No living man can adequately describe the beauties of these islands. I just wandered around in a daze until I found myself on top of one of their mountains, and when I took it all in I felt as if I'd burst if I didn't say something, and I began apostrophizing Hawaii in a rapturous rhapsody.

I felt a good deal better after that, but as I was pressed for time I had to leave the islands and hike along; or I thought I had to. I did, at least.

But that rhapsody stands. The islands are still here, and as lovely as ever.

[Ill.u.s.tration: I snitched it from a folder put out by the Hawaiian Promotion Society]

What I can't understand is, that there are only 191,000 inhabitants on these islands, with room for several times that many; and something over a billion in the rest of the world. I don't know why I'm not living here myself, and for the life of me I don't know why I leave them--my ultimate aim has been to get to Heaven.

I can only account for it on one theory: I own a house and lot and some land in Central New York, and I'm so busy shoveling snow outdoors and coal indoors from some time in November to some time in April, and during May and June getting some stuff started, hoping it won't get nipped by the late frosts, and working it along before September frost gets it--in the meantime saving it from more bugs than a fellow, if he saves his crop, can take time to learn the names of--what with hustling that stuff through between frosts and saving it from pests, and planning the while to be in shape to get some coal to keep from freezing to death the coming winter--a fellow tied up like that can't come to Hawaii to live. I suppose that billion or so who are not living in the Hawaiian Islands are all fixed in some such a way.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A fellow tied up that way can't come to the Hawaiian Islands to live]

But I feel a little sore at that Hawaiian booster. He didn't tell about the fish they have here. There is an aquarium in Naples, Italy, said to be the finest in the world. I've been through that Naples aquarium several times, and it is a drab affair compared with the aquarium here at Honolulu. In the Honolulu aquarium may be seen fish of odd shapes and so brilliantly and beautifully colored that no artist could show these colors with paint and brush. There is the Humuhumu for instance. A fish six or seven inches long. It has bright green fins, and a stripe of jet black starting in a narrow band at the top of its back, broadening out diagonally around its body. On its side, set in the band of black, is a bright red spot. Rearwards of the black band its body is a bright red, and forward of the band the body is bright red shading off to white. Its tail is striped, red, yellow and black. Somewhat ba.s.s-shaped, its eyes are not in its head, but set on top of its back.

A man not knowing such a fish existed, if he were fishing in one of our ponds in New York State, if he should pull up a Humuhumu, he would stop fishing. He certainly would. And he wouldn't stop to land it, either. Just one look at that fish and he'd yell and drop fish, line and pole right back in the pond, and hunt up the chairman of the temperance movement in his town and sign the pledge.

Then there is the Lae-Nihi. A fish about eight inches long, all blue.

You can't know how bright and beautiful blue can be until you see a Lae-Nihi swimming in the water. Dozens of other odd-shaped fish, wonderfully marked in brilliant variegated patterns, are in the aquarium.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Just one look at that fish and he'd yell and drop fish, line and pole right back in the pond]

The government at Washington has made colored plates showing the shapes, markings, and giving the names of these fish, and attempting to show the colorings. Anyone looking at the colored prints and not knowing of these wonderful fish would say, "Preposterous! No such colored fish exist!" But the cold fact is, those colored prints but faintly portray the brilliant colors of the fish as they are seen in life.

With all this, you'd think they ought not to be anything but happy in Hawaii. You wouldn't expect to find kickers on the islands.

But the truth is, they are in a blue funk. They think that the islands are going to the bow-wows financially, because of the tariff legislation on sugar. I tell them to brace up and advertise the islands as more than the biggest show on earth; and, in place of begging for settlers, to pa.s.s out the word that the truly good may come, for a satisfactory consideration; and that the chances are they will have standing room only, and won't know what to do with their money.

[Ill.u.s.tration: You wouldn't expect to find any kickers in the islands]

V

THE UMPIRE WHO GOT A JOB

More and more I am convinced of the cleverness of the j.a.panese after a voyage across the Pacific in one of their magnificent ocean liners--a 22,000-ton ship, built at their yards at Nagasaki, j.a.pan--built, owned, and operated by the j.a.panese. The officers are Americans, with the exception of the chief engineer, who is j.a.panese. The crew is j.a.panese. Dining room waiters, Chinese and j.a.panese; and room boys are j.a.panese.

The cuisine more thoroughly conforms to American tastes than that found on any other ocean liners I am acquainted with, and nothing left to be desired in quality, variety, and way of serving. All the appointments of the ship for luxurious and comfortable travel are as nearly perfect as anything can be, with absolute cleanliness emphasized at every point--a trip through the culinary department prior to sitting down to a meal adding zest to one's appet.i.te--and that's some test. The management does everything possible for the pa.s.senger's enjoyment. Nearly every evening a moving picture entertainment is given on one of the s.p.a.cious decks. The ship carries films to the Orient as an item of freight, and has the use of them en route.

A seventeen days' voyage from San Francisco to Yokohama is not long enough to exhaust the supply if an hour's exhibition were to be given every evening. The event of the voyage is the theatricals given by the ship's crew, the common sailors, who do the work of running the ship.

I was not surprised to see j.a.panese sailors in an exhibition of ship games for the pa.s.sengers' entertainment one forenoon, carrying them off creditably--games indulged in by sailors the world around: the tug-of-war, chair race, potato race, c.o.c.k-fighting, etc.; but to see them put on an elaborate theatrical for an evening's entertainment filled me with wonder and admiration.

The first act on the program was a "Union Dance." In this all leading nations were represented. And next was "The Lion Dance." They say the j.a.panese are imitative. I would like to know which nation they imitated in producing that beast! It was an animal about fifteen feet long. It had a bushy tail that stood in the air three feet and waved continuously. Along its back was a series of short, stubby wings; and its head! Fearfully and wonderfully made was that head, which was mounted on a serpentine neck. The genius who created that head must have searched the earth, sea, and air for inspiration in his work.

And it danced!

Oh, that beast danced!

The power that moved the thing was two sailors inside, but how under the heavens they kept that tail waving, those wings working, and the eyes, ears, and tremendous jaws of that combination of earth, air, and sea monster all going at one and the same time, the while it danced, and reared, and crawled, and writhed, and gamboled, and all but flew--I would like to know how they did it. If anyone will tell me which nation they imitated to put that number on, I'll make a trip to that country--I want to see those folks. I've seen something on this order, large animals, elephants, bears, cows, etc., impersonated with man power inside, in New York, London, and Paris. They were good, too.

A lot of fun. Amuse the children. But here was something good enough to--to--well, I won't say to scare a locomotive off the track, but I'll bet it would make it shy.

[Ill.u.s.tration: But I'll bet it would make it shy]

[Ill.u.s.tration: I won't say it would scare a locomotive off the track]

The next number was "Wrestling and Fencing." A half dozen pairs of contestants. j.a.panese wrestling is always good and needs no comment, but the actor who announced the bouts, and the umpire who started them and announced decisions, would have made a whole evening's entertainment in themselves. Adverse comments on some of that umpire's decisions, by certain j.a.panese pa.s.sengers, brought him to the front of the stage with a little preachment. It all being in j.a.panese, of course I couldn't understand what he said, but there seemed to be fire and tow and ginger in that umpire's words; indeed, everything that he did savored of fire and tow and ginger.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The artist hasn't quite the right idea of that beast, so I'll draw a picture of it myself, and then you can see just how it looked, only it was fiercer, you understand.

--_The Author._]

I asked a j.a.panese pa.s.senger who sat next to me and who was not one of the dissenters: "What did the umpire say?" Turned into English the umpire said: "Go chase yourselves, you lobsters who are finding fault with my decisions. I'm umpiring these bouts, and my decisions go, see?" And they saw. Believe me, that umpire could make anyone see.

The commander of the ship told me that that umpire finally made _him_ "see."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Believe me, that umpire could make anyone see]

He (the umpire) is 62 years old. He asked the commander for a job, and failing to get it, he rode as a stowaway on the ship across the Pacific. He made the trip three times in that way, until finally he wore the commander out, and got his job. He is a good sailor, a star actor, and somewhat of a privileged character. I could see from the way the commander told me the story of how he got his job that he considered the umpire a good sort.

But the climax of surprises--of common sailors holding for over two hours a most critical audience, and delighting them to the last drop of the curtain--was "_Cushingura_," one of j.a.pan's cla.s.sical dramas.

It took a dozen or so actors to produce it. The crew, from money raised by delighted auditors, had provided splendid and appropriate costumes to dress the parts.

That play was presented magnificently.

It smacked nowhere of amateur theatricals. It moved off from the opening to the closing act without a hitch. So vivid and admirable was the acting, although spoken in j.a.panese, even those of us who could not understand the words were charmed, delighted.

Last night a royal shogun, dressed in regal robes, treading the boards with tremendously dramatic effect; today, washing down the decks or polishing up the bra.s.s tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs of the ship, that j.a.panese sailor man is an object for contemplation.

But again: "Land ho." j.a.pan is sighted, and all interest centers at the ship's rail as we steam towards Yokohama.

VI

THE j.a.pS' FIVE-STORY SKYSc.r.a.pER AND A BAs.e.m.e.nT

I believe I ended my last letter by ho-ing the land, and hanging a shipload of pa.s.sengers over the rail, sailing into Yokohama harbor.

When a shipload of pa.s.sengers get off at Yokohama, there is joy among the rikisha boys, and the pa.s.sengers who are getting their first ride in a rikisha have an experience they will never forget. The first ride in a jinrikisha in j.a.pan is an experience to lay away among one's choice collection of experiences.

A first ride in a rikisha has been fully described by myself and published, and to go into it in these letters would be to plagiarize myself: so, on to Tokio, the capital and largest city in j.a.pan--the same old tremendous town, only more so--Greater Tokio has three million souls today. Compared to one of our great cities Tokio has the appearance of an overgrown village.