XAYMACA; THE ISLAND OF MANY RIVERS 393 



eastern boundary. On the land green deepened 

 to black and purple in the shadows of the moun- 

 tains, in the bay opaline hues darkened in the 

 depths of the water. 



We reached Kingston wharf at eight o'clock, 

 greeted by a noisy, demonstrative crowd, grading 

 in color from cafe au lait to ebony, and speaking 

 a gibberish all unknown to us, English though it 

 was. My letters of introduction to the governor 

 and other prominent officials saved me much 

 annoyance in getting through the customs. My 

 scientific equipment was admitted free of duty. 



No sooner had we left the ship than a line of 

 black cabbies assailed us, importunate, vociferous, 

 and as bare-faced in their demands as those of our 

 native land. Resisting all their efforts at extortion, 

 we finally made a fair bargain, and got off in a 

 two-seated trap drawn by a poor little rack-a-bones 

 of a horse. We found ourselves at once in a tropi- 

 cal town. The narrow streets were crowded with 

 shops on either side, wares of all kinds displayed 

 in heterogeneous confusion, — dried fish, heaps of 

 strange fruits, gay-colored stuffs, rum, whiskey, 

 strings of dried peppers, with an occasional es- 

 tablishment devoted exclusively to dry goods or 

 hardware. More than occasional were the exclu- 

 sive rumshops. Leaving the business streets 

 behind we came to the region of houses, — small 

 cottages built close to the street, villas behind 



