On a fateful Saturday night, the one when we drew five dollars apiece against our payday, Peter, the boy, and I decided to go ashore and have our hair cut by a regular barber and then indulge in the pleasure of a luxurious bath with plenty of soap and a good big tub of hot water. After the hair cut the bath--and this took us to a Japanese establishment that was conducted upon true oriental lines. As a bath house it was A1, but in addition to the supply of hot water, which was drawn by a female attendant, I found that she (the attendant) was ready to remain and assist in the scrubbing. Being of a modest turn of mind myself, and unable to converse with this would-be helper, I finally made known my desire for her removal by pushing her through the door. The floor was slippery and in my embarrassment I may have given her too hearty a shove, for she lost her footing and shot out in a most undignified manner, "cutting the star" as we used to call it when skating. Peals of laughter sounded through the flimsy walls, the Japs taking the whole thing in good part. However, in the native Japanese quarter, this sort of thing was considered proper, and, as I afterward learned more of the Japanese, while in their islands, I found that it was all a simple matter of point of view and nothing at all extraordinary. Of Peter a great deal might be said. He was a type of the young American who will, when circumstances force him into it, go to sea. However, I have only touched upon him lightly, as he in no way represented that bygone breed of sailor that made history on the hard square riggers of that day. Peter had a delightful voice that passed in Honolulu in lieu of real coin, at least among the Kanakas, where his wit and general good nature won him many friends. We attended a luau up in the Nuuanu Valley, a real native feast where we were received royally because of the high regard in which Peter was held by the Kanakas. Poi, one finger stuff, and none of your poverty stricken watery three and two finger poi of the stevedores and little island traders, was on the bill of fare. Pork, fish, and fruits of all kinds afforded by the islands were served to us on _ti_ leaves, while _swipes_ flowed freely. Peter sang "Hawaii Ponoi" over and over again with our hosts, and we wound up late at night with the native girls dancing the Hula Hula. All very decent, of course, but calculated to impress one with the broader range of vision accorded simple strangers traveling in that land of song and sunshine when without the stodgy hall mark of smug respectability to hamper them in their enjoyment. Peter astonished the natives by sleight of hand tricks with a pack of worn playing cards, and before we left them had dated us up for another engagement. My head the following morning was something to be remembered with respect, and I swore off all further indulgence in the Kanaka's wonderful hospitality.