I could now understand the cause of poor Toleho's intended expatriation. Oani would probably be given to another. Could he bear to witness it? to see her miserable? No; he would quit the scenes of his happy days, and, far away from objects which might agitate his mind, and interfere with duty, would spend his life in the service of Him who had graciously "called him from darkness to light." His friends at the mission-house had already arranged the matter with a captain, who would give him a passage in his ship to the American States, where he was to use every exertion in his power for the purpose of awakening an interest in the cause of the Polynesian mission. Toleho then informed me, that on the following morning would take place a great annual feast in honor of Pele, designed to deprecate the wrath of the volcanic goddess, and secure the country from earthquakes or inundations of lava, at which, of course, the khan and the young priestess would preside. This would afford him an opportunity of once more beholding the latter before he left the islands--the last time he could ever hope to do so; and, for the purpose of enjoying this melancholy pleasure, he had joined our party to the volcano. We now returned to the hut, and I went to repose, rejoicing that I should have an occasion of witnessing some of the idolatrous rites of the natives before their final abolition. Next morning, while my companions prepared to examine the various natural phenomena of the place, I put myself under the guidance of my new friend, who took me across the lava plain to the heiau, or temple, dedicated to Pele, an inclosure, with several stone idols standing in the midst of it. Votaries had already assembled around the shrine, adorning these frightful images with wreaths of flowers; and innumerable offerings were laid before them. As the devotees continued to arrive, my companion stood, watching every new comer, with an expression of anxiety and agitation. At length the sound of music was heard, and a procession approached, for which the crowd opened an avenue to the temple. At its head was an old man, attired in what I supposed were the pontifical robes, leading by the hand a young female. Over their heads was borne a canopy, and they were followed by a train of attendants, each carrying a staff of state, ornamented with polished tortoise-shell, the upper ends being of feathers. The sage was the khan, and his companion the priestess of Pele, whose beauty, I soon perceived had not been exaggerated in her lover's glowing description. Never had I beheld a form of more exquisite symmetry, set off by the simple elegance of the native costume--a robe of white cloth confined round the waist with a cincture of flowers; her head-dress was only "an od'rous chaplet of sweet summer buds," binding her dark tresses; while round her neck, arms, and slender ankles, were wreaths of the snowy and fragrant gardenia. The features of this young creature were faultless, but wore