white robes of flower-crowned girls gleamed among the trees, as
groups of natives went by speaking a language which sounded more
like the rippling of water than human speech. Soft music came from
the ironclads in the harbour, and from the royal band at the king's
palace, and a rich fragrance of dewy blossoms filled the delicious
air. These are indeed the "isles of Eden," the "sun lands," musical
with beauty. They seem to welcome us to their enchanted shores.
Everything is new but nothing strange; for as I enjoyed the purple
night, I remembered that I had seen such islands in dreams in the
cold gray North. "How sweet," I thought it would be, thus to hear
far off, the low sweet murmur of the "sparkling brine," to rest, and

"Ever to seem
Falling asleep in a half-dream."

A half-dream only, for one would not wish to be quite asleep and
lose the consciousness of this delicious outer world. So I thought
one moment. The next I heard a droning, humming sound, which
certainly was not the surf upon the reef. It came nearer--there
could be no mistake. I felt a stab, and found myself the centre of
a swarm of droning, stabbing, malignant mosquitoes. No, even this
is not paradise! I am ashamed to say that on my first night in
Honolulu I sought an early refuge from this intolerable infliction,
in profound and prosaic sleep behind mosquito curtains.
I.L.B.



LETTER III.