The quiet of the nine hours' trip in the Kilauea restored my
equanimity, and prepared me to enjoy the delicious evening which
followed. The silver waters of Kawaihae Bay reflected the full
moon, the three great mountains of Hawaii were cloudless as I had
not before seen them, all the asperity of the leeward shore was
softened into beauty, and the long shadows of bending palms were as
still and perfect as the palms themselves. But there was a new
sight above the silver water, for the huge dome of Mauna Loa, forty
miles away, was burning red and fitfully. A horse and servant
awaited me, and we were soon clattering over the hard sand by the
shining sea, and up the ascent which leads to the windy table-lands
of Waimea. The air was like new life. At a height of 500 feet we
met the first whiff of the trades, the atmosphere grew cooler and
cooler, the night-wind fresher, the moonlight whiter; wider the
sweeping uplands, redder the light of the burning mountain, till I
wrapped my plaid about me, but still was chilled to the bone, and
when the four hours' ride was over, soon after midnight, my limbs
were stiff with tropical cold. And this, within 20 degrees of the
equator, and only 2,500 feet above the fiery sea-shore, with its
temperature of 80 degrees, where Sydney Smith would certainly have
desired to "take off his flesh, and sit in his bones!"
I delight in Hawaii more than ever, with its unconventional life,
great upland sweeps, unexplored forests, riotous breezes, and
general atmosphere of freedom, airiness, and expansion.
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