dozen black fellows sprang over into the
water, and, taking us white trash on their shoulders, carried us ashore.
Once there we set out to find turtle eggs, and soon found heaps of sand
which, when scraped away, revealed the eggs in dozens. We took away
about a bushel, but they had a rancid flavor, so Gray and I backed out
of our promise to eat them, as did Senors Andrez and Mondago.

The man in charge of the boat was a skillful sailor, and, having a fine
breeze, we rushed through the water at a great rate. At last, after a
day of novel enjoyment, just as the short twilight of the tropics was
fading out, we ran alongside of the little pier of San Jose and were
welcomed with loud shouts and gun shots from about a hundred gaudily
attired slaves, who were excited and seemingly glad over the return of
their master, this being Sunday and a holiday.

Did any of my readers ever think what the rest of Sunday is to the
toilers of the earth? If Christ left no other legacy to the Christian
world but that happy day of rest, then must we still bless and praise
him as the Mighty Benefactor of the world, the Saviour and glorious hero
of the workingman. For nineteen years I toiled, exposed to every storm
that blew, and was sustained through all the six days' misery by the
blessed knowledge that Sunday, with its rest, was never far off. And
when the Sunday morning dawned and the happy consciousness filled my
mind that for one day at least I was free from toil, my heart filled
with gratitude to the Galilean carpenter, who, by his gracious deeds and
genius, had so impressed the hearts of men that for his sake they had
taken the seventh day of the Hebrew and bequeathed it as a day of rest
to all the toiling generations of the sons of men. The Roman Empire,
which overshadowed the world and held the nations in subjection, knew no
day of rest, and to-day the toiling millions of China never wake to say:
"This is a day of rest on which I can turn my thoughts to other things
than toil."

I must not here enter into details of that week of rare sport and keen
enjoyment in the Isle of Pines. We went shark fishing by day and tipping
turtles in the moonlight by night, when they came ashore to deposit
their eggs in the sand. One never-ending source of enjoyment to the
Cubans was the battles of the fighting cocks. I had got over some of my
repugnance to the sport, and enjoyed it almost as well as the cocks
themselves. How soon one learns to do in Rom