but Mr. Hazard exaggerates little if at all in the matter of
their brilliancy.

While those referred to in the foregoing are the most notable features
in this particular part of the Cuban field, there are others, though of
perhaps less importance, to which reference might be made. Among them would
be the sponge fisheries of the coast in the neighborhood of Batabano,
and the numerous mineral springs, some of them really having, and others
supposed to have, remarkable curative qualities. A half century or so ago,
a number of places not far from Havana were resorts to which rich and
poor went to drink or to bathe in springs hot or cold or sulphurous or
otherwise, for their healing. Among these were the baths at San Diego, near
the Organ Mountains in Pinar del Rio; Santa Rita, near Guanabacoa in Havana
Province; others near Marianao, on the outskirts of the city; and San
Antonio, also in Havana Province. Most of these places now appear to have
lost their popularity if not their medicinal virtues. Some, like those
at Madruga, not far from Havana, still have a considerable patronage.
Something may also be said of earthquakes and hurricanes. The former
occur, on a small scale, more or less frequently in Oriente, and much less
frequently and of less severity in Havana. The latter come from time
to time to work disaster to Cuban industries and, sometimes but not
frequently, to cause loss of life and the destruction of buildings. They
rarely occur except in the late summer and the autumn.

Nearly a hundred years ago, Alexander Humboldt, a traveller and a
scientist, wrote thus of the island of Cuba: "Notwithstanding the absence
of deep rivers and the unequal fertility of the soil, the island of Cuba
presents on every hand a most varied and agreeable country from its
undulating character, its ever-springing verdure, and the variety of its
vegetable formations."

IV

_THE OLD HAVANA_

Among the many pictures, stored away in the album of my memory, there are
two that stand out more vividly than any others. The subjects are separated
by half the world's circumference. One is the sunsets at Jolo, in the
southern Philippines. There the sun sank into the western sea in a blaze
of cloud-glory, between the low-lying islands on either hand with the rich
green of their foliage turned to purple shadows. The other is the sunrise
at Havana, seen from the deck of a steamer in the harbor. The long, soft
shadows and the mellow light