The Hawaiian Archipelago - Six Months Among The Palm Groves, Coral Reefs, And Volcanoes Of The Sandwich Islands By Isabella L. Bird
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We ate it on the floor of the wigwam, with an old
tin, with some fat in it, for a lamp, and a bit of rope for a wick,
which kept tumbling into the fat and leaving us in darkness.
The next day I came up here alone, driving a pack-horse, and with a
hind-quarter of sheep tied to my saddle. It is really difficult to
find the way over this desert, though I have been several times
across. When a breeze ripples the sand between the lava hummocks,
the footprints are obliterated, and there are few landmarks except
the "ox bone" and the "small ohia." It is a strange life up here on
the mountain side, but I like it, and never yearn after
civilization. The one drawback is my ignorance of the language,
which not only places me sometimes in grotesque difficulties, but
deprives me of much interest. I don't know what day it is, or how
long I have been here, and quite understand how possible it would be
to fall into an indolent and aimless life, in which time is of no
account.
THE RECTORY, KONA. August 1st.
I left Hualalai yesterday morning, and dined with my kind host and
hostess in the wigwam. It was the last taste of the wild Hawaiian
life I have learned to love so well, the last meal on a mat, the
last exercise of skill in eating "two-fingered" poi.
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