ently alarmed over the summons--it might mean anything--she
was unused to the coin of compliment; but we gave it freely, however,
and the next morning each of us did better, and when departing placed a
sovereign in her hand and made Senor Andrez promise to be good to her.

Our host grew his own tobacco and made his own cigars. These were famous
even in Havana, and Gray and I enjoyed them that evening. A number of
grass-woven hammocks were swung under a roof in front of the house. It
was delightful lying there watching the phosphorescent waves rippling or
breaking on the beach under the light of a full moon and listening to
the chatter or the songs of the black fellows who swarmed around while
smoking cigars worth the smoking. The negro children, shrill-voiced and
loud, were very much in evidence.

The air was delightful, and following the custom of the country we slept
in the hammocks without undressing.

The next morning, under a sunrise sky, which in its glowing colors
looked like the New Jerusalem, Gray and I made a break for the glorious
water that rippled on the beach. What a swim we had! We were the only
humans visible. All other unfeathered bipeds were asleep, and we varied
our bath by wandering around the beach in a state of nature, viewing
things generally, but a turtle pond held us fascinated. Stakes had been
driven down inclosing a space, and upward of twenty great turtles were
prisoners, waiting apparently with the greatest of patience to be
devoured--that being, so far as I can see, the ultimate destination of
all life--that huge procession to the stomach. The rocks tell us that it
began a good while ago, and it has kept up with crowded ranks ever
since. When the missionary landing in Fiji anxiously inquired of the
boss cannibal gentleman where his predecessor might be sojourning, he
was promptly informed that he had "gone into the interior." To "go into
the interior" is the decree fate writes in her book of doom and copies
on the birth certificate of all the breathers of the world.

[Illustration: SUGAR LOAF MOUNTAIN, View from Rio de Janeiro.]

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE PHILISTINES ARE UPON THEE, SAMSON.

I was very fortunate in my servant Nunn, he being devoted to me, a
resolute fellow as well, and thoroughly trustworthy. He felt very badly
over my leaving him behind in Havana. Nor would I have done so under
ordinary circumstances.

The day before leaving on the trip, taking him aside, but not w