around you! and here it is too hot for me; and heat is not much better than cold, particularly when one has a headache. But heart and soul are sound, and with them I embrace you in all love!
LETTER XXXIII.
How beautiful it is here, my little heart; how good it is to be here! In this glorious air, fanned by balmy zephyrs, in this light, excellent, and, in every respect, comfortable home—the house of Mr. and Mrs. B.—where I am now staying, I feel myself, as it were, living anew. I have now been here for a whole week, which has passed like one bright, beautiful day.
It seemed to me pleasant to leave that hot, dusty Havanna early on the morning of Monday the 16th, and there also I left my headache. I parted with it the night before, when I went to bed, and had a sound sleep. That kind, cordially good, Mrs. F. was up with me at five o'clock the next morning, and had coffee brought for me and herself from a Restaurateur's, because she would not disturb her slaves so early; and after having taken a heartfelt leave of her and her husband, I seated myself in their volante, accompanied by one of the youngest sons of the house, and my favourite, Frank. The calashero cracked his whip in the air, and we rapidly swung away to the railway station. I was glad when I, with the help of my young conductor, had got safely through all the difficulties and impediments of the railway, and was seated quietly in a spacious carriage. The carriages are built in the American fashion, because Americans constructed the railway and built the carriages at Cuba. All the windows were down to allow the glorious morning air free ingress, and although
