ASCENT OF THE GUADELOUPE SOUFRIERE. 33 1 



the fallibility of passport-makers. Indeed, were I 

 famished with a few more accurate descriptions, I 

 should certainly lose my identity and wander about in 

 a maze of uncertainty, feeling, like those immortal 

 twins, decidedly mixed. My American description 

 gives my eyes as brown, mouth small, nose straight, 

 hair brown, and face oval. To this a justice of the 

 peace has affixed hand and seal. A French official, 

 in the name of the governor, positively asserts that 

 eyes and eyebrows are black, mouth large {bouche 

 grandc), nose aquiline, "visage ovale" and com- 

 plexion blanc — which is supposed to be light. To 

 avoid any unpleasantness with the numerous gen- 

 darmes who patrol the country, I carried both pa- 

 pers. 



Armed, then, with my -pcrmis dc c/iasse, and sped 

 on my way with a hearty bon voyage from the chief 

 of police, I turned my horse's head toward the moun- 

 tains. He was a picturesque animal, that horse ; and 

 when I say picturesque, I use the term in its most 

 artistic sense, for by no other can I do justice to his 

 many projecting points, bold features, and rough angu- 

 larities. He, indeed, was a horse of many points — 

 good ones, too, perhaps, in a certain sense. Hang- 

 ing my umbrella from one of his shoulder-blades, and 

 grasping his mane with one hand, I vaulted into the 

 dilapidated saddle, deeply sunken between loins and 

 withers. With a groan he started forward, putting in 

 motion his somewhat formidable array of joints, and I 

 ascended the hills to the rattle of bones. 



Beyond the government buildings is the Convent 

 of Versailles, where the girls of the island are edu- 

 cated ; and higher up, occupying a broad plateau 



