They brought me a kalo leaf containing a number of
living freshwater shrimps, and were quite surprised when I did not
eat them.
WAIPIO, March 5th.
It seems fully a week since I left Waimea yesterday morning, so many
new experiences have been crowded into the time. I will try to
sketch my expedition while my old friend Halemanu is preparing
dinner. The morning opened gloriously. The broad Waimea plains
were flooded with red and gold, and the snowy crest of Mauna Kea was
cloudless. We breakfasted by lamp light (the days of course are
short in this latitude), and were away before six. My host kindly
provided me with a very fine horse and some provisions in a leather
wallet, and with another white man and a native accompanied me as
far as this valley, where they had some business. The morning
deepened into gorgeousness. A blue mist hung in heavy folds round
the violet bases of the mountains, which rose white and sharp into
the rose-flushed sky; the dew lay blue and sparkling on the short
crisp grass; the air was absolutely pure, and with a suspicion of
frost in it. It was all very fair, and the horses enjoyed the
morning freshness, and danced and champed their bits as though they
disliked being reined in.
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