On a visit made to the Cockpit country in 1905 by the present writer and a friend, on entering the neighbourhood of Trelawny Town, or Maroon Town as it is now called, we came across the remains of a block-house which had loopholed chambers at three corners and evidently had had an upper storey, now disappeared, for dwelling purposes. Being now in the heart of the Cockpit country we could study its formation in detail. At one time it gave the impression of a number of stunted cones rising from a plain; at another the feeling was one of a number of basins like the Devil’s Punch-bowls of England; at all times, except where there was a clearing for corn, bananas or bread-kind, it appeared thickly wooded—mahogany, cedar, mahoe, Santa Maria, and broadleaf being prominent; and mosquito wood and red shingle wood, and other lesser known woods, being pointed out by our guide. As the bridle path now runs at some distance from the rocks, which here and there crop out of the overhanging foliage and assume the form of solid masonry, tending to deceive one into thinking that one is in front of the ruin of some fort, it cannot be by it that the troops travelled when the Maroons hurled stones on them from above. As one rides along these defiles the mournful note of the solitaire, suggests the nervousness which might have fallen on the soldiers marching through a thickly wooded, rocky, unknown country, every crag of which might conceal a foe, to whose foot such mountain paths were familiar. At Maroon Town itself we found a clearing on which cattle were grazing, and a police station (just abandoned) built on the site of the officers’ quarters of half a century ago. Near by was the well which supplied the settlement with water, and a barracks, some 130 ft. long by 30 ft. broad, which had once possessed an upper storey of wood, little now remaining of the stoutly built lower walls of limestone quarried in the neighbourhood. There also were the powder-house and the cells, the hospital and the kitchens and the mess-house, which, placed on an immense rock open to the sea breeze from the east, commanded a view over Trelawny to the sea by Falmouth miles away. It was once a substantial building of three storeys, the solid steps leading up to the second floor being still usable. Opposite the mess-house rise two large conical hills calling to mind the twin Pitons of St. Lucia—the one called Gun Hill (because a gun had been placed in position there, possibly the howitzer with which Walpole did great execution), the other Garrison Hill. Then we saw the tank some thirty feet long, fed by a clear stream in which the soldiers were wont to bathe; then, saddest of all, a few tombs—one recalling the death in 1840 of a coloured sergeant of the 68th (or Durham) Regiment, another to the wife of a quartermaster of the 38th Regiment who died in 1846, and a third to the paymaster of the 101st Regiment who died in 1810; while a