the hills, which were
full of cacti, century plants and thousands of other floral beauties.
Everything around us reflected the poetry of color and motion. The great
walls of the prison (el Carcel) appeared at the rear of the Punta, and
the hoary, weather-stained walls and towers of the cathedral were
conspicuous amid the many highly-colored houses of the city. The sight
of this strange and picturesquely colored town made me feel like
visiting the queer and lovely old Moorish cities of Spain, so charmingly
described by Washington Irving.

Havana has two quarters, the _intramural_ and the _extramural_; the
former lies along the bay. It has the narrowest streets and the oldest
buildings, dim, dusty, but poetic. The latter quarter spreads along the
ocean, and has the newest structures and widest streets, adorned with
palm and Indian laurel trees. The contrast from the moving ship appeared
very fine, and the glowing panorama was enriched by the presence of
stately men-of-war and merchant vessels from the United States, France,
Spain, Italy and other nations. Every mast, spar, flag and rope was
reflected on the dazzling waters. Through the vast collection of masts,
golden vistas were seen up the bay. Lovely isles and emerald shores
presented their wealth of waving palms, bananas, and tropical growths.
The fact of the thermometer being up to eighty degrees on this February
morning added immensely to the sense of enjoyment derived from these
luxuriant scenes. The booming of cannon from the Morro, the sound of
trumpets calling soldiers to their posts, and the whistling, laughing
and shouting of boatmen contributed no little interest to the picture.
Numerous boats sped here and there over the bay as our vessel anchored
in the basin outside the custom-house. Each one had some lively Cuban
boatmen and messengers from hotels, who came to row passengers to shore,
and solicit patronage for particular houses. The whole scene presented a
most animated picture, and the green, red, blue and yellow boats, with
the white-dressed, broad-hatted, dark-eyed occupants looked uncommonly
grand. When the health-officer came on board, each person was inspected
as to his sanitary condition, and then left to excited crowds, who
delivered their solicitations for patronage in excellent Spanish mixed
with a little broken English. Cards, bearing pictures of "the Hotel de
San Carlos," "El Teleprafo," "Hotel de Inglaterra," "de Europa," and
others were tos