This “family” is apt to be made up of all his unattached friends and relatives, male and female, less well-off than himself, who sometimes pay for at any rate their food by a donation of a proportion of the family necessities in poi or canned meats or fish. Others, however, pay nothing at all. The thrifty, hardworking man is, therefore, often heavily handicapped. The more thoughtful of the older Hawaiians say that the next ten years must bring a change: mortgages contracted with no thought of repayment (sometimes the money has been borrowed to give a luau) will fall due; competition for work will increase; and while the head of the house may at the present time be earning a comfortable living as a carpenter, a blacksmith, a painter, or a longshoreman, etc., a man in the next generation, with his rent to pay, will find that his hospitality and even his ability to care for his immediate family may be curtailed. This of course in the event of his pursuing his present improvident way. The Hawaiian home—the wage-earner’s home—varies so that it is difficult to form any judgment of the economic status of the occupant. A tenement room, by its bareness, is apt to give an impression of extreme poverty which the facts in the case do not warrant. Cottages of well-to-do natives frequently have no furnishings but a lauhala mat on the floor and portraits of departed kings and queens on the wall. On the other hand, one happens on a heavily upholstered, gilt-picture-framed-center-table-with-the-family-Bible house which brings one back to the East Side of New York City with scarcely a jar. The native menu is simple; one full meal a day is the rule; coffee and bread or simply a bowl of poi constituting the other two. The omission of a meal or two now and then troubles the Hawaiian not at all. Poi, fish, fruit, with an occasional indulgence in yams, taro-top-greens and pork or chicken, forms the usual bill of fare. The holoku is still the almost universal dress of the native women. The missionary who had this sartorial inspiration was a true artist, for no other garment could give the touch of stateliness and dignity to the almost invariably full Hawaiian figure that in American attire might well be awkward and ungainly. The native girl of pure Hawaiian blood is generally large-boned, but slender—even to daintiness when there is a mixture of some other blood—with flashing eyes and a profusion of long, black hair, almost always with threads of grey before the twentieth year is reached. Her teeth are even and white and she laughs a great deal, particularly when she tells you that father or mother has joined the Mormons—not father _and_ mother—a procedure which is becoming more and more common, and which for some reason not yet made apparent, always affords the other members of the family much amusement.