“The beautiful cottage where we were sojourning was situated about 3000 feet above the level of the sea, and half-way up the great prong of the Blue Mountains, known by the name of the Liguanea range, which rises behind and overhangs the city of Kingston.... Immediately under foot rose several lower ranges of mountains—those nearest us, covered with laurel-looking coffee-bushes, interspersed with negro villages hanging among the fruit trees like clusters of birds’ nests on the hill-side, with a bright green patch of plantain suckers here and there, and a white-painted overseer’s house peeping from out the wood, and herds of cattle in the guinea-grass pieces. Beyond these stretched out the lovely plain of Liguanea covered with luxuriant cane-pieces, and groups of negro houses, and guinea-grass pastures of even a deeper green than that of the canes; and smaller towns of sugar works rose every here and there, with their threads of white smoke floating up into the clear sky, while, as the plain receded the cultivation disappeared, and it gradually became sterile, hot and sandy, until the Long Mountain hove its back like a whale from out the sealike level of the plain; while to the right of it appeared the city of Kingston, like a model, with its parade, or _place d’armes_, in the centre, from which its long lines of hot, sandy streets stretched out at right angles, with the military post of Up-Park Camp, situated about a mile and a half to the northward and eastward of the town. Through a tolerably good glass the church spire looked like a needle, the trees about the houses like bushes, the tall cocoanut trees like harebells; a slow crawling black speck here and there denoted a carriage moving along, while waggons with their teams of eighteen and twenty oxen looked like so many centipedes. At the camp, the two regiments drawn out on parade, with two nine-pounders on each flank, and their attendant gunners, looked like a red sparkling line, with two black spots at each end, surrounded by small black dots.” Michael Scott is now chiefly remembered in connection with a cotton tree at Camp by the barracks, and one on the Spanish Town road, half-way from Kingston. The following is the passage from “Tom Cringle’s Log” which has made the cotton tree at =Up-Park Camp= famous: “I had occasion at this time to visit Up-Park Camp, a military post about a mile and a half from Kingston, where two regiments of infantry and a detachment of artillery were stationed. “In the forenoon I walked out in company with an officer, a relation of my own, whom I had gone to visit; enjoying the fresh sea-breeze that whistled past us in half a gale of wind, although the sun was vertical, and shining into the bottom of a pint-pot, as the sailors have it.