.

Throughout the day, sailing down the outer edge of the Gulf Stream, we
see vessels of all forms and sizes, coming in sight and passing away, as
in a dioramic show. There is a heavy cotton droger from the Gulf, of
1200 tons burden, under a cloud of sail, pressing on to the northern
seas of New England or Old England. Here comes a saucy little Baltimore
brig, close-hauled and leaning over to it; and there, half down in the
horizon, is a pile of white canvas, which the experienced eyes of my two
friends, the passenger shipmasters, pronounce to be a bark, outward
bound. Every passenger says to every other, how beautiful! how
exquisite! That pale thin girl who is going to Cuba for her health, her
brother travelling with her, sits on the settee, propped by a pillow,
and tries to smile and to think she feels stronger in this air. She says
she shall stay in Cuba until she gets well!

After dinner, Capt. Bullock tells us that we shall soon see the high
lands of Cuba, off Matanzas, the first and highest being the Pan of
Matanzas. It is clear over head, but a mist lies along the southern
horizon, in the latter part of the day. The sharpest eyes detect the
land, about 4 P.M., and soon it is visible to all. It is an undulating
country on the coast, with high hills and mountains in the interior, and
has a rich and fertile look. That height is the Pan, though we see no
special resemblance, in its outline, to a loaf of bread. We are still
sixty miles from Havana. We cannot reach it before dark, and no vessels
are allowed to pass the Morro after the signals are dropped at sunset.

We coast the northern shore of Cuba, from Matanzas westward. There is no
waste of sand and low flats, as in most of our southern states; but the
fertile, undulating land comes to the sea, and rises into high hills as
it recedes. "There is the Morro! and right ahead!" "Why, there is the
city too! Is the city on the sea? We thought it was on a harbor or bay."
There, indeed, is the Morro, a stately hill of tawny rock, rising
perpendicularly from the sea, and jutting into it, with walls and
parapets and towers on its top, and flags and signals flying, and the
tall lighthouse just in front of its outer wall. It is not very high,
yet commands the sea about it. And there is the city, on the sea-coast,
indeed--the houses running down to the coral edge of the ocean. Where is
the harbor, and where the shipping? Ah, there they are! We open an
entrance, narrow and de