When an Elder has the spirit of his mission, he cannot rest contented unless he is proclaiming to the people the message with which he is entrusted. Surround him with every comfort his heart can desire, and if he has that spirit, he will still be anxious to go forth among the people, even if he knows he will meet with privations and persecution. This was my feeling before the visit of the president of the mission, and after he left, my anxiety increased, and I told the brethren that I must push out among the natives; and commence preaching to them as well as I could. I had made very good progress in the language, and felt able to explain in part the first principles of the gospel. About a week after the president's visit I started off, intending, if I did not get an opening, to go around the island. But the Lord had revealed to me that I would find a people prepared to receive the truth; and I started as a man would who was going to meet his friends. Though I had never seen them in the flesh, I knew that when I met them they would not be strangers unto me. Borrowing Brother Bigler's valise, one which he had carried many a day himself while on a mission in the States, I started, feeling as proud of the privilege of swinging it across my shoulder as any knight ever was at wearing, for the first time, his gold spurs. The great desire of my heart from my early boyhood had been to have the Priesthood and the privilege of preaching the gospel. This desire was now about to be gratified, and though I was timid and very bashful, I felt that God would carry me safely through. The brethren accompanied me about four miles on my way. We were far from all our friends, and were strangers in a strange land; our parting, therefore, as might be expected, was painful. They remained to continue their study of the language. It was plain to me that the angel of the Lord was with me; for at whatever place I stopped, I was received most kindly, and the best the people had was at my service. The principal food of the natives of the Sandwich Islands is called _poi_. This is made out of a root which they call _kalo_. "Kalo" patches are so made that they can be flooded with water; and the ground is never allowed to be uncovered. In planting this root they do not use seed. When a native gathers the "kalo," he carries it to his home, where he cuts off the tops. These are carefully saved, tied up in a bundle, and carried back to the patch. These tops he sticks in the mud at the proper distances apart, and at the end of about eleven months he has another crop of "kalo." This is the process of gathering and planting. The "kalo" bears some resemblance in its leaves and taste to the wild Indian turnips, but its root is much larger; not quite the shape of a tame turnip, but as large as a moderate sized one. There is a variety called the "dry land kalo." It is not so extensively cultivated as the other kind, and is not considered so good eating.