I saw great fat men with their hair streaked
with grey, balancing themselves on their narrow surf-boards, and
riding the surges shorewards with as much enjoyment as if they were
in their first youth. I enjoyed the afternoon thoroughly.
Is it "always afternoon" here, I wonder? The sea was so blue, the
sunlight so soft, the air so sweet. There was no toil, clang, or
hurry. People were all holidaymaking (if that can be where there is
no work), and enjoying themselves, the surf-bathers in the sea, and
hundreds of gaily-dressed men and women galloping on the beach. It
was so serene and tropical. I sympathize with those who eat the
lotus, and remain for ever on such enchanted shores.
I am gaining health daily, and almost live in the open air. I have
hired the native policeman's horse and saddle, and with a Macgregor
flannel riding costume, which my kind friends have made for me, and
a pair of jingling Mexican spurs am quite Hawaiianised. I ride
alone once or twice a day exploring the neighbourhood, finding some
new fern or flower daily, and abandon myself wholly to the
fascination of this new existence.
I.L.B.
LETTER VIII.
ONOMEA, HAWAII.
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