an it is to
rush through the island merely for the sake of doing so. In his essay on
_The Moral of Landscape_, Mr. Ruskin said that "all travelling becomes dull
in exact proportion to its rapidity." Nowhere is that more true than it
is in Cuba. There is very little in all the island that cannot be seen in
Havana and its immediate vicinity. It is well to see the other places if
one has ample time, but they should not be seen at the expense of a proper
enjoyment of Havana and its neighborhood. In Havana are buildings as old
and buildings as beautiful as any in the island. In its vicinity are sugar
plantations, tobacco fields, pineapples, cocoanuts, mangoes, royal palms,
ceibas, peasants' homes, typical towns and villages, all the life of the
people in the city and country. The common American desire to "see it all"
in a few days, is fatal to the greatest enjoyment, and productive mainly
of physical fatigue and mental confusion. It is the misfortune of most
travellers that they carry with them only the vaguest of ideas of what they
want to see. They have heard of Cuba, of Havana, the Morro, the Prado, of a
sunny island in the midst of a sapphire sea. While it is true that almost
everything in Cuba is worth seeing, it is best to acquire, before going,
some idea of the exhibition. That saves time and many steps. The old city
wall, La Fuerza, and La Punta, are mere piles of masonry, more or less dull
and uninteresting unless one knows something of their history. The manners
and customs of any country become increasingly interesting if one knows
something about them, the reason for them.

It is only a short trip to the Castillo del Principe, the fortress that
crowns the hill to the west of the city. From that height, the city and the
harbor are seen below, to the eastward. Across the bay, on the heights at
the entrance, are the frowning walls of Morro Castle surmounted by the
towering light-house, and the no less grim walls of La Cabana. The
bay itself is a sprawling, shapeless body of water with a narrow neck
connecting it with the Florida Straits. Into the western side of the bay
the city thrusts itself in a shape that, on a large map, suggests more than
anything else the head and neck of an over-fed bulldog. Into this bay, in
1508, came Sebastian Ocampo, said to be the first white man to visit the
spot. He entered for the purpose of careening his little vessels in order
to remove the barnacles and accumulated weed-growth. It