with 'latest intelligence from the seat of war.'

At length a fatal piece of news reaches us.

Afraid lest the revolutionary mania should infect our town, the Spanish
authorities have subjected the mail bags from Porto Rico to an
epistolary quarantine; in other words, all our correspondence is
overhauled at the post-office, and any document bearing upon the
revolution is confiscated.

The central agent in Havana of the _New York Trigger_ is beside himself
when he finds that no more telegrams and news-letters are forthcoming,
and reminds me, per wire, of my duties. It is in vain to assure him of
the true state of affairs, and of my inability to supply him with the
dearly coveted 'intelligence.' He will not believe that my resources
for information are as limited as I represent them to be. One day I
receive a mighty telegram from him, acquainting me with the fact that a
contemporary of the _Trigger_ has actually published some 'startling'
news from the seat of war!

This fearful announcement is shortly followed by another dispatch to the
following effect:--

'If you cannot obtain the news required by remaining in Santiago, leave
immediately for Principe (our alias for Porto Rico). If no steamer is
ready, charter a sailing vessel. Collect all the information you can in
detail, and return without loss of time. N.B. Spare no expense. The
"Gatillo" (Spanish for "Trigger") thirsts for particulars.'

As no steamer is announced to sail before another week, I take the other
alternative, and charter a small sailing vessel.

I land in due time at Porto Rico. I seek our agent, Don Felipe, and
after some trouble, I find him--in jail! He is a native of the village
near the scene of the outbreak, and for some mysterious reason has been
arrested 'on suspicion.'

Assisted by the English and American consuls, to whom I have letters of
introduction, and using the _Trigger's_ dollars for the pockets of the
officials, I ultimately succeed in procuring the agent's release. Don
Felipe then produces press copies of certain communications which he had
dispatched by the last mail steamers, but which had been intercepted at
the Cuban post-office, and, after inviting me to lunch at one of the
finest cafes I have ever had the pleasure of entering, he accompanies me
over the town, where we collect the latest particulars respecting the
insurrection.

San Juan de Puerto Rico is a fine city. The houses are three and four
stories high, and ar