We came one afternoon
into the harbour of Rosalia.
Speaking of Rosalia, it's a green and pink and white town, in a
valley that opens on the sea, with mountains behind it. It's a
prettier town than Portate. In the centre is the little square or
plaza, filled with palms and roses and bushes. There's a lamp-post
near the middle and the ruins of a stone fountain. Around three sides
of the plaza are shops, where you can buy your hands' full of bread
and fruit for a cent or two; and casinos or saloons where they play
monte and fight gamecocks; and a hotel, with men asleep on the steps
of it. On the fourth side is the Palazio del Libertad, which they
commonly call it La Libertad. It contains the government and the
families of most of it. There are the offices and residences of the
President and the departmental ministers, the legislative chambers,
courtrooms, soldiers' barracks, and other things. It's the pride of
Guadaloupe and the record of its revolutions. It's been sixty years
in building, and each new government adds something to remember it
by. It has white stucco fronts, and towers, doors, inner courts, and
roofs. If you are looking for a department, you walk along the fronts
till you see a likely-looking sign that seems to refer in figures of
speech to that department.
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