the atmosphere feels oppressive, and is black with innumerable flies. We
come at last to the deepest part of the fortress, where 'criminals of
the worst description' (so the commandant informs me) are lodged.
Narrow, intricate passages lead to the different cells. Our guide points
out some of the prisoners, and invites us to look in at them through
their little square windows. Strange to say, he does not seem to be at
all conversant with the nature of their offences. 'Dios sabe!'
accompanied by a shrug of the shoulders, is invariably the commandant's
reply to any query respecting a particular prisoner. 'Dios sabe' may,
however, signify a great deal more than 'Heaven knows;' and, perhaps,
the commandant chooses not to explain himself.

We pause before a dungeon where it is said a Chinaman committed suicide
after six days' incarceration: self-slaughter among Celestials being
their favourite mode of killing care. An equally suicidal Chow-chow is
confined there now; but they have bound him hand and foot, and he lies
muttering in falsetto like a maniac. He would doubtless give something
for a little soothing opium!

My friend the commandant assures me that the vault I am now surveying
with such interest is unoccupied, and persuades me to pass on. But I
linger lovingly at the little square window, and take a fond look at the
interior. The theatre of my woe has changed in appearance, the company
having gone. But there still remain the empty benches!

'Whom have you had within the past twelve months?' I ask.

'Dios sabe!'

It is not the commandant's business to know where his prisoners are
quartered, or what becomes of them.

I apply afterwards for the same information to the captain of the
garrison.

'Dios sabe!'

The staff of officers engaged in the Morro service is relieved once a
month, and the captain I address has only lately taken the command.

'Dios sabe!' In the majority of cases, it is, indeed, Heaven alone who
knows what becomes of unfortunates in a country where law is directed
through the agency of military despotism, and where the disposal of a
man's life and liberty is entrusted to the mercy of a vain and
capricious commandant.

CHAPTER X.

GENERAL TACON'S JUDGMENT.

Pleasant Company--The Cigar Girl of Havana--A Tobacconist's Shop in
Cuba--A Romance of Real Life--Spanish Justice abroad.

My health being now perfectly established, I signify my intention of
returning to my compa