[Subsection]

I have now been here for more than a week in the very lap of slavery, and during the first few days of my visit I was so depressed that I was not able to do much. Close before my window--the residence of the planter is a large one-storied house--I could not avoid seeing the whole day a group of negro women working under the whip, the cracking of which (in the air, however) above their heads, and the driver's (a negro) impatiently-repeated cry of "Arrea! Arrea!" be quick! get on! kept them working on without any intermission. And through the night--the whole night--I heard their weary footsteps, as they spread out to dry upon the flagged pavement, outside my window, the crushed sugar-cane which they carried from the sugar-mill. In the daytime it is their work to rake up together the sun-dried canes, la bagaza, and carry them in baskets again to the sugar-mill, where they serve   [p. 312]   as fuel to heat the furnaces in which the sugar is boiled. The work on a sugar-plantation must go on incessantly, night and day, during the whole time of the sugar-harvest, which is, in Cuba, during the whole season called la Secca, which is probably half the year. It is true that I frequently heard the women chattering and laughing during their incessant labor, untroubled by the cracking of the whip, and that during the night I often heard African songs and merry shouts, but which--sounding from the sugar-mill-- lacked all melody and music. I know also that the laborers on this plantation were changed every seven hours, so that they always have six hours in every four-and-twenty for rest and refreshment; and that during two nights in the week the sugar-mill rests, and they are able to sleep; but still I could not reconcile myself to it. Neither can I now, but I can bear it better, since I have seen the cheerfulness of the slaves at their work, and their good, pleasant, and even joyous appearance, as a general rule, on this plantation.

I have several times visited the Negro-Slaves' Bohea, which is a kind of low fortress-like wall, built on the four sides of a large, square court-yard, with a large gateway on one side, which is locked at night. The slaves' dwellings are within the wall--one room for each family --and open into the court. Nothing is to be seen on the outside of the wall but a row of small openings, secured with iron bars, one to each room, and so high in the wall that the slaves can not look out from within. In the middle of the large court-yard is a building which serves as a cooking-kitchen, wash-house, &c. I have been present in this bohea more than once at the slaves' mealtimes, and seen them fetch their calabash bowls full of snow-white rice, which had been boiled for them in an immense kettle, and which the black cook dealt out with a ladle, and with what seemed to me unreserved liberality. I have seen the slaves' white teeth shine out, and   [p. 313]   heard them chattering and laughing as they devoured the white rice grains, of which they are very fond (many times helping themselves to them with their fingers). They have, besides, salt fish and smoked meat; I saw also, in some of their rooms, bunches of bananas and tomatoes. According to law, a planter must furnish each slave with a certain measure of dried fish or salted meat per week, together with a certain number of bananas. But the slave-master, of course, does just as he pleases, for what law will call him to account? The appearance, however, of the slaves on this plantation testifies evidently of their being well fed and well contented.

I often made the inquiry as I pointed to their food, E buono? and always received in reply the words Si e buono! with a contented and ready smile.

I have already heard it said in America that the French were considered the most judicious of slaveholders; and my host here, Mr. C., who is of French origin, born in St. Domingo, is a proof to me of the truth of this assertion. He works his slaves very hard; but he feeds them well, and takes good care of them, and they do their work cheerfully and quickly.

Mr. C. is a courteous, lively, and loquacious Frenchman, with a good deal of acuteness and sagacity of mind; and I have to thank him for much valuable information--among other things, on the various negro tribes of Africa, their character, life, and social state on the coast, from which the greater number of slaves are brought hither--for the most part purchased from African chiefs, according to agreement with the white slave-dealer--Mr. C. having himself been there, and being therefore good authority on the subject. I have also learned from him how to distinguish the different tribes by their characteristic features, and their various modes of tattooing themselves.

The Congo negroes, called the Frenchmen of Africa, are   [p. 314]   a vivacious, gay, but vain people; they have depressed noses, wide mouths, thick lips, splendid teeth, and high cheek-bones; they are strong and broad built, but not tall of stature. The Gangas negroes are kindred to the Congoes. The Luccomées and Mandingoes, on the contrary, the noblest of these coast tribes, are tall of stature, with handsome and often remarkably regular, and even noble features, the expression of which is grave. The negro preachers and fortune-tellers are principally of the Mandingo tribes. The Luccomées are a proud and contentious people; they are difficult to manage in the commencement of their life of slavery; they are lovers of freedom, and easily excited to violence; but if they are well and justly treated--(such just treatment as they can receive when they are held as slaves!)--they become in a few years the best and the most confidential laborers on the plantation. The Callavalis, or Caraballis negroes, are also a good people, although more lazy and careless. I have seen among them some magnificent figures. They have flatter noses and broader countenances than the Luccomées, and the expression is not so grave. All the negroes here are tattooed in the face; some around the eyes, others on the cheek-bones, and so on, according to the custom of the nation to which they belong. The greater number--even of the men--wear necklaces of red or of blue beads--the red, the coral-like seed of a kind of tree on the island; and the greater number, men as well as women, wear striped cotton handkerchiefs bound around the head. There is here a negro of the Fellah tribe, a little man, with delicate features, and the long, black, shining hair which is said to be peculiar to this tribe.

Such are the principal of the negro tribes and characteristics with which I have become acquainted.

But I must tell you about one negro, whose history is closely connected with the family on this plantation, am which has been related to me. It is a beautiful instance   [p. 315]   of the peculiar nobility of the negro character when this approaches its proper development. This man is called Samedi, or Saturday, and was the servant of Mr. C.'s parents in St. Domingo when the celebrated massacre took place there, and from which he saved, at the peril of his own life, the two sons, then boys, of his master, my host being one of them. He carried them on his shoulders in the night, through all dangers, down to the harbor, where he had secured for himself and the boys a passage in a small vessel to Charleston, in South Carolina. Safely arrived here, he placed the two boys at school, and hired himself out as a servant. He and the boys also had lost every thing they possessed in the horrible night at St. Domingo. He had been alone able to save their lives. He now maintained and clothed them and himself by his labor. Each week he took to the boys each three dollars of his wages, and this he continued till the boys grew into young men, and he an old man.

My host went to sea, and acquired wealth by his ability and good fortune. Afterward, when he was possessed of a plantation in Cuba, and had married, he took old Saturday to live with him; and now he took care of him in his turn, and every week gave to him three dollars as pocket-money in return for those which he had received from this magnanimous negro in his boyish years. Old Saturday lived here long and happily, and free from care, beloved and esteemed by all. He died two years since in extreme old age. He was an upright Christian, and very pious. It was, therefore, a surprise to his master after his death to find that he wore upon his breast an African amulet, a piece of folded paper printed very small, with letters and words in an African tongue, and to which the negroes appear to ascribe a supernatural power. But good Christianity does not trouble herself about such little heathenish superstition, the remains of twilight after the old night. Our good Christian peasantry of Sweden can   [p. 316]   not help still believing in fairies and witchcraft, in wise men and women, and I myself believe in them to a certain degree. There is still witchcraft enough prevailing, but

The good can say our dear Lord's prayer,
And fear neither witch nor devil!

Still, nevertheless,

It is so dark, far, far away in the forest!

What do you now say to this negro slave? Ought, indeed, a race of people which can show such heroes, ever to have been enslaved? But this conduct of Saturday's is by no means a solitary instance of its kind in that bloody night of St. Domingo. Many slaves saved, or endeavored to save, their masters or their children, and many lost their lives in the attempt.

My visit to the slaves' bohea was not so consolatory to me as two visits which I paid to the cottages of the free negroes in the village of Limonar, which is very near this plantation. Early one beautiful morning I set off thither on an expedition of discovery. The small houses there, some of bark, others of woven brushwood, were all built in the form of cones, with palm-leaf roofs, and surrounded with cocoa-nut, palm, and other tropical trees, so that the whole village had an African appearance, at least according to what I have read and heard of African huts and cities. There was a certain picturesque disorder in every thing--a beauty in the beautiful trees, which was refreshing after the Anglo-American regularity. The huts seemed built by guess, and with as little trouble as possible, and the trees had sprung up of themselves out of the warm earth to overshadow them. Each little homestead stood in the morning sun like an earthly paradise. And they were earthly paradises, these little farms with their bark huts and palms; they were, the greater number of them, the abodes of free negroes. I was not sure of this, as yet, this morning, but I had a presentiment of it as I wandered   [p. 317]   through the village. Some unusual-looking trees and fruit in a little inclosure to the right attracted me, and there I determined to make a morning visit. The little gate was the most rickety gate in the world, but the most willing to allow ingress. I passed through it, and, advancing along a little sanded path, which wound round to the left, arrived at a palm-thatched bark hut under some cocoa palms. A little below lay a shadowy grove of banana and mango trees, and trees with a kind of white, round fruit hanging from their flexile branches; near the hut grew the tall trees, like some kind of palm, which had particularly attracted my attention; they were, I found, cactus plants and flowers. I was here struck, beyond every thing else, with a general appearance of order and attention, which it is very unusual to find in and about the houses of the children of Africa. The hut was well built and kept up, and the numerous tropical trees around it had evidently been planted con amore. The little hut had also its piazza under the palm-leaf roof, and some sugar-cane was lying on the table.

The door stood open; fire burned on the floor--a certain sign that it was inhabited by an African! The morning sun shone in through the door, and I also looked in. The interior was spacious, neat, and clean. On the left sat an old negro on his low bed, dressed in a blue shirt and woolen cap; he sat with his elbows propped on his knees, and his face resting on his hands, turned toward the fire, and evidently half asleep. He did not see me, and I therefore could look around me undisturbed. An iron pot with a plate over it stood on the fire, and before the fire sat a tortoise-shell cat, and by her, on one leg, stood a white chicken. Fire, iron pot, cat, and chicken, every thing seemed half asleep in the sunshine which streamed in upon them. The cat just looked at me, then winked her eyes again, and gazed at the fire. It was a picture of real tropical still-life. Golden ears of maize-corn, fruit, and   [p. 318]   dried meat, and garden-tools hung upon the brown walls of the cottage.

In a little while the old man rose up, and, without observing me, turned himself round and began to lay together his bed-clothes, very little of which, however, the bed possessed. He folded up sheets and coverlid, and finally rolled up a small, closely woven, and handsome mat, which served as a mattress. When he had laid them aside very carefully, he again seated himself on his little bedstead, which was merely a few boards, and gazed again sleepily at the fire. Presently, however, he looked up, and became aware of me. He gave me a friendly look, as if in salutation, and said "Café!" but I did not know whether he invited me to take coffee with him, or asked for some from me. The cat and the chicken seemed to smell breakfast, and began to move, and as I supposed that the breakfast hour might be at hand and the breakfast over the fire, I bade the old man, the cat, and the chicken "Buon dios! Retornero!" and leaving them to understand that as they might, I proceeded onward around the little plantation.

I found in the banana grove two little brushwood cottages, in each of which there dwelt a large pig, which was just now enjoying its breakfast of large banana leaves. Swine are the principal wealth of the negro husbandman, and even of the plantation-slaves. They are fattened without difficulty on banana leaves and the fruits of the earth, and are sold when fat for about fifteen dollars each. Beyond the fruit tree and swine grove lay a field in which maize and some kind of root were cultivated, but very indifferently. A negro man and woman were here at work, but the work was evidently ad libitum. We greeted one another, and made an attempt to converse, but it ended in laughter. They burst into peals of laughter at my words and at my want of understanding, and I laughed at their capital hearty laughter, really tropical, luxuriant   [p. 319]   laughter. It cheers the very soul to see negroes chattering and laughing.

This little homestead, which seemed to be about two acres, was inclosed with a fence, in part paling, in part a stone wall, and in part a quick hedge. After I had seen all there was to see, had laughed and shaken hands with the negroes, I returned to the sugar plantation to breakfast.

I learned from Mr. C. that the tall, palm-like trees, which were hung with bunches of fruit resembling small cocoa-nuts, are called papaya, and those which bear white fruits caimetos; that the old negro whom I visited is named Pedro; that he was born of a free mother, and has always been known as a remarkably good and honest man. He himself built his house and planted the trees on the little plot of ground, which he rented from the church for five pesos yearly. The village of Limonar was, as I imagined, principally built and inhabited by negro slaves who have purchased their own freedom, and who rent land in the village; many, however, he said, were not as creditable as old Pedro; many were lazy, and maintained themselves rather by stealing sugar-cane, fruit, &c., than by producing it.

At my request Mrs. C. accompanied me one afternoon on another visit to the negroes at Limonar, to act as interpreter in my conversation with them. This lady is as quiet and gentle in her demeanor as her husband is active and vivacious; she is musical, and has a voice which is real music to hear, in particular when she speaks the beautiful Spanish tongue. We visited various negro houses, most of which were inferior in all respects to that of Pedro. The negroes hold their plots of ground by the tenure of a small yearly payment, or by yielding up a portion of the produce to some Spanish Creole. I asked them if they wished to return to Africa; to which they replied, laughing, "No; they were very well off here!" Most of   [p. 320]   them had, nevertheless, been stolen from Africa after they had passed the years of childhood. We met with one woman whose arm had been injured, and on Mrs. C. asking her the cause of this, she related in Spanish, with animated gestures, the story of cruel treatment which she, the defenseless slave, had received at the hands of her master or his agent. Lastly, we went to old Pedro's. I had furnished myself with some coffee for him, and with some Spanish phrases for the people who had charge of him--the man and woman whom I had seen in the field. They were now in the cottage, and old Pedro was sitting there, just as before.

The man's right arm had been crushed in the sugar-mill, which had obliged it to be amputated above the elbow, after which he purchased his freedom for two hundred pesos; and the woman had also purchased her freedom for the same sum, if I remember correctly. I asked them whether they would like to return to Africa. They answered, with a merry laugh, "No; what should they do there? They were very happy here!" They were thoroughly contented and happy. I besought them to be kind to old Pedro, and God would recompense them! Again they laughed loudly, and replied, "Yes! yes!" Never before had I discovered how amusing I could be.

It had become dark while we were standing in the cottage under the cocoa and papaya trees; and the stars came forth, gleaming softly from the deep blue sky. We saw from the place where we stood, and which was considerably elevated ground, the red fires shining from the furnaces of Mr. C.'s sugar-mill, and heard the wild songs and shouts which proceeded thence. There was slave-labor; life without rest; the dominion of the whip; the glowing furnace of slavery; here freedom, peace, and rest beneath this beautiful tropical heaven, in the bosom of its affluent fruit-garden. The contrast was striking.

Cuba is at once the hell and the paradise of the negroes.   [p. 321]   The slave has severer labor on the plantation, but a better future, a better prospect of freedom and happiness than the slave of the United States. The slave standing by the hot furnace of the sugar-mill can look to those heights where the palm-trees are waving, and think to himself --"I too can take my rest beneath them one of these days!"

And when he does so, when he lives like old Pedro, or the man with only one arm and his wife, who can be happier than he? The sun gives him clothing, the earth yields him, with the least possible labor, abundant fare, the trees drop for him their beautiful fruits, and give him their leaves to roof his dwelling and to feed his creatures; each day, as it passes, is beautiful and free from care--each day, as it passes, affords him its enjoyment--sun, rest, fruits, existence in an atmosphere which, merely to breathe, is happiness; the negro desires nothing more. And when in the evening or the night he sees the red fires shining from the sugar-mill, and hears the cracking of the whip, and the shouts which resound thence, he can raise his eyes to the mild stars which glance through the palm-trees above his head, and bless the Lord of Heaven, who has prepared for the slave a way from captivity to paradise, even on earth. For he too was there by the blazing furnace, and beneath the lash of the driver, and now he is here in freedom and peace beneath his own palm-tree; and his heavily-laden brother may ere long be the same! What matters it to him that his arm was crushed; his heart is as sound as ever! He is free and happy, and none can take from him his freedom. The negro, under the dominion of the Spaniard, is possessed of a hope, and can lift up a song of thanksgiving which he can not do under the free Eagle of the American Union.

To-day is Sunday, and Mr. C. has done me the favor of allowing me to see the negroes of the plantation dance for an hour in the forenoon. In an ordinary way, they never   [p. 322]   dance during the dry season, la Secca; they are, however, very glad to do it, if they can only get the opportunity, spite of their laborious work both night and day. I already hear the African drum beating its peculiar, distinct, and lively measures, and after the baptism of a little negro child the dancing is to begin.

I enjoy myself very much with the kind family here, in which there seems to prevail a great deal of mutual affection, and somewhat of that cheerfulness which existed among us when we were so large a family altogether at home. Here are four sons and three daughters, who play and quarrel playfully one with another at all hours of the day, and the youngest, a pretty lad, is so childishly full of fun that he befools me to play with him.

In the morning and the evening I go out on my solitary rambles in the neighborhood, generally accompanied by three large blood-hounds, which I can not get rid of, but which are gentle as lambs, and lie down perfectly quiet around me whenever I sit down to sketch a tree or any remarkable object which takes my fancy; and it is perhaps as well for me that I have them with me, because there are said to be runaway negro slaves roving about on the island, and the dogs guard me from any surprise of this sort. These animals are so trained that, while they are perfectly gentle toward white people, they are dangerous to the blacks, and the blacks are afraid of them.

I have here sketched two remarkable trees, the one a beautiful ceiba in perfect health and magnificence, and a magnificent tree it really is; the other a ceiba in the arms of its terrible murderess or mistress, or both in one. In this tree one may see the parasite grasping the trunk with two gigantic hands, and, as it were, strangling it in its embrace. I have here also greatly enjoyed the balmy air, and the wonderful beauty and novelty of the vegetation. There are some beautiful avenues--guadarajahs, as they   [p. 323]   are called in Spanish--on this plantation, one of king-palms, another of mango-trees, and so on. In the evenings we have music--for the whole family is musical-- and sit with open doors, while the delicious zephyrs sport round the room.

I could go through the whole process of sugar-making, from its very commencement to its close, that is to say, if I had sugar-cane and a sugar-mill. The process is so simple and so agreeable to witness, that I think you will not be displeased to see it here on paper as I have seen it in Mr. C's well-kept sugar-mill. We must first, however, see the cutting of the sugar-cane.

The sugar-cane is waving there in the field like a compact, tall green reed; the stems, about as thick as a stout walking-stick, are yellow, some with flame-colored stripes or spots, or with various characteristics of the cane, such as longer or shorter distances between the joints, each according to its species, for there are here many species of sugar-cane, as the Otaheitan-cane, ribbon-cane, and so on.

The cane is cut off near the root with a sharp reaping hook, or short, crooked scythe, one or two canes at a time; the green top is cut off, and the cane cast to one side. The negroes perform this operation with great speed and dexterity, and, as it seems, con amore. It is said that they like to destroy, and I could almost believe that it was so; there is a crashing and crackling among the vigorous canes; it is cheerful work, and those black figures, with their broad chests and sinewy arms, look well so employed. The shorn canes are loaded upon wagons drawn by oxen and conveyed away to the sugar-mill, where, as soon as it reaches the open door, it is unloaded by women, who throw the canes into a broad, raised, long trough, which extends into the building, where upon an elevation are placed two broad mill-stones, turning in opposite directions, the one raised a little above the other. By the side of   [p. 324]   this trough stand women, who pass the canes onward and up to the grinding mill-stones (I have seen a couple of young women at work here who really were splendidly beautiful, with their dark glancing eyes, their white teeth, their coral necklaces round their throats, and the pink handkerchiefs bound round their heads), where stands a negro on a landing-place, who is called the feeder, his business being to see that all the canes pass regularly between the mill-stones. The juice is pressed out with every half revolution of the stones, and the canes which enter between them from above fall down, crushed dry, into another trough below, whence they are conveyed away by an opposite door, and then heaped up into another wagon drawn by oxen, which, as soon as it is loaded, moves off and gives place to another. This wagon, loaded with la bagaza, goes to the flagged pavement, where women unload it into baskets, and lay it out to dry, as we have already seen. On one side of the building in which the sugar-cane is ground stands a house containing the machinery which sets the wheels in motion, and which is worked principally by oxen, which are driven as the oxen with us in the operation of thrashing. There is a driver to each pair of oxen, and it is from these that the shouts and the kind of stamping sound proceed which are heard at night. A negro shouts aloud words which he invents for the occasion, and which are often entirely without meaning, and the others respond in chorus, repeating with some variation the given words. The shouts and the noises are unmelodious, but the negroes enliven themselves in this manner during their nocturnal labor.

The juice which flows from the crushed canes flows between the mill-stones into a porcelain trough, placed in a transverse direction to the great trough extending between the two doors, and through this it flows into a porcelain tank, where it is purified; after which it is again passed by another trough into the boiling-house, where it is boiled   [p. 325]   and skimmed in immense boilers or pans, fixed in the earth by masonry. By the side of each pan stands a negro, naked to the waist, who, with an immense ladle, as tall as himself, stirs and skims the boiling juice. The juice, when it flows from the cane, is a thin liquid, of a pale green color; it is now boiled in the pans to a thick sirup of a grayish tint; and this process being complete, it is allowed to flow into large, flat, long pans, where it is left to harden; after which it is broken up, packed into hogsheads, and sent out into the world.

Sugar is in no instance refined in Cuba; there is, therefore, no really white sugar there. The boilers are heated by furnaces, the mouths of which are in the walls, and which are continually fed by la bagaza, which, when dried, makes excellent fuel.

And this is the history of the sugar-cane before it comes into your coffee-cup.^[1*] Alas! that its sweetness can not, as yet, be obtained without much bitterness, and that human enjoyment costs so much human suffering; for I know very well that what I see at this place is not the darkest side of sugar cultivation. There is a far darker, of which I shall not now speak.

I will now go to the dance.

After the dance. There stands in the grass, at the back of the house, a large Otaheitan almond-tree, the leafy head of which casts a broad shadow. In the shade of this tree were assembled between forty and fifty negroes, men and women, all in clean attire, the men mostly in shirts or blouses, the women in long, plain dresses. I here saw representatives of the various African nations--Congoes, Mandingoes, Luccomées, Caraballis, and others dancing in the African fashion. Each nation has some variations of   [p. 326]   its own, but the principal features of the dance are in all essentially the same. The dance always requires a man and a woman, and always represents a series of courtship and coquetry; during which the lover expresses his feelings, partly by tremor in all his joints, so that he seems ready to fall to pieces as he turns round and round his fair one, like the planet around its sun, and partly by wonderful leaps and evolutions, often enfolding the lady with both his arms, but without touching her; yet still, as I said, this mode varied with the various nations. One negro, a Caraballis, threw one arm tenderly round the neck of his little lady during the dance, while with the other he placed a small silver coin in her mouth. And the black driver, an ugly little fellow (he under whose whip I saw the women at work), availed himself frequently of his rank, sometimes by kissing, during the dance, the prettiest of the girls that he danced with, and sometimes by interrupting the dancing of another man with a handsome young negro girl, or with one of the best dancers, and then taking his place; for it is the custom that if any one of the bystanders can thrust a stick or a hat between two dancers, they are parted, and he can take the man's place. In this manner a woman will sometimes have to dance with three or four partners without leaving her place. Women, also, may exclude each other from the dance, generally by throwing a handkerchief between the dancers, when they take the place of the other who retires, such interruptions being generally taken in very good part, the one who retires smiling and seeming well pleased to rest a little, only again to come forward, and the man laughing still more heartily to see himself the object of choice with so many. The dancing of the women always expresses a kind of bashfulness, mingled with a desire to charm, while, with downcast eyes, she turns herself round upon one spot with an air and grace very much resembling a turkey-hen, and with a neckerchief or colored handkerchief in her   [p. 327]   hand, sometimes one in each hand, she half drives away from her the advancing lover and half entices him to her--a mode of dancing which, in its symbolic intention, would suit all nations and all classes of people, though--Heaven be praised--not all the beloved. The spectators stood in a ring around the dancers, one or two couples accompanying the dance with singing, which consisted of the lively but monotonous repetition of a few words which were given out by one person in the circle, who seemed to be a sort of improvisatore, and who had been chosen as leader of the song. Each time that a fresh couple entered the dance they were greeted by shrill cries, and the words and tune of the song were changed; but both tune and voices were devoid of melody. It is difficult to imagine that these voices would develop that beauty, that incomparable, melodious purity, and this people that musical talent which they have attained to in the slave states of America. The wild African apple-tree has, when transplanted into American soil, ennobled both its nature and its fruit. The words of the singer were, I was told, insignificant, nor could I get any clew to their purport.

I have been told words used by French negro Creoles in their dances, which in their patois expressed a meaning which it seems to me would very well suit the negro dances here; they say,

Mal à tête, ce n'est pas maladie,
Mal aux dent, ce n'et pas maladie,
Mais l'amour, c'est maladie!

The dance has no distinct divisions, no development, no distinct termination, but appears to be continuous variations of one and the same theme improvised, according to the good-humor or inspiration of the dancers, but comprised within a very circumscribed sphere, and not advancing beyond the quiverings, the twirlings, and the evolutions of which I have spoken. If either man or woman wish to choose a partner, they go out of the circle and   [p. 328]   place their handkerchief on the shoulder of the desired partner, or put a hat upon his or her head, or an ornament of some kind upon them; and I saw, on this occasion, one young negro woman whirling round with a man's hat on her head, and hung all over with handkerchiefs. It is also a common custom, but not of the most refined kind, to place a small silver coin in the mouth of the dancing lady at the close of the dance. The music consisted, besides the singing, of drums. Three drummers stood beside the tree-trunk beating with their hands, their fists, their thumbs, and drumsticks upon skin stretched over hollowed tree-stems. They made as much noise as possible, but always keeping time and tune most correctly.

It was a very warm day, and I saw that the linen of the quivering and grimacing gentlemen was in a state as if it had just been taken out of the sea. Yet not the less danced they, evidently from the pleasure of their hearts, and seemed as if they would continue to dance to eternity; but a loud crack of the whip was heard not far from the dancing-ground, and immediately the dancing ceased, and the dancers hastened away obediently to labor. Sugar-grinding and boiling must again begin.

The slaves of Cuba have no holiday during la Secca, although on Mr. C's plantation labor has a pause for two hours on Sunday morning.

How much more lively and full of intelligence was this dance under the almond-tree than the greater number of our dances in society, at least if we except the waltz. Our dances have not enough of natural life; this dance has perhaps too much; but it is full of animation and straightforwardness, and has this good quality belonging to it, that every one in company may take part in it, either singing, or dancing, or applauding. Nobody is excluded; there is no need for any body to stand against the walls, for any body to be dull or have ennui. Long live the African dance!

  [p. 329]  

I have made an interesting excursion with the family to one of those remarkable grottoes which abound in the mountains of Cuba. This is called La Loma de Lorenzo de St. Domingo, and is distant some miles from Limonar. Mrs. C. and I drove thither in their volante, the young ones riding the small Cuban horses, the most good-tempered, willing, and prettiest of all creatures of the horse-kind, and which carry the rider so lightly that he feels no fatigue: these horses are small; their action is a short and very even trot. John C., a cheerful, spirited, and very agreeable young man, ordered a couple of negroes to carry a quantity of straw and brushwood into various parts of the grotto, which was set fire to. This produced a splendid scene. Millions of terrified bats swarmed in the lofty and dark arches of the cavern; and what strange and wonderful shapes were revealed by the flames! It was a world of dreams, in which every form fashioned by nature, and of which the human heart has dreamed or had previsions, seemed to present itself in gloomy, chaotic outline. There seemed to be the human form wrapped as if in swaddling bands, awaiting patiently light and lift; there were pulpits and thrones; wings which seemed about to loosen themselves from the walls; thousands of fantastic shapes, some lonely, some grotesque, some hideous. Ah! within these caverns of nature seem to be contained the whole of that dark world which the cavern of the human heart incloses, but the shapes of which we do not see, excepting when, in dark moments, a gloomy fire lights up its shadowy recesses. Every form which I beheld here I had seen long beforehand in--my own breast. And I know that they all exist there still, although God has allowed the sun to enter, and palms to spring up in those gloomy spaces. I know that beyond the light there still exist gloomy, night-like expanses unknown to myself, or, at all events, indistinctly known, and which will perhaps remain so through the whole of my earthly life.   [p. 330]   But then--life's caverns are only imperfectly illumined on earth!

The most definite and the most beautiful formation in these grottoes are the pillars. A drop of water distilling from the roof of the cavern falls upon the earth, and petrifies; from these petrified water-drops grows up a conical elevation, from above also a similar cone is formed, depending from the roof, and slowly growing from petrifying water-drops; and in the course of centuries these two have met, and now form a column which seems to support the roof, and not unfrequently resembles a petrified palm-tree. Many such palm-trees stood in the vault of the grotto; many others were in process of formation. The power of a water-drop is great!

Monday morning. I have been wandering about in the inclosed pasture-ground, el portrero, contemplating parasitic growths and sketching trees. A wood in Cuba is a combined mass of tendriled and thorny vegetation which it is impossible to penetrate. I have seen in the inclosed pastures some beautiful tall trees, but many more deformed, from parasites and other causes; the beautiful and the unsightly stand there side by side. I saw to-day also a beautiful convolvulus, with large white flowers twining itself up to the very top of a dead tree, overhung with many heavy parasites. There are many kinds of the convolvulus here, which, with their beautiful flowers, constitute the principal ornament of the quick hedge, which they bind together into a dense mass and cover with lovely flowers. There are many species of wild passion-flower, some very large, which bear fruit, others very small. One of the most beautiful trees on this plantation is the pomme-rosa tree; it is just now in flower, and its blossom has an indescribably delicious fragrance.

I shall shortly leave the plantation of Ariadne, but shall return both from my own wishes and those of the family. I am anxious to leave with my kind entertainers, as a re   [p. 331]   membrance of me, a portrait of the youngest boy, my little playmate.