Dream on, Tartarin, wherever you may be! The time will come when it will all be true, and you, too, will rest under the yellow splendour of the golden trees; and the earth, the great Mother Earth, will open her heart to you and breathe upon you the spirit of limitless possibilities!
Good-bye, Manuel! The basket is heavy to carry with its spoils of fruit and flowers; and we take “turn about” across the savannah.
The races are on, and horses are dashing around the grassy turf, and the Trinidadians are yelling, the cricket games are going, and the picnic parties are gathering up their baskets for home; and the Hindoo girls clamour to carry our basket, and we gladly give over the load to a tough little head; and the merry-go-round wheezes out its squeaking tunes, and we pass through the black crowd, and narrowly escape taking a cab, for the way to the quay looks long, and we waver and weaken, and are just about to give in, when up comes a tinkling tram, and we jump in, with a penny to the Hindoo girl, and rumble away.
The man with the two monkeys, and the man with the green and blue parrot, and the boy with the shells, are still waiting.
Alackaday! Where is the woman with the baskets?
CHAPTER II.
ISLAND OF TRINIDAD. LA BREA
I.
WE were led to believe, through various accounts from former travellers, that the excursion to the Pitch Lake would be attended with considerable discomfort and some hardships.
After a run of about four hours from Port of Spain, Trinidad, we made La Brea at two o’clock in the afternoon of a blistering hot day. Fully one-third of the ship’s company were frightened off, while the rest of us made ready for the much-anticipated expedition.
It was a funny-looking company that stood at the gangway, waiting for the first boat ashore.