Io CAMPS IN THE CARIBBEES. 
government house in a garden of flowers; and near, 
the court-house, of stone, yellow and low. Opposite, 
on a bluff overlooking the sea, is the public garden, 
neatly enclosed, tastefully ornamented; a few large 
trees, many roses, humming-birds, butterflies, and a 
grand view of the sea. The road leads by a broad 
green savane, near which is a ruined cemetery, down 
between long rows of lowly cabins, its bed green and 
grassy, within a stone’s throw of the surf on the pebbly 
beach. i 
This is Roseau, which I left one March morning 
for the mountains. Early came the women, who were 
sent by a kind friend to carry my luggage: heavy 
boxes and bales they had engaged to carry to the 
mountains on their heads. It was all the way as- 
cending, but they faithfully performed their duties, 
nor once complained. Astride an island colt, the 
loan of another friend, and accompanied by still 
another, whom I had met a few days before, I left 
behind me the town, and set my face to the moun- 
tains. 
Down the street, past the jail, across the river over 
an excellent bridge, under the cliffs of St. Aromant, 
into the banana and citron groves that lie at the moun- 
tain’s base ; then up higher and higher, the path grow- 
ing rocky and slippery, past the lovely valley of 
Shawford, where the house of my friend Stedman, 
built upon a small plateau, surrounded by hills, em- 
bowered in limes and plantains, overlooks a tropical 
garden. A mile above, we entered a deep ravine, 
where are the first perfect tree-ferns on the trail; the 
gorge is filled with them, and the banks along the 
path are covered with smaller ones, infinitely beautiful. 
