Six months in the West-Indies, in 1825

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MONTSERRAT. cleared in the midst of the impenetrable virgin woods of tropical regions. No difference of soil or situation can be the cause; you may lean your back against the frontier tree of a forest which no axe or torch hath ever invaded, and stretch your body on the meadow turf where scarcely a weed can be seen. There is no man to fell these trees or divert their growth; there is no hedge or wall or trench to impede their march; but God said to the Forest as he said to the Sea, Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther.' The view was beautiful: behind me the woody mountain rose into the clouds, before me it descended in a long grassy slope to the edge of the sea; on my left hand to the south, the broad and irregular eminences of Guadaloupe presented the appearance of a continent; to the north Redonda shone like an emerald in the midst of the blue waves, and beyond it stood the great pyramid of Nevis, cut off from sight at one-third from its summit by an ever-resting canopy of clouds. The wind was so fresh, the air so cool, the morning-dew so healthy and spangling, that I m i g h t have forgotten, but for the deep beauty that was around me, that I was still within the tropics. I seemed to have left all languor and listlessness below, and really felt for a season the strength, the spirits, and the elasticity of youthful life in England. At this spot I and my companion (and he was a very pleasant one) tied our horses to a tree and began to de-


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