On re-ascending the hill, we called at the Society's school. There are usually in attendance about one hundred children, since the abolition of slavery. Near the school-house is the chapel of the estate, a neat building, capable of holding three or four hundred people. Adjacent to the chapel is the burial ground for the negroes belonging to the Society's estate. We noticed several neat tombs, which appeared to have been erected only a short time previous. They were built of brick, and covered over with lime, so as to resemble white marble slabs. On being told that these were erected by the negroes themselves over the bodies of their friends, we could not fail to note so beautiful an evidence of their civilization and humanity. We returned to the Society's estate, where we exchanged our saddles for the phaeton, and proceeded on our eastward tour. 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"