groves of coffee and bananas, on Caffatal la Concordia, my present home, whilst rose-coloured flamingoes stretch out their wings to cool them in the morning wind; and little negro children, naked as God created them, leap and tumble about the green meadow, where smaragdus-green humming birds flutter gaily around the hybiscus flowers; I wing my way, in spirit, to “the green islands,” to the cool, shadowy dwelling where I heard the nightingales sing in the beech-woods around your Majesty, and convey thither, in these lines, my tribute of respect and devotion.
I can from Cuba, better than from any other point on this side the globe, speak of the New World, because Cuba lies between North and South America: the Anglo-Norman and the Spanish races here meet, for good and for evil, secretly and openly combating for dominion; and in the midst of this wonderously beautiful scenery, which belongs to the tropics (beneath which the greater part of South America is situated), beneath the tropical sun, among palm-trees and coffee plantations, one sees already the homes of the North American, railroads, and shops. The Anglo-American “go-a-head” here comes in contact with the motto of the Spanish Creole, poco-a-poco; and—will run it down sooner or later, that is not difficult to foresee.
While the impression of the scenery of North America, its people, and states, was still clear in the soul, it was a great refreshment to receive in this beautiful island, so strongly contrasting a picture as that of the scenery of South America, its people, and its states. For both belong essentially to the picture of the New World; and North America presents in scenery, culture, and manners, merely one half thereof. That Southern half, with its yet unorganised states, its chaotic popular life, its rich, grand scenery, its river Amazon, and its Andes, its palms, and its eternal summer, will still, in contact with the Northern portion, develope a glorious life,—not so strong, perhaps,
