remotest warrior on the hills, though none could understand the words, so strange they were. Then he turned and faced Kuala, who stood twenty paces distant. All was quiet as is the air before a coming storm. Kuala slowly raised his spear above his head and bending quickly forward sent it with such force that none could see it in the air, but the great chief was quicker than the spear and it went past him deep into the sand. His spear flew so close to Kuala that he felt the wind of its speed upon his cheek. The second time they raised their arms together and send the weapons whirling through the air. The warrior's spear struck some feathers from the great chief's head, whose weapon went straight to Kuala's heart, but before it touched his body Kuala caught it with his hands and turned its course aside, but staggered backwards with the force. Then the warriors cried in lamentation on the hills, but when they saw he was unhurt a shout arose louder than the first. The last spear Kuala poised above his head was of polished koa tipped with ivory, whose point had been dipped in Po's dark waters, carrying death upon its slightest touch. But it never reached the red chief's for the two spears met in the air with a great clash and fell broken on the sand. Then the warriors rushed towards each other and met midway on the sands, their javelins clashing as they met. Suddenly the light had faded while gray clouds covered the crater as with a roof, and the white rain began to fall thick and fast, lying like white stars on cloaks of the alii and of king. Kuala and the great chief could be dimly seen as they whirled around each other in the strife faster than sea birds on the wing. Now rushing together, now stepping quick aside, but Kuala's breathing could be heard by the king and his alii standing near; while the great chief moved quicker than the red lightning from the clouds, without a sound save when his javelin struck the warriors. But moving backward from Kuala's rush his heel struck upon a stone and he swayed slightly. Then the warrior's javelin tore his shoulder till the red blood came. With a cry that made the king and all his followers shiver as with cold, he sprang past Kuala's javelin and fastened his teeth within the flesh and his face was like a demon as he tore the warrior's throat, and Kuala fell slowly back upon the sand, writhing in quick death. Then the Hulumanu, standing by the King, threw his spear and pierced the great chief who fell face downward on the sand. From the hills the warriors came with a mighty rush as slides the land from the steep mountain sides, while the red men awaited their coming with faces lean and fierce. They stood as does a rock within the sea when the great waves surge upon it fall back in beaten foam until one mightier than the rest o'erwhelms it. So stood, so fell the red men on that day. Hua marked not the raging of the strife but through the tumult pushed his way toward where the white queen stood alone. She fled with exceeding swiftness, moving like a shadow through the falling mist. Hua, in furious anger, raised his spear and sent it straight towards her as she fled. Then the cloud grew thicker and closed around them. Instantly a great cry was heard and the King's people found him bleeding on the sand with his spear point centering in his breast. Whither the white queen went none ever knew. But sometimes the hunter, following his lonely trail through the great mountain, sees a woman's form wrapped in moving mist and with dark hair floating wildly around the pallor of her face."

"That's all," said the guide.

"That's quite a little lie, William," said the humorist.

"I don't know, the old lady says it is just so."

As we started on our homeward trail the clouds had rolled through the two gaps and an opaque mist lay around us. William headed the procession and we had gone about a quarter of a mile and were near the great cone when William stopped suddenly and grasped the humorist by the arm, almost white with terror.

"Look!" he said, pointing towards where the fog had lifted somewhat, and a current of air was whirling the mist, and, in the mist a woman's form and face could be clearly seen. I looked inquiringly at the humorist.

"Can such things be," he said, "and overcome us like a summer cloud, without our special wonders?"

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio," I suggested.

Then we went on in silence through the falling mist, but the humorist took the lead.

GEO. H. DE LA VERGNE.

r. Dole and I were standing in front of one of the caves which are found near the edges of the bay of Hanauma which is situated this side of Koko Head. We were there for several days of recreation. Mr. Dole was glad to get away from the Executive building, where his Ministers had caged various bees in their bonnets. These bees often wrangled with the bees in his own bonnet, and by temporarily separating them, the different bees ameliorated their buzzing, and a general rest prevailed. Mr. Dole said he preferred to take recreation with one who had outgrown the bee-hive age and the age of other annoying human devices.

"Do you see that flat stone?" I asked, pointing to one that lay under some lantana bushes, and was partially concealed by the sand and just beyond the reach of the surf.

"I see it," said Mr. Dole. "Do you think that some person with a bee in his bonnet has been around? Has the stone a story?"

"Well," I said, "that stone belonged to the foundation of a house which Peleg Chapman built away back in the 'thirties.'"

"Tell me the story," said Mr. Dole and he sat down on the grass, as if it were his Cabinet, and stretched his legs out towards the much sounding sea.

I then told him the story as I had obtained it from the most authentic sources, included in which were some scraps in Peleg Chapman's handwriting.

Peleg's father, Silas Chapman, was a poor but honest farmer who lived in Stockbridge, Massachusetts, near the State line. He had been eminently successful in achieving poverty, which he shared generously with his wife and sons. Though mentally dull in most matters, he possessed a rare gift for training animals of all kinds. He was a master of those inarticulate sounds, and musical notes which curiously convey ideas to animals. He talked with his dogs and cats, and made them useful. His trained squirrels brought him abundance of nuts, and his trained robins brought him cherries without injuring them. His cows, pigs, and chickens did curious tricks, and when gathered together in the barnyard, under his voice and eye, were more orderly than the General Assembly of the State. These useful animals did much to relieve the family poverty. The collie dogs stole watermelons and rolled them home, and the tame crows supplied the cattle with ripe corn from the neighbors' fields.

Peleg inherited from his father this singular gift of training animals, and he had listened to his luminous expositions of the subject.

"Peleg," he said, "all an'mals think. Ef you only larn how they think, you ken do anything with 'em. Each on 'em has a little different way of working his gumption, but you kinder sit along side 'on 'em, get to communin' with 'em in a slow fashion, and