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handsful; deuce o' bit of the rind of ten thousand of them will Jacco touch ! no ! no ! massa —dem monkies savey what bitter as well as buckra ! And here I must take notice of the luncheon we enjoyed at Mr. Cottle's house, where the pines and oranges were most ambrosial. Here I learned how to eat guava jelly. Let it be served in a bell-mouthed glass, pierce it with a knife, and pour Madeira (I had Malmsey) into the fissure. The wine lubricates and enlivens the guava, and entirely takes away that mawkish sweetness which usually cloys the palate of every person but a West Indian. The temperature is so low upon the estates higher up the mountain, that many European vegetables are grown there, as sea-kale, turnips, and carrots. Mr. Cottle has, I think, peaches and strawberries also. Indeed I have reason to believe that if any persons thought it worth their while to make the experiment with a proper attention to soil and situation, a large proportion of the valuable trees and culinary vegetables of countries lying in very different latitudes might be interchangeably transplanted. Let it be considered that of the countless productions of the vegetable kingdom which England now possesses, perhaps not two per cent, are, what is called, indigenous to the soil; the rest have been imported by the labor of man. The very commonest of them all, good luck to it with its honest jacket ! lives equally well