ABOUT JAMAICA.

PART I.

I am going to give you an account of the first adventure I ever had; and, although it happened so many years ago, I remember all about it quite well. I was only six years old at the time, but it was talked of in the family for long afterwards, as you may suppose, and this prevented me from forgetting it. Then, by and by, as soon as the younger ones grew old enough to like stories, they would often beg their eldest sister to tell them the famous one of the ‘great upset.’ Since those days I have told the story many times to other children, and now I am going to repeat it once more.

I daresay you would not wish me to begin with the geography or history of Jamaica, though I hope any little boy or girl who is interested in these stories will ask their papa to tell them where it is, and how it came to belong to us long ago, and that they will try to remember all about it. I will only say that it is a most beautiful island, with splendid scenery, lovely flowers and delicious fruits growing wild, parrots flying about the woods, and humming-birds flitting among the aloe-blossoms. But then, on the other hand, it is not nearly so nice a place to live in as our dear old England, in spite of her fogs and grey skies; for in Jamaica, as well as in all our West Indian Islands, the climate is very bad, except in the high mountains: there are earthquakes and hurricanes, snakes, mosquitoes, scorpions, and quantities of poisonous berries and blossoms. Children are seldom taken or kept there after two or three years old, and they have not the free outdoor life of English boys and girls; for they are never allowed to go out except very early in the morning and late in the afternoon, on account of the hot sun, which would probably give them fever, or even kill them.

When I first remember Jamaica, we had been there only a few months. My dear mother was too delicate to live in England during the winter, and my father had been fortunate enough to obtain what was in those days an excellent Government appointment. It was the year that Slavery was abolished: I am always glad to think it was done away with before I knew anything about the country; and the negroes, as I saw them, were only a good-humoured happy race for ever laughing and singing.

The ‘we’ I have spoken of above included, besides Mamma and Papa, a young aunt of whom we children were excessively fond, an English nurse, my sister, and myself. Jessie was about four years old, the prettiest little fairy imaginable, and the idol and pet of every one. I am sorry to say I was very ugly, tall, thin, and sallow, and a regular Tom-boy, besides being the most mischievous child in the world. I did not mean to be naughty, but it seemed so dreadful to be always told to be quiet. No one ever thought of finding me any occupation, and, as I was forced to seek it for myself, spending my time in a series of scrapes, I am afraid I did not choose proper employments. Lesson hour was the happiest part of the day, but unfortunately it lasted only a short while; I used to envy the servants their regular duties, and whenever I read in little books of children being obliged to work hard for their parents, I thought it must be much happier than having nothing to do, which was my constant complaint. Our nurse could not at all understand this ceaseless activity, and often drew a mortifying contrast between me and gentle, pretty little Jessie, whom she declared was ‘a born lady,’ implying that I was just the reverse.

We remained in Spanish Town, the capital of Jamaica, where my father’s office was, until the hot weather set in, about March, and then we all got ill one after the other. Papa was looking out for a cottage in the mountains, in which to spend the summer, when a friend, who was going to England, offered us the use of his country place in the centre of the island. The climate was very cool there, but to get to it we had to climb a high range of hills, and the lowest pass by which we could cross them was so steep and dangerous that it still kept the name of ‘Monte del Diavolo,’ or ‘Devil’s Mountain,’ by which the Spaniards had christened it nearly 300 years ago. When the time came to start on our journey, the English coachman was too ill to accompany us. My father therefore drove the britschka; Joe, the black groom, was on the box next him; and inside sat Mamma, Aunt Nelly, the nurse, and Jessie and I. We had a journey of fifty miles before us, but the horses were very valuable ones, and had just arrived from England: we therefore only travelled in the early morning and the cool evening, as they could not endure the tropical sun at mid-day. These horses had an unfortunate dislike, or dread, of the negro grooms, and when we began to ascend the Monte del Diavolo on the afternoon of the second day, my father gave strict orders to Joe not to leave the coach-box on any account, but to take the reins, saying that he himself would go to their heads if necessary. You must know that the road was exceedingly steep, and so narrow that even a man on horseback could not pass a carriage. In several places a recess had been blasted by gunpowder out of the side of the mountain; a negro mounted on a mule preceded us, and blew a shell loudly, to warn any country carts that might be blocking up the way to draw aside into one of these recesses till we had passed. Child as I was at the time, I remember the grandeur of the scenery, and how I jumped about the carriage from side to side, admiring first the steep cliff rising straight up from the narrow path along which we drove, and next the precipice, which sunk away almost from beneath the horses’ feet; the tops of the tall cedar, mahogany, and cotton trees were on a level with the road, and numbers of bright-plumaged birds flitted about among their branches. At the bottom of this ravine there sparkled what looked like a thin thread of water. I immediately begged for some to drink, and Mamma was explaining to me that what I saw really was a large river, and that its great distance below us made it appear to be only a brook, when my attention was attracted by the warning notes of the shell. Whilst I listened intently, Mamma tied the strings of my cottage-bonnet securely under my chin. You will see presently why I mention this. My little bonnet was very hot and uncomfortable, being exactly like those charity-school girls now wear; but in the days I write of it was quite fashionable. The hood of the carriage was still up, though the sun was sinking below the high hills towards the west, and I thrust my restless head beyond it to see what was going on. How well I remember it all! Just at that moment a second discordant blast came from the shell; the horses pricked up their ears and slightly started, enough to send one of the hind wheels to the very edge of the steep precipice. My father encouraged them with both voice and whip, and all would probably have been right, if poor well-meaning but stupid Joe had not forgotten all his master’s cautions. He jumped off the coach-box, and was at the spirited animals’ heads in a second. At the sight of a figure dressed entirely in white with jet-black face, hands, and bare feet, the horses backed a little more, and the off hind wheel slipped over the edge of the precipice. What follows takes much longer to tell than it did to happen. The horses tried to drag the carriage up again, but in vain; every instant added to the weight. I can distinctly recollect my father’s blanched face as I saw him fling down the useless reins and whip, and spring to the horses’ heads to help Joe to drag them back by main force on to the road. We remained quite still and breathless where we sat. I remember the sensation of the carriage gradually slipping back and dragging the horses nearer the edge; their frantic struggles—I saw them dig their front hoofs, as a cat might its claws, into the bank over which their hind legs had now slipped. That was the last I saw, for we heard a sort of scream from the terrified animals, mingling with the men’s voices of encouragement to them, and I felt Mamma suddenly snatch me into her arms and fold me tight with my head buried in her breast. Then came a swift rushing through the air, which soon took away my small senses; and I never can forget my amazement, on awaking from what I thought a deep sleep, to feel a soft weight preventing me from stirring. I must have made a slight movement, for Mamma gave me a little shake and asked me if I was alive. We have often laughed at that question since, but you must remember that our wits were rather scattered after such a fall. I assured her I was very much alive and anxious to get up, if she would only move; which she accordingly did very slowly, poor darling, for she was a good deal bruised and shaken. I was on my feet in a second, and rather delighted with the novelty and excitement. Mamma and I had fallen out on the first landing, as it were, of the steep mountain-side, not very far from the top. She desired me to tell her what I could see of the others, so I rushed about in great excitement and delight, reporting my observations. In a tall cotton-tree below us I caught a glimpse of the nurse and Jessie lodged like birds in the upper branches. I announced that nurse was lying quite still, holding Jessie’s frock, but the poor little girl was kicking vigorously and crying to be taken down.

Papa I could see on the road above, with his hat and coat off, and literally tearing his hair out with his hands—the only time in my life I have ever seen any one do this. There were bonnets, shawls, books, &c. strewn all about, and I was particularly delighted to perceive a very smart embroidered parasol belonging to Aunt Nelly lying near me. I must confess to being very naughty indeed about this parasol, and I will tell you how. Mamma asked me if the carriage or horses were to be seen, but though I fancied there was something dark in the bed of the river below us, it was impossible to tell what it might be, and, selfish, naughty little girl that I was, I felt very anxious to get away from her with my prize, the parasol, which I had always been strictly forbidden to touch. I suggested, therefore, calling Papa to help Jessie and nurse out of the cotton-tree, and so escaped with the parasol tucked under my arm. Poor Papa was very glad to see me unhurt, and to hear that Mamma was also safe, and on my pointing out the cliff under which she was still lying, he prepared to go to her assistance first. Joe had been already despatched to a place where a detachment of soldiers was quartered in those days, about three miles off, with an entreaty from Papa to the commanding officer to send a cart directly to our help, and also the surgeon. The sun was now fast setting, and I thought with sorrow that my precious parasol would soon be useless, as there would be no sun from which to shelter: but I determined to avail myself of the few moments left; so I opened it and strutted up and down the road. What a ridiculous little object I must have looked!—my frock, &c. torn to ribbons, my bonnet crushed quite flat, and now hanging down my back (the doctor said afterwards its thickness had saved my head from a frightful blow, as the straw was quite cut through in one place), and my thick shock head of hair all blowing about my face: think of the contrast of this little beggar-girl’s appearance to a very smart light-coloured parasol embroidered in bright silks! I can distinctly remember my surprise at finding that my successful piece of disobedience did not make me so happy as I expected it would; on the contrary, my conscience began to prick me horribly. I seemed to hear a voice telling me quite plainly how wicked it was to take advantage of my poor aunt’s absence to do what she had forbidden; in short, I was so tormented by the clamour of these internal reproofs, that I hastily closed the parasol and put it carefully on one side, resolving to confess my naughtiness as soon as possible. I must tell you here that I went about with this burden on my mind for many days before any one would listen to my penitent acknowledgment, and then I was fully and freely forgiven, and never wished to touch the parasol again.

I have only fitful gleams of memory as to what followed. I fancy I see dear Mamma sitting on some of the carriage cushions and leaning against the rocks by the roadside. I see Jessie in Papa’s arms, choking and coughing, and I heard afterwards that in her struggles she had fallen from the branch which caught her head-foremost into the hollow of the old cotton-tree, and had been nearly smothered by a fine powder, caused by decay, with which the vast trunk was filled. Here I am going to make a little digression to explain something to you. The cotton-tree of which I have spoken is quite different from the cotton-plant which furnishes us with all our calico and our pretty cotton frocks. That cotton is the snow-white contents of a small pod about as big as an egg. First there is a bright yellow flower on the shrub (for it never grows more than eight or nine feet high), then a pod succeeds quickly to the blossom, and when this bursts the little tree looks so pretty with these tufts of cotton on it, each with some seeds inside. It grows freely in Jamaica, but is not cultivated to any great extent. Most of the cotton we use comes from India and America, and some even from the South Sea Islands. Now the cotton trees, into one of which poor Jessie fell, grow in the forests and are as big as elms or beeches, and with very thick trunks. They also bear a pod full of cotton, but it is quite useless, though exquisitely soft and fine. In the first place, it is of a light-brown colour, just like a mouse’s back, and in the next place it is quite full of little seeds the size of apple pips. Sometimes the negroes collect this silky down to stuff a pillow, but to pick out the little seeds takes so long that it is not worth much for other purposes. I hope you now understand quite clearly the difference between the cotton-tree and the cotton-plant.

We must go back to the slowly-assembling party by the roadside. Nurse was still in the tree, for, warned by Jessie’s fate, she thought it better to stay quite still till plenty of help arrived, which it did in a wonderfully short time; for long before we thought Joe could even have reached the Moneague he had returned, accompanied by every officer and soldier in the place, and a couple of carts with mattresses and pillows inside, and, best of all, some large stone bottles of water, for we were all dreadfully thirsty. How kind everybody was! I can remember a big soldier attempting to tidy me a little, and saying, ‘Why, little lady, you’ll frighten your poor Mamma to death if she sees you like this;’ and he actually contrived to make me more presentable by arranging my hair, tying my sash properly, rough, kindhearted nurse that he was. But all these were trifles compared to the great anxiety every one felt about poor Aunt Nelly’s fate. After a hurried search among the upper terraces of the steep mountain-side and along the track of broken boughs caused by the rapid descent of the carriage and horses, it was resolved that a party of soldiers, Papa, and the surgeon should go quite down to the bottom of the precipice and search for her. I do not remember how long they were away, I only know I was very unhappy; for all my first excitement had died out before the real trouble and sorrow around me. I was so frightened to see Mamma’s pale face and closed eyes. Nurse, who had been extricated from her lodging among the topmost branches of the tree, was giving her something out of a teaspoon, and whenever I came near she said, half-crossly, ‘Now go away, Miss; pray go and play with Miss Jessie:’ but Jessie and I had no heart to play; we were getting very hungry and sleepy, and thoroughly terrified at the position of affairs.

The most vivid of all my recollections of that sad afternoon is hearing a soldier say that he saw the exploring party returning, and he added, ‘The young lady is alive too, I am certain.’ I rushed off to Mamma with the news, but I suppose, as usual, I managed to tell it in the worst way, for my joy was damped by Nurse saying in great anger, ‘There, Miss, you’ve made your poor Mamma faint again; now go away, do.’ So I returned, just in time to see Aunt Nelly, who had been brought up in a shawl carried by soldiers, lying on the white dusty road, her pretty dress all torn and soiled, her dark curls dabbled in blood, the kind, smiling eyes closed, and her face as white as the handkerchief with which the doctor was preparing to make a bandage. I am told that I gave such a shriek of terror and dismay that my voice roused her from the long swoon in which they had found her; and nothing which happened yesterday is half so plain before me as her bewildered face, as she unclosed her eyes, and looked at me. To the surprise of every one, she almost immediately raised herself on her elbow—and, oh! how well I remember the deep, horrible cleft in her head which I then saw!—and, putting up the other hand to clear away the blood which was streaming over her face, said feebly, ‘My hair is getting into my eyes, I wish you would keep it away,’ and then sank back again. I think my story is getting so much too dismal that I must hasten to tell you she is alive and well at this moment, and the only lasting consequence of her terrible fall was that the hair which grew where the cut on her head had been turned quite grey. It does not matter now, for all the rest matches it, but for many years this long thick lock of silver was very conspicuous among her brown curls. Now that I have eased your minds a little, I will go back to that dreadful evening. We were packed in the carts and conveyed to the barracks, where everything was done to make us as comfortable as circumstances would admit of; but I do not remember much after my fright at the first glimpse of my dear pretty aunt with her head cut open. I have been told since that she had passed her arm inside the long strap at the side of the carriage, just as she knew we were going to have an accident, thinking to save herself from tumbling out; but when they found her at the bottom of the precipice she was lying near the dead horses, and the surgeon said he fancied the blow on her head must have been given by a kick from one of them. The carriage was broken into little pieces, so small that each bit could be carried up the hill again in a man’s hand. The poor horses were frightfully battered and cut, but fortunately they were quite dead, and so was a little pet spaniel which I have forgotten to mention, and which had been lying under the boxseat during the journey. Our own escape was so marvellous, and we were so thankful to God for preserving our lives, that I never heard a regret wasted on either horses or carriage, though I mourned in secret for a long time over the sad fate of poor beautiful Whitefoot and Firefly.

Aunt Nelly lay for many days dangerously ill, and the moment she could bear the voyage Papa sent her, Jessie, Nurse, and me back to England, where we remained till I grew up into a tall young lady of sixteen, when we returned to Jamaica and spent two very happy years there. Another time I intend to tell you all about our pets and the sort of life we led; but before I finish for the present I think I must add one great piece of naughtiness which I committed before we left Jamaica with Aunt Nelly. The curious part of the story is that I had no intention of being naughty, nor any idea that my experiment would have been better left untried.

To make you understand how the idea came into my head I must explain that I was very tall for my age, whilst Jessie was extremely short. She was always longing and wishing to be as tall as I was, and asking everybody if they did not think she was growing bigger; but still she remained a little fat dot of a thing, whilst Nurse declared that my frocks had to be let down an inch every week. I was very sorry that Jessie remained so small, and helped her to remedy the defect upon every opportunity. I had already got into trouble for abstracting a pot of pomade from Mamma’s dressing-case. I hid it under my pillow, and as soon as Nurse had taken away the light at night, slipped out of my little bed, felt my way to Jessie’s crib, and, with her full consent and approbation, rubbed her all over from her head to her feet with pink pomatum. I leave you to imagine the state of the sheets, &c. in the morning. When I was brought up for judgment and sentence before the authorities, my only defence was that I had heard Papa say, a day or two before, speaking of this wonderful pomatum, ‘Why, I believe it would make even little Dot grow.’ This was quite enough to determine me to try the effect on her. However, I was only lectured and dismissed without any punishment, but unfortunately with the idea more firmly rooted than ever in my silly little head, that it was my duty, to devise some way of helping Jessie to grow taller.

It must have been several weeks after this failure that, upon the occasion of a large garden-party in the afternoon, Jessie and I found ourselves wandering about the grounds of a friend’s house, in our best frocks, waiting for the arrival of some other children who were to play with us. We believed ourselves to be very smart indeed; and so we were for those days; but I think if you saw two little girls playing in the square now, dressed exactly as we were, you would think they looked very odd. We had on very pale pink silk petticoats, over which were muslin pelisses—I remember mine had a frill round my waist!—pink drawn silk bonnets (hats had never been heard of for little girls), very big, hot, and uncomfortable, tied tightly under our chins, muslin trousers with lace and work round our ankles, and pink silk boots! Fancy running about the grass in pink silk boots. However, Nurse pronounced that we looked very nice indeed, and I tried hard to believe her, though I had great doubts on the subject. We were particularly told by her not to go off the smooth gravelled walks (on account of these horrid boots); so we considered that we were strictly keeping within the limits of the law when we followed a narrow path which led us round rather to the back of the house, among thick shrubs. Here we stopped to examine a deep hole which had just been dug for a large plant. There was a wateringpot full up to the brim standing temptingly near it, and also a spade. I cannot recollect what led to the subject, except that hardly an hour ever passed without an allusion to it, but I remember Jessie peering into the hole and saying wistfully, ‘Oh! I wish I could grow like the plants!’ Immediately I felt a strong conviction that at last we had hit upon the only way to improve her tiny stature; so I said eagerly, ‘Well, I don’t see why you shouldn’t, if only you could be planted: but perhaps Nurse might not like the trouble of digging the hole, or of watering you afterwards.’ These were the only objections which occurred to me; and when Jessie timidly said, ‘I wonder if that hole is big enough for me?’ I immediately felt that it would be absolutely wrong to miss such an opportunity of trying an experiment, so I urged her to get in. She did not want much persuasion, but jumped down into the hole—I think I see her pretty little anxious face now, peeping out from the frightful heavy bonnet-cap of bows of ribbon and net which framed it. I asked her how she felt, and she said it was very cool to her feet; so I directly made up my mind to carry out the idea thoroughly, and assured her, as if I knew it to be a fact, that was the first symptom of growth, and I proceeded to tilt the big wateringpot with all my strength (for I could not possibly lift it), until a stream began to trickle down upon the pink silk boots. Jessie said, with a little gasp, half of fright, “It’s very cool and nice, but I’m afraid Nurse won’t like it on account of my boots;” so I comforted her by assurances that when Nurse saw how tall she had grown she would not mind it. Soon the water was all poured in, and it was too late for any hesitation about the fate of the boots, or of the lace frills of the little trousers and the skirt of her pelisse which were hopelessly splashed and muddy. We both felt quite reckless now, and I proposed to shovel in the loose earth, giving as a reason that plants required earth as well as water to make them grow. In a wonderfully short time I had really planted my poor little sister up to her shoulders, and jumped upon the earth to press it in, just as I had seen the gardener do. Jessie was wonderfully brave about it, and I encouraged her by assurances of my belief in her being a little taller already. However, it promised to be rather a long process, and I felt too restless to wait and watch; so, entreating Jessie not to be afraid, but to be patient and quiet, I gave her a kiss and went away. No sooner had I lost sight of my victim than all my courage vanished, and my troublesome conscience began upbraiding me. I was in such a dreadful mess myself that I did not dare to go near the front of the house, but spent a dismal afternoon hiding behind the shrubs, afraid to go back to where Jessie was planted. At last Nurse swooped down upon me, terrible in her wrath, speechless with horror. Even my tongue was dumb when I saw poor pale little Jessie, who had been discovered, and with some difficulty dug up. I remember feeling bitterly convinced that she had not grown in the least; she appeared to be weeping tears of mud, for my gardening had splashed her face a good deal with earth, and her fast-falling tears melted it all. She was crying for the punishment which she knew would overtake me, much more than for her own misery and discomfort, and I certainly would have cried for myself if I could have foreseen that for three long days and nights I was to be locked up in a spare dressing-room. Nurse came twice a day with a large piece of bread and a jug of water, but her countenance was too awful for me to dare to speak to her. I was quite as miserable as I deserved to be, and the only ray of comfort I had was when Jessie managed to escape and rush to my door, flinging herself down in a perfect agony of grief outside it. We never had time for more than a word or two before she was recaptured and carried off; but I heard with additional sorrow that she was not supposed to be a bit taller, though she had been planted for three hours when she was discovered and released.

PART II.

I have no more pieces of naughtiness to relate, for at the time this story begins ten years had passed, and I had returned to Jamaica a tall young lady of sixteen. Jessie was, as you may remember, nearly two years younger; she had certainly grown taller, but was still only a little creature, with large dark eyes, which had a most beseeching look in them, as if she was asking everybody to take care of her. I have never seen anyone with such beautiful hair: it was dark brown, and in such quantity, that when she was sitting on an ordinary chair to have it brushed, it touched the ground. She was always singing, just like a bird; and it used to be a great puzzle to me how she could possibly remember the words of all her songs. Jessie and I had one very decided taste in common, and that was our great love of pets of all kinds, especially of birds. Whilst we lived in England we never could sufficiently indulge this hobby, for the schoolroom maid rebelled against taking care of more than one cage of canaries, so we were obliged to be satisfied with that; but when we returned to our beautiful summer home in the mountains of Jamaica, we collected a little zoological garden around us in a few months, and it is about these pets I am now going to tell you.

I am sure you will like me to begin, as always, at the very beginning, so I shall first mention that, as soon as we were all settled in our mountain cottage, Jessie and I begged Mamma to allow our rooms to be changed to the only two which were downstairs. In hot countries the sleeping rooms are always upstairs, partly to be cooler, and partly to avoid the risk of venomous insects; but there was no danger of heat where our little summer home was built, for the nights were always cold enough to allow us to use a blanket; and as for the scorpions, centipedes, ants, &c., we thought we could protect ourselves against them. We had discovered two charming little rooms side by side, downstairs, opening with French windows on a verandah, the pillars of which were covered with beautiful creepers: from this verandah you stepped on a lawn sheltered from the sun by a grove of orange and mango trees, towards the south-east, and beyond that lay the garden, which sloped down to a long valley, divided into paddocks of the tall, bright green Guinea grass (so called because the seed was brought from Guinea, on the coast of Africa), of which the cows and horses were so fond.

The chief reason Jessie and I begged for these rooms was, that the verandah and the adjoining trees would be so nice for all our pets, and after some hesitation and a great many warnings, against snakes, scorpions, and other insects, Mamma at last consented to allow us to change; so for a few days we were happy, and busy moving all our absurd little possessions down to their new quarters, which had hitherto only been used by gentlemen visitors, and were generally called the ‘Bachelor rooms.’ It took us some time to arrange our pictures, books, and ornaments to our own satisfaction; and dear Mamma was often called upon to give her opinion on our devices.

But the very first thing to be attended to was the comfort of the pets, and they certainly must have approved of the change. The parrots at once established themselves in a large tree, and we watched them with great delight clambering about its branches, nibbling at the fruit, and chattering incessantly. They were nine in number, and had been brought to us at different times in the nest some months before, when their beaks were quite soft, and we had to feed them on boiled rice and sugar. Nothing could be tamer than these birds were; when we sat down in our rocking chairs in the verandah, they used to scramble and flutter out of their tree, and come waddling towards us in a great hurry with their toes turned in, clambering up the arms of the chairs in the hope of getting a piece of sugar cane. I am sorry to say, however, that not one of our parrots could speak at all well; they whistled and chattered incessantly in their own way, but it was very difficult to teach them even a word or two, and their voices were thick and husky. It required a great many lessons before the cleverest of them could learn so much as a bar of one of Jessie’s songs; and when he began to practise, all the other birds had a most insulting way of stopping their own chatter to listen to his ‘tra-la-la,’ and going off into peals of laughter, mingled with the negro exclamations of ‘Hi hi,’ or ‘My king!’ This conduct affronted Master Bully—that was his name, bestowed on account of his tyrannical and greedy nature—very much, and he always ceased the song directly the laughter began, and sat sulkily ruffling up his feathers. They were all of the same kind, these parrots; rather small, of a blight emerald-green colour, with a few red and blue wing feathers, and a gay yellow top-knot; their beaks were quite black, and so were their tongues. Their wings were cut to keep them from joining the flocks of wild parrots which constantly flew overhead. Their greatest enemies were the owls, who used to swoop upon the poor sleeping Polly and carry it off at night; we lost two in this way before we discovered the cause, but then we taught them to go to roost every evening in a large wooden cage under shelter of the verandah, the door of which was securely fastened, and our noisy pets lived to a good old age. It is the custom in Jamaica to have a cup of coffee brought to your bedside every morning at six o’clock, and as soon as our black maid ‘Rosetta’ had awakened us, she used to open the French windows into the verandah, unfasten the door of the parrots’ cage, and place a saucer of bread and milk on the threshold where we could see it. In a moment all the parrots were round it chattering and gobbling it up; Bully had a bad habit of getting into the saucer and trampling the food into a mess, so Jessie and I were obliged to take it by turns to get up and drive him away and see fair play. As soon as they had finished their breakfast, they set off as fast as they could waddle to an enormous shallow pan of water, which was sunk to the level of the ground and filled twice a day with fresh water. It was such fun to watch them splashing and dashing the water over each other, enjoying their bath thoroughly; then they betook themselves to the shelter of the trees, and there dried and pruned their feathers, spending the remainder of their time in eating fruit and clambering about. In the middle of the day they generally took a nap, and the quiet which reigned during that time was most remarkable.

We had also a cage full of love-birds, a sort of paroquet which comes from Carthagena in South America; but though these pretty little things were very affectionate to each other and to us, I must confess they were rather stupid pets. They sat close together in pairs all day long, occasionally uttering a little chirrup and caressing each other with their tiny bills; but they either had very delicate constitutions, or else they were very greedy, for they all died one after another from fits caused by over-eating themselves and swallowing their food in a hurry. One love-bird of a stronger digestion than the rest survived some months, but he also had a daily fit in the middle of his dinner. I was so accustomed at last to this performance, that it was quite a surprise to me one day to observe him lying by the side of his little saucer longer than usual, and to find on a closer examination that he had shared the fate of his brothers and sisters.

Jessie’s especial favourites among our birds were her own white doves, and certainly they were lovely creatures, so soft and snowy, perfectly tame, and never so happy as when nestling close to their beloved little mistress. I have often thought since what a pretty picture might have been made of Jessie, in her white dress, seated on the marble step of the verandah, its arch festooned with creepers forming a frame for her figure, her dark hair twisted into a thick coronet round her head, with generally a wild flower stuck into it, her guitar with its broad riband lying on her knee, and these white doves on her shoulder, listening apparently with great attention to her sweet voice crooning some quaint old ballad for the delight of the younger children who were seated on the grass at her feet. These doves met, however, with a most tragical fate, and I must tell you all about it.

Jessie always took their bamboo cage into her own room at dusk for greater security; and one night, just after we had all separated to go to bed, I was very much frightened at my poor little sister suddenly bursting into my room as pale as a ghost, and perfectly speechless with terror; she looked so horrified that my alarm was quite as great as hers, though I did not know what was the matter. She really could not speak, though she tried to do so, but seized my arm and dragged me towards her room, which, as I have told you, was next to mine, but with no door between. At first I thought Jessie must have gone suddenly mad, for everything there looked just as usual, and I could not see any cause for all this agitation. She did not, however, let my arm go, but pulled me towards a recess where the doves’ cage stood on a low table. There, indeed, I saw a horrible sight; a huge yellow snake, with loathsome black spots all over it, had forced its way in through the slender, elastic bamboo bars of the cage, and lay coiled up at the bottom, with its flat head raised, its forked tongue sticking out, and its small cruel eyes fixed on the only surviving dove. It had already swallowed one, and the end of the survivor was very near. Poor little ‘Selim’ was on the lowest perch swaying backwards and forwards, gazing at the snake; at last he sank slowly down, just as if he had fainted, and in an instant had almost disappeared among the coils of the horrid snake’s body. I never saw anything so rapid as the way the reptile crushed the dear little helpless dove the moment it dropped within its reach. Jessie gave such a shriek that I feared the snake would be roused and perhaps escape, but he was too intent on his supper to mind us, so I took courage, and proposed to go for our old Portuguese butler, who I thought would know what to do. Jessie still clung to me, sobbing, and we found the old man’s room, roused him up, and whilst he was dressing we remembered our schoolboy brother, who would be certain to enjoy a scrimmage at any hour of the day or night, and, in answer to our knocks at his door, he soon appeared, as quickly dressed as if he had gone to bed with half his clothes on!

When we returned with this reinforcement to Jessie’s room, the dove was dead, but the snake had not yet quite swallowed it; and here I must tell you how curiously it had prepared the poor little plump bird to go down its narrow throat. Those dreadful squeezes among its coils had broken all the dove’s bones, and the snake had carefully licked its feathers the reverse way, so that instead of being a fat snowy ball, it was of a great length, and so drawn out that it was quite thin; the snake was leisurely proceeding to swallow it, and we could see by the bulges exactly where the other dove was in its horrid body. The old butler first cut off the bamboos which formed a sort of dome to the cage, and then he and Harry prepared to kill the half-gorged snake, but, before they struck the first blow, Jessie and I went into my room, as we could not bear to see it.

In a few moments Harry triumphantly announced that it was all over, but he seemed rather disappointed at the snake not showing any fight. It was not venomous: none of the large snakes in Jamaica are so, being only dangerous to the poultry-yard, and particularly fond of newly-hatched ducks and chickens or even a baby-turkey. There is a very small snake, only two feet long, called the ‘whip snake,’ from its resemblance to the lash of a driving whip, which is said to give a poisonous bite, and is apt to make its way into cellars, as it is fond of a cold, damp place. I never heard, however, of any one being bitten even by this reptile.

I killed a very large snake once all by myself; and, though it was quite by accident, I felt as proud as if I had performed a great feat of strength or valour. I was dressed for riding, and had my whip in my hand, but being very thirsty I went into the bath-room to see if the water in the great earthenware Spanish jars was any cooler than that in my bedroom. The walls of this bath-room were made of jalousies, which could be left open all night, so as to allow the cool air from the mountains to get in and make the water in the big cedar tubs fresh and nice for our morning bath. Whilst I was drinking some deliciously cold water very slowly and with great enjoyment, a large snake suddenly thrust its head through the open jalousies, and began greedily drinking out of the very jar from which I had just taken a tumblerful of water. It was so thirsty it did not perceive me at first, but in a moment it raised its head and hissed at me. I thought this so impertinent that, without thinking I should hurt it in the least, I gave it a smart tap with my little riding whip. The snake shrank back, and I heard a heavy fall on the grass outside. Of course I immediately looked out of the window to see where it was going, but to my surprise it lay quite still, so I called Harry to back me up in case of danger, and we went to examine it nearer. It was actually quite dead. Harry was as much astonished as I was at my little blow having had such an effect, and he immediately proceeded to measure my victim, triumphantly proclaiming it to be over six feet long.

We used often to find the skins of these snakes in old stone walls, for they shed them every year, and the roughness of the stones helps the snake to pull its skin neatly off its head, turning it inside out like a glove. We generally found them quite perfect and unbroken: in this state they were very pretty, pure white, the little scales glistening in the light with all the colours of the rainbow, just as if they were made of the thinnest fibre of mother-of-pearl, and even the places where the snake’s eyes had been were perfect little circles.

But now I must come back to the pets. The tortoises were very quiet, but not very amusing protégés; they lived in a little pond with some rock work in the middle for shelter from the sun. They were no bigger than half-crowns when we first got them, and they grew very slowly. We used to feed them twice a day with raw meat cut up into very fine pieces; at our whistle the tortoises would leave the shelter of their rocks and come paddling slowly towards us, looking out carefully for danger. If anything alarmed them they would draw in their queer little heads, tuck up their fins, or rather feet, and sink down to the bottom of the pond; but we generally took care not to frighten them, and they would eat their dinners very leisurely off the point of a pin. They all disappeared in time; and as we never could find any trace of their bodies, we fancied they must have contrived to escape and make their way to some of the very large reservoirs which were in the paddocks for the cows and horses to drink from, as there was no river near.

Then we had owls and hawks, and once we had a beautiful pair of Egrets given to us. We did not know what these birds were at first, as no one had ever seen any like them, and it was only by hunting through the picture-books about birds that we discovered their likeness under that name. They were flying overhead when some tiresome person, who happened to have a gun in his hand, shot at them, wounding the female, who fluttered to the ground, and her mate would not desert her, and was easily captured. They were exquisitely beautiful, though with fierce wild natures. Their legs were bright red and rather long, but their plumage was very peculiar—milk-white, and the feathers which composed their tails and their large crests or topknots were fluffy, like marabout, or the down of the eider duck. We fed them on raw meat at the risk of having our eyes pecked out, and our fingers were soon covered with wounds, but we bravely persevered, and tried all the surgical art we possessed to heal the poor broken wing of the female but she only lingered a few days, and then died in great pain, I fear. Her mate became still more fierce and untameable, and we were afraid to let him out of his large cage lest he should share his wife’s fate. He ate well and seemed healthy, but very restless and miserable, and we could only keep him alive for three or four months.

I must tell you how we came by our most favorite owl. One of the spare rooms had a large open hearth in it which was generally covered up by a board, and against this was placed a chest of drawers, as the fireplace was neither ornamental nor useful, for it was never cold enough to make a fire really necessary, even on the high table-land in the middle of Jamaica, where we spent our summers. However, after a week of heavy rain, Jessie and I took it into our heads that we should like to have a fire in this particular room. I really believe our only reason was a wish to see a blaze again, it was so long since we had enjoyed one; and as some visitors were coming in a few days, we pretended to be very anxious lest the room might have got damp during the late rains. Nothing was easier than to have some sweet-scented chips brought and some great dry logs of cedar, which made a delicious perfume; and Jessie and I rejoiced in a splendid fire, though we were obliged to have all the windows open on account of the heat, and the fire was never replenished. We soon left the room, and one of the housemaids, who looked in on passing, thought the fire was quite out, as she could only see a heap of white feathery ashes, so she carefully replaced the board and moved the chest of drawers back again to its place against it. In a short time the house was filled with the most unpleasant odour; we all began hunting about for the cause; and although we tracked the smell to this spare room, it never occurred to us to have the board removed again until Mamma appeared on the scene and immediately had it taken away. I don’t know which was the worst, the sight or the smell. The great draught caused by putting up the board must have carried some of the light ashes which were not quite extinguished up to the top of the chimney, where a whole colony of owls had built their nests for years past. The twigs and straw were soon ablaze, and as the bottom of the nests gave way, the young owls came tumbling down the chimney to meet a lingering death on the hot bricks of the hearth. There were owls in every stage of roasting; some quite dead, and others struggling among the hot ashes. They were more hideous to look at than you can imagine, for, at its best, a young owl is a frightful looking object, with its awkward unwieldy body, quite bare of feathers, with patches of down on it; and then its wide face and great goggle eyes blinking and staring at you. Whilst we were in our first moment of horror and disgust, another victim fluttered and fell down the wide chimney, but before it could reach the hot hearth Harry had rushed forward and seized it, so it was quite uninjured, and Jessie and I immediately took possession of the ugly little creature, making a great pet of it, and rearing it most successfully. As soon as it came to years, or rather weeks, of discretion we gave it its liberty, but ‘Moses’ always retained a grateful recollection of our care; and if we called him at night when we saw other owls flitting about, he was sure to come to us and allow himself to be stroked and petted as of old. I used to like to bury my face in the soft feathers at the top of his head, and ‘Moses’ would perch quietly on my finger whilst I did this, only his claws became very long and sharp, and as he held on very tight by them to my hand whilst I was petting him, I soon got tired of having wounds all over my fingers.

We had also a cage full of ‘Cardinals,’ most beautiful birds with bright scarlet feathers. In fact, they were scarlet all over, their legs and even their eyes included. They were very healthy and apparently very happy in a sort of hut at one end of the verandah, with plenty of room to fly about, and, above all, a constant supply of water for their incessant baths; whenever they wanted something to do they took a bath! These birds do not belong to Jamaica, but are brought from South America, and so were our beautiful ‘Tropioles.’ Never have I heard such a clear sweet note as these last-named beauties possessed; it had all the gladness of the skylark’s, as well as the sweetness of the blackbird’s. They were our only musical pets, and their song awakened us at daylight. They seemed very happy, and were quite tame, eating fruit out of our hands. Their plumage was magnificent, rich glossy black, and the most brilliant orange-coloured markings. Such bright fearless birds they were, about as large as a thrush, but of a much more graceful shape.

The last pet birds of which I am going to tell you were not at all successful. Outside our window grew a tree called the ‘sandbox;’ its foliage is something like a horse-chestnut, and it bears a pod of a round shape, made up of the most symmetrical divisions like the quarters of an orange; when this pod is ripe it goes off like a small pistol, and scatters the seeds all about. In spite of this disagreeable habit of exploding suddenly, the tree is very popular on account of its deep shade, and on one of its lowest boughs Jessie and I watched a beautiful pair of ruby humming-birds build their tiny nest. They made it of tufts of cotton and an occasional horsehair to keep it all together, lining it with down from their own shining breasts. Presently, during the morning absence of the hen, we discerned two eggs, exactly like little white sugar-plums, and for some weeks we never wearied of seeing the cock flitting backwards and forwards with a drop of honey in his long slender beak, for his mate’s refreshment. He did not alight whilst he fed her, but would flit like a winged jewel towards the nest, and just hover over her for a second; we could see the dear patient little hen raise her bill, which he touched; then with a little cry he would dart off again into the brilliant sunshine. I cannot find words to tell you how beautiful the sight was; one felt as if it was fairy land, for such exquisite and tiny creatures did not seem to belong to this great big rough world of ours. Presently, after nearly three weeks of watching, we saw the hen also very busy carrying honey, and then by gently moving a sheltering leaf we peeped in to see two little birds, each no bigger than a bee. Can you fancy a bee with a beak? for that was exactly what they were like. We asked the opinion of several people as to whether it would be cruel to take the nest as soon as the young ones grew a little bigger, and at last we very carefully cut the twig it rested on, and transferred the branch to a cage, which we hung outside our window, under an awning. The parent birds saw it directly, and flew in and out of the open door, feeding their young ones just as regularly, till their feathers came and they looked quite full grown. The papa and mamma now deserted them, and Jessie and I shut the cage door and tried to induce them to feed themselves with honey out of the same flowers from which we had seen their parents bring them their incessant meals; but no, they were either too lazy, or too stupid. We then endeavoured to feed them ourselves with honey, or with sugar and water, but we saw in a very few days that it would only end in their death. They drooped and lost the burnished look of their plumage, so we very reluctantly opened the cage door, and after a few preliminary flutters our lovely little captives darted away into the free air. We watched them hovering over a bough of honey-bearing blossoms, and feeding themselves quite cleverly, and then they were off like a glancing sunbeam, and we never saw them again!