of make-believe pomposity are followed up by the strangest revelations wherever the adventurer sets his foot.  Going from Cape Haytien to the citadel and “Sans-Souci” palace of Christophe, the traveler is charged “two thousand dollars” by the drunken negro guide, and “a dollar” by the sable sentry of whom he happens to ask a question.  The town of Cape Haytien he finds surrounded by the rotting bodies of dead animals; the ruins of fine old country-seats are occupied by filthy black squatters; the new houses going up are built by the process of throwing single bricks one after the other from the ground to the bricklayer.  Squalor and braggadocio he finds everywhere.  The general who has given him a permit to inspect Christophe’s stronghold sends a messenger secretly in advance with instructions reversing his order:  the commandant refuses lodgings to “the American who has come to take the fort.”  Some friends of the consul who had received a general invitation to accompany the excursion had previously backed out, because the stranger was an American, a reputed commissioner, and very unsafe company.  Mr. Hazard could only obtain permission to swing his hammock in the house of a negress; a citizen who pointed him out to the others made the signs of throat-cutting; and he left behind him the filibustering reputation of the American who came to take the citadel.  Naturally disgusted by this time, the author renounced his intention of further land-traveling, and passed in a steamer around the western end of the island to Port-au-Prince.  Here he was delighted with the entertainment of our present minister to Hayti, Mr. Bassett, a Philadelphia quadroon of uncommon qualities and collegiate education.  “Some of my most delightful hours,” says the writer, “were spent enjoying the kind hospitalities of Mr. Bassett and his lady.”  He represents the minister as living in a palace built for the emperor Soulouque, and playing a part in the revolutionary conflicts of the island similar to that of Minister Washburne in revolutionary Paris.  The brave conduct of Mr. Bassett during the brief presidency of the unhappy Salnave deserves mention.  About three thousand humble blacks, frightened by the rebellion of the “aristocracy,” fled to the protection of our flag, and the minister, though shot at in the streets and without the support of a single man-of-war, saved and fed them all.  It seems to be not much to its credit that our nation, though very tender of Hayti when the question of Dominican annexation is raised, has never reimbursed its ambassador for this drain on his private purse for the succor of Haytian lives.  With Port-au-Prince, where the writer awaited his steamer’s departure for the United States, the journey terminates.  The traveler’s evident disgust with almost every manifestation of Haytian attempts at self-government is balanced by his rapture with the natural features of the other end of the island.  He writes as an ardent annexationist—­not so much from the humanitarian view of President White