the best my wardrobe could furnish, my companion would endeavour to supply me with a more suitable equipment. He produced a pair of breeches which no self-respecting tramp would have rescued from a dust-bin, the remainder of a shirt upon which moths had made many a hearty meal, a thick pair of stockings that would have gladdened the heart of an Arctic explorer, a pair of boots such as are affected by those who go down into the bowels of the earth in sewers, and a hat so thickly coated with mud and clay that it might easily have been mistaken for a crude specimen of pottery. The fact that the breeches and shirt had been made originally for a smaller man detracted somewhat from their comfort, although the figure presented when arrayed in the garments would have aroused the envy of a professional tramp. When we were well into the forest the suitableness of this attire became apparent, and I owed a debt of gratitude to my considerate companion for having saved a respectable portion of my wardrobe from utter destruction. A change of clothing was tied up in a piece of stout waterproof material and consigned to the charge of one of the negroes who were to accompany us, and so, armed with a long pole, we started. The party consisted of my companion and myself, three negroes, and two half-bred Indians, who carried between them fresh supplies and provisions for the camp. The first part of the way lay through an old track, and offered no difficulty. After traversing a distance of about a mile we came to a muddy river, on the banks of which stood a small Indian village, composed of rude huts and shacks. The human beings who inhabited these patched-up, nondescript dwellings were about as mixed in breed as their houses in construction, and as indolent and dirty as their domiciles were foul and evil-smelling. We were detained for some time while search was being made for the boatman whose services were required to paddle us to the other side, and as we stood looking across the swiftly flowing, muddy river, I had an opportunity of becoming more closely acquainted with the camp-followers who accompanied us. A tall, middle-aged negro, called Harvey, who with difficulty was balancing a bundle upon his head, made himself conspicuous by his never-ceasing chatter. No threats from my companion served to stop his garrulity, which was explained by the fact that he had not recovered from the festivities of the previous day, the anniversary of his King’s birthday. Like a true Britisher, this Jamaican had indulged in royal toasts until he had almost assumed a regal demeanour of independence; and when he was told that he was drunk he denied it in so lofty a manner that it only confirmed the correctness of our diagnosis. “Harvey,” said my companion sternly, “don’t you know what the Bible says will happen to men who take too much strong drink?” “Don’t kere what the Bible say ’bout strong drink, cap’n, but I should