Thompson and the two elder
boys. We rode in the mauka direction, outside cane ready for
cutting, with silvery tassels gleaming in the sun, till we reached
the verge of the forest, where an old trail was nearly obliterated
by a trailing matted grass four feet high, and thousands of woody
ferns, which conceal streams, holes, and pitfalls. When further
riding was impossible, we tethered our horses and proceeded on foot.
We were then 1,500 feet above the sea by the aneroid barometer, and
the increased coolness was perceptible. The mercury is about four
degrees lower for each 1,000 feet of ascent--rather more than this
indeed on the windward side of the islands. The forest would be
quite impenetrable were it not for the remains of wood-hauling
trails, which, though grown up to the height of my shoulders, are
still passable.
Underneath the green maze, invisible streams, deep down, made sweet
music, sweeter even than the gentle murmur of the cool breeze among
the trees. The forest on the volcano track, which I thought so
tropical and wonderful a short time ago, is nothing for beauty to
compare with this "garden of God." I wish I could describe it, but
cannot; and as you know only our pale, small-leaved trees, with
their uniform green, I cannot say that it is like this or that.
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