t at an almost nominal quit
rent an acre or two of uncleared forest. To this as the first step they
set light; at twenty different spots we saw their fires blazing. To
clear an acre they waste the timber on half a dozen or a dozen. They
plant their yams and sweet potatoes among the ashes and grow crops there
till the soil is exhausted. Then they move on to another, which they
treat with the same recklessness, leaving the first to go back to scrub.
Since the Chinaman burnt his house to roast his pig, such waste was
never seen. The male proprietors were lounging about smoking. Their
wives, as it was market day, were tramping into Kingston with their
baskets on their head. We met them literally in thousands, all merry and
light-hearted, their little ones with little baskets trudging at their
side. Of the lords of the creation we saw, perhaps, one to each hundred
women, and he would be riding on mule or donkey, pipe in mouth and
carrying nothing. He would be generally sulky too, while the ladies,
young and old, had all a civil word for us and curtsied under their
loads. Decidedly if there is to be a black constitution I would give the
votes only to the women.

We reached Castleton at last. It was in a hot damp valley, said to be a
nest of yellow fever. The gardens slightly disappointed me; my
expectations had been too much raised by Trinidad. There were lovely
flowers of course, and curious plants and trees. Every known palm is
growing there. They try hard to grow roses, and they say that they
succeed. The roses were not in flower, and I could not judge. Bye the
familiar names were all there, and others which were not familiar, the
newest importations called after the great ladies of the day. I saw one
labelled Mabel Morrison. To find the daughter of an ancient college
friend and contemporary giving name to a plant in the New World makes
one feel dreadfully old; but I expected to find, and I did not find,
some useful practical horticulture going on. They ought, for instance,
to have been trying experiments with orange trees. The orange in Jamaica
is left to nature. They plant the seeds, and leave the result to chance.
They neither bud nor graft, and go upon the hypothesis that as the seed
is, so will be the tree which comes of it. Yet even thus, so favourable
is the soil and climate that the oranges of Jamaica are prized above all
others which are sold in the American market. With skill and knowledge
and good selection they