give a kind
word to them.

But it is sunset, and we must turn about. We ride rather rapidly down
the avenue, and along the highway, where we meet several travellers,
nearly all with pistols in their holsters, and one of the mounted
police, with carbine and sword; and then cross the brook, pass through
the little, mean hamlet of Limonar, whose inmates are about half blacks
and half whites, but once a famed resort for invalids, and enter our own
avenue, and thence to the house. On our way, we pass a burying-ground,
which my companion says he is ashamed to have me see. Its condition is
bad enough. The planters are taxed for it, but the charge of it is with
the padre, who takes big fees for burials, and lets it go to ruin. The
bell has rung long ago, but the people are waiting our return, and the
evening duties of distributing food, turning on the night gang for night
work, and closing the gates are performed.

To-night the hounds have an alarm, and Chartrand is off in the darkness.
In a few minutes he returns. There has been some one about, but nothing
is discovered. A Negro may have attempted to steal out, or some strange
Negro may be trying to steal in, or some prowling white, or free black,
has been reconnoitering. These are the terms on which this system is
carried on; and I think, too, that when the tramp of horses is heard
after dark, and strange men ride towards the piazza, it causes some
uneasiness.

The morning of the fourth day, I take my leave, by early train for
Matanzas. The hour is half-past six; but the habits of rising are so
early that it requires no special preparation. I have time for coffee,
for a last visit to the sugar-house, a good-by to the engineer, who will
be back on the banks of the Merrimack in May, and for a last look into
the quarters, to gather the little group of kneelers for "la
benedicion," with their "Buenos dias, Senor." My horse is ready, the
Negro has gone with my luggage, and I must take my leave of my
newly-made friend. Alone together, we have been more intimate in three
days than we should have been in as many weeks in a full household.
Adios!--May the opening of a new home on the old spot, which I hear is
awaiting you, be the harbinger of a more cheerful life, and the creation
of such fresh ties and interests, that the delightful air of the hill
country of Cuba, the dreamy monotony of the day, the serenity of nights
which seem to bring the stars down to your roof or to raise yo