SOME SUMMER DAYS IN MARTINIQUE. 289 
JHE WAYSIDE SHRINE, 
scribe a semicircle above its stem. Inside the shrine 
is the sorrowful mother, carved of wood, and having 
her heart, pierced with arrows, on the outside of her 
robe, showing that sculptors, like poets, have a license 
to do not as other mortals. “MAatTrrR Dotorosa, 
Ora pro Nosis.” Good Catholics are they who pass 
this shrine, for, one and all, they cross themselves 
devoutly. 
At the entrance to the garden is a keeper’s lodge, 
of stone. A foaming stream rushes under a wooden 
bridge, across which is a smaller garden, in which 
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