332 CAMPS IN THE CARIBBEES. 



some fifteen hundred feet above the sea, is the sum- 

 mer camp of the governor and the troops. Spacious 

 buildings, including a hospital, barracks, and gov- 

 ernor's house, are almost hidden by trees, among 

 which the palmiste towers conspicuous with its gray 

 column and green coronet. Passing these, my road 

 led me to a little hamlet on the mountain-side over- 

 looking the Caribbean Sea, called Matouba. Nearly 

 all its little thatched houses were full, as the people 

 of Basse Terre, all who can afford it, come up here 

 at this, the sickly season, to enjoy the baths and the 

 cool air. Through the kindness of a friend I was able 

 to hire a small room, one of two, in a little thatched 

 hut eighteen feet by fourteen. The other half, sepa- 

 rated by a partition, over which I could easily make a 

 hand-spring, was occupied by the owner of the house, 

 his wife, brother, and three children. Contentedly I 

 swung my hammock from two corners of the room, 

 thanking a good Providence that I could enjoy all by 

 myself as much room as sufficed for the other six. 



For ten days I remained in Matouba, roaming over 

 the coffee plantations and climbing the hills in quest 

 of birds. Many streams dash hurriedly down from 

 the mountain, and there are waterfalls and cascades, 

 and high up the hill is the bain chaud, a warm spring 

 difficult of access. Tired of the continual rain, and 

 wishing for the society of some one speaking my own 

 language, I set off one morning, under guidance of 

 my boy "Co-co," to find the mayor of a neighboring 

 commune — the commune of St. Claude — who could, 

 I was told, speak English. Passing through the little 

 village, I entered a higher region devoted to coffee 

 plantations, and climbed to a spur of the Soufriere, 



