u half-way
to them, and the luxuriance and variety of vegetable and animal life,
may not be the only satisfactions of existence here.

A quiet amble over the red earth, to the station, in a thick morning
mist, almost cold enough to make an overcoat comfortable; and, after two
hours on the rail, I am again in Matanzas, among close-packed houses,
and with views of blue ocean and of ships.

XIII.

MATANZAS AND ENVIRONS

Instead of the posada by the water-side, I take up my quarters at a
hotel kept by Ensor, an American, and his sister. Here the hours,
cooking, and chief arrangements are in the fashion of the country, as
they should be, but there is more of that attention to guests which we
are accustomed to at home than the Cuban hotels usually give.

The objects to be visited here are the Cumbre and the valley of the
Yumuri. It is too late for a morning ride, and I put off my visit until
afternoon. Gazzaniga and some of the opera troupe are here; and several
Americans at the hotel, who were at the opera last night, tell me that
the people of Matanzas made a handsome show, and are of opinion that
there was more beauty in the boxes than we saw at the Villanueva. It
appears, too, that at the Retreta, in the Plaza de Armas, when the band
plays, and at evening promenades, the ladies walk about, and do not keep
to their carriages as in Havana.

As soon as the sun began to decline, I set off for the Cumbre, mounted
on a pacer, with a Negro for a guide, who rode, as I soon discovered, a
better nag than mine. We cross the stone bridges, and pass the great
hospital, which dominates over the town. A regiment, dressed in
seersucker and straw hats, is drilling, by trumpet call, and drilling
well, too, on the green in front of the barracks while we take our
winding way up the ascent of the Cumbre.

The bay, town, and shipping lie beneath us; the Pan rises in the
distance to the height of some 3,000 feet; the ocean is before us,
rolling against the outside base of the hills; and, on the inside, lies
the deep, rich, peaceful valley of the Yumuri. On the top of the Cumbre,
commanding the noblest view of ocean and valley, bay and town, is the
ingenio of a Mr. Jenkes, a merchant bearing a name that would put
Spanish tongues to their trumps to sound, were it not that they probably
take refuge in the Don Guillermo, or Don Enrique, of his Christian name.
The estate bears the name of La Victoria, and is kindly thrown open to
vi