CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE FRENCH PRIESTS PAY THEIR RESPECTS A DAY or two after the events just related, we were lounging in the Calabooza Beretanee, when we were honoured by a visit from three of the French Priests; and as about the only notice ever taken of us by the English missionaries was their leaving their cards for us, in the shape of a package of tracts, we could not help thinking that the Frenchmen, in making a personal call, were at least much better bred.
By this time they had settled themselves down quite near our habitation.

A pleasant little stroll down the Broom Road, and a rustic cross peeped through the trees; and soon you came to as charming a place as one would wish to see: a soft knoll, planted with old breadfruit trees; in front, a savannah, sloping to a grove of palms, and, between these, glimpses of blue, sunny waves.
On the summit of the knoll was a rude chapel, of bamboos; quite small, and surmounted by the cross.

Between the canes, at nightfall, the natives stole peeps at a small portable altar; a crucifix to correspond, and gilded candlesticks and censers.

Their curiosity carried them no further; nothing could induce them to worship there.
Such queer ideas as they entertained of the hated strangers.

Masses and chants were nothing more than evil spells.