The missionaries and chiefs
never think of journeying except in the saddle; and at all hours of
the day you see the latter galloping along at full speed. Like the
Sandwich Islanders, they ride like Pawnee-Loups.
For miles and miles I have travelled the Broom Road, and never wearied
of the continual change of scenery. But wherever it leads
you - whether through level woods, across grassy glens, or over hills
waving with palms - the bright blue sea on one side, and the green
mountain pinnacles on the other, are always in sight.
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE CALABOOZA BERETANEE
ABOUT a mile from the village we came to a halt.
It was a beautiful spot. A mountain stream here flowed at the foot of
a verdant slope; on one hand, it murmured along until the waters,
spreading themselves upon a beach of small, sparkling shells,
trickled into the sea; on the other was a long defile, where the eye
pursued a gleaming, sinuous thread, lost in shade and verdure.
The ground next the road was walled in by a low, rude parapet of
stones; and, upon the summit of the slope beyond, was a large, native
house, the thatch dazzling white, and in shape an oval.
