DOMINICA. 3 
crest of the mountain-ridge that showed in the dis- 
tance cool and misty; but as day advanced, and the 
hour of noon arrived, the cool hours of morning were 
more than compensated for by the intensity of the 
-heat radiated from the glassy sea, —a heat that made 
itself felt with a glare that caused every one on board 
to seek earnestly a shady spot. 
And this was the “tropic sea” on-which we were 
drifting, —the sea so often sung by the poet, the sea 
we had often contemplated in our fanciful dreaming 
in more northern climes. Like many afi object of 
the poet’s adoration, it is far pleasanter to look upon 
through his eyes than through visual rgans of your 
own. Though the sun and sea made it painful to 
look abroad, there was nothing offensively new and 
glaring about the little sloop, that wearied the eye 
with bright colors. The prevailing color, in fact, 
was that of the wood of which it was built, the native 
wood of the island. The knees were of the natural 
twist and bend of the native trees; the deck planking 
and sheathing were likewise of the native wood; the 
mast, the boom, and the bowsprit were of the native 
woods of the island; and captain and crew, doubt- 
less, also from the woods,— natives fresh from the 
native woods of Dominica. There were more than 
twenty people of color lounging in various attitudes 
about the deck. They seemed wholly indifferent to 
the fact that the vessel was drifting with them away 
from the island; and when I suggested to the cap- 
tain that he utilize this material at the oars, there 
was a general howl of indignation. The captain 
also gazed at me like one who had heard informa- 
tion of a character novel and startling, and informed 
