such an added list to port that her starboard wheel looks nearly out
of the water.
I.L.B.



LETTER II.

HAWAIIAN HOTEL, HONOLULU, Jan. 26th.

Yesterday morning at 6.30 I was aroused by the news that "The
Islands" were in sight. Oahu in the distance, a group of grey,
barren peaks rising verdureless out of the lonely sea, was not an
exception to the rule that the first sight of land is a
disappointment. Owing to the clear atmosphere, we seemed only five
miles off, but in reality we were twenty, and the land improved as
we neared it. It was the fiercest day we had had, the deck was
almost too hot to stand upon, the sea and sky were both
magnificently blue, and the unveiled sun turned every minute ripple
into a diamond flash. As we approached, the island changed its
character. There were lofty peaks, truly--grey and red, sun-
scorched and wind-bleached, glowing here and there with traces of
their fiery origin; but they were cleft by deep chasms and ravines
of cool shadow and entrancing green, and falling water streaked
their sides--a most welcome vision after eleven months of the desert
sea and the dusty browns of Australia and New Zealand. Nearer yet,
and the coast line came into sight, fringed by the feathery cocoanut
tree of the tropics, and marked by a long line of surf. The grand
promontory of Diamond Head, its fiery sides now softened by a haze
of green, terminated the wavy line of palms; then the Punchbowl, a