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are too shocking to yield delight either to the writer or the reader. I shall therefore hereafter only mention such as incidently befel myself in the course of my adventures.
In the variety of departments in which I was employed by my master, I had an opportunity of seeing many curious scenes in different islands; but, above all, I was struck with a celebrated curiosity called Brimstone-hill, which is a high and steep mountain, some few miles from the town of Plymouth, in Montserrat. I had often heard of some wonders that were to be seen on this hill, and I went once with some white and black people to visit it. When we arrived at the top, I saw under different cliffs great flakes of brimstone, occasioned by the steams of various little ponds, which were then boiling naturally in the earth. Some of these ponds were as white as milk, some quite blue, and many others of different colours. I had taken some potatoes with me, and I put then into different ponds, and in a few minutes they were well boiled. I tasted some of them, but they were very sulphureous; and the silver shoe-buckles, and all the other things of that metal we had among us, were in a little time turned as black as lead.
Whilst I was in the island, one night I felt
