Paradise not without a Satanic intruder in the shape of that person from
Illinois. Nothing escaped his scorn. One day we saw from Diamond Head
three water-spouts careering to the south, a splendid procession of the
powers of the air. He straightway said to Kalakua, that "a Michigan
cyclone had more git-up-and-git about it than them three black cats with
their tails in the water." He spent hours in thinking out rudely caustic
things to repeat about this little kingdom. He said that the Government
was a Corliss-engine running a sewing machine. He used to ask the
Commander of the Forces when the Household Cavalry were going into summer
camp--they were twelve. The only thing that appeared to impress him
seriously was Molokai, the desolate island where the lepers made their
cheerless prison-home. But the reason for his gravity appeared when he
said to Blithelygo and myself: "There'd be a fortune in that menagerie if
it was anchored in Lake Michigan." On that occasion he was answered in
strong terms. It was the only time I ever heard Blithelygo use
profanity. But the American merely dusted his patent leather shoes with
a gay silk kerchief, adjusted his clothes on his five-foot frame as he
stood up; and said: "Say you ought to hear my partner in Chicago when he
lets out. He's an artist!"

This Man from the West was evidently foreordained to play a part in the
destinies of Blithelygo and myself, for during two years of travel he
continuously crossed our path. His only becoming quality was his ample
extravagance. Perhaps it was the bountiful impetus he gave to the
commerce of Honolulu, and the fact that he talked of buying up a portion
of one of the Islands for sugar-planting, that induced the King to be
gracious to him. However that might be, when Blithelygo and I joined his
Majesty at Hilo to visit the extinct volcano of Kilauea, there was the
American coolly puffing his cigar and quizzically feeling the limbs and
prodding the ribs of the one individual soldier who composed the King's