ed States
authorities stopped them. Marti then joined Gomez in Cuba and was killed
in a skirmish. He was succeeded in command by General Gomez, who still
fights on with a hungry, ill-clad handful of men against the best of
Spain's army. One hundred and forty-five thousand men have been sent
against him but he still fights; he still lives to fight, although he is
over seventy-five years old.

"I have told you of the dogged determination, the splendid patriotism of
the men who are fighting to lift the yoke of Spain from poor Cuba.
Surely there must be something more than mere political wrongs to
inspire such a spirit. You have heard of Weyler--'Butcher Weyler' they
call him, and he is proud of the title. Frightened by the courage and
resistance of the insurgent army, Spain looked about for a man capable
of crushing the indomitable spirit of the rebels. In Weyler she thought
she had found the man. He arrived in Havana in 1896. Among his first
acts looking to the pacification of Cuba was his order of concentration.
You have heard perhaps of the wretched 'reconcentrados?' They are the
product of Weyler's order. Under this policy nearly a million peaceful
Cubans, farmers and dwellers in the country, have been driven from their
homes into nearby cities and their deserted houses burned to the ground.
These people are mostly women and children and old men--non-combatants.
In this way Weyler sought to stop the aid that was being given to the
insurgents in the field. From the 'pacificos,' as they are known the
rebels could at any time secure food, clothing, and shelter.

"Concentrated in the towns, without food or money to buy it, and many
without clothing, these reconcentrados quickly became the victims of
famine and disease. A part of Weyler's order of concentration provided
for the gifts of ground to cultivate, and the Spaniard's answer to the
charge of inhumanity is a shrug of the shoulders and the reply that the
reconcentrados starve because they are too lazy to work. 'We give them
the land,' he says, 'and they will not till it.' True, they gave them
land, but no seed to sow and no tools to reap and they have no money to
buy them. Everything they owned is in the heap of ashes that marks the
spot where the little thatched cottage once stood. Thousands and
thousands of human beings are herded together like cattle, with no means
to feed themselves, and, unlike cattle, with no one to feed them.

"Why, I have seen--I have been t