2 THE VOYAGE. 
kind) outside a show. From the time of her ap- 
pearance in the morning until her bedtime, she 
invariably sat in one place—her throne a small 
sofa, behind the cabin-door. Flying-fish were 
constantly driven on the deck of the steamer, or 
flung up into the sponsons by the paddlewheels ; 
and being most anxious to preserve some of these 
curious tenants of the ocean, I tried every means 
to procure them; but the ‘stout party,’ by re- 
sorting to most unjustifiable bribing, so enslaved 
the sordid mind of the steward, that he got hold 
of the fish in spite of me, and actually had the 
delicate beauties cooked, and ignominiously fried 
at the galley-fire, for that terrible old lady to eat. 
With regret and indignation I have watched her 
munching them up, and wickedly longed to see 
her prostrated by that terrible leveller seasick- 
ness, or the victim of dyspepsia—evil wishes of no 
avail: she ate on, in healthful hungry defiance of 
wind and waves, and the wrath of an injured 
naturalist. 
The first peep one gets of the little Danish 
town of St. Thomas, too well known to need 
more than a casual notice, is picturesque and 
pretty. Built on the scarp of a steep hill, its 
houses arranged in terraces, and all painted with 
bright and gaudy colours; its feathery groves of 
