sitors from the city. It is said to be a model establishment. The
house is large, in a classic style, and costly, and the Negro quarters,
the store-houses, mechanic shops, and sugar-house are of dimensions
indicating an estate of the first class.

On the way up from the city, several fine points of sight were occupied
by villas, all of one story, usually in the Roman or Grecian style,
surrounded by gardens and shade-trees, and with every appearance of
taste and wealth.

It is late, but I must not miss the Yumuri; so we dive down the short,
steep descent, and cross dry brooks and wet brooks, and over stones, and
along bridle-paths, and over fields without paths, and by wretched
hovels, and a few decent cottages, with yelping dogs and cackling hens
and staring children, and between high, overhanging cliffs, and along
the side of a still lake, and after it is so dark that we can hardly see
stones or paths, we strike a bridle-path, and then come out upon the
road, and, in a few minutes more, are among the gas-lights and noises of
the city.

At the hotel, there is a New York company who have spent the day at the
Yumuri, and describe a cave not yet fully explored, which is visited by
all who have time--abounding in stalactites, and, though much smaller,
reminding one of the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky.

I cannot leave Matanzas without paying my respects to the family to
whose kindness I owe so much. Mr. Chartrand lives in a part of the
suburbs called Versailles, near the barracks, in a large and handsome
house, built after the style of the country. There I spend an agreeable
evening, at a gathering of nearly all the family, sons and daughters,
and the sons-in-law and daughters-in-law. There is something strangely
cosmopolitan in many of the Cuban families--as in this, where are found
French origin, Spanish and American intermarriage, education in Europe
or the United States, home and property in Cuba, friendships and
sympathies and half a residence in Boston or New York or Charleston, and
three languages at command.

Here I learn that the Thirty Millions Bill has not passed, and, by the
latest dates, is not likely to pass.

My room at Ensor's is on a level with the court-yard, and a horse puts
its face into the grating as I am dressing, and I know of nothing to
prevent his walking in at the door, if he chooses, so that the Negro may
finish rubbing him down by my looking-glass. Yet the house is neatly
furnished and cared f