sentence particularly. It smacked so strongly of miles
of red tape and months of official delay.

When we reached St. Christopher, it was currently reported that the
Governor's own clerk had simply come to settle a dispute between two
negro landowners concerning a fragment of the island rather smaller than
a table-napkin; but personally I doubt not this was a blind, under cover
of which he secretly pushed forward those pending negotiations. He
certainly had fine diplomatic instincts, and a sound view, from a
political standpoint, of the value of veracity.

When we cast out anchor off Basseterre, St. Christopher, the Treasure
hurried to me in some sorrow. He had proposed going ashore, with his
Enchantress and her mother, to show them the sights, but now, to his
dismay, he found that unforeseen official duties would keep him on the
ship during our brief sojourn here. With anxiety almost pathetic,
therefore, he entrusted the Enchantress to me, and commended her mother
to the Doctor's care. I felt the compliment, and assured him that I
would simply devote myself to her--platonically withal; but the Doctor
was not quite so hearty about her mother. However, he must behave like
a gentleman, whether he felt inclined to do so or not, which the
Treasure knew, and, therefore, felt safe.

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."

[Illustration: "'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