is a sleep under a south
wall in the blazing sun; and there are plenty of south walls in Port
of Spain. In the French islands, I am told, such Lazzaroni are
caught up and set to Government work, as 'strong rogues and
masterless men,' after the ancient English fashion. But is such a
course fair? If a poor man neither steals, begs, nor rebels (and
these people do not do the two latter), has he not as much right to
be idle as a rich man? To say that neither has a right to be idle
is, of course, sheer socialism, and a heresy not to be tolerated.

Next, the stranger will remark, here as at Grenada, that every one
he passes looks strong, healthy, and well-fed. One meets few or
none of those figures and faces, small, scrofulous, squinny, and
haggard, which disgrace the so-called civilisation of a British
city. Nowhere in Port of Spain will you see such human beings as in
certain streets of London, Liverpool, or Glasgow. Every one,
plainly, can live and thrive if they choose; and very pleasant it is
to know that.

The road leads on past the Custom-house; and past, I am sorry to
say, evil smells, which are too common still in Port of Spain,
though fresh water is laid on from the mountains. I have no wish to
complain, especially on first landing, of these kind and hospitable
citizens. But as long as Port of Spain--the suburbs especially--
smells as it does after sundown every evening, so long will an
occasional outbreak of cholera or yellow fever hint that there are
laws of cleanliness and decency which are both able and ready to
avenge themselves. You cross the pretty 'Marine Square,' with its
fountain and flowering trees, and beyond them on the right the Roman
Catholic Cathedral, a stately building, with Palmistes standing as
tall sentries round; soon you go up a straight street, with a
glimpse of a large English church, which must have been still more
handsome than now before its tall steeple was shaken down by an
earthquake. The then authorities, I have been told, applied to the
Colonial Office for money to rebuild it: but the request was
refused; on the ground, it may be presumed, that whatever ills
Downing Street might have inflicted on the West Indies, it had not,
as yet, gone so far as to play the part of Poseidon Ennosigaeus.

Next comes a glimpse, too, of large--even too large--Government
buildings, brick-built, pretentious, without beauty of form. But,
however ugly in