Our party of four started straightway for a ramble in St. Kitts (as St. Christopher is more generally called), and, upon landing, we were happily met by a middle-aged negro, who had evidently watched our boat from afar. He tumbled off a pile of planks, where he had been basking in the sun, girt his indifferent raiment about him, and then, by sheer force of character, took complete command of our contemplated expedition. It may have been hypnotism, or some kindred mystery, but we were unresisting children in his hands. He said: “Follow me, gem’men: me show you ebb’ryting for nuffing: de ’tanical Garns, de prison-house, de public buildings, de church, an’ all. Dis way, dis way, ladies. Don’t listen to dem niggers; dey nobody on dis island.”
“‘follow me, gem’men!’”
The Doctor alone fought feebly, but it was useless, and, in two minutes, our masterful Ethiop had led us all away to see the sights.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Jefferson, sar; ebb’rybody know Jefferson. Fus’, we go to ’tanical Garns. Here dey is.”
The Botanical Gardens of Basseterre, St. Kitts, were handsome, extensive, and well cared for. We wandered with pleasure down broad walks, shaded by cabbage palms and palmettos, mahogany and tamarind trees; we admired the fountain and varied foliage and blazing flower-beds, streaked and splashed with many brilliant blossoms and bright-leaved crotons.
“There,” said the mother of the Enchantress, pointing to a handsome lily, “is a specimen of Crinum Asiaticum.”
The Doctor started as though she had used a bad word. He hates a woman to know anything he does not, and this botanical display irritated him; but our attention was instantly distracted by Jefferson, who, upon hearing the lily admired, walked straight up to it and picked it.
