Then a whaleboat came off, rowed by eight young men in
white linen suits and white straw hats, with wreaths of carmine-
coloured flowers round both hats and throats. They were singing a
glee in honour of Mr. Ragsdale, whom they sprang on deck to welcome.
Our crowd of native fellow-passengers, by some inscrutable process,
had re-arrayed themselves and blossomed into brilliancy. Hordes of
Hilo natives swarmed on deck, and it became a Babel of alohas,
kisses, hand-shakings, and reiterated welcomes. The glee singers
threw their beautiful garlands of roses and ohias over the foreign
passengers, and music, flowers, good-will and kindliness made us
welcome to these enchanted shores. We landed in a whaleboat, and
were hoisted up a rude pier which was crowded, for what the arrival
of the Australian mail-steamer is to Honolulu, the coming of the
Kilauea is to Hilo. I had not time to feel myself a stranger, there
were so many introductions, and so much friendliness. Mr. Coan and
Mr. Lyman, two of the most venerable of the few surviving
missionaries, were on the landing, and I was introduced to them and
many others. There is no hotel in Hilo. The residents receive
strangers, and Miss Karpe and I were soon installed in a large buff
frame-house, with two deep verandahs, the residence of Mr.
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