July 4, 1860: Rose Ranch, Maui

Fourth of July in the Country

Source: Pacific Commercial Advertiser: Thursday, July 12, 1860

The morning of the fourth of July, 1860, dawned on few pleasanter spots than “Rose Ranch,” the hospitable mansion and plantation of Capt. James Makee, on East Maui. There were few merrier-hearted companies gathered to do honor to “The Day we celebrate” than were there assembled around the festive boards on that morning. The reputation of the floral beauty of Rose Ranch is not excelled by that of its open-handed hospitality. Beneath its roof, good cheer, cordial greeting, and liberal bounty are unstinted, and the frank cordiality extended to all who pass its threshold makes all, even those who came as strangers, soon feel at home. The unrivaled beauty of the garden deserves more than a mere mention; but it would require an artist’s brush on canvas to appropriately portray it. Surely “the desert has been made to bud and blossom like the rose.”  Those who remember the place before it came in possession of its present proprietor, would scarcely recognize it now. It is aptly named Rose Ranch, for they bloom on hundreds of bushes, and of every variety, from the “tiny dwarf” that Fairies might sport under, to the majestic and gaudy “Luxembourg” that stands over fifteen feet high-the beauty and pride of the garden; from the modest, ever-to-be-admired “moss rose” to the bright crimson “giant of battles”; while dahlias of every shade, delicate fuschias, with our home pinks, and an almost endless variety of other flowers, gathered from the four-quarters of the globe, combine to make it one of the most beautiful spots on the islands.

Nor for its floral beauty only is this spot admired, but with an eye to a variety of taste, we find here the apple-tree, the fig, the grape, the strawberry-guava, the strawberry, the banana, and the papaya-thus joining the useful with the ornamental. No one whose eyes have feasted on the scene will think it strange we linger in such suen lovely places, which the hands of the proprietor and his lady, more than any others, have served to beautify and adorn.

But, interesting as the garden is, the pride of the proprietor is now very justly turning to his cane field, of which he may well feel satisfied as giving ample promise for a rich harvest. Noticing a certain air of busy bustle and preparation among the ladies, a pinning up of skirts and a pinning up of aprons, while a variety of fragrant smells give intimation of coming good things, let us mount for a ride over the fields, and enjoy the splendid prospect from the hills. It is now only about eighteen months since the first fields were planted with cane by the present proprietor; the former owner had a sugar plantation here, but it had been suffered to run out, and now we see before us about a hundred and seventy-five acres, in all stages of growth, from the delicate sprout just shooting up through the brown earth, to the well filled out standing cane, nearly ripened for the mill. We notice the different varieties-from the white cane, that does not thrive well, to the dark red and green, whose very rind tells of rich juice that it encases.

Here is the wealth of “Rose Ranch” –and may it never fail to yield a rich return to its liberal owner. May the drought not dry up nor the cut-worm destroy these evidences of its material prosperity. But, long may the cane wave. The landscape view that lies before us is one of exquisite beauty. The flower and shrub-embowered cottage nestles at our feet, while quite a little village has sprung up around it to accommodate the wants that gather round a plantation. The land slopes rapidly to the sea, distant two or three miles, whose shore it outlined with a milk-white edging of surf, more beautiful than the most delicate lace work. A gentle breeze ripples the waters that glisten in the morning sun, while far out at sea we can see the white caps chasing one another down the channel that separates us from Hawaii. Yonder are the islands of Kahoolawe and Lanai, whose barren sides give but little encouragement to the agriculturalist, but which add much to the beauty of the view. To our right, the cloud-capped peaks of West Maui, six thousand feet above the sea, fill up the strong outlines of the landscape, and present a sight well worth the visit to see. It was among such scenery that a goodly party assembled on Wednesday last, July 4^th, to celebrate American Independence. And while the company was enjoying itself here and there, active participations were manifest on every side. The “hands” of the plantation were to have a grand feast, and were permitted to invite their friends. Judging from the hundreds assembled, there must have been some very extensive family connexions, and many friendships among them. However, there was no niggardly dispensing, to judge from the slaughtered beef and pork, that waited but to be served up-and there was enough to spare.

At noon, the reports of a national salute went thundering among the hills, waking the echoes, and  if, perchance, some spirits of the old volcano on whose side we were, slept uneasily, they might have been aroused, thinking that Pele herself was coming on a friendly visit from her pit at Kilauea, on Hawaii; or that Kamapuas, their centaur, had landed again, and was sending his “aloha” up the hills.

Dinner was announced, and seldom was a more bounteous or more beautifully decorated table spread than that to which our guests were introduced. The sparkling viands, delicacies and fruits placed before the company drew out the warmest compliments. That they were fully appreciated was amply shown by the remnants that were left. It was no banquet-hall deserted, but one replete with life, gaiety and good cheer, and the merry laugh testified to the cheerful hilarity of the occasion. The company was gathered from widely-separated countries. There was of course a large majority from home –“the land of the free and the home of the brave.” All its sections were represented, and all united as a band of brothers and sisters, to keep thos our nation’s natal day. But the representatives from “the old countries” were there too-the German, the Swede, the Irishman, and those island-born who called this home-all mingled harmoniously; for was not the beacon-light of liberty lighted July 4^th, 1776-a light to all the earth? Well it is, then, that all, of whatever name or kindred, should join in offering up incense to the God of Nature, that liberty may reign, and the oppressor be vanquished, and the enslaved go free.

Not the least amusing of our table festivities was a singularly constructed piece of pottery, that had come “many a mile” from far away, and was quite a curiosity. Not as old as the relics of Pompeii and Punch-Bowl, it still had its story to tell of days of departed greatness. This ancient relic, under the ever-ready hands of the young master of Rose Ranch, was placed upon the table for a spiritual manifestation, and acquitted itself most wonderfully. Suffice it to say, there were no sad or glowing communications to interrupt the flow of humor that prevailed; no “knockings” but what all understood; no superfluous “rappings,” but of such nature that the most timid among us could interpret. Strange to say, these manifestations did not leave till that witching hour-midnight-when spirits most do walk abroad. After dinner, we were entertained and amused by horse-races, ridden by the men and by the women, and foot-races ran by the boys and by the girls-all of which sports passed off without serious accident to mar the pleasure. A display of most brilliant fire-works-rockets, Roman candles, wheels, serpents, torbellions, Chinese fire-crackers and torpedoes-that would have done honor to any city, closed the more public sports of the day, and truly “astonished the natives,” –few of whom probably never saw such brilliant exhibitions of pyrotechnics. These were, fire as they were, and which illuminated most beautifully the grounds, and the happy group gathered on the veranda, paled before the light of the full moon rising in her glory and shedding a flood of light over a scene that might have answered well for the locale of “The Mid-summer Night’s Dream.”

Soon the music of the piano called the dancers to their places, and with quadrille, polka, lancer and schottische, the hours passed very quickly away. Patriotism manifested itself in national songs. And thus the hours of “the day after” drew near, when all joining in a bumper, standing, we drank –To the memory of “The great and good” –“The father of his country,” whose pleasant countenance looked down upon us from the walls, and who looked not on a pleasanter, happier company that day, than shoes who passed their 4^th of July, 1860, at Rose Ranch.

ALOHA.