the hill to the Mausoleum, there was a funeral going on,
very much after the style of an Irish wake in one of the dwellings of
the poorer class. The house was decorated with flags, and was crowded
with people, all dressed in black, and generally with bright yellow
_leis_ over their heads and necks. They had evidently come from some
distance, judging by the number of carts and wagons drawn up outside
the door. Several people were sitting in an upper verandah. The corpse
was laid out in the lower room, facing the road, as we could see
through the open windows and door. It was surrounded by mourners, and
four women were waving large _kahilis_ slowly backwards and forwards
in front of it.

The Princess herself met us at the Mausoleum, which is a small but
handsome stone Gothic building, situated above the Nuuanu Avenue, on
the road to the Pali. It commands a fine view over land and sea, and
the gentle breezes waft through the open windows sweet scents from the
many fragrant trees and flowers by which it is surrounded. There lay
the coffins of all the kings of Hawaii, their consorts, and their
children, for many generations past. The greater part were of polished
_koa_ wood, though some were covered with red velvet ornamented with
gold. Many of them appeared to be of an enormous size; for, as I have
already observed, the chiefs of these islands have almost invariably
been men of large and powerful frames. The bones of Kamehameha I. were
in a square oak chest. At the foot of the coffin of Kamehameha IV.
there were two immense _kahilis_ about twelve feet high, one of
rose-coloured, the other of black feathers, with tortoise-shell
handles. The remains of King Luna'ilo are not here, having been buried
just outside the native church in the town. In the vestibule to the
tombs of the kings rests the coffin of Mr. Wylie, described as 'the
greatest European benefactor of the Hawaiian people.' A ship now in
the harbour bears his name, and one constantly meets with proofs of
the respect and reverence in which his name is held.

The Princess drove us down to the wharf, where we said good-bye to her
with feelings of the greatest regret. I cannot express the sorrow
that we all feel at leaving the many kind friends we have met with in
'dear Honolulu,' as Muriel calls it. But the farewells were at last
over, the anchor was weighed, and the yacht, which was by this time
once more in apple-pie order, began slowly to move ahead. Suddenly we