I made a voyage to Jamaica in 1864, the year of the rebellion, and had the pleasure of staying with Governor Eyre. The rebellion at one time assumed a very grave aspect, and the governor got into serious trouble, because, to save the situation, he shot several of the rebel ringleaders, after a trial by drumhead court-martial. I fully believed from what I knew of the circumstances that he was justified in doing so, and his action prevented a serious outbreak, but he was made the scapegoat.

I have visited Jamaica several times, and until I had seen Ceylon, considered it the most beautiful island in the world.

Mexico.

In 1892, when on a visit to America with my daughter, I was asked to proceed to Mexico, to endeavour to induce the Mexican Government to give their National Bonds in exchange for the bonds of the Mexican Southern Railway. These had been guaranteed by the several Mexican States through which the railway passed, but there had been default in the interest payments, and the bonds were in consequence greatly depreciated in value, the $100 bond selling in London for $25. I thought it was a hopeless mission, but decided to go. We proceeded from New York through Arkansas and Texas. It took us thirty-six hours in the train to cross Texas, travelling all the while; this will give some idea of the great size of this state.

On our way we saw in the newspapers that an insurrection had broken out in Mexico, headed by Gusman. The New York papers had long detailed accounts. This induced me to break our journey at Laredo, which is situated on the frontier of Mexico, as I did not wish to expose my daughter to any danger. On my arrival at the hotel at Laredo, I sent for the landlord and asked him where the rebellion was. He replied, "Right here, sir, in this hotel." I could not understand what he meant, and desired him to explain himself. "Well," he said, "I will tell you how it was. Some reports reached the north that a civil war had broken out, and one day fourteen newspaper reporters arrived. They came to this hotel and sent for me, and demanded how they could get to the seat of the war, and where Gusman, the leader of the rebels, was to be found. I told them there was no rebellion, and that I had seen Gusman in Laredo a few days before, selling cattle. They were not, however, satisfied, and said that they had come down to write up a civil war, and a civil war there must be. They stayed in this hotel ten days, sending to the north every day long accounts of the progress of hostilities, and then they returned home." I thought this was one of the best stories of the methods of American journalists that I had ever heard, and as I knew it to be true, I repeated it to President Diaz a few days later, on my arrival at the city of Mexico. The old President was much amused, and said it reminded him of the story of a tiger. He received news that the people of a certain village were being destroyed by a tiger, and dared not venture out for fear of the animal, so he sent down a company of soldiers; they found it was quite true that the villagers were scared to death, but there was no tiger. A puma is called in Mexico a tiger.

When I told the President the object of my mission to Mexico he laughed, and exclaimed, "Did I think he was going to give me his good money for my bad money?" In my heart I thought he had very aptly described the situation, but I replied that I hoped to convince him that the good credit of Mexico was in jeopardy by my railway bonds being in default, and if the Government would step into the breach it would place the credit of Mexico in a high position in the London money market. I, however, made very little impression upon him. I was asking for Mexican bonds worth £900,000 for my railway bonds worth at the outside £250,000. I had several interviews, but met with very little encouragement. I, however, got to know the President, and he became very friendly and pleasant to me. On one of my visits he told me of his birthplace, Oaxaca, situated about 200 miles south of the city of Mexico; he was evidently very proud of it. He spoke of the beauty of the situation, the richness of the country, both in the fertility of its soil and mineral resources, and the industry of the Indian population.

I thought it would not be a bad idea to run down and see Oaxaca. I was doing no good in Mexico, and I should also be able to see something of the Mexican Southern Railway, which ran about half the way to a place called Tehuacan. We proceeded by train to Puebla, where I left my daughter, and then down the long broad valley of Tehuacan. Every few miles we came to a magnificent church, which formerly had been the centre of a village or town, for during the Spanish occupation this valley contained a population of 1,000,000, and was very fertile and rich. We saw now and again the aqueducts and tunnels which had conveyed water through the valley for irrigation.

At Tehuacan we passed through several fine cañons; here we took horses, as the railway was not completed beyond this point, and rode through a very delightful country. The first night we slept at an Indian village, or tried to sleep, but were disturbed by the barking of dogs. Every house appeared to possess a dog, which made it its business to howl and make the night hideous. The village was quite tidy, the houses mostly built of bamboo and thatched with dried palm leaves. The Indians themselves, in their wide-brimmed hats and white calico clothes, often wearing woollen ponchos, were picturesque and interesting.

On our arrival at Oaxaca we put up at the hotel, which was far from inviting, and then called upon the governor and the archbishop, the latter an Irishman with a decided brogue; he is a very rich and powerful man, and practically rules over his diocese, both in temporal as well as in spiritual affairs.

Oaxaca was a charming little town, prettily situated in a valley; in the centre of the town is a public garden and bandstand. One of the secrets of President Diaz's popularity is his sympathy with the love of music so general among the Indians, and he has wisely provided every little town with its orchestra.