320 CAMPS IN THE CARIBBEES. 



pect. The sea was like glass, upon the bay rested 

 the three little islets which give the bourg of Trots- 

 Ilcts its name. Beyond the bay, five miles away, lay 

 Fort de France, and yet farther were the extinct vol- 

 canoes of the Trots Pitons, and away east, just a 

 hint of the Atlantic. Below me rolled hill and valley, 

 enclosing in their embrace La Pagerie, birthplace of 

 Josephine. 



Never was scene more peaceful, nor solitude more 

 sweet. Little wonder that Josephine should recur to 

 it in memory again and again, when surrounded by 

 the pomp and magnificence of courts. An hour 

 passed, I lay in silent musing, gazing on the waving 

 fields and shimmering sea : 



" 'Tis the fervid tropic noontime ; faint and low the sea-waves beat ; 

 Hazy rise the inland mountains through the glimmer of the heat." 



From this day-dream I was rudely awakened by a 

 tremor of the earth beneath me ; it seemed to tremble, 

 to vibrate ; and then ensued that feeling of uncertainty 

 that one experiences when, at the crest of a mighty 

 wave, he is about to descend into abysmal depths, 

 with his heart in his mouth. 



Sadly I retraced my steps, not so much in love, 

 I fear, with this beautiful spot, as an hour before the 

 shock. 



That afternoon, the river came down from the 

 mountains a roaring torrent, washing away a bridge 

 and a great deal of cane along its banks ; and my 

 host lamented the loss of several hundred francs the 

 flood had cost him. That night, another earthquake 

 occurred, which awoke me all too rudely and caused 

 me to reflect upon the strength of the thin strips of 



