ion of the island necessitate any halting in out-of-the-way places
where there is not even an imitation of an inn. All that one needs to see,
and all that most care to see, can be seen in little tours, for a day, from
the larger cities. Yet if one wants to wander a little in the by-paths, it
is easy enough to do so.

What one sees or does in Cuba will depend mainly upon the purpose of the
visit, and upon the violence of the individual mania for seeing as many
places as possible. If the object is merely an excursion or an escape from
the rigors of a northern winter, there is no occasion for wandering out of
sight of the capital city. There is more to see and more to do in Havana
than there is in all the rest of the island. Nor is there much to be seen
elsewhere that cannot be seen in the immediate vicinity of that city. This,
of course, does not cover the matter of scenery. There are no mountains,
no forest jungles in that neighborhood, but forests in Cuba are not
particularly interesting, and even the mountains of Oriente are no more
beautiful or majestic than are our own summits, our own White Hills of New
Hampshire, the Adirondacks, the Blue Ridge, the Alleghenies, the Rockies,
and the Sierras. The charm of Cuba, and it is extremely charming, is not
its special "points of interest." It is rather a general impression, a
combination of soft and genial climate with varying lights and shades and
colors. Even after much experience there, I am not yet quite ready either
to admit or to deny that the island, taken as a whole, is either beautiful
or picturesque, and yet there is much of both. Attention is rarely
challenged by the sublime or the majestic, but is often arrested by
some play of light and shade. Cuban villages, with few exceptions, are
unattractive, although there is not infrequently some particular building,
usually a church, that calls for a second look or a careful examination.
Most of these little communities consist of a row of low and ungraceful
structures bordering the highway. They are usually extended by building on
at the ends. If the town street gets undesirably long, a second street or a
third will be made, on one or both sides of the main street, and thus the
town acquires breadth as well as length. The houses are built immediately
upon the roadside, and sidewalks are quite unusual. Nor, until the place
becomes a large town or a small city, is there, in most cases, any attempt
at decoration by means of