About a stone’s throw from “Old Road,” on the top of the hill, stands a Moravian settlement, with its neat white house and chapel; there is always an air of comfort around these settlements, which speaks to an English heart; and the Moravians themselves are a quiet, well-meaning people, diligent in the discharge of their ministerial duties, and earnestly desiring their people’s welfare. May they meet their reward! After passing the fort of “Old Road,” the next place which attracted our notice was the salt ponds, with their fringe of mangrove trees and little islands. Innumerable soldier crabs were hurrying to and fro,—some looking out for a new coat of mail, in the form of a new shell, and others hunting for their prey, which is very frequently the weak and small of their own class. The sea now burst upon our sight, and added to the beauty of the scene; its surface was as smooth and clear as a mirror, except where the breakers played over a long reef, which runs far out from shore, and threw up their lovely but dangerous spray in measured showers,—no wonder the ancients fabled their goddess of beauty to have sprung from this sparkling object. After passing the rectory of St. Mary’s, our road lay through copses, whose overhanging boughs formed a beautiful and verdant arch. The sunbeams, penetrating through them, danced in sportive glee upon the chequered ground, while between the boles we caught picturesque glimpses of the ocean. I could not help noticing one peculiarity in passing through these woods, that almost every tree is decorated with that species of parasite called wild pines;[64] the great varieties of cactus was also remarkable. After journeying along the road for about a mile, we came in view of “Crab Hill,” noted for the dangers it presents to travellers, should their horses prove restive, or night overtake them. Here again we alighted, determined that nothing should escape our gaze. The road rises about 180 feet from the sea, in an abrupt precipice clothed with the dwarf acacia and “milk-bush”—those ever-to-be-found productions of Antigua. A low wall of stones, loosely piled, borders the edge of the road, which would prove but a sorry guard against any accident. In the steepest part of the hill, we looked over, and watched in silence the beautiful but treacherous waves, as they laved the rocky base of the precipice. Here and there a blasted parasite clung to it, and feebly strove to hide its ugliness; and one or two sea-birds sat watching for their prey, and pluming their rumpled feathers. At the sound of our voices they started, and after turning upon us their bright quick eyes for a moment, as if to ask why we obtruded upon their solitude, flapped their wings and soared screaming away through the vaulted ether.