1 86 
A GLIMPSE OF RUBBER PLANTING 
it that was in no way suggestive of typical Spanish America. It had 
no very pretentious buildings, with the exception, perhaps, of the office 
building of the United Fruit Co., but it boasted two hotels and the ‘‘Gem 
Saloon,” where all the men congregated, and besides that, almost every- 
body spoke English. 
At ten o’clock in the morning, the thermometer stood at 90° F., the 
air reeking with moisture, and the sky covered with evil looking clouds. 
Nevertheless, the streets were thronged with a most vivacious mixture 
of porters, fruit sellers, soldiers, Jamaica negroes, Chinese, and native 
Costa Ricans. At 10.30 we boarded the train that was to take us to the 
interior, and rode for twenty miles through a flat, swampy country where 
UNITED FRUIT CO.'s COMMISSARY, PORT LIMON. 
even the native Costa Rican cannot live, but where the Jamaica negro 
flourishes and waxes fat. At intervals along the railway were little 
huddles of huts built on stilts to keep them out of the black mud, roofed 
with corrugated iron or palm leaves, and full to overflowing with the 
ebony subjects of his Majesty King Edward VII. 
The heads of the families that called these shanties, homes, were 
very largely laborers on the banana plantations of the United Fruit Co., 
and when it is remembered that out of Port Limon come some seven 
million bunches a year, it is easy to appreciate how large a force of men 
is needed to cultivate, cut, and ship this great crop. It is claimed that 
there are eleven thousand Jamaica negroes on the plantations near Port 
