le ourselves.
The English constituencies have no rights over the constituencies of
Canada and Australia, for the Canadians and Australians are as well able
to manage their own affairs as we are to manage ours. If they prefer
even to elect governors of their own, let them do as they please. The
link between us is community of blood and interest, and will not part
over details of administration. But in these other colonies which are
our own we must accept the facts as they are. Those who will not
recognise realities are always beaten in the end.

The train from Porus brought us back to Kingston an hour before sunset.
The evening was lovely, even for Jamaica. The sea breeze had fallen. The
land breeze had not risen, and the dust lay harmless on road and hedge.
Cherry Garden, to which I was bound, was but seven miles distant by the
direct road, so I calculated on a delightful drive which would bring me
to my destination before dark. So I calculated; but alas! for human
expectation. I engaged a 'buggy' at the station, with a decent-looking
conductor, who assured me that he knew the way to Cherry Garden as well
as to his own door. His horse looked starved and miserable. He insisted
that there was not another in Kingston that was more than a match for
it. We set out, and for the first two or three miles we went on well
enough, conversing amicably upon things in general. But it so happened
that it was again market day. The road was thronged as before with women
plodding along with their baskets on their heads, a single male on a
donkey to each detachment of them, carrying nothing, like an officer
with a company of soldiers. Foolish indignation rose in me, and I asked
my friend if he was not ashamed of seeing the poor creatures toiling so
cruelly, while their lords and masters amused themselves. I appealed to
his feelings as a man, as if it was likely that he had got any. The
wretch only laughed. 'Ah, massa,' he said, with his tongue in his cheek,
'women do women's work, men do men's work--all right.' 'And what is
men's work?' I asked. Instead of answering he went on, 'Look at they
women, massa--how they laugh--how happy they be! Nobody more happy than
black woman, massa.' I would not let him off. I pricked into him, till
he got excited too, and we argued and contradicted each other, till at
last the horse, finding he was not attended to, went his own way and
that was a wrong one. Between Kingston and our destination there is a