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There is no need of relating the remainder of our conversation.
Next day, the evergreen mangroves, dallying like water-nymphs in the lake-like blue of the Gulf, along the shores of Trinidad, were just in front of us. The tremendous cliffs, over whose desperate edges masses of verdure were crowded, as if pushed thither by their own luxuriance, were impending on the left. The water lay twinkling in the delicious light of the sun, while far beyond rose the cloud-lost peaks of the Cumana. It was the most enchanting view I ever beheld.
Maria stood, leaning on my arm, in the middle of the deck, while her padré was bustling among the baggage which was
at hand. Rev. Mr. stood modestly a few paces off, looking unutterable things at Maria.
" I wonder,” said she, " senor, whether my father will be glad to see his daughter after her four years' absence at a convent ?"
We landed and the padré took off his charge through the fine rectangular streets of Port of Spain, to her home. The young clergyman and I separated. We were both to visit friends,
I staid upon the Island about three months. The minister and myself called together upon Maria, and found a warm welcome even from the sober old Senor, her father. Padré - looked gruff and hardly deigned to recognize us. The senor was so delighted at his re-union with his daughter, that he could not restrain the overflow of his affection from falling upon her compagnons du voyage.
Before I left, Rev. Mr. had changed his residence. He was visiting his old friend no longer, but was fairly domesticated at the plantation of Maria's father-her accepted lover. He thought that he should stay on the island and pursue the duties of his profession there. He wrung my hand most earnestly at parting, and told me to inform his friends in Yankee-land that he was happy beyond measure. He said that Maria and he agreed on nearly all the points of faith, although he despaired of making her a proselyte. I devoutly wish that my charming friend may not be corrupted by the bad company of some English clergymen on the Island, who were at that time as thorough-bred scape-graces as ever played cards for a pistole, bet on a cock-fight, or told a poor negro that Satan made black men.