ormation scene of a pantomime and thus appears artificial although
in reality, it is absolutely natural. The resemblance is still further
strengthened by the numerous ladies of the ballet who leisurely stroll
along clothed in nature's ebony black. No one seems to know the origin
of the name of the town, for the Banana palm is not found here at all.

At the extreme end of the point, and extending inwards for several
hundred yards, are the grounds of the Dutch Trading Company, which has
been established here for more than fifty years and ships many of the
products of the country. The wooden sheds painted white are very
picturesque amid the vivid green foliage. Beyond this area is the house
of Dr. Carre, the Commissaire of the District of Banana, which like all
the other houses in the town is raised on piles above the level of the
sand, for the double purpose of ensuring a current of air beneath and of
keeping it dry when the peninsula is flooded. It faces the sea and
behind is a small garden in which are many meteorological instruments.
Among these are an anemometer slowly revolving in the light air, maximum
and minimum bulbs in the shade, on the ground and beneath it, a most
ingenious sun dial, and a heliometer. Walking inland along the central
avenue, we pass some native shops, one of which bears the interesting
name of _Williams Brothers_. In many of the verandahs, native women
wrapped in highly coloured cloths but with bare feet and legs, are
working sewing machines or tending their children. Further on is a space
laid out in regular squares, in each of which is a well built wooden
house raised on piles, and an ornamental garden, the flower beds being
bordered either with sea shells or with glass bottles pushed neck
downwards into the sand, leaving about two inches projecting above the
surface. A little further on is an hotel facing the sea in which is
apparently poor accommodation and not much to eat or drink. Beyond this
is the native village, consisting of square huts and rough gardens in
which some potatoes seem to be growing in spite of the soil and
temperature.

Only about twenty Europeans live at Banana and their chief excitement is
the arrival of the steamer. Most of them indeed came off to dinner and
held a kind of concert in the saloon afterwards. All night long winches
and men were creaking, groaning, and shouting, as some of the cargo was
put overboard into two large lighters. It was not however, destined