ANTIGUA.
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road, and seemed fixed on purpose there to defend the matchless purple-wreaths or lilac jessamines, which softened the dark foliage amongst which they hung, from being plucked by the hand of the admiring traveller. Meanwhile a vigorous song of birds arose, and made the silent defde ring with the clear morning sound of European warblers, in the midst of which, and ever and anon, some unseen single creature uttered a longdrawn quivering note, which struck upon my ear with the richness and the melancholy of a human voice. Many persons have remarked the extraordinary tones of this bird, but I could not learn any name for it. It is the love-lorn nightingale of a silent tropic noon. Antigua depends, generally, for its water upon the rain collected in tanks; and those who have been long accustomed to the insipidity of this beverage can, with great difficulty, reconcile themselves to the rough vivacity produced by the earthy particles in common pump water. It is, however, a mistake of Bryan Edwards to say that there are no springs in this island; a remarkably sweet and transparent one is to be found on the left-hand side of the road, at some little distance before the descent of Figtree Hill. If you are nice, you should take a glass tumbler to see the precious liquor sparkle; otherwise there is an antique negro always croning hard by who will lend you a clean