In looking over the accounts of different countries, everyone must be struck with the propensity man has of indulging in spirituous liquors. While the inhabitants of fruitful and sunny districts imbibe the luscious juice of the grape, the Kamtschadale ranges his barren and inhospitable clime in search of a species of grass, from which to obtain a supply of fermented drink. The Tartar, in his wild state, roaming from pasture to pasture, placing his whole wealth in his horses and cattle, silently enjoys the intoxicating qualities of his brandy procured from the milk of his mares, and sighs not for the richest cup ever quaffed by the lip of mortals. So likewise the Carib was not without his stimulants—his festive board was not without its cup. From the bark of the palm and cocoa-nut tree, they procured a liquor clear as crystal, which they allowed to ferment, and of which they were very fond; but their principal drink was mobby, made from the sweet potatoe, (a native of this island,) which they also drank in a fermented state. But still drunkenness was not one of their crimes; it was reserved for their conquerors to teach them that vice. We are told of an old Carib addressing a planter in the following manner—“Our people are become almost as bad as yours. We are so much altered since you came among us, that we hardly know ourselves; and we think it is owing to so melancholy a change that the hurricanes are more frequent than they were formerly. It is an evil spirit who has done all this; who has taken our best lands from us, and given us up to the dominion of the Christians.” Alas! poor Caribs, it was an evil spirit which had come among you—the evil spirit of lawless and unchristian _men_. Why was your country invaded and your rights trampled on? Why were your wives and children torn from you?—and you yourselves condemned to death?—yea, worse than death—to vile and endless slavery, till time, the end of all things, consigned you to your silent graves?—are questions which will arise, but whose answer can only be given in these words—“What is, is best.”
To resume our description of these ancient possessors of Antigua— these warlike Caribs. Vanity is a passion which to a greater or lesser degree pervades the breast of almost every mortal, and the savage in his native wilds feels the force of it in the same manner, although, perhaps, not to the same _extent_, as the giddy fair who whirls round the vortex of dissipation within the purlieus of May Fair. When first discovered by the Spaniards, the Caribs were habited in different fashions; some appeared in complete dresses of native cloth, stained of a dark red; others had only a cotton girdle rolled round their loins; while others, again, were arrayed in “Nature’s garb.” But although this plain and scanty dress forbid much fancy or variety, they were far from unadorned. Their hair was arranged in a thousand fantastic shapes; some had it braided with small pieces of gold, shells or shining stones; others decorated it with the teeth and bones of their enemies; and some, again, placed large bunches of parrots’ feathers upon the top of the head. Nor were all their decorations confined to their head-dresses; they stained their bodies with various colours, and in a variety of figures, and, as before alluded to, caused themselves much pain in thus ornamenting their persons, by their great propensity for altering their natural features. It does not appear if this was intended to heighten their beauty, and render them captivating in the eyes of the “nice-judging fair,” or if to make them more hideous in the sight of their enemies; but most probably it was for the latter purpose, although it has been said “that women always like the monsters!”