YES, I went to Cuba, and it was a ravishing experience. Not quite an Eden, but so near to being! There was not an American (i. e., a Yankee) of us all who did not fully believe it would be, once “Uncle Sam” held it in his sturdy grip. To the last man and woman and the best, we defiantly broke the commandment and coveted our neighbor’s possession with our whole hearts. It is the most unreal reality, the most dream-like substantiality, the most vision-like, sure-enough scrap of earth imaginable. I feared to shut my eyes, lest on opening them it would have vanished. It looked as magical an isle as that. Oh—h! Just writing about it makes me catch my breath and widen my eyes to get it all back again.

The unspeakable splendors of its tropical vegetation—not only avenues and groves of “lofty palm trees,” but vast forests of them; not only “lofty palm trees,” but countless others, gorgeous in a burst of bloom without foliage—not a suspicion of green mingled with that blaze of richest rose, scarlet, purple or white, as it happened to be; not trees only, but clambering vines, all aflower with such lily bells as made me rub my eyes to make sure there was no illusion; and oh! such vistas and vistas of “the wonders of creation” as made me marvel what surpassing them could be possible in any other sphere!

I wish you could have seen the sunrise as we steamed into the harbor of Havana, the city itself seeming to rise out of the water like “beautiful Venice,” and like it, fashioned by the cunningest conjury out of sunbeams, the colors of the rainbow, the ethereal elements of the blue empyrean, the crystalline layers of the atmosphere, the tints of time and the films of earth! Yes, and have stood, as I stood later, on the ramparts of the fort, taking in such a spectacle of “the kingdoms of this earth” as swept me into thinking it almost equaled that of the Great Temptation on the Mount!

I am forgetting to tell you of the trip. We took the steamer Niagara at St. Augustine. It was fresh and clean and very comfortable. Among our fellow-travelers were several who proved very companionable and courteous. The weather was bright, mild, delightful. There were several young Cubans, quite attractive in appearance.

Next morning I rose early and went on deck in time for the sunrise. It was wonderful. The “First Officer” said, “It is a rare sunrise,” which made me more than thankful to see it. After breakfast, I stayed on deck to see the gulf sights. Saw jelly-fish in great numbers; they looked like fungi. The coast of Florida was in sight all the time; also an occasional vessel, ship or steamer. At night, Cape Farewell light-house, the long wake of gleaming, flashing phosphorescent waves; Orion, in all his glory overhead, and the stars more brilliant than I had ever seen them. Remained up so late did not undress, as I wished to be on deck again at the earliest possible hour. At 5:30 the moon was in its last quarter; the sky a lovely glow. Just as the sun rose above the horizon, we were steaming into port. The spectacle was indescribably beautiful and unique. Fort Morro Castle, on its not high bluff, the circular sweep of the shore line, the city as it were rising out of the water, with its buildings so varied in size, style and color; the harbor filled with shipping and innumerable little craft shooting hither and thither, and the dazzling sunlight firing it all into a glory no words could catch!

We were quickly passed into a rude kind of gondola, and skimmed over the liquid interval between the steamer and quai.

What a medley of fellow-beings awaited us on landing! What a jargon of sounds! Everything so new and strange to us. A procession of cabs and victorias bore us our several ways. We went to Hotel Quinta Menida, kept by a young fellow-countryman in conjunction with some Cubans. The building is in the Moresque style, round a triangular court, arcades on this court to two stories. The entrance on the ground floor is under an arcade that goes round the entire exterior, into a lofty vestibule like those seen all over Europe. This ground floor is paved with great slabs of stone! the stairways and all the other floors with white marble. The ceilings are from eighteen to twenty feet high. Windows and doors are also very high and broad. On the halls there are double doors, a massive inside one, and a glazed outside one of half its height. This is for ventilation and privacy. The same massive doors open on the balconies with which every room is provided and the outer with marble slats, for adjusting the light. The two middle panes of the inner doors are on hinges, making them movable for the same purpose. There are no glass windows such as we have, but there are transoms in ornamental devices of stained glass, generally white and blue. The house has three stories, and a flat roof with a balustrade that can be used for promenading or sitting. The laundry is on one corner, and Chinese, blacks, children and dogs seem to be perfectly at home there. The view was fine and extensive.

We went over the whole edifice, peering into the rooms, corridors, etc., getting that “first lasting impression.” The parlor is an immense room, furnished peculiarly, one-half being in cane seat, sofas and chairs placed in the wall! Rows of flowers all around; a central rug, with a geometrical square of rocking chairs inclosing it, and a table in the center. In the exact center of the spacious room, another table, with a fixed number of chairs packed up close to it. On the opposite side, the same arrangement is reproduced in upholstered furniture, covered with white Holland. From the ceiling depended chandeliers and brackets of tropical blooms and vines, while the side walls were covered with great mirrors. The entire interior is white. As a room, it is certainly unique. I have never seen anything like it. The arcades on this parlor floor are full of small tables, where the meals are served, of which there are two, breakfast at 9 a. m. and dinner at 6 p. m. The dishes are the same for both, except the addition of soup for dinner. Oranges caught on a fork and peeled—it takes both practice and skill to accomplish this—are sucked, the pulp not being swallowed. Fried plantains are a disappointment, tasting as if they had soured before or in the process of cooking. A small panfish is exceedingly delicate and appetizing, and a very petite banana is delicious. Coffee is only tolerable. Can any anywhere compare with our own “home coffee?” Ice is manufactured and the supply is abundant.

One of the first things to do was to take an orientation drive. The temperature was perfect; a breeze, just warm enough, just cool enough, blowing steadily. The sky was tinted in pinks, green and gold. The city seemed an enchanted one. I half feared to close my eyes, lest it would vanish. The houses had caught the sky tints, being “in all the colors of the rainbow;” are painted so. The most of them are but one story or two stories. Arcades are the rule, some with columns of different color from the house. The windows, almost without exception, are unglazed, having instead a light iron grating. This is a most singular and curious feature. The inmates chat through them with friends on the outside, looking as if in prison. Mischievous or “venturesome” urchins clamber up and cling to the inside like birds in a cage. The Prado, quite recently laid out, and many of the squares, are beautiful and light up brilliantly in the very superior quality of gas. The streets were not thronged, as I expected them to be. There was a glorious “afterglow,” which gave us as long a drive as we wished. I got up at 2 a. m. to look for the Southern Cross, that same “First Officer” having told me it did not rise till after midnight. I saw it, to my great gratification. This was the second time. The first time was on the Nile.

One morning, we went out early “to go to market,” this being “a thing to do” in all cities of note. The walk was short, leading past one of the public squares, with few trees, but pleasant looking. There was a most miscellaneous crowd of people and “beasts of burden.” Horses (very small) and donkeys with immense panniers filled with every conceivable product and commodity; tows of them fastened to each other by their tails, and so covered up with their burdens only their feet were visible. Fancy the spectacle. The women were of the common and lowest classes, dark-yellow and black in color, wearing no bonnets, of course, but only some light veil over the head. Very few of either men or women looked clean. The market building was a large structure, well lighted, and exhibiting every known vegetable as well as all the delicious tropical fruits.

I had an experience worth chronicling. My watch was in its little outside breast-pocket attached by pin and chain, but in full view. A fine, open-countenanced man at one of the stalls touched me gently on my arm and warned me to put it out of sight. This was done in pantomine, as he spoke no English and I no Spanish, but was as “plain as words could say it.” I never felt or gave warmer thanks. The dirt and odors soon became unbearable, and we returned to our hotel just in time for breakfast.

We tried a shopping expedition with some other ladies and an interpreter—a very pretty Cuban—but it was not a success. Saw nothing characteristic but the mode of shopping. The goods were brought to our carriages and shown to us by the interpreter and a clerk.

One afternoon we went to the Cathedral; it was grey and rather picturesque, but what we wished to see was not shown, so we soon left. Thence we drove to the Gov.-General’s country-seat to see its noted garden, which went beyond expectation. We walked through avenues of stately palms, and saw tropical trees in bloom of which we had never read or heard. One, the Carolinas, had fringe-like tassels of blossoms in Magenta color, graduated from very deep to the faintest tint. The threadlike fringe was tipped with the deepest red and gold. This was one of those “without foliage or a suspicion of green.” The house is unpretending indeed, and the grounds only fairly kept up. Brought away several flowers and pressed them.

After our 6 o’clock dinner and a short reunion in the parlor, a party of us went to one of the most frequented of the public squares to hear the band and watch the crowd. The party consisted of a German gentleman from Chicago, of political and journal prominence, a Catholic priest from New England—his tongue shot with such arrows of wit and flashes of eloquence one could hardly keep back a “hurra! for old Ireland!” and two ladies beside myself. I fell to the care of the priest, and made merry over having a priest for a cavalier, as I took his arm. But indeed it was a curious experience.

We found seats and watched the kaleidoscopic show. One feature claimed special attention—the way the men and women kept apart. This is not more pronounced in a Quaker meeting-house. The priest pointed out the son of the Duke of Leeds, a tall, large, striking-looking man and a count. Indeed, the graphic, lively loquacity of the good “Father” added so much to our entertainment, we included him nolens volens in all our after movements. At 9:30 we went to a grand cafÉ and had lemonade, milk punch and wine. Oh! I must not forget to tell you my gallant escort presented me with a bouquet.

Next day we went to Cerro, a suburb of fine private residences with an “aristocratic convent.” We drove up to one of the handsomest places, and got permission to walk through it. This proved to be the residence of the Senator to Spain. His young son escorted us, as well as the gardener, and both were models of courtesy. They presented us with flowers and leaves, among the latter being that of the guava, which I have pressed. We could only drive around the Convent of the Sacred Heart, not having provided ourselves with any introduction. We gained admission to another residence, that of a Senor de la Costa. It and its grounds were a dream of beauty. But I must to other excursions, or I will never get away from Cuba.

One to a great sugar plantation—a charming drive from the city. This was under the auspices of the German gentleman, who had letters of introduction to everything worth seeing in the island. When we reached the entrance gate, admission was most decidedly denied. It took talk and time to obtain even an interview with the owner. Finally he came—a very handsome, young, distingue-looking man. At first he was most haughtily courteous and immovable—could not grant entrance. A recent experience with some ill-mannered fellow-countrymen finally explained this. In the absence of the family, they had gone into the house, invaded every part of it, despite the remonstrances of the servants. At last he gave way and at once became the most gracious of hosts, treating us as if we were specially invited guests. He went with us himself through all the works, showing and explaining, and we saw the full process of the sugar-making, from the feeding of the stalks to the mills to where it came forth in beautiful glittering crystals of golden-brown sugar. On parting, he presented each with a cornucopia of it, filled by himself in our presence. I shall keep mine intact as long as I live.

Another took in two plantations—one of bananas, the other of pineapples. We had the privilege of gathering from each for ourselves. A very small bunch of bananas sufficed, and we had them put in our carriages while we walked some distance to the pineapple plantation. None of us had ever seen one. It belonged to some native Cubans who had a cottage at the entrance. One went with us as guide. The plants were in regular rows, averaging from four to five feet in height, one apple to each rising in the center of a large cluster of stiff leaves that curve like those of the aloe, and have much the same appearance and coloring. The guide invited us to pluck for ourselves, each took one. We little suspected what “a big contract” even one was, as we gayly and proudly started on the return tramp, after having tried to see which could find the biggest one to pluck. Shifting back and forth, first one hand and then the other, began almost immediately. This did not help long. In a very few moments I was lagging and panting, and next, possessed with a fright and dread that the arms could not hold out and that I would have to drop my treasure. Then such a jump of my heart! A quick step by my side, a relieving hand slipped between mine and that stem held by such a despairing clutch, and voice and words that might have been those of my own special “good angel:” “Allow me to carry your apple.” But didn’t I! At the cottage, a feast of pineapples awaited us—peeled, sliced and laid in sugar-besprinkled layers. “Fit food for the gods” indeed! I wonder if they ever had such.

Just one more excursion, and I will have to sing:

This was to the caves, sixty miles by rail from Havana. A very early start was imperative, so we were at the station before it was clear dawn and partaking of a breakfast of coffee and rolls to serve the sixty miles. It was far from being a temptation to over-indulgence! The cave was a short drive from the railway and was made in a variety of vehicles; but the day was fine and our spirits elastic, and every moment seemed a special enjoyment, in spite of our lack of comfort. The cave itself awoke all our enthusiasm. Up pretty ascents, down into twilight depths, across fairy-like bridges, among subterranean wonders that exhausted exclamations, and panting and perspiring till my escort, the German gentleman, groaned between gasps, “I didn’t bargain for this!” Fortunately, at that juncture, we came upon one of the most extraordinary features, a large, magnificent, perfectly-formed organ. Striking it brought forth sonorous responses. A kind of awe hushed us into silence. The Bride, another of these extraordinary formations, next elicited unlimited admiration. She stood, gowned in white, with her filmy veil enveloping her, as if waiting for the bridegroom. By what subtle processes of congelation had nature fashioned anything so realistic! One could only gaze and question, and give homage, and leaving her presence, turn to look again and again, not hoping to see her ever again.

Do you wonder we were loath to leave the beautiful island? I said, “I have always been opposed to annexation, but Cuba! Yes, I own to wishing for it henceforth.”

I think I have never imposed a postscript on you. Now I am going to.

Looking over what I have written, I find I have omitted mentioning one thing of great moment. It seems that many of the planters are retaining in slavery a number of colored people who are really free, but ignorant of the fact. These, I presume, are the ones who come under the decree giving freedom to all slaves sixty or over sixty years old, issued by the Spanish government July, 1870. This is surely a crying injustice.

L. G. C.

Cuba, April 7, 1885.