And under them, again, the crater seethed with gray mist, among which, at one moment, we could discern portions of its lip; not smooth, like that of Vesuvius, but broken into awful peaks and chasms hundreds of feet in height.  As the sun rose, level lights of golden green streamed round the peak right and left over the downs:  but only for a while.  As the sky-clouds vanished in his blazing rays, earth-clouds rolled up below from the valleys behind; wreathed and weltered about the great black teeth of the crater; and then sinking among them, and below them, shrouded the whole cone in purple darkness for the day; while in the foreground blazed in the sunshine broad slopes of cane-field:  below them again the town, with handsome houses and old-fashioned churches and convents, dating possibly from the seventeenth century, embowered in mangoes, tamarinds, and palmistes; and along the beach a market beneath a row of trees, with canoes drawn up to be unladen, and gay dresses of every hue.  The surf whispered softly on the beach.  The cheerful murmur of voices came off the shore, and above it the tinkling of some little bell, calling good folks to early mass.  A cheery, brilliant picture as man could wish to see:  but marred by two ugly elements.  A mile away on the low northern cliff, marked with many a cross, was the lonely cholera cemetery, a remembrance of the fearful pestilence which a few years since swept away thousands of the people:  and above frowned that black giant, now asleep; but for how long?

In 1797 an eruption hurled out pumice, ashes, and sulphureous vapours.  In the great crisis of 1812, indeed, the volcano was quiet, leaving the Souffriere of St. Vincent to do the work; but since then he has shown an ugly and uncertain humour.  Smoke by day, and flame by night—­or probably that light reflected from below which is often mistaken for flame in volcanic eruptions—­have been seen again and again above the crater; and the awful earthquake of 1843 proves that his capacity for mischief is unabated.  The whole island, indeed, is somewhat unsafe; for the hapless town of Point-a-Pitre, destroyed by that earthquake, stands not on the volcanic Basse Terre, but on the edge of the marine Grande Terre, near the southern mouth of the salt-water river.  Heaven grant these good people of Guadaloupe a long respite; for they are said to deserve it, as far as human industry and enterprise goes.  They have, as well, I understand, as the gentlemen of Martinique, discovered the worth of the ‘division of labour.’  Throughout the West Indies the planter is usually not merely a sugar-grower, but a sugar-maker also.  He requires, therefore, two capitals, and two intellects likewise, one for his cane-fields, the other for his ‘ingenio,’ engine-house, or sugar-works.  But he does not gain thereby two profits.  Having two things to do, neither, usually, is done well.  The cane-farming is bad, the sugar-making