Port-au-Prince, on my first arrival in 1863, was governed by a municipality, over which presided a very honest man, a Monsieur Rivière, one of those Protestants to whom I have referred in my chapter on religion. As a new arrival, I thought the town sufficiently neglected, but I had reason to change my opinion. It was a pattern of cleanliness to what it subsequently became. The municipality, when one exists, has for its principal duties the performance or neglect of the registration of all acts relating to the “état civil,” and to divide among its members and friends, for work never carried out, whatever funds they can collect from the city. At the back of the capital, at a distance of about five miles, was the village of La Coupe, the summer residence of the wealthier families. As it was situated about 1200 feet above the level of the sea and was open to every breeze, it afforded a delightful change from the hot, damp town; but during the civil war of 1868 the best houses were destroyed and never reconstructed. There is a natural bath there, the most picturesque feature of the place; it is situated under lofty trees, that cast a deep shade over the spot, and during the hottest day it is charmingly cool. Cap Haïtien is the most picturesque town in Hayti; it is beautifully situated on a most commodious harbour. As you enter it, passing Fort Picolet, you are struck by its safe position--a narrow entrance so easily defended. My first visit was in H.M.S. “Galatea,” Captain Macguire; and as we expected that we might very possibly be received by the fire of all the batteries, our own crew were at their guns, keeping them steadily trained on Fort Picolet, whose artillery was distant about a couple of hundred yards. Having slowly steamed past forts and sunken batteries, we found ourselves in front of the town, with its ruins overgrown with creepers, and in the background the rich vegetation sweeping gracefully up to the summit of the beautiful hill which overshadows Cap Haïtien. Cap Haïtien never recovered from the effects of the fearful earthquake of 1842, when several thousands of its inhabitants perished. To this day they talk of that awful event, and never forget to relate how the country-people rushed in to plunder the place, and how none lent a helping-hand to aid their half-buried countrymen. Captain Macguire and myself used to wander about the ruins, and we could not but feel how little energy remained in a people who could leave their property in such a state. It was perhaps cheaper to build a trumpery house elsewhere.