f the best sort, and was large, though
almost wholly white. White tablets as at Port Royal covered the walls,
with familiar English names upon them. But for the heat I could have
imagined myself at home. There were no Aaron Bangs to be seen, or Paul
Gelids, with the rough sense, the vigour, the energy, and roystering
light-heartedness of our grandfathers. The faces of the men were serious
and thoughtful, with the shadow resting on them of an uncertain future.
They are good Churchmen still, and walk on in the old paths, wherever
those paths may lead. They are old-fashioned and slow to change, and are
perhaps belated in an eddy of the great stream of progress; but they
were pleasant to see and pleasant to talk to. After service there were
the usual shakings of hands among friends outside; arrangements were
made for amusements and expeditions in which I was invited to
join--which were got up, perhaps, for my own entertainment. I was to be
taken to the sights of the neighbourhood. I was to see this; I was to
see that; above all, I must see the Peak of the Blue Mountains. The peak
itself I could see better from below, for there it stood, never moving,
between seven and eight thousand feet high. But I had had mountain
riding enough and was allowed to plead my age and infirmities. It was
arranged finally that I should be driven the next day to Castleton,
seventeen miles off over a mountain pass, to see the Botanical Gardens.

Accordingly early on the following morning we set off; two carriages
full of us; Mr. M----, a new friend lately made, but I hope long to be
preserved, on the box of his four-in-hand. The road was as good as all
roads are in Jamaica and Barbadoes, and more cannot be said in their
favour. Forest trees made a roof over our heads as we climbed to the
crest of the ridge. Thence we descended the side of a long valley, a
stream running below us which gradually grew into a river. We passed
through all varieties of cultivation. On the high ground there was a
large sugar plantation, worked by coolies, the first whom I had seen in
Jamaica. In the alluvial meadows on the river-side were tobacco fields,
cleanly and carefully kept, belonging to my Spanish friend in Kingston,
and only too rich in leaves. There were sago too, and ginger, and
tamarinds, and cocoa, and coffee, and cocoa-nut palms. On the hill-sides
were the garden farms of the blacks, which were something to see and
remember. They receive from the Governmen