XMAS IN MANY LANDS.

Auckland Star, Volume XLIII, Issue 305, 21 December 1912, Page 9

XMAS IN MANY LANDS.

PBIUI ViAN CELEBHATIONS. JCowhere, perhaps, does Christmas wear 60 strange a jrarb .i= m the half-Indian and half-Spanish countries of South America- For a typical South American Quisnnas we will glance at the festival j gg it b kept in Lima, the capital of Pern. On Christmas Evp—noche buena —the Good Night, as the natives &1.11 it, the vhole city i≤ alivp with preparations for ! the approaching festivity. Tbe public 1 ■sulks are crowd".i with pleasure-seekers and the grrat s.-ju-ars is filled with a modey cro»-. Numerous ice scaria surrounded with chairs ami benches are ecattered over Uie square, and a brisk | trade is carried on. for to the Limans jce is a necessary of life, and never is ii mere welcome than during the sultry , Christmastide. As the night wears on the crowd increases, and above all the . m>ise sounds tho wild chanting of {he '. Peruvian waits. These are bands of! negroes and negresses dressed in Mowing ! robes of red, and their black faces often iltsguised by ugiy and even blacker masU ; "£iicj carry in their hands calabashes ' filled with pebbles, which they rattle to mark time to ihe monotonous music of the guitar and clattering castanets, and j singing gutteral songs. After the blacks follow groups of Indian, women, their | long black hair unbound, in their hands long, slender wands fluttering with rib* bons- To the music ot flute and harp they move in circles, singing sweet melo<ses and keeping time with their fantastic j iatons. STABBXEASEKS OF ALASKA. One of the most interesting csrejnonies is that which is practised in Alaska, and which is called "Going ! roand with the star." , A large star with six or more points is made on a light ■wooden frame. =omewhat gaudily painted end decorated with bright-coloured tissue j paper, and this is borne round from house to house by a party of boys ajid girls. Wherever they stop they are invited in, tor everybody keeps "open i house' , at this season; when inside they ' gins some of the mtisic-al Rnssiaji Christmas carols, after which they are re- j T3Jed with what bounties 3re on the j tahle. . f This "vrnmr round with the star is j praet;sed = three nights, and is supposed to typify the quest of the wise men who followed the star in search of the infant Jesns. The first night the "Starbeaxers" j are more or les= disturbed by bands I of maskers, who go round and try to caich the "star parses" and destroy .. ihe star. These maskers are believed to j represent the soldiers sent by King Herod to destroy the young children in tbe lope that Jesus would perish in the slaughter. WSEEE CHF-IST WAS BORN. Perhaps-one of the most interesting places wiere Christmas is celebrated, » | .-'-£• Ssfes&e iteelf. writes John Fosterfeser. -Jerusalem is hjU. Parties make } their way to Bethlehem on Christmas | Eve A church, low-roofed, subdued in lighting, but decorated with many of the offerings of pilgrims, stands over the place where tradition say 3 that the stable in which Chribt was born wa3 situated. There is a service: prieets I chant; the worshippers bow their heads; { an air of impressive mystery hangs over the pla«e a= Christmas, morning is ushered in. QUAINT DOEtfGS IN MEXICO. . Xowhere in the world is Christmas so quaintly celebrated as in Mexico. Anytody visiting that fascinating country ■ during the middle of December, would find the shops packed with curious jars Tepresenting fantastic animals, flowers, monks, clowns, nuns. Inside the figure is a jar, sometimes large, sometimes small. There are processions in the etieets, torches are waved, songs sung-—----the whole place i≤ radiant with happiless. The houses are always decorated. Invariably one room is set apart to represent lie stable at Bethlehem, and much is done to make the apartment as realistic as possible. Father, mother. children and friends assemble in another loom carrying with them an image of the Infant Christ. They form into procession, eing hymns, go from room to loom, and at last reach the door behind 1 which is the manger. Two people, sup-1 posed to represent Mary and Joseph, j sing a request that they be admitted. The answer comes with a denial. Thenthere is a pleading for shelter. At th3.t the door is opened, everybody troops in, I the figure ol the Babe in the manger, and everyone bursts into happi-j Bess. In another room what ie known a≤ 1 She penata—the figure to which I have referred^—is suspended from the roof. In ©ie jar is a coliection of sweetmeats and plEsentc. Folk, old and young, are in! turn blindfolded, spun round, and then j with a stick are invited to hit the penata. Of course, this is rarely accomplished- At last, when one more for : j tnnate than the others, gives the figure a whack, the jar breaks, and down on J tbe floor tumbles a medley of sweet-1 Meate and presents. There "is a narnrsl i: scrambling for the g-ood things sprayed ■ ebont the floor. There is more of this ,' fantastic crockery brokm in Mexico on [. cne_ night than ordinary ware broken | during the rest of the year. A WETHTtACHT T~S BAVABIA. — !_ The KngHshman believes he under-! Biands th* , "cnlte" of Christmas in Old 3fcgla,nd. but for the real worship of the ' Christmas treo ■»>: must, take botu and train to the Fatherland. On the night j of Christmas Eve there is noc one family, , Hvin the poorest gathered in their one , room, u> the highest in the "Koniglic-hes EcUoss," that has not its "Christ-baum" \ guttering m its midst. To a homeless | wanderer, a walk through the streets of \ & German city, on this nifrht, mnst «be a . ghastly mockery. For from behind every \ window gleam the fairy Ughts of the; ' Qinstjnas trees —and round every tree' fee children are ga-thered in awestruck 1 delight \ For a whole week before Christmas ( Ate.y each square and public place—each ' B * T eet corner^ —has been green with a j of fir trees—big trees for long \ pnrees, little tre« for short onesj there j toder the open sky the eager Harefrau 1 .Bakes her bargain, and some pale-faced 1 "Jan or boy shoulders the waving ] tranche? and carries it beside her to her * home. Day by day the pretty green as- 1 fcsmblags diminishes, until on the morn- ' i&S of Qiris£ffiA3 Eva only a few little s

trees nod., forgotten,, in. the cold "wind. And a few hours later these lonely remnants are throve on to" a" cart and ear- ! ried a-way to a shameful oblivion. But their happier brothers bloom in splendid pride in sheltered homes. The mothers' hands decorate them lovingly, and a chorus of "wunderschon" from the lips of the dazzled children is, as it were, the swan-song of the Christmas tree. Tomorrow he. too. will lie cast out in shameful oblivion—but for one night he is the adored o£ the homestead—and perhaps the glory may compensate him -for his early knows ? . Yet these "wonderful Germans, to whom we look, ordinarily, for a hard, i matter-of-fact common sense, astonish us I at Christmas time by the delicate tenderness of a poetic imagination. Com* with mo in spirit to the German -graveyards en Ghristmas Eve, and see the tombs of the beloved (lead decorated with holly aid mistletoe, and here, even here, the little Christmas tree shines over the darkness of a grave. And I think if the ghosts of those remembered dear ones do , come and hover over their tombs they must feel glad to be so unforgotten. And, . to-night, as I wandered here in Munich i through the wild glades of the Wakl- ! friedhof—-the forest cemetery—and saw ! the gleaming lights of the little "Christi baume" on. the graves, 1 took mv hat off ; in spirit to the people ■who could find ! time amid the endless bustle of Christmas for this aweet homage to those whose cars can bear no longer The Christmas bells from hfll to Mil i Answer each other in the mist. Christmas Eve has certainly stolen the halo of glory from Christmas Day in Germany. There is not even a plum pudding to give a flame of glory to the 25th. : The 24th has- it ail its own way. The ; midnight Mass takes the good Catholics 1 of the Catholic city of Munich to the ! churches, after the children, clasping their presents, and dreaming of their beloved tree, are safely tucked in bid. And Christmas Day itself, after church in the morning, is spent peacefuHv in .a j somewhat sleepy and pensive family circle. The German has the same instinct for family union at Christmas as the Englishman. He travels many hundred miles to pass tbe sacred "'Weih- ; nacht." as they call Christmas, in his home, and-he is so much more a domestic animal than we that a. Christmas dinner at a hotel is unheard of for those not ; actually staying within its walls. We have a way-p-when we are no longer in our teens —of sighing and yawning over j the prospect of Christmas; not so the I German. He is as frankly pleased with [■his '.'JVeQuiacht" as if he were still a i child. And to the stranger sojourning in his land there comes a glow from the myriad lights of fairy branches, gleaming from shuttered windows. Iso orgies ; here, no gluttony or drunken revelry. I Only the "Christ-kind," as they ca;l Santa Claus—smiling on the children. 1 and taking us all, for a few short hours. i into that fairyland we lost so many ! years ago. T/KIT/A MACDONALD. STRAS&E MOIJTEHKEIN STTFERSTTnON. In Montenegro every Christmas night a fire is kindled on the big hearth, each • member of the family lighting a piece of • wood and placing it tnereon. In every I iireplace hangs a great kettle chain, which is directly above the blaze. Oi course, as the fire progresses this chain becomes' intensely heated. Ctn Christmas night, however, the iron chain does not become heated at all, but remains cool ! to the touch. At least, this i.s what J every ilontenegro peasant believes, and he will tell you he haa madfi a test of it on every succeeding Christmas night To explain the fact, they claim, so we are told by the author of "European Customs and Superstitions," that a similar rha.in hung over the fire built on the floor of the stable at Bethlehem, and that at the birth of Christ the Vir- ; gin Mother grasped it for support. It I became cool at her touch, lest it burnt the saintly hand, and from that day to this there is no fire hot enough, to heat the fireplace chain on Christmas Day. . . TWE GOLDEN DAY IW HEW ZEALAND. " Gofl gave all men all earth to lore. But since pnr hearts are small, Ortfalned for each one spot 6honld prove Beloved-over all." —Kipling. I '•' Get up, you lazy beggws ! A Merry Christmas. , ' 1 Eyes open slowly to the fuU daylight 1 of a flawless summer morning, filtered through canvas. The door of the tent is i filler) by the caller, a tall finely trained , : figure m soft white shirt, trousers in ! i the last act of their life's drama, and j dilapidated hat that gives shade.out of j all proportion to its trifling cost. "■ Hurry up! Breakfast's nearly ready." ' Sleepy eyes arc rubbed; limbs tired -with tbe false fatigue of bed are 'stretched: blankets are thrown off beds : of -manuka twigs and. miuigj-mnngi; clothes are pulled era; and the two yoangest occtLpants of the tent fight for a towel, thereby putting a finishing touch ! to the truly masculine untidiners of the j ! interior. j It is a little after seven, but the day is already hot. From the stuffiness of j the tent'to the clean air outside is a magic change. The tent is pitched on a grass glade at the foot of a hill. The city whence the campers come is far away over the hills, and the spot they have chosen lies off the beaten holiday tracks. There is not another camp within, sight or sound, and not more than a score or two of people within ten miles. The beauty of the bush and , manuka-covered hills is untouched by j man, the sea. is taintless, the solitudes j unbroken. A giant pohuiukawa shades ' the tent, and through its dark green j leaves and wealth of crimson flowers breakers can be seen plunging lazily on a ' background of deep bine. Manuka scrub ! clothee the hill for some hundred feet; j above is the dark greea of the bush. ; shading into the purple of the trees on ' the? distant peak?. The sky is cloudless, and the smoke from the camp fire goes . straight into the air. j "Whew: It's going to be a scorcher! - ' j A procession of barefooted men andboys, towels over shoulders, moves off to a little valley through which a bush creek falls in steep cascades to the sea. Two ''iris bending over the tire, and a gronp by the door of the women's tent. throw light greetings to them as they pass, with joke 3 about people who cannot get up- in -thne for breakfast. Five minutes'- scramble up the cleft in the hifl brings the party to- -a. deep pooi. shaded from the s-un by a thick tangle of bush, and fringed with drooping ferns. '. The plunge in the pure cold water is j short, but the physical and mental ex-j

.. bilaxation it produces is wonderful. -3Jo - town bath can give the "effect of this -| untainted water that eqmes. straight from the recesses of the bush, and runs i open to the sky. A brisk rub down with 3 a rough towel, and where are langour , and fatigue? s' Breakfast is eaten under the shade -of. the great pohutukawa on a rough- taitle I of odd planks nailed to manuka supports. t Porridge, bacon and potatoes, bread and a butter and jam are the fare.. As sharp appetites become dulled conversation be- " comes brisker, until everyone is talking i or listening intently. After breakfast is ! a blissful hour of loafing for most of the > party. Pipe.s and books are got out, , and "there is the choice of reading or ' gossiping, or lying back and listening- to - thp throb of the midsummer day slowjy i gathering force. i By ten, kits, bap and " billies " are f packed for tbe day's outing. The' path t taken is a narrow bush track winding ; u>p the range, and the toujrhest member > of the party is glad to take the ascent ; in leisurely" fashion. Every now and J > then a halt is made to recover breath i r and take great draughts of the scene's | beauty. The bush pulsates with heat I I and luxuriant life. Ferns hang over tne - path or meet overhead; down in the , ) gully a stream tinkles ■ ' -'icate note; j I up above a white-throa: ' :-alls stridr eutly, and then drops nou-s of liquid! . silver. Through the trees are caught! glimpses of crawling wave, and beyond, j ' the blue, lifeless I'acific. stretdung un- I ! , broken to tbe horizon. I " Perhaps they're having snow in Eng- j land." The remark breaks a silence; there 13 little conversation in these rests, for the i magic spell of the spot thpy love best is i on all. ' j Over a hill and along high land, then [ . down into a bay, and the morning's 1 5 pleasant task is over. A fire is lighted i —tea sroes with every meal in camp— j > and the party is soon attacking lunch. r Here is no Christmas dinner of tradition; • the only suggestion of it is cold plum ' pudding, which experienced hands affirm j I 13 the finest " tack" for long walks. ( Sandwiches, bread and butter, cake, cold \ . plum pudding, and Large mugs of tea—; who, under "the circumstances, would' , want anything different? ! j "My hat!" -rays someone in a- lull, ' ; think of all the poor beggars eating . Christmas dinners in town." ' The others think of it with- a shudder. ' Hot meat and- puddin? in a stuffy Auck- I land dinins-room. with the ground out- j " side dancing under the midday heat, is | ! one of the world's most unjustifiable j 1 meals. : i The party scatters after lunch —some i 5 to lie in the shade and read, others to i 1 walk along the "beach, the most energetic I 1 r.o scramble up a hush creek, to ba re- I 'warded with a climpse of magnificent , ! gorge, and come back wet with wading , . • Towards four it become-* cooler, and ' cricket is played on the hard sand. The • walking ~ Wisden " of the party has carI ried a bat and a ball over the hill. ,1 About half-past four a start is made , back to camp, which is reached in the •'loveliest hour of the day. The sun is near the sea, the air is delightfully mild and balmy, and a great settles over everything. While the billy is boiling for tea, another visit is paid to the bathing pool. Tea is a leisurely meal, for the whole long evening is before them, without a j care. Conversation flows easily, but as befits " the incomparable pomp of eve," , less riotously than at breakfast. It is graver and more intimate. The sun has 1 gone down and the stars are out in their I cold splendour, and the warm night I hangs like a beautifully draped purple I robe on the shoulders of the hills.- The campers lie on a bank on the edge of the beach. Fingers play idly with warm sand, and ', voices speak in low tones that indicate I deep contentment. Someone starts a chorus, and there follow college song 3, items from the Savoy operas, plantation melodies and an occasional excursion into German sentiment. " Hark, jfcbe ' Herald Angels Sing," and other Christmas 'hymns show that the religious aspect! ' of the season is not forgotten. In the I ' j intervals of song and conversation some- 1 i one draws on a well-stored mind for favourite poems. lie ranges over Eng- ■ l lish poetry from Shakespeare to Xewj bolt and Kjpling—a poem here and a I verse or two there. The camp has its ■ j special favourites — Newbolt's " Vital ■ i Lampada," Swinburne's " Garden of Proserpinp," om> or two of Tennyson's and several of Kiplings. The party is never tired of '"L'Envoi":— "Tbe days are sicli and cold, and the skies are grey and old. j And the twice-breathed a*ra blow damp, i And I'd sell my tired sonl for the lurching heam-sea roll Of a black Bilbao tramp." It was trritten about a different climate, but ita longing for " the larger air" goes to the heart of every listener. And so with talk and song, and verse the evening goes by, and it is well past midnight before the last word of the last argument i 3 spoken in the men's tent. The campers will go their way 3 in the world., ajid the camp may neyer 6ee them all together again, but the smell of the manuka slopes, the red of the i Christmas flower, the glint of the sea, ! the deep solitude of the bush, the im- ' ! mense physical contentment of the life, i ■ will always be. a common bond... The J memory of such a Christmas X)ay and night is a frafrrant flower to carry near the heart to keep one young. TITLE IN AN ENGLISH HOME. ! '"A real, old-fashioned Christmas,' , said Paterfamilias, cutting deep into the rich golden-brown pork pie that "graced the J upper end of the table. And an old- ' fashioned Christmas it was, too! Out in the garden the snow lay inches deep | on the ground, and the treee were fret- I ted white against the grey sky, while the wind that soared round the house,! rattling the doors and making the floors creak, and the firo on the hearth roar merrily up the chimney, bore with it niany a ■whirling, featheTy flake. Aβ for ' tie scene indoors, it made the-Poet think i ol" Dingley Dell. Not only was every I pioiu re-trsuno iin;KCil with .i buncii of : holly, but the flower were filled j with evergreen, and out in tbe wide old - 'hall, of course, a magnificent mistletoe 1 bough dangled temptingly over the bot- ! torn stair. Everyone was merry, even ' i "grandfather." a* the picture of a long- ' j dead ancestor which hung over the man- ' tdpiece wae called, seemed to b:* infected by the general gaiety, for a wide smile : creased his jolly old face a3 he gazed benignly on. Ihe breakfast-table was ; : littered with torn envelopes, cards of ■ greeting, calendans, and the like. Every- ' one was talking at one and the same ■ time: somebody took up Paterfamilias' ' remark about Christmas., llamma tried j to explain that the presents were to re- ' main locked up till after dinner (Christ-j] mas dinner, if you please, k. at one ' o.'eloek); as usual, tho children discussed i the shape, size, and probable con-tents..." of certain mysterious packages. The : grown-ups .-endeavoured to carry oa a : commonplace conversation, ani the Poet i was frying to .get in a word edgeways i to pretty Phyllis of the grey 'eyes and i • yellow locks. j,

THE MIRTH OF THE YULE. Half an hour later, the whole party were at church—in obedience to a regulation to which both family and visitors were expected to conform. But, then, everybody goes to church on a Chriatmae Day—in the country, at any rate. Even the most confirmed church-shirker,, thought the Poet, looking at the pillars wreathed with evergreen and the hoMycovered pulpit, could not mind this. Every one lopked so jolly, too; all the little choirboys, their faces shining with the combined application of yellow soap and elbow grease,, appeared as cheerful as if Lhey had each received a five shilling piece as a Cbristmas-box; little Mias Cook, who keepe the general stores iD the (cave the name!) High Street, smiled as if she was not three shillings short of tho rent; yes, everyone, even the gouty old general, looked as if he did not want to eat all the little boye up, as he usually does, and merely because his pretty "niece had kissed him on the tip of his fiery old nose, arid told him he "was a "dear 'old curmudgeon." Aβ for j the crossing-sweeper who stood at the I porch, he had .said "Merry Christmas-and-thank-ye-kindly" so many times that he must have made enough money to tlaafr him a twelvemonth. I The great outstanding feature of t Christmas Day is, of course, the dinner, (and in this direction the Poet'e hosta 1 nobly carried out the old tradition. First I course: turkey and baron of beef; secj ond course: plum pudding; fruit and old j port to follow. This was the bill of I fare, and how inadequately must cold 1 words convey the glories of that fcaet. it is impossible to describe that immense bird, delicately browned all over, and suri rounded by a chain of fat "sareingere," ,or the great baron of beef, doDe just to I a turn, with yellow fat alternating with rosy lean, or that monster of a pudding, its dark raisin-studded sides licked by bme flames, and a eprig of red-berried "holly nodding at its summit. Many people nowadays sneer at this good old English fare, and talk glibly on Christmas indigestion, but the Poet, and I will always ( aver that it i<3 better to devour large qnahtities of turkey and plum pudding than to eat a little of each of ten different courses, of thi ingredients of which you are entirely ignorant of. UNDER THE MISTLETOE. Dinner over, the Important business of present distribution was undertaken by Mamma, to an accompaniment of such remarks as "How too sweet of you!" "I say, this is awfully jolly,' , "How rip- ; ping," and so forth, and, in some cased, to little tshrieks of delight. After that i the grown-ups retired to their respec--1 tive bedrooms, probably for an afterda'.e, leaving Pnvllis, the Poet, j and Myself to uphold law and order among the wild tribe of youngsters. Thcr» was a biazing firo in the hall, and before it we settled and tokt fairy stories in turn till tea-time, while chistnuts roasted on the hot bars. The Poet had just come to a most exciting part of the adventures of Prince Charming when Phyllk whispered, "Do look at Barbara." He looked across into the flame-shad-owed hall, and there under the mistletoe stood iXJos Barbara (aetat. circ. vii ) apparently awaiting somebody. "Sh e wants you to kiss her, Poet," whispered Phyllis. I regret to say that the Poet did j not show hirueelf a man of action. He •blushed most painfully, and murmured something about the mistletoe custom ««'•*« *WI o:n: >". IV ,IU did nqt commit herself, ana Miss Barbara was unfortunately disappointed in her expectations. Xight-time is, however, the proper time for telling stories, and when supper was finished, and long after the children had been packed to bed, we drew up our chairs in a semi-circle round the fire, and told ghost tele while the casements rattled and the boards creaked as if some one invisible and intangible was astir Paterfamilias could tell the moet srhastly etones imaginable, under the kindly influence of a certain delicious decoction the secret of which I shall not divulire I but merely state that among the in-redi-;ents are lemon-juice, hot water, slices and Something Else. So vivid were the stones of misty phantoms and shapes of woe that he told us, that our blood almost turned to water, and made ua cast tinud glances over our shoulders into the wavering shadows to see if anything was there. Still, that hxrdlv accounted for the absence of the Poet! and I crept to the door to see what had become of him. I peeped out. Well! Most plainly had he recanted of hie un-Christ-masae ? heresy, because he and pretty PHILEXODES. IN JAMAICAV^aLLs. (By ERNEST BOYLE.) At this elevation of some 2,500 ft above the sea the indoor thermometer neveT falls below 63 at night, while in the daytime it is some JO to 14 de-rees higher. But a cold, wave is sweep^ TV£r™ erica '" and tbe n °rth -wind which bfows over the island in consequence feels chilly to. tho Jamaican. For mc, accustomed to a London winter, the temperature is perfect. One blanket suffices at night, with doors and window open, and one never has the slightest wish for a. fire. When the rains fall the climate is, perhaps, not so pleasant; hut these winter days are delightful- and it would be hard to conceive of a spot more wholly pleasing in which to spend Christmastide, But the great festival is an exceptional time everywhere, and perhaps a more useful purpose may be served by some description of the ordinary life of the season here, than hy enlargement upon Christmas doings. I We are up soon after sunrise, and jthe day with—early-breakfast, or tea as Jamaica calls it. Then we spend a I few idle moments in the garden. Our little bungalow stands on the shoulder of a hill facing the range- of the Blue Mountains, which culminate in the Peak, some 7,500 ft above sea level. At this time of day the hills are at their best full of . shadow with patches of mist that add to their height. As the sun gets up the shadows vanish and only hard lines arc left. It is very pleasant to stand about in the early morning sun. The plants are fresh with dew! and we wander round and enjoy tbe colour and the fragrance of the garden. After the rains, and refreshed by a more recent fall, the ferns are at their best. There are over 500 species of fern in the island. In the garden the maidenhair family is the most conspicuous. Here is a Morning Glory (Ipomoea, Heavenly Blue) rambling "luxuriantly close to a. pink hibiscus—pencilled like a pelargonium; they are admirably placed together, Close by some pink roses and pale blue plumbago form another perfect combination of -colour. Beponias—a great feature of Jamaica—are always in flower; their leaves are exquisite both in colour I and form. Here is a, Euohar.is lily in ; full bloom, and all a-bont are sweet- 1 smelling shrubs in fewer —jasrnirro. Centrum iroctuxnum, a:iu Olaa fragrant,..t.iau. | which no perfume in the wide world is tweeter.

The double poinnettias are a blaze of colour; they grow some" 10ft or 12ft high and in wild profusion. Orange and grapefruit trees loaded with' fruit add to the colour, and the feeling of summer is over all. There are no better oranges than these, and the grape-fruit are better still. -Beside mangoes, pines, and the orange, family, tropical fruits are not attractive to some people, reminding them more of pomatum than anything else. Close to the house one or two cocoanut palms curve majestically up, and just below is a large clump of bamboo. . What a contrast it all is to the gloom and cold of a London winter! At about 8.30 we begin the day's work, and are kept busy till near noon, when we bathe and have breakfast. It is a very hungry place. After breakfast we smoke, read the papers, and return to our work. In the coot of the evening we go for a walk, and keep our eyes open for the many beautiful things that lie everywhere -for those who care to look for them. Along the banks toy the roadside, under the shade of the trees and rocks, the tender green and exquisite foliage of Adiantum concinnum, intermingled with a profusion of scarlet Achimenes, is now at Its best. The little homes of the negroes," built mostly of bamboo and. clay, nestle amongst the , trees along the valley. The children cheerily pass the time of day to us as we go by. It is a light-hearted, happy race, with many faults, but not without its good points; the negroes can be idle, but they can work, too. The loads they carry on their heads for long distances would surprise some of the people at Home. Their wants are few and easily satisfied: they live for the moment, and care nothing for the future. It is dark by the time we return home. Our walk usually ends with a visit to iCs-s Annie, our landlady, well known in these hills, who does many kind acts for us and others. This letter is already long, and I have said nothing of the song of the nightingales, of the humming birds, of the fire flies, of the soft beauty of the tropical night, or of much else that is so fascinating under southern skies. No. fairer spot than this lovely isle can throw a charm upon him who will but cross the sea.