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[[preprinted]] 86 [[/preprinted]] St. Vincent 25.

[[margin]] II-13-36 [[/margin]] At breakfast time this morning we watched a four-masted schooner come into the bay. Unfortunately her sails were furled and she was using her auxiliary engines. She is an American ship - called a yacht here. 

I rode up the Leeward coast through Layou, Barrouallie, and Troumaka to Chateaubelair. [[margin]][[underlined]] Photo #70 [[/underlined]][[/margin]] The road was still wet from the early morning rain and it drizzled every half hour till after lunch. Beyond Barrouallie the road is seldom travelled by cars. It is steep and narrow, and has very sharp turns. The scenery is very similar to that of Grenada, though there is more cultivation. 

[[underlined]] Station 173. [[/underlined]]
1 mile northeast of Layou Village, about 3 miles south of Barrouallie, on the Leeward Road. A large bug in the road. 

First chance to stop was just beyond Barrouallie, when I thought I was at the end of the road! It was actually that bad. 

[[underlined]] Station 174. [[/underlined]]
2 miles northeast of Barrouallie, along the Wallilabou River, about a mile above its mouth. Under stones along the stream took 11 Staphs (Paederinae-1, Aleocharinae-2 and 8).

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[[preprinted]] 87 [[/preprinted]]

Beyond Traumaka which is on a ridge, the road is very steep and rough. Had less trouble going up hill than down, however. 

In Chateaubelair I stopped at the Police Station to look at their map. It was so old and torn that I couldn't use it. The Sargeant explained that they had to keep it no matter what it's condition because it was "on inventory". He seemed quite puzzled when I told him I am a "doctor of Philosophy". I told him of my experience the other day with the drunk, and he said the fellow is notorious - named Bradshaw. He thought there was a map at the school, and as I couldn't very well get out of it, I went over to see. It turned out to be a hopeless coloured outline made by a teacher, - fourth grade, I should say).

As the "road" goes only a short distance further and the mountains were hidden in clouds, I started back, hoping to find a few more places to collect. The streams are generally rather monopolized by the washer-women. They spoil the collecting for quite a distance on each side of every bridge by kicking up all the sand bars and moving stones to make little dams.