pt things smooth and have given no trouble to their employers at
home?

In the evening of the day of the political meeting we dined at
Government House. There was a large representative party, English,
French, Spaniards, Corsicans--ladies and gentlemen each speaking his or
her own language. There were the mayors of the two chief towns of
Trinidad--Port of Spain and San Fernando--both enthusiastic for a
constitution. The latter was my neighbour at dinner, and insisted much
on the fine qualities of the leading persons in the island and the
splendid things to be expected when responsible government should be
conceded. The training squadron had arrived from Barbadoes, and the
commodore and two or three officers were present in their uniforms.
There was interesting talk about Trinidad's troublesome neighbour,
Guzman Blanco, the President of Venezuela. It seems that Sir Walter
Raleigh's Eldorado has turned out to be a fact after all. On the higher
waters of the Orinoco actual gold mines do exist, and the discovery has
quickened into life a long unsettled dispute about boundaries between
British Guiana and the republic. Don Guzman had been encroaching, so it
was alleged, and in other ways had been offensive and impertinent. Ships
were going--had been actually ordered to La Guyra, to pull his nose for
him, and to tell him to behave himself. The time is past when we flew
our hawks at game birds. The opinion of most of the party was that Don
Guzman knew it, and that his nose would not be pulled. He would regard
our frigates as picturesque ornaments to his harbour, give the officers
in command the politest reception, evade their demands, offer good words
in plenty, and nothing else but words, and in the end would have the
benefit of our indifference.[7]

In the late evening we had music. Our host sang well, our hostess was an
accomplished artist. They had duets together, Italian and English, and
the lady then sang 'The Three Fishers,' Kingsley being looked on as the
personal property of Trinidad and as one of themselves. She sang it very
well, as well as any one could do who had no direct acquaintance with an
English sea-coast people. Her voice was beautiful, and she showed
genuine feeling. The silence when she ended was more complimentary than
the loudest applause. It was broken by a stupid member of council, who
said to me, 'Is it not strange that a poet with such a gift of words as
Mr. Kingsley should have ended that song with