is worse than the
stings of twenty wasps. If the brother of that now squashed brute should
drop upon me, during my repose, from that roof (which I perceive is of
'guano' leaf, and admirably adapted for scorpion gymnastics), my
appearance at the breakfast-table to-morrow, and for days after, will be
hideous; to say nothing of personal discomfort and fever. Now, a
mosquito net stretched over you on its frame, effectually insures you
against such midnight visitors; and, if well secured on every side, will
even serve to ward off the yard and a half of 'culebra' or snake, which
at certain seasons is wont to invade your bedroom floor at night.

I am awakened at an early hour by Don Severiano's live stock, who hold
their musical matinee in the big yard exactly under my open window. The
bloated and presumptuous turkey-cock, 'guanajo,' is leading tenor in the
poultry programme. First fiddle is the 'gallo Ingles,' or English
rooster. Then come the double-bass pigs, who have free access to the
balcony and parlour. A chorus of hens, chickens, and guinea-fowls,
varies the entertainment; while the majestic 'perjuil,' or peacock,
perched on his regal box, the guano roof, applauds the performance below
in plaintive and heart-rending tones. Before I am up and stirring, a
dark domestic brings me a tiny cup of boiling coffee and a paper
cigarette, and waits for further orders. Don Severiano proposes a stroll
(he tells me) through his grounds. Our horses are soon led out, and we
bestride them, with an empty sack for a saddle and a bit of rope for a
bridle. Better riders than the Cubans I never saw in an equestrian
circus, and steadier and easier-going animals than Cuban horses I have
never ridden on a 'roundabout' at a country fair.

We come upon a sorry sight at one of the 'secaderos,' or coffee-drying
platforms. A young mulatto woman is undergoing 'veinte cinco' on a short
ladder: in other words, is being flogged. They have tied her, face
downwards, by her wrists and ankles, to a slanting ladder, while an
overseer and a muscular assistant in turn administer two dozen lashes
with a knotted thong. She receives her punishment with low groans; when
she catches a glimpse of the spectators, she craves our intercession.

'Perdona, miamo!'

The overseer laughs, and, turning to his visitors, offers his weapon
with a polite invitation that one of us will try our skill. We all
appeal to Don Severiano, and, at our earnest request, that humane
ge