From the fish-market we went to the prison, a large and apparently
admirably managed establishment, built of stone, and overlooking the
harbour. After a pleasant drive along shady fragrant roads, we
returned to Emma Square, to hear the excellent performance of the
Saturday afternoon band. There was a good assemblage of people, on
horseback, in carriages, and on foot, and crowds of children, all more
or less white, languid, and sickly-looking. Poor mites! I suppose the
climate is too hot for European constitutions. Still, they abound
among the foreigners, while the natives are gradually, but surely,
dying out. Among the whole royal family there is only one child, a
dear little girl of rather more than a year old. Princess Kauilani
('Sent from Heaven') she is always called, though she has a very long
string of additional names. She is heiress-presumptive to the throne,
and is thought a good deal of by everybody. Among twenty of the
highest chiefs' families there is only one baby. On the other hand,
all the foreign consuls, ministers, missionaries, and other white
residents, appear to have an average of at least half a dozen in each
family.

After the performance was over, we walked to the Princess Likelike's
house, where we were entertained at a _poi_ supper. The garden was
illuminated, the band played and a choir sang alternately, while
everybody sat out in the verandah, or strolled about the garden, or
did what they liked best. Prince Leleiohoku took me in to supper,
which was served in the native fashion, in calabashes and on leaves,
laid on mats on the floor, in the same manner as the feast at Tahiti.
The walls of the dining-room were made of palm-leaves and bananas, and
the roof was composed of the standards of the various members of the
royal family, gracefully draped. At one end of the long table, where