The Portland daily press., 1895-04-27

l ordered dinner at 10 O'Clock. / hadn't
learned that the Jamaica breakfast is
anywhere from 10 to 10 o'clock and is a
substantial meal. Theirs is coffee and
bread on arising, or, most frequently,
taken in bed on aWaking. Had l ordered
breakfast Mrs. Olario would have given
me just the same meal that she gave me
for dinner and at smaller price, of
course.
was lounging on the sofa in
the cool room, thankful for
the rest and the GOODNESS
when I heard the sound of mans
boots and a military looking individual
entered. He was tall, erect,
we'll built and dressed in the uniform Of
a civil officer. He wore a handsome
pair of long yellow moustaches. His
hair was light ana his eyes were blue.
Yet he was not an Englishman, Scotch
man, Irishman or American. He was a
Jamaican, manifestly. He was very. dig
nifed and courteous in manner and an
peared to be about IS years old. in
ferred that he boarded with Mrs. Olario
and came for his breakfast, which in
fact soon arrived. He brought with him
large green fruit, that looked some
thing like a melon and was perhaps
eight by six inches in dimensions. He
told me that it was called a granadilla
and was the fruit of the passion flower.
On learning that I had never tasted that
fruit he offered to share 1T with me and
ordered the servant to prepare it with
port wine.
She soon returned with two glasses Of
curious looking mixture, that to tell
the truth, did not seem inviting, The
| inside of the fruit was q Shiny, slippery
| mass of pulp and seeds. The port wine
made it little thinner in substance but
no less Shiny and slippery. was told to
eat it with spoon and to eat seeds and
all. The seeds were about the size Of
squash seeds, but not SO thick. The
first spoonful started slowly enough,
but the rest started very briskly. The
seeds were as tender and crisp as the
choicest pie-orust and in flavor and
fragrance were delicate and delicious
beyond description.
My companion told me that he was
assistant collector of revenues at that
port and told him of my proposed bicy.
Gle trip through the island, of my con-
nection with newspaper my intention
to write something about Jamaica and
myexperiences and also that intended to
go to Montego Bay.
"Oh," said he, "if you are going to
Montego Bay, / have bit that may help
you in your description of that region.
said nothing, hoping that he would
proceed and explain what sort of aid to
description bit" might be.
1t is about the Mellilla river he con-
tlnued, after pause. Would you like
| it2n
had to ask him point blank to tsll
me what he meant by " bit".
"Oh," said he. laughing, "Why it's
verses you know"
He Went to his room and b sught
! handbook that seemed to have been
| written full of "bits". He found the
lines on the Mellilla river and passed the
book to me. l asked him to read it to
me, which he did, standing erect, and
with much feeling and expression. The
readers of the PRESS will, l am sure.
be interested to read these:
LINES
TO THE MELLILLA OR MARTHA BRAE
RIVER.
Ali Silly MelliIla's blue current is sweep
ing,
Now glancing in sunlight. in shadow now
Through the frinsy bamboo come its soft
dewy CLEANS,
And the 5loom-purpled cane fields are
bathed in its beams.
By cliff and by me adow,
In sunlight and shadow
Through fair sunset landscapes that azure
tide streams.
Not thus leap thy waves from tkeir fern
mantled fountain,
From Earths gloomy caverns, down yon
| sunny mountain.
Not thus do thy bowers thine iris dews
Where 6oulders in cascades thy waters
| entangle:
| Nor thus, through yon fenlands.
Yon foul fetid, fenands,
Those waters creep Oh through the blue
| steamy mangle.
Like thee life at first is all sparkles and
| laughter;
Like thee TOO it's calm and it's stiffness come
But OIL may not mine like thy current find
| ending
Where ali that is gloomy and noisome are
blending
But be calm and serene
| AS that tide Is now seen
7 through yerdure and brightness all trans-
gully vending.
Vain hope! if the scenes of past pleasure
| ana glaQQeSS
But augur the cares of future of sadness.
When laughter and song Ger thy waters
went ringing,
The notwithstanding moments of cheerfulness
| winging,
Who could pause mid delight,
Or regret the swift flight
| OF time that seemed only fresh happiness
| bringing.
Blest age! when no fears could the fond
heart embitter,
When lie spread around US no false fading
glitter,
When loves twilight blush DER the soft
| cheek was stealing,
And understanding eyes the warm love-light
revealing;
Loves age, but how aeeting;
Cod Low is each greeting;
The smile lig hts the eye, but it draws not
the feeling.
| Though the grove oe still green, and still
blue be the sky,
| Their beauty is dim to the tear clouded eye.
| Though the gales wait the odours and balm
of the Past,
| They soothe not the brow where LIES
shadows are cast.