Excerpt from Isles of Spice and Palm

Five days' sail from New York lie these islands of perpetual summer, lands where luscious fruits and gorgeous flowers may be gathered throughout the year, where feathery palms wave in the trade wind above surf-washed, coral beaches, where lofty mountains rise, forest-clad, to the drifting clouds, and where worry, care and hurry are unknown. Why the American public has failed to appreciate the attractions offered by the Caribbees is something of a mystery, for yearly thousands of our people travel to far distant corners of the earth, seeking the very things which may be found so much easier and in greater abundance among the islands at our doors.

To many, the West Indies are synonymous with sweltering heat, venomous serpents, noxious insects and dangerous maladies, but nothing could be further from the truth. Few of the islands arc uncomfortably hot, even in the coastal towns, and in none of them do we ever find the terrific heat and unbearable humidity of our northern towns in summer.

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