34 
FLORIDA STATE HORTICULTURAL SOCIETY 
sible because, firstly, the climate of Santa 
Marta is extremely hot and the fruits ma¬ 
ture more quickly than in Florida, and 
secondly, the natives gather them before 
they are fully mature. I found, however, 
that there were some very choice seedlings 
in this region, and I selected one of the 
best and sent budwood to Washington. 
This variety we have named Fernandez, 
in honor of Sr. Fernandez, who was local 
manager of the United Fruit Company at 
the time of my visit, and who has since 
died of one of those malarial fevers which 
desolate the tropical American sea-coast. 
As to the wild avocados of Santa Mar¬ 
ta, I found that they are escapes, and of 
the West Indian race. Such a lot of in¬ 
ferior West Indian seedlings I had never 
seen! In some places the mountain-side 
was covered with the trees, which formed 
veritable forests, and the fruits lay upon 
the ground in thousands. The quality 
of these fruits is scarcely good enough, 
save in exceptional instances, to warrant 
shipping them to New York. 
From Santa Marta I went up the Mag¬ 
dalena river, and across the Andes to Bo¬ 
gota, the capital of Colombia, where I 
headquartered for several months. The 
avocados of this region proved to be in¬ 
ferior West Indians, and there was 
nothing of value to be had; so I finally 
left Bogota, after collecting some very in¬ 
teresting and remarkable blackberries, and 
a number of other things, and rode across 
the Andes to the Pacific coast, where I 
shipped for Guayaquil, Ecuador, and went 
thence by rail to Quito, a fascinating old 
Spanish city which lies high up in the 
Andes, only twelve miles from the equa¬ 
tor. Here I headquartered for eight 
months, during which time I covered the 
Andean region of Ecuador from one end 
to the other. 
While in the northern part of the coun¬ 
try, I spent a few days in the town of 
Ibarra, and here, in the market-place, I 
came across some avocados which imme¬ 
diately commanded my enthusiastic atten¬ 
tion. They appeared to be of the Mexican 
race, but were larger and finer than any 
I had ever seen in Mexico, or in Califor¬ 
nia. I was told that they came from the 
valley of the Rio Chota, half a day’s ride 
north of Ibarra. Immediately I made my 
plans to visit this valley, and I was just 
about to depart when I was unceremoni¬ 
ously grabbed by the police and whisked 
off to jail. Ordinarily I do not mind a 
thing of this sort—I had become quite 
accustomed to it in Guatemala—but just 
at this moment, when I had some new and 
remarkable avocados almost within my 
grasp, I found it decidedly annoying. 
The chief of police refused to tell me the 
nature of my crime, but informed me that 
he was familiar with my past. This, of 
course, explained my arrest; in fact, I 
often wondered that I had so long been 
allowed to remain at liberty. I argued; 
I entreated; I attempted to bluff a little, 
in a half-hearted manner, but all to no 
avail. I was to be held until orders came 
from Quito. 
Realizing that a mistake had doubtless 
been made, I telegraphed the American 
Minister, and before morning received his 
reply, which read: “Have presented your 
