some sacred subject. The full name of Havana, in honor of
Columbus, is San Cristobal de la Habana; and that of Matanzas is San
Carlos Alcazar de Matanzas. It is strange that the island itself has
defied all the Spanish attempts to name it. It has been solemnly named
Juana, after the daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella; then Ferdinandina,
after Ferdinand himself; then Santiago, and, lastly, Ave Maria; but it
has always fallen back upon the original Indian name of Cuba. And the
only compensation to the hyperbolical taste of the race is that they
decorate it, on state and ceremonious occasions, with the musical prefix
of "La siempre fidelisima Isla de Cuba."

At 7.30 P.M. went with my New York fellow-passengers to hear an opera,
or, more correctly, to see the people of Havana at an opera. The Teatro
de Tacon is closed for repairs. This is unfortunate, as it is said by
some to be the finest theater, and by all to be one of the three finest
theaters in the world. This, too, is attributed to Tacon; although it is
said to have been a speculation of a clever pirate turned fish-dealer,
who made a fortune by it. But I like well enough the Teatro de
Villanueva. The stage is deep and wide, the pit high and comfortable,
and the boxes light and airy and open in front, with only a light
tracery of iron to support the rails, leaving you a full view of the
costumes of the ladies, even to their slippers. The boxes are also
separated from the passage-ways in the rear, only by wide lattice work;
so that the promenaders between the acts can see the entire contents of
the boxes at one view; and the ladies dress and sit and talk and use the
fan with a full sense that they are under the inspection of a "committee
of the whole house." They are all in full dress, decolletees, without
hats. It seemed, to my fancy, that the mature women were divisible into
two classes, distinctly marked and with few intermediates--the obese and
the shrivelled. I suspect that the effect of time in this climate is to
produce a decided result in the one direction or the other. But a single
night's view at an opera is very imperfect material for an induction, I
admit. The young ladies had, generally, full figures, with tapering
fingers and well-rounded arms; yet there were some in the extreme
contrast of sallow, bilious, sharp countenances, with glassy eyes. There
is evidently great attention to manner, to the mode of sitting and
moving, to the music of the voice in spe