ercedes--proposes to adjourn
for music and dancing to the reception-room--an apartment which is
little better than a continuation of the dining-hall; the boundary line
between the two chambers being defined by a narrow slip of wall.

The musical entertainments begin with a performance on the piano by a
sun-burnt young lady attired in a low-necked, short-sleeved dress, who
accompanies another young lady who essays a patriotic song commencing:

Cuba, Cuba! mi patria querida,

in which she assures her audience, in Spanish verse, that there is no
place like Cuba, and no country more fertile and picturesque than the
Pearl of the Antilles. This favourite ditty is called a Melopea, or
words without a melody--the words being simply 'spoken,' and closely
followed on the piano by lively music.

This song and another having been disposed of, partners are selected and
the Danza Criolla--a popular Cuban valse--is for the rest of the
afternoon (for it is still broad daylight) performed. The guests then
depart; and after a little conversation with Don Benigno and his family,
Nicasio and I are conducted by a black domestic to our dormitories. Here
we indulge in a siesta, and otherwise refresh ourselves till the hour of
dinner.

Those of Nicasio's friends who have been foiled in their attempt to
secure us for their guests, console themselves by exhibiting their
hospitality in other ways. We are overwhelmed with invitations to pass
the temporada, or season, at their estates in the country, and so
numerous are these invitations that, were we to accept them all, two
years would scarcely suffice for the fulfilment of our engagements.

During the first weeks of our residence in Santiago, the hospitality
which we receive in various ways is sometimes overpowering. Wherever we
may wander some unknown friend has anticipated our arrival, and secretly
provided for our wants. We turn into a cafe for refreshments, and when
we offer to pay for what we have ordered, the waiter refuses to take our
coin, while he assures us that our repast has already been paid for!
Subsequently we discover that the proprietors of all the restaurants and
cafes in the town have been instructed by some mysterious person or
persons not to accept payment from 'Don Nicasio Rodriguez y Boldu and
his English companion,' but to 'put it down to the account.' Whenever we
visit the theatre, the same pecuniary objections are raised; and upon
one occasion, the haberdasher