Here the operations of nature are rapid and decisive.
A rainfall of eleven feet in a year and a hothouse temperature force
every plant into ceaseless activity, and make short work of decay.
Leafage, blossom, fruitage, are simultaneous and perennial. The
river, about as broad as the Cam at Cambridge, leaped along, clear
like amber, pausing to rest awhile in deep bright pools, where fish
were sporting above the golden sand, a laughing, sparkling, rushing,
terrorless stream, "without mysteries or agonies," broken by rocks,
green with mosses and fragile ferns, and in whose unchilled waters,
not more than three feet deep, wading was both safe and pleasant.
It was not possible to creep along its margin, the forest was so
dense and tangled, so we waded the whole way, and wherever the water
ran fiercely my unshod guide helped me. One varied, glorious maze
of vegetation came down to it, and every green thing leant lovingly
towards it, or stooped to touch it, and over its whole magic length
was arched and interlaced the magnificent large-leaved ohia, whose
millions of spikes of rose-crimson blossoms lit up the whole arcade,
and the light of the afternoon sun slanted and trickled through
them, dancing in the mirthful water, turning its far-down sands to
gold, and brightening the many-shaded greens of candlenut and
breadfruit.
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