iously blended together in sweet
unison, like a regular pot-pourri!

The showery avalanche, besides cooling and sweetening the air with the
balmy breath of the flowers which its influence extracted, left also
other evidence of its effect behind. This was especially apparent in
the swelling torrent of muddy water, drained from the slopes of the
mountain-side above the house and now impetuously rushing down an
impromptu gully which the flood had scooped out for itself across the
grounds, following the course of the carriage drive almost up to the
entrance-gate, where the suddenly-created cataract, diverging into a
hollow to the left, made another exit for itself through the cactus
hedge into the cocoa plantation beyond.

Jake was much longer in getting the horses saddled than I had expected;
and I had to shout out for him more than once before he came up to the
steps of the terrace with the especial animals he had charge
of--"Prince," my pony, a skittish little bay from the Spanish main; and
"Dandy," a sturdy dapple-grey Canadian roadster, that in appearance was
quite the reverse of what his name would imply. The old horse, however,
was as sound and steady as a veteran drum-major and thoroughly reliable;
and my father prized him highly, always riding him from choice and not
minding any chaff about his charger's looks.

On advancing to mount Prince, our darkey groom seemed put out about
something, I noticed; but, before I could put any question to him or ask
the reason of his being so tardy in bringing out the horses, he burst
out full of his grievance.

"I tole um so, Mass' Tom, tole um so!" he exclaimed.

"Why, what is the matter?" I inquired, rather surprised.

"Golly, matter 'nuff for dis chile," grumbled Jake.

"You savvy I tell you, Mass' Tom, I'se come back from de hill 'fore Pomp
get him cutlash to cut um guinea-grass, hey?"

"Yes, so you did, Jake," I said sympathisingly, remembering his boast
when setting out.

"I'se right den, massa!"

"Indeed?" I responded.

"Iss, Mass' Tom. Belieb me, dat lazy ole niggah not cut guinea-grass,
not do nuffin'!" said Jake indignantly, thinking and hoping that Pompey
would receive a rating.

"Oh, he caught a 'guana before the rain came on, and that prevented him
from going to cut the grass," I explained.

Jake looked astounded.

"Hey, Pomp catch him 'guana?" he asked.

"Yes," said I. "He killed it in the stable-yard, and has gone to cook
it."

This imme