A LOST FEBRUARY 



to us strangers. The planter showed us through 

 his works from the rollers where the cane was be- 

 ing crushed and pressed to the cribs where the rum 

 was being distilled, and then invited us to his house 

 for luncheon. His men were paid mostly by piece 

 work. He said they were worth little at a stated 

 wage by the day or week. 



From Worthy Park we took our way over the 

 mountain toward Chapelton, going down the long, 

 steep, peculiar " Old Woman's Hill " into the valley 

 of the beautiful Rio Minho. We saw flocks of green 

 parrots flying across the hill, — my first sight of a 

 wild bright green bird. When we reached the ford 

 of the Rio Minho, there stood our little green heron, 

 looking very homelike to me. 



"How far is it to Chapelton ? " we asked of a col- 

 ored man. 



" Far enough, sah." 



Several miles farther on we put the question to 

 another man. 



" Not too far, sah." 



The probable distance in miles to any given place 

 we could never get from a native in Jamaica. 



Darkness came on, the team lagged, the road grew 

 hilly, and Chapelton seemed to recede before us. 

 Presently, long after dark, we saw far ahead of us, 

 in what seemed a bend in the road, brilUant lights 

 flashing out. Surely, we said, here is Chapelton, 

 and these are the lamps in the streets or in the win- 

 237 



