more of my fair friend; but in this I was mistaken. The door was soon reopened, and she again seated herself on the sofa beside me.

I;

"Your heart would permit of your doing that?" said "and he with such a beautiful nose?"

'Yes; it would. I'd 'spise myself to take him now, if he was ever so beautiful. But I'se sure of this-I'll never love no oder man-never again. He did dance so genteelly."

"A Baptist dance!" I exclaimed. "Well; it wasn't de ting, was it? And I knew I'd be read out: oh, but it was so nice! I'll never have no more dancing now. I've just taken up with a class now, you know, since he's gone.”

"Taken up with a class?"

"Yes; I teaches the nigger children; and I has a card for the minister. I got four dollars last week, and you must give me something."

Now I hate Baptists-as she did her lover-like poison; and even under such pressure as this I could not bring myself to aid in their support.

"You very stingy man! Caspar Isaacs"-he was her lost lover-" gave me a dollar."

"But perhaps you gave him a kiss."

Perhaps I did," said she. "But you may be quite sure of this-quite; I'll never give him anoder," and she again slapped one hand upon the other, and compressed her lips, and gently shook her head as she made the declaration. "I'll never give him anoder kissdat's sure as fate."

I had nothing further to say, and began to feel that I ought not to detain the lady longer. We sat together, however, silent for a while, and then she arose and spoke

to me standing. "I'se in a reg'lar difficulty now, however; and it's just about that I am come to ask you." "Well, Josephine, anything that I can do to help you-"

""Taint much; only want your advice

to Kingston, you see.”

Ah, you'll find another lover there."

I'se going

"It's not for dat den, for I don't want none; but I'se going anyways, 'cause I live dere.”

"Oh, you live at Kingston?"

"Course I does.

And I'se no ways to go but just in

de droger" the West Indian coasting vessels are so called.

"Don't you like going in the droger?" I asked.

Oh, yes; I likes it well enough."

"Are you sea-sick?"

"Then what's the harm of the droger?"

66

Why, you see"-and she turned away her face and looked towards the window-"why you see, Isaacs is the captain of her, and twill be so odd like."

"You could not possibly have a better opportunity for recovering all that you have lost."

"You tink so?"

"Certainly."

"Den you know noting about it. I will never recover noting of him, never Bah! But I tell you what I'll do. I'll pay him my pound for my passage; and den it'll be a purely 'mercial transaction'

On this point I agreed with her, and then she offered me her hand with the view of bidding me farewell. "Good-bye, Josephine," I said; "perhaps you would be happier with a Christian husband."

"P'raps I would; p'raps better with none at all. But

AN EARTHQUAKE.

41

I don't tink I'll ever be happy no more. 'Tis so dull: good-bye." Were I a girl, I doubt whether I also would not sooner dance with a Jew than pray with a Baptist.

"Good-bye, Josephine." I pressed her hand, and so she went, and I neither saw nor heard more of her.

There was not about my Josephine all the pathos of Maria; nor can I tell my story as Sterne told his. But Josephine in her sorrow was I think more true to human nature than Maria. It may perhaps be possible that Sterne embellished his facts. I, at any rate, have not done that.

I had another adventure at Port Antonio. About two o'clock in the morning there was an earthquake, and we were all nearly shaken out of our beds. Some one rushed into my room, declaring that not a stone would be left standing of Port Royal. There were two distinct blows, separated by some seconds, and a loud noise was heard. I cannot say that I was frightened, as I had not time to realize the fact of the earthquake before it was all over. No harm was done, I believe, anywhere, beyond the disseverance of a little plaster from the walls.

The largest expanse of unbroken cane-fields in Jamaica is at the extreme south-east, in the parish of St. George's in the East. Here I saw a plain of about four thousand acres under canes. It looked to be prosperous; but I was told by the planter with whom I was staying that the land had lately been deluged with water; that the canes were covered with mud; and that the crops would be very short. Poor Jamaica! It seems as though all the elements are in league against her.

I was not sorry to return to Kingston from this trip, for I was tired of the saddle. In Jamaica everybody rides, but nobody seems to get much beyond a walk.

42

WESTERN SCENERY.

Now to me there is no pace on horseback so wearying as an unbroken walk. I did goad my horse into trotting, but it was clear that the animal was not used to it.

Shortly afterwards I went to the west. The distances here were longer, but the journey was made on wheels, and was not so fatiguing. Moreover, I stayed some little time with a friend in one of the distant parishes of the island. The scenery during the whole expedition was very grand. The road goes through Spanish Town, and then divides itself, one road going westward by the northern coast, and the other by that to the south. I went by the former, and began my journey by the bog or bogue walk, a road through a magnificent ravine, and then over Mount Diabolo. The devil assumes to himself all the finest scenery in all countries. Of a delicious mountain tarn he makes his punch-bowl; he loves to leap from crag to crag over the wildest ravines; he builds picturesque bridges in most impassable sites; and makes roads over mountains at gradients not to be attempted by the wildest engineer. The road over Mount Diabolo is very fine, and the view back to Kingston very grand.

From thence I went down into the parish of St. Anns, on the northern side. They all speak of St. Anns as being the most fertile district in the island. The inhabitants are addicted to grazing rather then sugarmaking, and thrive in that pursuit very well. But all Jamaica is suited for a grazing ground, and all the West Indies should be the market for their cattle.

On the northern coast there are two towns, Falmouth and Montego Bay, both of which are, at any rate in appearance, more prosperous than Kingston. I cannot say that the streets are alive with trade; but they do not appear to be so neglected, desolate, and wretched as the metropolis or the seat of government. They have jails and

PARISHES OF HANOVER AND WESTMORELAND.

43

hospitals, mayors and magistrates, and are, except in atmosphere, very like small country towns in England.

The two furthermost parishes of Jamaica are Hanover and Westmoreland, and I stayed for a short time with a gentleman who lives on the borders of the two. I certainly was never in a more lovely country. He was a sugar planter; but the canes and sugar, which, after all, are ugly and by no means savory appurtenances, were located somewhere out of sight. As far as I myself might know, from what I saw, my host's ordinary occupations were exactly those of a country gentleman in England. He fished and shot, and looked after his estate, and acted as a magistrate; and over and above this, was somewhat particular about his dinner, and the ornamentation of the land immediately round his house. I do not know that

Fate can give a man a pleasanter life. If, however, he did at unseen moments inspect his cane holes, and employ himself among the sugar hogsheads and rum puncheons, it must be acknowledged that he had a serious drawback on his happiness.

Country life in Jamaica certainly has its attractions. The day is generally begun at six o'clock, when a cup of coffee is brought in by a sable minister. I believe it is customary to take this in bed, or rather on the bed; for in Jamaica one's connection with one's bed does not amount to getting into it. One gets within the musquito net, and then plunges about with a loose sheet, which is sometimes on and sometimes off. With the cup of coffee comes a small modicum of dry toast.

After that the toilet progresses, not at a rapid pace. A tub of cold water and dilettante dressing will do something more than kill an hour, so that it is half-past seven or eight before one leaves one's room. When one first arrives in the West Indies, one hears

much of early