Commissariat department with his monthly visits, and those only of my readers, who have shaken hands with a sovereign, can tell the sensation I experienced; yet even they might be at a loss, for his Charaib majesty was by no means like any of the sovereigns of Europe. Fancy an old man arrayed in clothes little better than those of a beggar of high degree, who if not exactly a sans culotte, was, at all events, without shoes or stockings; his nose large and extensive, and his eyes small and sparkling, his stature diminutive, his head flat, his body small, his legs thin, and his trowsers tucked up to his knees, with a bag thrown over his shoulder, trudging with the pace of a sloth

up hill and down dale," and finally making his entrée into the Commissariat stores, and demanding his rations of the issuer, with all the gravity of a judge.

Such was his majesty when I first beheld him, and clasped his olive-coloured hand bedewed with the perspiration occasioned by a long walk across the mountains, against mine own white and delicate palm, which I afterwards cleansed with a proper proportion of superior Windsor soap. I should have hesitated ere I performed such an achievement on a common individual of his tribe; but I could not resist the honor of shaking the hand of a king-to kiss it would have been another matter, and by no means so attractive an office. Besides, I consider it perfect degradation to kiss the hand of any thing less than a woman, or the toe of any thing less than a Pope.

On hearing I came from England, he made many

polite inquiries after his brother George de King of the Buckra country, hoped he was doing well, and asked me if he was fond of rum. I was not aware, I replied, that our sovereign had ever expressed any particular liking or antipathy to so wholesome a beverage; but supposed it was a drink which his Charaib majesty might be inclined to patronize; whereat he grinned, and said he thought it very good tuff, and, moreover, that all his subjects thought so too.

We had, after this, a long talk together about various other things; and his majesty concluded the conversation by inviting me to go and see him at some future period.

66

About a fortnight after, I rode alone to the Charaib country, and paid a visit to the old gentleman in his little cottage. He made me quite welcome, and asked me to dinner, I staid from mere curiosity, and he gave me some fish and fowl, with a glass of the very good tuff" before-mentioned. The old fellow had still his five wives, but he did not seem to care much for any of them. They cooked his victuals, took care of his fowls, and did any thing else they were told. The Charaibs were always famed for the neglect of their women, and they seem to have preserved this very bad quality above all others. Daniel has still a little authority among his subjects; but their way of living is so peaceable and inoffensive, that there is seldom any occasion for his interference; and, indeed, he is too lazy to trouble himself much with their affairs. Their numbers decrease yearly; and it is probable that in a short time there will be

none left in St. Vincent. They keep completely to themselves, and it is quite a rarity to see one of them in Kingstown.

After having dined, I left his majesty's palace, and in it half a dozen good segars, with which he was excessively pleased, for all his tribe love smoking. He gave me in return a very pretty souple jack, with the head curiously carved. It is not thicker than my thumb, so that in case I am ever married, it will do for my wife when she is in the sulks, or says, "I wont, my dear." It will make an excellent crabstock, which, by the way, is an excellent thing in a case of emergency.

"The wonder-working crabstock."-J. Hughes.

That was a capital song, and Hughes deserves great credit for writing it. I, at least, am very much obliged to him, for it hath taught me a good maxim, and comes in very à propos at the end of my chapter.

U

CHAPTER XXXV.

MISCELLANIES.

"Not much of any thing, but a little of every thing."

THE bells of the estates were ringing, to call the negroes to their work; the sound of the merry conch shells struck upon my ear, as the drivers blew the sonorous blast that summoned their gangs to the field; the bland breeze of the morning passed softly through the trees, the sun was peeping over the eastern hills of St. Vincent, and darting his splendid beams into the green valleys below, the dew was updrawn from the wild flowers that grew by the road side, and the negroes were driving their cattle to the rich pasture lands, when, returning from my morning ride, I beheld the signal for the packet and a sloop, waving in the breeze, on the flagstaff at Dorsetshire Hill. I was glad to see this signal; for the packet had been long expected, and there were now three due in the colony, which had been kept back by contrary winds. I went home and breakfasted; pleasure always sharpens my appetite, so I did ample justice to the roast yam and caviched fish which Mat had taken so much pains to get dressed for me: after which I repaired to the post-office, where I found many others waiting, with anxious looks, for

the opening of the important window from which the letters are delivered.

The scene around a West Indian post-office is by no means uninteresting to an observer, and I have often experienced much pleasure in witnessing it. The sight of the packet from England occasions a great sensation among the colonists; and the moment it makes its appearance in the harbour the post-office is beset with a crowd of visitors of all classes.

The lawyers from their offices, the merchants from their stores, the officers from their garrison, the soldiers from their barracks, the captains from their ships, and the planters from their estates, all flock thither, and wait, with the greatest impatience and anxiety, to hear the news in the mother country, to receive their letters from home.

and

Here, walking to and fro beneath the covered gallery, or taking their seats on the benches, they converse together on various topics, until the opening of the first window, which announces that the newspapers are ready for delivery; then they rush like soldiers to charge, as eager for their papers as troops are for victory: the parcels are opened in a moment, the news spreads like a pestilence in a plague-struck city; and before ten minutes have passed away every one is acquainted with what is going on at home.

This word at home is the common expression of the West India settlers. England, Scotland, or Ireland is still their home. Unlike the inhabitants of

the French colonies, they look upon the island in