MY WINTEK IN CUBA. 
 
 BT W. M. L. JAY, 
 
 Author of " S7iUo7i." 
 
 
 This country excels all others, as far as the day surpasses the night in brightness 
 and splendor.— Columbus. 
 
 A land of leaf and bloom, 
 Of shining palm and drooping coco-tree, 
 Of spiced mimosa, tremulous bamboo, 
 And giant ceiba, in an air of balm. 
 
 Luto. 
 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 E. P. BUTTON & CO., 713 BROADWAY. 
 
 HARTFORD: CHURCH PRESS. 
 
 1871. 
 

 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by 
 
 E. P. DUTTON & CO., 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 m. h. malloey a co., 
 
 Peintebs and Electbotypebs. 
 
 habtfoed. conn. 
 
 
 %. 
 
/a 
 
 HOJIE-CKROLE, 
 
 j^OR WHOSE pEAR ^YES IT WAS J^IRST WRITTEN, 
 
 ®ljt0 dljrcmtck 
 
 IS RIGHTFULLY DEDICATED. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The personal pronoun " my " in the title of the 
 present work is explanatory, not egotistical. The 
 ""Winter" herein described is mine, and not another's, 
 in that it deals so largely with that domestic side of 
 Cuban life, which few travellers ever see, and whereof 
 none, to my knowledge, have ever written. The 
 reader may find elsewhere more graphic descriptions 
 of Cuba's scenery, combined with accurate tables of 
 her statistics, and profound views of her politics ; but 
 he will find no work that opens to him so frankly the 
 doors of Cuban homes, and allows him to watch the 
 inner currents of Cuban life. JSTor could the present 
 narrative have flowed thus freely across private 
 thresholds, except by the use of fictitious names. 
 There may have been Samanos in Cuba, but I never 
 saw them there. The real names of my kind enter- 
 tainers are stereotyped only on my heart. But, with 
 this slight exception, the narrative may be relied upon 
 as strictly true. 
 
 If it be found to touch but lightly upon matters 
 of policy and government, it is because their present 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 aspect is felt to be so transitory. Enough, has been 
 said to show that the Cubans had cause for revolt; 
 more might cease to be pertinent between the pen and 
 the press. "Whether the present rebellion succeed or 
 no, its ultimate effect can scarcely fail to be beneficial 
 to the Cubans. "Whether that benefit is to come 
 through amelioration of the Spanish, rule, independ- 
 ence, or annexation, it is not worth while to predict. 
 But all those who have felt the fascination of the 
 beautiful island, and keep her fair memory in their 
 hearts, will most devoutly pray that it come soon, and 
 bring with it social, political, and religious regenera- 
 tion. 
 
 Hudson, N. Y., July, 1871. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. Wherefore, 9 
 
 II. The Voyage, . . . . . .• . .12 
 
 III. Landing and Hotel, . . . . . .16 
 
 IV. At the Retreta, 26 
 
 V. The Palace and Plaza, 33 
 
 VI. Within and Without the Walls, ... 39 
 VII. Columbus.— The Cathedral, .... 49 
 
 VIII. The Fish-Market, 61 
 
 IX. Shopping. — Street Sights. — La Fuerza, . . 69 
 
 X. From Havana to Matanzas, . . . ' . 80 
 
 XI. Every Morning, . . . . . . .92 
 
 XII. During the Day, 103 
 
 XIII. Every Evening, 117 
 
 XIV. The Valley of Tumuri, . . . . . .131 
 
 XV. Las Cuevas de Bellamar, 140 
 
 XVI. A Procession, 155 
 
 XVII. A Te Deum, 162 
 
 XVIII. Sunday Seeings and Doings, . . . . 169 
 XIX. The Entrance and Exit of Lent, . . .184 
 
 XX. Cosas de Cuba, 195 
 
 XXI. To Santa Sofia, 211 
 
 XXII. The Ingenio, 217 
 
 XXIII. Plantation Pictures, 227 
 
 XXIV. Fere in the Cane! 247 
 
 XXV. A Cafetal, 252 
 
 XXVI. Bemba and Llmonar, 264 
 
 XXVII. Shadow, 270 
 
 XXVIII. Waiting in Havana, 278 
 
 XXIX. Departure, 293 
 
My "Winter in Cuba. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 WHEEEFOEE. 
 
 a /CHANGE of climate," prescribed the doctor, at 
 the end of his wits and the materia medica. 
 
 I only looked into the fire, and smiled. Bnt the 
 doctor quickly diagnosed the smile, and detected satire. 
 
 ""Well?" said he, in his crisp, no-time-to-waste, 
 professional tone. 
 
 " I was reminded," said I, " of a ludicrous little inci- 
 dent that I witnessed last summer. A frightened ox- 
 team ran away with an empty cart and a drunken 
 driver. After the clumsy vehicle had been violently 
 whisked over logs and rocks, and through bushes and 
 briars, and the unhappy occupant, clutching at the air, 
 alternately rolled from side to side and end to end 
 thereof, the one was upset and the other pitched into a 
 wayside ditch. 'Why didn't you jump out? ' chorused 
 the bystanders, as they picked him up. 'I sh-should 
 just like to know,' hiccoughed he, angrily, 'h-how I 
 could jump out, when I c-couldn't stay in ! ' " 
 1* 
 
10 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 " Oh ! the jumping out can be managed for you," 
 said le cure, benignantly. 
 
 " Certainly," quoth the doctor, with a twinkle in his 
 eye. " Was not the story intended to point the moral 
 that people who can neither stay in nor jump out, must 
 be pitched out ? How would you like to be pitched into 
 Florida, for instance ? " 
 
 I shrugged my shoulders ungraciously. I had all 
 an invalid's reluctance to move out of the narrow orbit 
 wherein he has swung so long as to be at once tired of 
 it and wedded to it. 
 
 " There is Juan's invitation," suggested le cure. 
 
 " Eh ! what ? " said the doctor, discovering a gleam 
 of something like interest in my face. 
 
 " Juan," briefly explained le cure, " is a youth who 
 was consigned to us by a mutual friend, three years 
 ago, with the handsomest of Spanish faces, and the 
 most stubborn of Spanish tongues, to be taught English. 
 He stayed with us two years, became to us as a brother, 
 went hence to Cuba, and is continually entreating one 
 or all of us to visit him there." 
 
 "The very thing!" said the doctor, rising. "Pack 
 up your fig leaves, and be off at once ! " 
 
 "Pray," asked I, "can you tell me whether said 
 leaves should be plucked from a flax plant or a sheep's 
 back?" 
 
 He hesitated, with his hand upon the door-knob. 
 
 "Write to la Clarita" said le cure. "She visited 
 Cuba, you remember." 
 
 The doctor nodded approvingly and shut the door. 
 
WHEREFORE. 11 
 
 This was what la Clarita wrote back : 
 
 " Fig leaves, did you ask ? Those which you shed 
 in the hottest part of last summer — if they are not too 
 faded. The Cuoans, when they outgrow their Eden 
 garment of innocence (which is not so early as sophisti- 
 cated foreigners could wish !), get the summer fashions 
 from Paris, and wear them throughout the year. T" 
 porqui no ?- Have they not summer all the time ? " 
 
 And thus it came to pass that I spent a winter in 
 Cuba, and wrote thereof as follows : — 
 
CHAPTER H.< 
 
 THE VOYAGE. 
 
 TTEAVY clouds brooded above, and the air was 
 thick with snow. It was the dreariest of drear 
 December days. From the deck of the "Eagle," I 
 watched the forms of friends on shore merge and fade 
 in the distance, and their waving handkerchiefs flicker 
 and go out like spent lamps. After them glided the 
 snow-whitened shores of the harbor, the islands, the 
 Narrows ; over me settled a sense of isolation and exile 
 chiller than the snowflakes, and grayer than the gather- 
 ing twilight. Only those who have tasted this one 
 great drop of bitterness in the pleasant cup of foreign 
 travel, can realize how completely, for the trme, it 
 neutralizes every sweetness which Hope and Imagi- 
 nation present to the lips. It seems as if no land, 
 however bright with tropical sunshine, however mossed 
 and garlanded with legend, song, or story, can ever be 
 so fair as that which is fast becoming only a blue line 
 upon the horizon ; and which, when it sinks beneath the 
 wave, seems to have left you homeless in the world. 
 
 For change of scene, temperature, and mood, I went 
 below. A forlorn circle of passengers was drawn round 
 a huge, red stove, which toasted their faces, without 
 
THE VOYAGE. 13 
 
 in the least mitigating the chill at their backs. My 
 stateroom was like an icehouse. Fig leaves, indeed ! I 
 wished that mine had been of sable and otter, six deep ! 
 Fortunately, the good ship "Eagle" had foreseen the 
 want, and provided ample store of blankets. In these 
 I wrapped myself, and wondered how she stood it, with 
 full dress of naught but ropes and spars, and for robe de 
 nuit a wet sheet and a flowing sea ! 
 
 It would seem that every pain turns to something like 
 pleasure in the retrospect. Else, why should sea-voya- 
 gers invariably linger so lovingly, in print, over those 
 pangs of sea-sickness that were so irksome, in fact ! I 
 shall not follow their example further than to state that 
 I spent the two following days under the aforenamed 
 blankets, testing the virtues of various remedies for mal 
 de mer, provided by kind and credulous friends; and 
 that I left a goodly collection of half-emptied phials on 
 the shelf of my berth, for the behoof of any future 
 occupant disposed to try such experiments. May he 
 find the study more pleasing and profitable than I did ! 
 
 During the third night out, there was a rapid 
 increase of temperature ; and the morning was like a 
 morning in mid-June. Through my narrow window I 
 beheld a cloudless sky, a golden shimmer of sunshine, a 
 sea blue and tranquil as an inland lake. The stateroom 
 grew insufferably hot and stuffy ; I was fain to take a 
 pillow and drag myself to the upper deck, which was 
 roofed with an awning, furnished with chairs, and so 
 transformed into a kind of sky-parlor. Here were 
 grouped many of the passengers, — the ladies enjoying 
 
14 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 chat, books, and fancy-work, the gentlemen, political 
 discussions and cigars ; with here and there a pale and 
 spiritless individual, like myself, caring to do nothing 
 but gaze at sea and sky and far-off glimpses of shore. 
 
 Nearly all day, we were in sight of the Florida 
 coast, studded with islands, and broken by such deep 
 indentations that, at times, it seemed to be coming out 
 to meet us, showing distinctly a low sweep of sand- 
 beach, and a thick fringe of evergreen oaks ; and anon 
 receding to only a faint line in the distance. The 
 rising of clouds from the ocean is a singular and inter- 
 esting sight ; they seem both nearer and denser than on 
 land. I watched a number of dark cloud-peaks come 
 slowly into view, solid enough, in aj>pearance, to deceive 
 one into the belief that they belonged to a veritable 
 mountain range, — only that, after a little, they broke, 
 scattered, and vanished, in unmistakable cloud fashion. 
 
 After a time, I fell into conversation with some of my 
 fellow-passengers, and was amazed to learn what an 
 amount of gossip was current among them, — yes, posi- 
 tively, gossip ! — on a steamer only three days out, with 
 a crowd of passengers gathered from the four quarters 
 of the globe, not a dozen of whom had ever met before, 
 or would ever meet again! The histories of one 
 deserted wife, and one heart-broken one, of a runaway 
 couple, a defaulter fleeing from justice, a Mexican 
 Croesus, a bewitching flirt, et csetera, et caetera, were 
 told me with a clearness of outline and a breadth of 
 color that defied criticism. I listened and marvelled, 
 admiring the ingenuity that had invented all these con- 
 
THE VOYAGE. 15 
 
 current details, or the detective skill that had wormed 
 them out. It might be that the talent was here running 
 to waste ! 
 
 At sunset, there was a lavish outpouring of brilliant 
 color, and some wonderful sky-scenery. At early dusk 
 we made the southernmost Florida light, and then 
 quickly left it behind. At the rising of the moon, 
 we looked out over an unbroken extent of shining, 
 murmuring semi-tropical sea. I say semi, to be geo- 
 graphically correct, the Tropic of Cancer not yet being 
 passed. But for artistic and atmospheric accuracy the 
 qualification is not needed. 
 
 Xow, finally, it was necessary to face the horrors of 
 my stateroom. Like many anticipated evils, they shrank 
 to nothingness in the reality. The demon of sea-sick- 
 ness had flown. Over the moonlit ocean, I sailed softly 
 into Dreamland. 
 
 One more day of smooth gliding through balmiest 
 sunshine and gentlest trade- winds, of quiet enjoyment 
 of pleasant ocean pictures and curious contrasts of faces, 
 characters, and languages ; of growing strength and 
 spirits; of eating and drinking, chatting, gossiping, 
 musing, and yawning; — one more night of moonlight 
 splendor and peace ; — and the voyage was over. 
 
CHAPTER ni. 
 
 THE LANDING AND HOTEL. 
 
 /^"\NXY four days and a half from New York to 
 Havana! — that is to say, from snow to verdure, 
 from frost to flowers, from bare, gray boughs to cluster- 
 ing fruits, from winter to summer ! There is a touch of 
 enchantment — of Aladdin's lamp and the Emir's carpet 
 — about it ! 
 
 The first land made by south -going steamers is the 
 Monte del Pan, or Bread Mountain, of Matanzas ; which 
 we saw with the earliest sunbeams on its top. There- 
 after, we skirted the Cuban coast for two or three hours, 
 near enough to see that the island's surface was green 
 and undulating, on the ocean, and that it rose into moun- 
 tain and table-land, in the interior. By and by, palms 
 and other forms of tropical vegetation were dimly dis- 
 tinguishable. Thereupon the whole land became picture 
 and poem, and I slid into delicious reverie, and took but 
 vague note of time or scene, till roused by the report 
 of a gun to see that Havana was full in view. 
 
 To the left, was the far-famed Morro Castle, with 
 little of the grimness of a fortress about it, but much of 
 the dreamy and delicate beauty of an enchanted palace. 
 
THE LANDING AND HOTEL. 17 
 
 So it seemed to me, at least ; but I suspect that I saw 
 everything couleur-de-rose, at that moment. Its walls of 
 a light golden brown, seemed to grow out of, rather 
 than to be built upon, a ridge of rocks curiously worn 
 and seamed by the action of the water; from the 
 midst of which rose a single, lofty, slender tower, with 
 a graceful balcony and beacon at top ; the whole looking 
 so slight and aerial, in the shimmering sunshine, that I 
 should scarcely have marvelled to see it melt slowly, and 
 vanish in thin wreaths of mist. That this fair vision 
 had teeth was made plain, however, by a long line of 
 embrasures for cannon; nor did the sharp hail of a 
 sentry from its walls, demanding the steamer's name 
 and. port of departure, sound wholly amiable. The 
 position of the castle gives it entire control of the 
 entrance to the harbor, which is a kind of channel, 
 scarcely more than three hundred yards wide, and 
 about a thousand long. On the point opposite the 
 Morro, is a smaller, older, and less striking fortification, 
 known as "El Castillo de la Punta," built in 1589, by 
 Philip II. ; in the rear of which are seen the white walls 
 of the city prison. Back from the Punta, in either direc- 
 tion, stretches the city ; the old, historic portion, with 
 its grim walls and bastions, following the channel and 
 the bay, while the new part, with long lines of green 
 trees marking the course of its pleasant paseos, extends 
 along the ocean. 
 
 Passing between the Morro and the Punta, and 
 entering the channel, we came in sight of the " Caba- 
 nas," a huge, strong fort behind the Morro, commanding 
 
18 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 both that and the city, as well as the greater part of 
 the bay. It is built of the same stone that forms the 
 steep bluff on which it stands, and so difficult is it to 
 discover the exact line where rock and masonry meet 
 that one is almost driven to conclude that its walls and 
 bastions are the result of some strange freak of nature. 
 Soon the channel widened into the open harbor — an 
 irregular sheet of water, in shape somewhat resembling 
 a trefoil, and not far from three miles long, but consider- 
 ably less than half as wide. Very beautiful it looked 
 from our steamer's deck, set in the midst of low green 
 hills, gilded by the morning sun, and with a multitude 
 of ships of all nations lying on its bosom and reflected — « 
 every hulk, every spar, every rope — in its still depths. 
 Some of these reflections were broken into waverinir, 
 indistinct fragments as we steamed past and, turning to 
 the right, dropped anchor about half a mile from the 
 custom house, to await the coming of the Health Officer, 
 before whose visit nobody could be permitted to leave 
 the vessel or to come on board. It was out of the kindest 
 consideration, doubtless, that this official kept us waiting 
 for an hour or two. It gave us time to observe the odd 
 architecture and colors of Havana, and to make our- 
 selves familiar with the relative positions of harbor, 
 fortifications, city, and suburbs — knowledge that would 
 be of service by and by ; also, to realize that our weary 
 souls had arrived off a land where life was not lived in 
 a perpetual hurry, nor a whole people bent on getting 
 ahead of time, being once fully persuaded of which, we 
 should be better fitted for life on its shores. 
 
THE LANDING AND HOTEL. 19 
 
 For further pastime, we could watch the movements 
 of a fleet of small, awning-covered boats, by which the 
 steamer was surrounded immediately on casting anchor. 
 The swarthy boatmen in charge thereof demeaned them- 
 selves much like a crowd of New York hackmen, 
 shouting, swearing, crowding, and trying to bargain 
 with such of the passengers as were within hail, for the 
 debarkation of themselves and luggage. Some of them, 
 too, held up great bunches of bananas and other fruits 
 for sale. 
 
 At last, Mr. Health Officer appeared, inspected the 
 ship's papers and condition, pronounced " all right," and 
 lifted his hat politely to captain and passengers as he 
 went over the side ; whereupon, the decks of the steamer 
 immediately swarmed with a crowd of boatmen, huck- 
 sters, idlers, and expectant friends, comparable only 
 to the miraculous gathering of the locusts in Egypt. 
 Amid this vociferous crowd, my friend Juan's smiling 
 face soon beamed out like a veritable beacon-light to 
 one sailing on unknown waters ; and a few moments 
 later, I found myself in one of the afore-mentioned boats, 
 being rowed toward the custom house landing. It is 
 impossible to describe the exceeding charm of that 
 moment ! Glad to escape from the confinement and 
 discomforts of the steamer, interested by the novelty 
 and beauty of the scene, lulled by the soft gliding mo- 
 tion of the boat and the musical plashing of the oars, 
 and refreshed by the cool breeze which just rippled the 
 surface of the sparkling water, I thought that the very 
 essence of enjoyment had been distilled for my tasting ! 
 
20 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 After snow-banks and frost-rime, brown, bare boughs, 
 and winds straight from polar ice-fields, these green 
 banks ! these waving palms ! these caressing breezes ! I 
 felt as if I had landed in another planet ! 
 
 At the custom house, there was another delay of 
 half-an-hour, ere my trunks took their turn at being 
 examined — not a formidable operation, when the keys 
 are readily and good-humoredly produced. A courteous 
 official, in a light and becoming uniform of linen, thrust 
 a remarkably white hand down a corner of each of my 
 trunks, without anywise displacing the contents ; and 
 immediately signified, by a polite bow and gesture, that 
 his business with them was over. 
 
 From the custom house I stepped into what I 
 thought the oddest vehicle conceivable, until the sight 
 of a " volante," thereafter, convicted me of a mistake. 
 This affair was in size and shape much like one of our 
 barouches, but mounted on two wheels only, with shafts 
 of an absurd length ; at the farther extremity of which, 
 with much superfluous expenditure of leather and metal, 
 was harnessed a little, stout pony, who shook his square 
 head, and trotted off with the clumsy vehicle as if it 
 were the easiest thing in the world. Indeed, I am fast 
 verging to the opinion that a native Cuban horse is the 
 strongest, toughest specimen of the equine race that 
 trots on the face of the globe. I have little to say for 
 his beauty, however. 
 
 I was unprepared to find Havana so thoroughly Ori- 
 ental — perhaps I should say, Moorish — in its' aspect. 
 The same narrow streets, roofed with awnings — the 
 
THE LANDING AND HOTEL. 21 
 
 same one-storied houses, built around a court — the same 
 shallow shops, on a level with the pavement, and all 
 open in front, exposing their entire contents to view — 
 the same long files of cumbrously laden mules, tied 
 together, and with a gayly-dressed muleteer in charge 
 — and the same bright-turbaned, stately-stepping ne- 
 gresses, with heavy burdens poised on their heads. 
 Many of the cross streets are so narrow that only a 
 single vehicle can pass through, and it becomes a matter 
 of wonderment how awkward meetings and hindrances 
 are avoided. The pavements, too, are only designed for 
 the accommodation of one foot-passenger. Parties must 
 go in single file; while passing is accomplished by a 
 turning sideways, and a nice calculation of distances 
 and adjustment of angles ; unless, as is most usual, one 
 of the parties prefers to step down into the street. 
 
 Arrived at the " Hotel del Telegrafo," I was con- 
 ducted to my room by so circuitous a route, that I 
 begged Juan to come for me at the dinner-hour, much 
 doubting my ability to find my way out of the laby- 
 rinth. First up stairs, then down — then across a court — 
 then up again — then through somebody's private parlor 
 — then across a portion of the roof — and so on, until I 
 grew confused, and gave up trying to take any " bear- 
 ings." At length, I reached a room, opening on a 
 court, threw myself into a rocking chair, and looked 
 around me with some curiosity as to what my first 
 lodging in Cuba might be. 
 
 Certainly, it had the merit of novelty ! A doorway, 
 lofty and ample enough to admit a coach and six ; two 
 
22 MY WIHTJSK IN CUBA. 
 
 doors, sufficiently heavy to stand a siege, and with such 
 an accumulation of odd and uncouth bolts and hasps 
 and padlocks as would have been unpleasantly sug- 
 gestive of midnight assault, if the thick coat of rust 
 thereon had not saved them from any suspicion of 
 ever being used. Two windows, one so high that I was 
 forced to climb upon a chair to look out ; both iron-grated, 
 like a prison, and with heavy, wooden, inside shutters, 
 into one of which was inserted a single pane of glass, for 
 the admission of light on rainy days, probably, — from 
 which, heaven preserve us ! A lofty ceiling of huge 
 beams and boards, painted blue, by way of pleasant 
 contrast with the deep green of the window frames and 
 the red and yellow tiles of the floor! Carpet? Xo, 
 friend ; carpets are almost unknown in Cuba. I have 
 seen one, about the size of a table-cloth, spread in the 
 middle of the floor of the salon, on state occasions ; but 
 neither carpets nor matting are in common use, and 
 would only be hiding-places for vermin, if they were. 
 
 By way of furniture, my room owned a dressing- 
 table and chairs of unmistakably Yankee origin; but 
 there, all familiar forms ceased. The bedstead was of 
 iron, narrow and high, with ample provision of lace- 
 edged mosquito-netting, indicative of unpleasant noc- 
 turnal visitants. Upon examination, it proved to be 
 destitute of either mattress or bed, nothing in the world 
 to sleep on except a sacking bottom, with a sheet 
 spread over! This is the universal custom of the 
 Cubans ; they hold it to be more comfortable, in their 
 climate, than anything softer. I do not quarrel with 
 
THE LANDING AND HOTEL. .23 
 
 the theory, but I am bound to say that I found 
 it extremely hard to conform to the practice. A 
 pair of pillows stuffed with moss, not much harder 
 than a log, and a perfect nightmare of a flowered coun- 
 terpane, completed the bed-furniture. Add to the above, 
 a pair of large water-jars, of Pompeian pattern, a queer 
 carved centre-table, of Venetian pattern, a wash-stand 
 absolutely sid generis^ and a row of brass hooks, and 
 you have my room and its furnishings complete. Never- 
 theless, it was golden with sunshine, and fresh with 
 breeze, and had a foreign flavor about it very pleasing 
 to a traveller. 
 
 . At four o'clock, Juan came with an invitsrtion to dine 
 with certain American friends of his, recent arrivals at 
 the hotel. After the usual number of twistings and turn- 
 ings, ascents and descents, we reached their pleasant 
 parlor, and I was welcomed as cordially as if I had 
 always been known to them. " All Americans are friends 
 
 in a foreign country," said Mrs. R ; and I was quite 
 
 ready to accept the doctrine, as my new acquaintances 
 were cultured and agreeable, and a seat at their table 
 much more to my taste than one in the public dining- 
 room. Nor was it too retired, as you will divine, 
 when you are informed, that a private parlor in the 
 " Hotel del Telegrafo," means nothing more nor less than 
 a sort of hall or ante-chamber, surrounded by bedrooms 
 whose doors open upon it, and whose occupants must 
 needs be constantly passing in and out. The present 
 specimen was large and lofty, furnished with American 
 rockers and large antique vases, and floored with 
 
24 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 marble, in alternate blocks of black and white. At one 
 end was the wide doorway, opening upon a portion of 
 the roof, by which we had gained admittance ; at the 
 other, a broad, balconied window overlooking the mili- 
 tary parade ground, known as " El Campo de Marte," 
 and giving an almost unlimited view of the quaint, tiled 
 roofs of the city, — the hotels being among the very few 
 buildings that can boast of more than one story. 
 
 The dinner was really good and well-served, although 
 the dishes were mostly new acquaintances, or so dis- 
 guised by strange sauces and modes of cookery as to defy 
 recognition. " Will you take some of this queer-looking 
 compound r^" questioned my hostess, as each dish ma£e 
 its appearance ; " I haven't the slightest idea what it is, 
 nor if it is good, — you must taste and see, as we do ! " 
 In general, the tasting was not disagreeable, though now 
 and then, it resulted in irrepressibly wry faces ; which, 
 however, only added to the mirth of the party. The 
 attendant showed a most unusual and praiseworthy 
 readiness to supply whatever was desired. On one 
 occasion, being asked, if " chicken " formed any part of 
 our bill of fare, he replied, " No, but I will make one ! " 
 which soon appeared, in verification of the statement, 
 and did credit to his powers of creation, being in no 
 wise inferior to the article produced in ordinary process 
 of hatching and growth. 
 
 And such fruits as came on for dessert ! Oranges, of 
 which only the most remote of kin ever enters the United 
 States ; bananas that seem to repeat to the taste all that 
 a su mm er sunset gives to the eye ; and melaos, unfa- 
 
THE LANDING AND HOTEL. 25 
 
 miliar to you by name, but which you can conceive of 
 as a sort of sweet, rose-colored cream, eaten with a 
 spoon from a thick, brown rind or skin, about the size 
 of a musk-melon, but of a more oblong shape. Un- 
 happy dwellers in a frozen clime, what would you not 
 give for a share in such luxuries as these ! 
 
 Afterward, there was a visit to the roof, to watch 
 the large, tropical moon sailing gloriously through the 
 heavens; mellowing into soft lines and harmonious 
 tints the angular forms and incongruous colors of the 
 city, and touching the distant harbor with a shimmer 
 of silver light. Here, I saw plainly what I had before 
 suspected, that the hotel was an odd jumble of build- 
 ings of different heights and ages, connected together 
 by a new and imposing front ; and my after wanderings 
 through its mazes, the utter confusion of mind that 
 seized upon me whenever I lost sight of my own door, 
 the odd mistakes that I made, the awkward intrusions 
 of which I was guilty, would form an amusing and vo- 
 luminous chapter of my Cuban experiences. Seldom 
 did I reach my destination without stirring up some 
 lazy mozo from a stolen nap in a dusky corner, and 
 putting myself under his guidance. 
 
 Yet, notwithstanding this and other drawbacks, the 
 " Hotel del Telegrafo " is the best of the Spanish hotels, 
 in Havana. And who would go thither to stop at an 
 " American Hotel ? " Are there not enough of them 
 and to spare, at home ! 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 AT THE EETEETA. 
 
 A SORT of open air concert is given, every evening, 
 from eight to nine o'clock, by the Government of 
 Havana, in two of the public squares of the city, the 
 music being furnished by the regimental bands. This 
 is called the " retreta" and thither flock foreigners and 
 natives, in crowds. The former behold there many 
 striking features of Cuban life, and to the latter it is 
 the place where friends meet, and lovers woo, and 
 flirtations go on, and toilets are displayed, — the music 
 seeming to be only a secondary consideration. To the 
 retreta, therefore, went our small party of four, — which, 
 nevertheless, represented three nationalities, Spain, Eng- 
 land, and the United States, — in a large barouche, such 
 vehicles being kept on hire, for the convenience of 
 parties ; the native volante admitting of but two — or at 
 most, three — occupants. 
 
 The plaza was crowded when we arrived, the music 
 already begun, and the volantes standing in double and 
 triple rows all around the enclosure. In these odd 
 equipages sat the dark : eyed Cubanas y in that minimum 
 of attire which " Society " absurdly terms " full dress." 
 Their coiffures were elaborate, but, as far as I could see, 
 
AT THE RETRETA. 27 
 
 they were without bonnet, veil, shawl, or any wrap what- 
 soever. I looked eagerly for 'the black lace mantilla, 
 always a graceful and indispensable accessory to the 
 ideal picture of Spanish beauty, drawn from books, and 
 hung in a sunny corner of Memory's gallery ; but I am 
 told it is now discarded, except for wearing to Mass on 
 Sundays. The full, flowing skir1$ of these ladies were 
 spread carefully out at each side of the volante, hanging 
 nearly to the ground, and giving to the vehicle, when 
 viewed from the rear, the appearance of being furnished 
 with wings. This is the prevailing style; no Cuban 
 lady thinks it necessary or expedient to tuck her skirts 
 into her carriage. Such an arrangement would not 
 sufficiently display their length and showy trimmings ; 
 and her opportunities for exhibiting them elsewhere are 
 extremely limited. The practice is not so utterly ruinous 
 as it would seem, the wheels of the vehicle being: so far 
 in the rear as to preclude any danger of contact. 
 
 But the volantes themselves — or the quitrins, as the 
 more modern and stylish variety is called — attracted my 
 attention at first even more than their occupants. I 
 wished that one could be transferred bodily — horses, 
 harness, postilion, inmates, and all — to the Central 
 Park, some fine day. Not Cleopatra's chariot, with the 
 beautiful Egyptian Queen therein, would create a greater 
 sensation. 
 
 Fancy a pair of enormous wheels, not less than six 
 feet in diameter, with an axle of corresponding size, to 
 which is fastened a pair of long, curved shafts ; — add to 
 these a phaeton-shaped body, whereof top and dash- 
 
28 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 .JH 
 
 board nearly meet, hung entirely forward of the wheels 
 and between the shafts, by leathern straps depending 
 from the axle behind and a cross-bar in front ; — harness 
 a single horse into these shafts, not less than three or 
 four feet from the dashboard, and using as much leather 
 and plate as possible in the process ; — put a heavy saddle 
 on his back, to enable him to support the cumbrous 
 structure, which the much burdened animal is also ex- 
 pected to draw; — fasten another horse to the whiffle- 
 tree, at the left side, by a pair of traces long enough to 
 allow him to keep about half his length in advance of 
 the other; — on this latter mount a negro "calesero," 
 with richly-laced and bright-colored jacket, broad laced 
 " sombrero," enormous jack-boots reaching nearly to the 
 hips, large silver-plated spurs, and heavy leathern whip, 
 whose duty it is to lead the working horse by a short 
 rein, shout at him vociferously, crack his whip at him 
 with a report like a small pistol, and thrash him unmer- 
 cifully whenever he slackens his trot ; — imagine postil- 
 ion, horse, harness, and vehicle to be glistening with 
 gold lace or silver plate, and between shouting, jingling, 
 creaking, and rattling, making more noise than a half- 
 dozen of our carriages ; — and then you may have some 
 faint conception of a Cuban volante ! But the thing 
 must be seen to be duly appreciated. It is an unique 
 article of its kind, striking the unaccustomed gaze even 
 more oddly than a French diligence or an Irish jaunting- 
 car, yet possessing a certain barbaric splendor, and a 
 graceful, easy, swinging motion, to which those vehicles 
 have no claim. 
 
AT THE RETRETA. 29 
 
 I have omitted one small, but ludicrous detail. The 
 long tails of both horses are tightly braided, and tied to 
 the harness or the saddle with bright-colored cords or 
 ribbons, in such wise as to prevent any movement of 
 those useful members. I am at a loss for the reason, 
 since the arrangement gives an absurdly rat-like look to 
 the small native pony ; and in a climate where gnats and 
 mosquitos do so abound, it seems a positive cruelty. 
 
 Ordinarily, neither volante nor quitrin has more than 
 one seat and two occupants ; but a third seat, called la 
 nina bonita (the pretty child), is sometimes attached to 
 the other, whereon, slightly in advance, sits the youngest 
 of a dazzling party of three. Thus enthroned, and 
 with the top of the volante flung back, the fair Cubanas 
 sit out the retreta, flirting their fans, and acknowledging 
 the bows and salutations of passing acquaintances ; but 
 never, for one moment touching their dainty satin slip- 
 pers to the pavement, or seeming to care to do so. But 
 we, being forasteros, privileged to " do in Rome as the 
 Romans do not" alighted from our carriage, made our 
 way through the masculine crowd in the square, hired 
 chairs from an enormous pile, fearfully and wonderfully 
 reared on a negro's back, and established ourselves at 
 the foot of the statue of " Isabel la Catolica" in a posi- 
 tion favorable for the hearing of the music. Here, I 
 contrived to squeeze myself into a space between the 
 base of the statue and the nearest bench, leaving Miss 
 R. to take the brunt of the staring consequent upon our 
 unusual procedure; where I was able to listen undis- 
 turbed to the concord of sweet sounds, study the statue 
 
30 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 above and the faces around by the soft transfiguring 
 moonlight, inhale rich wafts of fragrance from neighbor- 
 ing orange and lemon trees, and try to realize that only 
 five days ago I looked upon a scene where "Winter 
 reigned supreme. Harder still was it to realize the 
 transition from the four walls of an invalid's chamber, 
 where existence dragged wearily between couch and 
 easy-chair, and no moment was free from pain, to this 
 brilliant out-door scene, with nothing between me and 
 the stars, and, save some slight remnant of weakness, 
 the serenest sense of physical well-being. Life had 
 
 " Suffered a sea-change 
 Into something rich and strange." 
 
 The music consisted chiefly of selections from favorite 
 operas, and was exquisitely rendered. It ended with a 
 " Quickstep," to the lively measure of which the band 
 marched off, followed by the crowd ; such part of it as 
 did not resort forthwith to the " Cafe Dominica," to 
 enjoy ices, or cooling drinks known as refrescos. Thither 
 went we, — not to enter, however, though foreign ladies 
 may do it when accompanied by gentlemen, and pre- 
 pared to endure any amount of eyeshot. But the moon- 
 light was far too lovely to leave outside ; so we summoned 
 a waiter, and were served, Cuban fashion, in our carriage. 
 The ices, flavored with a fruit called guanabana, were 
 delicious ; and we ate them by the help of certain deli- 
 cate tubes of sweet paste, known as barquillos, experi- 
 encing the novel sensation of devouring our spoons and 
 our ices simultaneously, and leaving not a vestige of 
 either behind ! 
 
AT THE RETRETA. 31 
 
 So we chatted and ate, under the magical radiance 
 of the tropical moon, with a soft, india-ink view of the 
 plaza in the distance, and in our ears the ever fainter 
 and fainter harmonies of the receding hand. And thus 
 ended my first day in Cuba — a day crowded with new 
 scenes and sensations, a day whereof the greenness and 
 goldenness, the novelty and quaintness, the grace and 
 the grotesqueness, will be a joy forever! 
 
 But after the day, the night cometh ! And of my 
 first night in Cuba, the chronicle runneth briefly thus : — 
 
 On returning from the retreta, I summoned the 
 chambermaid, or man (for the post was filled by a 
 handsome Cuban youth of eighteen or twenty), and 
 asked for a mattress, — having been informed that the 
 article was sometimes supplied to foreign demand. 
 Whereupon, he presently brought in a dingy affair, not 
 more than two feet wide and two inches thick, which he 
 threw upon the middle of the bedstead and proceeded 
 to unroll with a grand, this-is-precisely-what-you-want 
 air, — when, lo ! a sudden glancing and scampering of 
 innumerable cockroaches ! 
 
 " Caramba!" said he, with a decided change of 
 countenance. 
 
 "Que hueste invencible I '" exclaimed I, beating a 
 quick retreat. 
 
 The dark legions vanished in the twinkling of an 
 eye, however,- as is their amiable habit when suddenly 
 brought to light, and my onozo's discomfiture went with 
 them. Pouring out a voluble and confident assurance 
 that they had all retreated to the crevices of the walls 
 
32 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 and would appear no more, he quickly made the bed, 
 bade me a courteous " JBuenas noches" and withdrew. 
 
 I cannot speak enthusiastically of my night's rest 
 upon that mattress. It was as hard as the Irishman's 
 three feathers, it had an odor strongly suggestive of 
 stables, and the fleas did not decamp with the cock- 
 roaches ! 
 
 Besides, there were the serenos — not a species of 
 vermin, but a peculiarly Cuban species of watchmen. 
 Seeing one for the first time, you think he has walked 
 out of the Middle Ages to meet you. He is habited in 
 a queer, gown-like coat ; he has a clumsy pistol stuck in 
 his belt ; and he carries a long pike, a whistle, a lantern, 
 and a rope. It is his business to cry the time and the 
 state of the weather every half-hour during the night ; 
 prefacing the cry with a vigorous knocking of his pike- 
 staff- on the pavement. As the nights are almost inva- 
 riably clear and fine, his usual cry is " sereno" from 
 whence he derives his name. To the eye, he is a suffi- 
 ciently picturesque institution ; to the ear, an execrable 
 one. Not more effectually did Macbeth " murder sleep " 
 than he does, until one becomes accustomed to his noc- 
 turnal din. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE PALACE AND PLAZA. 
 
 rpEN" o'clock is the breakfast-hour for all Cuba, at least, 
 for that portion of it which does not belong to the 
 "hewers of wood and drawers of water;" and at that 
 hour I was again enjoying Mrs. R.'s cordial hospitality, 
 and drinking the very best cup of coffee that ever I 
 tasted. Whoever desires to enjoy that beverage in 
 perfection, may be very sure of doing so in Cuba, if 
 he puts himself under wise guidance. But the tea is 
 only fit to fling after the German diplomatist's salad, 
 " out of a very wide open window ! " It is a comfort to 
 be assured that no one drinks it " unless he is sick." 
 
 The day was devoted to sight-seeing. First, we took 
 a look at the Palace of the Captain General, which I re- 
 garded with some interest, knowing it to be the centre 
 of a system of military despotism; which, although 
 somewhat lighter than formerly, has still certain feat- 
 ures calculated to rouse the indignation, or secure the 
 contempt, of any free-born American. For was not 
 I — Z, the most harmless and insignificant little woman 
 in the world! — obliged, to procure a certain six-by- 
 eight, dingy, ill-printed paper, called a " permit," before I 
 was allowed to stir in Cuba ; which seemed far less worth 
 2* 
 
34 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 the eight dollars paid for it, than the wildest auction 
 purchase, or " damaged-goods " bargain, in which I ever 
 indulged ! The face of this precious document declares 
 to all whom it may concern that, — 
 
 "THE GOVERNOR OF THIS JURISDICTION 
 Grants a ticket of disembarkation in favor of Dona W. M. L. 
 Jay, a native of the United States, of no profession ; who arrived 
 at Havana in the Steamer Eagle," etc. etc. 
 
 On the left, in a square, are the "particular signs," 
 by which the said "Dona" may be identified; the 
 blanks calling for a description of height, age, com- 
 plexion, hair, eyebrows, forehead, eyes, nose, mouth, 
 and beard (/) ; but as only the items of age and height 
 are filled out, the permit might serve as well for half 
 the foreign females in the Island ; showing conclusively 
 that its true object is a species of legalized plunder. 
 Then follow the signature of the Chief of Police, with a 
 facsimile of that of the Governor, and the seals proper 
 to each. Underneath are the following " notices " : 
 
 " The present document shall be null and void whenever it 
 loses the seal or crest of the Government here affixed. 
 
 " Foreigners should notice particularly the third paragraph of 
 the regulations to be found on the back." 
 
 Turning to the back, therefore, we find a number of 
 
 1 
 petty rules, printed in French, Spanish, and English, 
 
 some few of which I copy from the English column, 
 
 verbatim, et literatim, et punctuatim. 
 
THE PALACE AND PLAZA. 35 
 
 WARNING. 
 
 " This permit must be presented to obtain the baggages, which 
 can be landed every day, Sundays & holidays included, from sun- 
 sete till sunrise provided the consignee of the vessel has obtained 
 the necessary permit from the collector. 
 
 "This permit must likewise be presented to owners of the 
 house or establishment where the passenger goes to stop, so that 
 he may give the necessary advice to the police. 
 
 " This permit will enable newly arrived foreigners to transit 
 in all directions during one month from its date. It will also 
 enable to fixe residence in every place in the Island : according 
 to it, its presentation is always necessary before the Capitan de 
 partido, Gomisario 6 Celador respective. After that period a pase 
 de trdnsito is required to travel over the Island. 
 
 " The want of the compliance to these regulations implicates a 
 fine of ten dollars. 
 
 " No passenger will be allowed to enter the city without sub- 
 jecting to these requisites, and will be obliged to justify its fulfil- 
 ment, by presenting the permit and the mark or sign which the 
 Custom house agents put to the respective packages after in- 
 spection. 
 
 u No foreigner is allowed to reside more than three months in 
 the Island without procuring a carta dejlomicilio, which he will 
 obtain by a petition backed by the Consul dfxhis nation." 
 
 Even long residents of Cuba, born in Old Spain, are 
 not exempted from these restrictions. Each year they 
 are obliged to procure the aforementioned " ca^ta de 
 domicilio ,'^which they are liable to be called upc^n to 
 show at any railway, or police-station, or even at their 
 houses; and any infraction of the rule is punishable 
 with a fine. 
 
 With this document in my pocket, in token of the 
 
36 MY WINTER IN CUBA, 
 
 extreme solicitude which the Spanish Government feels 
 for its guests, I examined the Vice Roylil Palace on a 
 certain footing of equality, conscious of having duly paid 
 eight dollars for its support, and bought the privilege of 
 saying and thinking what I pleased about it. I soon de- 
 cided that it had but a moderate claim to architectural 
 grandeur or beauty. It fronts on the " Plaza de Armas," 
 is built of a yellowish-colored stone, in the form of a 
 hollow square, and is two stories in height, of which 
 the upper one only is the residence of the Captain Gen- 
 eral. This projects far over the lower one, and is sup- 
 ported by a row of stone pillars, making a pleasant 
 colonnade along the front. The ground floor is devoted 
 to various public offices. An arched way leads into a 
 patio, or court, upon which open the interior windows. 
 On either side of the principal entrance is a guard- 
 room; and across the colonnade, from door-posts to 
 pillars, two sentinels are marching stolidly all day, and 
 doubtless, all night. At least, I see no reason why they 
 should not keep up the same monotonous, indolent per- 
 formance throughout the night, and sleep like dormouses 
 at the same time. 
 
 The " Plaza de Armas " is very handsomely laid out 
 with walks, and ornamented with shrubbery, a few palm 
 and cocoa trees, and a statue of one of the numerous 
 Ferdinands, — whose images adorn, or disfigure (accord- 
 ing to taste), nearly every plaza and paseo in the Island. 
 The enclosure is surrounded by a thick row of extremely 
 old and luxuriant laureles de India, a species of banyan 
 tree ; whose dark, glossy foliage is so close as to seem 
 
THE PALACE AND PLAZA. 37 
 
 almost solid, and furnishes the densest shade to be 
 found in all Cuba. It affords shelter to numerous 
 bright-plumaged birds, whose name I forget, but the 
 story of whose introduction into the Island found a 
 firmer lodgment in my memory. They were brought 
 hither by a sailor from Spain, in the days when Havana 
 was a walled city, at whose gates all comers were 
 stopped, and cross-questioned, and when custom-house 
 regulations were even more strict than now. The old, 
 weather-beaten "salt" was desired to pay an exorbitant 
 duty on his pets. After some altercation, irate and 
 rebellious, he opened the cage-door, saying, " They shall 
 enter, and they shall not pay duty." The birds immedi- 
 ately flew over the walls to the nearest trees, where 
 they settled, made themselves at home, increased and 
 multiplied, and have sent out colonies into all parts of 
 the Island. And still the traveller sees their bright 
 wings glancing in and out amid the thick boughs of the 
 old laurels, while he listens to this story of their natural- 
 ization, told by some grave, courteous Don ; and takes 
 their cheery warblings for a confirmation of the tale, 
 or a sarcastic comment thereon, according to tempera- 
 ment. 
 
 These ancient laurel-trees are the pride of the " Hab- 
 anero," but no tree will so charm a stranger's gaze, or 
 win such a place in his affections, as the palma real, or 
 royal palm. The straight, smooth, slender trunk shoots 
 up some fifty feet, or more, into the air, with the perfect 
 finish and lofty aspiration of a Corinthian column ; and 
 then crowns itself with a spreading cluster of graceful, 
 
38 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 plumy leaves, whose deep, vivid green shines like satin 
 in the sunlight. These look so delicate and feathery at 
 their dizzy height that I marvelled, when I had oppor- 
 tunity to examine one fallen to the ground, to find it ten 
 or twelve feet in length, with a stem much thicker than 
 my arm ; while those apparently tender, tapering rays 
 of green, of which it is composed, seemed like sword- 
 blades in my hand. This discovery increased my respect 
 without lessening my admiration. Indeed, whether seen 
 in stately colonnades and long avenues, or standing 
 singly or in groups on the plain, the palm-tree grows 
 constantly in my esteem, and I am ready to render it 
 my deepest homage as the King of trees. And what 
 wealth of association gathers around its name ! What 
 troops of images, sacred, historic, poetical, throng on 
 the mind with every bend of its kingly crest, with every 
 whisper of its rustling plumes ! Soft, faint echoes of gray, 
 quaint fable and purple Eastern poesy, — visions of wide 
 reaches of sandy desert — slow, winding marches of 
 stately caravans — bright oases by crystal fountains — 
 mazy dances of flushed Almes — mystic rites of wild 
 dervishes — grand, silent ruins and dethroned statues — 
 holy labors and sorrows of apostle and martyr — the 
 calm, sad, benignant face of the Son of Man going 
 about Jerusalem or to and fro across the hills of Gali- 
 lee, — these, all, drenched my soul, and left me breath- 
 less and awe-struck before the majestic marvel! Like 
 Dana, " I was glad that they had strewn palm-leaves in 
 the path of the Saviour, — I was glad that the saint3 in 
 Heaven carry palm-leaves in their hands ! " 
 
CHAPTER VI* 
 
 WITHIN AND WITHOUT THE WALLS. 
 
 (~*i OIN"G up Obispo street from the Plaza de Armas, 
 we were confronted with one of Havana's most 
 noticeable and interesting features — the remaining por- 
 tion of the old city wall, with the gateways and bastions 
 thereto pertaining. This ancient barrier overtops the 
 nearest houses, and is solidly built of hewn stone, 
 about twenty feet thick at bottom, with a smooth per- 
 pendicular face, but with two or three terrace-like 
 projections on the inner side, whereon troops were 
 originally stationed for its defence. Outside there is, or 
 was, a moat, now dry, and filled as full of weeds and 
 creepers as it formerly was of water. 
 
 It is a novel experience to find these grim, hoary 
 relics , of bygone days and modes of life bursting up 
 through the quiet, prosaic flow of our modern existence ; 
 and a single sight of them gives vastly greater vivid- 
 ness to our mental pictures of that ancient time, than is 
 attainable by the closest study of books and pictures. 
 The man who might read Cervantes or look on the 
 masterpieces of Velasquez without once feeling his 
 fancy stirred, or his imagination quickened, would find 
 these gray towers bristling even more with quaint 
 
40 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 suggestions than ever they did with guns ; and as many 
 flowers of fancy and creeping, ramifying lines of 
 thought, would start forth from the time-worn, weather- 
 stained surface of the old wall, as there are blooming 
 plants rooted in its corners and projections, and vines 
 climbing and tangling along its sides. However, this 
 curious relic is even now in . process of removal, as an 
 useless cumberer of the ground ; the town having long 
 ago overleaped it and spread itself over the adjacent 
 country to an extent exceeding its former area. But it 
 will be years ere the venerable landmark disappears 
 from the city vocabulary ; the terms estramuros and 
 entremuros being still in constant use, even where no 
 vestige of the wall remains, to denote that boundary 
 line between the historic and the modern city which it 
 once defined so clearly. And it seems a pity to demol- 
 ish it altogether. One of the gateways, at least, should 
 be spared, to help us to realize an age and a manner of 
 life otherwise very dim and unreal to our modern vision. 
 Looking up at this gray wall, or standing under the 
 gateway's frowning arch, one sighs to see how notably 
 the picturesque has dropped out of the onward march 
 of invention. Utility leads the way, comfort and con- 
 venience swell the ranks, and the spirit of beauty is 
 not altogether absent ; but the sweet, coy, vagrant 
 charm of the picturesque seems left behind. Let him 
 who thinks otherwise, confront a modern cooking-stove 
 with an ancient fire-place, or a silver ice-pitcher with the 
 earthen water-jars in my Cuban bed-chamber, or set 
 down his newly-built villa (" with all the modern conven- 
 
WITHIN AND WITHOUT THE WALLS. 41 
 
 iences") by the side of this time-incrusted gateway, 
 and see which has the best of it artistically — of which 
 he would choose to make a picture for his parlor wall. 
 
 Our next visit — for we were " doing " Havana thor- 
 oughly, though not systematically — was to " La Hon- 
 radez," otherwise "Honesty," otherwise an immense 
 cigarette manufactory. This institution is in such 
 favor with foreigners that one day in each week is set 
 apart for their reception and entertainment ; when the 
 whole establishment puts on a gala-day air, and gentle- 
 manly ushers, speaking English, French, and German, 
 are in waiting to attend upon its guests. Having en- 
 tered our names in the register (which would turn an 
 autograph collector yellow with envy), we proceeded to 
 the inspection of the building. It consists of several 
 departments, with telegraphic connections, that no time 
 may be wasted in running to and fro. Chief among 
 them are the offices and counting-rooms, — the carpen- 
 ter's shop, for the construction of packing boxes and 
 barrels, — the machine room, with cutting and pressing 
 •machines, — the printing office, printing daily millions 
 of labels, circulars, fancy- wrappers, etc., — the designing, 
 engraving, and lithographic room, — and, what is most 
 interesting of all, the vast room where the Chinese 
 workmen twist up those little rolls of paper and scented 
 tobacco with an ease and celerity that seems little short 
 of miraculous; producing an average of over two 
 millions of cigarettes per day. The courtesy of the 
 attendants is a most pleasing feature to a visitor ; every- 
 thing is shown and explained with the most minute, 
 
42 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 unflagging attention and politeness ; and if a lady guest 
 expresses any admiration for the pretty boxes or fancy 
 pictures scattered about, she is immediately prayed to 
 accept of such as she most fancies. Finally, when the 
 hour of leave-taking arrives, each visitor is presented 
 with a package of cigarettes, prettily tied with gay 
 ribbon, and with his or her name printed in full on the 
 ornamental wrapper, having been copied from the regis- 
 ter during the inspection of the premises. One of our 
 party, who has an utter detestation of tobacco in all 
 shapes and modes of use, and was with difficulty induced 
 to enter the building, accepted hers with a some- 
 what embarrassed grace ; while her companions shook 
 with ill-suppressed merriment at the incongruity be- 
 tween the donation and the tastes of the donee. Never- 
 theless, she heartily endorsed the general opinion that 
 the generosity and courtesy of the proprietors of " La 
 Honradez " deserve honorable mention, and might fitly 
 be imitated by manufacturers of wares that have a 
 better title to the interest of the public. 
 
 We now left the narrow streets of the old city 
 behind, and drove through the " Gates of Monserrate," 
 the " Prado," and the " Paseo Tacon," to the gardens of 
 the Captain-General, — a large extent of ornamental 
 grounds, surrounding a pretty, villa-like residence 
 known as " Los Molinos ; " where that dignitary seeks 
 repose from the cares of state, and where his family 
 resides for the greater part of the time, reserving the 
 sombre Palace for state occasions. The gardens are 
 very handsomely laid out with walks, avenues, thickets, 
 
WITHIN AND WITHOUT THE WALLS. 43 
 
 flower-beds, and arbors, and contain a fine collection 
 of foreign and native plants. There was a dazzling 
 profusion of gorgeous, tropical flowers, — cacti of e very- 
 hue of blossom and every sort of prickly development — 
 tall, shapely oleanders — shivering mimosas — coral flow- 
 ered pomegranates — jessamines that seemed to have 
 laughed themselves into their exuberance of sunny 
 blossom — water-lilies that it took away one's breath to 
 look at — aloes, whose stately candelabra of gorgeous 
 blooms were worthy of- a place on Nature's highest altar 
 — and vines whose prodigality of leaf and flower gave 
 one an almost painful sense of beauty running to waste. 
 Beside these, there was a lovely wilderness of blossoms, 
 unknown to me by name. 
 
 Among the trees I noticed several fine specimens of 
 the date palm, apparently perfectly at home ; and I see 
 no reason why that species should not flourish anywhere 
 in the Island, if the people had enterprise enough to 
 introduce it. But never was there a race more wedded 
 to the policy of "letting well-enough alone." I sug- 
 gested the idea to Juan, to see what he would make 
 of it. 
 
 " What need ?" said he, with the ever ready shrug ; 
 " we have fruits for every month in the year, and vege- 
 tables all the year round. Why desire more ? " 
 1 This garden owns one of the finest avenues of the 
 royal palm to be seen in all Cuba. Its grand per- 
 spective seems like that of a vast and lofty temple. 
 The smooth, straight trunks of the trees are the most 
 stately and shapely of columns j and the intertwining 
 
44 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 leaves of green, shimmering and gleaming * in the sun- 
 shine, form the loveliest of traceries and illuminated 
 roofs. Looking through it, I seemed to discover whence 
 came the inspiration of Grecian architecture, as he who 
 wanders through long aisles of arching elms may be- 
 lieve that he sees whence sprang the graceful outlines 
 of the Gothic temple. And as the latter clearly 
 breathes of aspiration, — embodying its yearnings, its 
 struggles, and even its vagaries, — so the former is full 
 of the repose of attainment, and symbolizes the com- 
 pleteness, the simplicity, and the majesty of law. 
 
 There is a little canal running through the grounds, 
 for purposes of irrigation, as well as to lend a bright 
 sparkle of water to their attractions, and as I was rest- 
 ing on the bank two bright boys of the Captain-Gene- 
 ral's came out, and embarked in a gayly-painted boat 
 anchored near ; and while the younger was wholly 
 intent on raising a small Spanish flag in the stem, the 
 elder deferentially doffed his hat to my foreign h ce as 
 they floated past me. "What a charm there is in ease 
 and grace of manner ! I believe that my countrymen 
 are, in the main, more intelligent and large-hearted and 
 sincere, than these courtly foreigners; but I do wish 
 that some of the fair flowers of courtesy, which spring so 
 naturally from a Spaniard, might be ingrafted on the 
 sturdy stock of their solid virtues ! 
 
 Having been forced to observe how far the tropics 
 surpass us in luxuriant foliage and brilliant flowers, 
 my national pride was soothed to notice that Cuba can 
 produce nothing like the vivid green of our velvet turf. 
 
WITHIN AND WITHOUT THE WALLS. 45 
 
 There is an attempt at it in the Captain-General's gar- 
 den, but the grass is thin and sickly ; evidently it is an 
 exile, thrusting no willing root into the soil, and having 
 left all heart and energy behind. I felt drawn toward 
 it by a certain dreary sympathy, and I pressed a forlorn 
 sprig thereof in my note-book, beside a dainty spray of 
 a lovely, wandering vine and a flower whose ruby 
 coronal might have been cut from the very heart of the 
 sunset that was glorifying the western sky as we left 
 the grounds. All honor to the Captain-General for 
 throwing them so generously open to the public. There 
 is a sentinel at the gate, to be sure, and two others are 
 pacing before the house ; but neither interferes with any 
 quietly-behaved visitor, and the walks, the avenues, the 
 flowers, and the arbors, are free to all who come. 
 
 We finished the day on the paseo, a mixture of street 
 and pleasure-ground, whose use is peculiarly a Cuban 
 institution. Society, as we understand it, does not seem 
 to exist here. La retreta takes the place of our even- 
 ing visits, and the paseo serves for our morning calls. 
 Beside these, there are calls of ceremony, set balls, " il 
 teatro" an occasional dinner, and — nothing more ! — or 
 if there is, I have failed, as yet, to discover it. 
 
 The Paseo de Ysabel Segunda crosses the city in a 
 straight line from bay to ocean, just outside the walls. 
 It is between three or four hundred feet wide, and 
 about a mile long ; different parts of it being known by 
 different names, as the " Prado," the " Parque de Isabel," 
 etc. It is ornamented with fine trees, shrubbery, flowers, 
 glorietas, statues, and fountains, — the finest of the latter 
 
46 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 being of Carrara marble, the gift of a patriotic citizen, 
 and known as Lafuente de la India. Furthermore, it has 
 two broad drives for carriages, between which there are 
 seats for loiterers and walks for promenaders ; and along 
 its course are some of the finest public and private build- 
 ings of the city. But the favorite drive and promenade 
 is the " Paseo de Tacon," — a noble double avenue, lined 
 with trees and villas, and beautified with fountains and 
 statuary, leading from the Prado to El Cerro, — a small 
 hill-village three miles from Havana, commanding a 
 magnificent view of city, suburbs, and ocean. This 
 paseo is named in honor of a former Captain-General, to 
 whom, though he seems to have been an unmitigated 
 despot (or perhaps for that very reason), Havana owes 
 more improvements than to any of his predecessors. 
 
 Up and down this paseo go long lines of volantes and 
 carriages, in which one sees all the beauty and fashion 
 of the city, all its civil and military dignitaries, all its 
 visitors, and as large a delegation of its plebeians as are 
 fortunate enough to own or can hire a shabby volante 
 for the purpose. Now and then a mounted guardsman, 
 in a pretty and seasonable uniform of striped linen, with 
 collar and cuffs of scarlet or green cloth, and sword 
 and pistols flashing in the sunlight, rides by, to show 
 that the government takes as kindly an oversight of the 
 pleasures of its children, as it does of their business and 
 journeyings. 
 
 Up and down, up and down, in long flashing lines, 
 go the jingling volantes, with a pair, or it may be a 
 triad, of gayly-dressed ladies in each; and gentlemen 
 
WITHIN AND WITHOUT THE WALLS. 47 
 
 crowd the footpaths, and stare and smile and bow, with 
 a cigar in each mustachioed mouth, to sustain them 
 under the exertion. It is rare to see a gentleman occu- 
 pying the seat with a lady. Occasionally an unmis- 
 takable paterfamilias, with wife and children, exhibits 
 himself thus ; but in general, the masculine sex takes a 
 volante to itself, or lounges on the sidewalks. The 
 ladies, according to their wont, are bareheaded and 
 decolletSeSj with their long, showy skirts hanging out of 
 their volantes ; and one look at the combinations of 
 colors in their toilets would go far to make a French 
 modiste a candidate for the mad-house. Yellow and 
 scarlet, blue and purple, green and orange, seemed to 
 be favorite combinations; and though the dark eyes 
 and complexions of the Cubanas carry off these astound- 
 ing contrasts with a far better grace than their fairer 
 sisters of the North could do, still they give them a 
 look undeniably " dowdy " — not to say vulgar — to eyes 
 unaccustomed to such gaudiness of attire. Perhaps this 
 was the reason why so very few of them seemed any- 
 wise pretty to me. After a little, I came unwillingly to 
 the decision that my cherished ideal of Cuban beauty 
 could never stoop to incarnate itself in any of those fat, 
 fussy, overdressed matrons, nor those thin, sallow, life- 
 less, and likewise overdressed maidens. In all that vast 
 crowd of the elite of Havana, I saw only two or three 
 that it gave me any pleasure to look at ; and not one 
 that I should ask to play Juliet to my Romeo, from a 
 vine-wreathed balcony on a moonlit night, if I were the 
 gay gallant that I am not. It must be admitted that 
 
48 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 most of them had bright black eyes, but these could not 
 redeem an otherwise utterly heavy, characterless physi- 
 ognomy. 
 
 The carriage of the Captain-General passed us several 
 times, wherein sat that official, with one or two of his 
 staff, all smoking and staring like their brethren on foot. 
 He was a stout man, with a stolid face, and an ennuye 
 air ; and I could not help a sad wonder, as I encoun- 
 tered his dull gaze, if those two bright, rollicking boys of 
 his that I had seen just before, could ever grow up into 
 so many pounds of heavy, inert flesh, and take on such 
 a burnt-out, inanimate cast of countenance. I hope it 
 was not wicked to think it were better for them to go 
 down in their painted skiff to the bottom of the tran- 
 quil water, and leave their images pure beside the 
 water-lilies on its banks ! 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 COLUMBUS. THE CATHEDRAL. 
 
 ~^TEAR one corner of the Plaza de Armas is a small 
 Grecian chapel, standing, tradition affirms, on the 
 spot where Mass was first celebrated in Cuba, under the 
 direction of Columbus. A comparison of dates and 
 records shows the statement to be hypothetical; as far 
 as regards the presence of Columbus, — which is prob- 
 ably a bit of that green, mossy growth wherewith Time 
 loves to deck the hard, gray outlines of Fact, — but there 
 seems to be no reasonable doubt that this is the site of 
 the performance of the first Mass. The interior of the 
 chapel is nowise remarkable; it contains a bust of 
 Columbus and three historical paintings, all of very 
 moderate merit ; and is opened to the public but once a 
 year, on the feast of San Cristobal, which is made an 
 occasion of much solemnity. In front of the chapel is a 
 courtyard, with a handsome iron gateway bearing aloft 
 the royal arms of Spain, encircled by the ever-recurring 
 motto, " La siempre fielisima isla de Cuba "/ and about 
 half-way between the gate and chapel stands a monu- 
 mental column, which bears on one side, in Spanish, the 
 following inscription :— 
 
50 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 " The city of Havana was founded in 1515, and when it was 
 removed from its first site to the shores of this harbor, in 1519, 
 there stood on this spot a luxuriant Ceiba tree, under which, it 
 is said, was celebrated the first Mass, and the first Council. It 
 survived until 1753, when it became sterile ; and in order to per- 
 petuate its memory, our Catholic Sovereign, Ferdinand VII., then 
 governing Spain, caused this monument to be erected. Field 
 Marshal Don Francisco Cajigal de la Vega, Knight of Santiago, 
 being Governor and Captain-General of this Island, and Doctor 
 Don Manuel Philip de Arango, LL.D., being Attorney-General. 
 A.D. 1754." 
 
 It will be observed that the above mentioned Ceiba 
 tree must have been more than three centuries old when 
 it "became sterile;" as Cuba was discovered in 1492, 
 and the first Mass could not have taken place many- 
 years later. Not less than fifty years could have sufficed 
 to make it the "luxuriant" tree it is stated to have been, 
 as the Ceiba is slow of growth, though it attains to an 
 enormous size, and is one of the most striking trees in 
 Cuba. It is often a hundred feet in height, sending up 
 a strong, massive, sinewy trunk to more than half that 
 distance, when it divides into brawny, wide-spreading 
 branches, and covers their delicate sprays with a thick 
 green canopy of velvety leaves, — the whole bearing a 
 striking resemblance to a mighty umbrella. 
 
 The inscription, quoted above, is repeated in Latin 
 on another face of the monument; and on a third is 
 still another, of the following import : — 
 
 "D. 0. M. 
 
 " The most illustrious and august hero, Christopher Columbus, 
 famed for his nautical skill, after having discovered a New World 
 
THE CATHEDRAL. 51 
 
 and given it to the crown of Castile, died at Valladolid, May 20th, 
 1506. His body, being given in charge of the Spanish Carthu- 
 sians, was transferred, at his own request, to the Church of the 
 Metropolis of Hispaniola * When peace was concluded with the 
 French Kepublic, his remains were removed from thence to the 
 Cathedral of the Virgin Mary of the Conception; the principal 
 religious orders assisting at the solemnities, Jan. 19th, 1795. The 
 city of Havana, honoring the memory of so great a benefactor, 
 treasures his remains unto the last great day. 
 
 " The illustrious Senor Don Philip Joseph Trespalacios being 
 Bishop, and His Excellency Don Louis de las Casas, Governor and 
 Captain-General." 
 
 Few stories have so deeply stirred the world's heart 
 as that of Columbus; few pictures are so clear to our 
 mental vision as the calm, noble figure of the great 
 Genoese, standing on the prow of his miserable, leaky- 
 vessel, with a background of dark, mutinous faces, and 
 straining his eager, confident gaze over the unknown 
 seas, for a first glimpse of that New World which had so 
 long limned itself upon his imagination, or beckoned to 
 him in his dreams. I turned my steps toward the Cathe- 
 dral, therefore, with something of the spirit in which 
 devout pilgrims, in Catholic countries, seek out the tombs 
 of saints and martyrs. 
 
 The "Cathedral de la Yirgen Maria de la Concep- 
 cion " (to give its name in full) is a large, quaint struc- 
 
 * Hayti was named Hispaniola, or New Spain, by Columbus ; 
 its" "metropolis" was St. Domingo. It is curious to note how 
 successfully these islands have resisted all foreign christening. 
 Cuba was successively named Juana, Fernandina, Santiago, and 
 Ave Maria, but still clings to its first Indian name of Cuba. 
 
52 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 ture of stone, with a pillared front, a tower at each 
 angle, and a hoary, crumbly, moss-grown surface. It 
 is not beautiful ; it would scarcely be imposing but for 
 its age and the spiritual grandeur which invests and 
 transfigures it. For the edifice that contains the ashes 
 of Columbus must needs have a* moral sublimity far 
 more impressive than any mere majesty of architecture ; 
 they honor the walls where they lie more than the 
 grandest mausoleum could honor them. And in truth, 
 no building repays long study, unless its walls contain 
 some ideal structure or shadow forth some Divine truth, 
 vastly more grand and beautiful than aught which meets 
 the outward gaze ; and whenever this sentiment, or soul, 
 of the structure is lost sight of, and you feel yourself 
 compassed about and overborne by barren facts of stone 
 and mortar, height and depth, color and finish, better 
 turn your bagk upon it and go your way, ere the hard, 
 unyielding details of the Actual have conquered and 
 cast out the richer, nobler, lovelier vision of the Ideal. 
 Mass was being celebrated as we entered the shadowy 
 portal, and the nave was partly filled with kneeling 
 figures of women. I but half noted these things, how- 
 ever, in the first, quick glance that I sent round the 
 building, in search of its chief object of interest ; and 
 having found that, I saw nothing further. A mural 
 tablet, in the choir, on the left of the high altar, shows 
 where the remains of the Great Discoverer rest finally, 
 after their several .sojourns at Valladolid, Seville, and 
 San Domingo, before they were brought hither and 
 inurned in the chancel wall. The tablet is of white 
 
THE CATHEDRAL. 53 
 
 marble, and presents in alto-relievo a bust of Columbus, 
 with nautical instruments grouped underneath, and the 
 following inscription: 
 
 " Restos e Imagen del grande Colon ! 
 Mil siglos durad guardados en la Urna, 
 T en la remembranza de nuestra Nation." * 
 
 This seems rather meagre, but it suffices to bring the 
 whole familiar story of that marvellous life before the 
 spectator ; and leaning against a 'convenient column, I 
 gave myself up to the contemplation thereof, and the 
 reflections inseparable therefrom. I thought of his long, 
 patient struggle, his short, brilliant triumph, his sud- 
 den, unmerited disgrace ; I remembered his unflinching 
 courage, his high-soulecL devotion, his patience under 
 provocation, his generosity in success, his dignity in 
 misfortune ; until, at last, bowed and broken — far less 
 by the toils of an adventurous life, the long sickness of 
 hope deferred, or the persecutions of enemies, than by 
 the coldness and treachery of friends, and the " serpent's 
 tooth" of ingratitude — he gave up the long struggle, 
 and died with the pathetic request that his chains (those 
 chains wherein he had been brought back from the hem- 
 isphere which he had discovered, to the country which he 
 had enriched by the magnificent gift ! ) might be buried 
 with him in the Island of his love. Poor, proud, broken 
 
 * A literal translation of which is, — 
 
 " remains and image of the great Colon ! 
 Endure for a thousand ages, guarded in this urn, 
 And in the remembrance of our nation." 
 
54 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 heart ! its long ache over, its indignant throbbings 
 stilled, it rests tranquilly in the bosom of the beautiful 
 " Queen of the Antilles," the fairest jewel in the crown 
 of that realm which repaid the donor with coldness, 
 ingratitude, imprisonment, and neglect. Yet thus has 
 the world ever treated its benefactors, even as it cru- 
 cified its Christ ! O hearts that toil and yearn for the' 
 good of your race ! — O eyes straining your gaze across 
 the ocean of discovery for some yet unfound help or 
 consolation or beauty ! — look for no reward here but the 
 iron that enters into the soul and the crown that 
 lacerates the brow. Yet be not discouraged ! but so 
 labor and so pray that ye may receive your reward 
 hereafter from the hand of Him, whose sweet words 
 float down to us through the wrong and the discord of 
 nineteen centuries, " Not as the world gives, give I unto 
 you." 
 
 The thread of my meditations was broken by a 
 light touch on my shoulder, and a priest at my elbow 
 said, very politely, and in good English, " Will you 
 please to kneel ? " I heard him make the same request 
 of other visitors standing near, but, as far as I could see, 
 without producing any effect, except that one or two 
 drew back into a somewhat less conspicuous position, 
 near the wall. However, it seems to me both discourte- 
 ous and irreverent, to listen to any religious service 
 without paying some token of respect to its intent, or 
 to the proportion of truth which it contains ; and as a 
 pleasant-faced Spanish girl close at my feet, with a 
 courteous gesture, made room for me on her bit of 
 
THE CATHEDRAL. 55 
 
 carpet, I sank down beside her in the desired posture. 
 It was beautiful and fitting, I thought, in that vast, old 
 temple, with the tomb of Columbus preaching solemnly 
 of earth's mutations and disappointments, that I should 
 join my foreign sisters in a fervent prayer that, as Christ 
 was .lifted up on the cross for the whole race of man, so 
 we, and all who believe on Him, might be lifted above 
 the ambitions, the temptations, and the cares of the 
 world, into a purity of life and a charity of temper 
 becoming His followers. But it was impossible to pre- 
 serve a devotional frame of mind long; thoughts of 
 Columbus, of Romish dogmas and corruptions, recol- 
 lections of a simpler and more helpful ritual in the home- 
 tongue and the home-land, chased each other swiftly 
 through my brain: and I was glad when the service 
 allowed a change of posture, and I could sit comfortably 
 {squat were the more descriptive, though less elegant, 
 term) on my carpet, and gaze around me like my neigh- 
 bors, — only without the pretence, or the mechanical 
 habit, of devotion, which kept the beads of their 
 rosaries sliding through their slender fingers, and their 
 lips moving with inaudible " Pater Nosters " and " Ave 
 Marias." 
 
 There was a number of priests at the altar, twelve or 
 fifteen, at least, — all dignified of mien, and reverent of 
 manner. The *intoning of the service was unpleasantly 
 loud and harsh, and the echo from the marble walls was 
 like the blare of a trumpet. There was no choir but the 
 priestly one, which was accompanied by an extremely 
 fine, sweet-toned organ. There was somewhat more of 
 
56 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 ceremony in the lighting, placing, and carrying of wax 
 candles, and the swinging of censers and burning of 
 incense, than I have observed in the service of the 
 Romish Church in the United States ; and at one time 
 an altar-boy offered a small golden vessel — probably 
 containing a relic — to the lips of the devotees nearest 
 the altar, who kissed it with great apparent reverence 
 and eagerness. 
 
 The interior of the Cathedral is far finer than its 
 outside warrants. The lofty dome and vaulted roof are 
 supported by tall pillars of marble ; there is some very 
 fine masonry of stones of divers colors, whereof the 
 dominant hue is a sunny yellow ; and the walls are 
 richly frescoed, though the colors are somewhat dimmed 
 by time. The high altar is a magnificent affair, consist- 
 ing of a base of various kinds of marble supporting a 
 dome and pillars of porphyry, under which is a statue 
 of the Immaculate Conception ; but it is covered with 
 such a medley of images, candlesticks, artificial flowers, 
 and tinsel, that all idea of sacredness is quite lost in its 
 irresistible suggestion of a toy-shop. Behind it is the 
 bishop's throne ; and around are the stalls for the priests, 
 of richly wrought mahogany, with carved heads of the 
 apostles over them. Various smaller altars and shrines 
 are ranged along the side- walls, each with its appropriate 
 pictures, doll-like images dressed in tinsel and tawdri- 
 ness, artificial flowers, and bones of saints preserved in 
 alcohol like diseased specimens in a surgeon's office ; but 
 I brought none of these things away in my memory, 
 except a hideous, distorted image of the Mater Dolorosa, 
 which, having once seen, it is not easy to forget. 
 
THE CATHEDRAL. 57 
 
 The floor was of variegated marble, unincumbered 
 by seats, except a few benches running from pillar to 
 pillar up the nave, for the accommodation of foreign 
 visitors. In the body of the church knelt the dark-eyed 
 Habaneras, telling their beads with a graceful, piquant 
 turn of their small hands, and taking calm note of all 
 that was going on around them, ' at the same time. 
 Every few moments, a new-comer appeared, followed by 
 a servant bearing her square of carpet ; and when that 
 was duly spread for the mistress in the most eligible 
 vacancy, the servant knelt behind on the marble, with a 
 manifest expectation of sailing smoothly to heaven in 
 her wake. The ladies were nearly all dressed in black — 
 the prescribed costume for church-going, — wrEh the 
 graceful Spanish mantilla of black lace covering their 
 heads and falling around their shoulders. I was sur- 
 prised to see how much prettier, more delicate and more 
 womanly, they looked thus than as I had seen them on the 
 paseo; and I remembered half-remorsefully the sweeping 
 criticism on their personal appearance that I there regis- 
 tered against them. The young girl who had made 
 room for me looked positively lovely, with her eyes cast 
 down, their long lashes sweeping her cheek, and her face 
 partly shaded by her mantilla ; and just opposite was a 
 lady of regal beauty, whose large, black, steadfast eyes, 
 and statue-like grace and stillness of pose, held me spell- 
 bound with admiration. It was melancholy to think 
 that such loveliness should be disguised, degraded, 
 utterly lost, in those tawdry fineries of the paseo ! 
 
 Near the altar I saw a Franciscan monk in dark blue 
 3* 
 
58 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 gown with rope-girdle ; farther down was a Carmelite 
 in brown ; and an old negro, wrinkled, white-haired, and 
 bent, knelt in the shadow of one of the pillars, with a 
 touchingly devout and absorbed face — the only males 
 that I saw joining in the service. Several gentlemen, 
 mostly foreigners, lounged in the aisles outside the col- 
 umns, scanning, and commenting upon, the kneeling 
 women ; and many more were gathered at the door, wait- 
 ing to hand them to their volantes, as they came forth. 
 This service may be rendered to a lady by any gentleman 
 who is at hand ; and, if he be so minded, he can add a 
 compliment to her beauty, and it will be received with 
 smiles and thanks. Let him not presume upon this 
 graciousness, however, to accost her elsewhere; she 
 will probably ignore any previous knowledge of him, 
 and her nearest male relative will be prompt to avenge 
 the insult with pistol or stiletto. It is almost the only 
 thing in which you can expect a Spaniard to be in a 
 hurry. For every other hasty impulse, in business or 
 pleasure, he has a convenient, salutary proverb, " El que 
 se apresura, se muere, y el que no tambien" (he who 
 hurries, dies, and he who hurries not, dies also) ; but in 
 the matter of resentment, it is not even a "word and 
 a blow," but the blow comes first and renders word 
 unnecessary. 
 
 Mass being over, we commenced a systematic tour 
 of the building. Beginning with the side altars, we 
 found them to be mostly of solid mahogany, richly 
 carved and gilt ; with now and then a really fine old 
 painting by way of altar-piece. One of these is said to 
 
THE CATHEDRAL. 59 
 
 be a Murillo, but the evidence of its genuineness is 
 scarcely conclusive. Opposite to the tomb of Columbus 
 is a painting on glass, more curious and venerable than 
 beautiful, having been painted in Italy, and blessed by 
 the Pope, in 1478, some years before the discovery of 
 America. 
 
 Seeing us hesitate between two doors, a handsome 
 young deacon, or neophyte of some sort, came forward 
 and offered to guide us. Under his auspices, we took a 
 closer view of the high altar and the choir ; and were 
 especially delighted with the glorious vista of the inte- 
 rior church as seen from thence, with yellow rays of 
 sunshine and deep shadows of massive pillars and arches 
 intermingling on its marble floor. We also beheld the 
 rear of the tomb of Columbus, and glanced into the 
 little chapel of the "Virgin of Loretto," where two or 
 three penitents were kneeling, not so absorbed in their 
 devotions but that they returned our glance with interest. 
 In the vestuario, we were shown the robes of the priests, 
 of rich velvet, satin, lace, and gold and silver tissue, 
 often richly embroidered and adorned with precious 
 stones; also the altar linens and laces, of exquisite 
 fineness and beauty ; also divers silver crucifixes, candle- 
 sticks, censers, chalices, sprinklers, etc., etc. Our young 
 guide tossed these things about in a way that would 
 have made his superiors stare, I am certain ; he threw 
 a chasuble over Juan's broad shoulders, to give better 
 effect to its embroidery, put the incense, boxes to my 
 nose, and hospitably offered us a bumper of the sacra- 
 mental wine. He then led the way to the parish chapel 
 
60 MY WINTER UN CUBA. 
 
 alongside of the Cathedral, showed the large font con- 
 taining the holy water (of such capacity that it needs to 
 be filled and blessed but once a year), and offered to fill 
 me a bottle with the sacred fluid, if I desired. Next, he 
 led us through the shadowy cloisters, — worn smooth by 
 the footsteps of more than a hundred years! — to the 
 sunny inner court-yard, where flowers were blooming 
 and ancient fountains dripping ; and upon which looked 
 the windows of the ecclesiastical dormitories and offices, 
 and the galleries of the theological seminary of San 
 Carlos. On our way, we saw priests praying, hearing 
 confessions, reading, smoking, chatting, and promenad- 
 ing, and the sweet echoes of the organ and the deep 
 voices of the priestly choir followed us throughout, — a 
 second service being now in progress in the Cathedral. 
 Finally, our obliging guide showed us out through a 
 side-entrance at the right of the chapel. Here, I thought 
 I should have sunk through the floor, to see Juan take 
 out his purse and offer him a gratuity for his pains ! 
 But my mortification was wasted, inasmuch as he 
 accepted it without surprise or difficulty. I have since 
 learned that no one need scruple to hold out a real or a 
 peseta to anybody in Cuba from whom he has occasion 
 to receive the smallest service. 
 
CHAPTER Vm. 
 
 THE FISH-MARKET. 
 
 ii "TTTE will just look into la pescaderia" said Juan, 
 as we left the Cathedral. " It is close by." 
 
 " I would rather be excused,"g^iid I. " Fish have no 
 charms for me, at any point between the water and the 
 dinner-table. And as for a fish-market — faugh ! " 
 
 " But everybody goes," persisted Juan. 
 
 " I will be nobody, then, and stay away." 
 
 Nevertheless, Juan's native Spanish obstinacy car- 
 ried the day. The fish-market being reached, in we 
 went. 
 
 Nor was the visit ill-repaid. La pescaderia is built 
 of stone, with an arcaded front. The forms for the 
 reception of the fish are permanent structures of stone 
 or marble, with tiled tops ; and upon them is perhaps 
 the finest piscatorial display to be seen in the world ; 
 for the waters hereabout have a multifarious finny popu- 
 lation, some portion of which makes part of every break- 
 fast and dinner served in Havana or its vicinity. In my 
 tour of the market, I saw sharks, large and small, whole 
 and in fractions, — huge porpoises, waiting to be turned 
 into oil, tasajo, and canes, — rays, armed with wicked- 
 looking spines, — beautifully striped bass and parrot- 
 
62 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 fish, — immense flounders, — fish blue, green, silver, 
 golden, spotted, and rainbow-hued, — to say nothing of 
 snake-like eels, and shell-fish of every known and un- 
 known variety. It was impossible to avoid becoming 
 interested ; some of the monsters were fascinatingly 
 ugly, some of the smaller fry exquisitely beautiful ; and 
 I hung over the stands till Juan sarcastically observed 
 that the difficulty of getting me in was likely to be 
 more than equalled by the difficulty of getting me 
 out! 
 
 " What a fine building it is ! " I rejoined, somewhat 
 irrelevantly, looking up at the massive stone pillars and 
 arches, and comparing them mentally with the dinginess 
 and dilapidation of the larger New York markets. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Juan, " the market is a government 
 institution and monopoly, you know." 
 
 " But I don't know," returned I. " How should I ? " 
 
 Thereupon Juan told me a story. To the best of my 
 recollection and belief, it ran as follows : 
 
 In the days when Tacon was Captain-General of 
 Cuba,— that is to say, between 1834 and 1838, — a cer- 
 tain daring and skilful adventurer, half-smuggler, half- 
 pirate, named Marti, at the head of a number of lawless 
 men like himself, haunted and harassed the coast ; mak- 
 ing the neighboring Isle of Pines, of which he styled him- 
 self the " King," his chief stronghold and base of oper- 
 ations. With characteristic energy and determination, 
 Tacon at once set to work to capture the leader and 
 break up the band ; but after some months of ceaseless 
 
THE FISH-MARKET. 63 
 
 activity and vigilance, was mortified to see that he had 
 accomplished literally nothing. The light, fleet vessels 
 of the rovers, guided by men who were familiar with 
 every rock, shoal, channel, and inlet, of the waters 
 which they frequented, had laughed to scorn his whole 
 maritime force; while his coast-guard had been alter- 
 nately beaten and outwitted.. 
 
 Tacon now set another and more powerful agent at 
 work — gold. He offered a large reward and a free 
 pardon to any one of the band who would desert and 
 turn informer ; and double the sum for any information 
 that should lead to the capture of Marti, dead or alive. 
 The utmost publicity was given to these offers; they 
 were carefully posted wherever they would be. likely to 
 meet the eyes of the rovers, but for a time without ap- 
 parent effect, — the band of Marti held no traitor. 
 
 However, late one night, as Tacon was * writing in 
 his room alone, with a sentinel marching up and down 
 the corridor, a tall, dark man, wrapped in a military 
 cloak, quietly walked in from the antechamber. 
 
 Tacon sprang to his feet. "Who are you?" he 
 demanded, haughtily. " And how came you here, at 
 this hour, unannounced ? What do you want ? " 
 
 " One question at a time, Mccelencia" answered the 
 stranger, composedly. " It does not matter, at present, 
 who I am. I came by the door, as you saw. And I am 
 here to give information of great value to the govern- 
 ment. But it is for your ear alone. Therefore, speak 
 not so loud ; the entrance of yonder guard would seal 
 my lips, and tortures would not open them. Is your 
 Excellency willing to listen to what I have to say T y 
 
64 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 " Speak on," replied Tacon. 
 
 " You desire information of the island-rovers. You 
 have offered a princely reward for the capture of Marti, 
 their captain." 
 
 " Yes, yes ! " exclaimed Tacon, eagerly, — " what do 
 you know of him ? " 
 
 " Excelencia" replied the stranger, " I must needs 
 be cautious ; I would not criminate myself." 
 
 " Be easy on that point," returned Tacon, " a free 
 pardon is guaranteed to the informant." 
 
 " Suppose he were himself a leader among the rov- 
 ers?" 
 
 " It makes no difference," said Tacon, impatiently. 
 
 "A distinct understanding at first saves trouble at 
 last," replied his visitor, coolly. " Have I your Excel- 
 lency's word of honor that I shall receive the promised 
 reward, and an unconditional pardon for all past viola- 
 tions of the laws, — no matter what is my name and 
 character, — if I guide you to the secret haunts of the 
 rovers, and deliver Marti into your hands ? " 
 
 "You have." 
 
 " IZxcelencia, the Captain-General Tacon has been 
 called ambitious, despotic, even cruel ; but no one has 
 ever yet accused him of breaking his plighted word — " 
 
 "Nor ever will," interrupted the general, haughtily. 
 
 The dark stranger folded his arms with dignity. 
 
 " jSenor, one half of my part of our compact is ful- 
 filled. I am Marti — and in your hands." 
 
 Tacon started, and almost involuntarily extended 
 his hand toward a brace of pistols lying on the table. 
 
THE FISH-MARKET. 65 
 
 The rover stood unmoved and motionless. Instantly- 
 recovering himself, the general drew back his hand, 
 eyed his visitor keenly, mused for a moment, resumed 
 his chair, and began a low, business-like conversation, 
 which we need not follow. 
 
 Early on the next morning, a man-of-war in the 
 harbor was ordered to prepare for an immediate cruise. 
 At noon, Marti was sent on board, under guard. His 
 directions were to be obeyed strictly, as long as he 
 seemed to be acting in good faith ; but he was to be 
 shot down without delay at the first indication of 
 treachery. The rover, however, had not the least in- 
 tention of turning back in the path upon which he had 
 entered. One by one, the hiding-places of the rovers 
 were visited, their stores seized, their vessels captured, 
 and themselves made prisoners, by the help of the chief 
 whom they had refused to betray ! 
 
 When the work was complete, Marti returned to the 
 general to claim his reward. "You have kept your 
 word," said the latter, " I keep mine. ' Here is your 
 pardon ; and here is an order on the treasury for the 
 sum of " 
 
 " Mccelencia, I have thought better of it," inter- 
 rupted Marti. " The treasury is low, the payment of 
 so large a sum will be inconvenient. I propose an 
 exchange. No man on the island knows the fishing- 
 grounds so well as myself. Give me the exclusive right 
 to the fishing, and the . fishing trade, in the vicinity of 
 Havana, for the next twenty years, and you may keep 
 the order. I will build a public market that shall be an 
 
66 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 ornament to the city ; and at the end of the twenty years, 
 both the market and the right shall revert to the gov- 
 ernment." 
 
 "Agreed," said Tacon, after a moment's consider- 
 ation. 
 
 At the expiration of the time specified, Marti was 
 the richest man in Cuba. The market and the right 
 then reverted to the government, which has since re- 
 tained it. 
 
 " And how did Marti end finally ? " I asked, when 
 the story was done. 
 
 "Died in his bed, with the consolations of the 
 Church. Beyond that — one doesn't care to "follow 
 him ! " replied Juan, with an expressive shrug of the 
 shoulders, as he turned away to examine the writhing, 
 flouncing load of a newly-arrived fisherman. 
 
 Seeing me leaning somewhat wearily against one of 
 the pillars, a good-natured fish-wife wiped the end of a 
 bench and pushed it toward me. 
 
 " Thank you," said I, sitting down. And I added, 
 by way of explanation, — " I have spent the whole 
 morning in the cathedral." 
 
 " Ah ! no wonder la pobre nina is tired," said the 
 woman, compassionately. "But isn't it a beautiful 
 church ! " And she brought the tips of thumb and 
 fingers to a focus and kissed them ecstatically, which is 
 the tie plus ultra of Cuban encomium. 
 
 "It is very fine," said I, somewhat less enthusi- 
 astically. "But the tomb of Columbus interested me 
 most." 
 
THE F1SM-3IAEKET. 67 
 
 She looked puzzled. 
 
 " Of Colon," I repeated. " You have heard of Cris- 
 tobal Colon." 
 
 " Oh, yes," she replied, smiling. " But he is not 
 dead ; he still lives." 
 
 " Lives ? — ah, yes — I suppose so," responded I, won- 
 dering if she meant " en la remembranza de nuestra 
 nation" and thinking that she didn't look quite like it. 
 
 " Si, sefiora" she replied, calmly, " he keeps a cigar- 
 shop just below here." 
 
 Shade of Columbus, didst thou hear her ! 
 
 I repeated the dialogue to Juan. " What would you 
 have ! " said he, laughing. " Columbus has nine thou- 
 sand nine hundred and ninety-nine namesakes on the 
 island ; you may find them in worse places than cigar- 
 shops. And as for history! — if you should ask that 
 woman who is the present Captain-General, she would 
 tell you c Tacon ! ' I think I heard, in the United 
 States, that there were people who regularly voted for 
 Jackson, at every presidential election." 
 
 The ground being thus taken from under my feet, 
 nothing remained but to thank " that woman " for her 
 courtesy, and depart. I had already discovered that 
 she was not a mulatto, as I first thought, but a native, 
 with an extremely limited acquaintance with soap and 
 water. In truth, it is astonishing to see how small a 
 supply of those articles suffices for the daintiest Cubana 
 of them all. Instead thereof, she keeps a bottle of 
 aguardiente (a kind of rum) on her toilet-table, with 
 which she moistens the corner of a napkin, and rubs 
 
68 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 her face, neck, and hands ; beyond which she seldom 
 goes. Water, she assures you, is "very bad for the 
 skin ; " and is dangerous in the extreme if you happen 
 to have a cold. And if any one gets more than a daily 
 allowance of a pint of water and a twenty-inch square 
 of towel, in a Cuban hotel, he has richly earned it by 
 browbeating the landlord and scolding and feeing the 
 servants. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 SHOPPING. — STREET SIGHTS. — LA PUERZA. 
 
 rpHE delights of shopping, " on the American plan," 
 are unknown in Cuba. In cases of rare importance 
 and urgency, the ladies drive to the shop-doors, and 
 such goods as they wish to examine are "brought out to 
 them. A clerk standing by a volante, displaying piece 
 upon piece of delicate linen lawn and sheer pinato the 
 fair inmates, or trying pair after pair of kid and satin 
 shoes upon their dainty feet, is no unusual sight. 
 
 In general, however, when a Gubana wants any- 
 thing, from a spool of thread to a silk robe, she calls, 
 in a voice more clear and penetrating than soft, — for 
 bells are also among things unknown, — " Atanasia ! " (or 
 Juana, or Maria, one of which names will be sure to fit), 
 and some unadulterated, unmitigated Africaness comes 
 forth from her lurking place, turbaned and barefoot, 
 and drops her slovenly courtesy. To her, " la senora " 
 delivers a writing, setting forth the nature, quality, and 
 quantity, of the article which she needs ; and the mes- 
 senger goes forth, and presently returns with a consid- 
 erable assortment of the goods required, on her head 
 or in her hands ; to be examined and selected from in 
 the lady's own room, assisted by a small crowd of chil- 
 
70 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 dren, servants, and other disengaged members of the 
 household. Time is of no account in the transaction. 
 Frequently, the servant trots back and forth four 
 or five times between mistress and shops, cheapening, 
 questioning, and exchanging, ere the bargain is con- 
 cluded ; and nearly the whole day is consumed in the 
 business, — i. e., the servant's day. Another phase of 
 the affair is also noteworthy — the number and value of 
 the goods thus entrusted to an ignorant, stupid servant. 
 On one occasion when a set of jewelry was the thing 
 desired, Atanasia shuffled home with twenty or thirty 
 sets, varying in price from ten to fifty dollars! The 
 science of thieving cannot have reached the perfection 
 here which it displays in the United States : — in our 
 modern Sodom, she would have been obligingly relieved 
 of her burden on the first corner ! 
 
 I was well aware, therefore, that it was a daring 
 breach of universal custom to sally forth, on foot, for a 
 morning's shopping, after the American fashion ; but I 
 trusted to my foreignness to excuse the innovation ; and 
 I knew that I could depend upon Juan's broad shoulders, 
 and grave, well-known Spanish face to shield me from 
 all unpleasantness. To confess the truth, I was in that 
 state which is common to the American female mind, in 
 view of shopping — perfectly sure that I wanted some- 
 thing, but by no means certain what ! Or, to state the 
 case more fairly, I wished to find some small trinkets or 
 bijouterie — whatever might turn up — of unquestionable 
 Cuban manufacture, and as full of pleasant suggestions 
 of Cuban climate and manners as a rose is of perfume, 
 
SHOPPING. 71 
 
 to serve for mementos of Havana, and gifts to Mends 
 at home. If further justification of the step be re- 
 quired, it must be found in the fact that I was dying (in 
 a figure) for want of exercise. Up to this time I had 
 made use of " Cuban feet," i. e., the volante. I now 
 desired to satisfy myself, by a brisk walk, that my own 
 were still fit for service, and not Cubanized into merely 
 ornamental appendages, good for nothing under the 
 sun but to adorn with fanciful French boots and slip- 
 pers, and repose upon a footstool for the admiration of 
 all and sundry. I had tried to keep them somewhat in 
 training by pacing up and down the galleries and roofs 
 of the hotel, followed by the wondering gaze of its 
 Cuban inmates, till I was indescribably sick of the tame 
 performance. All the more, that it invariably recalled 
 the forlorn image of a royal lion which I once saw march- 
 ing restlessly up and down his narrow cage, with a 
 disdainful indifference to all spectators, and an eye of 
 sorrowful longing for the freedom of his native jungle. 
 
 Juan and I were soon deep in the intricacies of 
 the narrow streets of the old city — so narrow that 
 a stranger is apt to pass the first hours of his explo- 
 rations in wondering when he will get out of the 
 lanes and into the streets; but he will find only a 
 few worthy of the name, and those outside the walls. 
 In the older streets, I was often obliged to flatten myself 
 against the walls of the houses, to avoid being swept 
 off the narrow pavement by the furious passage of a 
 volante ; a vehicle which dashes so recklessly through 
 the streets and round the corners, that, if the wide, high 
 
72 , MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 windows were less strongly iron-grated, it would be 
 certain to plunge headlong into a drawing-room now 
 and then, in some of its rash turnings and erratic pro- 
 gressions. Many of the streets were quite roofed with 
 awnings, stretched from side to side ; and it was easy 
 to imagine one's self walking under the vast tent of 
 Peri-Benon, of Arabian Nights' fame, if there were only 
 a few turbans and caftans about to help out the illusion. 
 In truth, there is an almost ridiculous incongruity 
 between the quaint, Oriental aspect of Cuban archi- 
 tecture and manners, and the modern French fashions — 
 stove-pipe hats and , dose-fitting pants. In one sense, 
 certainly, Paris is " the world." 
 
 The walls of the houses are often two or three feet in 
 thickness, built of an irregular mixture of stones and 
 mortar, and then stuccoed and painted. Although they 
 are seldom of more than one story, the front wall is not 
 less than twenty feet high, the top being ornamented with 
 urns or carvings, and the roof sloping back to an interior 
 court, upon which most of the rooms open. If the house 
 boasts of two stories, the lower part is occupied as a 
 store, or devoted to the kitchens, offices, and stables ; 
 and the upper floor is reached by a wide staircase from 
 the court, leading to a corridor above. The entrance 
 is wide and lofty; the doors are double, of exceeding 
 thickness, and further strengthened by bands and 
 knobs of brass or iron till they look fit to resist a 
 battering-ram ; and the windows are without glass 
 and iron-grated like a prison. The floors are of 
 marble, tiles, or stucco ; the walls whitewashed or fres- 
 
SHOPPING. 13 
 
 coed ; the ceilings high, and often open to the roof, the 
 beams of which are made presentable by painting, stain- 
 ing, or carving. 
 
 But, before the stranger has time to notice all these 
 peculiarities of Cuban dwellings, his eyes are dazzled by 
 their brilliancy and variety of color, where all the hues 
 of the rainbow meet and mingle in odd and bewildering 
 contrasts. One house has walls of a light green, with 
 pink cornices and mouldings ; its neighbor is a delicate 
 blue, with salmon trimmings ; the next is gray and 
 orange, with some admixture of white, — or lilac and 
 yellow, or pink and blue,— all shimmering and quivering 
 in the hot, glowing air, until it seems like a vast, radi- 
 ating, dissolving view. Nevertheless, after the first 
 surprise is over, and your eyes are a little wonted to the 
 dazzle, you discover that these vivid tints are in ex- 
 quisite keeping with their surroundings. The tropics 
 suggest color and demand it. It cannot easily be too 
 profuse nor too gorgeous, albeit a better taste might 
 preside over its use. 
 
 You are next made sensible of the peculiar com- 
 pound odor of the streets of Havana, very perceptible 
 to newly-arrived noses, but not so easily resolvable by 
 them into its components. The scientific formula would 
 probably read something like this : — " smoke of tobacco, 
 four parts ; steam of garlic, three parts ; aroma of negro, 
 two parts ; miscellaneous garbage, one part." Never- 
 theless, Havana is not an unclean city in some senses of 
 the word ; it has none of that griminess and stickiness 
 of filth wiiich makes New York an abomination to the 
 4 
 
74 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 eyes and a stench in the nostrils, at certain seasons of 
 the year. The dryness of the atmosphere and the arid 
 sunshine, transform most impurities into a fine, cloudy 
 dust ; which is kept down in the city by means of 
 sprinkling, but becomes a sufficient nuisance on country 
 roads, — for during my month's stay in Cuba, there has 
 been no rain. 
 
 Strangest thing of all, perhaps, to a foreigner, is the 
 fact that as soon as he appears on the streets of Havana, 
 he is taken into the very heart of its domestic life. The 
 broad doorways are wide open, and the window-gratings 
 do not, in the least, obstruct his observation of what 
 occurs within. As he passes along, so close to the win- 
 dows that he could easily thrust his arm between the 
 iron bars to its full length, he sees ladies chatting and 
 sewing — rocking, meanwhile, as if their lives depended 
 on the regularity and continuity of the vibratory 
 motion ; he sees children playing, and servants dusting 
 and scrubbing, and meals being served and eaten ; he 
 even gets glimpses of cooking, washing, and other 
 domestic processes, going on in the courts and kitchens 
 in the rear ; and he may possibly find himself involun- 
 tarily witnessing the finishing touches of a fair seilo- 
 rita's toilet. If a lady plays or sings, it is for the 
 benefit of the entire neighborhood, stationary and tran- 
 sient ; if there is a conjugal quarrel, every passer-by gets 
 a taste of its bitterness ; and there is a continual cheery 
 interchange of greetings between the inmates of the 
 dwellings busied about their ordinary occupations, and 
 their neighbors and acquaintances passing by in volantes 
 
SHOPPING. 15 
 
 or on foot — the salutation always being " Adios!" 
 which answers to our " Good by," instead of the 
 hurried "How d'ye do?" which serves us for chance 
 meetings. 
 
 The " Calle de Mercaderes " is the Broadway of 
 Havana, though the streets of Obispo and Ricla are 
 scarcely less busy and attractive. Jewelry stores are 
 many and handsome; dry-goods and fancy-goods are 
 everywhere ; book-stores are good, though not plentiful. 
 A certain corner store makes a specialty of wax-tapers 
 for the devout, displaying them of every size and color, 
 from an immense waxen pole that might serve as a sign 
 for a barber's shop, to tiny pink, blue, and white tapers, 
 fit for illuminating fairy halls. A certain other is 
 devoted to abcmicos, otherwise fans, ranging in price 
 from fifty cents to a hundred and fifty dollars ; the first 
 of which the shopman tells you is " dumb," that is, 
 incapable of the fan-language wherein the Cubanas are 
 so well versed, and consequently not worth a groat for 
 purposes of flirtation ; while the latter, he assures you, 
 will lay the whole male population low at your feet. 
 " See what a fine snap it has ! " he proceeds, opening 
 and shutting it with a report that nearly makes you 
 jump out of your skin. And having exhausted both 
 language and gesture upon its perfections, he ends with 
 that kiss on the finger-tips which signifies things unut- 
 terable. Linens and laces are temptingly cheap ; so are 
 palm-leaf hats ; so are Spanish books ; but having sat- 
 isfied all reasonable wants in these lines of trade, better 
 shut your ears and your purse. Unless you like to go 
 
76 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 to La Dominica^ and lay in a stock of guava jelly and 
 marmalade for the home-table. It is good, it is cheap, 
 it will keep (with proper care) till the end of time. Buy 
 a hundred dollars worth, by all means — if you can 
 afford it ! 
 
 The merchants do not put their names over their 
 doors, but each shop has its own pretty or fanciful title 
 which figures alluringly on its sign ; and when your bills 
 are sent home you find that you are indebted to " The 
 Pearl," " The Sunbeam," " The Casket of Jewels," " The 
 Garland of Flowers," " The beautiful Marina," or " The 
 Ladies' Delight," instead of plain John Jones, or Seth 
 Brown : and you pay them with unwonted pleasure, the 
 sweet suggestions of the poetic names having shed a 
 golden sheen over the otherwise prosaic transaction. 
 
 But, oh ! the fabulous prices that those dark, hand- 
 some, villainous shopkeepers, with their courtly bows 
 and complimentary phrases, had the face to ask me for 
 their wares ! and the smooth falsehoods that they poured 
 into my amazed ears, swearing, by every saint in the 
 Spanish calendar, that articles which had the marks of 
 French and German manufacturers legibly stamped upon 
 them, were wholly and immitigably Cuban — Cuban from 
 their earliest inception to their latest finish! It was 
 very amusing, too, to see how evidently Juan was re- 
 garded in the light of an inconvenient and provoking 
 obstacle in the way of trade ; and how one salesman 
 sought to engage his attention, and get his back turned, 
 while another attempted slyly to impose upon me some 
 worthless, tinselled article, with a magnificent price. 
 
SHOPPING. 77 
 
 After patient investigation, I came to the conclusion 
 that the only articles of indubitable Cuban workman- 
 ship, were cigarette holders, palm-leaf hats, canes of 
 manati skin, a coarse kind of shoes of undressed 
 leather, for plantation wear, and a few articles of kitch- 
 en and bedroom furniture. If I had insisted upon any- 
 thing further, I must have taken samples of sugar, mo- 
 lasses, and cigars. 
 
 As a last resource, I sought for stereoscopes, hoping 
 to get some faint shadows of the beauties, the quaint- 
 nesses, or the antiquities of the city, to help me to bring 
 them more vividly before the vision of home friends. 
 Many of the merchants were persuaded that such things 
 had been taken sometime, and were for sale somewhere, 
 — others thought not, — and after hunting the " some- 
 where" through fifteen or twenty shops, I concluded 
 that the last were right, and gave up the search in dis- 
 gust. For it was verging toward noon, and I was heat- 
 ed and weary with my long walk through the close 
 streets and burning summer air. 
 
 I went out of my way a little, however, on my re- 
 turn route, to take a look at " De Soto's fort," the oldest 
 fortification on the Island. It was erected under the 
 auspices of the discoverer of the Mississippi, to protect 
 the little town from the depredations of French and 
 English buccaneers, when it was only a stopping-place 
 for Spanish vessels plying between S pain and Mexico. 
 It is a gray, weather-beaten, antiquated structure, so 
 much of it as belongs to the original fort ; but it has 
 been roofed over, and topped by ah additional story, to 
 
IS MY WINTER* IN CUBA. 
 
 make it serve for barracks; which modern climax de- 
 stroyed whatever interest and inspiration I might other- 
 wise have gotten out of it. I could have shaken myself 
 for the irreverence and irrelevance, but instead of think- 
 ing of De Soto's romantic voyage and adventures or 
 picturing the long, heart- wasting watch of his wife, Isa- 
 bel de Bobadilla, for the return of the husband who had 
 already found a grave beneath the Mississippi's yellow 
 waters, I was perversely reminded of certain patched-up 
 photographs that I have somewhere seen ; in which the 
 smart coiffure and sprightly features of a modern belle 
 were fitted on to the stout, comfortable figure, and old- 
 fashioned garments of her grandmother ; or a boy's 
 rosy, chubby face was joined to the shrunken limbs 
 and " lean and slippered pantaloon " of an octogenarian. 
 Neither did there seem to be any sufficient reason for 
 this absurd resemblance, since the additions to the fort 
 do not appear to be of very recent date. 
 
 And now, friends mine, go back with me to the ho- 
 tel, and from an airy, shaded balcony, look out over the 
 city and suburbs, gilded with noontide glory. See how 
 the sunshine gathers all things in its passionate embrace, 
 — spires, houses, palms, and gardens, — and breathes 
 over them a soft, delicious languor. The air is full of 
 the soothing murmurousness of gauzy-winged insects, 
 swarming and floating and shining ; and somewhere afar 
 is a faint, faint sound that must come from the ocean. 
 The atmosphere is of a mellow, creamy tint, quite differ- 
 ent from its clear whiteness at the North ; you think it 
 must have been filtered through gold or fused in a cm- 
 
SHOPPING. 79 
 
 cible with amber, ere it was shed over this enchanted 
 isle ; or you wonder how many ripe, gorgeous, glowing 
 sunsets it has dissolved and holds in solution, to give it 
 such wonderful softness of tone, and rare luminousness 
 of tint. Seen through this warm, palpitating medium, 
 objects do not stand out sharp and clear, as in our cold- 
 er atmosphere ; their outlines soften and waver and grow 
 vague and dreamy, and their colors are smoothed and 
 blended, until you cease to think about details, and 
 know only that you are living in a picture, and breath- 
 ing sunshine — sunshine which is sweetness to your lungs, 
 and repose to your heart. Your cares are soothed ; your 
 pains and ills fall from you like ill-fitting garments ; all 
 the dark realities of your life have a rainbow border, 
 like objects seen through a prism. Your intellect is en- 
 ervated, but your imagination is enriched ; you no long- 
 er aspire to be a philosopher, but you are inly persuaded 
 that you were born a poet, and have mysterious kinships 
 with palm-groves and flowers. Sweet snatches of rare 
 old songs come fitfully to your lips — gorgeous bits of 
 Arabian Nights, imagery float hazily through your mem- 
 ory — air-castles rise, rose-hued and radiant, on the sap- 
 phire foundations of the cloudless sky — existence is be- 
 come a luxury, and life a dream ! 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 FROM HAVANA TO MATANZAS. 
 
 " HA YE taken my last look (for the present) at the 
 
 tomb of Columbus, and my last drive on the JPaseo 
 de Tacon — I have enjoyed a final view from El Cerro — I 
 have said adois to our friends, Mrs. and Miss R., — I 
 have packed my trunks, I am going to Matanzas ! Un- 
 der a certain hospitable Spanish roof, in that second 
 city of Cuba, I am invited to spend some months. For 
 this I came over the sea, ^nd all my sojourning and 
 sightseeing in Havana have been but an idle loitering 
 by the way, a pleasant prologue before the drama begins. 
 Now, I am to plunge into the central flow of Cuban 
 domestic life, leaving every waif and suggestion of the 
 United States behind. Hereafter, I am to talk Spanish, 
 eat Spanish, live Spanish, — do everything but dress 
 Spanish, that is beyond my power of conformity ! 
 
 Juan rouses me from an after-breakfast day-dream, 
 to say that the cars will start in half an hour. " The 
 cars!" I repeat, half unconsciously, "we go by rail, 
 then?" 
 
 "Of course," says Juan, looking at me attentively, 
 " how did you expect to go ? " 
 
 " On the Emir's carpet," say I, still dreaming of the 
 
FROM HAVANA TO MATANZAS. 81 
 
 Arabian Nights, and Haroun al Raschid. " Or, at least," 
 — suddenly awaking to present quaint realities, — " in a 
 huge volante, with, twelve horses, and six postilions, and 
 no end of silver plate and jingle ! " 
 
 Juan's swarthy face darkens visibly. Pure-blooded 
 Spaniard that he is, with the true peninsular contempt 
 for Cuba — which is regarded merely as a mighty sugar- 
 cane, out of which the Home Government annually 
 squeezes sixteen or seventeen millions of revenue — he 
 is not yet prepared to hear, with entire equanimity, the 
 delectable and profitable province satirized, as he thinks, 
 by an alien and a Yankee. " You will travel," he replies, 
 slowly, and with dignity, " by as good a railway as ever 
 you saw in your life, smooth and level as a ballroom 
 floor; and at as rapid a rate as ever you did in the 
 United States." 
 
 Nevertheless, oh ! irate descendant of an hundred 
 hidalgos, permit me to think that a railway seems an 
 incongruity in Cuba : the harsh shriek of the locomotive, 
 echoing over the palnirfringed valleys, steeped in sun- 
 shine and silence, sounds shriller and more dissonant 
 than elsewhere. Ruskin opines that the world would 
 be better off without railways, and desires that the 
 capital thus employed might be diverted to the estab- 
 lishment and maintenance of schools ; and in Cuba, it is 
 easy to become a convert to his opinion. One is even 
 ready to go farther, and dispense with the schools also ! 
 I suspect the " Cubaneras" do it, in effect. Their con- 
 versation is a storehouse of vivid imagery, an inexhaust- 
 ible fount of graphic and animated narrative of home 
 4* 
 
82 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 incident and daily routine, — but woe to him who seeks 
 to convert it into a mine of information ! Now and 
 then, my New England temperament escapes for a 
 moment from the languid, soothing spell of the delicious 
 climate, and, " after its kind," asks questions. 
 
 "Can you tell me when the Morro was erected?" I 
 asked, one day, of a stout, placid Habanera. 
 
 " Dios mio/" exclaimed she, with a low rippling 
 laugh, " I am asked the age of the Morro, and I cannot 
 even tell my own ! " 
 
 No doubt thine ignorance was the true wisdom, soft 
 daughter of the tropical noon ! Cui bono to reckon how 
 many years the Morro has looked out on the shimmering 
 sea, or how few it has taken to mellow thy beauty into 
 its somewhat over ripeness? Albeit, not in the tropics 
 alone is the female memory unreliable with respect to 
 age. In lands nearer the Arctic Circle than the Equator, 
 I have met with the same mistiness of recollection. 
 
 On another occasion, I startled a dreamy seiiora, 
 lazily rocking herself to and fro, and deep in the luscious, 
 golden round of her third orange, with the question : — 
 
 " What is the population of Cuba ? " 
 
 Looking upon me, with eyes wherein amazement and 
 contempt were at a drawn battle, and with the grand, 
 imposing gesture of a tragic queen, she responded: 
 
 " What do I know about population ? Ask me how 
 many shirts my husband has, and I can tell you ! " 
 
 Possibly thou wert right also, ' languid child of the 
 sunbeams ! What need it matter to thee, or me, whether 
 a few thousands more or less of stately Spaniards and 
 
FROM HAVANA TO MATANZAS. 83 
 
 lithe Cubans drive, or fierce Coolies and brutish Africans 
 toil, in thine isle of perpetual summer? Can we not 
 lounge and dream our lives away in Boston rockers ? or 
 thrust our arms, shoulder-deep, into the cool, odorous 
 green of orange boughs, and pluck and eat the Hespe- 
 ridean fruit ? But wherefore said'st thou " shirts" oh ! 
 olive-cheeked and night-eyed daughter of the tropics ? 
 For " shirts " is humdrum and prosaic, suggestive of 
 close and wasting toil, of breaking back and straining 
 eyes, weary with eternal stitching of " band, and gusset, 
 and seam." If thou had'st said, "how many gold and 
 silken embroidered slippers," or sheeny and beaded 
 watch-cases, my discomfiture had been complete ! 
 
 Juan and I rattle and swing to the depot in a 
 volante. Then I am left in the waiting-room for some 
 moments, while he attends to tickets, permits and 
 checks. Here, I find myself, for once, the " observed of 
 all observers," — not so desirable a position, by any means, 
 as it sounds ! However, after returning as many of the 
 glances levelled at me as I can, conveniently, I decide 
 that my neighbors are justified in staring, if my travel- 
 ling costume is as much of a queerity to them as theirs 
 is to me ! The ladies are all attired in silk or muslin, 
 as if for an afternoon at home, without bonnets, gloves, 
 or wraps ; two only wear the Spanish mantilla of black 
 lace which I have seen at church. Their long trains — 
 which they never hold up — sweep the pavement. Their 
 flitting, glistening, coquettish fans — always in motion, 
 and now and then opened and shut with a sharp, sudden 
 -snap, only attainable by long practice — make the room 
 
84 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 as brilliant as if it were swarming with butterflies. 
 They have no parasols ; I have not seen such a thing in 
 use since I came to this Land of the Sun, where it would 
 seem to be almost a necessity. But Cuban ladies never 
 go out in the middle of the day, while the sun is hottest, 
 if it can be avoided. When they do, the overhanging 
 volante top is a sufficient protection, or if they choose 
 to ride with that thrown back, they face shine and wind 
 " like a man." No, I do not mean that, either — for the 
 men all wear hats ! Such exposure has its legitimate 
 effect on the complexion, and the " fair sex," in Cuba, is 
 uncommonly dark. 
 
 On the floor of the room are squatted some half 
 dozen negresses, in the capacity of ladies' maids. Their 
 heads are gorgeously turbaned, of course; but their 
 dress, in other particulars, seems designed for a broad 
 caricature of that of their mistresses. Others, in a 
 lower order of servitude, are clad in a single garment, a 
 coarse sort of "baby-frock," slipping off the shoulders, 
 and frequently gaping in the back enough to reveal the 
 shining ebony skin and firm, strong muscle beneath. 
 If, by any chance, one of these is so fortunate as to own 
 an under-garment, it is sure to be "Isabella" color; and 
 lest any of my friends should inquire forthwith for that 
 new tint on Broadway, or Main street, I will just 
 mention, en 2yassa?it i that it gets its name from a certain 
 Spanish Queen, who vowed to the Virgin that in consid- 
 eration of some favor which she desired, she would not 
 change her linen for a year. And she kept her vow ! 
 Isabella color is very common in Cuba. 
 
- FROM HAVANA TO 3IATANZAS. 85 
 
 . There are two railway routes from Havana to Matan- 
 zas. One, known as the " Regla route," is very direct, 
 and measures about sixty miles; the other winds 
 through the interior of the island, to bring out the 
 sugar crop, and lengthens the journey to nearly one 
 hundred miles. Being offered my choice, I designated 
 the latter, as it would give me a better opportunity of 
 studying the country. 
 
 The cars are quite homelike in appearance, bearing 
 the name of a well-known Massachusetts firm ; but so 
 dingy, from long use, as to suggest the need of a fresh 
 importation. They differ from ours only in having cane 
 backs and bottoms to the seats ; upholstery being almost 
 unknown in Cuba, as it is thought ill suited to the 
 climate. They who know how long my existence 
 vibrated between cushion and pillow, before I came 
 hither, will wonder that I live to make the state- 
 ment ; and the recollection of our luxuriously stuffed 
 furniture is infinitely aggravating to an invalid. More- 
 over, the Cuban race lounges so naturally and persist- 
 ently, I marvel that it does not provide itself with the 
 means to do it thoroughly. The comfort of a cane- 
 seated sofa is not patent, to me ! 
 
 My journey is a bewildering dream of beauty, — 
 albeit, with a touch of the fable of Tantalus about it, 
 inasmuch as I am borne swiftly past pleasant villas — 
 trees laden with tropical fruits — flowering vines, climbing 
 and rioting everywhere — lime and aloe hedges — dense, 
 dark thickets and jungles — bright, glancing waters — and 
 mazes of brilliant blossoms, belonging to an unknown 
 
86 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 flora, — yet cannot pause to touch, nor taste, nor even 
 look, long enough to imprint anything more than the 
 merest outline sketches on my memory. The stations, 
 as with us, are always located in the most uninteresting 
 spots ; — I find nothing there to repay attention, save a 
 few loungers and hucksters, in attendance to discharge 
 their respective duties ; i. e., stare at the train and dis- 
 pose of their wares. 
 
 I am somewhat surprised to discover that Cuba is 
 not so flat a country as its cane-growing reputation would 
 seem to indicate. To be sure, the valleys are quite 
 level, and admirably adapted to that kind of culture ; 
 but they lie between rocky and wooded ridges, and one 
 is never out of sight of the graceful, pleasing undula- 
 tions of a chain of hills ; or a blue, hazy mountain peak 
 is seen across a sea of cane fields, and satisfies the soul 
 with that sentiment of aspiration, that suggestion of 
 the infinite, without which the loveliest landscape soon 
 becomes monotonous. 
 
 The trees are a continual surprise to me. The acacia 
 is homelike enough, certainly, and I have become 
 familiar with the mimosa in our own Southern States, — 
 but the mango, with its dark, broad leaves, and wide- 
 spreading branches — the drooping, rustling coco, laden 
 with green, melon-like looking fruit — the bamboo, with 
 its slender, reedy stems, and graceful, pendant foliage — ■ 
 the banana, looking as if a sugar cane had suddenly 
 made up its mind to become a tree, and was in a fair way 
 to realize its ambition — the ceiba, giant of the forest, 
 lifting its magnificent, regal canopy high above every- 
 
FROM HAVANA TO M AT AN Z AS. 87 
 
 thing near it — the jaguey marcho, worst of parasites, 
 stifling the largest and strongest trees in its cruel, wily 
 embraces — the bomba, bearing aloft a fruit of the size 
 of a watermelon, strikingly suggestive of broken heads 
 to whomsoever may venture underneath, — these soon 
 exhaust my small store of interjections and exclamation 
 points, and leave me with nothing to say for the palm, 
 which follows us all the way in graceful groups and 
 groves, and is preeminently the tree of the tropics — 
 Beauty's last and most perfect Apocalypse ! 
 
 Now and then, across the dark, green billows of the 
 cane-fields, at the end of a long, straight avenue of 
 palms or orange-trees, we behold a large, stuccoed man- 
 sion, with ample provision of broad) shacly piazzas ; near 
 by are a long, flat roof, and a tall chimney spouting forth 
 dense columns of black smoke; several smaller build- 
 ings are grouped together in the vicinity; and the 
 whole looks like a miniature village, but is really an 
 " ingenio" or sugar plantation. Anon, we pass a de- 
 generate " cafetal" or coffee estate, which branch of ag- 
 riculture is slowly dying out in the Island. It looks like 
 a pleasant bit of landscape gardening, untimely arrested, 
 and given over to decay. But, as I shall have opportu- 
 nity, by and by, to examine and describe these things in 
 detail, I will not dwell upon them now. 
 
 Farther along, we discover a different kind of hab- 
 itation, a rude, and somewhat dilapidated, wooden struc- 
 ture, with rafters of bamboo covered with dried palm- 
 leaves, and surrounded by an acre or two of cultivated 
 ground. In the doorway, sits a slender, lithe, indolent 
 
88 M Y WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 figure, lazily puffing at a cigar, with a hound stretched 
 at his feet. This is a Cuban montero, a man that in 
 character and social status, much resembles the " poor 
 whites " of our South. It is difficult to say how he 
 lives, — for he has a lordly detestation of labor, — but his 
 wants are few, the soil beneath his feet is of incredible 
 fertility, the sky above him does not so much as frown 
 for many months in the year, and the climate is one of 
 marvellous friendliness and amenity. Bananas and ?na- 
 langas, growing almost spontaneously at his door, serve 
 him in lieu of bread ; the streams supply him with fish ; 
 and in order to breed game-cocks for his amusement, he 
 must, of necessity, keep a few hens. He is seldom, or 
 never, too poor to keep a horse, nor to load it with 
 queer, cumbrous, silver-mounted trappings. Astride of 
 this animal, which is at once' beast of burden and bosom 
 friend, he roams about the country in most idle, noncha- 
 lant, and independent fashion ; smoking, gambling, and 
 cock-fighting ; and investing any chance gains in lottery- 
 tickets. For the rest, he is quick-witted enough, but ut- 
 terly uneducated ; warm-hearted and generous, but quite 
 capable of repaying provocation or insult with several 
 inches of the heavy, silver-handled machete, or cutlass, 
 that hangs by his side ; and he is entirely without am- 
 bition, for the despotic Spanish laws rob him of every 
 incentive to improvement, and close every path to dis- 
 tinction. 
 
 At Melena, there is a longer detention than iisual, 
 until, the patience of the passengers being all "un- 
 wound from the reel," some one goes forward to investi- 
 
FROM HAVANA TO MAT AN Z AS. 89 
 
 gate. Then, we learn that we have been the subjects 
 of one of those gracious interpositions of Providence, 
 which awe the boldest heart, and make the most scorn- 
 ful lips tremble for a moment with something like a 
 prayer and a thanksgiving. Some portion of the engine 
 suddenly gave way, just as the train stopped ; and cer- 
 tain repairs, thereby made necessary, are the cause of 
 our delay. If the accident had occurred when the train 
 was in rapid motion, it is impossible to say what damage 
 and loss of life might have followed ! The intelligence 
 stops, for a brief space, even the incessant motion of 
 Cuban tongues, there is a silence and a shudder, and 
 many cross themselves devoutly, and say aloud, " Gra- 
 cias a Dios ! " (Thanks be to God !) 
 
 When we are again in motion, night is closing in ; 
 behind us is the Western rosiness, before us, the Eastern 
 purple gloom. Symbolic, it seems to me, of the won- 
 drous change which has been wrought in the world, 
 since Columbus came over the sea ; — for the West is no 
 longer the synonyme of ignorance, idolatry, and bar* 
 barism. Thither not only the " star of empire takes its 
 way," but the brighter luminaries of science, art, litera- 
 ture ; while over the once radiant Orient settle the dark 
 shades of superstition, the dim night of despotism, the 
 sombre gloom of decay. 
 
 We reach Matanzas at half past six, and I look out 
 curiously for a first sight of the spot which is now to be 
 my home ; but nothing can be seen distinctly through 
 the dark veil of nightfall. On the platform, Don Ce- 
 cilio, Juan's younger brother, greets me in courteous 
 
90 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 Spanish phrase, telling me that he throws himself at my 
 feet (though he does no such thing !), and conducts me 
 to the family carriage, — a large French barouche. On 
 the box is a coachman in such magnificence of crimson 
 and gold livery, and so pompous of mien, withal, that I 
 am quite awed by the sight, although he lifts his hat on 
 my appearance, and punctiliously holds it three inches 
 above his cranium, until I have taken my seat. But he 
 has the air of doing it as a specimen of finished deport- 
 ment, and for artistic effect, rather than out of deference 
 to anybody whomsoever. Then a rapid drive through 
 the gas-lighted city shows me that Matanzas has 
 many of the characteristics of Havana ; but the streets 
 are wider and the general effect' lighter and more airy. 
 Ere long, the carriage stops before the door of the Sam- 
 anos, the stately Don Enrique himself hands me out, I 
 am ushered into a large, brilliantly lighted sala, I under- 
 go a confusing number of ceremonious introductions, and 
 receive a corresponding amount of ceremonious Spanish 
 welcome. The house and its contents are unreservedly 
 placed at my disposal, and every member of the family 
 (figuratively) kisses my hand, or is laid at my feet. I 
 come out of it all with but one distinct impression, — 
 that my hostess, Doiia Coloma, is by far the prettiest, 
 most graceful, most spirituelle Oubana that I have yet 
 seen. 
 
 Now that some weeks of the quick, silent weaving of 
 the threads of habit have wonted me to the place and peo- 
 ple, it is* difficult to recall the strangeness, the bewilder- 
 ment, the almost forlornness, of that first evening among 
 
FROM HAVANA TO MATANZAS. 91 
 
 them, after Juan had gone forth in order to make sure 
 that neither counting-house nor fixtures had run away 
 during his absence, and I was left to my own slender re- 
 sources for the further prosecution of the acquaintance. 
 The Samanos knew no word of English, and my Span- 
 ish, having chiefly been used for book intercourse hith- 
 erto, was not sufficiently at my tongue's end to carry me 
 very smoothly through a sustaine4 conversation with a 
 roomful of strange people. So, after the most easy and 
 obvious topics had been exhausted, I looked at them, 
 and they looked at me ! and if Dona Coloma had not 
 had a marvellous store of animated and expressive ges- 
 tures at command, and an ease and grace of manner al- 
 together perfect, the situation must have been awkward. 
 But she smiled and nodded, and asked questions and 
 helped me to answer them, and improvised small panto- 
 mimes, and called upon the children to show me their 
 accomplishments ; and one of them played, and another 
 sang, and a third danced; and thus the evening wore 
 on, not unsmoothly, until eleven o'clock ; at which very 
 early hour, according to Cuban standards, I was allowed, 
 in consideration of my travel-worn condition, to with- 
 draw to my own room. If some shade of home-sickness 
 met me there with the insidious question whether, after 
 all, it was worth while to have come over the sea for 
 three or four months of this sort of thing, it shall not 
 dafken these pages. For the morning light dispelled it 
 with other shadows ; and in that shape, it visited me no 
 more. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 EVEEY MORNING. 
 
 • 
 
 OCARCE a fortnight had elapsed, ere I felt myself 
 thoroughly at home under the Samano roof, and 
 life had settled to a regular and familiar flow. Pos- 
 sibly there are those who would like to look closely 
 into its quiet current, to know what the home-life of 
 Cuba really is, what its occupations, its anxieties, its 
 pleasures, its vexations, its courtesies. For such, I give, 
 in this and the two following chapters, the history of a 
 day — of any and every day ; for, with few exceptions, 
 the faces of all are so much alike that it is hard to dis- 
 cover any distinguishing trait. 
 
 Scene opens about eight o'clock, A.M., in my room. 
 As the occupant thereof is buried in a profound slumber, 
 or steeped in the delightful languor of the very last 
 morning nap, you will have time to examine the apart- 
 ment and its furnishings, before the dramatis personal 
 appear upon the stage. It is long and narrow in shape, 
 and not less than twenty feet in height ; the open roof 
 showing plainly all the beams and rafters used in' its 
 construction. The floor is of quaint red and brown 
 tiles, and there is a Turkey rug before the bed, put there 
 since my advent, with some kindly intention, doubtless, 
 
EVERY MORNING. 93 
 
 of an approximation to my former habits of life ; but I 
 daily wish it were back w r here it- came from, the reason 
 of which ungracious and ungrateful sentiment will ap- 
 pear hereafter. The furniture looks meagre to an Amer- 
 ican eye, and lacks many things deemed essential to 
 comfort in homes now distant (geographically — but very 
 present to my inner vision !) ; yet it is fully up to the 
 Cuban standard, and comprises all that is necessary to 
 tropical life ; where nature does so much for one's com- 
 fort and pleasure that the shortcomings of art are easily 
 forgiven. By way of compensation, there is a super- 
 abundance of mere adornment, — the hangings, counter- 
 pane, sheets, pillow-covers, valance, and even the towels ! 
 being all elaborately trimmed with broad edgings and 
 insertions of lace, of Catalonian manufacture, and often 
 of fine quality. In this department, also, may be noticed 
 a dingy figure of the Virgin, of such extremely unlovely 
 and forbidding an aspect that the label underneath — 
 "Madonna de la Misericordia" — seems absurdly mis- 
 placed. 
 
 At the east end of the room, facing the street, is a 
 large window, of the usual quaint and clumsy con- 
 struction of all Cuban wood-work. It opens on a sort 
 of balcony, full fifteen feet wide, running across the 
 front of the house, and overlooking market-place and 
 bay. One end of this balcony is occupied by an aviary, 
 densely populated with South American birds of bril- 
 liant plumage, w^hose wild, piercing notes are among the 
 first sounds that greet me in the morning. 
 
 But the door opens. Enter Francisca, a young girl 
 
94 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 recently imported from the Canary Islands, and the only 
 white servant in the honse — white, by courtesy, mark 
 you, for there are really only degrees of dark in Cuba. 
 This child of nature has a queenly figure, a majestic 
 carriage, a bright face, and a voice as sweet as the birds 
 of her native isle. Her morning greeting, considered as 
 speech, is slovenly enough, being exceeding provincial ; 
 but regarded as sound, it is fresh and clear as a song. 
 She brings me a cup of fragrant coffee, with milk and 
 sugar, imparts such items of domestic news as are 
 already current, and vanishes. The coffee having been 
 sipped slowly, as becomes its quality, I rise and betake 
 myself to the chase — a regular morning pastime. Armed 
 with a pin and a piece of thin muslin lightly wrung out 
 in water, I proceed to turn over and examine carefully, 
 one by one, all the garments which I removed the night 
 previous ; hidden in the folds of which, hosts of blood- 
 thirsty cannibals — known to the scientific world as Pulex 
 irritcms, and vulgarly denominated fleas — are waiting, 
 with exemplary patience, to be put on again this morning, 
 and renew their banquet on human flesh. At the faint- 
 est glimpse of a black speck, down goes the cloth with 
 a vengeful slap ; which, being wet, embarrasses the 
 motions of the insect, and, being thin, permits me to see 
 its form distinctly enough to run it through with the pin, 
 which I do, " with a will." But I have learned not to 
 rely too confidently on its decease, even after this opera- 
 tion ; having had the mortification, on several occasions, 
 to see my captive, on the removal of cloth and pin, hop 
 off as gayly as if nothing had happened to it. In this 
 
EVERY 3I0RNINQ. 95 
 
 event, I pursue it through garments and across tiles ; 
 and here appears the great inconvenience of the afore- 
 mentioned rug, which is as discomfiting as a morass or 
 a furze-field to a sportsman. If the flea strikes that, the 
 chase is up, and the course of justice thwarted. I have 
 grown learned in flea-lore, through this " sharp prac- 
 tice ;" I think I could write a biography of one of the 
 race, with great minuteness of detail and accuracy of 
 facts. 
 
 The operations of the toilet are sometimes still 
 further retarded by the necessity of rubbing the starch 
 out of any articles needed from the last week's wash. I 
 have not yet succeeded in convincing Paula, the 
 laundress, that when I say, " No starch," I mean pre- 
 cisely that, and am prepared for no compromise what- 
 soever. The Cuban practice is to starch all garments, 
 without exception, to the utmost degree of stiffness. 
 How they manage to wear them, I cannot imagine. The 
 sensations of a foreigner are best described by a certain 
 Herr Wagner that I met in Havana. "The first time 
 that I sat down in a clean shirt from a Cuban laundry," 
 said he, "I thought I must have landed on a pile of 
 broken crockery. And when it became necessary to put 
 on a Cubanized night-shirt, I sat up till two o'clock 
 in the morning trying to rub the scratch and the crackle 
 out of it. As for pocket-handkerchiefs, you might as 
 well use sand-paper ! " 
 
 Being dressed, I step out on the balcony, where I 
 pray you to join me, for much may be seen from thence 
 which is novel and interesting to unwonted eyes. Lean- 
 
96 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 ing over the parapet, — which is thick enough to stand a 
 siege, and dates back to the last century, — you will see 
 that the house fronts on a large open space, in the angle 
 formed by the Bay of Matanzas, and the River San 
 Juan. Over the way is a row of volantes, waiting to be 
 hired ; in the middle is a string of packed mules, paus- 
 ing to rest ; nearer, a half dozen'drays, piled with jerked 
 beef from Buenos Ayres, or tobacco from* the famous 
 " Vuelta Abajo," or wine and oil from Spain, are waiting 
 to discharge their loads in the warehouses of " G. and 
 Co." Farther along are an ox-cart and team ; the yoke 
 is a clumsy wooden bar, laid on the animal's head, and 
 tied to his horns by stout ropes ; the draft comes, there- 
 fore, on the creature's horns and head, rather than on 
 his shoulders; and he is guided by means of a long 
 leathern thong, fastened into his nostrils. Soldiers, 
 sailors, pateanos, coolies, and negroes, are continually 
 passing, furnishing a gay and animated panorama for all 
 eyes that gaze. Street-venders are plenty and pictur- 
 esque. Yonder is a Chinese crockery peddler. His 
 stock in trade is contained in two large round baskets, 
 suspended from a kind of bamboo yoke on his shoulders. 
 He calls attention to his wares, not by a cry, but by 
 tossing in the air a half-dozen plates or saucers, and, by 
 the sleight of hand peculiar to his race, causing them to 
 fall one upon another as he catches them, with a sharp 
 clash and clatter that is heard above everything else. 
 Next comes a seller of dulces, — a neat-looking mulatto 
 girl or negress, with a basket on her head and a tray in 
 her hand, both filled with divers kinds of sweetmeats, 
 
EVERY MORNING. 97 
 
 suited to the popular taste ; by the preparation and sale 
 of which many decayed families support themselves, 
 sending their only remaining servant into the street to 
 dispose of them. After her comes a panadero, with a 
 huge, flat, covered basket on his head, and two or three 
 palm-leaf bags hanging on each arm. These are all filled 
 with bread, in the form of rolls, of excellent quality ; 
 which he is distributing to his regular customers. There 
 is no such thing as home-made bread in Cuba: the 
 bakers furnish an unobjectionable article, and deliver it 
 fresh at the door every day. On the plantations, it is 
 obtained from the nearest towns or railway stations. 
 Next, you see an odd figure of a poultry dealer, from 
 the country. He wears a hat like a small umbrella ; his 
 shirt is of striped linen, and very likely, hangs outside 
 of his pants ; he is perched on top of a large saddle 
 and a small donkey, and flanked by two great panniers, 
 out of which stick the heads of three or four dozen of 
 live chickens. Yonder is a negress crying " JVaranjas ! 
 nara?ijas, dulces ! " (sweet oranges) ; and another has a 
 basket of fresh cocoa-nuts on her head. This latter fruit 
 is always eaten here while the rind is yet green, and the 
 pulp soft enough to allow of its being stirred up with 
 the milk, and eaten with a spoon. It is said to be more 
 wholesome thus, than in the shrunken and dried form in 
 which it comes to us. 
 
 One of the saddest of the street-sights is the chain- 
 gang, on its way to the government works on the 
 quays, — a long line of vicious or stolid faces, marching 
 to the clank of the fetters which link them together in 
 5 
 
98 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 forced and fearful companionship: one of the funniest 
 is a patient little donkey, so thoroughly packed with 
 green corn, fresh cut for feed, that you see nothing but 
 a moving mass of verdure, reminding you of the 
 " marching wood of Dunsinane ;" unless the animal is 
 coming directly toward you, when you see his poor nose 
 in the midst of a circle of dainty green, just out of his 
 reach; and he might fitly parody the lament of the 
 " Ancient mariner " something in this wise : — 
 
 " Fodder— fodder everywhere 
 And not a lit to eat." 
 
 If you go to the farther end of the balcony, and 
 look into the " Calle O'Reilly," you may see a small 
 herd of cows standing at the side-entrance, and chewing 
 the cud, while the driver milks one of their number. 
 The first time I witnessed this, I inquired of my host if 
 he kept cows. " No," he replied, " it is only the milk- 
 man." I stared, and he explained that it is the custom, 
 in Cuba, for venders of milk to drive their cows to the 
 doors of their customers, and milk the quantity required, 
 on the spot. I commend the practice to my own 
 countrymen, nauseated with a deluge of stale or adulter- 
 ated milk. 
 
 At first, I found an infinite deal of amusement in 
 this motley show, but already the charm of novelty is 
 worn away, the quaint, graceful, or picturesque lines 
 smoothed to the tameness and soberness of every-day 
 life. But beyond it lies a view, of which one tires not 
 so easily — the beautiful bay, with waters now blue, now 
 
EVERY MORNING. 99 
 
 green — now heaving softly as the bosom of a sleeping 
 maiden, now lashed by the north-wind into white, dash- 
 ing crests of foam — now turned to molten gold by the 
 sunshine, now lined with a silvery moonlight path 
 that seems ready to take one to far-off, fabled islas 
 encantaclas — always full of ships lying at anchor, — with 
 flags and streamers of every nation and hue, and gayly 
 painted sail-boats and lighters, and steamers plying in 
 and out ; — a scene of brilliant and changeful hues, ever 
 new and ever beautiful. Nor is this all. The bay is 
 almost landlocked, and on either side stretch away 
 green hills, crowned with white villas and gardens ; and 
 into the dreamy distance drift groups of palms, and 
 stand clear drawn against the morning's blue or the 
 evening's pink and gold. Farthest of all — now veiled 
 in mist, now clearly lit by the daybeams, now crimsoned 
 and purpled with sunset lights and shadows — is the San 
 Juan mountain, where my eyes rest last and longest 
 as the most eligible point in the landscape whereon 
 Thought can stand a-tiptoe, and strain her eyes over the 
 blue ocean for just a faint glimpse of the dear ISTew 
 England hills, which are fairer now than ever before, as 
 seen through the golden medium of a " light that was 
 never on sea nor land ! " It is good to sojourn, for a 
 time, in a foreign country, — not only on account of the 
 fresh sensations, the enlarged experience, the new veins 
 of thought, which it opens to one, but to learn how 
 much of life's sweetness is compressed into that little 
 word "home." Cares and trials, it is true, enter its 
 charmed circle ; so the rose has many thorns, yet is 
 accounted fairest of all the flowers ! 
 
100 MY WINTER IX CUBA. 
 
 At ten o'clock, the gentlemen come in. They rose 
 early ; they partook of a cup of coffee and a thin cake 
 or cracker, and went forth to the quays, the custom- 
 house, the ware-rooms, the banks; for all out-door 
 business is done, if possible, before breakfast, ere the 
 day has reached its melting-mood. 
 
 Breakfast is now served. It is decidedly d la 
 fourchette. It might answer for dinner as well, by 
 reason of the variety and substantial "nature of its dishes, 
 except that it lacks soup and dessert. The first course 
 is always fried eggs and boiled rice. This seems to be 
 de rigueur ; after that, you may eat what you please and 
 in your own order. Doubtless, there is "a beefsteak pie, 
 mysteriously flavored; and there is certain to be a 
 tortilla con seso, or brain-omelette. Chops are plastered 
 with a mixture of eggs, herbs and olives, wrapped in 
 paper, fried, and served with the wrappers still on. 
 The stranger is often deceived by dishes which keep the 
 look of old acquaintance to the eye, but break it to the 
 taste. I was served, one morning, with what I took for 
 codfish cakes, but which turned out to be a wonderful 
 compound of chopped meat, raisins, tomatoes, eggs, 
 onions, mashed potatoes, and I know not what beside ! 
 I was unable to tell, after I had partaken of it, whether 
 I liked it or no, and my mind is not more clear about it 
 at this moment ! Fish are abundant and various. One 
 kind enchants our eyes with all the colors of the rain- 
 bow, the process of cooking not having in the least 
 impaired the brilliancy of its prismatic adornments ; 
 another is so minute that you wonder that people take 
 
EVERY MORNING. 101 
 
 the trouble to catch and cook it, nor is the problem 
 solved after you have eaten four or five at a mouthful. 
 
 There is a decanter of wine and another of water, 
 and a mixture of both is used. The glasses are a cross 
 between tumblers and goblets, and are always placed 
 on the table in finger-bowls, and remain there through- 
 out the meal. Coffee is served at the end. 
 
 The dining-room must needs be airy, for it is entirely 
 open, on one side, to the sky and the court. There are 
 jalousies, to be sure, but I never saw them closed. In 
 one corner is a piece of mahogany furniture, in appear- 
 ance half-safe and half-sideboard. Lifting the lid, a 
 large hemispherical stone basin filled with water is 
 disclosed, the bottom of which is pierced with a single 
 minute hole. Opened in front, it reveals a stout stone 
 jar, into which the water from the basin above trickles 
 slowly, drop by drop ; also two or three fancy jars, 
 with handles, for drinking purposes. Water thus 
 filtered, is pure and palatable, and tolerably cool. The 
 filterer is called an estellaclora, and a duplicate thereof 
 may be found in nearly every house on the island. 
 
 For the rest, the breakfast is merry and social, and 
 bright with the faces of children. The Samanos all 
 belong to the order of " born teases," and long practice 
 has given them wonderful skill in the art of provocation, 
 so that la senora leads rather a thorny life of it among 
 them. They are Spaniards, and she a Cuban ; therefore, 
 she is kept under a continual fire of jests and sarcasms, 
 touching the language, customs, and character of her 
 beloved compatriots. It is amusing to watch the little 
 
102 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 lady under this treatment ; at first she assumes an indif- 
 ferent and supercilious style of demeanor, determined 
 not to be teased; then she shrugs her shoulders, and 
 gives an expressive little gesture, as if she were shaking 
 off a shower of "paper pellets ; next her face begins to 
 darken, and her eyes to expand, and finally, the bucket 
 of her forbearance being overflowed by some particularly 
 tantalizing " last drop," a flash of forked lightning 
 darts from her black eyes, the words burst forth in a 
 torrent, and indignant remonstrance, energetic retort, 
 and expressive pantomime, are all marshalled into array 
 to confront and confound her foes. I think she would 
 have the best of it, if they were not so many ; but three 
 against one, each with a characteristic and skilful mode 
 of handling his weapons, is rather unequal odds. So 
 the warfare goes on, until one after another of the 
 assailants falls into paroxysms of uncontrollable laugh- 
 ter, — the Senora stops in the middle of a sentence, and 
 laughs too, and the skirmish is ended. 
 
CHAPTER Xn. 
 
 DURING THE DAT. 
 
 T3REAKFAST over, the working day begins. The 
 Cuban ladies, having far less pretension to the 
 name of " lilies " than their northern sisters, do likewise 
 toil and spin, — using these words to describe all sorts of 
 plain and fancy sewing, and especially, for an intermin- 
 able process of pulling half the threads out of a piece 
 of linen, and working over the remainder with an elabo- 
 rate pattern of leaves and flowers ; which seems to be 
 the very ne plus ultra of needle accomplishments, — be- 
 ing taught in all the schools. So, unless I have letters 
 to write, I join my hostess in her own or the adjoining" 
 room ; and we sew and chat together, the stream of our 
 conversation being subject to many interruptions from 
 children and servants. Exactly how many of the latter 
 there are I have not yet learned, as new faces are contin- 
 ually meeting me in out-of-the-way corners ; but they 
 are ugly, ignorant, good-natured, noisy, chattering crea- 
 tures, with not even a "gloamin' sight" (as Andrew 
 Fairservice would say) of the fact that there is a time 
 to keep silence as well as a time to speak. They are 
 continually dawdling about, in grotesque attitudes and 
 absurd attire, producing many quaint pictorial effects ; 
 
104 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 and affording much amusement to visitors, and a corres- 
 ponding amount of vexation and care to their employ- 
 ers. One of them, Juana by name, and belonging to 
 the African tribe of the Lucumis, is a continual study 
 to me ; I am so sorely puzzled to decide exactly what 
 nice degree of upward or downward gradation would 
 place her on a level with the baboon. When not at 
 work, she is usually found crouched in a corner making 
 mouths at the wall, or grinning at her own huge, ill- 
 shapen shoulder, which she has an apish way of slowly 
 lifting out of her loose-fitting frock, following it closely 
 with her eyes until it is on a level with her ear, and then 
 letting it fall with a grunt, which performance often oc- 
 cupies her pleasantly for a quarter of an hour at a time. 
 If called, she answers in the harshest, most guttural, 
 most unintelligible jargon conceivable, resembling more 
 the cry of a bird of prey than the human voice. 
 
 The cook is a Chinese, formerly one of the class 
 known as Coolies ; whose sombre, discontented, mutin- 
 ous faces meet one at every turn in the island, and stir 
 the heart with indefinable pain and pity. Ricardo, how- 
 ever, seems happy enough when he is in a good humor ; 
 he served out his term of bondage years ago, and is now 
 his own master, or, at least, may choose the whereabout 
 and mode of his service. He fills other and more im- 
 portant posts than his nominal one ; in reality lie is 
 steward, butler, and housekeeper. The kitchen commu- 
 nicates with the dining-room by a long staircase from 
 the court, up and down which he travels fifty time's a 
 day, in the regular discharge of his duties, but goes into 
 
DURING THE DAY. 105 
 
 a tearing passion if, by any chance or mischance, the 
 number is increased to fifty-one. And the rage of a 
 Chinaman, be it understood, is unmatched for fire and in- 
 tensity. The other servants, who quarrel among them- 
 selves all day long by way of pleasant pastime, fly be- 
 fore him, or huddle together like a flock of frightened 
 sheep ; while he hurls among them threats and anathe- 
 mas, like a shower of bombs, and apparently doing as 
 good execution. If the uproar penetrates to the sake, 
 or there seems to be danger that he may resort to other 
 and more dangerous missiles, Kicardo is summoned before 
 his mistress. In the attitude of a stage-hero, he listens 
 to an eloquent compound of reprimand, remonstrance, 
 entreaty, and gesticulation ; and departs humbled. If 
 all else fails, a threat of dismissal immediately reduces 
 him to order. It would break his heart to leave the 
 family, — especially the children, all of whom have been 
 born during his administration. Two or three years 
 ago he was suddenly taken with a fit of discontent and 
 would-be independence, and conducted himself in such 
 a manner that, one morning, his wages were quietly 
 paid him and he was told to go in peace. There was a 
 mournful leave-taking of the little ones, a silent packing- 
 up, and a moody departure. The day wore slowly away. 
 At dusk, Dona Coloma was desired to look into the 
 court. She beheld an affecting picture — in water colors. 
 The central figure was Ricardo, on his knees and dis- 
 solved in tears. Around him hung the children, also 
 dissolved in tears. The negro servants filled up the 
 background, likewise dissolved in tears. To avert an- 
 5* 
 
106 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 other deluge, she bade him return to his old quarters, 
 duties, and behavior ; which he did forthwith, greatly to 
 the satisfaction of all parties. Doubtless, he is a fixture 
 for life. 
 
 One of my chief amusements is to lean over the gal- 
 lery looking into the court, and watch Ricardo's prepa- 
 rations for dinner. His method is certainly original. 
 Just outside the kitchen is a long table for his conven- 
 ience, over which hangs a double row of hats, of every 
 shape, size, and hue, — straw hats, felt hats, silk hats, 
 sailors' hats, farmers' hats, gentlemen's hats, ragged 
 hats, brimless hats, crownless hats, black, white, and 
 gray hats, — -gotten, heaven only knows where, but 
 enough ! in number and variety, to stock a second-hand 
 hat shop. Out from the little recess of a kitchen, red 
 with the glow of a large furnace, rushes the Chinaman, 
 hair flying and frying-pan in hand — slaps hat the first 
 on his head with so furious a blow that it is a miracle 
 he does not knock himself flat — dashes frying-pan on 
 the table, and sprinkles the contents with salt — flies 
 back to the fire, and gives a kettle a stir and a shake — 
 darts out, seizes frying-pan with a flourish, and flings 
 hat to the farthest corner of the court — dashes frying- 
 pan on the fire, and stirs energetically for a moment — 
 makes a dart at another hat, and puts it on — snatches a 
 plate from a cupboard, and hurls it on the table care- 
 fully! — reproduces frying-pan, and inverts it over 
 plate — raises the dish to a level with his eyes, and 
 surveys it critically — shakes his head disapprovingly, 
 and sends hat the second spinning in the air — returns 
 
DURING THE DAY. 107 
 
 the meat to the frying-pan and the pan to the fire, 
 crowns himself majestically with hat the third, folds his 
 arms and falls into a fit of abstraction — rouses him- 
 self, produces a bake-pan, marches gravely into the 
 middle of the court with it, examines the contents 
 minutely, cuts a pigeon-wing of rapturous delight, and 
 hurls his third piece of head-gear straight upward, 
 which lodges on the roof — covers bake-pan, and dons hat 
 the fourth — dives into depths of kitchen and reappears 
 with a stew-pan containing vegetables — drains off the 
 water on the pavement, hurls hat the fourth into the 
 slop-barrel, and crowns himself with the next in order 
 of succession — transfers vegetables to a dish — suddenly 
 becomes conscious that he has transgressed a strict 
 rule that no slops shall be emptied in the court, and 
 makes a frantic rush at a towel — rapidly wipes up the 
 steaming liquid, puts towel into his pocket, and springs 
 up three feet with a yell — hastily pulls it out, and throws 
 it, in company with hat the fifth, at the furnace, in a 
 vein of severe irony, — brings out a soup-kettle, sets it 
 down in the court, stirs it, tastes it, walks around it, 
 shakes his head at it — flings hat the sixth at his head 
 with extraordinary accuracy of aim — adds divers condi- 
 ments to the soup and bears it to the fire — takes off his 
 hat, looks into it solemnly for some minutes — appears to 
 find what he seeks, for he puts it on again, and immedi- 
 ately pours the soup into the tureen — dishes up some 
 vegetables — takes tureen in both hands and commences 
 mounting staircase to dining-room — becomes suddenly 
 aware that he is still covered with hat the sixth, and, 
 
108 JVr WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 with a shake and a toss of the head, sends it rolling 
 down the steps — places tureen on the table, and goes 
 back for the other dishes — shouts for Francisca to come 
 and help him, and shies hat the seventh at her as she 
 descends the stairs; which performance goes on, with 
 slight variations, until his whole assortment of head gear 
 is strewn about court and gallery in curious confusion. 
 Juan asserts that if he were deprived of his hats he 
 could never serve the dinner creditably, and I am in- 
 clined to receive the statement in perfect faith. 
 
 At one o'clock, p.m., a certain dusky incarnation of 
 probity, Atanasia by name (who may not only be 
 trusted with untold gold, but will stand the severer test 
 of being left in charge of unnoticed and nearly value- 
 less trifles), gives a smarter set to her turban, shuffles 
 out, and presently returns with a basket on her head, 
 filled with fresh, yellow oranges, or ruddy bananas, and 
 topped by panales. These last are a confection of eggs 
 and sugar, made into white, frothy-looking bars, six or 
 seven inches long, and designed to be dissolved in 
 water, with a few drops of oil of annis, or the half of a 
 lemon, which mixture makes an agreeable and nutritious 
 beverage. Francisca peels the oranges as we do apples, 
 sticks a bar of the panal in a goblet of water, and brings 
 all to me, where I sit. This is our usual lunch, with 
 only some slight variation in the article of fruit. The 
 cashew, mamey, paw-paw, melado, citron-melon, guava, 
 etc., offer us, now and then, a choice between acidity 
 and insipidity; but none of them can institute any 
 successful rivalry with the*sweetness and richness of the 
 
DURING THE DAY. 109 
 
 orange and banana. The guava, though so great a 
 favorite when made into jellies and marmalades, has, in 
 its natural state, an intense flavor of rottenness, which 
 nothing short of a long course of persevering and deter- 
 mined effort, can bring a stranger to regard with aught 
 but the extremity of disgust. 
 
 The afternoon is so like the morning that you would 
 be puzzled to distinguish one from the other, except for 
 a slight increase of temperature, and a dimmer dreami- 
 ness in the mood of the air. The servants dawdle over 
 their avocations more sleepily than ever, rousing them- 
 selves occasionally with a little quarrel ; and it is 
 amusing to see how stately and courteous they become 
 at such time, hurling " Senor " and " Sefiora " at each 
 other, as if these titles were a new and efficient sort of 
 missile. Dona Coloma has finished one piece of work, 
 and taken another in hand, which she executes over a 
 long heavy cushion, held across her knees ; bending 
 over it with an industry and pertinacity wearisome to 
 witness. What prevents her and her sister Cubans from 
 stiffening into the shape of the letter Z, and growing to 
 their chairs ! By way of killing time, I inquire what 
 she is making. "A towel, for a birthday gift to a 
 friend." Said towel being a strip of fine linen, about 
 two yards long, across each end of which she is embroid- 
 ering, by the pulling-out-of-threads process, a border six 
 inches wide ; and which is further to be adorned with 
 rows of lace. When finished, it will be hung, scarf- 
 wise, across an ornamental knob, with which every 
 Cuban bedroom is furnished. Regarded as an orna- 
 
110 3IT WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 ment, it is an extremely pretty thing ; but I recommend 
 all persons given to much bathing, to provide themselves 
 with a dozen thick, durable towels, before they accept of 
 the hospitality of a Cuban roof; for nothing will there 
 be furnished them for their abstersions, beside the above- 
 described dainty, elaborate, altogether admirable, but 
 highly unserviceable " toallaP 
 
 Dona Mariquilla (a guest like myself) is busy with a 
 sort of scarf, composed of alternate strips of muslin and 
 embroidery, and edged with a frilling, of rich lace. 
 Pursuing my investigations in her direction, I am told 
 that it is a " sudario, for (as I understand it) un sefior ; " 
 i. e., a gentleman. Whereupon I commune with myself, 
 for a season, after this fashion. " Sudario — I wonder 
 what that means ! Obviously, from the Latin siidarium, 
 which signifies, primarily, a cloth for removing perspi- 
 ration, and secondarily, any napkin or handkerchief. 
 But this fanciful creation cannot be intended, even in 
 the most remote and exceptional way, for any such 
 service; neither can I conceive what possible use 'a 
 gentleman ' can make of it." Completely puzzled, but 
 not quite ready to confess my ignorance, I consult my 
 Spanish dictionary, and learn that " sudario " implies 
 " winding-sheet." Now, I have seen so many queerities 
 in the way of costume, and such abundant evidence of 
 the semi-barbarous taste of the Cubans for decoration 
 and bedizenment, that it would not surprise me to 
 behold a corpse decked out with marabout feathers 
 and gold lace ; so I accept this definition in perfect faith. 
 Composing my countenance, therefore, to a becoming 
 
DURING THE DAT. Ill 
 
 degree of solemnity, I next inquire of Dona Mariquilla 
 " if she has lost a near friend ? " She looks at me in 
 great amazement, and I am forced to explain myself. 
 
 " I understood you to say," I stammer, " that you 
 were making that — sudario for a gentleman, and I pre- 
 sumed it must needs be for some friend." 
 
 " Oh ! " returns she, smiling, " I said it was for el 
 Senor." 
 
 Now " el Seftor " signifies "the Lord." A winding 
 sheet for the Lord ! I seem to he innocently verging 
 toward blasphemy. " Dona Mariquilla," I exclaim, in 
 desperation, "will yon tell me precisely what a sudario 
 is, and what it is for ! " 
 
 Thereupon, the fat, good-natured, motherly lady, 
 in wide-eyed wonder at the heathen darkness wherein 
 I am groping, pours forth a voluble explanation that 
 this term is applied, in Roman Catholic parlance, to the 
 scarf which is usually wrapped around the loins of the 
 figure of Christ, in the crucifixes, common to every 
 house, and nearly every room, in Cuba. " She has one 
 at home," she goes on enthusiastically, "a splendid 
 one ! a very large one ! " (extending her arms wide to 
 give me an idea of its size), "and as a labor of love, 
 she is making a fine new sudario for it ; wherewith she 
 shall adorn it with great ceremony, when she gets home, 
 and invite her friends in to see how grand it is ! " 
 
 Now, I am getting used to small images of this sort : 
 there is one affixed to the wall of the room where we 
 are sewing, at this moment — a bit of lead run in a 
 mould, and then gilded — which excites no greater 
 
112 MT W1XTUR IN CUBA. 
 
 emotion in my mind than what is, I fear, a very un- 
 christian contempt for people who need such " helps to 
 devotion." But when it comes to an ugly Horror of 
 nearly life size, with thorns and nails delineated with 
 pre-Raphaelite minuteness, great, red drops of blood, 
 and a face of ghastly suffering, I am apt to turn sick at 
 the sight, and make a rush for the nearest point of 
 egress. Not that I do not realize, to the full, how 
 good it is for us all to have our "blessed Redeemer's 
 sufferings in continual remembrance, but not in that 
 grossly material shape, — which seems to make of the 
 cross merely a horrible instrument of human torture, 
 and robs it of all spiritual significance, all infinite 
 power, all ghostly comfort. Wherefore, Dona Mari- 
 quilla, if your house is shadowed by the presence of 
 such a nightmare of a crucifix, I retract, on the spot, 
 my promise to visit it. I do not think I could sleep 
 well under the same roof with so uncomfortable an 
 inmate ; and to grow familiar with, and careless of, its 
 dolorous aspect, would, it seems to me, be the worst 
 calamity of all. 
 
 My attention is next fastened on a ring, worn by 
 Dona Mariquilla, the stone of which is so peculiar, in 
 color and shape, that I beg to be allowed a closer 
 inspection. According to Spanish custom, it is imme- 
 diately placed " at my disposal " and its owner tells me, 
 unsolicited, that it is made of the tooth of her father, 
 which was extracted, to that end, after his death; 
 in order that she might have a part of himself as a 
 remembrancer! I restore the ring hurriedly, unde- 
 
DURING THE DAT. 113 
 
 cided whether I am most horrified at the cool hardi- 
 hood of the proceeding, as it first appears, or touched 
 by a certain curious, dreary pathos and tenderness, 
 which I discover to be latent therein. 
 
 The entrance of the two little ones, Christinita and 
 Rafael, creates a diversion. Both are stark naked — 
 the day being very warm — except for a tolerably thick 
 coating of the dirt from the court, where they have been 
 playing. Have you any notion how excessively filthy 
 a sullied naked child is ? Not the grimiest nastiness of 
 rags and tatters is at all comparable to it. Neverthe- 
 less, Christinita (who has a fancy for me) stretches up 
 her chubby arms and insists on being taken, with such 
 absolute confidence in my reciprocity, such entire faith 
 that she is going to be fondled and made much of, that 
 no human heart not wholly incrusted with stone, can 
 balk her expectation. So I swallow my disgust, and 
 take her on my lap, to rehearse the one English word 
 which I have taught her — " Pretty." Odila, cetat five, 
 knows several, only she has a curious knack at misplac- 
 ing them — invariably saluting me with " Good by, sir ; " 
 by way of morning greeting and emphatically pro- 
 nouncing things " all r-right " (with a preternatural roll 
 of the r) which she knows to be decidedly all wrong. 
 She can sing "Yankee Doodle," too, which she has 
 caught from Juan's habitual whistle, and which she ac- 
 companies with a queer, comic, impromptu dance ; for 
 Odila is a cross between fairy and imp, gifted with a 
 marvellous spontaneity of prank and caper, and can 
 dance in perfect time and character with whatever music 
 
114 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 is played before her. . She is also a child of many moods, 
 and of curiously extravagant expressions. In her happy 
 moments, she accords me a high place in her affections, 
 covering my hands, the hem of my robe — my feet even, 
 if she can get at them — with rapturous kisses, treating 
 my shawl, books, and other belongings, to enthusiastic 
 hugs, and calling me her " angel" her " amada" her 
 "linda lindisima" — when "presto, change!" — some- 
 thing goes wrong, and my devoted little admirer be- 
 comes a furious little demon, who stands, Samson-like, 
 clasping the stone pillars of the corridor, and wishing 
 she could pull the roof down on my head and her own ! 
 
 With her comes her shadow — an exceeding black 
 one ! It is round, grave, staring, and good-natured ; it 
 is aged five ; it is called Ramona ; it is the child of 
 Atanasia. It follows its little mistress everywhere, 
 shares her playthings, her candies, her scrapes, and her 
 punishments ; accepts her caresses and her blows with 
 the same placid satisfaction ; and never makes moan nor 
 murmur till bedtime brings the one thing unendurable, 
 — namely, separation, — whereupon, it sets up a howl that 
 almost raises the roof. 
 
 The children are soon engaged in a game of romps, 
 and the foreign observer is confounded by their fre- 
 quent use of the Sacred Name, — " Dios mio ! " being 
 the common expletive of small creatures who can scarce- 
 ly utter it plainly. Before I well know what I am about, 
 I am telling their mother how careful Christian people 
 are, in my own country, to instruct their children to 
 avoid such profanity, and how Society has taken the 
 
DURING THE DAY. 115 
 
 matter in hand, for those who are not Christians, and 
 made it a rudeness to swear in her courts. 
 
 She looks at me wonderingly, and says, " They are 
 good words, are they not? Why shouldn't we say 
 them ! " 
 
 A way of looking at the subject which would never 
 have occurred to me ! 
 
 It is now time for the two oldest daughters of the 
 house to return from school. But not alone, — public 
 opinion would condemn that, though the school were on 
 the next block. Atanasia is sent to act as their duenna ; 
 also, to bring back on her head, even as she carried it 
 forth this morning, a clumsy little chest containing their 
 slates, books, school aprons, and needle- work, the key 
 of which hangs by a ribbon from Dolorita's neck. Put- 
 ting a question or two with regard to the school's cur- 
 riculum^ I find it rather limited. Reading, writing, a 
 little arithmetic, and less geography, are counted all- 
 sufficient for girls! If more is insisted upon, a skim- 
 ming of grammar can be had. " "What possible use can 
 they make of anything farther, unless they are to 
 teach ?'" asks Dona Coloma. " Of course, we give them 
 all needful accomplishments." 
 
 Apropos to which, Dolorita's music-master bows him- 
 self in. That stately young lady of ten summers has 
 ; been diligently practising her piano-lesson (hitherto un- 
 touched) for the last fifteen minutes, in expectation of 
 his arrival. With outward patience, he endures a half- 
 hour of blunders and discords that must give him an in- 
 ward lockjaw. Thus far, the music-lesson might do as 
 
116 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 well for Boston as Matanzas ; but now comes a varia- 
 tion. He seats himself at the piano, and strikes the 
 chords of the piece that Dolorita has just played, be it 
 finger-exercise, waltz, study, pastorale, or what not ; 
 and she sings it, in a high, thin voice, but in passable 
 time and tune, making use of the syllables, — fa, sol, la, 
 fa, sol, la, mi, fa; — in which performance the remaining 
 half-hour is consumed. And this curious repetition of 
 the piano-lesson with the voice is a regular thing ; no 
 matter how ill-adapted for singing the exercises may be, 
 nor how far they transcend the compass of the child's 
 voice, — though the latter difficulty is partially overcome 
 by singing the notes an octave or two lower. I am un- 
 able to divine what is the object of this very peculiar 
 musical training. 
 
CHAPTER XIU. 
 
 EVERY EVENING. 
 
 A T four p.m., Ricardo appears before his mistress, 
 strikes an attitude, and announces dinner. As the 
 roof which shelters me is in the constant exercise of the 
 largest, most generous hospitality, and no amount of 
 unexpected company could cause any embarrassment 
 where the daily bill of fare is as varied and as bountiful 
 as ours ; I may venture on the liberty of inviting you 
 all to dine with me — after I have whispered in your ear 
 a timely warning. " Look not long into the soup, though 
 it be golden with saffron, neither linger with the pilau 
 of chicken, neither disport thyself greatly among the 
 vegetables dearest to thy heart ; for more things are to 
 come after than were ever dreamt of in any other philos- 
 ophy of dinner than the Cuban, and the guests are 
 expected to taste, at least, of all : therefore it behooves 
 them not to partake to their special delectation, of any ; 
 but to walk daintily and discreetly among the good 
 things provided, lest they be filled to repletion, ere they 
 are aware, and be compelled to choose, finally, between 
 the Scylla and Charybdis of bursting themselves or 
 offending their host." 
 
 Fortunately, the dishes are all placed on the table at 
 
118 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 the outset, so one has the advantage of seeing what is 
 expected of him. Soup, colored and flavored with 
 saffron, comes first, of course ; then the meat and vege- 
 tables boiled in the soup, — among which you will notice 
 bananas, or plantains, with the skins on; then salad. 
 Next come stews, in endless variety; then eggs, in 
 omelets ; then vegetables ; then infinitesimal roasts. 
 Yonder seems to be a meat-pie ; try it, by all means, 
 and see what you can make of the contents. " Chicken- 
 pork — tomatoes — onions — peppers — hard-boiled eggs — 
 almonds — raisins" — you stop confounded, "clams!" 
 (certainly, why not ?) — " olives ! " — and here you get 
 bewildered, and give up the investigation, wondering 
 what is not in a Cuban pie ! Taste the green peas, 
 stewed with tomatoes and eggs ; the string beans, 
 dressed like salad ; the baked beans, mixed with shrimps 
 or sausages. These things are to be eaten in course, and 
 your plate is shifted for every one. For drink, you will 
 have Catalonian wine, of undoubted purity; and the 
 Spaniards always mix it with water. Now comes the 
 fish, which has a different place in the Spanish meal, you 
 see, from that which it occupies in ours. There are 
 several varieties ; among them you will notice our rain- 
 bow-hued friend of the morning, which, in its border of 
 green leaves, is a study fit for the pencil of Claude Lor- 
 raine. Our host inquires if you will take " bacalao" 
 which somebody explains is codfish; and feeling quite 
 certain of your ground, you acquiesce, and receive upon 
 your plate a thick, dark, greasy mass, wherein the cod- 
 fish is so masked by oil, tomatoes, and the eternal saffron 
 
EVERY EVENING. 119 
 
 (which is one ingredient of all Cuban soups and stews) 
 that you will fail to recognize it as an old acquaintance. 
 
 Having steered warily through all these (and many 
 more, of which I spare you the full catalogue), you feel 
 yourself at peace with the world, and ready for the 
 dessert. First, we have preserves, all new to us, but all 
 most delicious ; then confectionery ; lastly, fruits. Then 
 the table is cleared, and coffee is brought ; so also is a 
 silver dish of lighted coals, called a ca?idela, and a bun- 
 dle of cigars. The master of the house lights one for 
 himself, and passes the bundle to his next neighbor. 
 Smoking is the one thing, which, in Cuba, momentarily 
 reduces all classes to a level. The coachman may ask 
 his master for " a light," the slave his driver, the soldier 
 his general-in-chief, and it is never refused ; and a mere 
 wave of the hand is sufficient, by way of thanks. Now, 
 if you dislike smoking as much as I do, you will make 
 your escape, returning thanks, generally, for what you 
 have eaten, and particularly, that you have been asked 
 to eat no more, for the extremest limit of human capacity 
 has been reached. 
 
 The next act of our day-drama is to come off out of 
 doors, to my great gratification. The almost constant 
 confinement within doors, to which the softer sex is con- 
 demned in Cuba, is extremely trying to foreigners, accus- 
 tomed to more freedom, and who have not, moreover, 
 the powerful and absorbing attraction of domestic cares 
 and duties to keep them steady within so contracted an 
 orbit. Now and then I get mutinous, and threaten to 
 go out and explore the city and suburbs by myself, on 
 
120 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 foot ; but Juan shakes his head gravely, and asserts that 
 I shall repent of it, in dust and ashes, if I do ; and his 
 sister looks profoundly disgusted at the mere mention of 
 such a thing. So, by way of apis-aller, I pace furiously 
 back and forth, from the front balcony, through sala, 
 dining-room, gallery, open passage, and laundry, making 
 divers circuits to avoid prostrate children and babies, 
 white and black, and encouraged by the plaudits of 
 half the household, gathered to witness the perform- 
 ance ; for a Cuban is unable to conceive of motion for 
 the mere sake of motion, and is disposed to regard as a 
 fool any one who prefers to walk when he can sit, and 
 as very far gone in idiocy if he chooses to sit when he 
 can lounge or lie down. 
 
 But the carriage waits. Dona Coloma in delicate 
 pina, Doiia Mariquilla in black grenadine, Odila in white 
 muslin and scarlet ribbons, the three-year-old Rafael in 
 the gorgeous uniform of a colonel in the Spanish army, 
 and myself, descend to the piazza ; and are handed into 
 the vehicle by Don Enrique, or Don Cecilio, or Juan, 
 one of whom leaves the counting-house to render us that 
 polite attention, and returns thither as soon as it is paid. 
 
 The senora directs her coachman in clear, bird-like 
 tones, which pierce through the rattle and clangor of 
 the vehicle. " Dobla al derecho, Amavedo ! " she cries, 
 and we go to the right ; "Al izquierda, Amavedo I dobla 
 al izquierda / " and we turn to the left with a lurch that 
 unseats us all, and makes it doubtful, for a moment, 
 whether we are in the carriage or out. But this is only 
 a cross-street, with a pavement that seems to have re- 
 
EVERT EVENING. 121 
 
 cently sustained the shock of an earthquake ; by and by, 
 we shall have smoother going. 
 
 First, we drive to the " Paseo de Versailles," which 
 is even finer than that of " Tacon " at Havana, inasmuch 
 as it lies along the margin of the bay, commanding a 
 view of the shining water, the ships at anchor, and the 
 encircling hills. On the left is the Campo de Marte, 
 where a battalion of soldiers, in gay uniforms, are going 
 through with their evolutions ; and at the end are the 
 castle and fort of San Severino. 
 
 Here, all Matanzas is to be seen at this hour, driving 
 up and down and around, exchanging nods and greetings 
 with acquaintances, and closely observing whatever for- 
 eign element presents itself. It is a brilliant and striking 
 scene ; yet it grows tiresome, taken as a regular dose, — 
 the same scenery, the same soldiers drilling, the same 
 people, day after day, with no variation except in the 
 toilets. So, now and then, I petition my companion to 
 leave the paseo, after a few turns, and go a little way up 
 the bank of the Yumuri or the San Juan ; both of which 
 rivers run through the city, and give to certain quarters 
 of it a Venice-like character. Or. we drive out to the 
 play a, a delightful strip of sand-beach on the south side 
 of the bay, where the children and I gather shells while 
 la senora waits and dozes in the carriage. But it is plain 
 that she finds it dull pastime, and I care not to take her 
 too often out of the groove wherein her life has run so 
 long, that it runs not satisfactorily elsewhere. Most fre- 
 quently we remain in the paseo until it is nearly dark, 
 when we follow the soldiers out on their march to quar- 
 6 
 
122 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 ters, see them defile in, while the band plays its last 
 piece, and then go home to prepare for the retreta. 
 
 This takes place in the "Plaza de Armas," a very 
 handsome square, laid out with walks, palms, and fra- 
 grant shrubs and flowers. In the centre is the inevitable 
 statue of some one of that succession of Ferdinands (I 
 believe it is the seventh), under whose auspices Spain 
 went so steadily down hill for four centuries, that she 
 finds it difficult to turn about and ascend, even now. On 
 the east side is the residence of the Comanclante, or 
 governor of the department ; on the north is the Z,iceo, 
 a mixture of lyceum and club-house, and the remaining 
 sides are filled with handsome dwellings and shops. 
 
 Eighteen years ago, in this square — so calm, so fair, 
 in its silver moonlight dress — fell Gabriel Concejycion de 
 la Valdez, a mulatto, a patriot, and one of the very few 
 popular poets of Cuba. He was accused of taking an 
 active share in that wide-spread movement of the slaves 
 to gain their freedom, which sent such a thrill of terror 
 throughout the island in 1 844. He was tried, condemned, 
 and sentenced to be shot. It is related that the first 
 volley failed to touch any mortal part, and the brave 
 victim, bleeding from several wounds, but erect and 
 undismayed, pointed to his head : "Aim Itere" said he, 
 with as steady a voice as if commanding a battalion. 
 The order was obeyed, and the second volley sent the 
 strong, heroic, yet tender soul, to a land where, we may 
 trust, it found gentler judgment for its errors, and wider 
 scope for its talents, than in that which gave it birth. 
 
 However, no shadow of that tragedy lingers here to- 
 
EVERY EVENING. 123 
 
 night. All around the enclosure is a broad pavement, 
 lined on either side with gas-lights and seats for specta- 
 tors. Outside of these are the volantes and quitrins, 
 closely wedged together, and filled with the beautiful 
 Matanzeras. The band is stationed at the foot of the 
 white statue, sprinkling the air with sweet sounds, even 
 as the flowers sprinkle it with sweet odors. Overhead 
 are the palms and the stars. It would be hard to find a 
 fairer, gayer scene. 
 
 The etiquette of Matanzas, less rigid in this particular 
 than that of Havana, allows ladies to alight from their 
 volantes, if they like, and take a turn or two around the 
 square, if duly escorted by father, or brother, or hus- 
 band. You see scores of them, therefore, walking round 
 and round, with that graceful, undulating motion pecu- 
 liar to Cuban women, and pausing, now and then, to 
 rest upon the seats. They are dressed as for an evening 
 party, — long trains of sheer muslin, or sheeny silk, sweep 
 the pavement — bright sashes wave — -jewels glisten — pol- 
 ished shoulders gleam white by gas-light, and rows of 
 gentlemen stare and comment as they list. It seems to 
 us a very public exhibition, and a little inconsistent with 
 the strictness of Cuban customs in other matters. 
 
 At nine o'clock the music closes with the celebrated 
 Cuban dance, — a strange, monotonous, half wild and 
 half sad melody, which makes you doubtful whether it 
 was intended to set you dancing madly, or to lull you to 
 a dreamy sleep. The Cubans, however, seem not to be 
 troubled by any such question ; you can see that their feet 
 involuntarily keep time to the music, and I am told that, 
 
124 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 at their balls, the sound of this favorite dance rouses the 
 most languid of them into a sudden enthusiasm and 
 intoxication of dancing. This over, the band marches 
 away to the sound of its own music, the volantes rattle 
 off, and the show is ended. Some of the promenaders 
 linger a while, if the evening is fine ; others go to the 
 "Loume" to eat an ice with barquillos, or take a cup of 
 coffee, and then the Plaza is left to the moonlight, and 
 the sentinels guarding the palace. 
 
 Very often, we go from the retreta, to pass an hour 
 at the house of another branch of the Samano family, 
 residing in the city. This abode shall be briefly described, 
 not as anything exceptional, but as a fair specimen of 
 an average Cuban city dwelling. 
 
 The marble floor of the hall is on a level with the 
 stone pavement of the street, and would join it but for 
 a somewhat elevated door-sill. Stepping over this, the 
 first object that confronts your astounded gaze is the 
 quitri?i, — elegantly trimmed and glistening with silver- 
 plate, it is true; but still, giving you the impression 
 that, by mistake, you are entering the house through the 
 stable! Between this hall and the sala is an arched 
 opening, closed by a light iron-grating, — the quitrin, 
 therefore, is always in sight ; indeed, in some cases there 
 is no division whatever, and the vehicle occupies one 
 end of the apartment in stately grandeur, but the room 
 is so vast that it is not in the way. Back of the parlor 
 is the dining-room, through which the horses are taken 
 to the stables in the rear of the court; their hoofs 
 striking sharply on the stone floor, and convincing the 
 
EVERY EVENING. 125 
 
 foreign observer that there are many good reasons for 
 the lack of carpets in Cuba ! I have had the pleasure 
 of witnessing this performance many times, with much 
 inward amusement, as you may imagine, and congratu- 
 lating myself, meanwhile, that my countenance is not 
 always the mirror of my thoughts. 
 
 Back of the dining-room is the court, over which an 
 awning is drawn during the heat of the day ; and in which 
 a few roses, lemon-trees, and vines, are growing, giving 
 it a cheerful touch of greenery and blossom. Upon it the 
 doors of the sleeping rooms open. All are on one level. 
 It is not unusual to see one end of the court roofed over, 
 to serve as a dining-room. 
 
 The large windows of the sala are raised one step 
 from the floor, strongly iron-grated, and project about 
 a foot into the street, affording an unobstructed look 
 out, and an equally unobstructed look in. If you are 
 passing outside, you often see the sefloras and seiloritas 
 standing in these, and gazing at the outer world through 
 the iron bars ; with so much of the aspect of prisoners, 
 that, at first, it makes you melancholy to look at them. 
 You fancy that they suffer from the tyrannous restraints 
 of their social customs, and are longing to escape. 
 Your compassion is utterly wasted. I do not believe 
 the desire to " get out," except in a volante to the paseo 
 or the retreta, ever enters the Cuban feminine mind. 
 
 Entering the sala you will find its furniture sepa- 
 rated by magnificent distances. There is a fine Erard 
 piano, a cane-seated sofa, two or three tables, and a few 
 good pictures. There is also in the middle of the room 
 
126 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 a double row of chairs (chiefly rockers) facing each 
 other, and with just space enough to pass between 
 them; and you will suspect that the children were 
 enjoying a game of cross-questions when you entered, 
 and there was no time to set things, to rights. But it is 
 the universal arrangement, and you will find it in every 
 sola on the island. The gentlemen are expected to take 
 one row, and the ladies the opposite one, unless there is 
 a disproportionate number of either sex, which makes it 
 necessary to encroach upon »the space allotted to the 
 other. Never take a seat elsewhere — you will commit 
 an almost unpardonable breach of decorum, — but if the 
 row is too short to accommodate a sudden influx of 
 visitors, a servant will straightway piece it out to the 
 required length. 
 
 A cellar-like dampness pervades most of the apart- 
 ments, and I am glad that the lines have fallen to me in 
 a dwelling of a different sort ; for Don Enrique, like 
 many Cuban merchants, lives over his counting-room 
 and warehouses, nor thinks his social standing at all 
 lowered by his so doing. Indeed, the Captain-General 
 himself must needs live over the government offices 
 when he is in town ; and of all curious Cuban combina- 
 tions, perhaps not the least curious are the very common 
 ones of elegant mansions with busy warehouses. 
 
 At the Samano reunions, we all sit in the inevitable 
 double row of chairs, in the middle of the sala, in full 
 view of the street, and rock and talk at each other at 
 about an equal rate of velocity. Sometimes, I am fain 
 to pass off my knowledge of Spanish for something even 
 
EVERY EVENING. 12 Y 
 
 less than it is, in order to escape from the weariness of 
 being civil and sociable in a foreign tongue, and to be 
 free to use my eyes and ears to the best advantage. 
 
 In one thing, the Cubans are less formal than we : 
 the use of the Christian name among friends and 
 acquaintances is universal, and also of the diminutives 
 " ito " and " ita" " Don" and " Dona " are prefixed 
 where a little more formality is desired. "jSenor " and 
 "senora" are used, alone, precisely as we use "sir" 
 and " ma'am " : they are allied to the surname when it 
 becomes necessary to distinguish which " Don Juan " or 
 " Dona Maria " is meant, or on occasions of extreme for- 
 mality. For formal introductions, and superscriptions 
 to letters, both titles are used, thus ; — Senor Don Juan 
 Samano," " Senora Dona Maria Samano." Very likely, 
 the latter would sign herself " Maria Degran, de Sa- 
 mano, — Legran being her maiden name, — and you 
 would be quite safe in addressing her accordingly. To 
 an unmarried lady senora takes the place of seftorita, 
 but Dona applies to both married and single. 
 
 In the circle whereof I write, my own Christian name 
 is already current, but so disguised by the prefix 
 "Dona," and the suffix " ita," and the Spanish pronun- 
 ciation of the initial letter, that I find some difficulty 
 in recognizing it as one of my belongings. 
 
 Listening to the talk around me, I am struck by a 
 peculiar, rising inflection at the end of every sentence, 
 and clause of a sentence ; tantamount to a note of 
 interrogation. Senora Arcila, moreover, introduces a 
 questioning " eh ? " between every particular of the 
 
128 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 remarks she is addressing to me, which seems to say, 
 " Do you understand it ? can you believe it ? " the 
 whole running something as follows : 
 
 " You see her uncle wanted to marry her, eh ? and 
 the Bishop of Havana forbade it, eh? and so they 
 sailed yesterday for the United States, eh? and they 
 will doubtless get it done there, if they pay hand- 
 somely, eh ? " 
 
 I venture to express my surprise that there should 
 be any question of marriage where there is such con- 
 sanguinity. Unto which she replies : " Why, I mar- 
 .ried my own uncle, eh ? did you not know it, eh ? We 
 had a dispensation from the Pope, eh ? — paid three 
 thousand dollars for it, eh ? " — and so on, until I am 
 ready to cry out, " Yes, yes, I believe it all and ten 
 times more, if you like ; only do talk like a Christian, and 
 not keep me nodding, after the manner of a Chinese 
 mandarin, with that eternal ' eh ! ' " 
 
 An odd, wizened, Don-Quixotic figure now enters, 
 leaning on a gold-headed cane, and bowing to the 
 ground. He is presented to the foreign lady with 
 empreasement, as Senor Don Miguel Santamaria. She 
 has heard of him before. He is remarkable, dietetically, 
 for having drunken nothing but cocoa-nut water (or 
 milk, as some call it) for twenty years ; and intellectual- 
 ly, as having written and published a book in praise of 
 that beverage, — also several poems. Somebody suggests 
 that he shall recite one of the latter for her delectation. 
 He does so, with a passion of emphasis and an energy 
 of gesticulation that are — to say the least of them — 
 
EVERT EVENING. 129 
 
 supererogatory. Some one then mischievously hints to 
 him that she has been known to string rhymes together. 
 Whereupon he lays his hand upon his mellow old heart, 
 and looking more Don-Quixotic than ever, protests that, 
 though he has often desired to know English, never did 
 he desire it so ardently as now, that he might have the 
 inexpressible pleasure of hearing her recite some of her 
 " versos," in return for his. Soon after, he casts himself 
 at her adorable little feet, kisses the hands of the mis- 
 tress of the mansion, and elaborately bows himself out 
 of the room. 
 
 Immediately, the roguish young Don Ruperto gravely 
 gives a perfect imitation of the old gentleman's voice- 
 and manner, even to the recitation of some of his verses, 
 and a wonderful fac-simile of his ceremonious departure. 
 Everybody laughs, but the mimic's mother, — she scolds." 
 Such treatment of their late visitor "is vergonzoso / — it 
 is escandoloso y — it is everything that is disgraceful and 
 discourteous ! " So it is ; but it is also very amusing. 
 
 "We are also entertained with music. Mercedes — the 
 eldest daughter of the house — plays exquisitely. Her 
 audience is not confined to the sala; an appreciative 
 group gathers outside .the window, and listens atten- 
 tively to the end. Every hat is then lifted, a low, but 
 emphatic " Gracias " is heard, possibly a compliment, 
 or two, to the young lady's talent and beauty follows ; 
 then the group scatters. Perhaps she acknowledges 
 this tribute by a slight bow ; perhaps not ; it doesn't 
 matter either way. 
 
 On one occasion, the lady of the house is excused 
 
130 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 from seeing us on the plea that she is " suffering from the 
 quarrel between the Bishop and the Captain-General." 
 I don't quite see how that can be a personal calamity, 
 and Dona Coloma explains to my puzzled face that it is a 
 Cuban custom to name epidemic colds after some recent 
 national or local misfortune. The last wreck, or pow- 
 der-mill explosion, or a possible invasion of jilibusteros, 
 or the resignation of a government official, is assigned 
 as the reason why your friend denies himself to you ; 
 which is to be understood as a pleasant way of saying 
 that he has an influenza. 
 
 If we spend our evenings at home, there is some- 
 times a rustle on the staircase at a late hour, and in 
 flutters a bevy of bright dresses and glistening fans ; the 
 toilets and their wearers being fresh from the retreta. 
 Children accompany their mammas, decked out in floun- 
 ces and white satin boots, and manage their fans and 
 eyes w^ith nearly as much skill. There are no introduc- 
 tions ; but those who meet in a friend's house enter into 
 conversation without that formality, and need not recog- 
 nize each other when they meet again, unless they 
 choose. Introductions are seldom given, without first 
 having asked the consent of both parties. 
 
 At ten, there is an informal supper of 2^>cicienzas (a 
 kind of hard biscuits) and wine, for those who like it, 
 and the day is over. Step out on the balcony with me, 
 and take a last look at the phantom ships on a silver sea 
 before us, and the " Southern Cross," gleaming on the 
 horizon's utmost rim, and spiritualized by its legend of 
 "In hoc sic/no, vinces" — and so, good night ! 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE VALLEY OF YUMURI. 
 
 /^V OCCASIONALLY, the foregoing programme is va- 
 ried by excursions to points of interest in the 
 vicinity. Among them, that to the valley of Yumuri 
 stands preeminent. It is said to be the loveliest spot in 
 all Cuba. It has been likened to the " Happy Valley " 
 of Rasselas, and the " Valley of Delight " of Rafi-Eddin. 
 It is declared that he who is not quite ready to yield up 
 his mortal breath at, sight of the bay of Naples, at once 
 succumbs to the valley of Yumuri. All of which it is 
 as well to believe. The tourist should have large faith. 
 The valley takes its name from the river flowing 
 through it. The latter, tradition affirms, was- called 
 Yumuri — which signifies "I die" — in commemoration 
 of the last words of a certain Indian, who was drowned 
 in its waters by the upsetting of his canoe. This also 
 the tourist will believe, though the river's current is 
 neither rapid nor deep. For the name is soft and 
 musical, and even this bit of a legend gives a kind of 
 historic interest to the stream ; inasmuch as the said 
 Indian must have been one of that gentle and simple 
 race which welcomed Columbus to these shores as a god, 
 
132 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 and which the Spaniard thereafter enslaved and exter- 
 minated. 
 
 Besides you and me, dear reader, the party will 
 consist of my hostess, and other members of the family, 
 Mrs. and Miss R. (recently arrived from Havana for the 
 purpose), and several invited guests. The gentlemen 
 and Miss R. are to go on horseback, the rest in volantes; 
 for we are told that no carriage could stand the rough- 
 ness of the road by which we are to travel. You and I 
 are a little surprised at this, not yet seeing what advan- 
 tage those cumbrous, noisy, swaying vehicles, whereat 
 we have laughed so much, can possess over a good 
 carriage ; but we shall be wiser ere our expedition is 
 finished. 
 
 We were to have started at three o'clock, but delay 
 seems always to be the first thing on the programme 
 where a large party is to be gotten off; and it is nearly 
 four when we descend, to find the saddle-horses stand- 
 ing on the stone floor of. the piazza, each held by a 
 swarthy, bright-eyed, half-clad boy, and the volantes 
 drawn up outside. Here, an unforeseen difficulty occurs. 
 The saddle intended for Miss R. is discovered to have 
 the horn and stirrup on the right side, according to 
 universal Cuban custom ; and she very naturally doubts 
 her ability to ride in such unwonted fashion. However, 
 she is persuaded to mount and give it a trial. Mrs. R. 
 and I are handed into a volante, the gentlemen spring 
 to the saddle, the servants, porters, grooms, etc., as- 
 sembled to watch " las' Americanos" wave courteous 
 adieux, and we are off. 
 
THE VALLEY OF YUMURI. 133 
 
 Don Enrique leads the way, on a handsome black 
 horse, which he rides like the accomplished gentleman 
 that he is ; a certain powerfully framed, black-bearded, 
 and black-browed Capitan Garcia, of Castilian birth, 
 takes a position on the right of our own volante, by 
 way of escort to the foreign ladies ; and Miss R., 
 Juan, and Cecilio, fall into the rear, choosing to take a 
 slow pace until the lady gets accustomed to her saddle. 
 We lose sight of her at the first corner — rattle briskly 
 through the city — cross the bridge — pass the barracks, 
 the hospital, and two or three handsome suburban 
 villas, — and then, commence the slow, rough, toilsome 
 ascent of the " Cumbre." Ere long, we are high 
 enough to overlook the rear road for some distance, but 
 our horsewoman and her escort do not appear; and 
 Mrs. R. begs me (for she speaks no Spanish) to inquire 
 the probable cause of the delay. Questions and sur- 
 mises follow, and a halt is ordered till the loiterers shall 
 arrive. Meantime, we enjoy the view, which is already 
 very beautiful — the square blocks of the horse-shoe 
 shaped city, with its pair of shining rivers — the bay and 
 shipping glowing in the rays of the westering sun — 
 the neighboring hills and distant mountains — and afar, 
 the blue waves and white sails of the boundless ocean. 
 
 "We take ample time to study all these details ; still 
 our friends do not appear. I inquire if they may not 
 have taken some other road, and am told that there is 
 no other road, — a piece of information which I do not 
 deem it necessary to impart to my trembling companion, 
 who is clinging to that last hope. Neither do I think it 
 
134 MY WINTER IN CUBA, 
 
 expedient to utter my involuntary inward comment, 
 that " one such is enough " : a road like this in the 
 immediate vicinity of a city of forty thousand inhabi- 
 tants, speaks more pointedly of the indolence and sloth 
 of the Cubans, in matters not directly related to the 
 making of money, than anything I could say. At 
 length Don Enrique grows impatient and uneasy, and 
 sets off, at a hand-gallop, to solve the mystery; re- 
 appearing again in a short time, to say that Miss R., 
 finding herself unable to ride in such reverse fashion, 
 has wisely returned to the house, and will follow us as 
 soon as another volante can be found. Satisfied with 
 this explanation, the cavalcade again moves on. 
 
 Our way is still upward, and the road grows rough 
 in tolerably exact proportion to the rate of ascent. 
 Gullies yawn beside us ; rolling stones give very inse- 
 cure footing for the horses ; rocks heave up like billows 
 and lift us on their brown shoulders ; and my respect 
 for the volantes grows with every revolution of the 
 enormous wheels. Being so large, they pass easily over 
 the irregularities of the road ; being so strong, they are 
 not readily broken ; while the distance of the horse 
 from the vehicle gives one a pleasant assurance of 
 security from his heels, in case he goes down — a danger 
 which seems imminent, at times. My sympathy for the 
 hard- worked animal, however, increases in the ratio of 
 my respect for the volante / he toils, pants, and stumbles 
 on, dripping with perspiration, while his companion, 
 whose share of the labor is limited to carrying the pos- 
 tilion, steps easily and jauntily, making one to see that, 
 
THE VALLEY OF TUMURI. 135 
 
 even to horses, the good things of this life are unevenly- 
 distributed. I bethink myself that Bishop Butler half 
 admits that his masterly argument for the immortality 
 of man applies as well to animals ; and am soon lost in a 
 wild maze of speculation as to how much the admission 
 may be good for, and whether the Indian is so far wrong 
 in believing that his horse and hound will share his 
 Paradise, — when Mrs. R. recalls my wandering thoughts, 
 and points to a cactus-crowned wall which we are 
 passing. 
 
 The variety of these prickly plants growing thereon 
 is really wonderful ; and they seem to form quite as 
 effectual a barrier against intrusion as the broken glass 
 and iron spikes often used for the same purpose. The 
 grounds thus enclosed are radiant with oleanders, pome- 
 granites, and other brilliant flowering shrubs \ while 
 oranges, bananas and cocoa nuts tempt one, by their 
 luscious profusion, to wish that laws respecting "3Teum 
 and Tuum" had never been framed. So we trot on, 
 up hill and down vale, passing several small " hacien- 
 das" or plantations, — past sugar-cane fields, pine-apple 
 gardens, palm avenues, and mahogany trees, until the 
 last hill is surmounted, and the first glimpse of the valley 
 of Yumuri, breaks upon us. Looking down a steep 
 hillside, worn into deep guilies by heavy rains (of such 
 regularity, that they look like a row of gigantic col- 
 umns) we see a gently undulating vale, feathery with 
 palms — billowy with cane — golden with an ever-present 
 flowering shrub, peculiar to the country — a thread of 
 silver winding through it, to show what a small begin- 
 
136 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 ning in life, as a brook, the river Yumuri has, — and all 
 around, green hills, with sun-gilded crests, and sides 
 mantled with shadow. But this is only the beginning 
 of enchantments. Riding along the brow of the hills, 
 our eyes are delighted with a succession of lovely and 
 changeful pictures, until we reach a point on one side, 
 where we 'all alight, and scramble a little way down a 
 steep, rocky path, bordered by a thicket of shrubs, till 
 we stand on the summit of a hill that thrusts a rough, 
 scarred shoulder out into the valley, and a complete 
 view of its whole length and breadth is before us ! It 
 is of such an exquisite, ethereal, and pathetic beauty, 
 that all voices are hushed, all hearts touched, and we 
 gaze in absolute, breathless silence ! The valley is vast, 
 in extent, and deep down below us, in position ; yet its 
 minute, microscopic features seem very near in the 
 transparent air, very distinct in the flood of sunset light 
 which both reveals and transfigures them; and those 
 same slanting sunbeams, give it a tremulous, palpitating 
 grace, which makes it appear unreal and unearthly — a 
 •thing to dissolve and vanish even while we gaze and 
 wonder. There is no habitation to be seen in it, no 
 form of man ; it is a tract of enchanted ground — a 
 lovely opening into fairy-land — a vast piece of weird 
 mosaic — a picture of Eden before man had breathed 
 uj>on and dimmed it ; — yet none of these images fully 
 expresses its peculiar, exceeding charm. Like the 
 master-pieces of art or of poetry, it has a nameless and 
 intangible beauty, a consummate deliciousness, that 
 baffles comprehension, and seems to belong almost more 
 to the domain of faith than that of sight. 
 
THE VALLEY OF YU3IURI. 137 
 
 Right opposite to us, two lofty mountain-peaks lift 
 their rugged brows to look upon it admiringly, throwing 
 long shadows across its gilded floor, — for behind them 
 the sun is going down, round, red, in cloudless glory — 
 and he too seems to be gazing, wondering, lingering, 
 loth to pass on and leave it behind ! I know not what 
 feelings stir in the hearts around me, but my own, after 
 a little, swells with an indescribable sense of pain that 
 this entrancing vision will have so soon passed out of my 
 life, never again to be present to actual vision, however 
 it may haunt my memory ; for its subtle fascination and 
 appealing beauty wind themselves into my soul, and 
 cling there, with a pleading, persistent tenderness, — 
 whispering, in siren tones, " Abide with me and be my 
 love!" 
 
 But the sun has- dropped behind the mountains, 
 and the valley begins to fill with shadow, as with a 
 sea! The clouds darken, the outlines tremble and 
 blend, the tufted palm-trees sink out of sight, — swiftly, 
 too swiftly, the purple billows climb the hill-sides, until 
 all is submerged ; and, looking across the deluge wdiich 
 has swept over that fairy world, we see the dark forms 
 of the mountain mourners sharply outlined on the pink 
 and gold background of the sky. What subtle link 
 of association brings before me that lovely picture of the 
 " Christian Martyr," which used to hang in Goupil's 
 window ? — a fair female figure, drifting in transparent, 
 rippled waters. Do I expect to see some sweet incar- 
 nation of the drowned Valley floating on the surface of 
 that purple sea ? 
 
138 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 Sighing as we go, we turn our backs on the dark- 
 ened picture, and climb back to the road. Life is full 
 of strange contrasts, anci we next find ourselves in a 
 sugar-house close at hand, belonging to the " ingenio " 
 of "La Victoria" — and feel much as if we had been 
 suddenly transported from Paradise to Pandemonium. 
 The establishment is not a large one ; and the mill is of 
 the primitive sort, somewhat resembling an old-fash- 
 ioned cider-mill. It is turned by five or six pairs 
 of oxen going round and round in a dusky gallery 
 above; the negro drivers of which keep up a contin- 
 uous yelling and screeching that may truly be called 
 infernal, — it makes us put our hands to our ears. 
 They are hideous, vicious-looking creatures, too (the 
 dusk and the noise may be partially responsible for 
 that), so that the pistols in the belt, and the sword by 
 the side, of the overseer, seem not a needless precau- 
 tion. This latter personage, by the way (here known 
 as the mayoral), is politely cutting up sugar-cane for us 
 to chew, while we are making these observations, — a 
 refection not to be despised when once the taste for it is 
 acquired. We are glad to escape from this noisy Ere- 
 bus to the vats below, though it is even hotter down 
 there, and the half-naked attendants, seen through 
 clouds of vapor, might be taken for Macbeth's witches 
 over their cauldron. The process of sugar-boiling and 
 drying is shown and explained to us, but as I shall 
 witness this operation by and by, on one of the largest 
 and completest " ingenios " of the island, worked by 
 steam, I pass over it now. Finally — a last attention 
 
THE VALLEY OF YUMURI. 139 
 
 always paid to guests — teacups are filled from the boil- 
 ers, with a cocoa-nut dipper, and commended to our lips. 
 The draught, however, is not much to the taste of any- 
 body except Don Cecilio and myself; but we linger, 
 sipping the hot, sweet beverage, and chatting with the 
 mayoral, for a considerable time ; and are compared by 
 Miss R. to two old maids, drinking tea ! 
 
 Emerging from this den of sweets, unrefined and 
 unadulterated, we are confronted by a row of negresses, 
 each with a bouquet to present to the ladies. We accept 
 the flowers with thanks, and they receive a donation 
 
 from Seiior G with courtseyings and ejaculations 
 
 grotesque and indescribable ! 
 
 Then follows a pleasant ride home in the moonlight, 
 and a charming, silvered view of* city and bay, as we 
 surmount and descend the last hill. We enjoy it all 
 keenly, but we do not talk much about it ; — in truth, 
 when the recollection of that wondrous valley, transfig- 
 ured in the sunset and drowned in the shadow, comes be- 
 fore us, we feel as if we should never talk any more ; for 
 a fair, cherished friend is buried out of our sight, and the 
 earth cannot ever seem so bright again. What words will 
 embody to others the lost grace, the evanescent loveli- 
 ness, or the exquisite pleasure and tender pain that we 
 have experienced ! 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 LAS CUEVAS DE BELLAMAR. 
 
 44 "T^OU don't really mean to say that you are going 
 to spend the rest* of the winter in Matanzas ? " 
 said a certain John Bull to me, in a gently amazed and 
 supercilious way, as I was quitting Havana. "Why, 
 there is nothing worth seeing there but the Caves, and 
 you can do them in a day." 
 
 If we dwelt in the Palace of Truth, I might have 
 responded that we can " do " some persons in less time 
 than that ; it takes scarcely more than a glance to arrive 
 at their sum total of national arrogance and personal con- 
 ceit ; but Talleyrand affirms that words were given us- 
 to enable us to conceal our thoughts, and in my answer 
 doubtless they fulfilled their mission. 
 
 I did not then know how unfounded was the gentle- 
 man's assertion. Nothing worth seeing at Matanzas? 
 Had he never seen (or only failed to appreciate) the 
 beautiful, far-reaching views from the Cumbre? Had 
 he forgotten the Valley of Yumuri, loveliest and ten- 
 derest landscape that ever charmed mortal vision ? Did 
 he never hear of the soft beauty of " Los Molmos ? " 
 Had he never felt his soul rise and nutter around the 
 grand, blue dome of the " Pan," in a vain attempt to 
 
LAS CUEVAS BE BELLAMAR. 141 
 
 climb to the full moral height of its airy sublimity? 
 Let me record it here, that in the matter of pure air and 
 lovely scenery, Matanzas has greatly the advantage of 
 Havana; and for all persons who can content them- 
 selves outside of "May Fair," it is much the more de- 
 sirable residence. Invalids, especially, should never pitch 
 their tents in Havana ; almost any other spot in Cuba, 
 where a reasonable amount of life's comforts can be 
 secured, is a better and a kindlier abiding-place for 
 them. 
 
 But to the Caves ! Even His High Superciliousness, 
 from across the Atlantic, endorsed them as worth seeing ; 
 and inasmuch as we do not intend to pass by on the 
 other side of any opportunity of doing good — to our- 
 selves, — nor of letting it be done to us through the 
 revealings of that spirit of beauty which is so nearly 
 akin to the spirit of love, we will go and see them ! 
 
 In accordance with the hints of my hostess, I donned 
 for the expedition certain short and loose garments which 
 would neither embarrass motion nor suffer quickly from 
 moisture, and which had already established some small 
 claim upon the washtub ; so I found myself a veritable 
 grub among butterflies when I joined the other ladies of 
 the party, whose toilets had not been made under so 
 wise a supervision. The sun was sending long, slanting 
 beams across the valley when our volantes were set in 
 motion ; and some fear was expressed lest night should 
 be upon us, ere our inspection of the caves was con- 
 cluded. To which Don Enrique responded, with a grave 
 face, but a twinkling eye, that " as caves were seen to 
 
142 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 better advantage by torchlight than daylight, it didn't 
 much matter ! " Don Gustavo, a travelled Cuban, who 
 has seen something of most countries under the sun, 
 and picked up a smattering of divers tongues, rode on 
 the right of my volante, and entertained me with a 
 cheerful miscellany of four languages, which had but 
 one drawback — it was frequently unintelligible. The 
 quickest wits will now and then lose the track of sen- 
 tences that begin in English, slide into French at the 
 first stumble, relieve their embarrassment by a German 
 expletive or two, and end comfortably in the speaker's 
 native Spanish. 
 
 Our route first lay along the margin of the bay, 
 where the waves, linking hands, came rushing up almost 
 to the horses' feet, like troops of sportive children, and 
 then broke and retreated, amid shouts of laughter and 
 showers of spray. Just here, making the most of the 
 broad outlook over the water, and the advantages for 
 sea-bathing, boating, etc., three gentlemen have built 
 summer villas, which, being the fairest examples of 
 their kind in the vicinity, deserve a passing notice. 
 The walls are stuccoed, and painted in bright colors, 
 with facings at their base, three or four feet high, of 
 blue and white Dutch tiles, figured in quaint patterns, 
 and highly polished. In front is a broad piazza, with a 
 heavy pediment, supported by white Doric columns ; 
 and through the wide-open windows we catch a glimpse 
 of various large and lofty apartments, all en suite, with 
 cool marble floors and white muslin draperies, and 
 elegantly, but simply, furnished. In the midst is a 
 
LAS CUEVAS DE BELL AM AR. 143 
 
 court, with a sparkling fountain in its centre, encircled 
 with broad-leaved plants. All around are blooming 
 gardens ; and lemon and orange trees, blossomy and 
 fruity, lean over the iron railings. A group of dark- 
 eyed senoras upon the piazza completes the picture, 
 and inclines one to think that suburban life in Cuba is 
 as enjoyable as anything ought to be, in a world which 
 one must some time quit. 
 
 Just beyond is a group of wooden houses, which 
 the natives point out as a curiosity — having undergone 
 a sea voyage from the United States, together with a 
 number of carpenters, who put them up in their present 
 position. They belong to the common, ugly class of 
 tenement houses ; and neither their bare, clap-boarded 
 sides, nor their loop-holes of windows, are calculated to 
 impress the Cuban mind with the superiority of foreign 
 over native architecture. 
 
 A short distance beyond these, our road turns to 
 the south and begins to climb the hills, which cluster 
 everywhere around Matanzas; and we are jolted over 
 stones and jerked through gullies, at a rate that sets 
 our words and ideas to knocking their heads together in 
 a most uncomfortable and bewildering fashion. I won- 
 der if there is a tolerable country road in all Cuba ! 
 Certainly, such a one as we are now toiling over, within 
 two miles of the second city in the island, and on the 
 route to Cardenas, a flourishing seaport town, does not 
 promise much to reward further investigation. We jog 
 on for a mile or two, with frequent pauses to breathe 
 the jaded horses, until we reach a wide extent of table 
 
144 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 land, and trot briskly up to the door of a low, wooden 
 building in the centre ; when our postilions drop from 
 their saddles, and we read on a conspicuous sign, " Las 
 Cuevas de Bellamar " (The Caves of the Beautiful 
 Sea.) Here ! There is a general exclamation of sur- 
 prise. I own myself an ignoramus in the matter of 
 caves, and possibly my anticipations were as absurd as 
 they are proved to be unfounded; but I certainly 
 expected to find the entrance to our subterranean desti- 
 nation in the side of a cliff, or at the bottom of a ravine, 
 or in some other place giving evidence of former convul- 
 sions of nature. To come upon it, therefore, under a 
 prosaic shanty, in the midst of a broad plain, smiling 
 and peaceful as if it had never known change or disturb- 
 ance since Eden blossomed under the- footsteps of 
 Eve, was utterly subversive of all pre-arranged ideas ; 
 and I alighted in a state of extreme humility, minded to 
 take whatever came thereafter, and be thankful. 
 
 While Cecilio registered the party in the visitors' 
 book, I strolled around the room, and noticed its attrac- 
 tions. Divers views of the caves adorned its walls, to 
 give visitors a foretaste of the wonders awaiting them, 
 and several cases of stalactites stood around, by way of 
 further whetting of the appetite; while a stand of 
 refreshments, with a goodly array of bottles, performed 
 the same office, in a more literal sense. In the centre 
 was a covered staircase leading — to the bottomless pit, 
 I conclude, after looking down ! for I see the steps fade 
 away through various gradations of dimness into dark- 
 ness and nothingness ; — and this is the entrance to the 
 Caves ! 
 
LAS CUEVAS DE BELLAMAR. 145 
 
 The guides are now ready with flaming torches, and 
 We commence our descent. In due time we touch bot- 
 tom, and find ourselves standing in the midst of the 
 " Gothic Temple," — the largest of the caves, though 
 scarcely the most attractive, at present. For the stalac- 
 tites being so near the entrance, have been somewhat 
 soiled by the admission of outer air and dust, and have 
 lost much of that luminous whiteness which is one of 
 their chief beauties. Still, the forms of pillars and 
 arches are very perfect and majestic,' and we gaze 
 silently, with a mixture of wonder and awe. Pulpit 
 and altar there is none. Nature is the priestess, and 
 she offers the living sacrifice of hearts that are hushed 
 beneath the vast dome into mute praise and fervent 
 love. The guide tells us that, two or three years ago, 
 the Bishop of Matanzas held a service here, with crowds 
 of people to witness it, — an esthetic performance of 
 which I should never have suspected that stout, round- 
 faced, yet most dignified and reverend prelate. What a 
 spectacle it must have been ! The gorgeous vestments 
 of the priests, the wreathing lights, the clouds of 
 incense, the solemn roll of chant and anthem among 
 these grand pillars and arches, covered from broad base 
 to airy summit with the minutest and delicatest tracery 
 of frostwork! 
 
 At one extremity, pendent over a deep chasm, is a 
 mighty stalactite, which looks like a stately human form 
 wrapped in the Roman toga. I thought of Curtius ; — ■ 
 it needed but the horse to make the old Latin tradition 
 
 visible to modern eves, in strange, ghostly characters, 
 
 7 
 
146 MY WINTER IJ\ T CUBA. 
 
 that may be older than itself. The fissure is of unknown 
 depth ; I threw in a stone, and heard it tossed back and 
 forth adown tile rocky sides, till the sounds died away 
 into silence. 
 
 Leaving the " Temple," we are led by a rough, 
 rocky path to the " Gallery of Icicles;" the roof being 
 adorned with clustering, pointed pendants of translucent 
 stalactites, and the floor with tapering masses of corres- 
 pondent stalagmites, except where a path has been 
 cleared. 
 
 Farther on, the empire of Fantasy begins, and her 
 lovely or grotesque creations confront us at every step 
 and beckon from every corner. Each stalactite takes 
 the shape of leaf or blossom, insect or animal, in such 
 bewildering j)rofusion of beauty or oddity that it is im- 
 possible to take note of all ; the whole being a rich kalei- 
 doscopic mystery that changes with every change of the 
 position of the spectator. Here, an arch Cupid peeps 
 out from a mass of tangled vines; there, a spray of 
 leaves and blossoms charms us with its delicate finish ; 
 here is an owl, and there is a cat ; and yonder a stalag- 
 mite which, when the guide's torch is held behind it, 
 becomes " A Lady's Skirt," — soft, sheer folds of snowy 
 muslin, with a dainty, fluted flounce at bottom ! Farther 
 along, the exquisite purity and loveliness of a " Yase of 
 Flowers," seemingly carved out of dazzling pearl, leaves 
 us no' room for incredulity at the guide's statement that 
 a certain rich American offered two thousand dollars for 
 it, and was refused— as he ought to have been ; other- 
 wise the cave would have lost one of its chiefest adorn- 
 ments. 
 
LAS CUEVAS DE BELLAMAR. 147 
 
 The traditionary step between the sublime and the 
 ridiculous is much shortened here ; often there is only 
 a handbreadth between loveliness and deformity, and 
 frequently the two run together in queer combinations 
 of a lily growing out of an ugly, horny head, or a bird's 
 wing attached to a rough, shapeless excrescence. Me- 
 thought I had hit upon visible types of a moral fact. 
 The continual, unnoted accretions of daily life shape 
 characters into forms as imperfect and incongruous as 
 these; the sweetest flowers of devotion and loyalty 
 sometimes blossom out of the foulest relations, vices 
 branch off into virtues, good and evil are inextricably 
 blended, and only God can tell which shall ultimately 
 predominate. But may He not, out of the fulness of His 
 power and patience, bring all these unfinished material 
 forms to final perfection and beauty ? And is He not 
 also, by the light touches of circumstance, and the silent 
 influences of His Spirit, rounding into symmetry charac- 
 ters that now seem odd and ineffective jumbles of inhar- 
 monious elements ? 
 
 A pair of stalactites which have succeeded in joining 
 their stalagmites below, and grown into a remote resem- 
 blance to human limbs, are introduced to us as " Maxi- 
 milian's Legs," — christened, doubtless, in days when 
 the name of the unfortunate Austrian prince was more 
 easily associated with mirthful ideas than now. Here- 
 abouts, I am the Columbia who first discovers to the 
 world a fair, white, crystalline — pig ! alike ignorant 
 of swill and mud puddles; and it will probably be 
 pointed out to succeeding visitors as the "American 
 
148 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 Lady's Pig." For we are now in the vicinity of the 
 " English Lady's Bath ; " and all who wish to behold it, 
 are invited, singly, to go down on all fours, and follow 
 the guide into a small, dark aperture at the right. 
 Crawling through mud and water for a yard or two, 
 and knocking my head against divers projecting points, 
 I am rewarded by the sight of a small, circular apart- 
 ment, with ■ three or four feet of clear water at its 
 bottom ; wherein, I am assured, a certain " Inglesa " 
 once insisted on bathing, whence its name. As there is 
 no standing-room within the apartment, and the irreg- 
 ular, dirty 2->ath outside offers small accommodation for 
 toilet purposes, one doubts if the lady's comfort were 
 much increased by the indulgence of the whim ! Albeit, 
 we are dripping with perspiration, because of the 
 extreme heat, and our temples throbbing, by reason 
 of the confined air ; so we accept an invitation to drink 
 from the spring, and find the water quite palatable, 
 though its temperature does not suggest an Arctic 
 origin. 
 
 AVe next enter " Benediction Hall," which shows no 
 fitness for its name, that I can discover, but where the 
 white stalactites cluster in even greater opulence of love- 
 liness, and wilder fantasy, than elsewhere ; and we pant 
 with an oppressive sense that a flood of undetected beau- 
 ty is surging over us, of which Ave can grasp and keep 
 only the minutest fraction. If we turn back a moment, 
 fresh graces blossom out under our eyes, airy creations 
 have sprung up magically since we looked there last, 
 and as many more are waiting to surprise us if we look 
 
LAS CUEVAS I)E BELLAMAR. 149 
 
 again. There are exquisite and marvellous specimens 
 of flowers, foliage, and vines, twined by the fairies, 
 doubtless ; with things ineffably absurd thrown in, here 
 and there, by some mischievous gnome or elf. The in- 
 finite fulness of beauty, and the variety and fertility of 
 grotesque extravagance, are altogether confusing and 
 indescribable ; to examine them thoroughly would take 
 a lifetime. At the farther end, a stately row of alabas- 
 ter organ-pipes, in a case of daintiest frostwork and 
 pearl, causes us to wonder why it was not placed in the 
 "Gothic Temple" yonder, — an inquiry to which the 
 oracles of the cave return no answer. Its beauty takes 
 on a more transparent, ethereal grace, as the guides' 
 torches are held behind it; and that beautiful term, 
 " frozen music," is no longer a purely poetic conception, 
 but lives in my memory henceforth, a divinely white, 
 airy, exquisite actuality. 
 
 By this time we have learned that our guides are 
 not only dispensers of light — material and metaphor- 
 ical, — but careful guardians of the caves' treasures also, 
 keeping strict watch over us, and interposing quickly be- 
 tween the stalactites and any despoiling hand. There 
 is reason- in the precaution, for if each visitor were al- 
 lowed to break and carry away at will, there would soon 
 be nothing left but the mangled remains of these lovely 
 creations, wrought by the light, magical touches of cen- 
 turies of falling drops. Many of them are unspeakably 
 delicate and fragile, crumbling under the softest touch, 
 obliterated by any accidental pressure ; the floor of the 
 cave is covered with their white fragments. Neverthe- 
 
150 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 less, to a born curiosity-lover, like myself, the idea of 
 quitting this realm of enchantment without a single me- 
 mento of its wonders is intolerable ; but linger and 
 watch as I may, I am sure to find a pair of dark, bright 
 eyes fixed upon me. The most persistent pair belongs 
 to a young negro, who brings up the rear of the proces- 
 sion ; evidently, he has orders to leave no one behind 
 him. Determined not to be baffled, however, I adopt 
 another set of tactics. Turning suddenly upon my eb- 
 ony follower, in the midst of a narrow, tortuous, ascend- 
 ing path, I liold up to his view a bright silver piece, 
 point to the stalactites, and motion him to pass on. The 
 dark imp is neither obtuse nor incorruptible. He grius, 
 marches forward, holding his torch at a convenient. angle 
 over his shoulder, and looking straight forward ; while 
 I hastily secure two tolerable specimens, and go on my 
 way rejoicing. So does he, and I suspect that he had 
 still further cause for self-gratulation ; for on reporting 
 my stratagem and its success to one of my companions, 
 she assumed my position in the rear, and I went forward 
 to cross-question the head guide about the caves ; think- 
 ing that it might be well to keep his attention occupied 
 at this juncture. Virtue is ever its own reward ! I 
 gathered a quantity of information which I should oth- 
 erwise have missed. 
 
 The entrance to the caves was once the site of a 
 lime-kiln, the bottom of which suddenly "fell out" one 
 day, to the consternation of the owner, and his lime 
 vanished from sight. He and his assistant, when they 
 had sufficiently recovered from their fright, set their 
 
LAS CUEVAS DE BELLAMAR. 151 
 
 wits to work on the subject, and reached the wise con- 
 clusion that they had happened upon a mine of precious 
 metal, or a receptacle of hidden treasure. Swearing 
 each other to secresy, and agreeing to share the profits, 
 the one remained upon guard, while the other set forth 
 to "buy up the land in the immediate vicinity ; which, 
 not being deemed very valuable, he secured at a mod- 
 erate price. Exploration . was the next thing to be 
 thought of ; and after much deliberation and hesitation, 
 the more courageous of the twain consented to be let 
 down through the opening by a strong rope, with a light 
 in one hand, and a signal cord in the other. He went 
 down — down — down ! to what seemed to him a fright- 
 ful depth, when his courage gave out, he pulled the 
 cord, and was drawn up without having touched bot- 
 tom; reporting that he had seen an immense vaulted 
 roof, flashing with diamonds — and nothing more ! This 
 was, of course, the " Gothic Temple," in its pristine 
 whiteness and brilliancy. What an awfully grand sight 
 it must have been to the terrified observer, suspended in 
 mid air under its arched ceiling, and between its stately 
 columns, whose bases were lost in the depth and dark- 
 ness of the unknown Below ! Farther experiment re- 
 vealed the real nature of his possession to the disap- 
 pointed purchaser ; yet his treasure was not proven al- 
 together "magician's coin;" for the caves attract large 
 numbers of visitors, who are made to pay well for the 
 sight, and have turned out a veritable mine of wealth to 
 the owner, albeit not just of the sort he anticipated. 
 It takes time and labor to prepare the galleries for 
 
152 MY WINTER IN CUBA, 
 
 the reception of visitors ; the stalagmites must be cleared 
 from the path, irregularities smoothed down, and chasms 
 bridged. This has been done for three miles from the 
 entrance, by two different routes, so that the visitor 
 needs not to pass twice over the same ground. And the 
 guide stated that other galleries, not yet made ready for 
 visitors, had been explored, to a much greater distance 
 than those now open ; and that in one of these was a 
 lake that must be crossed by means of boats. So the 
 Mammoth Cave of Kentucky may yet find a formidable 
 rival in her Cuban sister, when the full extent and at- 
 tractions of the latter are made known. 
 
 It was aggravating to hear of these added wonders, 
 and not be allowed to behold them; still, our first en- 
 thusiasm was beginning to flag, we were dripping, pant- 
 ing, and weary, and when we reflected that there were 
 still two or three miles of fresh enchantments between 
 us and egress, resignation was not unattainable. Our 
 return-path led through new variations of white splen- 
 dor, — dainty carvings, and quaint distortions, and dim 
 ghost-peopled vistas, — infinite in detail, but similar, in 
 general effect, to the galleries already visited. Four 
 stalactites of great beauty and perfection deserve special 
 notice. The " Virgin's Mantle, " — rich, graceful folds, 
 of a delicate rose-tint and satiny texture, all glistening 
 and glittering with brilliants. The " Lake of Dahlias, " 
 — a frozen pool, studded with curious involuted projec- 
 tions, of a tawny yellow. The "Three Angels, " — a 
 triad of white figures, sitting side by side, in an attitude 
 of grief, with drooping wings and veiled faces, any one 
 
LAS CUEVAS BE BELLAMAE. 153 
 
 of which might serve for a representation of Bailey's 
 Earth-Angel, who was " ever weeping." Last, and I 
 think, most beautiful — though it is hard to choose where 
 all are so lovely, and 'each has its own peculiar and ex- 
 ceeding charm — a seemingly frozen waterfall, — sheet 
 and foam arrested and mute, yet clear and bubbly still, 
 and absolutely flashing and flaming and dancing with 
 light, from every point, as the guides wave their torches 
 before it. This has received the expressive name of the 
 " Cascade of Diamonds." 
 
 So we bade adieu to this realm of the gnomes and 
 wizards, and climbed that detestable staircase, pausing 
 to rest now and then, and wondering not that the 
 first explorer refused to be dropped all at once into 
 those dim depths and mysterious vastnesses ; and finally 
 emerged into upper air and daylight, to laugh (when we 
 had gotten breath enough) at the queer figures we 
 made. Boots had sunken all distinctions but that of 
 size under one thick, democratic coat of mud ; skirts 
 were wofully splashed and stained ; sleeves and collar 
 limp and shapeless; hair totally unconscious of crimp 
 and innocent of curl. The grub came best out of this 
 ordeal ; the butterflies looked as if drenched and blight- 
 ed by a sudden shower, and utterly deprived of their 
 moral expression. 
 
 The guide advised us to pace the room awhile, until 
 we were somewhat accustomed to the comparative cool- 
 ness of the upper air, if we desired to escape colds ; so 
 I obediently dragged my weary frame up- and down, 
 while my friends rebelliously sank on the nearest settee, 
 
154 MY WINTER IX CUBA. 
 
 and amused themselves — and me-^with witty commen- 
 tary on my performance. The " best, last laugh " was 
 mine next day, when one was reported in bed with rheu- 
 matism, and another speechless from hoarseness. 
 
 Our ride home by moonlight was charming enough 
 to merit a separate paragraph ; but having already said 
 enough in praise of the Cuban Luna to be set down as 
 hopelessly moonstruck, I forbear, on the present occa- 
 sion, at much cost of inclination. 
 
CHAPTER XVL 
 
 A PROCESSION. 
 
 rpiME was when the Roman Catholic Church was a 
 power in Cuba ; but a military despotism cannot 
 safely tolerate any rival authority, and she was long 
 ago forced into a subordinate and almost slavish position. 
 The government owns all the church edifices and other 
 property; appoints and removes the clergy, when it 
 chooses; fixes their salaries; and in short, exercises 
 whatever authority, in ecclesiastical matters, it is its 
 pleasure to assume. The results are a .sad lack of 
 religious control and discipline — very observable in the 
 almost universal disregard of the Lord's Day, and 
 in certain dissolute practices of both clergy and laity, — ■ 
 and a want of moral power in the Church, which is one 
 great cause, doubtless, of the extreme prevalence of 
 practical infidelity among the male population. A 
 bishop cannot remove a presbyter, except by resort to a 
 tribunal where the government has a voice, and is certain 
 to have its way, in the end; which way is extremely 
 likely to be influenced by other than spiritual motives, 
 and to tend toward other than spiritual ends. The 
 civil law allows slaves their time on Sundays, outside 
 of a certain limit, in order to enable them to purchase 
 
156 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 their freedom, if they wish ; and many persons choose to 
 employ them on that day, from lack of principle, or out 
 of charitable considerations ; so that it is quite common 
 to see housecleaning, whitewashing, painting, etc., pur- 
 posely postponed to the Lord's Day. Whites and quad- 
 roons, or mulattoes, live together in open concubinage, 
 for the civil law prohibits the intermarriage of the 
 races ; and they avoid the Church, because she, since she 
 is not allowed to marry them, must needs put an end to 
 such relations, ere she receives them into her bosom. 
 These things are no small obstacles to the Church's 
 work and influence, even where there are earnest desire 
 and effort to do the one faithfully, and exert the other 
 beneficially. 
 
 This much is patent to the most casual observer of the 
 religious life of the Island, and I do not claim to be 
 much more than that. I early discovered that it was 
 the merest waste of time, and most useless torture of 
 feeling, for me to attend the services of the Romish 
 Church with any purpose of devotion, or hope of benefit ; 
 although I did my best to go in the sjririt of sympathy, 
 and not of opposition, with a genuine desire to find 
 points of agreement rather than of difference, and hold- 
 ing fast to the theory that an earnest and spiritually 
 minded Christian may pray anywhere, beside anybody, 
 and be nothing the worse for it. Unfortunately for the 
 theory, I found it impossible, in practice, to shut my 
 ears to prayers addressed to the Virgin and saints, or 
 my eyes to observances which I inwardly stigmatized as 
 " profane mummery ; " and which stirred my soul to 
 
A PROCESSION. 157 
 
 indignant protest, or cool disdain, or set me to rehears- 
 ing all the long controversy "between Rome and the 
 Church Catholic, until I was in no frame of mind to be 
 benefited by whatever shreds of purity of doctrine, or 
 beauty of ritual, the former might have to offer me. 
 Nor could I settle it comfortably with my conscience to 
 make these services, Sunday after Sunday, a spectacle 
 or a study; knowing well that the study was not in 
 the cause of truth, but for the gratification of curiosity. 
 I was driven, therefore, to the conclusion that a quiet 
 reading of our own helpful and satisfying Liturgy, in 
 my own room, was the best, as it was the most conven- 
 ient, method of fulfilling the letter and spirit of the 
 fourth -commandment, and sharing the " Communion of 
 Saints," which was open to me. 
 
 Nevertheless, I have witnessed various services and 
 ceremonies, at odd times, and certain domestic observ- 
 ances have come under my observation, which may fur- 
 nish matter for thought and interest. 
 
 On my first coming to Matanzas, I went to see a 
 u paso? or procession, — a religious ceremonial with 
 which Protestants, and even Romanists, in the United 
 States, have no acquaintance ; except in an extremely 
 limited and modified form. Certain crowded, squalid 
 quarters of Matanzas, chiefly inhabited by blacks and 
 coolies, have been severely visited with small-pox 
 during the winter; and this paso was designed as a 
 propitiatory act, to procure an abatement of the epi- 
 demic. At dusk, our carriage took a position at the 
 corner of the " Plaza de Armas," directly on the route 
 
158 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 of the procession ; where, for an hour, we awaited its 
 appearance, while the crowd grew dense and denser 
 around us, until the Plaza surged with a sea of human 
 heads, and the street behind us was packed with vehicles 
 and spectators. The orderliness of the vast multitude was 
 one of its pleasantest characteristics, — no ill humor, no 
 shouldering, no fighting, no incivility, though the great 
 mass of those on foot were of the lower orders of 
 society. " Senor " and " seiiora " resounded on all sides, 
 as courteously exchanged between housemaid and hod- 
 carrier as between countess and general ; and the crowd 
 swayed to and fro with as much unanimity as the waves, 
 yielding to the regular motion of the tides. Less agree- 
 able, though not less noticeable, was its evil odor. The 
 daily pint of water, allowed to people of the better sort, 
 probably shrinks to some quantity not worth mention- 
 ing, among the lower classes. 
 
 By and by, the universal patience was rewarded by 
 the vision of a long line of thick, clustering lights 
 descending the Cumbre, far away to the right, and 
 apparently sailing by its own volition on a sea of dark- 
 ness, or obedient to the waving of an unseen magician's 
 wand ; which curious and beautiful illusion was the 
 prettiest sight of the evening. Very slowly the lights 
 approached, heralded by the notes of a band of music, 
 and preceded by two or three companies of cavalry to 
 clear the way. Then appeared a considerable company 
 of negro-women, all dressed in white, and each bearing 
 a flaming torch, — said to be, without exception, mourn- 
 ers for friends who had fallen victims to the pestilence. 
 
A PROCESSION. 159 
 
 They were succeeded by a heterogeneous mass of women 
 and children, black and mulatto, all carrying torches, 
 and dressed in every sort of gaud and gew-gaw wherein 
 the African heart delight eth ; grand with long, sweeping 
 trains, and marching on with that stately, erect, easy car- 
 riage which is theirs by right of their universal practice 
 of carrying heavy burdens on their heads. Next came a 
 gigantic negro, a true Anak of his race, ringing a large 
 dinner bell (" only that and nothing more ! ") with all 
 his might and main, and with evident relish of his per- 
 formance ; — he being the avant courier of a certain St. 
 Sebastien, a life-sized figure, borne, on a platform, on 
 the shoulders of four stout men. Now, hats began to 
 come off in the crowd, in token that an element of solem- 
 nity had been introduced into the scene, — a thing sadly 
 lacking hitherto. I looked very scrutinizingly at the 
 image, but, knowing nothing whatever of the character 
 and achievements of the said Saint, to add any ideal or 
 derived lustre to his image, I was unable to discover 
 anything in its bare literalness, but an ugly, brown, 
 semi-nude, and altogether inartistic representation of the 
 human figure ; the complexion of which forced me to 
 conclude that, like Murillo, Placido, and other persons 
 of genius, the saint had African blood in his veins. Fol- 
 lowing him was a large body of torch-bearing men, 
 corresponding in color to their patron and leader. 
 
 A second bell-ringer now smoothed the way for the 
 passage of the Virgin, in the shape of a doll, two or 
 three feet high, in great magnificence of golden and 
 jewelled array. Her platform was decorated with flow- 
 
160 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 ers and tinsel, guarded at the corners by small gilded 
 cherubim, and escorted by three or four priests in their 
 robes. More hats were now lowered, and I saw some 
 lips moving in prayer, which served to check the 
 somewhat irreverent course of comment in which we 
 were indulging, lest we might be giving offence to some 
 of these "little ones," children in faith, if not in fact. 
 Then came another long file of torch-bearers, but the 
 Virgin had wrought a change of color^miraculously, 
 or otherwise, — and whites now filled the ranks of the 
 procession ; yet it was plainly to be seen that the repre- 
 sentation was chiefly drawn from the lower classes. 
 
 Next, appeared a large crucifix, with a life-sized 
 figure of the Saviour, fashioned with the usual minute 
 and revolting attention to details. I conld have com- 
 pounded, thankfully, for a dozen Virgins, and any com- 
 putable number of saints, in the place of this one 
 crucifix ; — seeing it, I became sensible that, somewhere 
 in my veins, there must run one great drop of blood, 
 directly inherited from some uncompromising iconoclast, 
 of Cromwellian times. It was borne by black-robed 
 priests, and followed by a small company of ecclesias- 
 tical, civil, and military dignitaries ; each with his torch, 
 and all in excellent humor, apparently, for the sound of 
 their half-suppressed chat and laughter broke somewhat 
 harshly upon the surrounding silence. All hats were 
 lifted, as the crucifix passed ; the crowd crossed itself 
 reverently, and the hush was general and prolonged. 
 
 A band of music playing a dirge-like march, and a 
 regiment of infantry, closed the procession. The line of 
 
A PROCESSION. 161 
 
 lights defiled slowly down the street, and disappeared 
 under the black arch of the Cathedral as instantaneously 
 and completely as if it had been the Gate of Oblivion. 
 I could have wished it were — for certain adjuncts of the 
 ceremony ! 
 
 As a sanitary measure, the procession failed lament- 
 ably. Nothing short of a miracle could have prevented 
 its legitimate effect, — to spread contagion, and increase 
 the pestilence. A few days later, the government, tak- 
 ing a more sensible view of the situation, issued an 
 order prohibiting all crowds, for any purpose whatever, 
 and enforcing certain precautions and restrictions ; 
 which, after some weeks, was followed by a marked 
 abatement of the disease. Still later, the city was 
 officially declared free from epidemic ; and thereupon, a 
 Te Deum was appointed to be sung in the cathedral, at 
 which the reader is invited to " assist " in the next 
 chapter. As the Comandante, with his staff and escort, 
 is to be present, it will be necessary to go early. 
 
CHAPTER XVR 
 
 A TE DEUM. 
 
 "IV /TATASTZAS has but three churches for the accom- 
 modation of its forty thousand souls ; and of 
 these, the Cathedral only will repay the stranger's visit. 
 It is a structure of dark stone, with nothing impressive 
 about it, but its size and its aspect of hoar antiquity. 
 The Cuban climate has a knack of dealing with build- 
 ings of comparatively modern date in a way to make 
 them look as if they had witnessed the lapse of centu- 
 ries ; therefore this gray old edifice, upon which it has 
 been at work for nearly two hundred slow-paced years, 
 must needs have acquired a look of extreme venerable- 
 ness. In truth, its severe plainness, approaching to 
 shabbiness, seems but the natural condition of its time 
 of life.* It has outlasted all taste for adornment, all 
 Grecian and Gothic vanities, all care for keeping up 
 appearances, and comfortably slidden into the white- 
 headed, broad-brimmed, loose-coated, and slip-shod 
 period of architecture, corresponding to the same epoch, 
 in the life of man. It is flanked by two rough towers, 
 the taller of which is not without architectural pleasant- 
 ness to the eye, and moreover, contains a fine chime of 
 bells. 
 
A TE DEUM. 163 
 
 Within, it is vast, dim, and bare. There is an acre or 
 two of stone flags, by way of floor, but in a state of 
 chronic insurrection and upheaval, in the nave, and, in 
 front of the altar and shrines, worn away by the rever- 
 ential footsteps of many successive generations of peni- 
 tents, now slowly crumbling into dust. There are also 
 divers large, lofty, sombre-browed columns, sturdily set- 
 ting themselves to their age-long task of supporting the 
 ponderous, cavernous, gloomy arch of the roof; also a 
 high altar of white marble; and furthermore, nothing 
 but a musty odor of vanished years, a harsh-toned, 
 severe-tempered organ, and the shrines, pictures, relics, 
 etc., which are common to all Romish churches. 
 
 Our hour of waiting serves to record these particu- 
 lars, and to watch the arrival of Matanzas's female aris- 
 tocracy. They gather in great strength ; the vast ampli- 
 tude of the nave is soon filled with prayer-carpets, 
 kneeling figures in black dresses and mantillas, fluttering 
 fans, missals, and rosaries. From pillar to pillar, a 
 single row of benches forms a kind of barricade around 
 them, outside of which gentlemen crowd, in such num- 
 bers that there is danger of this slight defence being 
 carried by inadvertency. 
 
 At nine o'clock, the chimes break upon the ear, with 
 a somewhat unsatisfactory tone, it must be confessed ; 
 attributable, doubtless, to the fact that they are not 
 rung, but beaten with iron bars, by a dozen stout 
 negroes ; which indignity the grand, old bells resent, as 
 they have a right to do, by keeping their wealth of 
 sonorous music pent up within them, and giving out 
 
164 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 only a. dead, muffled sound, which savors more of protest 
 than jubilation. The Comandante immediately presents 
 himself, steps warily along the ovAskirts of the sea of 
 crinoline which has overflowed the nave, and seats him- 
 self upon one of the benches, near the altar, — a pleasant- 
 faced, portly gentleman, with two or three stars and 
 orders glistening on his breast. He is attended by sev- 
 eral officers, nobles, and gentlemen, his staff, and an 
 escort of soldiers, — which latter forms in the vestibule 
 and near the door. He and his companions are accom- 
 modated with tall, lighted tapers, by an attendant 
 priest ; they rise, and the Te Deum commences. 
 
 To say truth, it is chiefly remarkable for clangor. 
 There is none of that clear, piercing melody of boys' 
 voices, for which I had looked ; the singers are all men, 
 chosen (it is impossible to avoid the conclusion) for the 
 strength of their lungs, and with small reference to any 
 other quality whatsoever. The organ lends all the 
 grumble and bellow of its hoarse pipes, a dozen or two 
 of violins and violincellos screech and groan in concert, 
 and the brass instruments of the military band throw in 
 clash and crash ad libitum. Moreover, several small 
 tea bells, or something similar, are rung furiously by 
 the altar boys; the negroes above are belaboring the 
 poor chimes with their best will ; and cannon and vol- 
 leys of musketry are fired, at intervals, just outside the 
 door. I have a suspicion, too, that there is a popping 
 of fireworks somewhere; but whether on the roof, or 
 under the floor, or close at my back, it is impossible to 
 say ; nor does it make any manner of difference. The 
 
A TE DEU3L 165 
 
 din is fearful ; it sounds like two or three Fourth of July- 
 celebrations rolled into one ; but after its separate parts 
 have lost something of their grotesqueness and promi- 
 nency by repetition, one becomes sensible of an odd kind 
 of grandeur dominating the uproar, the product of such 
 an immense volume of sustained and jubilant sound. 
 Between the roll of the cannon, we are able to make 
 out a few words of the Te Deum, enough to show that 
 it is the same grand, ancient Latin hymn, whereof the 
 English version is so dear to our hearts ; but toward the 
 close, we discover that certain ascriptions to the Virgin 
 and Saints have somehow been ingrafted upon the 
 mighty, majestic branches, and its beauty is tarnished 
 henceforth for us. 
 
 The celebration of the Mass follows, with even more 
 than the usual splendor of robes and pomp of ceremonial. 
 We send some scrutinizing. glances around us, with the 
 design of learning to how many of those present it is 
 really an act of worship; and their number, judging by 
 appearances (the deceitfulness of which I would in no- 
 wise underrate), is mournfully small. Even the doctrine 
 of the Real Presence does not keep dark eyes from wan- 
 dering, and fans from " operating a system of covert 
 telegraphy; while the negroes look on with a stolid 
 receptivity, which seems less indicative of faith than 
 superstition. Yet be it recorded that I have seen de- 
 votion in these Romish churches — devotion as real, 
 absorbed, and fervent, as is- possible to the human 
 heart. Women that crept quietly into shadowy corners, 
 and wrestled, as did Jacob of old, with a Presence 
 
166 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 dread, Divine, for a blessing to be granted, or an afflic- 
 tion to, be withheld or withdrawn. Faces more earnestly 
 and pathetically appealing than ever I saw in the home 
 churches ; for this Cuban race lives out its inner self far 
 more frankly than we do, and is neither so apprehensive 
 of observation, nor so sensitive to it, as our hardier, 
 more self-contained and self-controlled race. Hands 
 clasped convulsively over a forgotten rosary, while lips 
 trembled with the passionate pleading of prayers that 
 were not reckoned among the prescribed number of 
 Pater Jtfosters and Ave Marias. But this was at quiet 
 matins or vespers, when the few who came, came to 
 pray, and the old Cathedral looked vaster and dimmer 
 and lonelier than ever, for its scattered, isolated worship- 
 pers ; — not on days of High Festival, like the present, 
 when all the world goes to church, in its worldliest 
 mood, to enjoy the spectacle. 
 
 I know not precisely at what point in the service our 
 attention is drawn and held by one rapt, innocent, ador- 
 ing face in the Comandante's train, which might well 
 serve as a model for a picture of that young Catholic 
 saint, beheaded by certain Jews of old time, whereof 
 the legend runs that the lovely, severed head went on 
 singing hymns and saying Ave Marias, for a day and 
 a night afterward, to the extreme amazement and terror 
 
 of the executioners. It is the son of the Count , 
 
 not yet old enough to have outgrown his childhood 
 faith, and slid into the common Spanish infidelity ; — not 
 the keen, hard, witty infidelity of the Frenchman, skilful 
 at finding out the joints of the Church's armor, and 
 
A TE DEUM. 167 
 
 making clever thrusts therein ; nor the phlegmatic, 
 dispassionate, thoughtful infidelity of the German, off- 
 spring of a mind lost and gone astray amid its own 
 intellections, and blinded by dust of its own raising ; but 
 an infidelity of disdain, last resort of men who have 
 flung aside their allegiance -to the Church of Rome in 
 the extremity of disgust at its deceptions, its assump- 
 tions, and the scandalous lives of many of its priests ; 
 and who have not sought, nor care to seek, for anything 
 better to fill the empty place. I think I could count on 
 the fingers of one hand, all the males that I have seen, 
 during my whole stay in Cuba, engaged in any volun- 
 tary act of devotion ; if I except that rapid crossing of 
 brow, lips, and breast, which runs like a ripple through 
 the crowd gathered in the Cathedral, at the elevation of 
 the Host ; and seems more a matter of habit, or of cour- 
 tesy, than an expression of devotional feeling, so little 
 of solemnity, or even of attentiveness, is there in it. 
 
 After the elevation of the Host, the Comandante 
 and his friends are relieved of their tapers, which they 
 surrender with great alacrity; their attention having 
 been chiefly engaged, hitherto, by the onerous necessity 
 of keeping them upright. This has been signally weari- 
 some to a spruce young aid-de-camp, who has several 
 times been on the point of putting out his neighbor's eyes 
 with his taper, while his own are busy with the bright 
 challenges thrown to him from the nave. Now, the 
 party seat themselves comfortably on their benches, and 
 look around them with the manifest intention of making 
 up for lost time. 
 
168 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 At last, the priests bring their droning, nasal, monot- 
 onous intoning of the prayers to an end, and the strange 
 rite is over. The congregation waits, standing, until the 
 Comandante has bowed himself out, and then dis- 
 perses slowly, with a birdlike twittering of talk among 
 the women. Then, the long shadows of the columns 
 again stretch unbroken across the stone floor, the dim, 
 duskiness steals back to its wonted corners ; and the old, 
 white-haired sacristan, hopeful of a chance of turning 
 an honest penny, offers to show us the little chapel 
 and sacristy. We decline; we have seen them all 
 before, and know there is nothing in them worth visit- 
 ing, or recording. 
 
CHAPTER XVIIL 
 
 SUNDAY SEEINGS AND DOINGS. 
 
 ^TjTL DOMINGO" is a trying day, in Cuba, to 
 whomsoever has in his veins the faintest color- 
 ing of that blue blood which is responsible for the sour 
 asceticism and rigid formalism of the " Blue Laws " of 
 Connecticut, — one of the most notable examples in his- 
 tory of the axiom, that " extremes meet." No matter 
 how substantially the blueness has been toned down by 
 some few generations of a healthier growth' of religious 
 life, and a more genial apprehension of the character 
 of the worship due to a God whose highest name is 
 " Love," he cannot get through the day without more 
 shocks to his principles and prejudices than are whole- 
 some or agreeable. The domestic business goes on, with 
 the accumulated impetus of a fresh relay of hands ; the 
 counting-houses are suggestively half-open ; the shops 
 are brilliant and busy; the chain-gang labors on the 
 Government works ; and the tide of human life sends 
 its fullest and gayest flow through the streets and 
 squares of the city. In the morning, people go to 
 Mass, or to business, according as they are devout, or 
 no ; but the evening is unscrupulously sacrificed, by all 
 classes, on the altar of Pleasure. The theatre then 
 8 
 
170 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 gathers its most brilliant audience, the retreta its densest 
 crowd, the shops and restaurants their best customers. 
 
 In vain I shut myself in my room ; sounds most un- 
 sabbatical invade and destroy my quiet. The children 
 are all at home, — for Sunday preserves enough of its 
 holy-day character to shut the schools and public build- 
 ings, — and there is a fivefold gush of antic and merri- 
 ment through the house. Dolorita seizes the opportu- 
 nity for practice, and strums waltzes and marches on 
 the piano with an energy and diligence worthy a better 
 work. Moreover, the opera company at the "Teatro 
 Esteban," on the upper side of the Square, is rehearsing 
 for the evening, with wide-open windows; the street- 
 criers are vociferous and hopeful; and just up the street, 
 a nomadic menagerie allures the public with the would- 
 be lively notes of a wheezy and dismembered brass band. 
 In the course of the forenoon, Atanasia appears, tub on 
 head, to give my room its weekly drenching ; — I use the 
 word advisedly, for she commences by emptying three 
 or four pails of water on the tiles, with the object of 
 drowning out the fleas, as well as of washing away the 
 dirt. Driven forth by this flood, I find the sola and 
 dining-room in the hands of housemaids, and possibly 
 of white washers ; the laundry is in active operation; 
 Ricardo bakes, boils, stews, and scatters his hats, in an 
 ambitious attempt to concoct a dinner that shall surpass 
 all former achievements ; and the only refuge is in Doiia 
 Coloma's own room, where she pursues her elaborate 
 stitching or intricate embroidery precisely as on other 
 days. There are a few high festivals and saints' days, 
 
• SUNDAY SEEING S AND DOINGS. 171 
 
 marked with a double cross in the Spanish calendar, on 
 which she would think it well to intermit her work; but 
 this is not one of them, — indeed, I think they fall often- 
 est on a week-day. 
 
 Later, the house takes on a festive aspect ; its mis- 
 tress makes a grand toilet ; little Rafael is put into his 
 scarlet uniform ; Christinita is made ill-at-ease, bashful,' 
 and enchanting, in white lace and muslin ; and the ser- 
 vants deck themselves out with whatever gala-day finery 
 they may possess. There is more than the usual number 
 of guests at dinner ; and among them are sure to be two 
 or three bronzed sea-captains, whose ships, gay with a 
 holiday dress of bright bunting, ride at anchor in the 
 harbor, while they spin yarns of every material and hue, 
 and recount hair-breadth 'scapes and hair-brained ad- 
 ventures on every sea and every qoast ; which if they 
 be truth, shame all the marvels of invention. To one 
 of these, who has a rare natural eloquence, and a won- 
 derful faculty of so arranging his material as to throw 
 forward all the picturesque points without injuring the 
 j>erspective, it is a treat to listen. The only drawback 
 is in thinking it over, — the very excellence of the work 
 breeds suspicion ; — seldom do life's actual events group 
 themselves so artistically as in the captain's narrative. 
 
 The interim between the dessert and the announce- 
 ment of the carriage is seized by Doiia Coloma, for a 
 little catechetical instruction of the children ; to which 
 I listen with an attention that would assuredly bring 
 her proselyting instincts into active exercise, if she had 
 any. I learn the nature and design of penance, the rou- 
 
172 MY WINTER IN CUBA, 
 
 tine of confession, the catalogue of the principal saints, 
 etc. I find that the commandment forbidding the wor- 
 ship of graven images is expunged from the Roman 
 Decalogue, as it needs to he (to make all consistent, the 
 third and fourth ought to follow it) ; and I conclude 
 that the coveting of one's neighbor's wife is an offence 
 of great frequency and universality, since it is counted 
 deserving of a separate statute, — which splitting of the 
 tenth commandment in two makes up the required num- 
 ber, I am also taught how to cross one's self after the 
 elaborate Cuban fashion, via the children standing be- 
 fore their mother ; who proceeds as follows, suiting the 
 action to the word : 
 
 " Therefore, we have to sign and sanctify ourselves, 
 by making three crosses ; the first on the brow, in order 
 that God may deliver us from evil thoughts ; the second 
 on the mouth, that He may deliver us from evil words ; 
 the third on the breast, that He may deliver us from evil 
 works ; saying, * By the sign of the Holy Cross, deliver 
 us from our enemies, O Lord our God ; In the name of 
 the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, 
 Amen, Jesus:'" — and at the word "Jesus," the ends 
 of the fingers and thumb are brought together, and 
 kissed devoutly. 
 
 In which observance it is hard to find anything ob- 
 jectionable, if it be piously practised. The teaching of 
 it to the children, however, is apt to degenerate into a 
 frolic. Dolorita, to be sure, goes through the perform- 
 ance with a lofty, pharisaical superciliousness ; but Fe- 
 lipa's words and ideas are always tripping each other 
 
SUNDAY SEEINGS AND DOINGS. IT 3 
 
 up ; Odila's agile and irrepressible fingers indulge in 
 various supererogatory crosses upon the oddest and 
 most out-of-the-way members of her small body; and 
 Rafael is not quite clear about the distinctiveness of 
 his nose and mouth, gets bewildered, embarrassed, and 
 sulky, and refuses to cross himself at all. 
 
 It is now time for the usual drive. I go, — not that I 
 should think of doin^ such a tiling at home, — but no 
 oj)portunity for fresh air and exercise is to be lightly 
 thrown away, in this land of oriental seclusion; and 
 furthermore, it is simply a question between tweedle- 
 dum and tweedle-dee, whether my Sunday's sanctity 
 shall be ruthlessly slain to me in or out of doors. There 
 is even a chance that the murder will be something less 
 barbarous in the open air, since my hostess, in consider- 
 ation of my prejudices — as she deems them — often fore- 
 goes the crowded paseo, and gives me a quiet drive 
 along the beach, cool and resonant with the dash of 
 foamy waves, or orders Amavedo to climb a little way 
 up the Cumbre, for one of its lovely views of the fair 
 city seated between the mountains and the bay. 
 
 Returning from one of these drives, I notice lights 
 in the cathedral, and beg her to stop long enough to let 
 me see something of the vesper-service. The rosy glow 
 of the sunset tips the pinnacles of the gray tower, as we 
 enter the low-browed portal, but a twilight duskiness is 
 already brooding in the quiet interior. There are no 
 lights save the candles burning on the altar, where a 
 single priest is intoning Latin prayers in a low, monot- 
 onous voice. A few worshippers, with faces indistinct 
 
174 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 and spirit-like in the dimness, are kneeling here and 
 there, solitary or in little groups ; telling their beads 
 with evident singleness of purpose and sincerity of de- 
 votion, for they do not look up as we pass. There is no 
 music ; only the ghost of an organ looks grimly down 
 from the choir, and suggests harmonies of whose divine 
 pain it might have died. The gravity, the hush, the 
 shadow, are all very good after the clatter and gayety 
 and glare of the streets; I sit down on the end of a' 
 bench, and taste some rare moments of quiet, sweet en- 
 joyment. 
 
 By and by, a second priest suddenly appears in the 
 pulpit, with a sort of stage-effect, since the entrance 
 thereto is concealed within the masonry of a column ; 
 and his dark-robed figure is seen in outline on the 
 lighter background of the pillar. His sermon is full of 
 rant and acrimony, and delivered with a superabundance 
 of extravagant gesticulation, utterly inharmonious with 
 the hour and the scene ; so I soon tire of listening, and 
 go on a pilgrimage to the shrines, and try to make out 
 their images and pictures in the obscurity. I stand, for 
 some moments, tracing the faint outlines of an old brown 
 canvas, in the firm belief that they tell the story of the 
 transformation of biscuits into roses, in St. Elizabeth's 
 apron ; and am considerably nonplussed when Cecilio 
 interrupts my comments and conjectures with the state- 
 ment that I am looking at a picture of Salome, bearing 
 the head of John the Baptist on a charger ! Finishing 
 my studies abruptly, I signify that I am ready to go. 
 
 On another evening, we enter the cathedral in the 
 
SUNDAY SEEING S AND DOINGS. 11 5 
 
 same unpremeditated fashion, and find that we have 
 come unawares upon a most solemn and touching ser- 
 vice, — solemn and touching even to those who have no 
 faith in its efficacy, — a mass for the souls of the dead. 
 If the building was dusky at our previous visit, it is ab- 
 solutely dark now : the night which is fast gathering 
 strength outside, is already dominant here, — it may have 
 fallen from the gloomy arch of the roof, or arisen from 
 the dank floor in vapory and sombre exhalations. A 
 single taper burns upon the altar, by which the officiat- 
 ing priest intones his solemn prayers ; but its rays pene- 
 trate only a little way into the obscurity of the nave ; 
 the tall pillars have a grim and spectral aspect; and the 
 roof, corners, and organ-loft are mere masses of heavy 
 shadow. The floor is strewn with dark, formless objects ; 
 they might be automatic figures, or strange, nocturnal 
 animals, or a hundred other things, for aught that our 
 eyes tell us ; but some fine, spiritual vision makes it clear 
 to us that we are in the presence of sorrowing human 
 souls, that the air is thick with tears and heart-break, 
 and heavy with impassioned supplication. Each one 
 is so isolated in the silence and sombreness as to be free 
 from every distraction and constraint, yet feels the 
 soothing presence of many other stricken, mourning 
 hearts, and knows that its prayers, on their upward 
 way, are blended with many consonant petitions, the 
 , unutterably tender and pathetic harmony of which can- 
 not fail to touch the ear of the All-Father. 
 
 But vainly I seek to give you an adequate concep- 
 tion of the impressive solemnity and weird suggestive- 
 
176 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 ness of the scene — the vast, ancient edifice, venerable 
 with the consecration of the prayers of many vanished 
 and ghostly generations — the one taper, shining like a 
 star in the midnight of the chancel — the low, subdued 
 chant of the priest — the intervals of awe-struck silence 
 — the shadowy, motionless forms of the scattered peni- 
 tents, that seem but dim hints of other scarcely more 
 substantial shapes that may be lurking in the remote 
 corners, or peering down from the dim arch aloft. Its 
 influence — spell — magnetism — what you will ! — domi- 
 nates prejudice, and vanquishes resistance, in every 
 heart that has some time bled over a grave (and few 
 there are who have not) ; it tyrannizes over me to such a 
 degree that I am constrained to seek out a dim nook, 
 and straightway drop on my knees. But my dead, 
 thank God ! — all of whom I have the dear right to say 
 "mine" — have died "in the communion of the Catholic 
 Church, in the confidence of a certain faith, in the com- 
 fort of a reasonable, religious, and holy hope ; " — I need 
 not pray for them, if I dared ! But there are others, 
 not gone down to the Silent Land, yet as dead to me as 
 if the Spring grasses and violets had drawn their inex- 
 orable bars between our faces, for whom it is still per- 
 missible to say the prayer of faith. And may it add 
 some touch of tender blessing to their far-away lives ! 
 
 The voice of the priest at the altar dies away into 
 silence, and there are some moments of a stillness so 
 deep, so utter, that I involuntarily hold my breath ; yet 
 so subtly interfused with intense, powerful emotion, 
 that the sound of a shriek would really be a relief, and 
 
SUNDAY SEEING S AND DOINGS. Ill 
 
 I momentarily expect to hear one from some over- 
 charged and sensitive heart. Instead thereof, a rich, 
 tender, thrilling voice seems to grow out of the hush — 
 certainly it does not break it ! — to whose wondrous 
 music of tone and melody of modulation I listen en- 
 tranced, for a time, without being at all cognizant of the 
 sense of its words. Presently, I perceive that it is talk- 
 ing quietly of the Fatherhood of God, of His unresting 
 care for the Universe, His tender taking of thought for 
 those who never think of Him, the lavish fall of His sun 
 and rain upon the just and the unjust, and the dew-drop- 
 pings of His bounty on the improvident and unthankful. 
 Then, in deep, sombre, penetrating tones, it draws a 
 Rembrandt-like picture of the terrible orphanage of the 
 world if, by any means, the reality and the conception of 
 God the Father were utterly lost and forgotten, and its 
 place nUed by some cold abstraction of Law or Des- 
 tiny — a picture that curdles one's very heart-blood, and 
 causes one's bosom to heave and strain with an oppres- 
 sive, insufferable weight of ideal woe. " Only a picture 
 now, thank God ! " it says, in ineffably solemn and pity- 
 ing tones, " yet certain to become, in some sort, a dread 
 reality to all those, who, having despised God's mercy 
 here, are cast out of the sunshine of His favor, and into 
 the fire of His wrath hereafter ! " Then, suddenly 
 changing to a tone of perfect, joyous faith, it sets forth 
 the comfort of knowing that God is, in a special and most 
 tender sense, the father of those who trust in Him, and 
 how confidently all such may commit their dead to His 
 gracious love ; ending with a wonderfully thrilling and 
 8* 
 
178 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 pathetic appeal to the irreligious, by the memory, and 
 for the sake, of those waiting, longing, imploring dead 
 to become, in this full and final sense, His children. 
 And the voice ceases just as it came, and the dark spot 
 in the pulj)it, which has seemed merely a sort of nucleus 
 of the nave's mighty breadth of - shadow, vanishes 
 silently ! 
 
 I know not how I got out of the church, but I found 
 myself in the carriage, drawing a long breath, like one 
 who has just escaped from the oppressive influence of a 
 fantastic dream; — yet with a tolerably clear compre- 
 hension, for the first time in my life, how it is possible 
 for a being endowed with reason (provided a heart and 
 an imagination are super-added to that good gift) to be 
 a Roman Catholic. It is frequently said, and with truth, 
 that the services of the Romish Church appeal to the 
 senses ; but they also address themselves to pqmething 
 better and deeper — the sweetest and strongest affections 
 of the human heart ; and herein, probably, is the secret 
 of their powerful hold upon women. Convince a 
 mother — nay, give her a glimmer of hope, even — that 
 her prayers and alms can lift the erring, lost soul of her 
 child out of purgatory, and Rome has, ready made to 
 her hand, the most patient, submissive, and liberal of 
 disciples. 
 
 I record this whole matter partly for the sake of the 
 moral which I draw from it, — that it is scarcely worth 
 while to try to beat Rome with her own weapons. She 
 is an adept in stage-effects and sensuous influences, in 
 the management of drapery, light and shadow, sound 
 
SUNDAY SEEING S AND DOINGS. 1*79 
 
 and silence ; and her skill and unscrupulousness in using 
 them, put all such attempts at a frightful disadvantage. 
 Doiia Coloma sets me down at home, and then pro- 
 ceeds to opera, retreta, or family reunion, as her mood 
 dictates. And now, at last, a measure of quiet is vouch- 
 safed to me; for the children are out or asleep, the 
 servants are mostly off a-pleasuring, and the sweet, 
 plaintive music of " La Sonambula," or " Lucia," soft- 
 ened and spiritualized by the distance and the evening- 
 hush, does not seem harshly out of keeping with the 
 hour. Or, it may be that Francisca, heart-heavy with 
 homesick longings for her island-home, lingers on the 
 balcony, and croons to herself and the sea an old, quaint, 
 pathetic Spanish hymn, whose simple melody and ex- 
 quisite Reeling bring tears to my eyes. The refrain slips 
 into an English dress thus : 
 
 Woe is me ! 
 'Tie I that offended Thee ! 
 
 But the rod 
 Thou did'st endure, oh, my God ! — 
 
 albeit, the idiomatic simplicity and tenderness of the 
 remainder laugh translation to scorn. The Spanish 
 language is exceedingly amenable to verse, by reason 
 of its wealth of idioms, its profusion of ready rhymes, 
 its rich and stately rhythm, and the figurative character 
 of its phraseology; but its poetry is very difficult of 
 translation, — all the finer essence escapes in the process. 
 The real truth being, perhaps, that its beauty is oftener 
 due to music of sounds, and harmony of versification, 
 than to high and sustained poetic thought. 
 
180 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 Of such domestic religious observances as grace at 
 meals, and family prayers, I have seen nothing ; which 
 is, by no means, to be admitted as indubitable evidence 
 that such things do not exist. The observer in foreign 
 countries is in continual danger of classifying individual 
 traits as national characteristics, and cannot safely argue, 
 except after a very long sojourn, that what he does not 
 see is never to be seen, nor .that what he sees once is 
 commonly to be seen. 
 
 He will not go amiss, however, if he set it down in 
 his note-book that an oratory, or chapel, or something 
 similar, is to be found in every Cuban dwelling. My 
 hostess has, in her own room, a large case of rosewood 
 and glass, containing : First, a crucifix of extremely 
 antique appearance, with angles and edges t^at have 
 been rounded off by the teeth or tongue of Time, until it 
 has greatly the aspect of a sugar-toy that has been sub- 
 jected to the ordeal of an infantile mouth, being an heir- 
 loom of the House of Samano, handed down from eldest 
 son to eldest son through many generations, and valued 
 accordingly. The scarf — I should say " sudario ! " — 
 which enfolds the loins of the figure of Christ, is studded 
 with family jewels, and its ends are drawn through a 
 costly diamond ring, the wedding-ring of la senora. 
 Secondly, a highly lugubrious-faced image, with a 
 golden nimbus around its head, a veil of rare, time-yel- 
 lowed lace, and a black velvet robe, garnished with 
 jewels ; which represents the Virgin as the "Mother of 
 Sorrows." Thirdly, a silver censer for burning incense. 
 Fourthly, a silver cup, and sprinkler, for " holy water," 
 
SUNDAY SEEING S AND DOINGS. 181 
 
 Fifthly, three vases of artificial flowers ; and a number 
 of smaller ornaments, which need not be catalogued. 
 By the side of the case are two heavy silver candelabra, 
 and a dainty porcelain lamp. The flame of the latter is 
 never suffered f o expire ; all the day and night long, its 
 small glow admonishes the bystanders to keep their 
 spiritual lamps trimmed and burning. Its care is one 
 of the religious duties of the mistress of the household, 
 and I think I never saw a face of greater consternation 
 than she exhibited one day, w T hen a mischievous puff of 
 wind (or might it have been the disembodied, but still 
 militant spirit of some grim old Roundhead !) during a 
 " norther," made a sly, swift dart at the flame and in- 
 stantly extinguished it. 
 
 She calls this case a " chapel," and as she plainly 
 considers it a sacred spot, wherein she sees typified the 
 whole life, death, and teaching of Christ, and through 
 which grace and benediction flow unto Jier and her 
 household, I am half-ashamed that I can associate it 
 with nothing but a show-case on Broadway, filled with 
 dolls and trinkets for sale. This comes of difference in 
 education. To her it is eloquent with signs and sugges- 
 tions of holy things, and she says her prayers and tells 
 her beads before it, doubtless, with faith and fervor. 
 And if I smile to see, it is not in scorn, be it understood, 
 neither with any assumption of superiority; but with 
 an irresistibly amused recognition of the naive and 
 childlike nature that finds help in such devotional lad- 
 ders, and with a thankful remembrance of that good 
 grace which maketh us to differ. For no man can say, 
 
182 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 positively, that if the providence of God had placed him, 
 at birth, within the vast, powerful machine of the 
 Church of Rome, he would not have come forth moulded 
 and chiselled to the pattern of the devoutest of her dis- 
 ciples. And one may hope that all fervent prayer finds 
 out the Father at last, no matter how many forms of 
 Virgin and Saint stand in the way. Happy, neverthe- 
 less, are all they who look straight up to the ineffable 
 glory of the Godhead, when they pray ; and behold the 
 transfigured Humanity of the Son, unobscured by any 
 image of the Mother — the woman, — who is, be it allowed, 
 much better adapted to the genius and purposes of 
 Home, in the way of bedizenment, exhibition, and senti- 
 mental adoration. 
 
 But there is another aspect of this " chapel " which 
 I should regret to nri^ss, embodying a lesson good for me 
 and all Protestants, — that spirit of loving sacrifice, that 
 willing offering of one's most precious things to God, 
 which does,Wn truth, dignify it with a sort of conse- 
 cration. Manifestly, the Senora has not given of that 
 which cost her nothing. Her own wedding-ring blazes 
 on the crucifix, her cherished family jewels adorn the 
 Virgin, and the solid silver candelabra were recently 
 imported from Spain, expressly for this purpose. And 
 these things are given, not lent, — never again to be 
 appropriated to any secular 'use or adornment. What- 
 ever you may think of the fitness of the gift, its pre- 
 ciousness must be allowed, and the grace of self-denial 
 which prompted it. And every shrine, every altar of 
 the Romish Church, tells the same story of self-sacrificing 
 
SUNDAY SEEINGS AND DOINGS. 183 
 
 devotion. It wore well for the wliole Protestant world, 
 if more of this spirit animated the hearts of its people, 
 and were visible in its churches ; if its gold and silver 
 were oftener wrought into cross-tipped towers that 
 should lift all humble and serious souls with Divine aspi- 
 ration and joyful faith ; if its labor were crystallized into 
 walls that should be eloquent with silent ascription and 
 vocal with spoken praise, for all coming generations ; if 
 the light and color of its gems were fused into the 
 tender glory of stained windows, that should tell the 
 stories of apostles and martyrs, or keep in remembrance 
 solemn truths, through the lovely blazonry of emblem 
 and symbol, for millions of eyes that are to open out 
 of the future, and for whose education and destiny 
 we are in some measure, responsible. The surplus jewels 
 of our women, the costly upholstery and frippery of our 
 houses — things that too frequently vulgarize rather 
 than beautify them — would build a church in every 
 village that should be a joy to the eyes, and a comfort 
 and stay to the hearts, of all that looked upon it ! 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE ENTRANCE AND EXIT OF LENT. 
 
 ""VTO history of a Cuban winter would be complete, 
 without some mention of the gayeties of the Car- 
 nival, and the solemnities of Holy .Week. The former 
 seldom get well- under way until Quinquagesima Sunday. 
 On the afternoon and evening of that day the whole city, 
 apparently, gave itself up to fun, frolic, and folly. The 
 streets and the paseo were flooded with maskers, mum- 
 mers, and spectators, on foot or in carriages ; while ladies 
 in full dress, and children in every variety of youthful 
 bedizenment, crowded the windows and balconies, to 
 watch the ebb and flow of the fantastic tide. 
 
 The popular fancy seemed to run chiefly in the chan- 
 nels of noise and grotesqueness, overlooking the softer 
 attractions of the picturesque and the humorous,— a 
 tolerably, certain indication that the lower classes had 
 the masking and the active merry-making pretty much 
 to themselves. Everywhere there were men disguised 
 as women and women disguised as men, negroes simu- 
 lating whites and whites simulating negroes, while im- 
 possible noses, chins, beards, and paunches, were the rule 
 rather than the exception. Beasts and birds were numer- 
 ous, and especially effective in point of vocalism ; there 
 
THE ENTRANCE AND EXIT OF LENT. 185 
 
 were counterfeit donkeys that brayed, lions that roared, 
 cocks that crowed, dogs that howled, and apes that 
 chattered, in a way to shame the real article into silence 
 forever. Instruments of music and of discord alike 
 helped to swell the uproar; about every third mask 
 twanged a guitar, or sawed a fiddle, or tooted a horn, or 
 banged a tin pan, or rattled a gourd, or belabored a 
 drum, with a zeal and zest wonderful to behold. Scores 
 of these organized themselves into callithumpian bands, 
 and paraded the streets, doing great execution upon 
 sensitive tympanums. Scarcely less noisy were certain 
 jn'ocessions (of which I saw two or three), consisting of 
 a grotesquely costumed leader, holding aloft an immense 
 rat in a casre, and screaming " Catch this rat ! " at the 
 top of his voice ; and followed by a double file of demo- 
 niacs, all frantically yelling in chorus, and in every variety 
 of intonation from a squeal to a roar, " Catch that rat ! 
 Catch that rat ! " These seemed to divide the popular 
 favor with processions headed by a band of music, and 
 made up of the most diverse and grotesque masks that 
 could be coupled together. Conspicuous among these 
 was an extremely tall man carefully arrayed as a fashion- 
 able belle, with gorgeous fan and preposterous train, 
 arm in arm with a tiny woman in male attire, whose coat 
 tails almost reached to her heels ; the one playing the 
 part of a coquettish maiden, and the other of a devoted 
 and persistent swain, in apparent unconsciousness either 
 of the spectators surging around them, or of the plaudits 
 and peals of laughter that everywhere greeted their 
 performance. Bringing up the rear of one of these pro- 
 
186 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 cessions was an enormous negro, in a gilded circle repre- 
 senting the sun, who amused himself with reflecting the 
 rays of the real luminary into all the eyes in his neighbor- 
 hood, by means of an ingenious arrangement of small 
 mirrors, and grinned broadly whenever the victim 
 manifested annoyance. 
 
 In the vicinity of the plaza, maskers, promenaders, 
 volantes, and carriages, were so wedged together as to 
 seem absolutely solid. However, by dint of patience, 
 vigilance, and audacity, Amavedo slowly brought us to 
 one corner of the crowded square, which we found to be 
 flanked with movable kitchens for the preparation of 
 dainties acceptable to the popular taste, and booths and 
 tables for the selling an d eating thereof. Fruit stands 
 seemed also to be doing a thriving business; the owner 
 of one of which vainly strove to tempt me with a string 
 of small, withered, tough-looking, red apples, from my 
 native shores. Vainly, — though I really cannot tell 
 whether it was disgust at their uninviting aspect, or 
 mortification at the sorry figure they made beside the 
 fresh and luscious tropical fruits, or a rush of homesick 
 memories, that forced me to turn my eyes away from 
 them as quickly as possible. But I could not shut my 
 ears to.the following dialogue close to the carriage wheel. 
 
 " Caramba, Jose ! " {in the high shrill tones of a 
 paisano) — " what kind of things are those ? " 
 
 Jose (hesitatingly). " I — I — ah — ah — is it fruit ? " 
 
 Fruit-seller {taking up the theme with animation). 
 "Apples! caballeros! Fine, fresh apples! just in from 
 the United States ! Selling like smoke, too — these are 
 
THE ENTRANCE AND EXIT OF LENT. 187 
 
 all I have left! Try some? {insinuatingly) only ten 
 cents each ! " 
 
 Two apples are bought. The next remark is from 
 Jose, mingled with sounds of spitting and spluttering, — 
 
 " Caramba ! Tomas ! what sort of people must they 
 be who have no better fruit to eat than that ! " 
 
 Tomas [munching slowly and critically). "I don't 
 know (munches)— on the whole (munches) — I think I 
 rather like it. You see (munches) — it isn't eaten in a 
 hurry, and I always did like something to chew at ! " 
 
 In this quarter, the masks were thicker and noisier 
 than ever, yet I saw but one worthy of note — a Falstaff 
 of such unwieldy proportions that it required three or 
 four good natured friends to set him in motion, after 
 every stoppage ; but when once fairly under way, the 
 crowd rolled back from his bluff sides like waves from a 
 headland. At one corner of the plaza, a small space had 
 been cleared, where somebody was continually going off 
 into waltzes, jigs, or the favorite danza criolla, with a 
 constant change of partners and musicians. And once 
 or twice, a number of strange masks joined hands, and 
 danced slowly round and round in a circle, accompanying 
 themselves with a monotonous and even mournful chant, 
 which had an almost funereal effect amid the prevailing 
 fun and frenzy. It was a touch of the skeleton at the 
 antique feasts — the inevitable suggestion of sorrow 
 breaking up through all human mirth, yet investing it 
 with a still stronger characteristic of mad, reckless 
 jollity. 
 
 Occasionally, too, there was a strange pause in the 
 
188 MY WINTER IK CUBA. 
 
 merriment, a contagious silence spread itself throughout 
 the crowd, as if every individual therein had suddenly 
 stopped to consider whether this furious revel was really 
 worth his while, — whether it were possible to distil any 
 drop of tne true essence of enjoyment from this noisy 
 ebullition of folly. And then the hubbub began again, 
 forced and fitful at first, but gradually swelling louder 
 and louder, till it seemed that every voice in the vast 
 throng must lend its aid to the mighty aggregate of 
 sound ; while every face, young or old, white or black, 
 beautiful or ugly, was lit up by a smile or broadened by 
 a grin. 
 
 Yet, at best, it was plain to see that only the lower 
 ranks of society gave themselves up heartily to the spirit 
 of the hereditary festival. The higher classes might 
 now and then dip briefly into the frolic; in the person of 
 some youthful representative; but, for the most part, 
 they contented themselves with looking on and laughing. 
 It would seem that the motley show of the carnival, 
 coming down to us from a ruder and simpler age, is best 
 suited to rude and simple tastes. Flowing through the 
 midst of the modern civilization, it still keeps its ancient 
 hue and tone. For every mask, every absurdity, every 
 fantasy, which is the sportive effluence of the present 
 day, there are a hundred bearing the stamp of the broad, 
 ancient humor ; and whereat so many buried generations 
 have laughed as to make them more melancholy than 
 mirthful, in all thoughful eyes. 
 
 Certain it is, that in the present instance, scarce any 
 but negroes and children followed the sport with un- 
 
THE ENTRANCE AND EXIT OF LENT. 189 
 
 flagging interest to the end. For myself, the limit to my 
 enjoyment of grotesqueness and extravaganza being 
 always quickly reached, I was glad when, on Tuesday at 
 midnight, the last masker left tne street, the last peal of 
 laughter died away into the wholesome quietude of 
 Lent. 
 
 During this season, the bells seem to ring almost con- 
 stantly, and the services are numerous. Perhaps the 
 church accommodation of Matanzas is not so inadequate 
 as it first appears: it must be taken into consideration 
 that its three houses of worship stand always open for 
 the use of penitent or pilgrim, that it has a daily ser- 
 vice, and that, on Sundays and all important feasts and 
 fasts, one mass continually follows another, with a fresh 
 priest and a new congregation, from early morn to 
 dusky eve. Certainly, I never saw any of the churches 
 overcrowded — or even well filled — except on occasions 
 of unusual spectacular attraction. The ordinary Lenten 
 services appeared to be but thinly attended, and the 
 Lenten rule of life somewhat less strict than is usual in 
 Roman Catholic countries. Nobody within the scope of 
 my observation, abstained from the use of meat, except 
 on the two last days of Holy Week. I had already 
 noticed that no one seemed to think a fish diet obliga- 
 tory on Fridays ; and when I ventured to express my 
 surprise thereat, I was told that Innocent VIII., in the 
 fifteenth century, granted an unlimited dispensation 
 from Friday fasting to the whole Spanish nation, in 
 requital of their final expulsion of the Moors ; which 
 grace the Cubans inherit by right of lineal descent. I 
 
190 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 tell the tale as it was told me, not having taken the 
 trouble to verify the statement. 
 
 Palm Sunday was observed by fastening the graceful 
 leaves of the royal palm into doors and windows ; and 
 the devout wore bits of them on their bosoms or carried 
 them in their hands. Often, they were braided into 
 crosses, stars, rosettes, bracelets, and other pretty de- 
 vices, by the skilful fingers of the ladies ; who first have 
 them blessed by a priest, and then bestow them upon 
 their friends. 
 
 From the forenoon of Maunday Thursday until 
 Easter morning, the city breathes an almost oppressive 
 atmosphere of stillness and gloom. The bells are for- 
 bidden to ring, — the clocks, even, are prevented from 
 striking the hours. Not a vehicle of any sort whatever 
 is allowed in the streets; business is necessarily sus- 
 pended ; guards and sentinels march with arms reversed ; 
 flags are at half-mast ; women attired all in black pass 
 slowly through the streets on their way to church; it 
 seems a city suddenly overtaken by some dire and wide- 
 spread calamity. 
 
 On Good Friday, the churches are all hung with 
 funereal drapery, pictures and images veiled, flowers, 
 tinsel, and whatever is bright and cheerful of tone, 
 covered or removed. The Cathedral is like a vast, dim 
 tomb, filled with black-robed mourners. Such, at least, 
 is its surface aspect, and it is hardly worth our while to 
 look beneath. All day long, services are going on 
 within its walls ; and echoes of its solemn chants drift 
 far down the silent streets. At dusk, a life-like repre- 
 
THE ENTRANCE AND EXIT OF LENT 191 
 
 sentation of the dead Christ, on a large "black-draped 
 catafalque, is borne through the city, followed by a vast 
 procession of priests, religious orders, charitable soci- 
 eties, civic and military bodies, and multifarious ranks 
 of men, women, and children. On this occasion alone, 
 of the whole year, the entire population may be seen in 
 the streets and on foot, without exception of class, color, 
 sex, or age. The millionaire elbows the slave; the 
 silken robe of the countess touches, on one side, the 
 unfragrant rags of poverty, and on the other, the piti- 
 able garments of shame. There is a continuous, inartic- 
 ulate murmur, like the roar of the sea, and there are 
 occasional ripples of .the elaborate crossing, before 
 described, — but.no loud talking nor laughter, no rude- 
 ness nor quarrelling, no tumultuous swaying to and fro 
 of the dense human tide, no noticeable disorder of any 
 sort. Nevertheless, decorous as the crowd appears, and 
 devout as some few of its members undoubtedly sire, 
 there is a nameless something about it, in gross, be- 
 tokening that it is come hither to enjoy a show, a spec- 
 tacle, an objective display, rather than to take part in a 
 heartfelt, religious rite. It is law and custom that have 
 shut the shops and stopped the pulsations of trade and 
 commerce, it is official obligation, on the one hand, and 
 love of parade and excitement, on the other, which have 
 filled the ranks of that immense procession ; it is partly 
 the prospect of scenic display, and partly the social in- 
 stinct, which have packed together this vast concourse 
 of spectators. 
 
 And in truth it is a sight worth seeing ! — the long 
 
192 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 river of wavering lights, shining on priestly robe and 
 monastic gown, on civic pomp and insignia, on military 
 uniforms and society banners ; and flowing between dark 
 banks of spectators, wherein young and old, rich and 
 poor, dusky and fair, stand side by side under the clear- 
 eyed stars and the tender, tropical sky ! I wish I had 
 bethought me to go through the crowd with a note- 
 book, sketching a representative character here and 
 there; the result must needs have been a gallery of 
 portraits far better worth jjreserving than the caricatures 
 of the carnival ; but I did not, and in my memory the 
 multifarious throng becomes a dusky, indistinguishable 
 human mass. At least, the only figure which comes 
 forth prominently to my mind's eye, is that of a massive 
 negress, planted solidly upon a street corner, with a 
 gigantic cigar in her mouth, and a broad, unctuous 
 aspect of the serenest satisfaction. It would seem, to 
 look at her, that the whole spectacle had been designed 
 for her exclusive benefit. 
 
 The procession, having finished its course, disap- 
 peared from view, but the crowd seemed loth to leave 
 the streets. At eleven, it was still surging to and fro, 
 and I went to sleep by its murmur. 
 
 Early on Easter-Even, I was roused by a wild uproar 
 without, — a mingling of shouts of anger and execration 
 with sounds of blows and pistol-shots, that seemed 
 serious. With visions of riot and revolution and slave 
 insurrection chasing one another swiftly through my 
 brain, I made a headlong toilet, and rushed to the 
 balcony. There I beheld a wretched effigy dragged 
 
THE ENTRANCE AND EXIT OF LENT. 193 
 
 through the street, by a rope round its neck, and fol- 
 lowed and set upon by a mob that spat upon it, that 
 beat it with sticks and brooms, that cut it with knives 
 and riddled it with pistol-balls, — that, in short, lavished 
 upon it every cruelty and indignity which human in- 
 genuity could devise. 
 
 "What does it mean?" I asked, wonderingly, of 
 Doiia Coloma, who soon joined me. 
 
 "It is Judas, the betrayer of our Lord," she ans- 
 wered, gravely. 
 
 The disgusting scene was closed by hanging the 
 effigy from the highest attainable post ; where it served 
 as a target for mischievous boys and idle negroes, until 
 fairly annihilated by persistent persecution. This was 
 accomplished ere noon, when the Lenten quietude once 
 more settled over the city. 
 
 But with the breaking of Easter morning, lo ! what a 
 change ! In an instant, as it seems, the city passes from 
 the extremity of gloom to the extremity of joy. Bells 
 peal — trumpets sound — flags wave — drums beat — salutes 
 are fired from the forts, and the ships in the harbor — 
 vokmtes, drays, victorias, whatever goes on wheels, 
 dash noisily through the streets — friends exchange glad 
 greetings, — it is an universal chorus of rejoicing. The 
 risen Christ is borne through the city in triumphal pro- 
 cession, and returns to the cathedral in season for a 
 gorgeous scenic service. And let me not forget to note 
 that, for the first time in this " Island of Flowers " — as 
 it is poetically named — I saw the altars and shrines 
 decorated with fresh, fragrant, natural blossoms, in 
 9 
 
194 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 place of the gaudy and scentless imitations usually 
 found there. A Cubana would fain persuade me that 
 the latter, representing more skill and money, are the 
 worthier offering. I am slow to accept the conclusion. 
 Even here, fresh flowers of the rarer varieties, offered 
 daily, would cost more, in care and labor, than their 
 waxen and muslin counterfeits, seldom renewed, and 
 often faded by time and dingy with dust. And the gain 
 in artistic beauty, in poetic sentiment and spiritual har- 
 mony, would be incalculable. Yet a second thought 
 compels me to admit that I may here be talking non- 
 sense. There is so little that is fresh and natural in the 
 Romish ritual, that the use of artificial flowers may have 
 grown out of a nicer, deeper sense of fitness than I 
 possess. 
 
 It would be pleasant to close our account of Easter 
 rejoicings here. But the faithful chronicle must needs 
 state furthermore that, with its unwonted religious ani- 
 mation and cheerfulness, the city also assumed an un- 
 usual activity of secular business and pleasure. The 
 shoj)S were temptingly open, street-venders were noisy 
 and busy, the paseo was crowded, the retreta exception- 
 ally brilliant, in the afternoon there was a bull-fight at 
 the Plaza de Toros y and in the evening an operatic 
 performance at the Teatro Esteban. So I was told, at 
 least, — for I verified none of these statements save by 
 observations from my balcony. But thence I witnessed 
 so many profane sights, and heard so many profane 
 sounds, that further confirmation was unnecessary. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 COSAS DE CUBA. 
 
 /COUNTRIES, like individuals, have certain ways and 
 habits peculiar to themselves, neither the origin 
 nor the utility of which is always patent to others. 
 Often, the fact that they exist is the best reason assign- 
 able for their existence. In Spain these things have 
 been happily termed, cosas de JEspana. I borrow the 
 title, with an obvious variation, for a chapter devoted to 
 such Cuban peculiarities as do not come easily under 
 other heads. 
 
 And first, the climate. Anything more delicious can 
 scarcely be conceived of. It does not smile at you one 
 day and frown at you the next, aujowcPhui voire servi- 
 teur et demain Judas, after the changeable fashion of 
 our northern summer ; but day after day of genial warmth 
 and unclouded splendor unfold before you, more intox- 
 icatingly sweet and surpassingly fair as the season 
 advances. The terms " winter " and " spring " seem 
 almost to lose their significance in a land always green 
 with verdure, fragrant with bloom, and luscious with 
 fruit. A better division of the Cuban year is into 
 two seasons, the wet and the dry. The former begins 
 
196 MY WIXTEK IX CUBA. 
 
 late in May, and lasts till October. During its contin- 
 uance, there are daily showers, often accompanied by 
 thunder and lightning; which serve to moderate in some 
 degree the extreme heat. After them the sun shines out 
 bright, the air is both fresh and soft, the verdure seems 
 new-created, flowers open and scatter their perfume 
 everywhere, and the afternoon drive is a delight. The 
 dry season stretches from the first of October to the end 
 of May, during which rain is of rare occurrence, the 
 variations of temperature slight, the days all gold and 
 sapphire, the nights all silver and amethyst, — indeed, 
 says Frederika Bremer, " there could not be more beauti- 
 ful nights in Paradise." To be sure, chill winds known 
 as los nortes do now and then blow from the north, 
 during the winter months, lasting, possibly, for forty- 
 eight hours, whereat the Cubans shiver and grumble 
 exceedingly ; but the Northerner, accustomed to winds 
 of much austerer temper, scarce minds them at all. Still, 
 it is well to protect one's self by extra clothing, during 
 their continuance, as colds for the careless are apt to 
 come in their train. The mean temperature of the island, 
 throughout the year, is declared to be eighty degrees ; 
 during the hottest months, eighty-three. In the middle 
 of the day, it is generally quite warm enough to make 
 rest, idleness, refrescos, and siestas, agreeable ; though 
 the heat is much mitigated by the sea-breeze, which reg- 
 ularly rises about ten o'clock, and subsides at four. 
 Then, a delicious breeze from the land, fragrant with 
 the breath of innumerable flowers, springs up ; and the 
 nights are rarely so warm as to interfere with sleep. It 
 
COS AS DE CUBA. 197 
 
 will be recollected, also, that the houses and habits of 
 life are arranged to suit the climate: spacious rooms, 
 lofty, wide-open doors and windows, marble and stone 
 floors, cane-seated furniture, the cooling refrescos always 
 at hand, the custom of doing all out-door business before 
 breakfast, — all these things make the problem " How-to- 
 keep-cool " much easier of solution than we are apt to 
 find it during the hottest part of our northern summer. 
 
 Cuban courtesy is perfection itself, to outward ap- 
 pearance ; but some of it turns out to be veneering and 
 not true wood, on examination- When I call upon any 
 of Dona Coloma's friends, I am told, with a sweeping, 
 all-comprising gesture, — " This house is your home ; it, 
 and everything it contains, are at your disposal." Ren- 
 dered into plain English, this means, simply, "I am 
 glad to see you ; pray call again." If it becomes neces- 
 sary for me to ask, " Whose book is this ? Whose any- 
 thing is this ? " the reply (if from the owner thereof) must 
 needs be, " Mine, and yours also." If I express admira- 
 tion of anything, — no matter what, horses, furniture, 
 ornaments, the dress which my friend is wearing, — the 
 invariable response is, " Take it, it is yours," or, " It is 
 entirely at your disposal." This seems lavishly, and 
 even embarrassingly, generous, until you learn that its 
 English equivalent would be, " I am glad that you ad- 
 mire it." I remember an amusing little scene, in point. 
 The elder Senora Samano received a birthday gift of an 
 embroidered handkerchief from her daughter, which she 
 exhibited to Dona Mariquilla and myself, with a beam- 
 ing face ; and as we offered the expected meed of admi- 
 
198 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 ration, she repeated to each of us the usual formula, "It 
 is yours," and then composedly folded it up and put it 
 in her pocket, utterly oblivious of the fact that she had 
 twice given it away ! 
 
 Occasionally, some foreigner, more obtuse than the 
 generality, accepts the gift thus offered, and the Cuban 
 is forced to surrender it, or to explain that his phrase- 
 ology will not bear too literal a construction ! I must 
 do him the justice to state that he chooses the former 
 course, unless the article in question is of great value 
 or indispensable necessity. Indeed, report says that a 
 certain Havana nabob, being thus unexpectedly taken 
 at his word, and too proud to retract, did actually send 
 his fine carriage and horses, with his compliments, to 
 the door of the simple-minded American who had ac- 
 cepted them ! 
 
 One Cuban custom impresses me pleasantly — children 
 always kiss the hands of their parents by way of saluta- 
 tion and leave-taking ; the kiss on the mouth may follow 
 if they choose. It is in strong contrast with the rude 
 familiarity one too often sees in American children, 
 Doiia Coloma lifts the hand of her mother to her* lips 
 with a pretty air of reverent tenderness, and the stately 
 old lady receives her homage with the dignified gracious- 
 ness of a benignant sovereign ; while I, looking on, am 
 deeply touched by the beauty and fitness of the custom, 
 its evident rendering of that honor to parents to which 
 God has attached the promise of " long days in the 
 land." 
 
 A young colored-girl, in gala-day attire, entered the 
 
COSAS BE CUBA. 109 
 
 sala one evening, and with many courtesies and compli- 
 ments, presented each member of the family a bit of gay 
 ribbon, folded together, with a knot at one end, and a silver 
 coin at the other. This was a pretty way of giving 
 notice that a christening had taken place in the family 
 of an acquaintance. On one side of the ribbon was 
 printed the child's name, and the date of birth, and on 
 the other the names of the padrinos, or sponsors. When 
 the godfather, whose duty it is to provide these things, 
 is very wealthy, the coin affixed is of gold. 
 
 Apropos to this : one of the house-servants had the 
 honor to stana as godmother to the child of a friend 
 recently, and after the ceremony was over, she brought 
 her godchild to exhibit to us, in its christening finery. 
 And very fine, indeed, I thought it, in its robe of white 
 satin, and lace overdress, with a dainty frill around^ its 
 small olive-colored face ; but a closer inspection showed 
 that this elegant toilet was a compound that would not 
 bear resolving. The satin and lace robe was only a sort 
 of apron, looking extremely well as long as the infant 
 was held right side out in the nurse's arms ; but on its 
 being reversed, a quite unexpected background to so fair 
 a picture was presented, of which the most noticeable 
 feature was a dingy brown flannel petticoat ! 
 
 Cuban children, white and black, are evidently con- 
 sidered to be yet in a state of paradisiacal innocence, 
 and are clothed— or unclothed — accordingly. Rafael, 
 Christinita, and Ramona, are running about " sublimely 
 in the nude," as Aurora Leigh hath it, for a good part of 
 the time ; ready to serve, at short notice, for tableaux of 
 
200 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 Cupid or the Cherubim. One who has not had the 
 advantage of being brought up to that sort of thing, 
 cannot wholly enjoy their poses when the gentlemen are 
 about : nevertheless, one of the very finest pictures in 
 my Cuban gallery is the naked Christinita in the arms of 
 her black nurse, and both fast asleep in a large chair ; 
 the fair, rounded outlines and delicate features of the 
 Caucasian child being strongly contrasted with the 
 black, brawny arm and coarse traits of the African 
 woman. A better subject for painter's skill is rarely 
 seen. Excellent types of two widely different, yet 
 strangely associated, races ; the ignorant, brute fidelity 
 of the slave touchingly apparent in the close embrace 
 wherewith, even in her slumber, she holds the child to 
 her bosom ; the fine lines of whose fair figure and promi- 
 nent brow speak clearly of a more delicate organization, 
 a higher intellect, a richer cultivation. I know not how 
 long I stood musing before these eloquent figures — so 
 long that even the rude perceptions of the negress felt 
 the magnetism of my steady gaze, and she woke to stam- 
 mer an excuse for being caught sleeping in the " sala." 
 
 Nor is nudity confined to the day only. Night after 
 night I have seen the little ones laid, stark naked, on 
 their hard beds, under a mosquito net, and left to go to 
 sleep without other covering than the soft air. The 
 dreamy journey being accomplished, a linen sheet may 
 or may not be drawn over them, at the discretion of the 
 nurse. It must be confessed that they thrive on this 
 regimen. Healthier children, or more finely developed 
 forms, are not to be found. 
 
COSAS DE CUBA. 201 
 
 Next to no costume naturally comes thin costume. I 
 have seen a boy of six years old, clad in pantaloons and 
 blouse of sheer, white muslin, — nothing else — as I hope 
 to be believed ! 
 
 Moreover, if there be need of the services of a 
 painter, whitcwasher, or carpenter, in any Cuban dwel- 
 ling, let not the foreign visitor be surprised nor dis- 
 concerted to see his shirt worn carelessly outside his 
 pants ! It is cooler thus, and less restraint upon motion. 
 And time will teach her that, so far from having any 
 cause to complain of his fashion of wearing the garment, 
 she has reason to be thankful that he is not in his sldn 
 only, from his waist upwards. 
 
 One odd Cuban custom was made known to me 
 through the medium of a tall, sullen-looking negress, 
 named Rosa, once hired to assist in the laundry. Scarce 
 a week of her occupancy had gone by, ere Ricardo, 
 lynx-eyed in detecting offences and offenders, came to 
 report that he suspected her of stealing. "Bring me 
 proofs, not suspicions," responded his mistress, curtly. 
 Two days after, the proofs were forthcoming, in the 
 shape of an odd assortment of coals, candles, crackers, 
 towels, stockings, thread, etc., etc., which the Chinaman 
 had ferreted out of some secret corner and spread in 
 order upon the dining-room table, like a collection of 
 curiosities. 
 
 " Put them back where you found them, and send 
 Rosa to me," said la sefiora, after a brief inspection. 
 
 The woman shortly appeared, glancing around her 
 suspiciously. 
 
202 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 " Whore did you tell me that you worked last?" 
 asked Dona Coloma, quietly. 
 
 "At Madruga, senora." 
 
 " Why did you leave there ? " 
 
 " I could not get any more work." 
 
 " Take off your turban." 
 
 The negress started back with a cry of alarm and 
 remonstrance. 
 
 The seiiora made a slight, significant gesture; and 
 Atanasia, who was standing near, snatched off the 
 turban ere the wearer comprehended what she was 
 about. With it came an artistic padding of moss, doing 
 duty for hair ; and underneath was a bare-shaven poll ! 
 
 " Enough," said Doiia Coloma, " pay her her wages, 
 and send her off." 
 
 And thus I learned that all blacks detected in thiev- 
 ing, even children, are immediately shaven; which 
 brands them sufficiently, for a time, at least. It is not 
 uncommon, in hiring strange negresses, to request them 
 to take off their turbans, — a precaution which, in this 
 instance, had been unwisely omitted. 
 
 Set it down as a creditable cosa de Cuba that intoxi- 
 cation is either very rare, or kept out of sight. I have 
 not yet seen a case of it. The nearest approach there- 
 unto was a negro, who went past the house singing 
 noisily one night , and was, apparently, put under an 
 extinguisher by the sereno at the corner. 
 
 Every resident of Cuba is required to give notice to 
 the proper official of any change of domicil; of every 
 increase or . diminution of his household, whether by 
 
COS AS BE CUBA. 203 
 
 birth, death, arrival and departure of guests, lodgers, 
 et ccetera ; and of all reunions, balls, parties, and other 
 large entertainments, that he proposes to give ; — in all 
 which matters the government takes a lively interest. 
 And if he is wise, he will put his name to no petitions, 
 — certainly to none signed by more than two of his 
 neighbors, — lest he furnish ground for an accusation of 
 conspiracy and sedition, and consequent arrest and trial. 
 
 Moreover, if he wishes to engage in building, or 
 repairs, he must first procure, and pay for, a license. 
 But he must not construe this into an unlimited pel-mis- 
 sion to blockade the street, and endanger the lives of 
 unwary passers by. Wherever, at night, a pile of brick, 
 stone, or plank, a mortar-bed, a gap in the pavement, or 
 other nuisance occasioned by building, is found in a 
 Cuban street; it will also be found to be surmounted 
 by a pole and a lantern, making it visible afar off, 
 and allowing its exact nature and extent to be seen 
 and avoided. Any failure to set up this beacon is 
 punishable by a heavy fine. The blockade will a^so be 
 scrupulously limited to one third of the narrow street. 
 What would New Yorkers, accustomed to obstruct their 
 thoroughfares with building materials, and to tumble 
 over them, at their own sweet will, say to restrictions 
 such as these ? 
 
 Of all cosas de Cicba, none is so irksome to ladies 
 from the United States as the social edict which confines 
 them so much within doors, forbidding them to drive 
 or ride with other male friend than husband, father, or 
 brother; and debarring them from walking, except to 
 
204 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 church, and then only under the protection of page, or 
 duenna, or near male relative. Nor is this law to be 
 violated with impunity, as I* have reason to know. For 
 one morning, Juan, having occasion to drive out in a 
 buggy, invited me to accompany him, little thinking 
 what a commotion so simple a proceeding was to excite. 
 No sooner did we appear in the streets than everybody 
 — men, women, and children, — stopped to gaze, as if 
 spellbound; — people at the windows called to those 
 within to come and look, and they who were called 
 came, in every variety of dress and undress, and with 
 every sort of implement, stopping not to don* or drop 
 anything. One man ran in his shirt only, women rushed 
 to the windows with streaming hair, cooks came with 
 frying-pans in hand, laundresses with flat irons, clerks 
 with goods, and the merchant with his pen. They 
 shouted — they laughed — they gesticulated — they gazed 
 in open-mouthed wonder — they seemed to have gone 
 stark, staring mad. We might have been tracked 
 through the city by the dazed, wondering, excited faces 
 that we left behind us. The thing was so ridiculous 
 that it was impossible not to laugh ; yet it was unpleas- 
 ant, too, to be the subject of so much amazed and 
 jeering comment, and I uttered an emphatic resolve to 
 try the buggy no more. But Juan decreed otherwise. 
 " We are neither of us Cubans," said he, " and in this 
 matter, there is no good reason why we should be bound 
 by their senseless customs. A morning drive, now and 
 then, will do you good. And the people will soon get 
 accustomed to the sight. A nine days' wonder never 
 
COS AS BE CUBA. 205 
 
 lasts ten." Which conclusion proved to be drawn from 
 the fount of wisdom. Long ere its ninth appearance, 
 the buggy, with its freight, was suffered to go and come 
 through the city as unnoticed as any market wagon. 
 
 The Cuban way of attracting attention is by means 
 of a sharp, sibillant sound, best represented by the let- 
 ters, "P-s-t!" With this, servants are summoned, 
 volantes stopped, street venders signaled, children called 
 to order, and the notice of friend or stranger arrested. 
 The Cuban mode of beckoning also differs from ours. 
 The hand is held up with the palm outwards, and the 
 fingers moved in a way that we should be certain to 
 interpret as a sign to depart and be seen no more. 
 
 A noticeable cosa de Matanzas is the prevalence 
 of images of the Virgin, one or more of which seems 
 to be enshrined in every dwelling. It occurred to 
 me to wonder whence these things came, and to ask if 
 they constituted a regular branch of trade. To which 
 Don Enrique replied, that they were much more common 
 than formerly, owing to the fact that a neighboring com- 
 mission and shipping house not long since received from 
 Spain, to its great surprise and disgust, a large consign- 
 ment of particularly ugly undressed dolls. Such, at 
 least, they were at first supposed to be ; but they proved 
 to be invoiced as " Virgenes santisimas " — that is to say, 
 representations of the Virgin. Scarcely better pleased 
 with this view of the case, the firm nevertheless decided 
 to put a good face on it, and duly advertised for sale, 
 " Virgenes santisimas, direct from Spain." The rush 
 that followed was beyond anything ever seen in Matan- 
 
206 MY WINTJSn 18 CUBA. 
 
 zas. The street leading to the warehouse was literally- 
 packed with volantes, wherein the fairest aristocracy 
 of the city and suburbs patiently waited their turn 
 to be served (to say nothing of humbler custom- 
 ers) ; and the whole lot of images was sold out at a 
 handsome profit, long before the demand ceased ; — each 
 purchaser triumphantly bearing off her prize, to be fitted 
 for use by being first decked in costly array, and then 
 presented to a priest for consecration. 
 
 The dowry of a widow in Cuba consists of one half 
 the gain made during the years of wedlock. For ex- 
 ample, a neighbor recently died, leaving property valued 
 at two hundred and fifty thousand dollars ; he was worth 
 thirty thousand at his marriage; the widow's share, 
 therefore, was one hundred and ten thousand. This is 
 giving direct and fitting testimony to the value of the 
 wife's assistance to her husband ; in advice, encourage- 
 ment, economy, etc., and seemed to me more just than 
 the "third" apportioned to her use by our laws. But 
 if there be no increase ? " Ay, there's the rub !" 
 
 Insect-life in Cuba is abundant and manifold, but 
 when it develops in the shape of ar arias peludas (hairy 
 spiders) two inches long, and long-tailed scorpions vic- 
 ious and spiteful enough to contain, the combined venom 
 of a whole generation of metemsychosed wasps, one 
 prefers to examine it post mortem. To ants, however, I 
 have become so accustomed that I do not always take 
 the trouble to brush them off the articles which I ani 
 using ; though I do object to have my washstand pitcher 
 chosen by a whole colony bent on suicide, as a conven- 
 
COSAS BE CUBA. 207 
 
 lent means of- quitting this sphere of existence. As for 
 cockroaches, I have a suspicion that the floor of my 
 room is alive with them o' nights ; and scouts are fre- 
 quently seen drawing a bee-line across the white marble 
 slabs of the sala, on warm evenings, which no one 
 seems to -think it worth while to arrest. Mosquitoes 
 appear to be but little troublesome to the natives, during 
 the daytime; but they come in swarms to enjoy the flavor 
 of what Dona Coloma calls the "thicker blood" of 
 northern visitors, — a musical throng of them generally 
 hovering around me when I am at work, while my com- 
 panions are left unmolested. 
 
 But a really beautiful and interesting insect is the 
 cocullo, or firefly of the West Indies, two of which I 
 now have upon my table in an impromptu cage. Very 
 docile are they in my hands, — to whose touch they seem 
 to have become pleasantly accustomed ; — taking kindly 
 to a diet of moist sugar in lieu of the sugar-cane .which 
 is their natural food, and accepting a semi-daily bath in 
 my wash-basin ^th much apparent enjoyment, floating 
 about in the water for several minutes, and then spread- 
 ing their legs and feelers as a sign that they are ready 
 to come out. They are a sufficiently unattractive bug 
 in their unillumined state, being of a dingy, earth-brown 
 color, and about the shape and size of a large cock- 
 roach ; but they become so glorified by the irradiation 
 of those wondrous orbs of phosphorescent light which 
 they carry about on their shoulders, that children 
 scream with delight at the sight of them, and ladies 
 make pets of them as I do, and even use them for orna- 
 
208 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 merits on some occasions. I once saw a lady at the 
 retretciy with a coronet, stomacher, and bracelets of 
 them, and all the crown jewels of Spain could not have 
 made her so resplendent. Their light is not a momen- 
 tary flash, like that of our northern fire-fly; but it is 
 emitted in a brilliant, steady ray,, at will, and is of ex- 
 treme beauty of tint, being of a slightly greenish yellow 
 from one point of view, and of a pale red from another. 
 It is a touching fact that the poorer classes are furnished 
 with a most beautiful and inexpensive light for night- 
 watchings, when sickness visits their dwellings, by con- 
 fining a half-dozen cocullos in a cage, and suspending 
 them from the ceiling.* 
 
 Is it known to the medical world that the Chinese 
 (in Cuba, at least) are wont to vaccinate in the tip of the 
 nose ? Doiia Tomasita informs me that her coolie ser- 
 vant has recently undergone the operation at the hands 
 of an -expert of his own race, and is carrying about " a 
 nose as big as a cocoa-nut." She further assures me that 
 
 * It may interest some reader to know that the cocullos "will 
 bear transportation to the United States. The pair above-men- 
 tioned crossed the Gulf with me, and were my fellow-travellers 
 for a month at the South. As it was necessary to carry them 
 openly by hand, in order to attend to their wants and give them 
 sufficient air, they attracted an almost annoying amount of atten- 
 tion in cars, steamboats, and hotels, as soon as nightfall brought 
 out their splendor ; bringing curious strangers in crowds, to inquire 
 into their character and history. If I tried to partially conceal 
 them with my shawl, it was only to be stopped at every turn 
 with the good-natured warning, " You're a-fire there, some- 
 where ! " In hotels where they remained long enough to become 
 
COS AS BE CUBA. 209 
 
 this mode of vaccination is more effectual than ours, and 
 never needs to be repeated ; — but I vouch for nothing 
 which comes not under my own observation. 
 
 A specimen of Cuban-English shall serve for finale. 
 A certain youth, whom I meet occasionally, anxious to 
 display his knowledge of my native language, often 
 assails me with an idiom, far more puzzling than any 
 Spanish. He once informed me that, at a house across 
 the way, they " swallowed boarders !" 
 
 " Swallow what ? " said I, utterly at a loss. 
 
 "Boarders — boar-ders — how you call? — huespedes?" 
 
 " Oh," said I, enlightened by the Spanish word, 
 " You mean that they take boarders." 
 
 " Si, seiiora ; no is ' take ' and c swallow ' the same ? 
 I take medicine, and I swallow it, too, no don't I ? ° 
 
 Furthermore, my young Cuban avowed that when 
 he was in the United States he " did not call on the 
 Episcopal Church, but on the Methodist!" It was 
 with some difficulty that I repressed my inclination to 
 
 known, it grew to be a regular thing for them to hold a drawing- 
 room reception every evening " by request," — the guests seem- 
 ing never to tire of watching their weird flight through the 
 darkened room, with alternate thrills of terror and delight ; or of 
 testing their recognition of me by observing how quickly they 
 dimmed their light in strange hands, but immediately kindled 
 it to its fullest brilliancy on being restored to mine. Both ended 
 their career in Savannah ; — one apparently died a natural death, 
 and the other, having escaped from its cage in the daytime, was 
 mistaken by the chambermaid for a gigantic cockroach, and 
 crushed accordingly ; so that I was disappointed in bringing 
 either to my own home. 
 
210 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 ask if the Methodist Church was inclined to be sociable 
 and returned the call ! .And he added that he had told 
 his American landlady that he would gladly take his 
 old room, on his return, "if it was not busy ; n and 
 shortly afterward apologized for a " mistake " (that is 
 to say, a stain) upon his otherwise immaculately white 
 linen coat — white linen suits being the ordinary wear for 
 gentlemen in Cuba. 
 
 Doubtless I commit equally absurd blunders in 
 Spanish, but my friends are far too polite to make me 
 aware of them. Long live the graceful Cuban courtesy, 
 and may the years give to it a richer flavor of sincerity 
 and truth ! 
 
CHAPTER XXL 
 
 TO SANTA SOFIA. 
 
 C( /~] APRICIOITS April " was sung by a northern 
 poet. In the tropics, that graceful and freakish 
 fairy is transformed into a lotus-crowned, olive-browed, 
 slumbrous-eyed houri, full of soft, warm, languid life, 
 whose breath intoxicates, and whose embrace soothes. 
 Under her reign, Nature lapses dreamily into her "melt- 
 ing mood," and the earth steeps and simmers in the fiery 
 glow of a sunshine that seems like a consummate ex- 
 tract of fine gold, poured red-hot over the palpitating 
 landscape. Whosoever travels in Cuba, at this season, 
 does so, as far as it is practicable, in the cool of the 
 morning, while there is yet more gold than heat in the 
 sunbeams. So Juan and I, vis-a-vis and alone, break- 
 fasted sumptuously on fish, eggs, rice, m and bananas, with 
 due allowance of vino Catalan and coffee ; and then, as 
 quickly as the thing could be effected, by means of a 
 crazy volante and a coyetous-eyed calesero, were trans- 
 ferred to a first-class car of the "Matanzas and Baro 
 Railway," and were soon dashing southward. 
 
 The first object of interest was the Jfonte del Pan y 
 now first seen close at hand, and discovering to us that 
 it has many aspects wherewith to enchant the beholder. 
 
212 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 Seen from Matanzas, it is a "blue, aerial* dome, fit to 
 crown a dream-cathedral ; from the Cumbres, it is a 
 cone, sculptured sharply against the velvet sky ; here, it 
 stretches out in an irregular, serried chain, and is found 
 to he not one, but many peaks, linking hands together 
 for solemn conference, or sombre-browed companion- 
 ship. Darting out from their shadow, we came upon a 
 succession of soft, wavy swells and subsidences — fields 
 of corn, cane, and yuca — vegetable gardens— orange 
 groves — plantations of pine-apple, tobacco, banana, and 
 cocoa-nut — colonnaded villas — and bamboo-framed, palm- 
 thatched cottages. To these succeeded long reaches of 
 level plain, thickly overgrown with wiry grass and sav- 
 age shrubbery ; and anon, came tangled thickets, bushy 
 slopes, wooded and rocky hillsides, and way word streams, 
 whose deeply fertile banks gave life and luxuriance to a 
 dense variety of succulent stems and gigantic leaves. 
 Wild flowers of every hue and odor, and wild vines 
 gifted with every peculiarity of creep and cling, covered 
 the ground and the thickets. Among the latter, climb- 
 ing and rioting everywhere, and too happy in its freedom 
 to shut its eyes till late in the afternoon, the morning- 
 glory mocked me with a strange familiarity in unfamili- 
 arity, — so much more luxuriant was it, growing wild 
 here, than in its cultivated state at home, and yet so 
 little modified, in most of its characteristics, by differ- 
 ence of climate. Perhaps the loveliest "bit" that I 
 saw that morning, was a crystal lakelet, whose banks 
 were just a tangled mass of these cheery blossoms ; and 
 which looked like a large diamond flung carelessly into 
 
TO SANTA SOFIA. 213 
 
 a radiant heap of sapphires, amethysts, and pearls. 
 The flowers entirely hid the foliage, — the only hint of 
 green about the picture being the placid reflection of the 
 crests of two or three lofty palm-trees in the lakelet's 
 smooth mirror. 
 
 The inhabitants have done so little to change this 
 part of their country, or Nature has lent herself so 
 kindly to their ways, that- it is easy to think it is the 
 very same landscape on which the eyes of the first ex- 
 plorers rested ; whereof Columbus wrote so enthusiasti- 
 cally, deploring his inability to delineate the beauty of 
 " the new heaven and new earth which had opened to 
 his view," and making wondering mention of the fact 
 that he had found " pines and palms growing together," 
 — those most characteristic types of arctic .and equatorial 
 vegetation dwelling here, side by side, in curious and 
 picturesque harmony. 
 
 By and by, the wild and picturesque character of the 
 landscape gives place to a more level and cultivated 
 aspect ; the hills recede to a soft, undulating line on the 
 horizon ; a green luxuriance of sugar-cane fills the val- 
 leys ; lime and aloe hedges perfume the air ; tall, white 
 chimneys send up black columns of smoke; and com- 
 pact villages, consisting of a small plaza and a street or 
 two of contiguous houses, with the gray tower of a 
 church rising among the red-tiled roofs, meet us here 
 and there. 
 
 Through all these scenes we dart at the usual rate of 
 railway travel, amid ever-growing heats, until the fixed fer- 
 vor of noon is upon us, the tired sea-breeze swoons away in 
 
214 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 the distant hills, and the earth lies, sun-tranced and silent, 
 under the glowing sky. We buy fruit, at the stations, 
 from turbaned negro-girls, with soft, dusky eyes and illim- 
 itable lips ; and we drink cool cocoa-nut water from the 
 green shell. We stare lazily at our travelling compan- 
 ions, — mostly business men, in white linen suits ; but a 
 bundle of red shawls marks the whereabout of one 
 woman, fast asleep, another is chatting merrily with her 
 escort, and an old negress, crouched in a corner, with a 
 pipe in her mouth, looks like a heap of ragged blankets, 
 smouldering within, and sending out smoke from a 
 chance opening. We buy the sixteenth share of a 
 lottery-ticket, — not that we look for any favor at Dame 
 Fortune's tricky hands, but because the vendor thereof 
 is a one-armed • soldier, pale and trembling from a recent 
 amputation, with dark, melancholy eyes, and a face of 
 hopeless misery. This is a pleasant way that the Gov- 
 ernment has of providing for her invalided servants; 
 she gives them a small monopoly of routes and lottery- 
 tickets. 
 
 Often, the stations consist of a single building, wherein 
 the produce of the neighboring plantations is collected 
 for transportation; one of them is in the midst of a 
 caneneld, and engineer and brakemen plunge into the 
 green rows with drawn knives, and help themselves to a 
 supply of this tropical refreshment sufficient to chew 
 upon for the next hour. Here, idlers are few, and pas- 
 sengers fewer still. 
 
 About one o'clock, we change cars at Union, a town 
 that seems a trifle more wide-awake than its neighbors ; 
 
TO SANTA SOFIA. 215 
 
 and in the course of an hour, we are dropped at a little 
 sun-burned and sleepy station in the heart of the sugar- 
 country. Here, a tall, white-haired negro, with a sword 
 at his side and a pistol in his belt, accosts Juan respect- 
 fully, conducts us to a volante in waiting, mounts the 
 postilion-horse, cracks his whip, and we are en route for 
 Santa Sofia, — an ingenio or sugar estate, owned by a 
 branch of that House of Samano, to whose overflowing 
 kindness I am already so deeply indebted for Cuban 
 sight-seeings and enjoyments. Our way lies through a 
 lonely sea of sugar-cane, traversed by palni-bordered 
 avenues, or lanes hedged with a dense and varied accu- 
 mulation of tropical vegetation ; through which we 
 journey at a rattling pace, while Juan explains to me 
 that our calesero goes armed", in order to be ready for 
 the attacks of runaway slaves, coolies, and other desper- 
 adoes, who sometimes lurk in the cane and thickets, with 
 intent to rob, and no insuperable objection to murder. 
 And as our guide is a faithful servitor of his master, 
 entrusted with all of the marketing and much of the 
 expressage of the house, he is in special danger of 
 molestation. « 
 
 A drive of three or four miles brought us to the 
 casa de vivie?ida i — a large, white, colonnaded structure, 
 with interior court. On its broad piazza, a pleasant fam- 
 ily party was gathered to welcome us, consisting of 
 Don Gervasio, a grave and reverend Spanish seizor, — 
 Dona Carlota, a stately elderly dame, — their eldest son. 
 Don Julio, Cuban born and bred, — his wife, Dona An- 
 gela, a highly accomplished and fascinating Barcelonian, 
 
216 MT WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 — a bevy of dark-eyed seiloritas, and three lovely chil- 
 dren. Here, I fell under the magic of a hospitality never 
 excelled, within my experience, in the quality of putting 
 a guest entirely at ease, — a hospitality so frank, so 
 graceful, and so delicate, as to make my stay at Santa 
 Sofia wholly delightful at the time, and surrounding it 
 with a kind of halo, in the retrospect. 
 
CHAPTER XXIL 
 
 THE INGENIO. 
 
 "TISTGENTO — meaning literally, engine — is a word of 
 elastic signification. Covering, in its broadest sense, 
 the whole sugar plantation of thousands of acres, its 
 meaning is first limited to apply to the large building 
 devoted to sugar-making, and on entering that, it is 
 found to be still further contracted to fit the powerful 
 steam-engine which drives the works. 
 
 My first visit was to the ingenio building, or sugar- 
 house, — a vast extent of red roof, one hundred and 
 eighty feet long, and scarcely less than half as wide, 
 supported on stout pillars, and pierced by a tall, smoke- 
 vomiting chimney ; under which roof the toilsome pro- 
 cess of sugar-making goes on unintermittedly during 
 the grinding season. The cane, fresh cut from the 
 fields, is brought in carts to one end of the long build- 
 ing, where it is laid, by hand, lengthwise, on a flexible, 
 revolving conductor made of wooden slats and links of 
 chain, which conveys it between three huge, heavy, hor- 
 izontal rollers, called maquinas de moler. From these 
 it emerges, on the opposite side, crushed and dry ; and a 
 second conductor takes it outside the building, and 
 dumps it into carts, when it is earned away to be first 
 10 
 
218 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 thoroughly dried in the sun, and then stored to serve 
 as fuel for the furnaces. The expressed juice falls into 
 a receiver beneath the rollers, whence it is pumped into 
 a long trough overhead ; through which it flows into a 
 large reservoir where it is gently heated, and deposits 
 whatever bits of cane and other impurities have accom- 
 panied it thus far. From this it is drawn into the first of a 
 " train " of three immense caldrons, in which it undergoes 
 a rapid boiling, the process of defecation being assisted 
 by the admixture of a small quantity of lime ; and is 
 then successively ladled into the two remaining caldrons, 
 and boiled, stirred, and skimmed, until it reaches the 
 granulating point. Next, it is poured into large, open, 
 shallow vats, and left to cool. When cold, it looks 
 somewhat like the thick deposit sometimes found in the 
 bottom of molasses hogsheads, and still more like par- 
 ticularly dingy and slimy mud. It is then shovelled into 
 barrels with pierced heads, and, having now traversed 
 the entire length of the ingenio, is removed to the casa 
 de purga. The floor of this building is composed of 
 narrow strips of plank, with openings between ; and 
 upon this the barrels are ranged, with their pierced 
 heads downward, and left to drain. The drainage falls 
 into an immense copper tank below, and constitutes 
 molasses. The sugar left in the barrels is of the quality 
 known as mascabado (frequently corrupted into musco- 
 vado), and forms the larger part of the imported sugar; 
 the refining thereof being a separate business, mostly 
 done in the United States. 
 
 However, in this i?ige?iio, about midway of the build- 
 
THE INGENIO. 219 
 
 ing, and connected with the engine by a band, is a 
 " centrifugal wheel," by means of which a better quality 
 of sugar is made. The rim of the wheel is a kind of 
 trough of perforated tin, into which a small quantity of 
 the thick, dark mass from the vats is shoveled, the 
 wheel is set in rapid motion, the centrifugal force throws 
 off the molasses through the perforations, and the resi- 
 duum is a dry and light-colored sugar, the best quality 
 known to Cuban commerce. Furthermore, the planters 
 make a small quantity of "clayed sugar," for home 
 consumption ; the unrefined mass being put into con^ 
 ical moulds of tin, with small apertures at their 
 apices, which are then inverted, covered with a soft paste 
 of clay and water, and left to drain. In time, the mass 
 becomes dry and solid ; and when removed from the 
 mould, its base is quite white, a little higher it is of a 
 pale yellow, and the tint deepens gradually to the apex, 
 where it is almost brown. 
 
 But the mere mechanical process of sugar-making is 
 by far the least interesting part of the scene which meets 
 the eyes of a stranger, first ushered into an ingenio. 
 There is a look of hard, steady, energetic industry about 
 it, which he sees nowhere else in the island ; and which 
 seems wholly incongruous with the soft, languid reaches 
 of tropical sky and landscape that smile upon him through 
 the unenclosed sides of the building. Apart from this, 
 however, there is a sombre, phantasmagoric character 
 about the spectacle which will persuade him, for the 
 moment, that he has somehow strayed into Pluto's own 
 palace, wreathed in sulphurous vapor. There is an un- 
 
220 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 couth and demoniac appearance about the negro and 
 coolie workmen — naked above the waist, and with no su- 
 perfluous garments beneath it — as seen in the red glare 
 of furnaces, or through misty clouds of steam from 
 the hissing caldrons, that seems suited to no other local- 
 ity. Add to this the hoarse, startling cries of the cal- 
 dron tenders to the stokers, — " A-b'la ! a-b'la ! " " E-cha 
 can-de-la I e-cha ! " " Puer-ta ! " — the mournful, minor 
 chant of the workers at the carts and rollers, the crunch 
 of the cane, the creak of chains, the whirling wheels 
 and bands, and you will not wonder at the illusion. 
 
 I was directed to notice the engineer's apartment, 
 hanging like a bird-cage from the roof, and reached by 
 a ladder-like staircase. The engineer was a tall, power- 
 ful, sandy-haired, shrewd-faced native of ISTev Hamp- 
 shire, seated cross-legged on the frame-work of his 
 engine, poring over a dilapidated copy of a home news- 
 paper. He seemed glad to see a countrywoman, and 
 did what he could for her entertainment. Seeing me 
 look earnestly at a ponderous chain which was con^ 
 nected with the rollers, and had a grim look of unrelent- 
 ing Fate about it, he began to tell me how an old slave- 
 woman was once drawn into its cruel embrace, " kicking 
 and yelling, and before I could stoj) the engine, her legs 
 were torn clean off her body, and — " but here I broke 
 in upon the horrible narrative with an energetic request 
 that it might be left unfinished. The thing which sick- 
 ened me most was the cool hardihood, verging upon joc- 
 ularity, with which he treated the affair. But then, it 
 was only a " negra" and too old to be of much value. 
 
THE INGENIO. 221 
 
 I asked some questions relative to the comparative 
 efficiency of slave and coolie labor. " Wall I" said my 
 compatriot, scratching his head reflectively, " the coolies 
 do know a leetle the most, — but they are apt to be 
 cross-grained, ugly chaps (to be sure, it's no wonder, 
 considerin' how they're treated) ; and then they don't 
 mind up and killing themselves, when they git mad, any 
 more'n I do paring my nails. I'd rather have ten niggers 
 to manage, than one Chinaman, by a long chalk ! " 
 
 " Do you have much to do with the management of 
 the hands ?" 
 
 "Urn! — no, not much, — that's the mayoraVs busi- 
 ness. But I call for what help I want about the engine, 
 and I don't allow any meddling with my hands. And 
 they know I don't stand no sass nor shirking." 
 
 " But you do not carry any weapons, nor whip." 
 
 " Wall ! I guess not. But I generally carry my fists 
 about me, and they do pooty well. I leave pistols and 
 such like to the mayoral" 
 
 Said mayoral being a short, dark, broad-chested 
 Spaniard, with a face like a smouldering furnace, and an 
 eye that had a perpetual threat in it. He was girded 
 with a sword, and had a brace of pistols in his belt. 
 Little mercy would any mutinous coolie get at his 
 hands ! 
 
 During my stay at Santa Sofia, the sugar-house exert- 
 ed a curious fascination over me, and whenever other 
 sources of amusement failed, I was sure to be drawn 
 thither, and to be found hanging over the rollers, watch- 
 ing the cane slowly tending toward its hard fate, and 
 
222 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 listening to the wild chant of the Africans there at 
 work ; or inhaling the faint, sweet vapor from the cal- 
 drons, or seated silently by the centrifugal wheel, har- 
 vesting the abundant crop of analogies growing out of 
 all. It was impossible not to notice, for example, how 
 the cane became the agent of its own destruction, — how 
 the bruised mass from the rollers was made the instru- 
 ment of drawing in a continual succession of fresh, sweet 
 cane, to be likewise crushed, mangled, and cast out, fit 
 only for burning, — a thing which has its mournful coun- 
 terparts in the social world. The negroes grew, after a 
 time, to signalize my comings and goings with a smile, 
 and were assiduous in doing me small services ; but I do 
 not remember that I ever elicited the slightest mark of in- 
 terest or attention from a Chinese. These men appeared 
 to be in a state of chronic sullenness ; they persistently 
 avoided meeting my eye, and emulated the hardness, 
 inflexibility, and soullessness of the implements with 
 which they labored. As they feel the weight and shame 
 of bondage more than the negroes, it is a comfort to 
 think that they can look forward to a day of emancipa- 
 tion ; for the coolies are bound for a term of eight years 
 only, during which time their servitude is severe enough, 
 but at the end of which, they are their own masters. It 
 is also a comfort to know that their propensity to sui- 
 cide operates as some check upon the worst forms of 
 cruelty, — one so often has to be glad, in this world, of 
 things which, in happier circumstances, were fitter sub- 
 jects for tears. 
 
 I observed no absolute cruelty in the treatment of 
 
THE INGENIO. 223 
 
 the hands, but the whole system of sugar-making is one 
 of hard, steady, relentless driving, based upon a nice cal- 
 culation of the utmost that can be gotten out of human 
 flesh and bones, without immediate exhaustion, deteriora- 
 tion, and consequent loss. One cannot behold it without 
 a sorrowful pity for lives that must run such a round of 
 toilsome motion, yet accomplish no genuine progress. 
 During the grinding season of four months, the engine 
 rests not, night nor day, nor Sunday ; the procession of 
 sugar-cane stops not ; the furnaces are always red, and 
 the caldrons ever boiling, bubbling, and emitting dense 
 clouds of vapor. The women work in the fields, and at 
 the carts and rollers, but not at the engine, furnaces, or 
 caldrons. 
 
 At dusk the large plantation bell rings the Oration, 
 which in times of greater religious strictness, was the 
 signal for a prayer to be said, in house or a-field, but is 
 now merely used to call in the field-hands. The mayor- 
 domo, whose office resembles that of a purser, now makes 
 the daily distribution of provisions, — generally consist- 
 ing of jerked beef, rice, and plaintains, or bananas, — and 
 the negroes then file into quarters. At another time we 
 will visit them there. 
 
 We return to the piazza, to watch the twilight dusk 
 steal over the fair, tropical landscape. The little enclo- 
 sure in front is filled with rare and brilliant flowers, and 
 the receda, or tree-mignonette, growing twenty or thirty 
 feet high, sends forth its richest odor. The sunset-hues 
 deepen in the west, they swim and flash and fade in ex- 
 quisite, tender tints, and a golden gloom begins the night. 
 
224 31 Y WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 And wondrously fair is the evening picture in this 
 delicious climate! The large, tropical moon fills it with 
 charmed light, the lustrous leaves of the palms soften it 
 with trembling shadows. The long, level reaches of the 
 cane stir lightly, but soundlessly, under the stealing 
 steps of light-footed zephyrs ; the huge canopy of 
 the ceiba hangs motionless in the starry arch of the 
 sky ; the purple, distant hills, and the dusky-browed 
 forest, dream soft in the moon-tranced air. Dona 
 Angela brings out some poems of Espronceda's — Spain's 
 last and sweetest singer — and the soft modulations of 
 her tender voice, and the liquid ripple of the Spanish 
 vowels, flow out harmoniously over the scene, with 
 frequent lapses into silence, which are sweeter than any 
 sound. For, whether at noon or night, silence seems 
 most natural to the tropics. They pant and flush with 
 feeling, but it is inarticulate. The landscape is always a 
 poem, but it is seen and felt only, never heard. Bright- 
 plumaged birds swing in the verdant gloom of the palm 
 boughs, but they have no song, only a cry. Yet sweeter 
 and sadder is it than the song of any nightingale, heart- 
 breaking in its sharp pain of helplessness and longing ! 
 Suddenly, a monotonous, minor-keyed murmur of 
 African song rose from the negro-quarters, — first, a high, 
 shrill recitative, and then a wild chorus, sung in unison; 
 both words and music being clearly the product of a 
 race just a little higher than the brutes. If the pathetic, 
 pleading look of a dog's face could be expressed in 
 music, it would sound just so. Yet the strain was sad 
 to me only, — the singers broke into shouts of laughter 
 
THE INGENIO. 225 
 
 and clapping of hands ! And that touched me most of 
 all; — there is something inexpressibly mournful about 
 the mirth of an enslaved and degraded race. Its very 
 boisterousness and utter abandonment show how great 
 is the reaction from fiie heavy pressure of forced toil 
 and weary pain. 
 
 With the evening, the cocullus gleamed out over the 
 cane-fields, like a new creation of terrestrial stars. Yet, 
 beautiful as they were in the distance, and despite the 
 reassuring memory of my two caged pets in Matanzas, I 
 could scarcely repress a thrill of terror when I first be- 
 held the great, fiery eyes and flaming breastplate coming 
 toward me, straight and swift, through the darkness, and 
 only turning aside within two or three inches of my face. 
 It was hard to believe that so much blaze would not burn, 
 or that it could emanate from a creature of less size than 
 a bat. The cocullus are easily caught by placing a live 
 coal or two in the grass, and throwing a handkerchief 
 over them as they approach what they mistake for a 
 friendly signal. The little Cito brought me one thus 
 ensnared ; and told me gravely that it was " uno de los 
 serenos de los insectos" (one of the watchmen of the 
 insects). Those who recall the description of the lan- 
 tern-bearing serenos of Havana, in a former chapter, 
 will recognize the appropriateness of the name. 
 
 At bedtime, I was shown to an apartment more 
 spacious than it was ever my fortune to occupy, except 
 once, when, in a crowded Southern hotel, the ball-room 
 was assigned me as a dormitory! Yet I think that 
 might have been put inside of this, and still have left 
 10* 
 
226 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 sufficient margin for a chain of contra-dances. The few 
 pieces of furniture were quite lost in its vastness, and 
 a single candle made but feeble encroachments upon its 
 heavy masses of shadow. In one corner was a bed, in 
 nicest order and daintiest array, but of the most immiti- 
 gable Cuban variety — a wonderful invention for keeping 
 foreigners awake. Through the broad, iron-grated win- 
 dow opposite, I could look straight into the sugar- 
 house, with its vapor-charged atmosphere, its lurid 
 glow, its seething caldrons, its half-naked wretches of 
 attendants, its wild screeching and monotonous chant ; 
 and the Inferno of Dante, the Hell of Milton, and the 
 Witches' Cave of Macbeth, met and mingled wildly in 
 my dreams. Not till near dawn did I escape from these 
 into Slumber's undisputed land. 
 
CHAPTER XXHL 
 
 PLANTATION PICTURES. 
 
 A SUGAR plantation «is a little village within itself, 
 containing church, dwellings, hospital, workshops, 
 storehouses, water- works, and whatever is necessary to 
 its daily economy. That of Santa Sofia numbers about 
 four hundred souls, of whom not more than a dozen or 
 fifteen are contained in white skins; a disproportion 
 which seems to justify, in a measure, the firearms, whips, 
 chains, locks, gratings, etc., which are so prominent a 
 part of its system. How justly these fifteen have ac- 
 quired the right to dominate over the three hundred and 
 seventy-five, is a question for moralists ; but while they 
 exercise it, it behooves them to take measures for their 
 personal safety. The negroes are said to be, in gross, 
 coarse and brutal, the Chinese sly and cruel ; if it were 
 not for those same locks, pistols, and other safeguards, 
 I car^ we H understand that my first night at Santa Sofia 
 might have been memorable for worse horrors than the 
 lurid phantasmagoria of my dreams. 
 
 Day broke over the plantation as freshly fair as if 
 whips and slave gangs and wearisome toil were also but 
 visions of the night ; — and other days followed, full of 
 mellow sunshine and a subtle sweetness of luminous air, 
 
228 MY WINTER iTV CUBA, 
 
 wherein to bask and breathe was quite enough for happi- 
 ness. A half-dozen of such days, in our climate, are counted 
 sufficient atonement for the atmospheric delinquencies of 
 a whole season ; here, they were the rule — slowly ripen- 
 ing from golden morn to fervid noon, and thencefor- 
 ward growing ever sweeter and sweeter, until they 
 departed through a gorgeous sunset arch, crowned with 
 gladness, and leaving on the mind a beatific impression 
 of rare concords of lustrous ^ color, and calm floods of 
 iridescent light, but no distinct record of individuality. 
 Possibly their very eventlessness was their subtlest 
 charm ; in such an air, at such a temperature, the mind 
 craved neither the excitement of stirring events, nor the 
 labor of thought — only the calm enjoyment of observa- 
 tion, and the soft play of fancy. Sufficient unto each 
 day was the evil of that dark shadow of bondage and 
 forced labor, brooding over the cane-fields and under 
 the vast roof of the sugar-house; sufficient for its joy to 
 watch the slow-moving panorama of radiant dawns, and 
 prismatic sunsets, and moon-silvered eves, seen across a 
 billowy luxuriance of rustling cane, and through green 
 arches of great boughs of ceiba, palm, and tamarind. 
 
 On this pleasant background, the quiet incidents of 
 the dreamy, leisurely plantation-life were softly pen- 
 cilled ;— among them a few scenes stand out sharply in 
 my memory, as more brilliantly or sombrely tinted than 
 the rest, of which I give faint sketches. 
 
 First, the barracon, or negro-quarter. A quadrangu- 
 lar structure, whose exterior presents to view only a high 
 wall, without other, opening than a massive and sombre 
 
LANTATION PICTURES. 229 
 
 archway, closed by an iron gate. The mayoral turns 
 key, draws bolt, and ushers us into a large court, cov- 
 ered with a scanty growth of coarse, wiry grass. In the 
 middle is a stone fire-place and huge boiler, wherein 
 certain kinds of cookery are done, in the lump, for the 
 entire tenantry. Around us is a hollow square of two- 
 story dwellings, in as close contiguity as the cells of a 
 honeycomb ; the second floor being reached by means 
 of exterior galleries and staircases, and each room serv- 
 ing for home to a limited family. The place is wholly 
 deserted and silent ; the adult occupants are at work, 
 and the children are cared for elsewhere, during their 
 absence. We look into some of the rooms, and wonder 
 if life is worth living at such a scanty measure of com- 
 fort or attainment. There is a bed of rude plank with 
 a blanket on it, a stool or two, a few pots and pans, two 
 or three coarse garments hanging on the wall, occasion- 
 ally a little crucifix or an image of the Virgin, — and that 
 is all ! ISTo pleasantness within, no verdure without, no 
 breadth of scope, no wholesome retirement — merely a 
 place for eating and sleeping, where the slaves and 
 coolies are driven nightly, like sheep to a pen, and locked 
 in, until the morning's call to labor. Over the gateway 
 is the apartment of the mayoral, with the door in the 
 side of the arch, anterior to the gate, and a window 
 opening on the court. It has a grim provision of fire- 
 arms, and is evidently a small fortress, commanding the 
 whole interior, from which it would be easy to shoot 
 down the leaders in any disturbance, and reduce insur- 
 gents to terms. 
 
230 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 Secondly, the hospital. Its exterior and approach are 
 similar to those of the barracon. Entering the court, 
 we find forty or fifty naked negro children at play, who 
 undergo a sudden transformation into so many staring 
 ebony statues, at sight of strange visitors ; and are imme- 
 diately ordered off by Doiia Angela, with injunctions not 
 to reappear until they have found somewhat wherewith 
 to cover their nakedness. The gentlemen enter a good- 
 natured plea for the " negritos" (Anglice ; little niggers), 
 so summarily dismissed to retirement or the unwonted 
 thraldom of garments; but the mistress, scandalized by 
 their appearance — vicariously, I imagine — maintains that 
 it is " una cosa indecenta" and carries her point. One side 
 of the court is occupied by the nursery, where all the 
 babes of the plantation are gathered, in charge of girls 
 eight years old and upwards, overseen by two or three 
 superannuated negro women, too old to be of use else- 
 where. Some are wrapped in old shawls, or a bit of 
 ragged blanket, others are muffled in all sorts of non- 
 descript garments, and one small morsel of femininity 
 lies curled up on the floor, quite nude, but with a dingy 
 muslin cap on her tiny, woolly head, which gives her an 
 indescribably elfin and wizened aspect. They are all pre- 
 ternaturally quiet and docile, as I have found slave babies 
 to be everywhere. Is it that they come thus early to a 
 perception of their lot in life, or because they are not 
 indulged and pampered into ill-humor and exaction ? " 
 
 In an adjacent room, we found the small people just 
 banished from the court, all tangled and snarled together 
 in a rapid process of toilet-making, and a chaotic con- 
 
PLANTATION PICTURES. 231 
 
 fusion of ill-assorted and impromptu raiment. A few, 
 who were already dressed, came forward, and knelt 
 down around me, with crossed hands and bended heads, 
 waiting for something — what ? " Una benedicion, se- 
 fiora" said the kindly-eyed woman who was superintend- 
 ing their operations, seeing my perplexity. Somewhat 
 taken aback by so unusual a request, I yet managed to 
 give them the desired " blessing," according to the sweet 
 Spanish formula, " Dios os haga bueno ! " and went on 
 my way wondering. I learned, later, that it is an 
 African superstition that the benediction of a stranger, 
 from over the ocean, has a Divine efficacy to brighten 
 the future of the recipient, — a relic, doubtless, of those 
 remote times when all such visitors were welcomed as 
 messengers from the gods. But it needs more of that 
 faith which is potent to remove mountains than I possess, 
 to believe that any one's blessing can work much tem- 
 poral good to these outcasts of civilization, whose place 
 in the world is so vexing a problem. To be sure the 
 civil law of Cuba is kinder to the, slave than ever our 
 own was. It gives him his time on Sundays, to enable 
 him to work out his freedom, if he is so minded. It 
 obliges the master to sell any dissatisfied slave, who can 
 find another person willing to buy him ; his value being 
 fixed by a government official at the current market 
 price, rarely taking into account extraordinary capacity 
 or qualifications, so that a really good slave finds little 
 difficulty in changing owners. It does not prohibit him 
 the use of whatever educational advantages he can com- 
 mand; though it may readily be inferred that these are 
 
232 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 not many, among a people not over solicitous of such 
 privileges for themselves. But how is a plantation negro, 
 working all clay long under the eye and whip of a driver, 
 and locked into quarters at night, to bring these laws to 
 bear on his own case, however much it may need them ? 
 In the cities and towns, no doubt, they do something to 
 lighten the yoke. 
 
 The remainder of the building is the hospital proper, 
 divided into a dispensary, male and female wards, and 
 a lying-in room. The apartments were all large, and 
 lofty, even grand in their proportions, like almost every- 
 thing else on the estate. They were scrupulously clean 
 also, but their extreme barrenness, the absence of all 
 adornment, or of aught to stimulate thought or gratify 
 taste, made them undelightful enough. There was no 
 furniture whatever, except a row of beds on either side ; 
 and these were merely oblong forms of thick, heavy 
 plank, about the size and height of an ordinary cot. On 
 these lay the patients, in their usual working garments, 
 with a blanket over them if they liked. At first, it gave 
 me a shock to notice the comfortlessness of the whole ; 
 it seemed actual cruelty to put sick people on such beds — 
 tables, rather, where, I thought, the poor, worn-out body 
 might have been dissected as soon as the breath was out 
 of it, without any very harsh violation of the decencies 
 of the place. But I was self-convicted of unreasonable- 
 ness, after a little, since the idolized darling of the 
 wealthiest Cuban house is scarcely more luxuriously 
 lodged, — the degree of comfort between the side of a 
 plank and a piece of canvas stretched tightly over an 
 
PL A NT A TION PICTURES. 233 
 
 iron frame being much too nice to be appreciable to any- 
 one not born to it. 
 
 But the blank, stolid, utterly unilluminated faces on 
 those beds were pitiful to behold ! Perhaps the African 
 face, by reason of its coarse, heavy traits, and sombre 
 coloring, is always more profoundly and haggardly mel- 
 ancholy, in sickness, than any other; and here, that 
 expression seemed intensified by the meagreness and 
 unloveliness of the" surroundings. The patients scarcely 
 noticed me, as I paused to look at them ; though one or 
 two made a faint attempt at a smile, in response to some 
 kind words from the mistress of the estate. One was 
 already beyond the % reach of all sublunary interests; the 
 stupor of death was settling on her face, the fixed, glazed 
 eye might even now catch some bewildering glimpses of 
 the " glory that shall be revealed," even to this hapless, 
 benighted soul. I noted the fact with something very like 
 gladness ; the door of death seemed the only effectual 
 escape from a life of such hard and hopeless limitations. 
 What possible happiness or improvement was there in 
 store for any of these forlorn wretches, even if they 
 should manage to struggle through this present misery 
 of sickness? which, to do them justice, not one of them 
 seemed trying for. They had not found life so good or 
 glad as to be unwilling to give it up; they just lay 
 quietly on their hard couches, passive and uncomplain- 
 ing, and let God and their master do with them as they 
 would. There was neither light, nor hope, nor desire, 
 in their hard-lined faces, nothing but a flaccid and de- 
 jected helplessness, in lieu of resignation; as if they 
 
234 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 were conscious that they were born into the world for 
 this and nothing else, and blindly accepted their hard 
 lot, without being able to understand it. Even in the 
 little children, this characteristic seemed as perfectly 
 developed as in their elders, oppressing one with a sense 
 of something dolefully amiss and out-of-joint in all the 
 conditions of humanity. 
 
 Here and there, in strong contrast with these de- 
 pressed and nerveless Africans, a Chinese glowered like 
 a spark of fire amid gray ashes ; his usual expression of 
 sullen insubordination being sharpened by the pressure 
 of physical suffering. One of these sat on the edge of 
 his bed, with a swollen and bandaged limb drawn up 
 beside him — the very incarnation of impotent hate and 
 rage. The mayoral laid a firm, detaining grasp on his 
 shoulder, under which I could see the man wince and 
 shiver, while the official told me how he had run away 
 weeks ago, and hidden in the woods, leading a sort of 
 highwayman's life, and baffling all pursuit, until he cut 
 his foot badly on a sharp stone, in jumping a stream; 
 which wound festered and gangrened, and so disabled 
 him that he could no longer procure food, nor drag his 
 wasted body from one hiding-place to another ; when he 
 was found — half-dead, but still untamed in spirit — and 
 brought back to prison. Since which time, he had twice 
 attempted suicide. The Chinese meanwhile regarded 
 us with a look that would have stabbed us both to the 
 heart, if looks were available for such a purpose. Plainly, 
 he felt himself at war with the whole tyrannous universe ; 
 and especially resented the indignity of being exhibited 
 and commented upon as if he had been a wild beast. 
 
PLANT A TION PICTURES. 235 
 
 From a region so suggestive of miserable doubt and 
 questioning of Providence as this, it was good to turn 
 aside into the lying-in* room, and see how the goodness 
 of God was vindicated, even here, to our low, human 
 apprehension. Something of that same pride and joy 
 of motherhood, which makes such a light in happier 
 places, was here visible also, helping these poor women 
 through their sufferings, and shining in the faces of 
 those whose babes were held up to view, and j>atted, and 
 praised — babyhood being a wonderful and beautiful 
 thing everywhere ! Nor did this joy appear to be 
 clouded by any misgivings about the future of these 
 small slips of humanity, set to grow in so unkindly a 
 soil. In the sick wards I had found myself uncomfort- 
 ably face to face with the great problem of life — the 
 presence of sin and misery in the creation of an all-wise 
 and beneficent God, — here, I seemed to have gone a long 
 way toward its solution. Out of the deepest pain is 
 born the extremest pleasure ; and the suffering and sor- 
 row of this present time are often but the birth-throes 
 of a joy "unspeakable and full of glory," that shall 
 be brought forth hereafter unto all who love God. 
 
 The little chapel next claims our attention, a plain, 
 brown-stuccoed edifice, where occasional services are 
 held by the priests of the neighboring village, and 
 whose square tower is rather a pretty object, rising 
 above the red roofs of the adjacent buildings. Its 
 interior is still gay with the decorations for a 
 recent festival; artificial flowers are wreathed and 
 grouped everywhere, both flowers and arrangement 
 
236 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 being due to the pretty and skilful fingers of the senori- 
 tas Engracia, Josifa, and Conchita. In the little sacristy- 
 are the priestly vestments, elaborately embroidered by 
 the same agile fingers. Dofia Carlota unfolds and 
 exhibits them, — the green for common use, the red for 
 the " Corpus Christi," the white for Christmas, Easter, 
 weddings, and christenings. Last of all, the black for 
 funerals. 
 
 " I thank God," says the sefiora, solemnly, and with 
 a slight tremor in her voice, " there has never yet been 
 any need of these ; but we have them ready, you see, 
 and none can tell how soon they may be wanted." 
 
 She is thinking, doubtless, that, in virtue of ill-health 
 and advanced age, she has a right to expect to need 
 them first, but I read differeutly the oracles of the 
 future. The youngest child of the house has one of 
 those sweet, rapt, far-seeing faces, never long vouchsafed 
 to any home, save as a # tender and beatific memory, 
 linking the trials of earth with the promises of heaven. 
 
 A steep staircase leads to the little, square tower-top. 
 The view from thence is extensive but monotonous, — 
 almost any New England landscape would present a 
 more striking and varied outline ; yet there is a tropical 
 character about it that makes it richly worth observing. 
 Over all the outer circle — beyond an immediate prox- 
 imity of rippling reaches of cane, and soft shades of 
 palm, mimosa, and bamboo — are bright, bold billows of 
 foliage, tossed aloft from remote forests; and on one 
 side the blue, flowing outline of distant hills. In truth, 
 if there were nothing else to look at, palms and bam- 
 
PL ANT A TIOK PICTURES. 237 
 
 boos alone might well satisfy one's thirst for natural 
 beauty. 
 
 Directly behind the house is a large enclosure devoted 
 to vegetables and fruits. Thither, at sunset-time, I 
 prevail upon Engracia to accompany me. She hesitates 
 at first, to be sure, and tells me that she never goes 
 there, the servants will bring me whatever I want ; but 
 upon being assured that I desire neither fruits nor vege- 
 tables, but only to observe their peculiarities of culture 
 and growth, many of them being known to me hitherto 
 merely as things of bales and bags and boxes, and gro- 
 cers'' counters, she consents, — albeit, not without a cer- 
 tain reluctance, which I set down to Cuban indolence, 
 and pitilessly ignore. 
 
 Nearest the house are the vegetable beds, kept 
 orderly enough, but with too strong a likeness to kitchen 
 gardens everywhere, to be deeply interesting. The only 
 unfamiliar forms are the name, a species of yam, grow- 
 ing to an enormous size ; and the malanga and ceizabe, 
 both farinaceous roots, from the latter of which tapioca 
 is made. Next, come stiff battalions of pine-apples, in 
 various stages of maturity ; and after them, a large 
 melon-patch covered with a thick tangle of luxuriant 
 vines, among the leaves of which great green and russet 
 rounds are industriously secreting sweets from the 
 tropical sunbeams. To these succeeds a small forest of 
 banana-trees, with their long, fragile leaves gently sway- 
 ing in the evening breeze, their purple buds nestling close 
 to the parent stalk, and their heavy clusters of green 
 and ripe fruit, here called memos (hands), of which each 
 
238 MY WINTER IN CUBA, 
 
 banana is a " finger." We next plunge into a grove of 
 orange trees, alike fragrant with dark green foliage, 
 bridal blossoms, and golden fruit ; and we finally lose 
 ourselves in a kind of orchard wilderness, for which Art 
 has done what she could, and then handed it over to 
 Nature, for a finishing touch of wildness and grace. 
 Here, the chestnut-like mango, with its pear-shaped fruit 
 and dense foliage, stands side by side with the dark- 
 leaved and gray-fruited mamey ; the elm-like aguacate, 
 and the drooping tamarind lean and whisper together ; 
 the sapota mingles its fruit of brown with the green 
 and yellow balls of the calabazo ; the bright scarlet of 
 the pomegranate's blossoms touches the delicate pink of 
 those of the almond ; and the bindweed and the love- 
 vine marry them all together, and wreathe their topmost 
 boughs with graceful coronals of leaves and filaments. 
 Here and there, a tall palm has joined itself to the 
 pleasant company, a magnolia has also found room for 
 its smooth trunk and shining leaves, and a group of 
 young . acacias have stolen into an unguarded corner. 
 The whole scene glows with brilliant coloring; — the 
 sky is roseate ; the leaves above and around are red- 
 dened by the sunset beams ; the crimson and scarlet, 
 the orange and gold, of the fruits and blossoms are like 
 flame ; even the earth is red, where it shows through 
 the undergrowth. The autumnal glories of New Eng- 
 land are not brighter. And there, perchance, we touch 
 upon the the secret of the sadness always latent in the 
 tropical landscape. Perfection of any kind, in this world, 
 is near its opposite ; and amid the abounding life of the 
 
PLANTATION PICTURES. 239 
 
 tropics there is continual decay. Perpetual summer im- 
 plies perpetual autumn : some plants must needs be ever 
 dying, some trees shedding their foliage. In many cases, 
 the new growth pushes off the old, and under the boughs 
 that are at once thick-clad with verdure, white with blos- 
 soms, and golden with fruit, one hears beneath his tread 
 the rustle of fallen leaves. 
 
 The boundary wall of the enclosure is covered with 
 mosses and creeping things. A wild convolvulus and 
 passion-vine have so tangled themselves together that 
 no mortal hand can separate them ; and a night-bloom- 
 ing cereus has climbed to the topmost stone, to look out 
 over the adjacent fields at the sunset, or at the negroes 
 and coolies cutting cane by the latest beams. The 
 nearest of these — a gigantic African — no sooner spies us 
 than he breaks out into a strain of fulsome compliment, 
 — " Dios mio I what beauty ! Santa Maria ! what 
 grace ! Ay ! what pretty little feet ! Ay ! what beau- 
 tiful little hands ! " and so on, ad nauseam, and not 
 without a vicious leer. If I open my eyes only a trifle 
 wider at the creature's impudence, it is because I have 
 learned that the most courteous Don of the district 
 would probably do the very same thing in similar circum- 
 stances ; and I really do not see that it is worse in the 
 slave than in the master. But I am amazed, when I dis- 
 cover that this flowery discourse has sent Engracia fly- 
 ing toward the house like a startled deer. Her white 
 dress is already disappearing among the trunks of 
 the trees; and nothing remains but for me to follow 
 more slowly, reflecting upon the anomalies of a system 
 
240 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 under which the daughter of the house flees in terror 
 from the sight of one of its dependents. Halfway to 
 the mansion, I meet a servant sent after me in hot 
 haste ; ' and on the piazza I find Engracia trembling 
 with fear, and recounting our adventure to her excited 
 sisters. It is my first and last independent ramble in 
 Cuba. 
 
 An invitation to dine at the neighboring plantation 
 of San Benito, adds some queer, crowded pictures of 
 the Flemish school to our gallery. First, there is the 
 transit thither, — a complete melee of volantes, saddle- 
 horses, mules, negroes, and dogs, fifteen or twenty in 
 all, tearing across the cane-fields, or through the grand 
 palm-avenues, in the amber glory of the late afternoon, 
 at a rate and with an amount of noise that would have 
 befitted well a fox-chase. The v olantes have each three 
 horses, — a prodigality of motive power only to be seen 
 in the rural districts, and apparently subserving no end 
 but that of picturesqueness, since the extra horse occu- 
 pies himself mainly in tumbling into ditches, entangling 
 himself in wayside shrubbery, and jerking and jostling 
 the shaft-horse; which latter endures the infliction with 
 the stoicism appropriate to the inevitable. The ladies 
 wear no shawls nor bonnets, only fluttering scarfs and 
 ribbons, that vie with the tropical landscape in color. 
 The road is everywhere beautiful, and often picturesque ; 
 on either side are the billowy canefields, while the palms, 
 of which one never tires, meet above our heads, and 
 stretch away before us in long, temple-like vistas. Cross- 
 ing a bridge, we are wrapped, for a moment, in a thicket 
 
PLANTATION PICTURES. 241 
 
 of willow-like bamboos. Reaching the top of a slight 
 eminence, we discover afar the rolling outline of purple 
 hills. Parsing along the edge of a forest, we are" 
 charmed with the exuberance and diversity of its flow- 
 ery undergrowth, — the pink, white, and purple convol- 
 vuli, the flaming fever-flower, the sunny-eyed and sweet- 
 breathed jessamine, the many varieties of the wild 
 passion-vine, the white-chaliced mangrove, the richly 
 perfumed heliotrope, and divers others, which I do not 
 recognize individually, but all of which help to fill me 
 with a vague sense of inexhaustible beauty and abound- 
 ing fragrance. And never was there sunshine so rich, 
 so soft, and so dream-like, as that through which gallops 
 our straggling party, waking the drowsy echoes with 
 noisy clatter of volantes and hoofs, shrill chorus of talk 
 and laughter, chattering of negroes and barking of dogs. 
 The dining-room of San Benito is entirely open, on 
 one side, to the court, at the farther end of which 
 are grouped, not unpicturesquely, our own servants 
 and horses. The guests at table number twenty-two, 
 — not including the dogs underneath the board, nor 
 the parrots, pigeons, and chickens, that hover above 
 "and around, to pick up the crumbs. Neither do I take 
 into the account a small army of cadaverous, squealing 
 pigs, nor a scorpion that suddenly appears on a rough 
 rafter, over Conchita's head, and is despatched with 
 some difficulty by the joint" forces of three of the gen- 
 tlemen, two of the servants, a cane, a riding-whip, an 
 umbrella, and two brooms, in the midst of general con- 
 fusion and dismay. However, this little digression 
 11 
 
242 jrr winter in cuba. 
 
 only serves to stimulate conversation ; everybody talks, 
 laughs, expletizes, and gesticulates, at the same moment, 
 only screaming louder as the chorus swells higher, — the 
 pigeons and chickens taking their full shares in the talk, 
 and the parrots adding their shrill laughter to the merri- 
 ment. Notwithstanding these oddities, the dinner is 
 served with a sufficient amount of Cuban state and cere- 
 mony. There is a deal of cut-glass and silver plate; 
 the courses are many, the viands excellent, the attend- 
 ance adequate. I sit at the right of our host ; and never 
 was the English language so broken into inch pieces, so 
 deftly cemented together again with pantomimic gesture, 
 and so artfully twisted into elaborate compliment, as by 
 that dark, smiling, low-voiced, and gray-haired Don 
 Diego. A dinner whereat he presides must needs have a 
 stronger flavor of the court than of the country, des- 
 pite pigs, parrots, chickens, and scorpions. 
 
 The feast being ended, there is an almost unanimous 
 withdrawal to the broad, airy piazza. The two elder 
 gentlemen, only, remain behind with their cigars ; the 
 younger ones composedly light theirs outside. The 
 practice of smoking is so universal in Cuba, it is consid- 
 ered so much a matter of course, that ladies are seldom 
 asked if it is disagreeable to them, — never, except as 
 the merest formality, the reply being taken for granted. 
 I am not a little surprised, therefore, when Don Diego 
 joins our party, to see his son Casimiro remove his 
 cigar from his mouth, and, holding it on the side remote 
 from the elder gentleman, quietly slip away to the far- 
 ther end of the piazza to finish it. I am so struck by 
 
PLANTATION PICTURES. 243 
 
 the oddity of the circumstance, that I venture to ask 
 Engracia, in an aside, what it means. She replies that 
 it is an act of disrespect for a son to smoke in the pres- 
 ence of his parents. 
 
 " Why ? " I ask, with pardonable obtuseness, seeing 
 that the parents all smoke, to a man (and sometimes to a 
 woman), and cannot well help knowing that their sons 
 unhesitatingly follow their example 
 
 " Es un vicio, V. sabe!" (It is a vice, you know), she 
 answers, with a little grimace, and a most expressive 
 shrug of the shoulders. 
 
 The evening lets us into the mysteries of Cuban 
 courtship, — if there can be said to be any mystery about 
 a thing which must needs be carried on so openly. In 
 one corner of the sala, the eldest son of the house is 
 pouring soft whispers into the willing ear of his cousin 
 Caterina, who is formally betrothed to him ; at one end 
 of the double row of chairs, the second son is doing the 
 very same thing to the beautiful Conchita, of Santa 
 Sofia ; farther on, the third, a round, stolid, good-natured 
 youth of nineteen, is by the side of his fair fiancee of 
 twenty-two, who is also his mother's sister, and conse- 
 quently his aunt y and the younger members of both 
 households are likewise arranged in cooing pairs ; all of 
 which goes to show that love is early fledged in Cuba, 
 and often flies in strange directions. 
 
 Into this soft concert of wooing somebody sends a 
 proposition for jx dance. Josifa goes to the piano, the 
 party quickly resolves itself into couples (where it is not 
 already done), and begins the slow, dreamy, circling 
 
244 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 measures of the favorite contra-danza. Old and young 
 join, even to the grandmother ; and round and round 
 they go, solemn, stately, and deliberate, as the planets 
 in their courses, — now and then facing each other for a 
 right and left, and then going round and round again, — 
 till one's brain reels with the sight, and the chairs and 
 tables, the pictures and the lights, seem to be going 
 round and round, too. There is no doubt at all about 
 the negroes in the court, — their low laughter and the 
 rhythm of their feet, as they whirl and stamp to the 
 sound of the music, are plainly to be heard ; and very 
 likely I might see the pigs and the chickens, the parrots 
 and the pigeons, amicably revolving and balancing in 
 company, if I were not too sleepy to look out. For it 
 is getting fearfully late; that slow, dreamy, tireless 
 dance was certainly meant for eternity rather than time, 
 — people who have only an earthly afternoon or even- 
 ing before them ought never to engage in it. However, 
 it is finally brought to an end, the volantes and saddle- 
 horses are ordered round, there is a pleasant tangle of 
 kissing and leave-taking on the piazza, a rapid mount- 
 ing of seats and saddles, a clear-toned " Vamos ! " from 
 Don Gervasio, and we are en route for Santa Sofia. 
 
 I came in a volante, but I return on horseback, hav- 
 ing exchanged places with Josifa, for reasons of no value 
 to anybody but the owner. It is my first trial of a 
 Cuban saddle, but having been early accustomed to ride 
 on any saddle — or none, at a pinch — it gives me no 
 trouble. Especially, as my pony's gait is scarcely less 
 light, stealthy, and swift, than that of a phantom-horse. 
 
PLANTATION PICTURES. 245 
 
 It stirs me not in the saddle, it makes a seeming dead 
 level of all the ruts and roughnesses of the road, — I 
 might cany a brimming cup in my hand, and spill no 
 drop of its contents. Our way is a combination of 
 tropical light, warmth, stillness, and fragrance, too de- 
 lectable to be fully enjoyed otherwise than slowly and 
 •silently, drop by drop ; so Juan and I quietly fall into 
 die rear, and let the noise and confusion of our miscella- 
 neous party gradually die away in the forward distance. 
 The moonlight (have I ever before mentioned Cuban 
 moonlight ?) is like a spell of enchantment ; it seems to 
 set the scene entirely apart from the every-day world. 
 It glorifies the palm-groups with a grace too fair for 
 aught but the banks of the River of Life ; it transfigures 
 the canefields into a shining sea of glass ; it makes of 
 the forest an enchanted ground of rippling lights and 
 tremulous shadows; it breathes through the long, arched, 
 and columned vistas of the grand old palm avenues the 
 very spirit of consecration. The air is full of the incense 
 of unseen flowers, — unseen, save where the light finger 
 of a moonbeam touches some white or yellow chalice 
 into unearthly beauty and delicacy. "We recognize the 
 mangrove, the jessamine, the lime, the heliotrope, and 
 the wild grapevine, by their fragrant breath ; and we are 
 caught and held entranced by the odorous blossoms of a 
 bitter orange-tree, that lean far over the road and touch 
 our cheeks with their dewy lips. 
 
 Suddenly, a song, faint but lusciously sweet, rises 
 from a remote thicket. Spellbound we listen, as it 
 slowly draws near, — swelling higher and higher, till the 
 
246 MY WINTER IN CUBA, 
 
 boughs overhead seem possessed with the very soul of 
 melody, as well as of fragrance, — and breaks off abruptly, 
 at last, as if the singer might have been startled by the 
 sight of our statuesque figures. 
 
 " What is it ? " I ask Juan, drawing a long breath. 
 
 " It is a nightingale," he answers, absently. 
 
 Is he dreaming of the orange groves of Andalusia? 
 or are there nightingales in Cuba? But I will not 
 break the silence by a sound. Be it a nightingale for- 
 evermore I 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 FIRE IN THE CANE ! 
 
 T3UT the latter days of my stay at Santa Sofia were 
 to be made memorable by more stirring pictures. 
 We were sitting on the piazza, one morning — Dona 
 Angela, Engracia, and I — when I noticed a light, fleecy 
 cloud rising slowly over the fruit gardens in the rear; 
 which gradually increased in volume, and deepened in 
 color, until a faint odor of smoke began to pervade the 
 atmosphere. Then my companions suddenly started up 
 with alarmed faces, and rapid exclamations and ques- 
 tions. Presently, an unusual stir and excitement be- 
 came apparent in the sugar-house — the engineer, and 
 others came out and stood in knots, discussing the 
 smoke and its possibilities. Don Julio quickly joined 
 them, and messengers were sent forth in hot haste. 
 There was a short interval of seething suspense and 
 expectation ; and then a panic-stricken negro came flying 
 up the road, calling out breathlessly those words most 
 appalling to a planter's ears, " El fuego en la carta!" 
 (Fire in the cane !) The adjacent plantation, La Bel- 
 lorita, was on fire ! 
 
 Then ensued a scene of such terror and confusion as 
 seemed to me quite disproportioned to the occasion. 
 
248 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 The sefioritas wept and wrung their hands, Doiia Angela 
 gathered her three children in her arms and held them 
 tight, with an expression that seemed to say that no fire 
 should break through that loving barrier, and the elder 
 lady strove vainly to control her trembling hands and 
 quivering lips. I knew, of course, that destruction of 
 the cane meant pecuniary loss to the planter, but I did 
 not then know that these fires frequently swallow up 
 dwellings, negro-quarters, sugar-houses, cattle, and even 
 human life, in their progress, leaving nothing behind 
 but a black, smoking desolation. 
 
 Don Julio mounts his horse and rides off to the 
 scene of the conflagration, to offer his assistance to his 
 suffering friend. The field-hands are called in, formed 
 into gangs, under drivers, and sent off after him. Later 
 in the day, the engine is stopped, for the first and only 
 time in the season, and all the resources of the estate 
 are strained to the utmost to meet and conquer the ter- 
 rible foe. Meanwhile, the black cloud of smoke spreads 
 and rises, hanging a veil over the face of the sun, which 
 shoots through it only feeble, yellowish rays ; and we 
 women watch and wait, under the constant excitement 
 of bulletins from the fire. Now it spreads — now it is 
 stayed — now it breaks from all control and marches 
 triumphantly over the estate, burning carts and oxen 
 where they stand, and driving the frightened negroes 
 before it ! Now it has reached the sugar-house, and 
 machinery, furnaces, and boilers, are wrapped in a sheet 
 of wrathful flame ! Now it attacks the barracon, and 
 the poor homes and possessions of the negroes are quickly 
 
FIRE IN THE CANE. 249 
 
 laid in ashes ! Now, the patients are brought out of the 
 hospital, and that becomes a savory morsel for the tooth 
 of the destroyer. Must the mansion burn, too ? For a 
 time, its fate trembles in the balance. Fortunately there 
 was but little shade or verdure around it, and that little 
 was cut down and borne off in the first alarm ; more- 
 over, it is girdled with a host of negroes and coolies, 
 armed with bushes, blankets, buckets of water, and 
 whatever may arrest the flames, — and so, it escapes ! 
 
 But the fire is spreading rapidly in the direction of 
 Santa Sofia, and Don Julio finds that, in order to save 
 one part of his plantation, he must sacrifice another. 
 Several acres of cane are quickly isolated from the rest, 
 by clearing a broad belt all around them, and the torch 
 is set to the doomed fields. Slowly, light wreaths of 
 smoke curl upward, and spread and darken, red tongues 
 of fire fork and flare among them ; then a black, dense 
 cloud sweeps grandly over the field, with lurid banners 
 of flame in the midst, and a sound like the surging of 
 a stormy sea. It rushes, red and angry, toward the 
 advancing fire beyond — the columns of smoke meet and 
 mingle — the flames grapple each other with a fierce, ex- 
 ultant roar — they rise, and fall, and leap, and wrestle 
 together — they wreathe and twist, and flash and flare, 
 in the death-struggle — they rise again, and quiver, and 
 flicker, and fall to rise no more. On this side, the fire 
 is arrested, and Santa Sofia is saved ! 
 
 But on*our neighbor's ground, the fight still goes 
 on, and not until evening does Don Julio ride back to 
 say that all is over. Then the negroes come slowly and 
 11* 
 
250 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 wearily homeward, — a forlorn, haggard, begrimed, ut- 
 terly exhausted company, with some burned limbs and 
 blistered faces among them. These are ordered to the 
 hospital, and the rest are locked into quarters, with an 
 intimation that two or three days of entire rest will be 
 given them before they are remanded to labor — which 
 brings a little light into their stolid faces. Some of the 
 least exhausted of them, however, after a brief season 
 of rest and refreshment, must needs be detailed as a 
 night-watch, under the supervision of the contra-may- 
 orales; for sparks are still rising from the late scene of 
 conflagration, and may be wafted into neighboring cane- 
 fields. 
 
 Sweet, after this exciting day, is the serenity of the 
 tropical night, with its coronet of stars, its mellow efful- 
 gence of moonlight, its breath of coolness and balm. We 
 draw together on the piazza, and rehearse the incidents of 
 the fire, discovering new touches of the comic or the pa- 
 thetic ; or we discuss its origin, wondering whether the 
 incendiary spark fell from the furtive cigar of a slave, 
 transgressing the order not to smoke in the cane, or was 
 flung abroad by the railway engine this morning, as it 
 steamed across a corner of La Bellorita, half a mile dis- 
 tant. And as we talk, the breeze comes to us across the 
 flower-beds of the little front enclosure, and its perfume 
 changes from rose to geranium, from violet to heliotrope, 
 from orange to verbena and mignonette. And our sleep 
 is undisturbed, for the ingenio is dark and silent, and 
 nought is heard save the faint, hourly cry of the night- 
 watch, echoing across distant canefields. 
 
FIRE IN THE CANE. 251 
 
 The next morning we ride over to the ruins. Acres 
 upon acres of blackened stalks of cane, with red sparks 
 of fire in them, and slender columns of gray smoke 
 over them ; charred frames of carts, and blistered bodies 
 of oxen ; heaps of ashes and embers to mark the sites 
 of the barracon and hospital, and woe-begone, home- 
 less wretches crawling over them ; the huge, black skel- 
 eton of the engine grimly overlooking the dingy debris 
 of the sugar-house ; and in the midst, the white colon- 
 naded mansion staring out, still and ghostly, over the 
 dreary waste ! 
 
 I am amazed to learn that those prostrate, grimy 
 stalks are still available for a dark, heavy, most inferior 
 quality of sugar, if quickly worked up ; and my host 
 has already sent his neighbor an elaborately worded 
 message, which, however, is as full of genuine kindness 
 as of Cuban courtesy, since it places his own sugar-house, 
 and all the accessories, at his immediate disposal. 
 
 " It will leave the boilers and vats in such a state 
 that my own sugar will be dingy for days afterward," 
 he says to me, " but there is no telling how soon I may 
 need the same favor, and we planters always do it for 
 each other. I presume that Don Hernandez has his 
 choice of half the ingenios in the vicinity. When all is 
 done, his loss will not be less than three hundred 
 thousand dollars." 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A CAFETAL. 
 
 rpHE eyes of the morning were not yet opened when 
 Chiquita — the pretty, soft-voiced lady's maid of 
 Santa Sofia — stood at my bedside. " The compliments 
 of Don JuaD, setiora, and he kisses your adorable lit- 
 tle hands, and throws himself at your beautiful little 
 feet, and would it please you to take an early drive this 
 morning." 
 
 Perhaps it would be too much to say that a long 
 sojourn in the United States has taken the fine edge off" 
 from Juan's native courtesy, yet certain it is that he 
 would not send those flowers of Spanish rhetoric to an 
 American market. But Chiquita, doubtless, thought 
 the omission accidental rather than deliberate, and 
 so made over his simple message into something 
 more accordant with her own notions of fitness, before 
 she delivered it into my amused ears. There is never 
 any doubt that a Cuban servant will do full justice to 
 the most elaborately complimentary message you choose 
 to send; the chances are that she will "better the 
 instruction." 
 
 When our volante came to the door, the day had 
 just gotten its eyes open, and its roseate smile bright- 
 
A CAFETAL. 253 
 
 ened the hilltops. At first, our way lay through green 
 levels of dew-gemmed sugar-cane, and was frequently 
 bordered by stately old palms, whose boughs shone and 
 rustled like satin in the sweet, fresh breeze of the trop- 
 ical morning. I also noticed with interest hedges of 
 aloe, — better known to us 'as the century plant, — with 
 tall, tree-lik# stems, from which the crimson or yellow 
 blossoms had lately fallen, rising from them here and 
 there ; and I inquired of our old, white-headed calesero 
 if it was true that they flowered but once in a hundred 
 years? "I think not, seflora" he answered, smiling. 
 " I am certain that some of those plants have bloomed 
 twice in my remembrance. Others, to be sure, have 
 not bloomed at all." 
 
 The soil of these plantations is noticeably red in 
 color, resembling nothing so much as moist brickdust, 
 but it is exceedingly fertile. The sugar-cane grows to 
 the height of eight or ten feet, and the stalks are thick 
 and succulent. In it we saw negroes and coolies at 
 work, each gang being supervised by a driver — or con- 
 tra-mayoral, as he is termed here, — with a whip in his 
 hand, as a badge of office. Every laborer had a bright, 
 sharp machete— an instrument which is half a sword 
 and half a sickle ; two strokes of this stripped the up- 
 right stalk of its long leaves, and a third laid it on the 
 ground. They worked silently and swiftly, and the 
 dense, waving cane fell fast before them. After them 
 came ox-carts, with frames in them, which were quickly 
 loaded with the stalks, and driven off to the sugar- 
 house. The leaves serve as food for the cattle. 
 
254 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 On the outskirts of the plantation, dividing the culti- 
 vated fields from those where Nature still had everything 
 her own way, we found stone walls, similar in construc- 
 tion to those of New England, but far prettier in general 
 effect ; since the Great Mother, being unable to get rid 
 of them, had kindly taken them in hand, and done her 
 best to make them beautiful with rich browrfc>f weather- 
 stains, and soft greenery of mosses, and close-clinging 
 drapery of flowering vines, and a dense border of luxu- 
 riant ferns and other accumulated tropical vegeta- 
 tion; among which, growing wild, were many of the 
 plants that we cultivate in gardens at home. In the 
 thickets, I frequently beheld the dreary spectacle of 
 some fine forest tree, strangling in the embrace of the 
 jaguey-marcho, the most deadly of parasites. It com- 
 mences its insidious work indiscriminately among the 
 branches or on the trunk of the tree, and in a few years, 
 the body of its victim is almost, or wholly, covered with 
 a curious, gnarled, twisted, and interlaced overgrowth, 
 varying from an inch to two or three inches in thick- 
 ness ; and its stiff, yellowish green foliage mixes with the 
 richer and more graceful verdure which it is its purpose 
 to destroy. By and by, the throttled tree pales and 
 droops, the trunk seems to heave and strain with a vain 
 effort to burst its fetters, then it slowly withers, dies, 
 and crumbles away ; and the miserable parasite is left 
 standing alone, for a time, flaunting its fetid, yellow 
 flowers over the grave of its late companion. But retri- 
 bution is at hand. At the first touch of the hurricane, 
 sweeping up from the south — the first onset of the tempest 
 
A CAFETAL. 255 
 
 marching down from the north — the hollow mockery of 
 a tree falls with a crash, to mingle its ashes with those 
 of its betrayed friend, by whose help it lived its heart- 
 less life, and reached its temporary elevation. JEl cupey 
 belongs to the same order as the jaguey-marcho, and 
 strongly resembles it in its habits and appearance ; but 
 the smaller parasitical plants, of which there are many, 
 are often graceful of form, and beautiful with every hue 
 of blossoms. 
 
 We might have spent the entire morning pleasantly 
 in the lanes and avenues of Santa Sofia, had we chosen, 
 so large an area does it cover; but Juan designed to 
 show me a cafetal / and after crossing one or two adja- 
 cent plantations, we came upon a pleasant tract of hill- 
 country, and were soon in the midst of a sylvan scene 
 that seemed to take the Garden of Eden out of the mists 
 of tradition, and make it a matter of visual experience. 
 The coffee-plant needs to grow under shade ; therefore 
 the estate is first planted with whatever fruit and shade 
 trees are most to the owner's taste, and becomes a vast 
 grove of cocoa, tamarind, mango, cedar, guava, plan- 
 tain, cacao, magnolia, mimosa, guanabana, etc. Under 
 these grows the coffee plant, an evergreen shrub, covered 
 with snowy, fragrant blossoms, greatly similar to the 
 white jessamine, and a round, cherry-like fruit, of change- 
 ful hues of green, white, yellow, and red, according to its 
 degree of maturity, — both fruit and flowers being found 
 on the shrub at the same time. It grows naturally to 
 a height of sixteen or eighteen feet, but is kept pruned 
 down to five or six, for greater convenience in picking. 
 
256 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 These groves are permeated by shady, winding paths, 
 in which it would be a delight to lose one's self, and 
 divided into regular squares by broad avenues of palms, 
 and narrower alleys of orange, mango, and other 
 beautiful tropical trees. Interspersed everywhere are 
 flowering shrubs and vines, — the oleander, the pome- 
 granate, the allspice, the lemon, the lime, the yellow 
 elder, roses, jessamines, the tree mignonette, the scarlet 
 pe?io?i, and a hundred others, with blossoms of every 
 hue and odor. The cactus family is largely represented, 
 the most highly prized variety being the night-bloom- 
 ing cereus, which seems an aspiring plant, climbing 
 walls and gateways, and catching hold of the boughs of 
 trees, the better to mount into a region of purer air 
 and clearer light. And everywhere, amid the sunshine 
 and the flowers, are butterflies and humming-birds, and 
 innumerable insects, some changefully gleaming with 
 prismatic tints, others flashing like animated gems. 
 
 Thus, it will be seen, the cafetal becomes an immense 
 pleasure garden, — full of flowers and fruit — rich cano- 
 pies of verdure and soft glooms of shade — pleasant, 
 meandering walks — and green archways of interlacing 
 boughs, through which the sunshine seems to drip more 
 goldenly than elsewhere. The Cubans call it "Para- 
 dise," and I thought it the loveliest, peacefulest, most 
 sylvan and flowery abode that ever the taste or thrift of 
 man devised for himself. How safe, good, and happy, 
 life ought to be in such a lovely environment ! If it is 
 not so, if the weakness and wickedness of human nature 
 are fostered even here, one may as well give over, once 
 
A CAFETAL. 25*7 
 
 for all, waiting for the good time and favorable circum- 
 stances which seem so essential to the work of self- 
 amendment, and straightway set about it, in whatever 
 narrow path and meagre outlook are open to him. 
 
 In one of the avenues we came upon a dark, middle- 
 aged gentleman, leaning upon a cane, who, recognizing 
 our volante and calesero as the property of a neigh- 
 bor and friend, lifted his hat to us, introduced himself 
 as the proprietor of the estate, and besought us to taste 
 of his fruit. A lithe mulatto boy was forthwith sdt to 
 climbing trees ; and the fruits thereof, with the morning- 
 dew still on them, were showered into the volante; 
 while our new acquaintance amused himself with prepar- 
 ing various unfamiliar varieties for me to try, and 
 watching the effect. One sort was handed to me with 
 so transparently mischievous a smile, that I was fore- 
 warned of evil at once, and took care not to plunge 
 rashly into its acid depths ; but a slight flavor thereof 
 sufficed to set all my teeth on edge. 
 
 " What can it possibly be used for ? " I ask, shud- 
 dering. 
 
 "The expressed juice -often serves in lieu of. vinegar, 
 and we make a good preserve of the ripe fruit," is the 
 answer. 
 
 My glance goes back to the . specimen in my hand, 
 and rests there meditatively. "Can I afford you any 
 further information ? " asks the polite Don. 
 
 " ISTo — yes — that is, seizor, I should like to know how 
 many sugar-crops are required to sweeten a jar of that 
 preserve ! " Whereat he laughs as heartily as a Span- 
 iard ever deigns to laugh. 
 
258 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 Nor did the Don's attentions stop here. He intro- 
 duced us to a. pair of flamingoes in a pen, — odd, long- 
 legged and long-necked birds of the crane family, 
 awkward in movement, but of the most beautiful rose- 
 color, shading into white, and not less than four feet 
 high. He gave me a branch of the Flor de Pascua, or 
 Easter Flower, with cream-colored, wax-like blossoms, 
 and foliage of bright scarlet. He exhibited" a specimen 
 of the guana, or lace-tree, the bark of which, when duly- 
 soaked in water, is capable of being separated into in- 
 numerable webs, of a delicate, mull-like texture, which 
 are embroidered, and used as a substitute for lace. 
 Seeing a chameleon on a tamarind tree near us, lie sent 
 the aforesaid mulatto boy in chase of that, and dis- 
 sertated learnedly upon its habits and changes of color. 
 Finally, he showed us through the coffee-buildings. 
 
 The operations of the cafetal present nothing of the 
 hard and repulsive features of the ingenio. It is simply 
 an easy and beautiful system of horticulture, on a most 
 extensive scale. The labor is chiefly manual, and the 
 profit is derived directly from the culture and products 
 of the soil, without the intervention of costly machinery, 
 or the necessity of much scientific knowledge and skill. 
 There is no occasion for night labor, and the negroes 
 looked altogether heartier and happier than those of the 
 ingenio. During the winter months, they are employed 
 in gathering the various and abundant fruits for market, 
 and in tending the coffee-plants. From August to De- 
 cember, the coffee-berries mostly ripen, when they are 
 about the size and general appearance of our red cher- 
 
A CAFETAL. 259 
 
 ries. The coffee-berry, or grain, of commerce, is the seed 
 of this fruit ; two of which are contained in each berry, 
 having their flat surfaces together, and a sweet, muci- 
 laginous pulp around them. The ripe berries are picked 
 carefully, by hand, in baskets, and spread on secaderos, 
 or driers, — certain large, wooden frames, where they are 
 exposed to the sun by day, and protected from the dew 
 by night, for "about three weeks, or until they are quite 
 dry and hard. They are next cracked open, and the 
 seed dislodged, by means of a heavy, wooden wheel, 
 moving in a circular trough which is kept filled with the 
 dried fruit. They are then passed through a fanning- 
 mill, which clears them from the dried pulp, and sepa- 
 rates the larger grains from the smaller ones, with the 
 help of a wire sieve which allows the latter, with the 
 dirt, to fall through into a receiver, and passes on the 
 former to a different receptacle. The contents of the 
 receiver are then spread out on long tables, at which a 
 company of negroes are seated, who pick out the dirt, 
 and make a separate heap of the broken grains. The 
 coffee is then bagged, and ready for market. Some of 
 the older trees produce a small, well rounded berry, 
 which is reckoned equal to the finest Mocha. 
 
 The coffee-culture, however, is fast declining in Cuba, 
 on account of the little encouragement it receives from 
 the Home Government, the successful competition of 
 Brazil and the French Antilles, and the greater profits 
 of sugar-making. Year by year, therefore, these lovely 
 gardens and groves are cleared, and transformed, as far 
 as the nature of the ground will admit, into a vast 
 
260 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 monotony of sun-steeped cane-fields. For the cane 
 loves sun, not shade, and wherever it appears, the trees 
 fall, — except in the few palm-avenues which are retained 
 for boundaries and roadways, and the shade trees of the 
 easa de vivienda. 
 
 It was with difficulty that our new friend was con- 
 strained to limit his favors to the bestowal of flowers 
 and fruit, and the exhibition of natural curiosities and 
 coffee-buildings. He invited us to take coffee, to take 
 wine, to stay and dine with him, to spend the night, 
 and make a more thorough investigation of the premises ; 
 all of which hospitalities we were obliged steadfastly to 
 decline, and set our faces toward Santa Sofia. For, this 
 being my last day in that delightful precinct, I was un- 
 willing to lose so much of the society of its inmates, 
 between whom and myself there had sprung up one of 
 those wayside friendships — rapid in growth as Jonah's 
 gourd, but not necessarily so transitory — which con- 
 tribute so much to the pleasure of travel. Hitherto, I 
 frankly confess, I had not found the Cuban ladies and 
 myself entirely in harmony; our education, religion, 
 habits of life and thought, were so dissimilar that the 
 maintenance of a certain degree of reserve had seemed a 
 wise precaution against uncomfortable jarring of senti- 
 ment. But Dona Angela and I suited to the core of our 
 hearts ; nor was this consonance anywise disturbed by 
 her frank avowal of all manner of Spanish prejudice and 
 misconception, nor the many rude Americanisms with 
 which I parried them. She was very severe on our civil 
 war, had a holy horror of "Jilibusteros" and could be 
 
A CAFETAL. 261 
 
 especially eloquent about the length of our" tax-list. * 
 I predicted the speedy adoption of republican institutions 
 in Spain, the ultimate absorption of Cuba by the United 
 States, and produced my " ticket of disembarkation " 
 and my subsequent " permits " for travel and for resi- 
 dence. She ridiculed the squeamishness of American 
 women, alleging that it was currently reported in Cuba 
 that they never confessed to a pain in any organ lower 
 than the throat, even to their family physician. I re- 
 torted that it was as universally believed in the United 
 States that all Cuban ladies smoked. She animad- 
 verted upon the flippancy, free manners and flirtations 
 of our young ladies ; and I commented on the vacuity 
 and inefficiency of her countrywomen. Privately, how- 
 
 * It may not be amiss to mention some items of Cuban taxation. 
 There is a poll-tax, an income-tax, a tax upon industry, property, 
 and commerce. All crops pay a per centage. All contracts must 
 be made upon stamped paper, furnished by the government at (if I 
 remember correctly) eight dollars per sheet. Permits, or licenses, 
 must be obtained for opening a school, store, market, place of 
 public amusement or entertainment, for street-vending, for enter- 
 ing a profession, for building or repairing, for changing residence 
 (whether from house to house, or town to town), for giving a 
 party, for keeping a carriage, for hiring out a slave, for issuing a 
 paper or pamphlet, and for travelling in the island, and a passport 
 must be obtained for leaving it, — any failure to obtain which per- 
 mits is punishable by a fine. Less than half the revenue thus 
 obtained is required for the governmental expenses of the island, 
 the remainder is remitted to the Home Government. .No wonder 
 that Cuba has received the expressive, if inelegant, nickname of 
 " La vaca de leche de Espafla " — the milch cow of Spain ! 
 
262 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 ever, I more than half concurred with Dona Angela in 
 her last stricture. Not that I would willingly see the 
 rigid Cuban code of propriety adopted in my own land, 
 since a little more freedom of action is quite compatible 
 with true delicacy ; and fosters, moreover, that courage 
 and self-reliance which may be purity's best safeguards. 
 But it must be acknowledged that, in our society, the 
 liberty of young people is fast degenerating into a 
 license that must needs be as pernicious in its effects, as 
 it is unlovely in its manifestations. Very few Amer- 
 ican girls, nowadays, possess that tender grace of 
 budding womanhood, folded about with soft veilings of 
 gentle humility and maidenly reserve, which is, never- 
 theless, girlhood's most potent charm. 
 
 We returned to Santa Sofia by a different road, 
 taking in our way several small farms, variously termed 
 vegaSy potreros, sitios, esta?icias f and fincas, according 
 as they made a specialty of tobacco, cattle, fruits, and 
 vegetables, or bees. The houses were generally rude in 
 make and material, though sometimes roomy, and with 
 numerous outbuildings ; the most usual pattern being a 
 rough construction of bamboo poles, sided with palm- 
 boards and thatched with palm-leaves, consisting of a 
 living-room and a sleeping-room or two, all on one floor ; 
 connected with which, by a simple roof, was a small 
 kitchen. Here we saw the guajiro, or countryman, at 
 home. He was at once simple and astute, active and 
 lazy, brave and boastful, superstitious and irreligious, 
 domestic* and vagabond. He did no regular work, but 
 divided his time about equally between overseeing the 
 
A CAFETAL. 263 
 
 handful of negroes, or other laborers, employed on his 
 place, and in gambling, cock-fighting, and loafing. He 
 was not unintelligent, at least, as regarded his own busi- 
 ness ; and he had the innate Cuban courtesy of manner. 
 He gladly showed us all that we cared to see, politely 
 answered our questions, and did not suffer us to depart 
 without a pressing invitation to take coffee — the univer- 
 sal Cuban beverage. 
 
CHAPTER XXVL 
 
 BEMBA AND LIMONAR. 
 
 (~\N tlie following morning the volante was at the 
 door at daybreak, and I took leave of Santa Sofia 
 with genuine regret, knowing that henceforth it was 
 lost from my actual life, however greenly its memories 
 mi~ht cling to my heart. We were to return to Matan- 
 zas by a different route, and a drive of three or four 
 miles brought us to Bemba, a small town where we 
 were to take the cars. The train had not arrived when 
 we alighted at the depot, — a most uninviting spot for 
 even a temporary sojourn. So dismissing the calesero, we 
 began, with our restless American habit, to promenade 
 up and down the principal street, followed by the gaze 
 of half the population. Nothing more unlike an Amer- 
 ican town can well be imagined. It consisted of two 
 or three narrow streets, irregularly paved with small 
 round stones, and bordered by rows of contiguous 
 houses, of different heights and dates, but all run in the 
 inevitable one-storied, massive- walled, red-tiled mould; 
 and all apparently of an antiquity that might be called 
 venerable, but which was possibly owing as much to 
 the ageing influences of the climate as to the lapse of 
 years. Their interiors were correspondingly shabby and 
 
BEMBA AND LIMONAR. 265 
 
 dingy, with the usual paucity of furniture, and looked 
 as if they might have been inhabited by a long succes- 
 sion of unthrifty generations. Turning a corner, we 
 found a row of still poorer houses, very coarsely and 
 clumsily built, and stuck so close together as to give a 
 dismal impression of a sombre, stifled, festering, un- 
 wholesome atmosphere for the occupants. This fashion 
 of paving village streets, and building village houses in 
 such close proximity, shuts out every rural charm, — 
 all those soft depths of verdure and shade, and pleasant 
 mosaics of grass-plot and garden, which make a New 
 England village so picturesque an object. Not a tree, 
 nor shrub, nor blade of grass, brightened the scene; 
 and the sky was merely a narrow, shimmering strip 
 overhead. 
 
 The town was so small that I had twice traversed 
 its entire length, within a few minutes ; passing each 
 time a little coffee-house, whose stone floor joined the 
 street pavement, and whose small round tables en- 
 croached upon that narrow pathway to an inconvenient 
 extent. - At one of these sat a handsome, portly gentle- 
 man, with a cheerful twinkle in his eye ; whose table 
 service narrowly escaped being swept off by my gar- 
 ments at every turn. On my third appearance this 
 personage rose, bowed low, and said, with inimitable 
 grace of phrase and manner, " As there was yet some 
 time before the train was due, and the village offered 
 little to interest strangers, and the sun was exceeding 
 hot, perhaps we would do him the honor to take a cup 
 of coffee with him, while we waited. Otherwise " (an- 
 12 
 
266 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 other low bow) " his unhappy table must beg pardon for 
 being so much in our way." 
 
 It was good to find so fair a flower of the generous, 
 old-time hospitality springing up in the midst of the 
 selfish modern civilization, and I could not find it in my 
 heart to leave it unplucked. So I nodded to Juan, and 
 we sat down opposite the courtly stranger, in the narrow 
 street of the quaint little town, and partook of his coffee 
 and rolls, and listened to his humorous, meandering talk, 
 and answered his questions about those United States 
 which he had always meant to visit for himself, but would 
 never now behold, it was plain to see. For the slug- 
 gish spell of the fervid Cuban sky was strong upon 
 him, and he would dream away his life in that quiet, 
 queer old town, brightening Hs memory to strangers 
 with the amaranthine flower of an unsurpassed and un- 
 surpassable courtesy, knowing nothing of the outside 
 world save what the train and the newspaper brought 
 him, and wondering, by and by, when it was that he 
 grew so old ! 
 
 "We also made a brief stop at the little village of 
 Limonar, highly recommended to invalids as a place of 
 residence for the spring months, on account of its pure 
 and invigorating air. It lies in the midst of a gently 
 undulating and deeply fertile country, with here and 
 there a wooded hill, and on one side, a blue chain of 
 mountains. Its outward aspect is that of all Cuban 
 villages, — a small %ilaza^ planted with palms, a church, 
 two or three posadas, or inns, a few shops, and a cluster 
 of red-tiled roofs. Its inhabitants seemed very idle in the 
 
BMMBA AND LIMONAB, 267 
 
 warm, summery clay, they were seated at their open doors 
 and windows, or gathered in little groups on the side- 
 walks, leisurely chatting together, and coolly observant 
 of the passing stranger. It was all very dreamy, and very 
 picturesque, — the idle groups, the little plaza steeped in 
 warmth and languor, the distant mountains wrapped in 
 slumbrous folds of haze, and, on the green, breeze-kissed 
 hillsides, the plumy cocoa-nut trees rocking themselves 
 to sleep. 
 
 I saw nothing worth noting, in the matter of scenery, 
 on my homeward journey; there was only the old 
 material of hills and valleys, palms, ceibas and cane- 
 fields, kaleidoscopically wrought into new pictures, 
 which one would never tire of gazing upon, but which 
 may well become wearisome in my feeble sketches. But 
 I did find an order of beings in those cars, that, to my 
 long unwonted eyes, seemed now to be seen for the first 
 time. Certain commercial agents, from the United 
 States, were on board, making a tour of the plantations, 
 with designs upon the forthcoming sugar crops. Their 
 figures did not appear to advantage, drawn in strong 
 light and shade on a background of grave Spanish 
 courteousness and dignity. They put their feet on the 
 seats, they yawned and stretched, they roamed restlessly 
 up and down the passage way, they shouted bad witti- 
 cisms to each other from opposite ends of the cars, they 
 badgered the conductor, and they smoked as vigorously 
 as the Spaniards, but with far greater and more reckless 
 expenditure of saliva. They seemed to have left all the 
 decent restraints of life at home, to roam lawlessly 
 
268 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 among a people whereof the ceremonious politeness has 
 passed into a proverb. Yet no doubt any one of them 
 would have resigned his seat to me instantly, if the 
 cars had been crowded, and taken it quite as a matter of 
 course, if I had omitted to say " thank you." Verily, 
 we are at once the worst and the best mannered people 
 in the world ! 
 
 And once again I was startled to find how things 
 once familiar had grown strange to me. On a little 
 elevation near the railway, with a barren monotony of 
 low, wild shrubbery around it, stood one of those brown- 
 painted, many-windowed, ornate villas, which are grow- 
 ing up everywhere in my own country, but of which 
 there is not, I presume, another sj)ecimen in all Cuba. 
 I used to think them pretty, and should find them so 
 still, doubtless, in surroundings better adapted to them ; 
 but beside the grand, simple sweep of the tropical land- 
 scape, the toy-like dwelling was insufferably petty and 
 finical. I comprehended, then, that architecture must 
 necessarily be a growth and not a creation, and that 
 every style has some subtle relation to the climate where 
 it was born, and does not bear transplanting. The 
 straight, simple lines, broad colonnades, and massive cor- 
 nice of Santa Sofia came back to me now as the ideal 
 perfection of a Cuban dwelling, though I had not 
 thought of it before. 
 
 By and by, the lofty head of the Monte del Pan rose 
 over the hill ranges, and welcomed me back to Ma- 
 tanzas ; which was all the more homelike that I had 
 lived there long enough to get a little tired of it before 
 
BBJUBA AND LIMONAR. 269 
 
 I went away. I suspect that much of the charm of 
 home and friends is due to this same placid wontedness, 
 verging on tedium; without it there may be gayety, 
 excitement, tumultuous alternations of exhilaration and 
 depression, but no tranquil, peaceful happiness, " flow- 
 ing like a river." Certain it is that the four walls of 
 my little room, of which I had grown immensely weary 
 before I left them, now took on the most genial, com- 
 fortable, restful aspect, making me feel and say from 
 my heart, " How good it is to be at home ! " 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 SHADOW. 
 
 rpHOUGH Cuba is justly called a paradise, yet it is an 
 earthly one, and subject to earthly conditions. Dis- 
 ease and death have their sombre part in its life. And, 
 for a brief space, I came just enough within their shadow 
 to be able to acquaint my readers with some peculiarities 
 of Cuban sick-rooms and Cuban funerals, — though not 
 enough to make the task difficult, by reason of recollec- 
 tions personally painful. 
 
 I should have said, at the end of the last chapter, 
 that I did not enter those four familiar walls without 
 some difficulty. The arrival of our volante before the 
 Samano threshold being duly announced within, Dona 
 Coloma appeared in the door, with a welcoming smile, 
 but a warning gesture. There was sickness in the house, 
 she said. Dolorita had been seized with doubtful symp- 
 toms two days before ; the nature of her disease was still 
 uncertain. But the rest of the children had been sent 
 to their grandmother, until further developments. Nor 
 must I be exposed to danger. Her mother would be 
 happy to receive me also. So would her sister Lolita. 
 Both had placed their houses unreservedly at my dis- 
 posal. I had but to choose, and let the volante convey 
 me forthwith to the preferred haven. 
 
SHADOW. 211 
 
 "What is the disease supposed to be?" I asked, 
 going straight at the point hidden under all this careful 
 discourse. 
 
 Evidently Dona Coloma found it hard to put her 
 fear into plain words. She could not tell — she hoped — 
 it might be nothing serious — but — there had been a 
 case of small-pox next door — and — 
 
 "Is that all?" I responded, cheerfully. "Then, if 
 you do not absolutely shut your doors against me, I shall 
 come in. Did we all pass unhurt and undismayed through 
 the small-pox epidemic of two months ago, to run away 
 from a sporadic case or two, now ? " 
 
 The sefiora's face brightened visibly. Courage is 
 contagious, as well as fear. Nevertheless, the atmos- 
 phere of the house was far from cheerful. Dolorita was 
 quarantined at the farther end of one of the wings. The 
 servants moved about stealthily, with panic-shadowed 
 faces. There was an unnatural silence and orderliness 
 throughout the large rooms and long galleries — no scur- 
 rying to and fro of children's feet, no shouting and 
 laughter, no litter of play-things. Especially did I miss 
 Odila's comical pranks and wild flow of spirits. 
 
 At dusk, the doctor made one of his semi-daily visits. 
 Watching him closely, it struck me that he did not look 
 like a man in doubt, nor one burdened with a disagree- 
 able certainty, though he still declined to speak pos- 
 itively with regard to the disease. But he might have 
 reasons of his own for keeping others in suspense. In a 
 house of so many inmates, a certain degree of anxiety 
 and dread was, no doubt, conducive to the quiet and 
 
272 MY WINTER IX CUBA. 
 
 regularity of the sick-room. And, in the confidence 
 thus inspired, I ventured to pay it a visit. 
 
 But, upon my first glance at the patient, I half 
 repented of my temerity. Certainly, nothing but small- 
 pox could be answerable for a skin like that ! Always 
 very dark of complexion, Dolorita was now a perfect 
 little blackamoor. Her small countenance was posi- 
 tively elfish in its dinginess and its sharpness. This 
 effect was enhanced by a large blue cotton handker- 
 chief wound round her head, turban-fashion. " What 
 for ? " I could not help- asking. " To keep her from 
 taking cold," responded her mother. A most unneces- 
 sary precaution, it seemed to me, with the thermometer 
 ranging from eighty-four to ninety ! 
 
 Observing the dingy face more narrowly, I was 
 somewhat reassured to notice that it still had a. very 
 natural expression — Dolorita's own habitual self-com- 
 placence, rather intensified than otherwise under the 
 favorable influences consequent upon being the centre of 
 interest, — a position always congenial to the tastes of 
 the little maiden. She responded to my polite inquiries 
 in a tone wherein a certain satisfaction was so thinly 
 masked by a doleful whine, that I was made tolerably 
 easy about her, at once. It was plain that her situation 
 was neither so dangerous nor so painful but that she was 
 able to extract a considerable degree of enjoyment from 
 it. And, gradually, a suspicion arose within me that 
 the duskiness of her complexion was possibly owing to 
 another cause than disease, that a plentiful application 
 of soap and water would produce a more magical effect 
 
SHADOW. 273 
 
 than was ever wrought by the artfullest cosmetic. As 
 delicately as might be, I ventured to hint this possibility 
 to her mother. She replied, composedly, that Dolorita 
 was, without doubt, frightfully dirty ; but, inasmuch as 
 she had a little fever, it was impossible to wash her with 
 water ; and as she had an insurmountable antipathy to 
 aguardiente (cane-rum), and would not allow them to 
 touch her with it, there was nothing to be done but to 
 let her go unwashed till the fever left her ! 
 
 This dread of water, and the belief in the necessity 
 of bundling up a patient's head, seem to be common to 
 all Cuban nurses. A medicamental peculiarity is the 
 free use of olive oil and garlic, both in professional and 
 domestic practice. A favorite article of sick-diet is a 
 certain sopa depan, prepared by laying a slice of bread 
 (toasted or not, at discretion) in a deep plate, breaking 
 a raw egg upon it, and pouring a weak beef or chicken 
 broth, boiling hot, over the whole. I remember nothing 
 else that was noteworthy in the regimen of the sick- 
 
 9 
 
 room. 
 
 At breakfast, next morning, considerable excitement 
 was caused by the sudden appearance of Odila, some- 
 what scantily clad in a chemise and an apron. The 
 news of my return being the one drop too much in the 
 poor child's cup of homesickness, she had eluded the 
 vigilance of grandmother and nurse, snatched the 
 nearest garments, and made the best of her way home. 
 She now threw herself upon my neck in a kind of insane 
 rapture, showered me with kisses, choked me with hugs, 
 and finally fell to chewing my hair, by way of outlet to 
 12* 
 
274 MY WINTER IX CUBA. 
 
 her overflowing gladness. From this whimsical occupa- 
 tion she was torn, perforce, by Atanasia, and, despite 
 her frantic struggles and puny wrath, dragged back to 
 exile. 
 
 However, it was soon over. That very afternoon, 
 the doctor favored us with his professional conclusions. 
 Dolorita had been threatened with a fever, but it had 
 gracefully yielded to timely and efficient remedies. 
 There was no longer any cause for apprehension. Thus 
 the shadow — never very deep, except for the possibilities 
 that seemed to lurk within it — was lifted from our 
 dwelling. 
 
 Scarce a week after, a near neighbor and familiar 
 friend died suddenly, of apoplexy. Immediately Dona 
 Coloma sent a message of condolence to the afflicted 
 family, placed a man-servant at their disposal, and of- 
 fered her own assistance in the preparation of mourning 
 garments, — the latter friendly office being of special 
 avail in a country where the interval between death and 
 interment seldom exceeds twenty-four hours. Her offer 
 being gratefully accepted, she straightway set to work 
 upon certain black material sent her, and scarce inter- 
 mitted her labors till the time of the funeral. 
 
 Meanwhile the corpse was laid in state. A platform, 
 covered with black cloth, was erected in the middle of 
 the sala, upon which the coffin was placed, resting upon 
 three large cushions. Around this platform were twelve 
 candlesticks, not less than five or six feet high, contain- 
 ing lighted wax candles of about the same height ; and 
 between these, were smaller ones, — all of which were to 
 
SJTADOW. 275 
 
 be kept burning until the removal of the corpse. The 
 walls, doors, and windows, were lugubriously draped 
 with black; as was also an adjoining room, for the use 
 of the mourners. A guard of honor kept watch over the 
 corpse, composed of servants in livery, furnished by 
 friends and neighbors; to which, as aforementioned, 
 Doiia Coloma had contributed her quota. The final 
 effect of these arrangements was both sombre and im- 
 posing. 
 
 At night, it being supposed that the grief of the 
 near relatives was too acute to admit of sleep, many of 
 the friends of the family, both male and female, joined 
 them, to form a velad-a, — a word corresponding very 
 nearly, in this sense, to the Irish " wake." At midnight, 
 a supper was served ; at which time, the gathering might 
 almost have been mistaken for a pleasure-party. On the 
 following day, too, just before the funeral, a dinner was 
 provided for all present who cared to partake of it. 
 
 At two o'clock, p.m., the funeral rites began with 
 the recital of prayers, three or four priests being pre- 
 sent, each of whom would receive a fee for his trouble. 
 The procession was then formed: the priests led the 
 way, on foot, and in their robes, followed by three aco- 
 lyths bearing long silver rods surmounted by crosses 
 and lighted tapers ; next, came the hearse, with glass 
 sides and top, surrounded by the aforesaid guard of 
 honor; then a long double file of the male friends and 
 acquaintances of the deceased ; and after them, their 
 own empty volantes and carriages, and as many others 
 as had been sent for the purpose, making a long line of 
 
276 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 unoccupied vehicles aud liveried coachmen. No females 
 joined in the procession, — neither did the nearest male 
 relatives of the deceased, — to do so would be deemed 
 inconsistent with their grief. All persons in the streets 
 stopped and lifted their hats, as the procession passed. 
 
 At the cathedral, there were more candles and more 
 prayers, a responsory was sung, and the coffin was 
 sprinkled with holy water. The procession then moved 
 to the Campo Santo (literally, "holy ground" — other- 
 wise, cemetery) — a barren and repulsive spot enough. It 
 is surrounded by high walls, and traversed by others, all 
 eight or ten feet thick, and honeycombed with row 
 upon row of niches for the reception of coffins, — some 
 open, some closed with marble slabs bearing the name, 
 date of death, etc., of the occupant. The open ground 
 between the walls is filled by the graves of the humbler 
 classes, all level with the ground, and marked by a 
 small horizontal slab ; — here also are a few family 
 vaults. There is no ostentation, neither is there any 
 beauty ; — the whole is hard, bare, cheerless. 
 
 The coffin, which we have followed thus far, was 
 deposited in one of the above-named niches, during the 
 recital of prayers ; and the opening was closed. The 
 members of the funeral suite then entered their car- 
 riages, and drove back to the desolate dwelling. Here, 
 the sola had been cleared of the funeral apparatus, and 
 filled with rows of chairs, in one of which rows sat the 
 bereaved family. The returned suite took seats, and re- 
 mained in profound silence for about half an hour. Then, 
 one by one, they rose, shook hands with the mourners, 
 
SHADOW. 211 
 
 and took their leave. Other visits of condolence filled 
 up the day. 
 
 One of these was made by Dona Coloma, in the 
 evening. Left at home, alone, I turned to the piano for 
 amusement. Very soon, Francisca appeared, with an 
 extremely troubled face. Being asked the cause thereof, 
 she found courage to inform me, with many excuses and 
 much begging of pardon, that Dona Coloma would be 
 greatly distressed to have the sound of a piano heard 
 in the house, so soon after the funeral of an acquain- 
 tance. Of course, I closed the instrument at once, and 
 thus it remained until the following Sunday, when Dolo- 
 rita broke the spell of silence by a spirited waltz. 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to say, after this, that the 
 customs of mourning are very strict. Black garments 
 are scrupulously worn, society is eschewed, and the 
 windows of the bereaved house, opening on the street, 
 are kept closed — or partially so, at least — for six months. 
 
CHAPTER XXVm. 
 
 WAITING IN HAVANA. 
 
 rpHTTS far, my story's movement has been progressive, 
 now it takes a backward curve. And there is a 
 certain sadness always inseparable from return. On- 
 ward — ever onward — is the rule of life, and to turn back 
 on the old paths to the old places and the old pursuits, 
 seems, at the first glance, to involve some corresponding 
 inward retrogradation. Not till the return is consum- 
 mated do we learn (and sadly still !) that the soul never 
 goes back to the old standpoint, nor the mind to the 
 cast-off habit of thought. Nor are the places and the 
 faces to which we recur ever quite the same. Time has 
 carried them along also ; and so we come to understand, 
 finally, that whichever way our footsteps turn, accord- 
 ing to human vision and nomenclature, we are ever 
 going forward. Life has no absolute retrograde. 
 
 I did not know how many rootlets I had sent down 
 into the kindly soil of Matanzas, till the time of leave- 
 taking came. Although its name is of dismal import 
 enough — meaning literally "The place of slaughter," 
 and earned honestly by a wholesale massacre of the crew 
 of a Spanish ship by the Indians, in the time of Diego 
 Velasquez — it had been a place of renewing of life to 
 
WAITING IN HAVANA, 279 
 
 mo. And I had gratefully learned it by heart. Few of 
 its inhabitants, I fancied, knew more of its ins and outs 
 than I did. Day after day I had traversed its narrow 
 streets, its bay-kissed 2 mseo t ^ ts flower-embroidered 
 plaza y and, evening after evening, I had watched the 
 twilight-gray creep up the Cumbre, and the stars smile 
 down into the clear depths of the rivers San Juan and 
 Yumuri. I was familiar with the gay little shops and 
 queer old houses of Versailles, and the narrow crowded 
 life and shabby, evil-odored dwellings of Puebla Nueva. 
 I had had nothing to do with its work-a-day life, and 
 little enough with its social one ; my business and pleas- 
 ure had been chiefly to observe ; and I had done that 
 so thoroughly con amore y that the things upon which I 
 had looked so long seemed to have become a part of me, 
 and separation was difficult and painful. Some of the roots 
 came up slowly, with the earth still clinging to them; 
 others broke off short, with a wrench ; a few refused to 
 do either, and subjected their tough and elastic fibre to 
 the strain of a voyage over the sea, and the long tension, 
 and possible attenuation and decay, of a term of slow- 
 rolling years. Nevertheless, I realized that this inde- 
 structible tendency of the human heart to send forth 
 roots and tendrils, wherever it is transplanted, is a 
 comfortable endowment. For Life separates friends 
 and exiles patriots. And what were the stress of home- 
 sickness, if the affections had no inalienable faculty of 
 continuous reproduction and growth ! 
 
 We left Matanzas at ten o'clock, a.m. We have it 
 on the authority of Rob Roy McGregor that no wise 
 
280 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 man returns by the same road he came, provided another 
 be open to him ; and although we have not the same 
 excellent reasons for preferring a different route as the 
 Scotch freebooter (who doubtless found inconvenient 
 reckonings to settle on any twice-trod path), there is a 
 deep philosophy in his maxim to which we are not 
 insensible. So we take the nearer and shorter route to 
 Havana, by Regla. The road is not so picturesque as 
 the other, nor yet wholly devoid of interest. Every- 
 where there is a wide, unwavering level of nower-paven 
 valley, or silent, sun-parched plain, stretching away to a 
 rugged outline of distant hills, on which the blue arch 
 of the sky rests tremulously. And such a blue ! the 
 delicate depths of which seem evermore opening before 
 our fascinated gaze, until we a^e ready to believe that, 
 if we could only look long enough, and purely enough, 
 we might behold the jasper foundations and pearly 
 gates of the heavenly city. 
 
 The railroad was as straight as a bird's homeward 
 flight, involving no triumphs of engineering skill in its 
 construction. Looking from the rear car, we saw two 
 lines of rail run back, perfectly straight and level, for 
 miles, until they met in the distant vanishing point of 
 the perspective. Only once did we pass through any 
 considerable cutting ; but that keeps fast hold of my 
 memory in virtue of the profusion of delicate ferns that 
 clung to every nook and cleft of its rough sides, — the 
 loveliest, I thought, in the fleeting glimpse I had of 
 them, that I had ever seen. And since it was impossible 
 to subject them to the disenchantment of actual touch 
 
WAITING IN HAVANA. 281 
 
 and inspection, they are still preserved in the intangible 
 and ineffaceable beauty of a passing, poetic vision. 
 
 Regla, the terminus of the railway, is a quaint, slov- 
 enly suburb of Havana, on the opposite bank of the 
 harbor. Passing through it, we saw a swift panorama 
 of ill-paven streets, and shabby, old houses, with a 
 picturesque chronology of stain and patch on their stuc- 
 coed walls ; and through their open doorways we caught 
 glimpses of half-naked children rolling on the stone floors, 
 gambolling and quarrelling, and of untidy mothers, 
 lolling in rocking-chairs. Its chief objects of interest 
 are found on the water-front,— certain immense ware- 
 houses of stone and iron, for the storage of sugar, 
 molasses, coffee, etc. They are built in a continuous 
 range, fifty-eight in number, with a depth of over three 
 hundred feet. A statue of their designer, an enterprising 
 Cuban, Don Eduardo Fesser by name, is one of the 
 chief ornaments of the place. 
 
 We crossed from Regla to Havana by a steam ferry. 
 On the landing we were beset by a band of brigands 
 (commonly termed " hackmen "), one of whom suc- 
 ceeded in forcing us into a nondescript vehicle, yclept a 
 " victoria," tumbled my trunks upon the box, climbed 
 atop of them, and rattled off at a reckless rate to a 
 building that looked like a stronghold of the Middle 
 Ages, but was really the " Hotel Santa Ysabel," once the 
 residence of a Spanish nobleman. The street-front was 
 penetrated by a heavy archway, leading to a central 
 court. It was impossible not to notice the thickness of 
 the walls, and the care taken to render the place inac-r 
 
282 Mr WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 cessible from the street. The stout folding doors at the 
 entrance looked fitter for a fortress than a peaceable 
 dwelling, and the windows w r ere defended by thick iron 
 bars. 
 
 The court had been roofed over and made to serve 
 as a public dining-room. It was filled with small tables, 
 and in its centre was a pretty piece of rock-work, with 
 ferns and flowers growing out of it, and jets of water 
 falling into a basin, w T here I caught the glancing gleams 
 of gold-fish. The rooms on the ground-floor, opening 
 on the court, were used for storerooms and offices. On 
 the right of the entrance, a broad stone staircase led to 
 the second floor. A large parlor extended across the 
 front, with a balcony overhanging the street. A gallery 
 ran around the court, upon which the sleeping-rooms 
 opened. These were originally spacious, but had each 
 been divided, to suit hotel purposes, into four small 
 rooms, by partitions eight or nine feet high ; so that the 
 occupants of contiguous rooms could not avoid hearing 
 each other's movements and conversation. It mattered 
 little now, however, as the hotel was well-nigh deserted. 
 Yellow fever had appeared in the city two weeks before, 
 and was followed by the usual stampede of foreigners. 
 
 No bells, but, in lieu thereof, the privilege of leaning 
 over the gallery rails and shouting, " Criadof" "mit~ 
 chachof" or anything you like, until somebody comes. 
 Doing this, I evoke from the depth below a certain idiotic 
 negro, who tells me he is called "Pablo," but whom I 
 shall denominate " Stupido," out of respect to the Apos- 
 tle to the Gentiles, and a preference for giving things 
 
WAITING IJY HAVANA. 283 
 
 their right names. I explain to him, with great circum- 
 stantiality, to prevent mistakes, that I want my small 
 trunk brought immediately to my room, and the large 
 one stored until my departure. After a long interval, 
 there is great confusion and turmoil in the gallery, — a 
 sound of thumping, and scratching, and scraping, that 
 seems to threaten the speedy demolition of something, — 
 and looking out, I discover my ark of a travelling trunk 
 slowly approaching on Stupido's head ; albeit doing its 
 best to meet its owners wishes by thrusting a corner into 
 every doorway, and catching on every projection. I con- 
 front the bearer and reiterate my directions. The trunk 
 retrogrades ; but in course of time I hear it advancing 
 up the opposite gallery, in the same unwilling manner. 
 I bar the passage, and request to know what is to be 
 done with it now. Stupido opines that if the seilora 
 does not want it, the senor must, and is taking it to 
 Juan's room. " Put it in the baggage room," I repeat. 
 "But, seilora, there is no baggage room." "Put it 
 where you like then," I exclaim, in a rage, " but do not 
 let me see it above stairs again, or you'll not get so 
 much as a media for your trouble." The trunk wheels 
 about, and recedes. Ten minutes later, Stupido brings 
 me an unknown v^alise. I remand that, and the right 
 thing comes at last, — chiefly, I suspect, because there is 
 nothing else to bring. 
 
 On the broad landing, at the head of the grand stair- 
 case, a Spanish Don is reading the " Diario," with that 
 air of owning, not only the hotel and the city, but the 
 whole island, and a considerable part of the universe 
 
284 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 besides, which is characteristic of most of the u penin- 
 sulanos " (natives of Old Spain) in Cuba. His wife is in 
 the parlor, — "fat and forty," certainly, — but not the 
 most inveterately idealistic mind could think her " fair." 
 Her son Pepito, a little man of four or five years of age, 
 and of preternatural grimness and gravity of aspect, 
 prowls about with one corner of his small " capa" 
 thrown over his shoulder, after the manner of the tradi- 
 tional stage-bandit, and with the air of being continually 
 on the watch for a foe. These, and a half-dozen com- 
 mercial agents, make up the sum total of the hotel's 
 guests. 
 
 The Dona intermits her contemplation of the oppo- 
 site wall, on my entrance, and enters languidly into 
 conversation. She thinks the 4- mei *i cans a charming 
 people, but confesses that the spectacle of their activity ' 
 and energy is almost too much for her nerves. She 
 reports the hotel intolerably dull, and emphasizes the 
 statement with a yawn. She complains that Stupido is 
 seldom in the way of her orders, and systematically 
 misunderstands them, when he is. Finally, she discovers 
 that Pepito has slipped out, and is moved to utter a 
 Jeremiade on his account. "That child," she says 
 dolefully, " has the most incredible faculty for getting 
 into mischief; he keeps my nerves continually on the 
 stretch. If you should encounter him on your way, will 
 you do me the inestimable favor to send him back ? " 
 
 At the farther end of the gallery a bedroom door is 
 suddenly flung open, Pepito is somehow ejected, a mo- 
 mentary vision of a wrathful hand and boot appears on 
 
WAITING IN HAVANA. 285 
 
 the threshold, and the door closes with a hang. Seeing 
 me on the scene, Pepito heroically resists his inclination 
 to cry, picks himself up, folds his capa majestically 
 around him, and makes a dignified retreat. Soon after, 
 a smothered sound of sobs and cries attests that he has 
 found his mother's bosom, and given a natural vent to 
 his wounded feelings. 
 
 There was as yet no sign of the American steamer 
 which was to bear me and my fortunes from Cuba, nor 
 for the two following days ; meanwhile, we killed time 
 by visiting such places of interest as we had not seen 
 before, or desired to see again. The weather was fear- 
 fully hot ; nevertheless, we sturdily adventured through 
 the close streets and fervid sunshine, in the face of much 
 good-natured remonstrance from people who believe 
 that all Americans who put foot out of doors before 
 four o'clock, at this season, deliberately offer themselves 
 as candidates for the yellow fever. We spent hours 
 among the exuberant verdure and brilliant bloom of the 
 Botanic Garden, — steadily declining, however, to make 
 any acquaintance with the stiff, unwieldly Latin names, 
 whereby the gardener would have introduced them to 
 us, — and noting how difficult it is to keep tropical nature 
 pruned and trimmed to any semblance of order. "We 
 painfully toiled up the winding stair of the Cathedral's 
 bell-tower, and deciphered the dates and legends of the 
 bells; one of which is hundreds of years old, and as 
 divinely sweet of tone as if it had continually fed and 
 ripened on the echoes of its own melody. We invaded 
 the quarters of the bell-ringer, opening on the leads, and 
 
286 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 with a magnificent outlook over city and bay — a delight- 
 ful sanctwn for a bookish man or woman, — and found that 
 personage employing his leisure, and eking out his in- 
 come, with the manufacture of cigars. We'" descried the 
 mural tablet at the corner of the " Calle del Obispo" 
 and learned that, just one hundred years ago, Doiia 
 Maria Cepero, daughter of the then Governor, was killed 
 by the accidental discharge of a gun, while kneeling at 
 her devotions near this spot, — a record from which the 
 lapse of a century had stolen all the sadness, and made 
 it read like a song of triumph. We stormed the Morro 
 with the magic words " An American lady who desires 
 to see the interior," were admitted without the required 
 official permit, and introduced to a dozen huge guns, 
 collectively known as the " Twelve Apostles." and indi- 
 vidually as " San Mateo" " San Marcos" " San Lucas" 
 etc. ; also to much solid, Cyclopean masonry ; also to 
 the view of city, shipping, and ocean, from the para- 
 pet ; also to the quarters of the garrison, cool as a cave 
 (and almost as dark), by reason of the thickness of 
 the walls ; also to " The Lantern," a little room where 
 the signals, flags, telescopes, etc., are kept, and just 
 above which is the beacon, visible forty miles at sea. 
 Here, an official in shoulder straps, with a cigar in his 
 mouth, graciously exhibited what little there was to be 
 seen; but his eyes nearly jumped out of his head when 
 he saw me take out my note-book. "Do you know 
 what you are doing?" said he. "All writing and 
 sketching are strictly forbidden in and about the Morro, 
 on pain of fine and imprisonment." Finally, we climbed 
 
WAITING IX HAVANA. 287 
 
 the long slope to the Cabana fortress, where we saw 
 more masonry, more guns, more soldiers, and more views. 
 This is the great stronghold of the island, and is said to 
 be one of the finest fortifications in the world. The offi- 
 cer of the guard obligingly furnished us with an intelli- 
 gent guide, who showed us through quarters, barracks, 
 storehouses, casemates, and water-batteries, made us note 
 the exceeding thickness of the walls, pointed out the many- 
 fine views from the parapets, informed us that the fortifi- 
 cation was completed in 1771, at a cost of forty millions, — 
 in those days an incredible sum, — and related an anec- 
 dote in point. Charles III., being then king of Spain, 
 no sooner received the report of this enormous expends 
 ture, than he seized a spy-glass, and began to scan the 
 western horizon. "May I asl$: what your Majesty is 
 looking for?" inquired his wondering minister. "For 
 the Cabafias" quietly replied the monarch ; — " if it cost 
 as much as that, it ought to be large enough to be seen 
 at any distance." 
 
 Then we proceeded to the " Uhiversidad de Belen" 
 formerly a Franciscan monastery, but since 1854 the 
 Royal College of Havana, under the^ direction of the 
 " Society of Jesus." It is a fine group of buildings, in 
 the form of a hollow square, built of tawny yellow 
 stone. The inmates consist of a rector, sixty or seventy 
 clerical and lay brethren, and above three hundred 
 pupils. The entire labor of the institution is performed 
 by the brethren, — from the celebration of a mass in the 
 chapel and the giving of instruction in the scientific 
 and classic departments, down to the cooking of food 
 
288 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 and the sweeping of corridors. One of them acted as 
 guide. He was a dark, slight,, low-voiced man, speaking 
 English fluently, with an aspect of gentle scholarliness, 
 and refined, courteous manners. His head was shaven, 
 and fringed with short, black hair, and he was habited 
 in the dress of the order, — a long cassock of coarse 
 black cloth, with a cape, buttoned close to the throat, 
 and not a line of white about it anywhere ; — all of 
 which produced a singularly illusive and spectral effect, 
 making me feel, while conversing with him, that I was 
 talking across a gulf not less wide than the one which 
 divides our age from that of Ignatius Loyola. 
 
 First, he showed us the Cabinet of Natural History, 
 containing collections of minerals, shells, fossils, birds, 
 insects, native woods, coins, e:c, etc. ; apologizing — ■ 
 very unnecessarily — for their incompleteness, on the 
 score of their comparative youth. For there was much 
 more of them than my receptivity could take in and 
 assimilate, in the short examination we gave them ; and 
 I felt so fearfully overgorged at the end, as to excite a 
 profound pity for visitors to the cabinets and museums 
 of the twentieth century. It is to be hoped that the 
 working of the inevitable law of decay may clear out 
 some of the rubbish, even from these cherished accumu- 
 lations, and so lighten their labor! Then he led us 
 solemnly through the library, the books being all under 
 lock and key, — a discreet measure, I concluded, to pre- 
 vent the minds of the younger brethren from going 
 astray among such profane authors as Yoltaire, Hous- 
 seau, Boccacio, and Byron, whose names I saw on the 
 
WAITING 22V HAVANA. 289 
 
 imprisoned volumes. Next, we inspected the labora- 
 tory, the observatory, and the philosophic apparatus; 
 and our guide lingered over the exhibition of a fine 
 telescope with a kind of fatherly tenderness, indicative 
 of great familiarity with its use. So I said to him, out 
 of pure mischief, desiring to see if the settled gravity of 
 his face was altogether imperturbable, — " I forget, just 
 now, whether the Jesuits had anything to do with the 
 sentence and imprisonment of Galileo ? " 
 
 " My memory is much too modest to presume to prompt 
 yours," he answered, with a keen glance, an amused 
 quiver of the corners of the mouth, and a bow so much 
 better suited to the court of Louis Fourteenth than to 
 the bare scientific sanctum of a Jesuit College, that it 
 silenced me forthwith. 
 
 Then we examined the dormitories, — a vast and lofty 
 hall, divided by low partitions, into spaces just large 
 enough to admit an iron bedstead, a chair, and a table. 
 The whole place might have been the headquarters of 
 the fairy Order for neatness and regularity ; but there 
 was also a bareness and rigidity about it which spoke 
 powerfully of the severity and asceticism of a monastic 
 institution. Finally, we saw the chapel. It is not large, 
 has an open floor of marble, a gallery, a small organ, a 
 high altar of colored marbles, decorated with flowers, 
 images, crosses, and relics, and a smaller altar in the 
 sacristy behind, where an undying lamp burns before 
 the place where the Host is kept. In the vestry, we were 
 shown some gorgeous priestly vestments, adorned with 
 jewels. The lace on one of these is said to have cost three 
 13 
 
290 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 thousand dollars, and was the gift of a Spanish lady of 
 rank. 
 
 Toward sunset, we drove on the Pasco de Tacon, 
 and found the same stream of v olenites and black eyes 
 and gay dresses flowing through it, that was described 
 in an early chapter. At least, if not made up of the 
 same individual waves, there was precisely the same 
 general form of flood. The spectacle was too familiar to 
 have any potent attraction for us, so we extended our 
 drive "beyond it, to a little eminence where we could 
 look out upon the ocean, over a sunset-reddened plain, 
 sprinkled with the soft glooms and columnar, trunks of 
 palm-trees. Forgive me if my eyes and my imagination 
 linger among them. For the palm is the concrete tropic, 
 and the essence of the Orient. Over it the sky iias a bluer 
 depth and more velvet softness than elsewhere ; under 
 it waters lapse more dreamily musical. All the sweet 
 old Bible pictures have it for a back-ground ; and 
 wherever it grows, Cleopatra, and Memnon, and the 
 Kile, seem not afar off. Moreover, it is the symbol of 
 peace — that gentle gift of God which, when we have 
 tried love and joy, and found them wanting, solaces our 
 aching hearts, and leads us up to the very gate of 
 Heaven. 
 
 Furthermore, Humboldt, whose authority is final in 
 such matters, names the palm the " crown of the vege- 
 table creation." On the island of Cuba alone, there are 
 over sixty varieties ; furnishing fruit, wine, oil, thatch, 
 drinking-cups, hats, fans, firewood, and fibre for coarse 
 cloth and matting, to the inhabitants ; and, I doubt not, 
 
WAITING IN HAVANA. 291 
 
 a hundred other uses lie dormant in their stately trunks 
 and graceful boughs, waiting for a more enterprising 
 race to find them out. 
 
 We devoted the following clay to getting an idea of 
 the suburbs of Havana. Marinao is a pretty, airy vil- 
 lage, much resorted to by the wealthy Habaneros^ during 
 the summer months. It has a close-built main street, 
 with the usual variety of shops, inns, and restaurants ; 
 it has several pleasant, bowery lanes, and many hand- 
 some country seats, half-hidden in tropical foliage and 
 flowers ; and it has a palmy hill-top, commanding a fine 
 view of the adjacent country, the spires of Havana, and 
 the blue sea. It has also a somewhat dilapidated min- 
 eral spring, around which we found a nondescript crowd 
 of water-carriers, filling small casks with its cool, but 
 not overclear, flow, to supply their customers in the 
 village. 
 
 Puentes Grandes is about halfway between Havana 
 and Marinao, and, though considerably smaller, greatly 
 resembles the latter place in character. 
 
 Guanabacoa, on the eastern side of the bay, is one of 
 the oldest towns on the island, and is proportionably solid, 
 squalid, and antiquated.- Its population numbers eight 
 thousand, it has a cathedral (so called), a convent, two 
 markets, &plaza^ and a queer old cemetery and church. 
 Its chief attraction is found, however, in the mineral 
 baths of Santa Rita, which enjoy a high reputation for 
 curative power in various nervous and bilious disorders. 
 The buildings are of stone, with tiled floors and stone 
 basins, are tolerably well arranged, and are kept in good 
 
202 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 order. A noticeable feature, to a foreigner, is the num- 
 ber of shrines, appropriately decorated with images and 
 flowers, prepared for the devotions and offerings of the 
 patients. 
 
 In all these towns, and particularly in ancient Guana- 
 bacoa, I saw much that would delight the soul of an 
 artist, — quaint balconied windows, — odd, lumbering 
 doors, — bowed and crumbling cornices, lintels, and 
 door-posts, — a great deal of picturesque dirt, in the shape 
 of richly embrowned and blackened walls, beautifully 
 besmooched roofs, and grimy interiors, — also, a sparkling 
 stream, a rustic bridge, a winding, shady path, — and 
 everywhere, palms ! But I had only a little time to look 
 at these things, and none at all to describe them; for 
 which, the reader, remembering* that most of them (or 
 something similar) have already appeared in these pages, 
 will not forget to be grateful. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 DEPARTURE. 
 
 Lj^ARLY the next morning, the arrival of the Amer- 
 ican steamer was reported; and indubitable evi- 
 dence thereof was to be found in the parlor, in the 
 persons of two lively ladies in round hats and short 
 dresses, and with a general air of capability and self- 
 reliance that has no place among the belongings of a 
 Cubanera. My heart warmed to the sight, — I had not 
 seen a countrywoman's face for months, — straightway I 
 went and introduced myself to them. I was received 
 most kindly, and we were presently in possession of 
 such facts, relative to each other's history and destina- 
 tion, as were necessary to a good understanding and 
 pleasant intercourse. My countrywomen were on their 
 way to New Orleans, and had taken advantage of the 
 steamer's touching at Havana to snatch a glimpse of a 
 foreign country and foreign ways. Already they had 
 explored half the city, on foot and unattended, and had 
 accomplished a wonderful amount of shopping. " How 
 ever did you manage it," I asked, seeing that Spanish 
 w T as an unknown tongue to them. 
 
 " We pointed to the goods that we wanted," replied 
 one, "and held out our purses to the shopman. He 
 
294 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 counted out the price if it was too much, we shook our 
 heads, and took back our money. If it was reasonable, 
 we nodded, and he kept the money and wrapped up the 
 goods." 
 
 Strange to say, they had not been cheated; but 
 whether it was due to their own sharpness, or to the 
 shopkeeper's pity for their apparent helplessness, is more 
 than I can tell. In the streets, they had met with less 
 consideration. "I have heard a deal about Spanish 
 courtesy, but I believe it is all a fable," said one of them, 
 indignantly. " The men and boys stared, and ran after 
 us ; and some of them shouted things which, I suspect, 
 we may be glad that we could not understand." They 
 were amazed to learn that their simple and natural 
 proceeding had grievously outraged Cuban notions of 
 propriety. 
 
 At three o'clock, the interpreter of the hotel escorted 
 us to the steamer. One victoria accommodated us and 
 him, and another preceded us with the trunks. Once, the 
 latter vehicle got considerably in advance, whereupon 
 our own driver was sharply bidden to " catch up ; " and 
 as soon as we were within hailing distance, the interpreter 
 hurled at his colleague an oath, an injunction to keep in 
 sight, and a threat, — a pregnant commentary on the 
 honesty of his class. This personage also procured the 
 " permits to leave," — certain bits of printed paper where- 
 by the government makes a final four dollars out of 
 foreigners. Looking at mine, I was amused to see, 
 among other provisions, that a traveller who brings his 
 wife hither, is not pernjitted to leave without her, unless 
 
DEPARTURE. 295 
 
 he presents her written consent at the Passport Bureau. 
 It must be conceded that despotism has its good side. 
 
 " We find the deck of the " Cuba " piled with crates of 
 oranges, and every empty state-room and corner stuffed 
 with bananas, now green, but expected to make some 
 advance in maturity ere we make our port. Fruit- 
 boats surround the steamer,- from which the passengers 
 lay in riper stores for their own use, during the voyage. 
 A forest of masts is about us, with flags of every nation 
 flying ; and one Spanish man-of-war, long, black, and 
 villainous-looking, is moored just beyond us. The west- 
 ern sky is radiant; on one side, a shimmer of sunset 
 gold is on the water, on the other, a line of silver from 
 the rising moon. The last trunk is lifted on board, the 
 revenue officer departs, the anchor is up, and the vessel 
 moves. Slowly we leave the fair city behind; more 
 swiftly we pass the Cabana, the Morro, and the Punta 
 fortresses, and slide out upon the open sea, followed by 
 the sound of the evening drum-beat from their walls. 
 Behind us, is a wavy, hazy outline of green and gold ; 
 before, the wide expanse of the heaving ocean. On a 
 neck of land, a tall palm comes out to look at us, and 
 bends its plumy crest as with a last adieu. Farewell, 
 tree beautiful and beloved! Farewell! sweet "Island 
 of Flowers ! " Farewell, dear, hospitable, indolent, 
 kindly, courteous people ! 
 
 And now, O, Home-Faces ! vessel and heart beat 
 steadily toward you ! 
 
 Go to Cuba, friends and readers mine, all of you who 
 
296 MY WINTER IN CUBA. 
 
 can. There are only four days — five, at most — between 
 you and its greenness, its goldenness, its grace, and its 
 grotesqueness. A much longer journey would not take 
 you into a land richer in all that is contained in that 
 pregnant word— foreign. If you go to England, you 
 find a country teeming with historic interest, and full of 
 a gentle picturesqueness, it is true; but far from un- 
 homelike in its English tongue and ways, and whereof 
 the scenes and images have been familiar, through study 
 or by report, from childhood. But in Cuba, language, 
 architecture, landscape, flora, manners, — all are new, 
 strange, and suggestive. Life becomes continuous pic- 
 ture and poem, through which you drift so inevitably 
 into dreamland, as to make it forever after uncertain 
 how much of what you beheld was of the aciual earth, 
 how much of the domain of imagination. Especially is 
 this the case in some of the old eastern and southern 
 towns, where the Andalusian (and through them the 
 Moorish) traits have been less exposed to the modifying 
 influence of the stream of foreign travel. Linger not too 
 long in Havana, therefore- better things — that is to say, 
 things less modish and more picturesque — are to be had, 
 for the seeking. Neither hurry from flower to flower, as 
 if there were never more a to-morrow, but sit down quietly 
 by each, and slowly extract its sweetness and its meaning. 
 So shall Cuba be to you a thing of beauty, in the pos- 
 session, and in the remembrance, a joy forevermore. 
 
 THE END. „ 
 
NEW BOOKS. 
 
 TO BE PUBLISHED IN THE FALL OF 1871. 
 
 MY WINTER IN CUBA. By W. M. L. Jay, Author of " Shiloh." 
 
 THE HOME AT HEATHERBR^E. A Tale by the Author of 
 "Everley." 
 
 LITURGY AND WORSHIP OF THE CHURCH OF ENG- 
 LAND. Discourses by the Rev. C. J. Vaughan, D. D. With 
 an Introduction by the Rev. H. C. Potter, D. D. 
 
 MY YOUNG DAYS. By the Author of "Evening Amusements." 
 With twenty illustrations by Paul Konewka. 
 
 A TALE OF A NEST. By the Author of " Little Animals," with 
 seventeen wood-cuts. 
 
 THE ROSE DALE BOOKS ; or, East Reading fob the dear 
 Little Ones. By Mrs. D. P. Sanford. 3 vols. Illustrated. 
 
 THEODORA. A Tale for Girls. By Emilia Marrtat Norris. 
 
 ADRIFT ON THE SEA; or, The Children's Escape. By 
 Emilia Marrtat Norris. Illustrated. 
 
 SUNNY DAYS; or, A Month at the Great Stowe. Illus- 
 trated. 
 
 THE GREY HOUSE ON THE HILL. By Mrs. Greene, Au- 
 thor of " Cushions and Corners," etc. 
 
 THE CHURCH CHORISTER. Being a Manual for Training 
 Singing Boys. By Walter B. Gilbert, Organist of Trinity 
 Chapel, New York. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE FOURTH GOSPEL. For the use of Bible 
 Classes. By the Rev. Wm. R. Huntington. 
 
 A QUIET HELPER FOR THE SICK. Text, Prayer, and Hymn 
 for four weeks. In large type. 
 
 E. P. DUTTON & CO., Publishers, 
 713 Broadway, New York. 
 
:by the s-a.3s^:b -a/uthoir. 
 
 SHILOH ; 
 
 OR, 
 
 WITHOUT AND WITHIN. 
 
 By W. M. L. JAY. 
 
 Fourth Thousand, l'imo, 488 pages, $2.00. 
 
 A Stor$ of Common Life; beautifully written, with quiet Pictures of New England 
 Farm and Parish Life. 
 
 " Its value as a work of fiction has been abundantly established. The struggle of 
 good and evil in us is skillfully drawn. It is one of the few fictions in which the 
 love-story portion is quite unnecessary for the majority of readers." — Church Jour- 
 nal. 
 
 " No praise of ours can add to the reputation it has already acquired. It is de- 
 lightful to get hold of a good, bright, thorough Church story, such as this, after 
 the dreary trash we are called upon to wade through. It is a permanent addition 
 to our Church literature, and should be in every parish library." — Pacific Church- 
 man. 
 
 " It is a sweet, simple story of New England country life, showing what one ear- 
 nest worker for Christ and His Church can do to build up the waste places, and kindle 
 into a flame the smouldering fires of devotion and work. A city girl, from consider- 
 ations of health, chooses to spend her summer at Shiloh, a country village, rather 
 than at Saratoga, the fashionable watering-place ; and this is the history of her life, 
 as written to her distant friend. The story is well told ; the characters are well de- 
 lineated: the pathetic and the humorous a*e skillfully blended ; and we have both 
 laughed and wept in reading it. We look forward with great pleasure to the future 
 products of the authors pen, and are very sure that her place will be an exalted 
 one among the writers of our time." — Maryland Church Record. 
 
 " ' Shiloh ' I like more than ever, and I greatly rejoice to see it in a permanent 
 form. It is an achievement — a real one — to write to the times and to write as one 
 should ; to write a story (so to speak), and keep up interest without cheap sensation ; 
 to write religious fiction, and yet to avoid platitudes : and all this you have done, 
 and I congratulate you. Now give us what Oliver Twist asked for — more." — 
 Bishop Williams, of Conn. 
 
 " I greatly like the atmospheric infusion, instead of the disconnected intrusion, 
 of the religious element, and the influence of the Church. There are parts of it I 
 should hhe to preach, and the whole book is far beyond any story yet written of, or 
 in, the American Church." — Bishop Doane, of Albany. 
 
 " ' Shiloh ' is a twofold success. The contention between Bona and Mala con- 
 stantly evokes valuable truths which strike us in a quite original light, and the 
 social and natural features of rural life in New England have rarely been more pleas- 
 ingly presented. The style is really charming, and pays the reader the compliment 
 of care in the choice of epithets and the arrangement of the thoughts: Like a well- 
 bred man, the author comes into the reader's presence in his best apparel." — New 
 York Evening Post. 
 
 " This is a book of decided merit. It is well written, and the authoress gives evi- 
 dence of unusual descriptive powers But ' Shiloh ' is also designed, we 
 
 think, to make apparent that no duty performed, no service offered, is too slight to 
 be acceptable to God. ' Whatever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy mi^ht ; ' 
 or, to use Mrs. Jay's words, ' The sterling usefulness of doing quiet duties in quiet 
 ways, unobtrusively and uncomplainingly, is one which, though the world may make 
 little account of it, God will surely bless and abundantly reward.' " — New York 
 Herald. 
 
 ; " « Shiloh ' is a novel with a purpose, and that, too, of the most exalted kind. It 
 deals in a spirit at once earnest and sincere, with some of the deepest problems that 
 can occupy humanity, touching here and there, with a lighter hand, upon social 
 
SIIILOH ; OR, WITHOUT AND WITHIN. 
 
 foibles and individual eccentricities. On the whole, ' Shiloh ' may be characterized 
 as belonging to the healthiest type of modern fiction, and, though possessing no 
 claims to striking originality in design or execution, as exhibiting a freshness of 
 sty le and sentiment that will commend it to the mass of reflective readers." — New 
 York Times. 
 
 '• We can award this book — what is, after all, our highest praise — a place among 
 our missionary books." — New York Mail. 
 
 "The scene is laid in a remote New England town, and the fortunes of a weak 
 parish are described. There is much cleverness in drawing a variety of character, 
 a--d some sharp contrasts are presented just such as one often sees around him. A 
 quiet, intelligent, and well-founded religious faith influences to a life that abounds 
 in good works, and the story suggests to readers how they may go and do likewise, 
 and benefit those that are around us. Even iu the sparsely populated country 
 there is ample field for domestic missionary work, and if 'Shiloh' is read as it 
 should be, it will have a beneficial iutiuence in inciting to these much -needed la- 
 bors." — Neiv York Commercial Advertiser. 
 
 " It has decided power and point in it, and we design to make some large extracts 
 from it, to give our readers a taste of its merits." — Neiv York Observer. 
 
 ." Its pictures of New England life and people are singularly faithful. Nothing 
 could well be more affecting than the story of Maggie Warren's death-bed. The 
 author has a fine artist-feeling which displays itself unostentatiously, but with a 
 pervading and delightful presence." — Christian Union. 
 
 " A more carefully written book we have rarely seen. Its composition has evi- 
 dently been a labor of love ; and every paragraph bears evidence of having been 
 written with the care which only a niau of leisure and of earnest thought can com- 
 mand. In many respects it is a remarkable book, and will amply repay the reader. 
 It is to be read ; not for the narrative, though that is by no means without interest, 
 but as a storehouse of earnest thought and valuable suggestion. " — The Citizen and 
 Round Table. 
 
 ' ' In order to get back ' the roses ' which a gay and tiresome New York winter, 
 together with some hidden heart-sorrow, has taken from her cheeks, the heroine has 
 come to board for the summer at a farm-house in the little village of Shiloh. And 
 we have, in this book, the history of that summer as she writes it out in letters to 
 a friend. After the summer is ended, she says : ' I came to it seeking rest. I got, 
 first work, then peace, finally joy.' And we know, when we have read her letters, 
 that the work was the doing of whatever good she could find to do among the people 
 with whom she was thrown ; that the peace was that quietness of soul which came 
 when she bad gained the victory over self; and the joy, the blessing of a love which 
 she had thought lost to her forever. In closing our notice, we repeat our convic- 
 tion of having been brought in contact with a writer of more than ordinary power, 
 with a deep, thoughtful, spiritual nature, which has imparted to • Shiloh ' so much 
 of its own intensity and earnestness as cannot fail to make the events of the story 
 linger long in the memory of the reader, and their many lessons help him very 
 often in his daily living." — Boston Daily Advertiser,* 
 
 " It is a sweet book, and the author has made herself a name by it. We beg her 
 to continue as she has begun. There is a high seat for her in American literature ; 
 and if she is wise, she will yet occupy it." — Providence Press. 
 
 " The style is singularly simple, clear, and graceful, while the interest and variety 
 of situation, incidents, and character, are such as to secure the reader's gratified at- 
 tention throughout." — Chicago Interior. 
 
 " We have been very much pleased with ' Shiloh.' It is written with power and 
 sweetness. It breathes throughout, a tender, pure, and Christian spirit, seldom ob- 
 truded in the sermonizing fashion ; but permeating the whole book, and giving it 
 what may be styled, a moral fragrance. The name of the author is unfamiliar to 
 us, but unless we are much mistaken, it is destined to become the name of a very 
 popular author." — Sacramento Record. 
 
 Sent by mail, postage paid, on receipt of price. 
 
 E. P. Dutton & Co., Publishers, 713 Broadway, New York. 
 
SUNDAY ECHOES IN WEEKDAY HOURS. 
 
 By MRS CAREY BROCK. 
 
 3 vols., in nice box, $4.50. 
 
 FIRST SERIES. 
 
 A Tale Illustrative of the Collects. 
 
 With an introduction by the Rev. J. Williams, D. D., Bishop of Connect- 
 icut. Twenty-five thousand copies have been sold in England. 12mo, 
 500 pages, $1.50. 
 
 "The tone of womanly piety and gentleness pervading the entire story, and the 
 simplicity with which the writer puts forth her ideal of boyhood and treats the 
 Prayer-book as if it were ' a guide to the play-ground,' will win the sympathy of 
 adult readers." — Athenceum. 
 
 " A book whictt we most cordially recommend." — Record. 
 
 " A story of a boy's life at school, very pleasant to read, and, at the same time, 
 very profitable. Many children who learn the collects every Sunday, without under- 
 standing them, m*y be led to study them with much more interest, by reading of 
 the usethat ' Cecil Williams ' made of them." — Young Christian Soldier. 
 
 "A story of a little boy's school-life, told in that quiet homelike style so generally 
 characteristic of English books for children, and for the most part so conspicuously 
 absent, from our own. The book devotes a short chapter to the practical illustration 
 of each of the collects of the Prayer-book, taken in the order in which they occur. 
 Any book that catches and shows not merely the marvelous beauty, but also the 
 spirituality and strict practical meaning of the collects, in a manner intelligible to 
 childhood and youth, is entitled to the highest praise. This praise we heartily 
 accord to the volume before us." — Christian Witness. 
 
 SECOND SERIES. 
 
 A Tale Illustrative of the Church Catechism. 
 
 Thirteen thousand copies have been sold in England. 12mo, 421 pages, $1.50. 
 
 ' ' To illustrate the whole Catechism by a fictitious narrative, so as at the same time 
 to exalt the doctrine and kuep the fancy awake, was a great undertaking. But it is 
 well executed, and we predict for the volume a large circulation." — Clerical Journal. 
 
 " As a story it is very interesting, while it enforces in the plainest, clearest, and 
 most satisfactory manner the full meaning of the weighty sentences in our Church 
 Catechism. A. little girl who found its study a repulsive task, because she failed to 
 comprehend what she learned, is led, in the story, through the sympathetic aid of 
 a kind lady, to love its teachings, and to mould her life by them. This book 
 deserves a place in every household." — Episcopal Register. 
 
 " We can unhesitatingly and heartily commend this work as sound, helpful, inter- 
 esting, and instructive." — Churchman. 
 
 u The perusal of such a volume may be worth more to some children than six 
 months of Sunday catechising by the rector." — Banner of the Church. 
 
 "It will bring the important lessons of the Catechism home to many, to whom 
 now it is only a dry detail of doctrines and duties." — Southern Churchman. 
 
 "All Sunday-school teachers ought to have this book, and will find the chapters 
 quite practicable to read to their classes, after each lesson." — Gospel Messenger. 
 
 " This is an admirable and exceedingly interesting book for the youth at home. 
 The mother who would lead her family heavenward, will find the hour or two every 
 week devoted to catechising and reading to her children, much enlivened by the 
 books of Mrs. Brock." — Standard of the Cross. 
 
 THIRD SERIES. 
 
 Journeyings of the Children of Israel. 
 
 Though issued but a short time in England, five thousand copies have already 
 been sold. 12rao, 484 pages, $1.50. 
 
 " The story itself is interesting, showing how Sunday teaching can be applied to 
 the temptations and difficulties which arise during the week. There is good, sound, 
 religious instruction in these Sunday Echoes, and much wise counsel, which may be 
 profitable to all readers, great or small ; and children will feel more interest in th« 
 Story of the Israelites after reading it, than they did before. " — Athenxum. 
 
 $3?" Sent by mail, postage paid, on receipt of price. 
 
 E. P. DUTTON & CO., Publishers, 
 
 713 Broadway, New- ork.