The late Sir Evan Murray McGregor, then governor of Barbados, hearing of the necessities of the Antiguans, (over whom he had formerly held sway in the character of commander-in-chief of the Leeward Islands,) sent a man-of-war with a cargo of this precious element from that island; but under some pretence or the other, it was refused by the legislature. The cause of this extraordinary line of conduct was said to be this. Sir Evan was not generally a favourite governor with the aristocratic party: he was a man of strict principles, and one who poised the scales of justice with an impartial hand between rich and poor, white and coloured. He would not herd with the _great people_—go to their houses, eat their corn-fed mutton and turtle, drink their _Château Margeau_ and Champagne, and then wink at their proceedings, and gloss over their errors, like some of his predecessors. Upon this account he was not liked, and when in the kindness of his heart he sent the present of water, it was refused in a very cold manner. Some of the members of the assembly were against this arrangement, and said, for the honour of Antigua, that they would rather have lost double the amount than it should have been returned. But to return more particularly to the drought. Not only did the inhabitants suffer from want of water to drink, and for general use, but the country provisions, such as yams, potatoes, &c., upon which the negroes principally depend, unavoidably failed; and as all importations were raised so much in price, the lower classes were almost starved. The planters endured great inconvenience, not only from the dryness of the soil, which ruined the sugar-canes, but also from having to pay the same number of labourers their regular wages, without having anything for them to do, yet at the same time being obliged to retain them, lest when the wet season did come, and their assistance was really required, they might not be procurable. I heard a circumstance related which occasioned a smile, even in this time of distress. A certain good lady of St. John’s sent one of her domestics to the sea side for a pail of salt water. It happened to be ebb-tide,[66] and upon the servant returning, she exclaimed to her mistress, the greatest astonishment being depicted upon her countenance, “Why missis, war you tink? It dry so till sea himself dry now. War eber we go do, me no no.” Oh! how anxiously did we watch the barometer day after day, in hopes of its indicating rain. The inhabitants of the different parts of the island meeting one another, the first question asked was, “What weather have you had? do you think we are likely to get any rain?”