l hemp. The
colonists on shipboard, ignorant of the appearance of this tropical
product, at first took the hemp for pineapple plants, but soon learned
their mistake from one who had been in the tropics before. Viewed from
the harbor, Nuevitas looks pretty and picturesque, but once on shore the
illusion vanishes. Mud meets you at the threshold and sticks to you like
a brother. The streets, for the most part, are nothing more than
rain-furrowed lanes, filled with large, projecting stones and gullies of
no little depth. Sticky, yellow mud is everywhere, and once acquired is
as hard to get rid of as the rheumatism. The houses, in general, are
little better than hovels, and the gardens around them are neglected and
forlorn. When a spot more attractive than the others is found, Nature is
entitled to all the credit. The shops are poor and mean, and not over
well supplied with merchandise. The natives, while kindly disposed
toward the "Americanos," are, for the most part, unattractive in dress
and person. The few public buildings are ugly and there is not a
pleasant street in the town. And yet when seen from the harbor the city
looks pretty, mainly on account of its red-tiled houses, grassy hillside
slopes, and waving cocoanut palms. The author of the ancient saying that
"distance lends enchantment to the view," might well have gathered his
inspiration at Nuevitas.

If the inhabitants of Nuevitas have the quality of curiosity, they
clearly did not have it with them at the time of our arrival. Although
it is said on good authority, that the city had never before had more
than twelve or fifteen visitors at one time, save soldiers or sailors,
the natives betrayed no excitement and little interest in the advent of
two hundred American civilians. With the exception of a handful of
boatmen and a few fruit venders, not a person came to the piers to gaze
at the new arrivals, and in the town the people scarcely gave themselves
the trouble to look out of their open dwellings and shops at the
colonists. This may have been inherent courtesy--for the Cuban is
nothing if not courteous--but to us it seemed more like indifference.
The Cubans are certainly an indifferent people, and at this port they
appeared to have no object or interest in life. They dwelt in drowsy
content, smoking their cigarettes, and doing their little buying and
selling in a leisurely and heedless manner. The most of them pick up a
precarious living with but little labor