The camaron is a fresh water creature like a cray-fish.  It is regarded here as the world’s chiefest delicacy—­and certainly it is good.  Guards patrol the streams to prevent poaching it.  A fine of Rs.200 or 300 (they say) for poaching.  Bait is thrown in the water; the camaron goes for it; the fisher drops his loop in and works it around and about the camaron he has selected, till he gets it over its tail; then there’s a jerk or something to certify the camaron that it is his turn now; he suddenly backs away, which moves the loop still further up his person and draws it taut, and his days are ended.

Another dish, called palmiste, is like raw turnip-shavings and tastes like green almonds; is very delicate and good.  Costs the life of a palm tree 12 to 20 years old—­for it is the pith.

Another dish—­looks like greens or a tangle of fine seaweed—­is a preparation of the deadly nightshade.  Good enough.

The monkeys live in the dense forests on the flanks of the toy mountains, and they flock down nights and raid the sugar-fields.  Also on other estates they come down and destroy a sort of bean-crop—­just for fun, apparently—­tear off the pods and throw them down.

The cyclone of 1892 tore down two great blocks of stone buildings in the center of Port Louis—­the chief architectural feature-and left the uncomely and apparently frail blocks standing.  Everywhere in its track it annihilated houses, tore off roofs, destroyed trees and crops.  The men were in the towns, the women and children at home in the country getting crippled, killed, frightened to insanity; and the rain deluging them, the wind howling, the thunder crashing, the lightning glaring.  This for an hour or so.  Then a lull and sunshine; many ventured out of safe shelter; then suddenly here it came again from the opposite point and renewed and completed the devastation.  It is said the Chinese fed the sufferers for days on free rice.

Whole streets in Port Louis were laid flat—­wrecked.  During a minute and a half the wind blew 123 miles an hour; no official record made after that, when it may have reached 150.  It cut down an obelisk.  It carried an American ship into the woods after breaking the chains of two anchors.  They now use four-two forward, two astern.  Common report says it killed 1,200 in Port Louis alone, in half an hour.  Then came the lull of the central calm—­people did not know the barometer was still going down —­then suddenly all perdition broke loose again while people were rushing around seeking friends and rescuing the wounded.  The noise was comparable to nothing; there is nothing resembling it but thunder and cannon, and these are feeble in comparison.