rkable of all the trees which loom up beneath the
brilliant purple skies of Cuba. The negroes have a superstition that
the ceiba is a magic tree haunted by spirits, a singular notion also
shared by the colored people of Nassau, though these two islands are
so many hundreds of miles apart and have never had any natural
connection. There is certainly something weird in the loneliness and
solitary grandeur of the tree. Next to the palm and ceiba in beauty
and picturesqueness of effect is the tamarind tree, with its deep
green and delicate foliage, presenting a singular and curious aspect
when thickly looped on every branch with hanging chocolate-colored
pods.

Under the noonday sun, sitting in the deep shade of some lofty ceiba,
one may watch with curious eyes the myriads of many-hued, broad-winged
butterflies, mingling orange, crimson, and steel-blue in dazzling
combinations, as they flit through the ambient atmosphere with a
background of shining, evergreen foliage, the hum of insects and the
carol of birds forming a soft lullaby inviting sleep. Naturalists tell
us that no less than three hundred distinct species of butterflies are
found in Cuba, ranging in size from a common house-fly to a
humming-bird. The day dies with a suddenness almost startling, so that
one passes from sunshine to starlight as if by magic. Then the cocuyo
takes up the activity of insect life, flashing its miniature torches
over the plantations, and peeping out from among the dense foliage,
while the stars sing their evening hymn of silent praise.

The Cubans have a peculiar mode of harnessing their oxen, similar to
that seen in the far East and also in some parts of Europe, as at San
Sebastian, on the Bay of Biscay. A stout wooden bar is placed at the
root of the horns, and so securely bound to them with thongs that the
animal draws, or rather pushes, by the head and frontlet, without
chafing. The Cuban oxen have a hole pierced in their nostrils, through
which a metallic ring is secured, and to this a rope is attached,
serving as reins with which to guide the animal. This mode of
harnessing certainly seems to enable the oxen to bring more strength
to bear upon the purpose for which they are employed than when the
yoke is placed, as is the case with us, about the throat and
shoulders. The greatest power of horned animals undoubtedly lies in
the head and neck, and the question arises whether in placing the yoke
on the neck and breast we do not get