He fitted in with the languorous island existence, but he had come for business, and he lost not much time.  He found there a number of friends from Washoe, including the Rev. Mr. Rising, whose health had failed from overwork.  By their direction, and under official guidance, he set out on Oahu, one of the several curious horses he has immortalized in print, and, accompanied by a pleasant party of ladies and gentlemen, encircled the island of that name, crossed it and recrossed it, visited its various battle-fields, returning to Honolulu, lame, sore, sunburnt, but triumphant.  His letters home, better even than his Union correspondence, reveal his personal interest and enthusiasms.

I have got a lot of human bones which I took from one of these battle-fields.  I guess I will bring you some of them.  I went with the American Minister and took dinner this evening with the King’s Grand Chamberlain, who is related to the royal family, and though darker than a mulatto he has an excellent English education, and in manners is an accomplished gentleman.  He is to call for me in the morning; we will visit the King in the palace, After dinner they called in the “singing girls,” and we had some beautiful music, sung in the native tongue.

It was his first association with royalty, and it was human that he should air it a little.  In the same letter he states:  “I will sail in a day or two on a tour of the other islands, to be gone two months.”

‘In Roughing It’ he has given us a picture of his visits to the islands, their plantations, their volcanoes, their natural and historic wonders.  He was an insatiable sight-seer then, and a persevering one.  The very name of a new point of interest filled him with an eager enthusiasm to be off.  No discomfort or risk or distance discouraged him.  With a single daring companion—­a man who said he could find the way—­he crossed the burning floor of the mighty crater of Kilauea (then in almost constant eruption), racing across the burning lava floor, jumping wide and bottomless crevices, when a misstep would have meant death.

By and by Marlette shouted “Stop!” I never stopped quicker in my life.  I asked what the matter was.  He said we were out of the path.  He said we must not try to go on until we found it again, for we were surrounded with beds of rotten lava, through which we could easily break and plunge down 1,000 feet.  I thought Boo would answer for me, and was about to say so, when Marlette partly proved his statement, crushing through and disappearing to his arm-pits.

They made their way across at last, and stood the rest of the night gazing down upon a spectacle of a crater in quivering action, a veritable lake of fire.  They had risked their lives for that scene, but it seemed worth while.

His open-air life on the river, and the mining camps, had prepared Samuel Clemens for adventurous hardships.  He was thirty years old, with his full account of mental and physical capital.  His growth had been slow, but he was entering now upon his golden age; he was fitted for conquest of whatever sort, and he was beginning to realize his power.