mountains shut out all indications of Honolulu, in the cool green
loneliness one could image oneself in the temperate zones. The
peculiarity of the scenery is, that the hills, which rise to a
height of about 4,000 feet, are wall-like ridges of grey or coloured
rock, rising precipitously out of the trees and grass, and that
these walls are broken up into pinnacles and needles. At the Pali
(wall-like precipice), the summit of the ascent of 1,000 feet, we
left our buggy, and passing through a gash in the rock the
celebrated view burst on us with overwhelming effect. Immense
masses of black and ferruginous volcanic rock, hundreds of feet in
nearly perpendicular height, formed the pali on either side, and the
ridge extended northwards for many miles, presenting a lofty, abrupt
mass of grey rock broken into fantastic pinnacles, which seemed to
pierce the sky. A broad, umbrageous mass of green clothed the lower
buttresses, and fringed itself away in clusters of coco palms on a
garden-like stretch below, green with grass and sugar-cane, and
dotted with white houses, each with its palm and banana grove, and
varied by eminences which looked like long extinct tufa cones.
Beyond this enchanted region stretched the coral reef, with its
white wavy line of endless surf, and the broad blue Pacific, ruffled
by a breeze whose icy freshness chilled us where we stood. Narrow
streaks on the landscape, every now and then disappearing behind
intervening hills, indicated bridle tracks connected with a
frightfully steep and rough zigzag path cut out of the face of the
cliff on our right. I could not go down this on foot without a
sense of insecurity, but mounted natives driving loaded horses
descended with perfect impunity into the dreamland below.

This pali is the scene of one of the historic tragedies of this
island. Kamehameha the Conqueror, who after fierce fighting and