316 CAMPS IN THE CARIBBEES. 
my relations and the old friends who once loved and 
still love me tenderly.” 
On the day succeeding that on which I took my 
photographs, some of the tiles above the dormer win- 
dows were shaken down by an earthquake. Around 
the house are cocoa and mango trees, sapadillos and 
avocado pears; but none are left of the majestic palms 
that are said to have surrounded the dwelling. The 
quiet beauty of the place, the gentle manners of Mon- 
sieur Mareschal, the proprietor, and the historic asso- 
ciations of the valley, all combined to form an attraction 
not to be resisted, and I begged permission to stay 
a while. My new friend readily acceded, but hesi- 
tated to offer me the only accommodations the estate 
afforded, a room in the negro barracks ; but I assured 
him that I had camped in worse places, and before 
nine o’clock that night I was established. My room 
was very small, but in it Madame Mareschal had 
placed an iron camp-bedstead and a chair, and to it 
my faithful John had removed my effects. It was in 
the center of a long, low structure, built against the 
garden wall, once used as quarters for the servants 
when the estate was in flourishing circumstances. 
Right and left of me were negro families; but 
of their dirt and noise, and kind attentions, I will 
not speak. For ten days I stayed there, having a 
seat at my friend’s table, and sleeping at night in the 
barracks. 
Over the hills which surrounded the valley on every 
side I rambled, with a little negro as guide, and ex- 
plored many a nook, that, if it could speak, would tell 
delightful stories of the historic past. Of the many 
pleasant days passed there, let me give a description 
