CAMP LIFE IN THE TROPICS. 13 



cicada have closed their concerts and have left it to the 

 birds to usher in the matin hour ; and they are singing 

 in low, sweet strains far down in the gloomy ravines 

 below, and in the thickets bordering distant glades. 



My first duty is to examine my thermometer. It 

 registers sixty-eight degrees. That recorded, I step 

 out and refresh myself with such ablution as can be 

 enjoyed from a small calabash of rain-water. Soon, a 

 little colored maiden appears bearing a tray with my 

 coffee, and perhaps a cup of milk oftener without. 

 A cup of coffee and a slice of bread or a couple of 

 crackers, is my only refreshment until noon, when I 

 return from my tramp in the forest. 



When I first came to this mountain valley I brought 

 with me a bright, colored boy as aid, fondly hop- 

 ing he would be of much assistance in preparing my 

 birds, as well as in the culinary line. But, alas ! in 

 either profession he was singularly deficient, and save 

 in the preservation of cooked provisions, in other 

 words, "to keep food from spoiling," he was of no 

 use whatever. After three days passed in his society 

 we parted. There was also a question between him and 

 Jean Baptiste (the proprietor of my humble cot), relat- 

 ing to a few small articles that one night disappeared. 

 Now, he was highly incensed that such a thing 

 should happen within the limits of his jurisdiction, and 

 made such a row about it that I concluded that it were 

 best that " Sonny " and I should part, with no regrets 

 on my part, none expressed on his, for the laboring 

 class of the West Indies accept stoically whatever fate 

 drops to them as their share. The salary I was pay- 

 ing him was princely , being sixpence a day and " found," 

 while the usual remuneration for such service as he 



