It was up these hills and over the cliffs of the Pali that King Kamehameha drove to certain death the offending hordes in arms against his sovereignty. There was no escape for them. Once in this pass they had either to go over the precipice or back against the spears of the enemy. This being history, and not myth, it adds much to the thrill of the spectacle.

After a visit to the indescribable “aquarium of the painted fishes”⁠—painted, I suppose, by the bright sun-rays in the coral shallows of the tropic seas⁠—we went, as guests of Mr. Carter, a prominent member of the American colony, who afterward became governor of the islands, out to Waikiki Beach for surf-bathing⁠—or, surf-riding, as it is more aptly called.