Mr. C. took us out of the way a few miles to show us one of the few curiosities of which Barbadoes can boast.  It is called the “Horse.”  The shore for some distance is a high and precipitous ledge of rocks, which overhangs the sea in broken cliffs.  In one place a huge mass has been riven from the main body of rock and fallen into the sea.  Other huge fragments have been broken off in the same manner.  In the midst of these, a number of steps have been cut in the rock for the purpose of descending to the sea.  At the bottom of these steps, there is a broad platform of solid rock, where one may stand securely, and hear the waves breaking around him like heavy thunders.  Through the fissures we could see the foam and spray mingling with the blue of the ocean, and flashing in the sunshine.  To the right, between the largest rock and the main land, there is a chamber of about ten feet wide, and twenty feet long.  The fragment, which forms one of its sides, leans towards the main rock, and touches it at top, forming a roof, with here and there a fissure, through which the light enters.  At the bottom of the room there is a clear bed of water, which communicates with the sea by a small aperture under the rock.  It is as placid as a summer pond, and is fitted with steps for a bathing place.  Bathe, truly! with the sea ever dashing against the side, and roaring and reverberating with deafening echo.

On a granite slab, fixed in the side of the rock at the bottom of the first descent is an inscription.  Time has very much effaced the letters, but by the aid of Mr. C.’s memory, we succeeded in deciphering them.  They will serve as the hundred and first exemplification of the Bonapartean maxim—­“There is but one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.”

  “In this remote, and hoarse resounding place,
   Which billows clash, and craggy cliffs embrace,
   These babbling springs amid such horrors rise,
   But armed with virtue, horrors we despise. 
   Bathe undismayed, nor dread the impending rock,
   ’Tis virtue shields us from each adverse shock.

GENIO LOCI SACRUM POSUIT J.R.  MARTIS MENSE 1769”

From the “Crane,” which is the name given to that section of the country in which the “Horse” is situated, we bent our way in a southerly direction to the Ridge estate, which was about eight miles distant, where we had engaged to dine.  On the way we passed an estate which had just been on fire.  The apprentices, fearing lest their houses should be burnt, had carried away all the moveables from them, and deposited them in separate heaps, on a newly ploughed field.  The very doors and window shutters had been torn off and carried into the field, several acres of which were strewed over with piles of such furniture.  Mr. C. was scarcely less struck with this scene than we were, and he assured us that he had never known such providence manifested on a similar occasion during slavery.