58 CAMPS IN THE CARIBBEES. 
nas; flowers were few, the crimson cups of the wild 
plantain were alone conspicuous. 
After three hours of hard scrambling we were re- 
warded by a view of the first sulphur valley contain- 
ing the“ petzte soufriére,” from which steam ascended 
in clouds. It is a basin several hundred feet deep, 
one side of which is broken down, surrounded by 
steep hills, the valley walls of which, mostly denuded 
by land-slides, are covered elsewhere by a sparse 
growth of vegetation. Seeing an opening in the trees, 
I prepared to descend, though the trail was faint and 
‘appeared old. But, being in advance and impatient 
to get at the wonder below, I ventured alone, and had 
proceeded but a few rods when I was assured by the 
sight of a familiar object —a bottle —on a stick. I 
am not sure but that a sight of it caused me to 
depart from the beaten path;. at any rate, I was di- 
verted, though the bottle was in-verted. A shout from 
above halted me just as I had reached the brink of a 
_ precipitous bank, the earth of which was beginning 
to crumble beneath my feet. Dejectedly I retraced 
my steps, my faith in the goodness of mankind some- 
what shaken. Months later, while conversing with a 
good friend — Dr. Nicholls, of Roseau — it came out 
that he was the culprit; that he had placed the bottle 
there in the kindness of his heart, as the good Indian 
is said to have set up a stake in every bog in which 
he got bemired, as a warning to others. 
A warning! In this thirsty land a bottle is as 
necessary to one’s existence as a loaf of bread; and I 
have met with those who held it more directly essential 
to the preservation of life than the generally recog- 
nized “ staff.” 
