If I have not mentioned all the names of the places in Jamaica dear to the hearts of tourists, and of towns which are the pride and glory of Jamaicans, it is because I do not think such a catalogue would be of general interest. The description of Kingston may stand as a description of Jamaican cities; Port Antonio, Montego Bay, Spanish Town and the rest differ from Kingston in a less degree than Fleet Street differs from the Strand. It would be wearisome to attempt to give a chapter to each.

Port Antonio is the northerly port and the centre of the island’s trade with America; Montego Bay is a thriving commercial centre; Spanish Town is the ancient seat of Government. At one time Spanish Town was the island’s capital, and there we find a fine monument erected to commemorate the victory of Rodney over the French fleet under de Grasse, and the old cathedral. The cathedral is the oldest building in the island. It links the Jamaica of to-day with the Jamaica of four centuries ago, since it was built by the original conquerors in 1523. In the West Indies only the cathedrals of Carthagena and Havana can equal it in point of antiquity. After much renovation and reconstruction the structure now stands as the centre of the Anglican Church in Jamaica. Its floor is paved with gravestones and memorial tablets, on which are carved the names of many of those who played a large part in the island’s history. Monuments bearing the names of the Earl and Countess of Effingham, Sir Basil Keith, General Selwyn, and the Countess of Elgin, may be seen. And on an ancient grave bearing a date early in the seventeenth century we read:

In the body of the building one can read the epitaphs of many of the officers sent by Cromwell to conquer the island. The altar-plate and vessels are most ancient and valuable, particularly so are a fine flagon and chalice which were brought to the cathedral from the plunder of San Domingo in 1685. In proper cathedral fashion the war-stained flags of the West India Regiment are hung in the chancel, and the verger will tell you that the coloured regiment brought them to this house of prayer when they returned from Ashantee.

Near Montego Bay there is another romantic building; though only a private house, it stands as one of the landmarks of the island. Rose Hall, a fine old West Indian mansion, rich in carvings and ancient woodwork, remains as a monument of the Jamaica of

the days of the millionaire planter. Rose Hall is typical of what the majority of the old West Indian mansions were before the island fell into the clutches of poverty. It is a house with a history. One, Mrs. Rose Palmer, lived there in the days of old, and it is recorded that there she poisoned three husbands in rapid succession. If tradition does not err, this lady must have been of curiously abandoned habits. Under her rÉgime Rose Hall and the surrounding plantations became a famous centre of dissipation and vicious cruelty. At times her slaves were pampered and encouraged into all kinds of most vicious excess; at others she would flog her whole retinue, and sometimes barbarously murder a few of them, simply for the pleasure she found in the killing. She died at last, and report said she had been strangled by her negro paramour. However, she left sufficient money to pay for the erection of a marble monument in the Parish Church; a memorial which was to contain a list of her virtues, and hand her name and fame down to posterity. Tradition has it that shortly after the clean white marble was set up in the church a crimson band grew out of the sculptured throat, permanently discolouring the neck and proving that the lady died of strangulation.

Another excellent show place in Jamaica is the Hope Garden, a few miles out of Kingston. This is the headquarters of the Jamaican botanical department, and it undoubtedly contains one of the most magnificent botanical collections in existence. Here can be found a most extensive and representative collection of tropical plants, and the botanist will have little difficulty in discovering a specimen of anything and everything that grows in any part of the world. But quite apart from its scientific value the Hope Garden is well worth a long visit. The gardens are carefully cultivated and the smooth green lawns and gravelled paths offer a fine contrast to the rugged wildness of the Jamaican lanes. Except for the difference of the climate, and the greater variety of rich out-door plants, one might imagine oneself in the trim gardens at Kew. We find carpet beddings and ornamental borders, lily-covered water tanks and banks of flowering orchids. Considerably more than an acre is given over to the cultivation of roses, and an intelligent attendant will tell you that Jamaica is not a good place for growing most species of the rose. The soil is too rich, the climate too warm. The poor rose gets no rest—it must flower continuously throughout the year, and so at the end of the fourth or fifth year, the poor plant, prematurely old, worn out by the constant exertion of producing its scented bloom, droops and dies. You will discover little forests of every tree to be found in Jamaica, and pass by clumps of fruit-trees bending beneath the weight of their heavy harvest. Yes, the Hope Garden is well worth seeing, especially so if one has an interest in or a love for beautiful flowers.

One of the great charms of Jamaica as a tourists’ resort is the multiplicity of the places every one really ought to see. People arrive from Europe or America, and the first friendly Jamaican they meet provides them with a programme of the places they really ought to visit. The friendly native gives them a list of excursions which will fill every minute of their time from the moment of their arrival to the projected time of their departure. When the newcomer meets a second friendly native he criticises the list prepared by his predecessor, and suggests many alterations. Substitute “Belle View” for “Mandeville” on such a day, or go to “Castleton” and leave out “Hope Gardens,” so that the bewildered tourist knows not what to do.

I am utterly incapable of giving advice in the matter. I invariably arrange such things particularly badly myself. My plan is always to have no plans. I do in the morning what seems most interesting. In this manner it is probable that I waste much precious time. I have wasted many mornings in the streets of Kingston when I might have been sight-seeing in the hills. But that is my rule. I prefer to have no plans, and I like to avoid the beaten track of the tourist. It is better to lounge always, especially so in the tropics. On a former visit to the island I was with a party who insisted on “doing” everything. We used to get up in the morning at six and go to bed at night at twelve. We lived in buggies and trains and tram-cars. At every point of interest we were stopped and invited to admire something which was eloquently described in the local guide-books. The natives we met were all unnatural. I remember that I expressed a desire to see a native village, and we were driven to a collection of trim huts, and a dozen well-dressed negroes appeared for our inspection. And the fee that was paid to the negroes for having been examined was placed in our bill of expenses. That, I venture to think, is not the best way to see a new country. It is always better to walk than to take a buggy, but if a buggy must be used then it is well to hire it by the hour or day and tell the driver to drive on—to drive in any direction that leads to no particular place. If you take a ride in the tram-cars it is better to sit in the seats used by the natives, the market-women and the labourers, than to loll in the front benches among the white people. If you want to see the market-place don’t take a policeman with you as if you expected to mix with the most abandoned criminals, and if you want an iced Kola go to one of the negro rum-shops for it, and avoid the beautifully-furnished European hotels. The people who “do places” and “see everything” usually mix only with tourists and never get to know the natives. True, they see the scenery and many of the places of interest, but they don’t get to know the life of the place, and they can have no knowledge of its people.

If the visitor wants to go to service on Sunday he would find it more interesting to go to a negro meeting-house than to the most popular of the fashionable churches. He would find out more about the inner life of the Jamaican army by ten minutes’ talk with any soldier of the line than by an hour’s interview with the smartest captain or most courteous commanding-officer. It is better to talk with the market women and the black men who deal in native tobacco, with the

water-side porters and the black constables, than it is to attend lectures, or read books, or interview politicians, if you want to know anything about the Jamaican labour problem. And all these things are more or less impossible if you explore Jamaica along the lines of a crowded time-table.

That is my opinion. So I am reluctant to suggest that tourists should make a point of seeing this thing or that. I would rather advise a newcomer to buy a buggy and a couple of horses and engage the services of an honest driver. Having secured these he should pack a bag with a couple of flannel suits, a tooth-brush and some under-linen, and then explore the island, practically giving his horses their heads all the way. The only instruction he need give his driver would be, Avoid the railroad track and go through as many villages as possible.

After this the tourist may go home knowing that he has seen something of the island even though he has not visited Spanish Town, Castleton, Gordon Town, Mandeville or Port Antonio. These places are but the names of important centres; Jamaica is the land of wood and water. The plantations and the banana fields, the forests and the rivers, and hedges, and the native villages are more interesting and far more fascinating than marble monuments or anglicised native houses.