A double blue pea {74} and a purple Bignonia are scrambling over shrubs and walls.

And what is this which hangs over into the road, some fifteen feet in height--long, bare, curving sticks, carrying each at its end a flat blaze of scarlet?
What but the Poinsettia, paltry scions of which, like the Dracaena, adorn our hothouses and dinner-tables.

The street is on fire with it all the way up, now in mid-winter; while at the street end opens out a green park, fringed with noble trees all in full leaf; underneath them more pleasant little suburban villas; and behind all, again, a background of steep wooded mountain a thousand feet in height.

That is the Savannah, the public park and race-ground; such as neither London nor Paris can boast.
One may be allowed to regret that the exuberant loyalty of the citizens of Port of Spain has somewhat defaced one end at least of their Savannah; for in expectation of a visit from the Duke of Edinburgh, they erected for his reception a pile of brick, of which the best that can be said is that it holds a really large and stately ballroom, and the best that can be hoped is that the authorities will hide it as quickly as possible with a ring of Palmistes, Casuarinas, Sandboxes, and every quick-growing tree.

Meanwhile, as His Royal Highness did not come the citizens wisely thought that they might as well enjoy their new building themselves.