157 



council of protection, and examine into the in- 

 juries of which they had complained to me. 



February 1. (Thursday.) 

 I left Cornwall for Spanish Town at six in the 

 morning, accompanied by a young naval officer, the 

 son of my next neighbour, Mr. Hill of Amity, who 

 not only w r as good enough to lend me a kittereen, 

 with a canopy, to perform my journey, but his son 

 to be my cicerone on my tour. The road wound 

 through mountain passes, or else on a shelf of 

 rock so narrow — though without the slightest 

 danger — that one of the wheels was frequently 

 in the sea, while my other side was fenced by a 

 line of bold broken cliffs, clothed with trees 

 completely from their brows down to the very 

 edge of the water. Between eight and nine we 

 reached a solitary tavern, called Blue-fields, where 

 the horses rested for a couple of hours. It had a 

 very pretty garden on the sea- shore, which con- 

 tained a picturesque cottage, exactly resembling 

 an ornamental Hermitage ; and leaning against 

 one of the pillars of its porch we found a young 

 girl, who exactly answered George Colman's de- 

 scription of Yarico, " quite brown, but extremely 

 genteel, like a Wedgewood teapot." She told us 

 that she was a Spanish creole, who had fled with 

 her mother from the disputes between the royalists 

 and independents in the island of Old Providence; 

 and the owner of the tavern being a relation of 



