an instant, you almost fancy that a shark has seized him -for sharks sometimes attack the swimmers - but soon he reappears from the seaward side of the wave that now shatters itself upon the lava-rock. His head is already turned from the shore, and he is again making his way into deep water to mount another billow. 9. Some of the natives become so expert in this sport that they will kneel, or even stand upright, upon the surfboard while in full career, a feat which is a little similar to that of the velocipedists who balance their steeds without using their hands. They even change their position upon the board while they are in motion. 10. The greatest skill is necessary to keep the surfboard at the proper angle of inclination, and to retain the right position upon the front surface of the wave. If the swimmer gets too far forward he will be sent heels over head by the combing of the billow, or stopped instantly and hurt by the point of the surf-board striking the ground. If, on the other hand, he rides too near the top of the wave, it will pass over him and leave him behind. 11. But accidents never happen through the unskil fulness of the swimmers. It would be strange if they should, for the Hawaiian is familiar with the sea from his birth, and seems almost an amphibious being. Most of the native children, indeed, are taken into the sea, when but three or four days old, by their mothers; and I have known children who could swim before they could walk. You can hardly pass one of their villages, indeed, without seeing a company of youngsters playing in the sea. 12. They have a number of games which they pursue, in and under the water, as fearlessly as school-children gambol in the play-ground. One is a kind of goal, in which the object of the side that is "in " is to make two or three successive stations by swimming and diving so as to escape being touched by any player of the "out" party, who are the pursuers. This game requires a good deal of finessing talent, to mislead your opponent in regard to the direction in which you mean to dive. More than this, you must be able to hold your breath for a hundred seconds or more, or you will have to come to the surface to "blow," like a whale, at some critical position, and so lose your game, as I have lost it many a time. 13. Sometimes the native children fix a long pole so as to project from the bank over deep water; along this they chase one another to the outermost end, leaping in regular succession into the water. Leaping from high, perpendic ular cliffs is a favorite and daring sport with the men. They choose a place where the water is not less than fif teen or twenty feet in depth at the foot of the cliff; then, taking a rousing run, to get fairly under way-like Washington Irving's Dutchman, who started to jump over the mountain they bound far into the air from the edge of the cliff. 14. As the leaper falls from the dizzy height-sometimes a hundred feet by measurement- toward the water, he bends himself almost double, as in wanton muscular play; but just before striking the water, he partially straightens himself so that his whole body is slightly curved forward at the moment of the plunge, and the feet are, perhaps, a foot in advance of a perpendicular line let fall from the head. He strikes the water without a splash, entering it with that quick, dull chuck that a smooth pebble makes when thrown forcibly into water, and at an angle with the surface, so nicely calculated that he is actually brought to the surface again by the momentum of the fall. With his body curved as I have described, he shoots through the arc of a circle under the water, and after two or three seconds comes up, feet foremost. The first thing you see of him is his toes, emerging from the water fifteen or twenty feet in front of the place where he went under. No athletic feat is more daring and beau· tiful than this. 15. The sensations experienced by one who falls from a great height have not, I think, been described in print. A singular good fortune having made the writer of this article an expert in leaping in Hawaiian manner, he is able to give some account of them. Until you are thoroughly practised in the leap, you have a decided inclination to think twice about the matter before you risk it. You first dive at the foot of the cliff, and satisfy yourself that there is sufficient depth of water. You watch one after another of your companions, as they bound in long parabolic curves from the edge of the cliff; but it requires some nerve to throw yourself deliberately from a high precipice into mid-air. 16. The solid ground seems a much more comfortable place. At last, nerving yourself, you run and leap. Instantly you have a feeling of floating rather than of falling—such a feeling, I suppose, as a bird has when rapidly alighting from an elevated flight. There is no sense of accelerated motion as you fall; but you feel your hair blown upward by a fierce current of air. This does not, however, in the least embarrass your breathing. The notion that people have "their breath taken away" in falling from a height is erroneous. 17. In an instant comes the plunge; and you must enter the water in exactly the right position, or it will hurt you almost like the solid earth. If you enter it with a splash, you meet its resistance too suddenly, and may be lamed or stunned. The greatest leaper, Sam Patch, thus lost his life. Had he possessed Hawaiian skill and a sober head, he would never have lost his position while falling, as in his last leap at Genesee Falls. Could an islander have taught him how to come out toes foremost, he might have been alive and leaping at the present day. You, wiser than he, come safely to the surface, swim ashore, and prepare for another leap.-Dr. T. M. Coan. LESSON 18. WHAT MAKES A WOMAN? NOT costly dress nor queenly air; Not jeweled hand, complexion fair; 2 T is not the casket that we prize, 3. She who doth all these goods combine Can man's rough nature well refine; Hath all she needs in this frail life To fit for mother, sister, wife. He who possesses such a friend, Should cherish well till death doth end. Woman, in fine, the mate should be, LESSON 19. NOTHING BUT LEAVES. OTHING but leaves! The Spirit grieves O'er sins committed while conscience slept; Folly, and shame, and strife; 2. Nothing but leaves! No gathered sheaves Of life's fair ripening grain; We sow our seeds, lo! tares and weeds, 3. Nothing but leaves! Sad memory weaves And as we trace our weary way, Nothing but leaves. 4. Ah! who shall thus the Master meet, Lay down for golden sheaves |