THE ISLAND OF MARTINIQUE 351 



names, which it is useless fco repeal here, such as the Bon- 

 Die-uianie-moiii ("The good God handled me"), etc. 



A fine road Leads from St. Pierre to the village of Mon 

 Rouge, situated two thousand feet above the sea. In the 

 village is a shrine to the Virgin, which is visited by the 

 inhabitants. Along this road are many shrines and little 

 chapels with crucifixes and statues, with Lamps burning 

 before them. This road Leads by the beautiful botanical 

 garden, and passes many fine and solid stone bridges. 



The Janl'm des IMantes is one of the famous places of the 

 world, although now somewhat neglected and overrun by 

 the native foliage. One of Ream's mosl beautiful word- 

 pictures is that which he gives of this lovely spot: 



The Jardin des Plantes is not absolutely secure from the visits 

 of the serpenl ; for the trigonocephalus goes everywhere, mount- 

 ing to the very summits of the cocoa-palms, Bwimming rivers, 

 ascending walls, hiding in palm-thatched roofs, breeding in ba- 

 gasse-heaps. But, despite what has been printed to the contrary, 

 this reptile tears man and hates light; it rarely shews itself 

 voluntarily during the day. Therefore, if you desire to obtain 

 seme conception of the magnificence of Martinique vegetation, 

 without incurring the risk of entering the high woods, you can do 

 so by visiting the Jardin des Plantes, only taking care to use 

 your eyes well while climbing over fallen trees or picking your 

 way through dead branches. The garden is less than a mile from 

 the city, on the slopes of the Morne Parnassej and the primitive 

 forc.-t itself has been utilized in the formation of it. so that the 

 greater part of the garden is a primitive growth. Nature has 

 accomplished here infinitely more than art of man (though such 

 art has done much to lend the place its charm), and until within 

 a very recent time the result might have been deemed, without 

 exaggeration, one of the wonders of the world. . . . 



A moment after passing the gate you are in twilight, though 

 the sun may be blinding on the white road without. All about 

 you is a green gloaming, up through which you see immense 



trunks rising \> you proceed, the garden on your right 



deepens more and more into a sort of ravine; on your left risee 

 a sort of foliage-shrouded cliff j and all this in a beautiful crepus- 



