The daily morning journal and courier., 1898-08-05
A NATURAL1zED VOLCANO.

by the Native Hawaiians-Scenes by the Way, and the Sudden Revelation
 of the Spectacle of the Volcano
 So far 1t had been necessary to take the volcano for granted. The ticket for the trip called for @ visit to Kilauea, and the man in Honolulu who sold 1t had spoken of the volcano as an ex- isting geographical and geological fact. Even the signboard on the hotel read "Volcano House." so there must be such thing in the neighborhood Yet there was but the faintest vistage of the boiling lakes of flame and the crash of nature in hottest convulsions which were written about, page after page, by people who had seen Kilauea and given it puff in Che visitors book at which the traveller had glanced before going to bed the night before.
 All the day before had been given to thirty odd miles of staging steadily up the mountain. There had been sight of dense jungle where guavas grew along the roadside where every great trunk seemed to serve as a botanical hotel for lodging population of ferns or orchids, where the ferns themselves were trees ten and twenty feet high. Just out of Hilo the road began in the cane fields, where every breath of the trade wind showers a sthing haze of golden brown pollen, better to look at than to breathe Then it led into the clammy dampness of the jungle, spiced with the orodrs of the wild ginger and score of blooms known hitherto only by learned names in hothouse setting. How the senses reel where choice eXot- ics are the Wayside weeds Here was a group of cabins with queer red daubs trailing snakewise above the door and probably conveying interesting Asiatic information, homes of the small Japs whom one passes swaggering along the way, and maling\ clear that the future of Hawaii if not American would be surely Japanese, More modestly set in hooks in the forest, richer in local col or here and there was a grass house of the native Hawaiian Then cannes the lands where fortunes are looked for in the cultivation of coffee. The planters come to meet the volcano stage for it carries their mail. At every stop, be- fore each of these trim little orchards of fifty or hundred acres the planter bids you Hook at those cherries; did you ever see anything tiner?" and you learn that there is a stage of the coffee when it is a cherry. Or from his pock- ct he brings out a handful of smoothing that has the coffee shape but the sil- very drab of a gentle Quakeress, and as he talks about the bean in the parchment skin you come to know that coffee has it's own history before it comes even, to the roasted, and the his- tory begins very prettily indeed on both sides Of the road with the cream and red of the cherries and the two shades of green on the leaves. And all these young planters speak so confidently of the estates they are building up in the finest and most wholesome climate in the world that you try to forget the sad history of those other young plant CTS who were just as confident in Cey- Ion until they met their troubles.
 Beyond the coffee the road plunges again into the jungle, but you begin to notice that you can see further along the vistas, and that the ferns are get ting less treelike and tn brake is be- coming more bushy. Soon you pass out of the forest and find yourself on bar rens of brake and gaunt streaks of bare
 
 at it and says Lava" and you begin to wonder than you can discern noth- ing of the volcano which you have trav- elled thousands of miles to see. And that lava, too-it looks like any other wayside rock; surely nobody but min eralogist could see any difference. Now that you are high up on the fern bar rens you can see the eternal snows of Mauna Kea, which looks so out of place within the torrid zone; you can see the crest of Mauna Loa, and possi- bly, you struggle to be glib about the pronunciation of the summit crater of Mokuaweoweo, which the guide book spells for you and leaves you without assistance in getting finished when once you have started to speak about It.. And when the sun goes down behind the mountain the eye can see nothing ahead but a smooth and barren slope with nothing to indicate that you are within five miles of "the giant hidden forces of nature;" odd, isn't how the old phrases of the school-book cling in the memory? Ask the driver where is Kilauea and he answers why, that's where Pm a taking yer" and the dis appointment continues. Now you feel at intervals upon your cheeks breath of warm and clammy vapor with the reek of birthstone, and there is some comfort in knowing that the stories of volcanoes hereabouts have at least that much of foundation. In the dark of the evening the stage draws up at the Volcano House and even before the question is put Peter Lee answers it by saying:
 You can't see the volcano at night, 'cause there's a wapor there every night"
 It is rather unsatisfactory to know that great volcano Is within thirty yards and yet invisible. The trouble is that everybody has hammered into his mind in early school days an ideal volcano, a smooth and pointed cone, a shaft of smoke, ad monstrous cloud filling half the sky; Vesuvius in fact. Now Kilauea does not rear it's head an inch above the surface; it is a place where for many square miles the bot tom has dropped out of things and has sunk 300 feet. No wonder that it is vain to look for 1t on the road. But both our newly naturalized volcanoes on Mauna Loa, Kilauea on the slope and Mokauweoweo on the summit, are