This beautiful effect, one of the wonders of a night in the West Indies, was caused by the fireflies. Of these insects there are two distinct species, one really a small fly which seems to be perpetually on the wing, flitting in and out in the air always, and never at rest; while the other is a species of beetle that is only seen in woody regions, where it takes up a more stationary position, like the glowworm over here. This latter has two large eyes at the back of its head, instead of in front in their more natural place; and these eyes, when the insect is touched, shoot forth two strong streams of greenish light, something like that produced by an electric dynamo, while, at the same time, the entire body of the "firefly," or beetle, becomes as incandescent as a live coal. The light which even one of these little creatures will give out is so great that I have often seen dad, just for the sake of the experiment, read a bit out of a newspaper on a dark evening with a firefly stuck in a wine-glass for a candle! For some time we jogged along silently; but just when we were nearing Mount Pleasant I could not help asking dad what Captain Miles had meant by that question he had asked him about taking me for a voyage. I had been dying to know what the remark referred to ever since I had overheard it, but waited, thinking that dad would tell me of his own accord; so now, as he didn't speak, I had to brave the ordeal of the inquiry. "He wanted to take you home to England to school, Tom," replied dad briefly in an absent sort of way, as if his thoughts were amongst the fireflies. "Really?" said I hesitatingly--"and--" "And, I have not quite made up my mind in the matter yet, Tom. Besides which, there's your mother to be consulted," interposed dad, answering my second question before I could put it. "And if mother does not mind, you will let me go, then, in the _Josephine_ with Captain Miles, eh, dad?" I asked anxiously. "I didn't say so, did I?" said dad quizzingly. "But you meant it, dad, you meant it, I know," cried I exultantly. "Hurrah, I am so glad! I am so glad!" CHAPTER FIVE. GOOD-BYE TO GRENADA! "Are you really so glad to leave us all?" said dad somewhat reproachfully, as I could judge from his tone of voice; for, although the stars and fireflies illumined the landscape sufficiently for us to see our way, the light was too dim for me to observe the expression of his face. "Oh no, dad, not that," I cried out almost with a sob at such an insinuation. "You know, you said I was to go to England this year to school; and, if I must, why I would rather sail in Captain Miles' vessel than any other." "All right, Tom, I did not think you quite so heartless as your exclamation implied," replied dad, still speaking in a sad tone; "but it's only the way of the world, my boy. Young birds are always anxious to leave the parent nest, and you are no exception, I suppose, to the rule."