SOME SUMMER DAYS IN MARTINIQUE. 297 



was the tribute of some poor laborer, this shrine. 

 It has often been forced upon my notice, this rev- 

 erence of the ignorant for a giant tree. Here they 

 will bring their offerings, and prefer these leafy 

 temples to the more pretentious cathedrals. 



Steps were cut out from the great roots up to the 

 shrine, and I walked up to examine it. A shriek from 

 my attendant halted me, and I saw him upon his 

 knees, imploring me not to venture farther. Thinking 

 it was a foolish superstition regarding the approach of 

 an armed man to a place of veneration, I was about 

 assuring my boy that his fears were groundless, when 

 a movement above me drew my attention. 



Coiled along a branch, with half the body hanging 

 and the head drawn back awaiting my approach, was 

 the dreaded serpent, venomous glances, that hardly 

 lacked the power to slay, darting from its fiery eyes. 

 Another step and I should have received the blow ; 

 and that it would have been a fatal one I have little 

 doubt. Shot after shot rang out until the loathsome 

 reptile fell ; but even when he lay stretched upon the 

 ground did I not dare to tread upon him, so completely 

 had I lost faith in the protection of alligator boots. I 

 recalled the facetious advice of our consul, given as 

 I was preparing for my excursion to the mountains, 

 that my only safety lay in encasing myself securely 

 in iron armor. As a substitute for this, he advised 

 me to procure a barrel, cut holes for my head 

 and arms, and thrust my legs through sections of 

 stove-pipe. 



