Yesterday, When I Left, The Morning Was Brilliant, And After Ascending The Pali, I Stayed For Some Time On An Eminence Which Commands The Valley, Presented By Mr. Wyllie To Lady Franklin, In Compliment To Her Admiration Of Its Loveliness.

Hanalei has been likened by some to Paradise, and by others to the Vale of Caschmir. Everyone who sees it raves about it.

"See Hanalei and die," is the feeling of the islanders, and certainly I was not disappointed, nor should I be with Paradise itself were it even a shade less fair! It has every element of beauty, and in the bright sunshine, with the dark shadows on the mountains, the waterfalls streaking their wooded sides, the river rushing under kukuis and ohias, and then lingering lovingly amidst living greenery, it looked as if the curse had never lighted there.

Its mouth, where it opens on the Pacific, is from two to three miles wide, but the boundary mountains gradually approach each other, so that five miles from the sea a narrow gorge of wonderful beauty alone remains. The crystal Hanalei flows placidly to the sea for the last three or four miles, tired by its impetuous rush from the mountains, and mirrors on its breast hundreds of acres of cane, growing on a plantation formerly belonging to Mr. Wyllie, an enterprising Ayrshire man, and one of the ablest and most disinterested foreigners who ever administered Hawaiian affairs. Westward of the valley there is a region of mountains, slashed by deep ravines.

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