l8o CAMPS IN THE CARIBBEES. 



Martinique. Poisonous and venomous, it has yearly 

 many victims, and is more feared than the fever, 

 for which Castries, St. Lucia's principal town, is 

 celebrated. 



Crossing the channel south of St. Lucia, we arrived 

 in the afternoon off the northern end of St. Vincent, 

 which, from the steamer's deck, five miles off shore, 

 appeared a dream of an island, suspended between 

 sky and sea, yet solid and compact. As we glided 

 through the blue waters, and the afternoon sun fell 

 upon the island, we could view it from northern to 

 southern end, one block of hazy, purple cloud, an 

 immense amethyst, with shades and depths that varied 

 as the sun lighted up the yellow plains and dark 

 mountain-tops, and sought to penetrate the sombre 

 valleys and ravines. Behind a curving beach a little 

 town showed out, with red-tiled roofs gleaming from 

 beneath thick groves of palms, through which a church 

 pointed its spire skyward. There were no outlying 

 rocks or islands, no jagged cliffs or jutting promon- 

 tories, but, springing at once from the sea, every angle 

 sharp and clear-cut, the island presented the appear- 

 ance of a huge, opaque crystal. Though twenty- 

 five miles in length, it appeared so small that one 

 might fancy he could row around it in an hour 

 or two. 



At five in the afternoon we entered Kingston harbor, 

 a bay open to the west and south-west, deep and spa- 

 cious enough to float a navy. A sandy beach curves 

 from headland to headland, and upon the northern 

 promontory, six hundred feet above the bay, is perched 

 a fort with massive walls, now used as a light-house 

 and signal station. A jetty affords a landing-place 



