spirit moved him, and that was pretty often! He was often invited, by the Seniors, who were intent on baseball just then, to "shut up"!

"Ka Lani, you stop your noise."

One hymn he liked so much, it was called his own. "Now Ka Lani sing your hymn." The natives are very wide awake to any form of ridicule, and even where they can speak but little English, will detect at once, any banter or chaffing one may choose to offer. He would fix his eyes on the listeners, and burst out with, "Oft in danger, oft in woe"-watching closely to see if approval and delight was in their face, and if he detected anything like a laugh at his expense, he would rub his little bare feet on the floor, and in his cheeks one could see the rose, through all the brown!

The evening "preparation" was until half-past eight, the Juniors went to the dormitory earlier. The schoolbuilding is in a large paddock-about an eighth of a mile distant-and with very fine verandas.

This little fellow who was a great pet, would often coax: "Me go look stars-go look stars." look stars-go look stars." I regret to say that in the morning he would be just as eager to go look black pigs."

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He was not, altogether, a "good" boy, but had as much of mischief and fun in him, as the average white boy. Hearing a great" war of words " one day, in which his voice seemed too prominent, I went out as far as the Chapel, where I saw one of the big boys on top, painting. It was work-hour. This little mite had come along with his "pick-up" tin-a five-gallon

kerosene can, with a piece of rope strung across it for a handle. He had set it down, and stood there in his little bare feet with trousers rolled up above his knees, his shirt tucked inside, and his little old battered-up hat, on the back of his head, for it was very warm, looking up to see how the painting was going, for he had an interest in that Chapel! "Here, Chip," said the Giant, "don't be looking up here-just go on with your work!" And then, came in the shout from the Pygmy, to the very top of the Cross, "You just shut up your head-you ain't my boss-never was-I stan' 'ere long's I like!" "If you don't go to work pretty quick, Chippy, you'll see me down there."

"Well, you come down, then. I ain't 'fraid you, I guess, if you are big." Just then, he saw the Giant putting one foot on the ladder, when he grabbed up his tin, and graduated from there to the veranda, diving under the fence, and losing his hat!

When a new boy came to the Bishop's, he brought all his "boy's traps" with him, such as taro-patch fiddle, bats and balls, kites, etc. A big fellow of a native came up one night, and with him to the astonishment and delight of all, with the exception, I may say, of the head-master and a few others! the largest kind of an accordeon (misnomer).

Before "Chapel," in the morning, that music was to be heard, on the verandas of the dormitories-for a brief spell; at noon, it again struggled in the air; and it was heard in the recreation hours, and in the twilight!

The head-master, who has had twenty-five years' experience in teaching English boys, thought best not to notice it, at all, and let him play it out—and he knew he would; that it would in time die a natural death, the boys themselves would weary of it, and so "kill" it, as they express it, and there would be no nagging, and no hard feelings.

And so it was, it became silent-and was never heard again! A drum-Christmas present!—went down also to an early grave! But of baseball the boys never tire, and the ground used for that game is large, and the "teams" always going.

The Bishop is a tremendous worker, reading the service in the Chapel at 6:30 in the morning, and at midnight, with his lantern, going the rounds of the dormitories, to see if "all is well "-his last benediction before going to sleep himself. He has a great fund of dry humor, quiet and grave as he ever is.

I asked him, one day, why he did not write a book of his experience on the Islands-it would be a fortune. "A misfortune, you mean."

Speaking of an English bishop, with reference to laundry-work, I remarked, that I did not know a Bishop was obliged to think of such matters. Mrs. Willis remarked, "I suppose his wife must." But the Bishop retorted quickly, "No, not when he has a 'See' (sea) behind him."

On Sunday nights, at half-past eight, a light supper was always served by Mrs. Willis herself, in the daintily-appointed parlor, for the entire household; and it

would be impossible to find a more kindly and genial host than his Lordship, at such times.

And now I come to that in Hawaii's history, which provokes no love, namely: Centipedes and scorpions. In my wonder and in my why that they are what they are-and to what purpose, I can only say with Portia, God made them, and therefore let them pass for insects. God made the butterfly and the honey-bee; he made, too, let us not forget, these dreadful creatures. "And God saw everything that he had made, and, behold, it was very good."

They are plentiful on the islands, and while their sting is very painful it is not fatal.

Moral nor physical cowardice never seemed to me a virtue worthy of all commendation until I was an eyewitness to it in the centipede; and learned that at the least sound of the human foot it would run, and run like a dart (seeming to realize that it is one of a very bad crew, and will be killed if captured), its mail-like armor rattling along!

I could but laugh aloud with glee in thinking of my one more fortunate escape, and sing with joy, out of the abundance of my heart, "Shoo fly, don't bother me!" I killed, with pleasure, several scorpions (there should be a reward offered for so doing!) but I let my friend, the native boy, undertake the centipedes !

So far as good looks is concerned there is very little to be said in favor of either of these villains. But, at the same time, there is more moral beauty in the co

hated centipede-I mean to say I was not able to discern in him during my stay, a tithe of the despicable nature of the scorpion. It cannot be said that there is anything mean-looking about him, at any rate, for he is made out of whole cloth, and plenty of it.

I carefully examined one, caught alive and brought to me in a bottle. It was a fine specimen, eight inches long, and for a part of its length over an inch broad. A perfect coat of mail of ugly, dull brown, strongly made and riveted, joint over joint and plate overlapping plate, covered its body; two strong devil's (curved) horns on its head, with which to plunge its venomous fluid into human flesh if getting in its path, and twenty-one pair of wretched, web-like looking feet! Centipede-but not hundred-footed, after all. When I had looked at him and spoken with him to my heart's content, I most earnestly wished that I might never see his like again-ugh! On the contrary, the scorpion is a stingy-looking patched-up affair, of no definite color-soft-shelled body, long, jointed tailmalicious, cunning, cowardly (in the worst sense of that term) stealing stealthily down upon you-no noise, no warning, until you get the sting!—a sneaking fellow, and often bringing a mate along with him. I recollect well a boy, unconcernedly resting his hand on the window-sill, and one of these vile creatures slowly sliding down to thrust in the dart, when the class, as one boy, shouted, "Scorpion! scorpion !" The natives, even, hate them, and it's a "bad lot," indeed, when they will hate! And the very names!