usiastic that they go on board; but I return to
my hotel and take a volante, and make my last calls, and take my last
looks, and am ready to leave in the morning.

In half an hour, the arrival of the "Cahawba" is known over all Havana,
and the news of the loss of her consort, the "Black Warrior," in a fog
off New York--passengers and crew and specie safe. My companions come
back. They met Capt. Bullock on the pier, and took tea with him in La
Dominica. He sails at two o'clock to-morrow.

* * * * *

I shall not see them again, but there they will be, day after day, day
after day--how long?--aye, how long?--the squalid, degraded chain-gang!
The horrible prison!--profaning one of the grandest of sites, where
city, sea and shore unite as almost nowhere else on earth! These were my
thoughts as, in the pink and gray dawn, I walked down the Paseo, to
enjoy my last refreshing in the rock-hewn sea-baths.

This leave-taking is a strange process, and has strange effects. How
suddenly a little of unnoticed good in what you leave behind comes out,
and touches you, in a moment of tenderness! And how much of the evil and
disagreeable seems to have disappeared! Le Grand, after all, is no more
inattentive and intractable than many others would become in his place;
and he does keep a good table, and those breakfasts are very pretty.
Antonio is no hydropathist, to be sure, and his ear distinguishes the
voices that pay best; yet one pities him in his routine, and in the fear
he is under, being a native of Old Spain, that his name will turn up in
the conscription, when he will have to shoulder his musket for five
years in the Cabana and Punta. Nor can he get off the island, for the
permit will be refused him, poor fellow!

One or two of our friends are to remain here for they have pulmonary
difficulties, and prefer to avoid the North in March. They look a little
sad at being left alone, and talk of going into the country to escape
the increasing heat. A New York gentleman has taken a great fancy to
the volantes, and thinks that a costly one, with two horses, and
silvered postilion in boots and spurs and bright jacket would eclipse
any equipage in Fifth Avenue.

When you come to leave, you find that the strange and picturesque
character of the city has interested you more than you think; and you
stare out of your carriage to read the familiar signs, the names of
streets, the Obra Pia, Lamparilla, Mercader