y all with whom I came in contact
with confidence and kindness. During my stay, my feelings were never
hurt by ungenerous allusions to my native country. Whatever unpleasant
associations were produced, from time to time, among the planters by
the passing events of the war, they were restrained by a feeling of
delicacy, which I could duly appreciate, from indulging in offensive
remarks in my hearing. On one occasion their forbearance, politeness,
and respect for myself were put to a severe test.

The war between Great Britain and the United states deprived the
inhabitants of the British West India colonies of many comforts and
luxuries which they enjoyed when free intercourse was maintained between
the United States and the different ports in the English islands. During
the war, all the stores and provisions, lumber, and other important
materials required on the plantations, were conveyed thither from
ports in Great Britain in ships sailing under convoy of men-of-war. The
arrival of these ships, which took place at certain seasons, when the
produce was ready for shipping, was anxiously expected, as they were
freighted not only with useful articles for the estates, but also
contained generous lots of hams, porter, cheese, wines, and other
delicacies and condiments, ordered by the planters themselves for their
especial benefit and enjoyment. It was a day of jubilee and rejoicing
when a ship known to be freighted with these "good things" and "creature
comforts" arrived safely in port.

At the proper season, in 1814, the good ship Corunna, of Bristol, was
expected at Greenville. This ship was an old trader, and the captain
had been intrusted with many commissions, which, as he was an honest and
faithful man, it was not doubted he would execute satisfactorily. Most
of the planters in that part of the island were looking out anxiously
every day for the arrival of the Corunna. Their private stores had been
long exhausted, and they longed to have them replenished. The ship was
an unreasonable time on her passage.

It was Sunday afternoon. I was dining with Mr. Stevenson, the manager
of the Tivoli estate, in company with several planters. The house was
situated on an elevated spot, and commanded a fine view of the sea,
extending nearly from the Grenadines to LaBaye, the port of Greenville.
It was distant from the sea shore not more than a couple of miles.
Suddenly, on looking out of the front windows of the dining hall, a
larg