one of the comfortable berths which it contains. He is in
other ways so civil and obliging, that his company is altogether most
congenial during the voyage, and before our arrival in Cuba, we have
become the closest of friends.

I am alarmed to find that our steamer will touch at other ports before
reaching its destination; but Fernandez assures me that the voyage will
occupy much less time than it would if it were made in a sailing vessel,
especially in the present somewhat stormy weather. In short, if all goes
well, we shall sight the Morro Castle in less than five days.

In sorting his correspondence, the mail agent discovers some important
missives addressed to me. These, which he kindly hands to me, I find
come from the _Trigger's_ agents in St. Thomas, Jamaica, and other
islands; and contain some interesting intelligence respecting the
projected purchase by the United States of the Bay of Samana, together
with the particulars of an earthquake near Callao, a scheme for a
floating dock at Kingston, Jamaica, and other topics equally interesting
to Americans. These matters, together with my Porto Rico news, I proceed
to arrange in concise form, for immediate dispatch by telegraph, on my
arrival at Santiago.

Friend Fernandez very much excites my curiosity by exhibiting the mail
bags from Southampton. One of these bags is labelled 'Havana,' the other
'Santiago de Cuba,' and as they contain the correspondence from Europe,
doubtless letters and newspapers addressed to me and Nicasio Rodriguez y
Boldu are among the number. But the mouths of both sacks--which make
_my_ mouth 'water'--are securely tied and sealed, and the mail agent
dares not venture to open them, until they have been deposited at the
Cuban post-office.

On the evening of the following day we land in a boat at Aguadilla--a
small watering-place on the coast of Porto Rico. The village is
represented by a row of tumble-down houses and a scattering of
picturesque negro huts. While my companion confers with the postal agent
of Aguadilla, I occupy the time by a saunter through the quiet,
primitive streets, picking up here and there from a communicative native
scraps of news concerning the insurrection, which I learn is now very
much on the wane.

The business of the mail agent being over, we return to our steamer,
where, after partaking of a hearty meal--in spite of wind and
weather--we turn into our snug berths and chat and smoke our cigarettes
till sleep