320 CAMPS IN THE CARIBBEES. 
pect. The sea was like glass, upon the bay rested 
the three little islets which give the bourg of Zrozs- 
ftets its name. Beyond the bay, five miles away, lay 
Fort de France, and yet farther were the extinct vol- 
canoes of the Zyrozs Pitons, and away east, just a 
hint of the Atlantic. Below me rolled hill and valley, 
enclosing in their embrace La Pagerie, birthplace of 
Josephine. 
Never was scene more peaceful, nor solitude more 
sweet. Little wonder that Josephine should recur to 
it in memory again and again, when surrounded by 
the pomp and magnificence of courts. An hour 
passed, I lay in silent musing, gazing on the waving 
fields and shimmering sea: 
“Tis the fervid tropic noontime ; faint and low the sea-waves beat ; 
Hazy rise the inland mountains through the glimmer of the heat.” 
From this day-dream I was rudely awakened by a 
tremor of the earth beneath me; it seemed to tremble, 
to vibrate; and then ensued that feeling of uncertainty 
that one experiences when, at the crest of a mighty 
wave, he is about to descend into abysmal depths, 
with his heart in his mouth. 
Sadly I retraced my steps, not so much in love, 
I fear, with this beautiful spot, as an hour before. the 
shock. 
That afternoon, the river came down from the 
mountains a roaring torrent, washing away a bridge 
and a great deal of cane along its banks; and my 
host lamented the loss of several hundred francs the 
flood had cost him. That night, another earthquake 
occurred, which awoke me all too rudely and caused 
me to reflect upon the strength of the thin strips of 
