SOME SUMMER DAYS IN MARTINIQUE. 297 
was the tribute of some poor laborer, this shrine. 
It has often been forced upon my notice, this rev- 
erence of the ignorant fora giant tree. Here they 
will bring their offerings, and prefer these leafy 
temples to the more pretentious cathedrals. 
Steps were cut out from the great roots up to the 
shrine, and I walked up to examine it. A shriek from 
my attendant halted me, and I saw him upon his 
knees, imploring me not to venture farther. Thinking 
it was a foolish superstition regarding the approach of 
an armed man toa place of veneration, J was about 
assuring my boy that his fears were groundless, when 
a movement above me drew my attention. 
Coiled along a branch, with half the body hanging 
and the head drawn back awaiting my approach, was 
the dreaded serpent, venomous glances, that hardly 
lacked the power to slay, darting from its fiery eyes. 
Another step and I should have received the blow ; 
and that it would have been a fatal one I have little 
doubt. Shot after shot rang out until the loathsome 
reptile fell; but even when he lay stretched upon the 
ground did I not dare to tread upon him, so completely 
had I lost faith in the protection of alligator boots. I 
recalled the facetious advice of our consul, given as 
I was preparing for my excursion to the mountains, 
that my only safety lay in encasing myself securely 
in iron armor. As a substitute for this, he advised 
me to procure a barrel, cut holes for my head 
and arms, and thrust my legs through sections of 
stove-pipe. 
