to the shore, where, after some little difficulty, we succeeded in
effecting a landing. Our feet immediately sank into the hot black
sand, composed entirely of volcanic deposits and small pieces, or
rather grains, of amber, through which we had a fatiguing walk until
we reached some palm-trees, shading a little pool of water. Here we
left some of the men, with instructions to fill the breakers they had
brought with them, while we walked on along the beach, past the
remains of an English schooner that caught fire not far from this
island, and was run ashore by her captain, thirty years ago. Her iron
anchor, chain, and wheel still remained, together with two queer
little iron cannon, which I should have much liked to carry off as a
memorial of our visit. We then turned up a narrow shadeless path,
bordered by stone walls, leading away from the sea, past a sugar-mill
and a ruin. A few almond, castor-oil, and fig trees were growing
amongst the sugar-canes, and as we mounted the hill we could see some
thirty round straw huts, like beehives, on the sandy slopes beside the
little stream. An abrupt turn in the mountains, amid which, at a
distance of three leagues, this tiny river takes its rise, hides it
from the sea, so that the narrow valley which it fertilises looks like
a small oasis in the desert of rocks and sand.

Mr. Martinez's house, where we sat for some time, and beneath the
windows of which the one stream of the island runs, was comparatively
cool. Outside, the negro washerwomen were busy washing clothes in large
turtle-shell tubs, assisted, or hindered, by the 'washerwoman-bird,'
a kind of white crane, who appeared quite tame, playing about just
like a kitten, pecking at the clothes or the women's feet, and
then running away and hiding behind a tree. The stream was full of
water-cresses, while the burnt-up little garden contained an abundance
of beautiful flowers. There were scarlet and yellow mimosas, of many