The Hurricane in St. Vincent. 6i 
beams, rafters, huge boughs, and even trees themselves 
hurled through the air with the rapidity of birds in their 
flight. I saw also many of the poor negroes struggling 
along the roads, catehing hold of the canes, grass or 
brushwood to support them — sometimes stooping to the 
violence of the wind, at others compelled to fall pros- 
trate on the ground. All our beautiful fields which had 
promised an abundant harvest, and the luxuriance of 
which I had pointed out to a friend only the day before, 
were levelled to the earth. Here I stood at the entrance, 
and beckoned to the poor negroes to seek our asylum as 
the place of greatest security, and as they severally 
reached us I caused them to pace backwards and for- 
wards in the cave to excite some little degree of warmth, 
and to avoid the dangerous effects of remaining so long 
in their wet garments. As the storm decreased in vio- 
lence, I left the cave with one attendant, and clambering 
over the ruins of the house, and entering through the 
chasm in my own chamber, I sought amongst the 
heaps of rubbish something of refreshment for my 
poor prisoners in the cave. I succeeded in discovering 
on a ledge, which, fortunately leaned outwards, two 
bottles of cordial, (Danish cherry-brandy which had been 
sent as a present a dav or two before), then finding a small 
mug I retraced my steps and was able to give each indi- 
vidual a cordial draught. This done I instantly descended 
the hill, the storm abating in violence every moment, 
and I found our large curing and store house which is 90 
feet in length, the extensive cellars beneath it, and the 
boiling hcuse which is also 90 feet long, perfectly safe 
and uninjured. I immediately decided upon adopting 
what appeared to me the most judicious measures under 
