who have been in the
employment of the firm all their lives perhaps. They go out at the proper
season to find and mark the trees; fell them presently and return whilst
the timber is drying; or amuse themselves in the bush, hunting and
gathering miscellaneous produce. Then they float the raft down to Belize.

These Caribs are more or less descended from the Indians of Jamaica. Early
in the last century the British Government collected the survivors of that
hapless race, and planted them out of harm's way in the Island of St.
Vincent, uninhabited at the time. They did not thrive, however, and in
1796 the Government transported them once more to the Island of Roatan, in
the Bay of Honduras.

But an extraordinary change had come over the poor creatures. We are to
suppose that when landed at St. Vincent their type was mostly if not
wholly Indian; when taken away it was to all appearance negro. Probably a
slave ship had been wrecked there, and the blacks, escaping, killed all
the male Indians, taking the women to wife; such is the theory, but there
is no record. A transformation so sudden and complete in such brief time
is striking evidence of the African vigour, for in hair, features,
complexion, and build the Carib is a negro.

But not in character. He has virtues to which neither red man nor black
lay claim--industry, honesty, truthfulness, staunch fidelity to his
engagements and readiness to combine. The mahogany cutters have a Guild,
which holds itself responsible for the failure of any member to execute
work for which he has been paid; it cannot be called a Trade Union,
because, so far as I learn, it has no other purpose--except jollification.
In brief, the Carib of Honduras is one of the best fellows on earth in his
way. He looks down on all about him, negro and Indian and 'poor white.' If
a stranger suspect him of trickery, he thinks it defence enough to
exclaim--'Um Carib man, sah!' And so it is, as a rule.

Messrs. Brown Ponder had lately taken on a new hand--let us call him Sam.
This young fellow had been wandering up and down the coast some years,
doing any honest work that turned up. Thus he had served in the boat's
crew of M. Secard, when that gentleman was collecting orchids in Guiana.
The experience had taught him that flowers have value, and he returned
from his first visit to the bush, after entering the firm's service, with
the announcement of a marvel. We may fancy the report which negro
imagination wou