To
my dear friend
Camille Olivia Elisabeth G. DeL,
I dedicate this little book.
To you, and to you alone, these little sketches of West Indian life of right belong, for without you they would certainly have remained for ever floating in the vague annals of negro life. You will remember how they began.
Often as we drove along the dusty lanes, and passed the picturesque little negro huts, round which children of all shades and sizes played, you would say, "How I wish I knew the daily life of this strange people! What are their wants and cares, their joys and sorrows?"
Your words set me thinking, and
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