In the same way, Umi, unless you render your sovereign the homage

you owe him, if you rebel against him, it will be for you two to decide

your lot." Soon after, having made known his last wishes, Liloa gave up

the ghost.

Umi, who was of a proud and independent character, foreseeing, no doubt,

even then, the wicked conduct of his brother, would not submit to him,

and refused to appear in his presence. Giving up his share of power,

he departed from Waipio with his two _aikane_, and retired into the

mountains, where he gave himself up to bird-catching.

Hakau then reigned alone, and ruled according to his fancy. Abusing his

authority, he made himself feared, but, at the same time, detested by his

people. He brought upon himself the censure of the chief attendants of his

father, whom he provoked by all sorts of humiliations and insults. If he

saw any one of either sex remarkable for good looks, he had them tattooed

in a frightful manner for his good pleasure.

Meanwhile Umi, who had a taste for savage life, had taken leave of his

favorites, and wandered alone in the midst of the forests and mountains.

One day, when he descended to the shore at Laupahoehoe, in the district

of Hilo, he fell in love with a woman of the people, and made her his

companion without arousing a suspicion of his high birth. Devoting

himself, then, to field labor, he was seen sometimes cultivating the

ground, and sometimes going down to the sea to fish.

By generous offerings, he knew how to skillfully flatter an old man named

Kaleihokuu, an influential priest, who at last adopted him as one of his

children. Umi always kept at the head of the farmers and fishermen, and

a considerable number, recognizing his physical superiority, voluntarily

enrolled themselves under his orders and those of his foster-father;

he was only known by the name of Hanai (foster-child) of Kaleihokuu.

Meditating probably, even then, a way of acquiring supreme power, Umi

exerted himself to gain the sympathies of the people, in whose labors he

took an incredible part. There are seen to this day, above Laupahoehoe,

the fields which Umi cultivated, and near the sea can be seen the heiau,

or temple, in which Kaleihokuu offered sacrifices to the gods.

Hakau continued to reign, always without showing the least respect to the

old officers of Liloa, his father. Two old men, high chiefs by birth, and

highly honored under the preceding reign, had persisted in residing near

the palace at Waipio, in spite of the insults to which the nearness of the

court exposed them. One day when they were hungry, after a long scarcity

of food, they said to one of their attendants: "Go to the palace of Hakau.

Tell his Majesty that the two old chiefs are hungry, and demand of him, in

our name, food, fish, and awa."[14] The attendant went at once to the king

to fulfill his mission. Hakau replied with foul and insulting terms: "Go

tell the two old men that they shall have neither food, fish, nor awa!"

The two chiefs, on hearing this cruel reply, commenced to deplore their

lot, and regret more bitterly than ever the time they lived under Liloa.

Then rousing themselves, they said to their attendant, "We have heard of

the foster-son of Kaleihokuu, of his activity, courage, and generosity.

Lose no time; go directly to Laupahoehoe, and tell Kaleihokuu that two

chiefs desire to see his adopted son." The servant went with all speed

to Laupahoehoe, where he delivered his master's message. Kaleihokuu told,

him, "Return to your masters, tell them that they will be welcome, if

they will come to-morrow to see my foster-son." The old men, at this news,

hastened to depart. Arrived at the abode of Kaleihokuu, they found no one,

except a man asleep on the mat. They entered, nevertheless, and sat down,

leaning their backs against the walls of the pandanus house. "At last,"

said they, sighing, "our bones are going to revive, _akahi a ola na iwi_."

Then, addressing the slumbering man, "Are you, then, alone here?"--" Yes,"

replied the young man; "Kaleihokuu is in the fields."--"We are," added

they, "the two old men of Waipio, come expressly to see the priest's

foster-son."

The young man rises without saying a word, prepares an abundant repast--an

entire hog, fish, and awa. The two old men admired the activity and skill

of the youth, and said to themselves, "At all events, if the foster-son

of Kaleihokuu were as vigorous a stripling as this, we should renew our

life!" The young unknown served them food, and made them drunk with awa,

and, according to the usage of those times,[16] gave up to them the women

of Kaleihokuu, that his hospitality might be complete.

The next morning the old men saw Kaleihokuu, and said to him, "Here we

have come to become acquainted with your foster-son. May it please the

gods that he be like that fine young fellow who entertained us at your

house! Our bones would revive."--"Ah, indeed," replied Kaleihokuu; "he who

has so well received you is my _keiki hanai_. I left him at the house on

purpose to perform for you the duties of hospitality." The two old men,

rejoiced at what they learned, told the priest and his adopted son the ill

treatment they had received at the court of Hakau. No more was needed to

kindle a war at once.

At the head of a considerable troop of people attached to the service of

Kaleihokuu, Umi went by forced marches to Waipio, and the next day Hakau

had ceased to reign. He had been slain by the very hand of the vigorous

foster-son of the priest.

THE REIGN OF UMI.

Umi ruled in place of Hakau. His two aikane, Koi and Omakamau, had joined

him, and resided at his court. Piimaiwaa of Hilo was his most valiant

warrior. _Ia ia ka mama kakaua_--to him belonged the bâton of war, a

figurative expression denoting the general-in-chief. Pakaa was one of the

favorites of Umi, and Lono was his kahuna.

While Umi reigned over the eastern shores of the island, one of his

cousins, Keliiokaloa, ruled the western coast, and held his court at

Kailua. It was under the reign of this prince, about two centuries before

the voyage of Captain Cook, that a ship was wrecked near Keei, in the

district of Kona, not far from the place where the celebrated English

navigator met his death in 1779. It was about 1570[C] that men of the

white race first landed in the archipelago. One man and one woman escaped

from the wreck, and reached land near Kealakeakua. Coming to the shore,

these unfortunates prostrated themselves on the lava, with their faces to

the earth, whence comes the name Kulou, a _bowing down_, which the place

which witnessed this scene still bears. The shipwrecked persons soon

conformed to the customs of the natives, who pretend that there exists to

our day a family of chiefs descended from these two whites. The Princess

Lohea, daughter of Liliha,[16] still living, is considered of this origin.

Keliiokaloa, who reigned over the coast where this memorable event took

place, was a wicked prince, who delighted in wantonly felling cocoa-nut

trees and laying waste cultivated lands. His ravages induced Umi to

declare war against him.

He took the field at the head of his army, accompanied by his famous

warrior, Piimaiwaa; his friends, Koi and Omakamau; his favorite, Pakaa;

and Lono, his Kahuna. He turned the flanks of Mauna Kea, and advancing

between this mountain and Hualalai, in the direction of Mauna Loa, arrived

at the great central plateau of the island, intending to make a descent

upon Kailua. Keliiokaloa did not wait for him. Placing himself at the head

of his warriors, he marched to meet Umi. The two armies met on the high

plain bounded by the colossi of Hawaii, at the place which is called _Ahua

a Umi_.

Two men of the slave race, called Laepuni, famous warriors of Keliiokaloa,

fought with a superhuman courage, and Umi was about to fall under their

blows, when Piimaiwaa, coming to his rescue, caused the victory to incline

to his side. Although history is silent, it is probable that the king of

Kailua perished in the battle.

This victory completely rid Umi of his last rival; he reigned henceforth

as sole ruler of Hawaii; and to transmit to posterity the remembrance of

this remarkable battle, he caused to be erected on the battle-field, by

the people of the six provinces, Hilo, Hamakua, Kohala, Kona, Ka'u, and

Puna, a singular monument, composed of six polyhedral piles of ancient

lava collected in the vicinity. A seventh pyramid was raised by his nobles

and officers. In the centre of these enormous piles of stone he built

a temple, whose remains are still sufficiently perfect to enable one to

restore the entire plan. The whole of this vast monument is called, after

the name of its builder, the Heaps of Umi--_Ahua Umi_.