look about for the
Alhambra. An air of rude grandeur reigns over these houses, the
architecture being Gothic and Saracenic. In the more ancient portions
of the town little picturesque balconies of iron or wood jut out from
the second-story windows, where the houses rise to the dignity of two
stories. From these balconies hang little naked children, like small
performers upon the trapeze, until the passer-by fears for their
lives. The travel in the narrow streets is regulated by law, and so
divided that only certain ones are used for vehicles going north, and
others for those traveling south. Thus, vehicles bound into the city
from the Paseo go by the way of Obispo Street, but must return by
O'Riley Street, so that no two ever meet in these narrow
thoroughfares,--a plan which might be advantageously adopted
elsewhere.

The rooms of the houses are lofty and the floors stuccoed or tiled in
marble, while the walls and ceilings are frequently ornamented in
fresco, the excellence of the workmanship varying in accordance with
the owner's means. The most striking peculiarity of the town-house in
Cuba is the precaution taken to render it safe against sudden attack.
Every man's house is literally his castle here, each accessible window
being secured with stout iron bars, reaching from the top to the
bottom, while bullet-proof doors bar the entrance,--the whole
seriously suggestive of jails and lunatic asylums. No carpets are used
even in the parlors, though a long rug is sometimes placed between the
inevitable double row of rocking-chairs. The best floors are laid in
white marble and jasper. The great heat of the climate renders even
wooden floors quite insupportable. The visitor is apt to find his bed
rather unsatisfactory, it being formed by stretching a coarse canvas
upon a framework, with an upper and under sheet. Mattresses are not
used by the natives, who reject them as being too warm to sleep upon,
but the liberality evinced in the shape of mosquito netting is as
commendable as it is necessary.

The public vehicle called a victoria is a sort of four-wheeled calash,
and it has entirely superseded the volante for city use. There are
thousands of them about the town, forming a collection of wretchedly
wornout carriages, drawn by horses in a like condition. The drivers
occupy an elevated seat, and are composed equally of whites and
negroes. The charge for a passage from point to point within the city
is forty cents in Cuba