[begin page 442] 
          
          
CHAPTER 65
          
          
             By and by, after a rugged climb, we halted on the summit of a hill which
             commanded a far-reaching view. The moon rose and flooded mountain and valley and ocean
             with a mellow radiance, and out of the shadows
             of the foliage the distant lights of Honolulu glinted like an encampment of fire-fliesⒶ. The air was heavy with the fragrance of flowers. The halt was brief. GaylyⒶ laughing and talking, the party galloped on, and IⒶ clung to the pommel and cantered after. Presently we came to a place where no grass
             grew—a wide expanse of deep sand.
             They said it was an old battle-ground. All around everywhere, not three feet apart,
             the bleached bones of men gleamed white in the
             moonlight. We picked up a lot of them for mementoesⒺ. I got quite a number of arm bones and leg bones—of great chiefs, maybe, who had
             fought savagely in that fearful battle in
             the old days, when blood flowed like wine where we now stood—and wore the choicest
             of them out on Oahu afterward, trying to make
             him go. All sorts of bones could be found except skulls; but a citizen said, irreverently,
             that there had been an unusual number of
             “skull-hunters” there lately—a species of sportsmen I had never heard of before.Ⓐ
             
          
          Nothing whatever is known about this place—its story is a secret that will never be
             revealed. The oldest natives make no pretense of being possessed of its history. They
             say these bones were here when they were
             children. They were here when their grandfathers were children—but how they came here,
             they can only conjecture. Many people
             believe this spot to be an ancient battle-ground, and it is usual to call it so; and
             they believe that these skeletons have lain for
             ages just where their proprietors fell in the great fight. Other people believe that
             Kamehameha I fought his first battle here. On this
             point, I have heard a story, which may have been  [begin page 443] taken from one of the numerous books which have been
             written concerning these islands—I do not know where the narrator got it. He said
             that when Kamehameha (who was at first merely
             a subordinate chief on the island of Hawaii), landed here, he brought a large army
             with him, and encamped at Waikiki. The Oahuans
             marched against him, and so confident were they of success that they readily acceded
             to a demand of their priests that they should draw
             a line where these bones now lie, and take an oath that, if forced to retreat at all,
             they would never retreat beyond this boundary.
             The priests told them that death and everlasting punishment would overtake any who
             violated the oath, and the march was resumed.
             Kamehameha drove them back step by step; the priests fought in the front rank and
             exhorted them both by voice and inspiriting example
             to remember their oath—to die, if need be, but never cross the fatal line. The struggle
             was manfully maintained, but at last the
             chief priest fell, pierced to the heart with a spear, and the unlucky omen fell like
             a blight upon the brave souls at his back; with a
             triumphant shout the invaders pressed forward—the line was crossed—the offended gods
             deserted the despairing army, and,
             accepting the doom their perjury had brought upon them, they broke and fled over the
             plain where Honolulu stands now—up the
             beautiful Nuuanu Valley—paused a moment, hemmed in by precipitous mountains on either
             hand and the frightful precipice of
             the PariⒺ
             Ⓐ in front, and then were driven over—a sheer plunge of six hundred feet!
          
          The story is pretty enough, but Mr. Jarves’sⒶ excellent historyⒺ says the Oahuans were intrenched in Nuuanu Valley; that
             Kamehameha ousted them, routed them, pursued them up the valley and drove them over
             the precipice. He makes no mention of our bone-yard
             at all in his book.Ⓐ
             
          
          Impressed by the profound silence and repose that rested over the beautiful landscape,
             and
             being, as usual, in the rear, I gave voice to my thoughts. I said:
          
          “What a picture is here slumbering in the solemn glory of the moon! How strong the
             rugged
             outlines of the dead volcano stand out against the clear sky! What a snowy fringe
             marks the bursting of the surf over the long, curved
             reef! How calmlyⒶ the dim city  [begin page 444] sleeps yonder in the plain! How soft the shadows lie upon the stately mountains that
             border the dream-haunted ManoaⒶ Valley! What a grand pyramid of billowy clouds towers above the storied Pari! How
             the grim warriors of the past seem flocking in
             ghostly squadrons to their ancient battlefield again—how the wails of the dying well
             up from the—Ⓐ”
          
          
          
          At this point the horse called Oahu satⒶ down in the sand. Sat down to listen, I suppose. Never mind what he heard. I stopped
             apostrophising and convinced him that I was
             not a man to allow contempt of courtⒶ on the part of a horse. I broke the back-bone of a chiefⒶ over his rump and set out to join the cavalcade again.
          
          Very considerably fagged out we arrived in town at nineⒶ o’clock at night, myself in the lead—for when my horse finally came to understand
             that he was homeward bound and
             hadn’t far to go, he turned his attention strictly to businessⒺ.Ⓐ
             
          
          
             
             ThisⒶ is a good time to drop in a paragraph of information. There is no regular livery
             stable in Honolulu, or, indeed, in any part of
             the kingdom of Hawaii; therefore, unless you are acquainted with wealthy residents
             (who all have good horses), you must hire animals
              [begin page 445] of the wretchedestⒶ description from the Kanakas (i. e. natives.)Ⓐ Any horse you hire, even though it be from a white man, is not often of much account,
             because it will be brought in for you from
             some ranch, and has necessarily been leading a hard life. If the Kanakas who have
             been caring for him (inveterate riders they are) have
             not ridden him half to death every day themselves, you can depend upon it they have
             been doing the same thing by proxy, by
             clandestinely hiring him out. At least, so I am informed. The result is, that no horse
             has a chance to eat, drink, rest, recuperate, or
             look well or feel well, and so strangers go about the IslandsⒶ mounted as I was to-day.
          
          In hiring a horse from a Kanaka, you must have all your eyes about you, because you
             can rest
             satisfied that you are dealing with a shrewd unprincipled rascalⒶ. You may leave your door open and your trunk unlocked as long as you please, and
             he will not meddle with your property; he has
             no important vices and no inclination to commit robbery on a large scale; but if he
             can get ahead of you in the horse business, he will
             take a genuine delight in doing it. This trait is characteristic of horse-jockeysⒶ, the world over, is it not? He will overcharge you if he can; he will hire you a
             finelooking horse at night
             (anybody’s—maybe the King’s, if the royal steed be in convenient view), and bring
             you the mate to my Oahu in the
             morning, and contend that it is the same animal. If you make troubleⒶ, he will get out by saying it was not himself who made the bargain with you, but
             his brother, “who went out in the
             country this morning.” They have always got a “brother” to shift the responsibility
             upon. A victim said to one of
             these fellows one day:
          
          “But I know I hired the horse of you, because I noticed that scar on your
             cheek.”
          
          The reply was not bad: “Oh, yes—yes—my brother all same—we
             twins!”
          
          A friend of mine, J. SmithⒺ, hired a horse yesterday, the Kanaka warranting him to be in excellent condition.
             Smith had a saddle and blanket of
             his own, and he ordered the Kanaka to put these on the horse. The Kanaka protested
             that he was perfectly willing to trust the gentleman
             with the saddle that was already on the animal,  [begin page 446] but Smith refused to use it. The change was made; then
             Smith noticed that the Kanaka had only changed the saddles, and had left the original
             blanket on the horse; he said he forgot to change
             the blankets, and so, to cut the bother short, Smith mounted and rode away. The horse
             went lame a mile from town, and afterward got to
             cutting up some extraordinary capers. Smith got down and took off the saddle, but
             the blanket stuck fast to the horse—glued to a
             procession of raw placesⒶ. The Kanaka’s mysterious conduct stood explained.
          
          
          
          Another friend of mine bought a pretty good horse from a native, a day or two ago,
             after a
             tolerably thorough examination of the animal. He discovered to-day that the horse
             was as blind as a bat, in one eye. He meant to have
             examined that eye, and came home with a general notion that he had done it; but he
             remembers now  [begin page 447] that
             every time he made the attempt his attention was called to something else by his victimizer.
          
          
             
             
One more 
instance
Ⓐ, and then I will pass to something else. I am informed that when 
             a certain Mr. L.
Ⓔ, a visiting stranger,
Ⓐ was here he bought a pair of very respectable-looking match horses from a native.
             They were in a little stable with a partition
             through the middle of it—one horse in each apartment. 
Mr. L.
Ⓐ examined one of them critically through a window (the Kanaka’s “brother” having gone
             to the country with
             the key), and then went around the house and examined the other through a window on
             the other side. He said it was the neatest match he
             had ever seen, and paid for the horses on the spot. Whereupon the Kanaka departed
             to join his brother in the country. The 
fellow
Ⓐ had shamefully swindled 
L.
Ⓐ There was only one “match” horse, and he had examined his starboard side through
             one window and his port side
             through another! I decline to believe this story, but I give it because it is worth
             something as a fanciful illustration of a fixed
             fact—namely, that the Kanaka horse-jockey is fertile in invention and elastic in conscience.
          
          
             YouⒶ can buy a pretty good horse for forty or fifty dollars, and a good enough horse for
             all practical purposes for two dollars and a
             half. I estimate Oahu to be worth somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty-five cents.
             A good deal better animal than he is was sold
             here day before yesterday for a dollar and seventy-five centsⒶ, and sold again to-day for two dollars and twenty-five cents; 
             WilliamsⒶ
             Ⓔ bought a handsome and lively little pony yesterday for ten dollars; and about
             the best common horse on the island (and he is a really good one) sold yesterday,
             with MexicanⒶ saddle and bridle, for seventy dollars—a horse which is well and widely known, and
             greatly respected for his speed, good
             disposition and everlasting bottom. You give your horse a little grain once a day;
             it comes from San  [begin page 448] Francisco, and is worth about two cents a pound; and you give him as much hay as he
             wants; it is cut and brought to the market by
             natives, and is not very good; it is baled into long, round bundles, about the size
             of a large man; one of them is stuck by the middle
             on each end of a six-foot pole, and the Kanaka shoulders the pole and walks about
             the streets between the upright bales in search of
             customers. These hay bales, thus carried, have a general resemblance to a colossal
             capital H.
          
          
          
          
             TheⒶ hay-bundles cost twenty-five cents apiece, and one will last a horse about a day.
             You can get a horse for a song, a
             week’s hay for another song, and you can turn your animal loose among the luxuriant
             grass in your neighbor’s broad front
             yard without a song at all—you do it at midnight, and stable the beast again before
             morning. You have been at no expense thus
             far, but when you come to buy a saddle and bridle they will cost you from twenty to thirty-five
             dollarsⒶ. You can hire a horse, saddle and bridle at from seven to ten dollarsⒶ a week, and the owner will take care of them at his own expense.Ⓔ
             Ⓐ
             
          
          
             It is time to close this day’s record—bed
             time. As I prepare for  [begin page 449] sleep, a rich voice rises out of the still night, and, far as this ocean rock is
             toward the ends of the earth, I recognize a familiar home air. But the words seem somewhat out of
             joint:Ⓐ
             
          
          
             
             
                Waikiki 
                lantaniⒶ
                Ⓐ
                oeⒶ Kaa hooly hooly wawhoo.Ⓐ
                
              
          
          
             Translated, that means “When we were marching through
             Georgia.”Ⓔ
             
          
          
             
             
             
           
       
          Editorial Emendations CHAPTER 65
          Ⓐ 
             fire-flies (C)  ● 
             fire- 
 |  flies (A) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             CHAPTER 65 . . . brief. Gayly (C)  ● 
             CHAPTER LXV. . . . brief.—Gayly (A) 
             
             
indented from right
             Honolulu,
             March, 1866. 
centered
             The Equestrian Excursion
                Concluded. [¶] I wandered along the sea beach on my steed Oahu around the base of the extinct
             crater of Leahi, or Diamond
             Head, and a quarter of a mile beyond the point I overtook the party of ladies and
             gentlemen and assumed my proper place—that
             is, in the rear—for the horse I ride always persists in remaining in the rear in spite
             of kicks, cuffs and curses. I was
             satisfied as long as I could keep Oahu within hailing distance of the cavalcade—I
             knew I could accomplish nothing better even
             if Oahu were Norfolk himself. [¶] We went on—on—on—a great deal too far, I thought,
             for people who were
             unaccustomed to riding on horseback, and who must expect to suffer on the morrow if
             they indulged too freely in this sort of exercise.
             Finally we got to a point which we were expecting to go around in order to strike
             an easy road home; but we were too late; it was full
             tide and the sea had closed in on the shore. Young Henry McFarlane said he knew a
             nice, comfortable route over the hill—a short
             cut—and the crowd dropped into his wake. We climbed a hill a hundred and fifty feet
             high, and about as straight up and down as
             the side of a house, and as full of rough lava blocks as it could stick—not as wide,
             perhaps, as the broad road that leads to
             destruction, but nearly as dangerous to travel, and apparently leading in the same
             general direction. I felt for the ladies, but I had
             no time to speak any words of sympathy, by reason of my attention being so much occupied
             by Oahu. The place was so steep that at times
             he stood straight up on his tip-toes and clung by his forward toe-nails, with his
             back to the Pacific Ocean and his nose close to the
             moon—and thus situated we formed an equestrian picture which was as uncomfortable
             to me as it may have been picturesque to the
             spectators. You may think I was afraid, but I was not. I knew I could stay on him
             as long as his ears did not pull out. [¶] It
             was a great relief to me to know that we were all safe and sound on the summit at
             last, because the sun was just disappearing in the
             waves, night was abroad in the land, candles and lamps were already twinkling in the
             distant town, and we gratefully reflected that
             Henry had saved us from having to go back around that rocky, sandy beach. But a new
             trouble arose while the party were admiring the
             rising moon and the cool, balmy night-breeze, with its odor of countless flowers,
             for it was discovered that we had got into a place
             we could not get out of—we were apparently surrounded by precipices—our pilot’s chart
             was at fault, and he could
             not extricate us, and so we had the prospect before us of either spending the night
             in the admired night-breeze, under the admired
             moon, or of clambering down the way we came, in the dark. However, a Kanaka came along
             presently and found a first-rate road for us
             down an almost imperceptible decline, and the party set out on a cheerful gallop again,
             and Oahu struck up his miraculous canter once
             more. The moon rose up, and flooded mountain and valley and ocean with silvery light,
             and I was not sorry we had lately been in
             trouble, because the consciousness of being safe again raised our spirits and made
             us more capable of enjoying the beautiful scene
             than we would have been otherwise. I never breathed such a soft, delicious atmosphere
             before, nor one freighted with such rich
             fragrance. A barber shop is nothing to it. 
centered
             A
                Battle-Ground Whose History Is Forgotten. [¶] Gayly (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             I (A)  ● 
             with set teeth and bouncing body I (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             before. (A)  ● 
             before. The conversation at this point took a unique and ghastly turn. A gentleman
             said: [¶] “Give me some of
             your bones, Miss Blank; I’ll carry them for you.” [¶] Another said: [¶] “You haven’t
             got bones
             enough, Mrs. Blank; here’s a good shin-bone, if you want it.” [¶] Such observations
             as these fell from the lips of
             ladies with reference to their queer newly-acquired property: [¶] “Mr. Brown, will
             you please hold some of my bones for me
             a minute?” And, [¶] “Mr. Smith, you have got some of my bones; and you have got one,
             too, Mr. Jones; and you have
             got my spine, Mr. Twain. Now don’t any of you gentlemen get my bones all mixed up
             with yours so that you can’t tell them
             apart.” [¶] These remarks look very irreverent on paper, but they did not sound so,
             being used merely in a business way
             and with no intention of making sport of the remains. I did not think it was just
             right to carry off any of these bones, but we did
             it, anyhow. We considered that it was at least as right as it is for the Hawaiian
             Government and the city of Honolulu (which is the
             most excessively moral and religious town that can be found on the map of the world),
             to permit those remains to lie decade after
             decade, to bleach and rot in sun and wind and suffer desecration by careless strangers
             and by the beasts of the field, unprotected by
             even a worm-fence. Call us hard names if you will, you statesmen and missionaries!
             but I say shame upon you, that after raising a
             nation from idolatry to Christianity, and from barbarism to civilization, you have
             not taught it the comment of respect for the dead.
             Your work is incomplete. 
centered
             Legendary.
              (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             Pari (A)  ● 
             Pari [pronounced 
Pally; intelligent natives claim that there is no 
r in the
             Kanaka alphabet] (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             Jarves’s (C)  ● 
             Jarves’ (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             book. (A)  ● 
             book. [¶] There was a terrible pestilence here in 1804, which killed great numbers
             of the inhabitants, and the
             natives have legends of others that swept the islands long before that; and therefore
             many persons now believe that these bones
             belonged to victims of one of these epidemics who were hastily buried in a great pit.
             It is by far the most reasonable conjecture,
             because Jarves says that the weapons of the Islanders were so rude and inefficient
             that their battles were not often very bloody. If
             this was a battle it was astonishingly deadly, for in spite of the depredations of
             “skull hunters,” we rode a
             considerable distance over ground so thickly strewn with human bones that the horses
             feet crushed them, not occasionally, but at every
             step. 
centered
             Sentiment.
              (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             calmly (A)  ● 
             camly (SU) 
             
 
          
          
          Ⓐ 
             sat (A)  ● 
             deliberately sat (SU) 
             
 
          
          
          
          Ⓐ 
             turned . . . business. (A)  ● 
             threw his legs wildly out before and behind him, depressed his head and laid his ears
             back, and flew by the admiring
             company like a telegram. In five minutes he was far away ahead of everybody. [¶] We
             stopped in front of a private
             residence—Brown and I did—to wait for the rest and see that none were last. I soon
             saw that I had attracted the
             attention of a comely young girl, and I felt duly flattered. Perhaps, thought I, she
             admires my horsemanship—and I made a
             savage jerk at the bridle and said, “Ho! will you!” to show how fierce and unmanageable
             the beast was—though, to
             say truly, he was leaning up against a hitching-post peaceably enough at the time.
             I stirred Oahu up and moved him about, and went up
             the street a short distance to look for the party, and “loped” gallantly back again,
             all the while making a pretense of
             being unconscious that I was an object of interest. I then addressed a few “peart”
             remarks to Brown, to give the young
             lady a chance to admire my style of conversation, and was gratified to see her step
             up and whisper to Brown and glance furtively at me
             at the same time. I could see that her gentle face bore an expression of the most
             kindly and earnest solicitude, and I was shocked and
             angered to hear Brown burst into a fit of brutal laughter. [¶] As soon as we started
             home, I asked, with a fair show of
             indifference, what she had been saying. [¶] Brown laughed again and said: “She thought
             from the slouchy way you rode and
             the way you drawled out your words, that you was drunk! She said, ‘Why don’t you take
             the poor creature home, Mr. Brown?
             It makes me nervous to see him galloping that horse and just hanging on that way,
             and he so drunk.’ ” [¶] I
             laughed very loudly at the joke, but it was a sort of hollow, sepulchral laugh, after
             all. And then I took it out of Oahu. 
centered
             An Old Acquaintance. [¶] I have found an
             old acquaintance here—Rev. Franklin S. Rising, of the Episcopal ministry, who has
             had charge of a church in Virginia, Nevada,
             for several years, and who is well known in Sacramento and San Francisco. He sprained
             his knee in September last, and is here for his
             health. He thinks he has made no progress worth mentioning towards regaining it, but
             I think differently. He can ride on horseback,
             and is able to walk a few steps without his crutches—things he could not do a week
             ago. (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             This (A)  ● 
             
             
centered
             About Horses and Kanaka
                Shrewdness. [¶] This (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             wretchedest (A)  ● 
             vilest (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             Kanakas (
i. e. natives.) (C)  ● 
             Kanakas. (i. e. natives.) (A) 
             Kanakas. (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             Islands (A)  ● 
             islands (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             a shrewd unprincipled rascal (A)  ● 
             as shrewd a rascal as ever patronized a penitentiary (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             horse-jockeys (C)  ● 
             horse jockeys (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             make trouble (A)  ● 
             raise a row (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             places (A)  ● 
             sores (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             “
my brother all same—we twins!” (C)  ● 
             
             
my brother—we twins. (A) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             instance (A)  ● 
             yarn (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             a certain Mr. L., a visiting stranger, (A)  ● 
             Leland (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             Mr. L. (A)  ● 
             Leland (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             fellow (A)  ● 
             scoundrel (SU) 
             
 
          
          Ⓐ 
             You (A)  ● 
             
             
centered
             Honolulu Prices for
                Horseflesh. [¶] You (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             seventy-five cents (A)  ● 
             six bits (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             Williams (A)  ● 
             Brown (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             Mexican (A)  ● 
             good Mexican (SU) 
             
 
          
          Ⓐ 
             twenty to thirty-five dollars (A)  ● 
             $20 to $35 (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             seven to ten dollars (A)  ● 
             $7 to $10 (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             expense. (A)  ● 
             expense. [¶] Well, Oahu worried along over a smooth, hard road, bordered on either
             side by cottages, at intervals,
             pulu swamps at intervals, fish ponds at intervals, but through a dead level country
             all the time, and no trees to hide the wide
             Pacific ocean on the right or the rugged, towering rampart of solid rock, called Diamond
             Head or Diamond Point, straight ahead. (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             It . . . joint: (A)  ● 
             
             
centered
             “While We Were Marching
                Through Georgia!” [¶] The popular-song nuisance follows us here. In San Francisco it used to be “Just
             Before
             the Battle Mother,” every night and all night long. Then it was “When Johnny Comes
             Marching Home.” After that it
             was “Wearin’ of the Green.” And last and most dreadful of all, came that calamity
             of “When We Were
             Marching Through Georgia.” It was the last thing I heard when the ship sailed, and
             it gratified me to think I should hear it no
             more for months. And now, here at dead of night, at the very outpost and fag-end of
             the world, on a little rock in the middle of a
             limitless ocean, a pack of dark-skinned savages are tramping down the street singing
             it with a vim and an energy that make my hair
             rise!—singing it in their own barbarous tongue! They have got the tune to perfection—otherwise
             I never would have
             suspected that (SU) 
             
 
          Ⓐ 
             lantani (SU)  ● 
             lantoni (A) 
             
 
          
          Ⓐ 
             Waikiki . . . wawhoo. (C)  ● 
             
             
centered “Waikiki . . .
             wawhoo.” (A) 
             
             
indented “Waikiki . . . wawhoo
⁁” (SU) 
             
 
        
       
          Explanatory Notes CHAPTER 65
          Ⓔ Gayly
             . . . business.] Mark Twain based this portion of the text on his letter in the Sacramento
             
Union of 24 April 1866, revising it 
 [begin page 712] for inclusion in 
Roughing It (
SLC 1866o). 
The “we” in the opening sentence
             of the chapter refers to the “half a dozen gentlemen and three ladies” whom he had
             intended to accompany
             (436.7–8). In revising the 
Union printing he deleted his report of catching up to his party.
 
          Ⓔ We picked up a lot of
             them for mementoes] Clemens mentioned his explorations of Oahu’s “ancient battle-fields
             & other places of
             interest” to his mother and sister in a letter of 3 April 1866 and added: “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” (
                   L1
                   , 334).
 
          Ⓔ the Pari] In his 
Union letter Mark Twain supplied a parenthetical explanation of the term “Pari” at this
             point:
             “pronounced 
Pally; intelligent natives claim that there is no 
r in the Kanaka
             alphabet” (
SLC 1866o). 
Early writings on the
             Sandwich Islands used variant spellings of some sounds (such as “l/r” and “k/t”),
             reflecting regional
             differences in pronunciation. The spelling “Pari” was less common than “Pali,” which
             became the standard
             form (
Jarves 1847, 46; 
Ellis, 13–17;
             
Charles Samuel Stewart, 95).
 
          Ⓔ Mr. Jarves’s excellent
             history] During his stay in the islands, Clemens made use of the extensive library
             of a Honolulu friend, Samuel Chenery Damon
             (1815–85), chaplain of the American Seamen’s Friend Society, pastor of the Oahu Bethel
             Church, and publisher and editor
             of the 
Friend, a monthly newspaper. 
“I take your Jarves’
             History with me, because I may not be able to get it at home,” Clemens confessed to
             his friend just before his departure for
             San Francisco in July; “I ‘cabbage’ it by the strong arm” (
                   L1
                   , 349). The copy he appropriated was almost certainly the third edition of Jarves’s
             
History of the Hawaiian Islands, published in Honolulu in 1847: Clemens quoted at length from this edition in two
             
Union letters, one of which was used for 
Roughing It (see the notes at
             469.30–470.5 and 470.11–472.43; 
SLC 1866x, 
1866aa). His borrowing of the Jarves book was the subject of some humorous chaffing in the
             Hawaiian press. He
             finally mailed the book back to Damon in May 1867 (
SLC 1867h; 
                   MTH
                   , 155–63; 
                   L1
                   , 349–50).
 
          Ⓔ This
             . . . expense.] Mark Twain based this portion of the text on his letter in the Sacramento
             
Union of 21 April 1866, revising it for inclusion in 
Roughing It; he used the beginning and end of this
             letter in the previous chapter (
SLC 1866n; see the note at 436.1–441.20).
 
          Ⓔ J. Smith] This may be a
             reference to Clemens’s shipboard acquaintance Captain James Smith (see the note at
             421.22–423.19), although that
             identification is belied by an entry of March 1866 in one of Clemens’s notebooks:
             
“No
             good livery horses—put em on ranch, Kanakas hire em out or ride em to death. Trick
             they played Wheelock by keeping their own
             blanket on sore-back horse” (
                   N&J1
                   , 219). A
             “Mr. Wheelack” had arrived in Honolulu from San Francisco on 7 January 1866 and had
             stayed at the Volcano House on the
             island of Hawaii in early March (“Passengers,” 
Friend 17 [1 Feb 66]: 16; 
Volcano House Register, 74).
 
          Ⓔ a certain Mr. L.]
             “Mr. L.” is more fully identified in the 
Union text as “Leland” (
SLC 1866n). 
Lewis Leland (1834–97) was the
             proprietor—until 1868—of San Francisco’s Occidental Hotel, where Clemens made several
             sojourns in the mid-1860s.
             In 1868 Clemens named Leland as a reference, assuring Jervis Langdon, his future father-in-law,
             that Leland had known him
             “intimately for 3 or 4 years” (
                   L2
                   , 359). Clemens
             frequently mentioned the convivial Leland in his reporting, and recounted a humorous
             anecdote of Leland’s January 1866 trip to
             Honolulu aboard the 
Ajax for his 
Enterprise readers (
SLC 1866f).
 
          Ⓔ Williams] The fictional
             Williams also figures in Mark Twain’s account of the 
Ajax voyage in chapter 62 (see the note at
             421.17–20). 
The 
Union text for the present passage, however, reads
             “Brown,” the name Mark Twain gave to a comic figure appearing throughout the 
Union letters, first
             as a passenger aboard the 
Ajax. (The ship’s passenger list did include a merchant named “W. H.
             Brown,” but he returned to San Francisco on 4 April 1866 and thus could not have been
             the Brown of the 
Union letters, who supposedly accompanied Clemens on his excursion to the island of Hawaii
             in May and June.) The boisterous and
             vulgar Brown, who reappears in Mark Twain’s 1866–67 letters to the San Francisco 
Alta California,
             is undoubtedly a composite creation, a comic foil incorporating elements of Clemens’s
             own personality with those of some actual
             companions. In revising the 
Union letters for 
Roughing It Clemens consistently deleted
             passages involving Brown, or changed his name, as he did in this instance (
SLC 1866n; 
Ajax passenger list, 
PH in 
CU-MARK; 
                   N&J1
                   , 182 n. 6; “Passengers,”
             
Friend 17 [1 May 66]: 40).
 
          Ⓔ I recognize a familiar
             home air . . . “When we were marching through Georgia.”] Mark Twain derived this remark
             from his 24
             April 
Union letter, in which he commented, “If it would have been all the same to General Sherman,
             I
             wish he had gone around by the way of the Gulf of Mexico” (
SLC 1866o). 
Henry Clay Work (1832–84) wrote the lyrics and music for “Marching through Georgia”
             in
             1865 to commemorate 
 [begin page 713] General Sherman’s Georgia campaign of late 1864. Mark Twain had protested
             being “attacked, front and rear,” by this immensely popular song in a letter to the
             
Enterprise in
             late 1865 (
SLC 1865w). A few months later, in one of his Hawaiian notebooks, he wrote:
             “I wish Sherman had marched through Alabama,” and in December 1866 he included the
             song in a list of “the
             d—dest, oldest, vilest songs” (
                   N&J1
                   , 228,
             262).