coast. At length it came in Keawe's mind to
have a sight of the great world and foreign cities, and he shipped on a
vessel bound to San Francisco.

This is a fine town, with a fine harbour, and rich people uncountable;
and, in particular, there is one hill which is covered with palaces.
Upon this hill Keawe was one day taking a walk with his pocket full of
money, viewing the great houses upon either hand with pleasure. "What
fine houses these are!" he was thinking, "and how happy must those
people be who dwell in them, and take no care for the morrow!" The
thought was in his mind when he came abreast of a house that was smaller
than some others, but all finished and beautified like a toy; the steps
of that house shone like silver, and the borders of the garden bloomed
like garlands, and the windows were bright like diamonds; and Keawe
stopped and wondered at the excellence of all he saw. So stopping, he
was aware of a man that looked forth upon him through a window so clear
that Keawe could see him as you see a fish in a pool upon the reef. The
man was elderly, with a bald head and a black beard; and his face was
heavy with sorrow, and he bitterly sighed. And the truth of it is, that
as Keawe looked in upon the man, and the man looked out upon Keawe,
each envied the other.

All of a sudden the man smiled and nodded, and beckoned Keawe to enter,
and met him at the door of the house.

"This is a fine house of mine," said the man, and bitterly sighed.
"Would you not care to view the chambers?"

So he led Keawe all over it, from the cellar to the roof, and there was
nothing there that was not perfect of its kind, and Keawe was
astonished.

"Truly," said Keawe, "this is a beautiful house; if I lived in the like
of it I should be laughing all day long. How comes it, then, that you
should be sighing?"

"There is no reason," said the man, "why you should not have a house in
all points similar to this, and finer, if you wish. You have some money,
I suppose?"

"I have fifty dollars," said Keawe; "but a house like this will cost
more than fifty dollars."

The man made a computation. "I am sorry you have no more," said he, "for
it may raise you trouble in the future; but it shall be yours at fifty
dollars."

"The house?" asked Keawe.

"No, not the house," replied the man; "but the bottle. For, I must tell
you, although I appear to you so rich and fortunate, all my fortune, and
this house itself and its garden, came o