The language of the meles is a dialect now unused, and unintelligible even to most of the people.  The whole chant concerns itself, however, with a detailed description of the person of the man or woman or child to which or in whose honor it is sung.  Thus a mele will begin with the hair, which may be likened in beauty to the sea-moss found on a certain part of Kauai; or the teeth, which “resemble the beautiful white pebbles which men pick up on the beach of Kaalui Bay on Maui;” and so on.  Indeed an ancient Hawaiian mele is probably, in its construction, much like the Song of Solomon; though I am told that the old meles concerned themselves with personal details by no means suitable for modern ears.  A mele is always sung for or about some particular person.  Thus I have heard meles for the present king; meles for a man or woman present; meles for a chief; and on one occasion I was told they sang a mele for me; and I judged, from the laughter some parts of it excited, that my feelings were saved by my ignorance of the language.

On all festive occasions, and on many others, the Hawaiian loves to dress his head with flowers and green wreaths.  Les or garlands are made of several substances besides flowers; though the most favorite are composed of jasmine flowers, or the brilliant yellow flowers of one kind of ginger, which give out a somewhat overpowering odor.  These are hung around the neck.  For the head they like to use wreaths of the maile shrub, which has an agreeable odor, something like that of the cherry sticks which smokers like for pipe stems.  This ornamentation does not look amiss on the young, for to youth much is forgiven; but it is a little startling, at a luau, to see old crones and grave grandfathers arrayed with equal gayety; and I confess that though while the flowers and leaves are fresh the decorated assembly is picturesque, especially as the women wear their hair flowing, and many have beautiful wavy tresses, yet toward evening, when the maile has wilted and the garlands are rumpled and decaying, this kind of ornamentation gives an air of dissipation to the company which it by no means deserves.

Finally, the daily life of the Hawaiian, if he lives near the sea-coast and is master of his own life, is divided between fishing, taro planting, poi making, and mat weaving.  All these but the last are laborious occupations; but they do not make hard work of them.  Two days’ labor every week will provide abundant food for a man and his family.  He has from five to ten dollars a year of taxes to pay, and this money he can easily earn.  The sea always supplies him with fish, sea-moss, and other food.  He is fond of fussing at different things; but he also lies down on the grass a good deal—­why shouldn’t he?—­he reads his paper, he plays at cards, he rides about a good deal, he sleeps more or less, and about midnight he gets up and eats a hearty supper.  Altogether he is a very happy creature, and by no means a bad one.  You need not lock your door against him; and an election and a luau occasionally, give him all the excitement he craves, and that not of an unwholesome kind.