scene which could equal this in poetic loveliness.

It is a fragment, surely, left of that Paradise from which our first parents managed between them to shut out their descendants for ever. We lingered long, wondering at the beauty of it all, quite unable to tear ourselves away. The sun, having passed through the closing phases of its daily course, became a ball of glowing fire, and quenched itself within a violet cloud. The moon rose and flooded the happy valley with golden radiance, so brilliant that only the stars in the larger constellations, such as the Southern Cross, were visible.

CHAPTER VIII.

CIENFUEGOS.

To my mind, Cienfuegos is the Cuban port which should, under a sensible and progressive administration, offer the finest prospect for future development and prosperity. The bay is extremely beautiful, and on its deep expanse the combined fleets of the nations might anchor in perfect security. Four rivers, which might easily be rendered navigable, the Damuji, the Salado, the Caonao, and the Orimao, flow into its waters. Here, in the brighter times to come, when the Spaniards shall cease from troubling and the rebels be at rest, will surely be the capital of a new Cuba.

Cienfuegos is on the direct line to Panama, and, once the isthmus is cut, must become of vast commercial importance. At present it contains less than 20,000 inhabitants, and its trade is of no exceptional value. It is not an ancient city. It only dates from the beginning of the present century, and derives its name from the celebrated Cuban general, Cienfuegos. The church, a very hideous edifice, much older than the town, contains a famous Madonna, whose robes of cloth of gold and violet velvet were presented by Queen Isabella II., and who is the object of many

L

pious pilgrimages.

The inns are fairly good, for Cuba. In one of them, La Fonda de Paris, I was nipped by a scorpion, and that hotel is consequently bound up, as far as I am concerned, with very unpleasant associations.

The country round Cienfuegos is far more interesting than the town, and a long drive enabled me to form the acquaintance of a very interesting type of Cuban-the Guajiro, or white peasant, who abounds in this part of the island, where many of them cultivate a few acres, and live a life quite distinct from that of the rest of the world. The Guajiro is generally of Catalonian or Andalusian origin. Many trace their descent a long way back to ancestors who came over to Cuba a century or two ago. As a rule, the men are handsome, manly fellows. They sit a horse as if born on its back, and seem, like the centaurs of yore, to form part and parcel of the animal. Their dialect, a mixture of Spanish and of African, picked up among the negroes, is exceedingly difficult to understand. The Guajiro used to be a slave-owner, and a terribly hard task-master was he, for if there is one thing he hates more than another, it is work. He enjoys sitting in the shade, smoking his cigarette, and lazily, drowsily, watching his female belongings at their labour. On the other hand, when roused to effort, he can perform miracles: ride heaven only knows how many miles, in the blazing sun, and build a palm hut in a few hours. Living from hand to mouth, rarely, if ever, taking the trouble to cultivate his tiny domain properly, the true Guajiro is a perfect

illustration of the fact that "man wants but little here below." His chief food consists of bananas hot, and bananas cold, of tomatoes, and other vegetables and fruits unknown in European markets, which are said to be both excellent and nourishing. He rarely touches meat, except pork, on which he mainly feeds, but he often catches fish for his dinner, and looks upon an iguana or a bull-frog as a desirable delicacy. When he is not a liliputian landowner, he earns his living as a herdsman, for, from childhood up, he has acquired a vast experience in the management of cattle and horses-and, above all, of niggers. Under these circumstances he is obliged to work. He hires himself out by the week or month, during the harvest season, like any other labourer, and thereby earns a fair wage, which he spends freely, on Sundays and fiestas, in the taverns, or in betting at cock-fights or at the bull-ring.

The Guajiro who owns a few acres of land is a far more interesting individual than his fellow, the hired labourer. He is so gloriously, insolently, independent. What cares he for the luxuries of life, if he have but a dish of bananas for his dinner, and a smart suit of clothes in his chest to wear o' Sundays? Six days out of the seven see him pottering about his farmyard, a magnificent dunghill, on which his brood of dark-eyed urchins flourishes in primitive costumes, and spends its time in festive sports, together with the family dogs, pigs, and COWS. On high days and holidays he makes himself very smart, dons his white "ducks" and his untanned pig-skin boots, his gaudy waistband, and his broad

brimmed straw hat. The rest of the time he wears his pants and his jacket only. A born musician, he plays the guitar, and often sings charmingly. Sometimes that modern wandering Jew, the Italian organ-grinder, accompanied by a monkey, stops in the dusty road in front of the Guajiro's domicile, and tunes up "Il Baccio," or the "Blue Danube Waltz," whereupon the Guajiro and his wife and their brood fall into an ecstacy of wonderment, and reward the musician liberally, being under the impression that his music is due to his skill and not to mere mechanical contrivance.

her way.

The Guajira (the Missis) is also a character in On her shoulders, poor soul, falls the burden of the heavier work, all except tending the cattle. She does the cooking, such as it is! She mends the family rags, and washes them, and looks after the skinny fowls-nothing on earth will fatten a Cuban fowl! Above all she keeps a vigilant eye on her mischievous flock of Guajiritos, who never learn to read or write, but sprawl about the filthy yard, or, when they are old enough, depart on joyous expeditions in the woods, to search for natural curiosities fit for food, such as iguanas, lizards, a large fat black snake, said to be very tender, and better than an eel, frogs as big as your head, and other such horrors, which the Guajira converts into succulent dishes.

The family mansion is built of palm branches, and has a rickety, earthquaky appearance about it, that may be very picturesque, but must be very uncomfortable. The whole family sleeps on the straw