a corner, at
the head of a glen, where a few flagstones fallen across a gully
gave an uncertain foothold, and paused, under damp rocks covered
with white and pink Begonias and ferns of innumerable forms, to
drink the clear mountain water out of cups extemporised from a
Calathea leaf; and then struggled up again over roots and ledges,
and round the next spur, in cool green darkness on which it seemed
the sun had never shone, and in a silence which when our own voices
ceased, was saddening, all but appalling.

At last, striking into a broader trace which came from the westward,
we found ourselves some six or eight hundred feet above the sea, in
scenery still like a magnified Clovelly, but amid a vegetation
which--how can I describe? Suffice it to say, that right and left
of the path, and arching together over head, rose a natural avenue
of Cocorite palms, beneath whose shade I rode for miles, enjoying
the fresh trade wind, the perfume of the Vanilla flowers, and last,
but not least, the conversation of one who used his high post to
acquaint himself thoroughly with the beauties, the productions, the
capabilities of the island which he governed, and his high culture
to make such journeys as this a continuous stream of instruction and
pleasure to those who accompanied him. Under his guidance we
stopped at one point, silent with delight and awe.

Through an arch of Cocorite boughs--ah that English painters would
go to paint such pictures, set in such natural frames--we saw,
nearly a thousand feet below us, the little bay of Fillette. The
height of the horizon line told us how high we were ourselves, for
the blue of the Caribbean Sea rose far above a point which stretched
out on our right, covered with noble wood, while the dark olive
cliffs along its base were gnawed by snowy surf. On our left, the
nearer mountain woods rushed into the sea, cutting off the view, and
under our very feet, in the centre of an amphitheatre of wood, as
the eye of the whole picture, was a group--such as I cannot hope to
see again. Out of a group of scarlet Bois Immortelles rose three
Palmistes, and close to them a single Balata, whose height I hardly
dare to estimate. So tall they were, that though they were perhaps
a thousand feet below us, they stood out against the blue sea, far
up toward the horizon line, the central palm a hundred and fifty
feet at least, the two others, as we guessed, a hundred and