St. Paul’s has a chapel-of-ease in English Harbour; which was, in truth, a private dwelling-house, but now, disencumbered of its partitions, serves as a chapel, and is capable, it is said, of affording accommodation for 350 persons; during the week, it is appropriated to the use of an infant school.

The whole of Falmouth is thickly studded with clumps of acacia, privet, and prickly pear; all of which are of the thorny family, and if report be true, serve the inhabitants instead of pins. Between Falmouth and English Harbour lies a marshy thickly covered with sand, and dotted about with groups of mangrove-trees, in all their glittering, green foliage, forming so many oases in the midst of a burning desert. The sea overflows this spot at times, and leaves its tribute in the shape of small shells and bunches of sea-weed.

Opposite to Falmouth, looking across the waters of the harbour, a bold promontory stretches out into the ocean, to which has been given the name of “Black’s Point.” As it belongs to a gentleman of that name, it is generally supposed in Antigua, to derive its cognomen from that cause. Such supposition is, however, incorrect, for it is laid down in an old chart of the island as “Black’s Point” long before its present possessor came into existence. The real origin of its bearing that appellation is from the fact of its having been the place where it was customary to land the cargoes of newly-imported negroes, prior to the abolition of the slave trade; and from this circumstance the name it now bears was given to it.

Falmouth Harbour is considered one of the best in Antigua, and is capable of affording safe anchorage for ships in those times of danger to which the West Indies are exposed. The shores of the bay boast their silver fringe of sand, which is often selected by the parent turtle, as a place of safety, in which to deposit her two or three hundred eggs; and when the sun has performed the duties of incubation, which the lethargic mother refuses to perform, numbers of these little creatures may be seen, crawling towards their favourite element, where they feast and fatten, until, perhaps, in after-years, they are doomed to increase the table store of some Antiguan gourmand, or, perchance, find their way to England, and tickle the palate of “the lord mayor, and the other city authorities” within the sound of Bow bells.

Old Road (or Carlisle Road, as it was once called) and St. Mary’s church having been already described, in our “pilgrimage to Tom Moore’s Spring,” it remains for me, in the next place, to mention Bridgetown, or Willoughby Bay, as it is more frequently termed. Here, again, I have the task of describing, what is almost a nondescript, for no stranger would ever discover that it was a town unless the fact were pointed out to him. If the man who painted a lion was obliged to write under it, “This is a lion,” I am sure the person who huddled the three or four houses together, which constitutes Bridgetown, had need to have put upon a giant-like placard, “This is a town!” unless, indeed, a rather good-looking Methodist chapel, a small mission-house, a stone dwelling-house, with school-room attached, and a few of my four-cornered friends, stuck in here and there, like the dots in a landscape of some country painter, to represent crows, be sufficient to merit for it that lofty title, which Dr. Johnson, or some other lexicographer of equal renown, leads us to suppose signifies “a large collection of houses.”

As regards the population of this town, (I like to give places their proper names,) I can give but little information. With the exception of the very kind-hearted superintendant of the Wesleyan schools, Mr. Charles Thwaites, and his equally amiable wife, their very pretty little boy, one or two domestics, and their scholars of every shade, the only inhabitants I saw were flocks of black-headed gulls, busily employed in following their piscatory avocations; a few half-starved looking sheep, vainly endeavouring to screen themselves from the fiery beams of the sun beneath the leafless branches of some blighted shrubs; and three or four long-necked, screaming birds, known in this part of the world as gorlings, and which derive their subsistence from the same source as their neighbours, the gulls.

After resting for a short time at the superintendant’s dwelling, we proceeded to the school-room, a most commodious apartment, measuring 50ft. by 48ft., and capable of containing 500 persons. The whole of this establishment, including the superintendant’s house, which is detached, was erected by the Church Missionary Society; but after being used by them for a short time, it was turned over to the “Ladies’ Society,” to whom it still belongs, although the Wesleyan Mission holds its school there.

The school-room was but thinly attended upon the day of our visit, there not being more than 40 children​—​the usual number is about 100. Upon our entrance, they all rose up with “We’ll make our obeisance together, as children ought to do,” and then, quitting their raised seats, formed into double lines, their teacher at their head, and marched round the apartment to the tune of one of their infant rhymes. After performing many martial-like evolutions, they finally arranged themselves into a deep phalanx, and thus sang another of their little songs. Many of them are proficients in reading the scriptures, and are well versed in the historical parts of them. I hope and trust the education so liberally bestowed upon them, and above all, the religious instruction which they receive, may benefit their after-conduct, and lead them to do their duty in that sphere of life in which it has pleased their Creator to place them. I was much pleased to learn from Mr. Thwaites that, in almost every instance, the pupils who have left the schools under his charge have followed agricultural employments. To a country whose grand resource, and, indeed, entire dependence, is placed upon the cultivation of the sugar-cane, this conduct upon the part of its rising generation must be very important; and if the lower classes continue to do so, and not, because they are free, despise the hoe, Antigua may stand forth as pre-eminently flourishing among the other West Indian colonies.

Mr. Thwaites is the paid superintendant of all the Wesleyan country schools. His salary is 150l. sterling per annum, a small recompence (although quite as liberal as the mission can afford) for the constant care his responsible situation calls for, and which he performs with untiring zeal. For about twenty-nine years has this good man been employed in providing for the mental wants of the black population, and in endeavouring to lead their young minds to the only fount of real knowledge. Unmindful of passing events he has kept on his irksome task, (for irksome it must be to drive knowledge into the brains of some of these little negroes,) buoyed up by his feelings of deep philanthropy.

The first few years of his employment were passed without receiving any reward, but the approval of his own conscience. As, however, his laudable exertions became known, he was engaged by the “Church Missionary Society,” whose interests he faithfully served for near ten years. Since that period he has been in the employ of the Wesleyan mission. Although from being such a valuable auxiliary in rearing “the infant mind,” and teaching “the young idea how to shoot,” the bishop would gladly have retained his services, provided he gave up all connexion with the Methodists.