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before, and had died, after throwing himself out 

 of an upper window in a fit of delirium. Un- 

 der all these circumstances, I thought it to the 

 full as prudent not to prolong my residence in 

 Spanish Town ; and accordingly, on Wednesday 

 the 18th, I resumed my journey homewards. I 

 travelled the north side of the island, which was 

 the road used by me on my return two years ago. 

 I have nothing to add to my former account of it, 

 except that there need not be better inns any- 

 where than the Wellington hotel at Rio Bueno, 

 and Judy James's at Montego Bay, which latter is 

 now, in my opinion, by far the prettiest town in 

 Jamaica. Indeed, all the inns upon this road are 

 excellent, with the solitary exception of the Black- 

 heath Tavern, which I stopped at by a mistake 

 instead of that of Montague. At this most miser- 

 able of all inns that ever entrapped an unwary 

 traveller, there was literally nothing to be pro- 

 cured for love or money : no corn for the horses ; 

 no wine without sending six miles for a bottle ; no 

 food but a miserable starved fowl, so tough that the 

 very negroes could not eat it ; and a couple of eggs, 

 one of which was addled : there was but one pair 

 of sheets in the whole house, and neither candles, 

 nor oranges, nor pepper, nor vinegar, nor bread, 

 nor even so much as sugar, white or brown. Yams 

 there were, which prevented my servants from 

 going to bed quite empty, and I contented myself 

 with the far-fetched bottle of wine and the solitary 



