imploring for her destruction. But still Kinau wended her way—yes, the tender yet powerful passion of love supported her—the passion of love in woman, invincible love, which has caused the “change of empires and the loss of worlds,” has “inspired heroism and subdued avarice.” She succeeded in reaching the glen, where she bathed her bleeding feet for a moment in the waters of the cascade. The moon, which had before been hidden behind dark clouds, now peeped through an opening in them, as if anxious to look upon the devoted girl and admire her fortitude. The large gray owl, which inhabits the valleys, flapped his broad wings over her head as he moused among the rocks; and the quick-flying bat darted in and out of his caves, as if disturbed by the intruder. Lifting up her eyes, Kinau beheld a tall old man descending the Pelé. Quickly he took advantage of each jutting point of rock to secure his footsteps, and he descended with apparent ease to the spot where Kinau rested. Long gray hair fell over his shoulders, and he thus addressed the maiden: “Daughter of Kuakini, and the beloved of Tuanoa, I am he whom you seek. I have followed you from the valley of Menoa; I have watched and feel astonished at your strength, fortitude, and love. I know the spirit of darkness has come over you when the gladness of your heart was taken from you. Your love for the brave Tuanoa is like the mountain of Nuanu, fixed forever, and can not change; it is clear and bright as the water that falls from the Pelé; it is like the fire of the volcano of Waikukii, which is unquenchable. Daughter of Kuakini, arise! go to the valley of thy fathers, and rest in the bosom of thy neighbors; for I have seen a Great Spirit, who, before to-morrow’s sun reacheth the valley of Nuanu, shall come and save thy Tuanoa from the blood-consuming fire.” “Oh great Kelkuewa,” said Kinau, “your words are like water to the parched tarro; they are like the waters of the ocean to the expiring fish, which the fisherman returns to its element. I feel my heart lightened; the cold hand of the spirit of darkness has moved from my heart. Oh Kelkuewa,” continued the enraptured girl, “they say you have no daughter. I will be your daughter; I will make your tappas; I will water your tarro-patches, though I bring the water from the other side of the mountain of Nuanu.” The enchanter seized the hand of Kinau, assisted her over the Pelé, and saw her descend to the valley of her fathers.