strong and
pliant, and wore them with much pride.

When I see the bright feathers of birds, slain that hats may be
garnished for the thoughtless females of a higher grade of beings, I am
reminded somehow of the Dyaks and of the wearers of the necklaces made
of fingers.

A MID-PACIFIC FOURTH

The sun shone very fairly on a green hillside, from which could be seen
the town of Honolulu, the capital of Hawaii. The sun makes some very
fair efforts at shining upon and around those islands lying thousands of
miles out in the Pacific Ocean. He was doing his best on this particular
morning, and under his influence, so brightening everything, two little
boys and a little jackass were having a good time near a long, low,
rakish, but far from piratical-looking house upon the hillside already
mentioned. One of the boys was white, one of the boys was brown, and the
little jackass was gray. The name of the white boy was William Harrison,
though he was always called Billy, and his father, an American merchant
in Honolulu, owned the house near which the boys were playing. The name
of the brown boy was Manua Loa, or something like that, but he was
always called Cocoanut, the nickname agreeing perfectly with his general
solid, nubbinish appearance. The name of the jackass was Julius Caesar,
but he wore almost no facial resemblance to his namesake. The date of
the day on which the little boys and the little jackass were out there
together was July 3, 1897.

As far as the three playmates were concerned, there was a practical
equality in their relations between Billy and Cocoanut and Julius
Caesar. Billy's father was a rich white man, but Cocoanut's father was a
native and of some importance, too; and as for Julius Caesar he was
quite capable at times of asserting his own standing among the trio. He
could be, on occasions, one of the most animated kicking little
jackasses living upon this globe, upon which the moon doesn't shine
quite as well as the sun does. On the occasion here referred to the
little jackass stood apart with head hanging down toward the ground,
silent and unmoving, and apparently revolving in his own mind something
concerning the geology of the Dog Star. He could be a most reflective
little beast upon occasion. The boys sat together on a knoll, their
heads close together, engaged in earnest and animated and sometimes
loud-voiced conversation. There was occasion for their lively interest.
They were discussing