myself wandering in a small irregular town, through streets of birch-bark and brushwood cottages, surrounded with little gardens, and the beautiful trees and vegetation of the country. Cocoa-palms and bananas grow on all hands, and on all hands might be seen, beneath them, stark-naked negro children leaping and playing about; negro women were at work, or were standing at the doors of the cottages. I found myself evidently in an African region.
“Bon jour, madame,” sounded towards me from one of the huts, and turning round, I beheld a stout and well-dressed negro woman standing at her door, who looked liked a personified invitation. I accepted it, glad to have an opportunity of talking with some of the people; and on entering the cottage, which was spacious, I found her one of the very nicest, kindest, most cheerful old negro women that one can imagine. Everything also in and about the cottage was clean and orderly, bed-room, kitchen and garden, and the old woman took me to see everything, laughing with all her might at every question which I asked, or observation which I made. She was born in St. Domingo and had been servant in a French family there before the Revolution on the island. She expressed herself very imperfectly in French; but, nevertheless, gave me a deal of information regarding the condition of the negroes in the little town. They seemed to be happy and contented; supported themselves on their small allotments of land and by their animals, as well as by doing work of various kind for the people of the city. She herself took in washing, and was well contented with her world. At the present moment she was enjoying a dolce far niente, and so also was her husband, who could not speak any other language than Spanish, and therefore did not take part in our conversation, but sate and smoked his cigar with an expression of the most cordial good-nature and content-
