THE HURRICANE SEASON. 169 
riviere. By different names do the residents of these 
islands call these gatherings in the open air, which 
in other places are denominated picnics. Fartze 
riviére, the French name, has a_ suggestiveness 
about it that picnic has not; and to go on a “ maroon 
party,” as they sometimes style it, transports one in 
imagination at once to the wild forests. 
In the afternoon we were all gathered at the upper 
end of the valley, beneath a great mango; cloths were 
spread on the ground, and-upon them were placed 
our eatables: roast pig, chickens, and vegetables, 
with ale, claret, and sherry. The pére and myself 
were the only members of the party who were not, in 
a manner more or less remote, connected with the im- 
mortal Ham; but that did not mar our enjoyment of 
the festivities. Before the spread had been well dis- 
cussed, a sudden shower came down with fury — as 
showers are apt to do in the summer season — sus- 
pending operations and driving us to shelter. As we 
were on the upper bank of the river, and the stepping- 
stones were covered a foot deep in fifteen minutes, we 
were all obliged to wade the turbid stream, in great 
discomfort. 
These June showers, though lacking the force of 
those of the later months of the year, are nevertheless 
of frequent occurrence. They warned me away from 
an island so mountainous, and but a week passed be- 
fore I was speeding north to an island of lesser eleva- 
tion, and consequently less rainfall. 
Furnished with letters of introduction from the presi- 
dent of Dominica, Mr. Eldredge, I visited the islands 
of Barbuda and Antigua, spending there two months, 
shooting deer, pigeons, doves, and wild guinea-fowl. 
