ROYAL SCHOOL, HONOLULU.
It was on the eighth day of a voyage over the lovely azure waters of the broad Pacific that the Alameda neared the land, and many of her passengers half regretted that they were about to separate. The weather had been delightful, the breezes were light, the sky was nearly always clear, and the temperature high enough to make thick clothing uncomfortably warm, and an awning over the deck desirable. Since the second day out from San Francisco not a sail had been seen, as the sailing-ships take another track in order to obtain stronger and more favoring winds. Four or five whales had shown themselves, and a few schools of porpoises played around the vessel from time to time as though they wished to make the acquaintance of the strange monster.
THE PHYSALIA.
Flying-fish were numerous, and so were those curious denizens of the deep popularly known as "Portuguese men-of-war." One of the latter was caught by means of a bucket; a verdant passenger who admired its beautiful colors took it in his hand for a careful examination, but on feeling a stinging sensation he dropped it immediately. Doctor Bronson consoled him with the information that the scientific name of the Portuguese man-of-war is Physalis pelagica, and its power of stinging enables it to benumb its prey. It consists principally of an air-sac which floats it upon the water, and has long tentacles hanging down at various lengths. These tentacles are armed with stings; they paralyze any small fish that comes within their reach, and then act as fingers to sweep up the prize. It is a favorite trick of sailors to induce a novice to pick up a captured physalia, so that they may enjoy his haste in dropping it.
THE ISLAND OF OAHU.