our friend Parker, who was a
wretched sailor. Arrived in Havana, he was able to go about somewhat
with Dr. Howe. He had, however, a longer voyage before him, and my
husband and I went with him to the Spanish steamer which was to carry
him to Vera Cruz, whence he sailed for Europe, never to return. Our
parting was a sad one. Parker embraced us both, probably feeling, as we
did, that he might never see us again. I still carry in my mind the
picture of his serious face, crowned with gray locks and a soft gray
hat, as he looked over the side of the vessel and waved us a last
farewell.

The following extract from my "Trip to Cuba" preserves the record of our
mutual leave-taking.

"A pleasant row brought us to the side of the steamer. It was dusk
already as we ascended her steep gangway, and from that to darkness
there is at this season but the interval of a breath. Dusk too were our
thoughts at parting from Can Grande, the mighty, the vehement, the great
fighter. How were we to miss his deep music, here and at home! With his
assistance we had made a very respectable band; now we were to be only a
wandering drum and fife,--the fife particularly shrill and the drum
particularly solemn.

"And now came silence and tears and last embraces; we slipped down the
gangway into our little craft and, looking up, saw bending above us,
between the slouched hat and the silver beard, the eyes that we can
never forget, that seemed to drop back in the darkness with the
solemnity of a last farewell. We went home, and the drum hung himself
gloomily on his peg, and the little fife _shut up_ for the remainder of
the evening."

To our hotel in Havana came, one day, a lovely lady, with pathetic dark
eyes and a look of ill health. She was accompanied by her husband and
little son. This was Mrs. Frank Hampton, formerly Miss Sally Baxter, a
great belle in her time, and much admired by Mr. Thackeray. When we were
introduced to each other, I asked, "Are you _the_ Mrs. Hampton?" She
asked, "Are you _the_ Mrs. Howe?" We became friends at once. The
Hamptons went with us to Matanzas, where we passed a few pleasant days.
Dr. Howe was very helpful to the beautiful invalid. Something in the
expression of her face reminded him of a relative known to him in early
life, and on inquiry he found that Mrs. Hampton's father was a distant
cousin of his own. Mrs. Hampton talked much of Thackeray, who had been,
while in this country, a familiar visitor at her fath