Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1886-09-04
LETTER FROM HAWAII.
A SUNDAY UPON THE PACIFIC
ISLANDS.
Scenery and Verdure "Where Every
Prospect Plcases, and Only
Man is Vile"
IREooRD-USIoN Correspondence


Sundy, with its quiet, its long sunny
hours and tinkling bells, always in Chris
tian lands lays some lingering touch OF
wondrous balm across the weary feet and
heart. Here, at sunny Laie, the sunshine
seems brighter, the wind seems TO hush
in part its boisterous voice, the birds
call 10 each other in softer, sweeter tones,
and every line of natures face looks
smoother, brighter and better while Sun
day reigns.
This morning at about halfpast eight
o'clock the bell hanging high up in
the sober-painted wooden church rings
out It's call for Sunday-school. 1t
sounds away off-to the very sea itself.
Young and old, all ages, come at its sum
mons, and tor an hour = the old story" is
rehearsed in childish ears.
The children here are very numerous
that is, for native families. The King and
many foreigners have remarked, on visit
children compared with other islands. On
Sunday, their forms arrayed liz white or
| light dresses, absurd attempts to be in
fashion. the girls with dresses above
| their dark knees, and rufiled painfully, the
unaccustomed shoes and stockings on, they
| flock from all four quarters to the church.
AT half-past the bell again peals its
summons, and presently nearly the whole
of the active population of Laie may be
seen vending their way to the church on
the hill. The building is inclosed in
| neat white picket tence. Inside the fence
tiny beds of geranium and rose bushes
~ rl,,f ~ap J.,
green BACKGROUND of the ever present grass.
There are faces in the church whose fea-
lures will startle you with their resem-
blapces to friends far away. There are
long. sharp featured faces; round, beaming
ewes the forms being equally contrasted-
tall and slender, or tail and stout, short
and thin, or short and fat. But every
where there are dark shining eyes, and the
general characteristics which mark this
Hawaiian race.
There is Moke Moses, who looks every
inch what he is, a shrewd native lawyer;
Lua, whose sneering features carry the
same cynical smile which adorns his pessl-
mist white brothers countenance; and big,
| fat Kleohano. whose shining, fat face CLOVIS
with good nature; and handsome Peter
(Kealakaihonua), whose every feature and
movement bespeakS the refined gentleman.
And the women Oh, they are nearly all
characters. There is Kapo, whose gray
hair and lined features add dignity to
her intelligent countenance and round,
pretty Mrs. Moke; while Nalea's round,
homely face is, like her husband Keaoha's,
brim full of stanch goodness. Then here
is the usual performance Out OF her seat
marches stately, dignified woman who,
with solemn countenance, comes up the
aisle and demands OF the white woman the
baby to carry to her seat.
The whole race are naturally full of
graceful dignity of demeanor, rather saw
age in its glum pomposity, but pleasing
withal. The girls-ah, well, bright eyes,
round forms, flowing black hair, and AMI
nation in every line of their full, pretty
faces, they are nearly all dusky Hebes.
But there, don't ask me to-day to go be
meath the smiling exteriors of all these
careless ill-trained lustful people and show
YOU what a mass of reckless sin lies be-
meath.
Again turning to the island scenery. Turn
your eyes which way you will it is beautl-
| full. On the south wave and glisten the green
corn-felds Beyond, and shielding them
partially from the fierce trade winds, rises
black coral hill, whose rugged front is
| hung with dropping vines; their graceful
| fingers twiuing with loving abandon round
every rock and filling, every crevlce and
seam. In the distance a high mountain
| iuts out into the sea, and with the line of
clouds and sea close interviewer, form
| lovely background to the tropic scene. But
in the gray horizon, one solitary, ribbed,
round mound-a dead volcano-stands out
far at sea, washed by the blue waters of the
Pacific, into whose bosom. III ages past, the
mighty dead once poured her tears of
molten lava. From the north window,
your eye travels down Ger the grassy hill
and across the lCw-lying meafs, away to
| the white fringed waves and changing sea
| with its fretted edge Of shells and seaweed.
Here and there, ont in the sea, are rocks,
ana one tiny island, over which the waves
pile in masses, and sometimes rear them
selves 50 high that the spray falls down III
| clouds of teecy walls.
But it is Sunday, and the drowsy voice OF
| the fields and waves all WOO from weary
brain and tired heart all thoughts but those
| of peace-sweet, all-pervadins peace
SUsA YOUNG GATES.