On our way up 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 heard shouts from the shore, and saw a boat pursuing us in hot haste.  We stopped, and received on board a basket of beautiful ferns and other parcels from different friends.  A second boat was then seen coming off to us, which contained a fine dish of delicious honey and some flowers.  The order to go ahead again was scarcely given, before a third boat, in, if possible, hotter haste than the two previous ones, put off after us, bringing some things the laundress had forgotten.