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 back to 

 Kingston, with more refreshment and cheer at the 

 house of our Port Henderson friends, the superb 

 Blue Moimtain 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 peUcans. 

 Everywhere in the bays and harbors we would 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. But 

 they usually get the fish. My son aptly described 

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

 Most water-fowl fly with head and neck stretched 

 straight out, but the peUcan draws his head back, 

 curves his neck, and seems to sit dovrai upon his 

 great hulk of a body and row himseK 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 crovnng roosters. They begin at nine o'clock 

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

 night through. When one gives the signal, you hear 

 the challenge taken up all about, the chorus swelling 

 and spreading till a wave of shrill-voiced sound 

 sweeps over the city. Then another wave, and 

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