A LOST FEBRUARY 



" calipeever," darting about or poising in the swiftly 

 running, transparent water, as large as a salmon trout. 



Then came the quiet afternoon row l)a(k to 

 Kingston, with more refreshment and cheer at the 

 house of our Port Henderson friends, the sujxrb 

 Blue Mountain scenery on the one hand, and Port 

 Royal and the open sea on the other. 



The birds in Jamaican waters that amused us 

 most were the great, ill-shaped, lubberly pelicans. 

 EveryAvhere in the bays and harbors w^e w^ould see 

 them poising and diving. From a hundred feet or 

 so above the water, they hurl themselves down reck- 

 lessly, striking the surface with a great splash. Ikit 

 they usually get the fish. My son aptly described 

 their flight as that of a bird sitting down to fly. 

 Most water-fowl fly w ith head and neck stretched 

 straight out, but the pelican draws his head back, 

 curves his neck, and seems to sit down upon his 

 great hulk of a body and row himself along with his 

 huge wings. 



Kingston we found a dull, hot, uninviting place, 

 — low houses, dirty streets, with a colored popula- 

 tion, for the most part ragged and lazy. It is a city 

 of crowing roosters. They begin at nine o'clock 

 promptly, and crow every hour, if not oftener, tlie 

 night through. When one gives the signal, you hear 

 the challenge taken up all about, tlie chorus swelling 

 and spreading till a wave of shrill-voiced sound 

 sweeps over the city. Then another wave, and 



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