A SUMMER IN THE TROPICS. 
I I 
Garden herbarium. There is one mistletoe he can see a mile off 
-—-it is Phoradendron Wattii. 
The popular belief about mistletoe is still, it seems, that it is all 
of the Christmas variety, and that it grows exclusively on the oak 
and the apple. In Jamaica there are neither oak nor apple trees, 
and the twelve species of the Loranthacese we brought back show 
many differences in form and color. Some of the species of 
Phoradendron have the waxy white berries of the European 
Vis cum album, while another of the same genus has yellow ber¬ 
ries. There is the handsome Dendropthora whose berries are 
scarlet, and a Dendropemon with green berries banded with 
orange. The flowers also vary, from the inconspicuous apetalous 
blossom of Phoradendron, to the long, tubular corolla of Oryctan- 
thus . The mistletoe—“ God-bush,” the negro calls it—does not 
select any one tree as its host, but grows equally well on the way- 
side bushes, the brush broom and the bitter broom; on the soap 
wood, the juniper, the cherimoya, or the lime. Sometimes the 
parasite grows out from the host like one of its own branches; 
again, slender stems wind about the host plant, sending out haus- 
toria at intervals which penetrate the outer bark. 
On the neighboring hills, some 2,000 feet below Cinchona, are 
several coffee “ properties.” This gave us an opportunity to see 
the coffee on the tree, both in flower and in fruit, as well as on the 
barbacue. The coffee of these mountains is considered the finest 
in the world, but nowhere else is it obtained pure, for the entire 
crop is sent to England, where it is mixed with other brands. 
One afternoon, as we were returning from a long tramp, we 
passed through one of these properties. Meeting the son of the 
owner, we were invited to stop and rest at the house, which we 
were very glad to do, as we were hot and tired. The young man’s 
mother received us most hospitably, and later, very willingly 
explained the process of drying, pulping and sorting the coffee 
berries. The entire work is done by the negroes whose huts are 
* scattered over the plantation. Our hostess said that we were the 
first white people she had seen in two months. She had lately 
sent her youngest three children to school in England, and was 
feeling very lonely in consequence. While we sat in the little 
