ing behind a score or more of their number whose
backbone had collapsed or who for some other reason had decided to
return home immediately. It is, I believe, a veritable fact that more
than one of the intending colonists went back on the same boat without
so much as setting foot on the soil of Cuba. Probably examples of the
"chocolate eclair" backbone are to be found everywhere. One of the
returning voyagers was a tall, thin man of middle age, wearing a long,
red, sorrowful face. It had been apparent from the very start that his
was an aggravated case of home-sickness. He had shown unmistakable
evidence of it before the _Yarmouth_ had even left North river, and he
did not improve as the vessel approached the coast of Cuba. He rarely
spoke to anybody, and could be seen hour after hour kneeling in a most
dejected attitude upon a cushioned seat in the main saloon, gazing
mournfully out of the window at the stern across the broad waters. His
was about the most striking example of sustained melancholy that ever
came under my observation, and could not seem other than ridiculous in
that company. When we slowly moved away from the _Yarmouth_, I was not
surprised to see this man standing silently upon the steamer's deck. The
look of unillumined dejection was still upon his face. A man whose face
does not light up under the subtle charm of the Cuban atmosphere is,
indeed, a hopeless case, and ought not to travel beyond the limits of
the county wherein lies his home. There were others who remained behind
on the _Yarmouth_ for better reasons. Mr. and Mrs. Crandall returned to
New York because the company's sawmill, which he was to operate, had not
been taken to La Gloria and was not likely to be for some time to come.
Mrs. Crandall was the only woman passenger on the voyage down and had
been fearfully seasick all the way. Orders had been given that no women
or children should be taken on this first excursion, but an exception
was made in the case of Mrs. Crandall because she was the wife of an
employe of the company.

The departing colonists waved their good-bys to the _Yarmouth_, and the
little fleet was towed out to the entrance of Nuevitas harbor, about ten
miles, when the schooners came to anchor and the tugboat returned to the
city. Although it was but little past three o'clock and the weather
fine, the passengers learned to their dismay that the boats had anchored
for the night. The furrowed-faced old captain would take no c