dirty and neglected back alley into what seemed to be a
jail, and found myself suddenly in a beautiful Moorish court, paved with
marble, shaded by graceful, feathery palms, cooled by a fountain set in
an oasis of greenery and flowers, and surrounded by rows of slender
stone columns, and piazzas twenty-five feet in width. The wealthy
Spaniard or Cuban wastes no money in beautifying the outside of his
house, because, standing as it does on a narrow, dirty street, it cannot
be made attractive or imposing by any possible method of architectural
treatment; but upon the ornamentation and embellishment of the patio, or
interior court, he lavishes all his taste and skill. The patio of the
Anglo-American Club was not nearly as large and attractive as the
courtyards of private residences on Heredia Street, to which I gained
access later, but as it was the first house of the kind that I had seen
in Cuba, it made a very pleasant impression upon me.

Upon presentation of my introduction from Mr. Elwell, the steward gave
me one of the best rooms in the club, but said that it would be
impossible to furnish me with food until he could get a cook and
servants. The club had been closed for weeks; all of its employees had
fled from the city, and he had been left entirely alone. I told him that
I would try to forage for myself,--at least, for the present,--and that,
if worst should come to worst, I could live two or three days on the
hard bread and baked beans that I had brought with me from the ship.
Refreshing myself with a bath, a cracker of hard bread, and a drink of
lukewarm tea from my canteen, I left my baggage in the steward's care
and set out to explore the city.

The only part of Santiago which then presented anything like a clean and
civilized appearance is that which adjoins the so-called "palace" of the
Spanish governor, on the crest of the hill at the head of Marina Street.
There, around a small, dusty, bush-planted plaza, or park, stand the
governor's residence, the old twin-belfried cathedral, the San Carlos or
Cuban Club, the "Venus" restaurant, the post-office, and a few other
public or semi-public buildings which make some pretensions to
architectural dignity. With the exception of the massive stone
cathedral, however, they are all low, one-story or two-story brick
houses covered with dirty white stucco, and would be regarded anywhere
except in Santiago as cheap, ugly, and insignificant.

In the course of my walk from