From St. Thomas we sailed by some small islands and then along the north shore of the island of St. John, through the sound called Virgin's Road, or Sir Francis Drake's Channel, between the Danish and the British Virgins, and anchored for the night at Virgin Gorda, on the southeastern end of this charming sound. The view at sunset and in the afterglow was wonderfully lovely, with its brilliant coloring of sky and water seen between the numerous headlands. That view is beyond the powers of the stereopticon. The Virgins, with their many quiet anchorages, are sure some time to be appreciated highly by yachtsmen. The climate in winter and spring is perfect, not debilitating as Trinidad would be for a long stay. The next day we sailed near to the island of Saba, a great volcanic cone above steep cliffs, and arrived the following morning, January 30th, at Philipsburg, the Dutch port on the island of St. Martin. Its chief export is salt. St. Martin contains thirty-eight square miles, about half belonging to France and half to Holland. In driving across the end of one of the great salt-ponds, the horse got into too deep water, which rose to its back, and we had to release it 9 from the buggy. With my artificial leg, I was left in rather an awkward position. Some girls, however, ran to my assistance, and by their aid the buggy was pulled and pushed safely to land. I was reminded of Galatea aided by the nymphs in her escape from Polyphemus. Most unfortunately, I have no photograph of my nymphs, but well-known pictures of Galatea's adventure will sufficiently illustrate the situation. That afternoon we went in my new ten horsepower launch to the town of Marigot, in the French part of the island, passing first along the shore, then through an intricate coral reef, and then through a large lagoon. Saturday, January 31st, we sailed first to the French island of St. Bartholomew, or St. Barts, where we went, in the launch, about the picturesque little harbor of Gustaf, and then sailed to Basse Terre, St. Christopher, commonly called St. Kitts, an important port of call for many steamers. We drove across the island and back, and sailed to Nevis, formerly the fashionable watering-place of the West Indies in the days when sugar was king. We saw the old stone hotel which cost |