Why, in an island producing both oranges and sugar, ship them
separately to Europe to be made into marmalade, instead of
manufacturing it on the spot? The invariable answer to these queries
was "lack of capital"; no one seemed to guess that lack of enterprise
might be a contributory cause as well.

I have alluded to the vampire bat of Trinidad. Six weeks before my
arrival there, the Governor's aide-de-camp had most imprudently slept
without lowering his mosquito curtains. He awoke to find himself
drenched in blood, for a vampire bat had opened a vein, drunk his
fill, and then flown off leaving the wound open. The doctor had to
apply the actual cautery to stop the bleeding, and six weeks
afterwards the unfortunate aide-de-camp was still as white as a sheet
of paper from loss of blood. At Government House, Port-of-Spain, there
is a very lofty entrance-hall, bright with electric light. The
vampires constantly flew in here, to become helpless at once in the
glare of light, when they could be easily killed with a stick. The
vampire is a small, sooty-black bat with a perfectly diabolical little
face. An ordinary mosquito net is quite sufficient protection against
them, or, to persons who do not mind a light in their room, a lamp
burning all night is an absolute safeguard against their attacks.
Every stable in Trinidad has a lighted lamp burning all night in it,
and those who can afford them, drop wire-gauze curtains over their
horses' stalls as a protection against vampires.

The Trinidad negro being naturally an indolent creature, all the
boatmen and cab-drivers in Port-of-Spain are Barbadians. As we know,
the Badians have an inordinate opinion of themselves and of their
island. Whilst I was in Trinidad, General Baden-Powell came there in
the course of his world-tour inspection of Boy Scouts. On the day of