“You know Europe?” I asked.
“I lived in England ten years,” he replied. “I have been to many of the continental capitals. But my heart has always been in Jamaica. I like my own people best. We live a happier life than any European people, and we are cleaner in our mode of living.”
“Yet,” I ventured, “the majority of the children born on the island are illegitimate.”
“True,” he admitted, “but have you seen in Kingston, or anywhere else in the island, any traces of an immorality to equal the wickedness of London, Paris, or Berlin?”
I took refuge in the remark. “If you are so happy why change your condition; why attempt to alter your system of Government, why attempt to become an independent nation?”
“Because we have ambition, and because it is good for any nation that its children shall be eligible for the highest honours the nation can give. As a people we cannot be perfectly happy while we know that another race has drawn a chalk circle, as it were, round us, and has said, Thus far you may go, but not beyond. The possibility of maintaining a permanent minority in the legislative council is the chalk mark.”
“How long will it be,” I ventured, “before the chalk mark is erased?”
“That I cannot say and do not care to guess.
