l seem to pass in swift
succession before the eye of the observer.

These islands are all, with the exception of St. Bartholomew, more
or less cultivated, but being mountainous and of volcanic origin, the
productive lands lie on the base of the mountains, or on the spacious
intervals and valleys near the sea shore. Studded with plantations, each
of which resembles a little village planned by some skilful landscape
gardener; with crystal streams dashing down the mountain sides; with
dense forests covering the high lands and mountain summits; with bays
and indentations along the coast, each with a thriving village at the
extremity, defended by fortifications; with ships at anchor in the
roadsteads, and droghers coasting along the shores; with an atmosphere
richly laden with sweets, and all the interesting associations connected
with a tropical climate; these islands furnish an array of attractions
which are hardly surpassed in the Western Hemisphere. The beautiful
description in the song of Mignon, in the "Wilhelm Meister" of Goethe,
of a land of fruits and flowers, will apply with singular felicity to
these Windward Islands:

"Know'st thou the land where the pale citron grows, And the gold orange
through dark foliage glows? A soft wind flutters from the deep blue sky,
The myrtle blooms, and towers the laurel high. Know'st thou it well?"

I have sometimes wondered why the capitalists of New England, in search
of recreation and pleasure for themselves and families instead of
crossing the Atlantic to visit the oft-described and stale wonders of
the Old World, do not charter a yacht or a packet schooner, and with
a goodly company take a trip to the West Indies, sail around and among
these islands, visit places of interest, accept the hospitality of the
planters, which is always freely bestowed, and thus secure a fund of
rational enjoyment, gratify a laudable curiosity in relation to the
manners and habits of the people of the torrid zone, and bring away a
multitude of agreeable impressions on their minds, which will keep vivid
and fresh the remainder of their lives.

After leaving Martinico, we found, on broaching our provisions, that
they were of bad quality, of the worst possible description. The bread,
deposited in bags, was of a dark color, coarse texture, and French
manufacture. It must have been of an inferior kind when new and fresh,
and a long tarry in a tropical climate was not calculated to improve
its characte