means by which they might work well. Let them go out to labour to the sound of music and singing, and, perchance their labour may go on like a dance. The Europeans, however, believe generally that no labour can be carried on vigorously without day's wages, or—the whip!
Morning of May 8th.—I had my last great view of Cuba from the azotea of Alfredo S.'s house last evening at sunset. For the last time have I seen its beautiful palm-groves, its gay, showy bouses, its mild heaven, its bright blue sea. This afternoon I shall go on board the “Isabel,” and bid farewell for ever to the palms and ceibas of Cuba, to its cuculios and contra-dances, to its guadarajahs and constellations, to the African drums, songs, and dances, to its happy and its unhappy people, to its hell and its paradise!
I have taken leave of my good friends, have sketched the monument of Columbus on La Plaza de Armas, and this morning, for the last time, have I visited my beloved Cortina de Valdez, and seen the breakers dash around the rocks of Morro. On my return I called at a restaurateur's, to purchase dos libros de dulces, which I wished to give to the little girls. When, however, I was about to pay, I received back my money from the young man who stood behind the counter, with a polite “it costs nothing, Signora.” I fancied I had misunderstood him, or that he had misunderstood me, I therefore again offered him the money, but received the same remark in return. I then recollected the Spanish and Cuban gallantry, and looking round the shop I observed Mr. S. at some distance, near the door, and now it was quite clear to me.
“Ah, this is one of your Spanish tricks!” said I to him. He smiled, but evidently did not wish to be thanked.
One day I by chance admired a little basket which his wife held in her hand, and immediately I was obliged to
