322 A DAY IN THE WOODS OF JAMAICA. 



to a speedy dissolution in those greedy gizzards. 

 Silent as death are the squalling birds, now that they 

 are on the food-tree, and if we had not seen them 

 alight, we should not suspect their existence there. 



Our steeds are wearied with the six hours' ascent, 

 and here we attain our utmost elevation. Leaving 

 them to regale themselves on the juicy bread-nut 

 leaves which faithful Sambo will pluck for them, and 

 leaving him to enjoy the siesta which he will then 

 gladly take 



" patulse recubans sub teginine fagi," 



or whatever he may consider as the proper equivalent 

 of the classic fagus, we will make our way into a sweet 

 glade, so solemn, so still, so lonely, so cool, so bowery, 

 so delightful to every sense, that you will confess it is 

 worth the half-day's ride to have visited it. 



It is a narrow ferny lane, shut in by blossoming 

 bushes, with the forest-trees growing a few yards 

 back, and screening us with their towering foliage 

 from all but a gleam or two of quivering sunlight. 

 The noble, reed-like leaves of the Indian-shot throw 

 up their scarlet spikes, and bunches of fantastic orchids 

 are drooping from almost every tree. Here is the 

 Fragrant Epidendrum, filling the atmosphere with the 

 perfume of its curious white blossoms, which are, too, 

 very pretty, the lip shaped like a deep spoon, and its 

 waxy whiteness picked out within in crimson lines. 

 See, too, that compact mass of rich violet bloom, that 

 projects from a tuft of leathery leaves low down on 

 the trunk of that small lancewood : it is the lonopsis, 



