On the largest of these islands, Hawaii--pronounced "Ha-y-e"--is the volcano, Kilauea, the largest volcano in the world.
We have seen it a great many times, and that you may see it as clearly as possible, you shall have a letter from the very spot. The letter reads:
"Here we are, a large party of us, looking into Kilauea, which is nine miles in circumference, and a thousand feet below us--a pit about seven times as deep as Niagara Falls are high. We came to-day, on horseback, from Hilo, a ride of thirty miles. Hilo is a beautiful sea-shore village, the largest on the island of Hawaii, and from it all visitors to Kilauea make their start.
"The road over which we came is nothing but a bridle-path, and a very rough one at that, traversing miles and miles of old lava flows. We had almost ridden to the crater's brink before we discovered, in the dim twilight, the awful abyss.
"Before us is the immense pit which, in the day-time, shows only a floor of black lava, looking as smooth as satin; and, miles away, rising out of this floor, are a few slender columns of smoke.
"At night, everything is changed; and you can't conceive of the lurid, demoniacal effect. Each slender column of smoke becomes a pillar of fire that rolls upward, throbbing as it moves, and spreads itself out above the crater like an immense canopy, all ablaze.
"Ships a hundred miles from land see the glow, and we here, on the precipice above, can read ordinary print by its lurid light.
"No wonder the natives worshiped the volcano. They thought it the home of a goddess, whom they named Pélé, and in times of unusual activity believed her to be very angry with them. Then they came in long processions, from the seashore villages, bringing pigs, dogs, fowls, and sometimes human beings, for sacrifice. These they threw into the crater, to appease her wrath.
"A small berry, called the ohélo, grows on the banks of the pit, and of these the natives never dared to eat until Pélé had first had her share. Very polite, were they not? And if ever they forgot their manners, I dare say she gave them a shaking up by an earthquake, as a reminder.
"Sandal-wood and strawberries grow all about here--and fleas, too! wicked fleas, that bite voraciously, to keep themselves warm, I think, for here, so far from Pélé's hearth, it is cold, and we sit by a log fire of our own.