Two Years in the French West Indies

m wind blowing. There is a long swell. Under this trade-breeze, warm like a human breath, the ocean seems to pulse,-to rise and fall as with a vast inspiratio

which lift us cannot be seen;-it is because the summits of these swel

confesses this is almost the color of tropical water.... Weeds floating by, a little below the surface, are

nith. Clothing feels now almost too heavy to endure; and the warm wind brings a languor with it as of temptation.... One feels an irresistible desire to drowse on deck-the rushing speech of waves, the long rocking of the ship, the lukewarm caress of the wind, urge

caresses of wind and sobbing of waters, Nature seems to confess some passional mood. Passengers converse of pleasant tempting things,-tropical fruits, tropical beverages, tropical mountain-bree

e to be clewed up, and wind-sails taken in;-still, there are no white-caps,-only the en

is no gloaming. The days have already become shorter.... Through the open ports, as we lie down to sleep, comes a great