The central Presbyterian. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1856-1908, 1868-10-28

seeking through me to send the bread OF life
to the dying millions of the South.
This morning | was aroused by my next
door neighbor, and told to look out OF my
window, or rather port-hole, at the and-the
first we had seen for seven days. OF course
was up in moment and peerng through the
haze of the morning at the succession OF CLIFFS
hills, and mountains, which rise abruptly from
the sea. and form The Island of st. Thomas.
! soon had on my clothes, and was on deck to
get look at the city of the same name. a
little after sunrise We rounded headland ana
came in full and sudden view of the harbor and
city-the harbor surrounded on three sides by
high hills-the city, at the end OF the harbor'
built ON three of the loftiest of these hills,
which rises into considerable mountain at Its
back. The city itself, and all its surroundings
are picturesque enough. The houses are all
built of stone, covered with low tin roofs
painted red, giving the place very uniform
appearance. A Danish fort, bearing nag with
a white cross in red ground, and mounted
with canon, frowns upon you from either side
of the harbor On the western hill Is tall
white pole, on which it is said the last OF the
West Indian pirates was hanged on the east
ern, rises solitary and conspicuous, the verlta
BILE castleo the nursery Blue Beard
Within the city itself an American could not
fail to be entertained The streets are some
what broader than the pavement on Pennsyl-
vania Avenue The people walk in the middle
of the streets for want of side walk. The
inhabitants are from all quarters of the globe,
and all seem to speak English. The men Tor
the most part dress in spotess white linen.
The streets are crowded with negroes-some
busy, many doing nothing-the negro women
sauntering about under the cover OF broad
brimmed hats.
In the harbor, shipmen are still busy on the
wrecks caused by the great hurricane OF last
November. During that dreadful Storm you
remember, there we're eghty-four vessels lost.
You can still see bulls of large ships lying
along the shore, high and dry-the smoke
stacks and broken masts of others rising above
the surface of the water, and some forlorn
looking steamships which have just been raised
from the bottom of the food. Twenty days
after this destructive hurricane, commenced
the great earth quake which lasted for months.
During portion of this time the city was
abandoned. The people fled to the nelghbor
ing hills and lived in tents. But you have al
ready had accounts of these stirring events.
The bald hills of st. Thomas are entirely
uncultivated. They were once covered with
fine sugar plantations; but now its only value
consists in its fine harbor.
At this place we put ashore one OF our most
distinguished passengers-a German Catholic
Priest, who is to take charge of the church in
the city. For several days after we left New
York, we had nothing to say to each other
On one occasion, however, we were sitting or
the same bench, | was reading Fletcher and
Kidder. We commenced talking about the
hook. He had never read it. He took 1t II
his hands ard turned over the pages-said il
was written by Protestant who knew nothing
about what he was writing. L did not make
any defence of the author. Presently his eye
fell on sentence about the distribution o
Bibles DIV the missionary CocleIy. hc aSh0'
me what good the Bibles would do the people
who received them. From this We launched
in a discussion of the various questions between
us and the rRomanist He waxed very angr,
and became very abusive before We go
through. | could hardly believe, heretofore
that the bigotEy, untairaess, Intolerance. q y
fblasphemy usually ascribed to Romanist priests
ever existed in any one now. But now | believe
that exaggeration on this SUBJECTS impossible
But enough of the priest.
1t is now the evening Of the first day OF Sep
TENDER. The weather continues fine. To da
saw for the first time the sea as smooth a
glass. We are just passing the beautiful
Island of Martinique with its towers, ant
green sugar plantations, and lofty mountains
But l must close my rambling letter.
am, my dear sir,
Yours in Christ Jesus.
G.. NASH MORTON.