[Illustration Note: WILLIAM HENRY THOMAS

Of all the members of the now famous cruise of the Kawa into hitherto
uncharted waters it is doubtful if any one entered so fully into the
spirit of adventure as the silent fore-mast hand whose portrait faces
this text. It was he who first adopted native costume. The day after
landing in the Filberts he was photographed as we see him wearing a
native wreath of nabiscus blooms and having discarded shoes. Every day
he discarded some article of raiment. It was he who first took unto
himself an island mate. It was he who ultimately abandoned all hope
of ever seeing his home and country again, electing rather to remain
among his new-found people with his new-found love and his new-found
name, Fatakahala (Flower of Darkness). Truly, strange flowers of fancy
blossom in the depths of the New England character. It is reported
that he has lately been elected King of the Filberts.]

We gave Whinney a long cheer with nine Yales at the close to cover the
laughter of the women, for the discourse was really superb. In English
its melodic charm is lost, but you must admit that for an indescribable
thing it is a very fine description.

After several days of idyllic life in our mountain paradise we felt
the returning urge of our various ambitions.

"Kippy, my dear," I said, "I think we ought to be going."

Sweet soul that she was! that they all were, these beautiful women of
ours! Anything we proposed was agreeable to them. As we trooped down
the mountain singing, our merry chorus shook the forest glades and
literally brought down the cocoanuts.