fellow with filed teeth and face tattooed with his "country marks," to a friend of mine-" Barrackie fe handie bad enough; but barrackie fe footie, tooey bad, tooey bad." Town life in Kingston is strikingly sombre and unexciting. There are few amusements either public or private. Dinner parties are rare events. The little theatre on the Parade is opened, on an average, twice a year—once for the performance of a local amateur company; on the other, for that of a stray professor of legerdemain on his way home from Panama. Not long ago it was taken by an itinerant performer on the flying trapeze. But the Kingston press was so shocked by the impropriety of the wife and daughter of the unfortunate man taking part in the entertainment, that after a couple of nights' performances he was compelled to close his doors. It was half-past seven before we returned to our hotel for dinner. The fierce sea breeze-which had lasted all day, and which from its healthful effects the Creoles call "the doctor"-had died down, and the "land" breeze had not yet set in. Night had come upon us suddenly as we were driving home from camp-for in this country there is no twilight -and the stars, to use a negro idiom, were "sprinkling the sky." As in the early morning, the streets were full of people. We passed several men with little glass models of houses brilliantly illuminated on their heads, yelling out what sounded to us like "I scream!" at the pitch of their unmusical voices. They were, however, only vendors of ice creams-a luxury which, strange to say, is to be got in this burning land at no other hour of the day. Then came by a woman with a basket of roasted pindar or ground nuts (Arachis Hypoga) on her head. Of all the street cries we had heard during the day this was the only one which had either music or rhythm about it. It was a plaintive little melody in the minor key, not very appropriate to the words, it must be confessed. But it came prettily in between the strains of a rattling set of quadrilles which issued from a house on the other side of the road, and we rather regretted when she turned the corner of a neighbouring street, and her "Pindar buy, young gentlemen! Pindar buy, young ladies! was heard by us no more. III. THROUGH THE LAGOON TO SPANISH TOWN. WE had grown very tired of Kingston and its heat and its mosquitoes. We had turned veritable pieds poudreux with tramping over its dusty streets, and were sick even unto death with chaffering with tradesmen, and trying to induce them to charge only double price for everything we wanted. It was therefore with no sigh of regret that one dull grey morning, about six A.M., we found our travelling buggy at the door, and ourselves starting on our tour round the island. As we passed through the hall, on our way downstairs, we discovered the old house-cleaner on her knees, hard at work on the floors as usual. In the laziness of her spirit and the stiffness of her old joints, she was grumbling over her daily task. "My father! de floor tough dis morning!" she said, as we came up with our cloaks and umbrellas, and railway rugs over our arms. She looked when she saw our preparations for departure. "Hi, massa! you gwine away, sa?" she asked in some surprise, "and de day look quite mournful too! It mak me feel quite sad to see you gwine away, sa! Yes!" she continued, in a tone of melancholy soliloquy-" husban's an' wives mus' part; parients an' childring mus' part; how much more de bes' of friends!-Tank you, sa!" she went on, as we dropped a coin into her bony hands, "an' a safe trabel to you, massa, an' me hopes me will meet you in heaben." "Let us hope we may meet again on earth," we said, the lady looked so disconsolate. “P'raps, massa; but you young an' me old, you see. Dat mak de differench. But me do hope me may meet you in heaben. Don't you think it will be delightful to be in heaben, massa?—Noting to do, no work, no boderation, no cleaning, no noting; but always to fold me hand, and to sit down chattering with me Saviour. Yes, massa!" said the old creature, warming up into a frenzy of religious ardour. "Ef me did not know me was a sacred girl of the Lord, me heart would quail and grow soft before Massa Lord! An' to tink of de judgment!" she pursued, “when we all shall raise up out of our grabes in a lump! But me bery old, for true. Me fader Guinea man, an' me moder Creole, an' me bery old woman now! Good-bye den, sa! God bless you!" and she turned to her scrubbing and polishing again. All this time the dura ilia of our buggy were being crammed with portmanteaus and travelling-bags, guns, butterfly-nets, and all the impedimenta of the holiday traveller in England. A good friend had recommended our taking with us a supply of " tinned productions," to supply the deficiencies of country lodging-houses; and if we had acted on all the other recommendations we received, we should have carried with us, in addition to the host of unnecessary rubbish which we did take, such useful articles as a photographic camera, a mountain-barometer, a Norwegian kitchen, wading-boots, a bull's-eye lantern, a large ham, a complete set of ice-buckets, a boot-jack, and a fishing-rod. By the time everything was packed there was barely room in the buggy to stow ourselves away. How these two poor goose-necked, fiddle-headed screws-these "soldier-officer horses," as a passing negro gamin sarcastically called them, which had been spared to us on hire for the ridiculously small sum of one pound per diem-were to drag this imposing load was a mystery which we vainly strove to solve. But they started gallantly enough, and our hopes rose, as, under the constant application of the whip, and loud encouraging cries from our driver Bob, we galloped at full speed through the empty streets. And here let us introduce our faithful Bob to the reader's attention. He was a sprightly enough young negro when first he entered our service, with the features of a baboon, silky wool (for his mother was a French Creole), and a mouth of indescribable ugliness. He was exceedingly conversible, as we subsequently found to our cost, and was given to singing, although |