life acquires a stability and character of its own | quite impossible in a land where almost every moon brings changes and different necessities. The approach to Havana from the sea has nothing about it peculiarly noticeable or attractive. If it is fair weather-and it almost always is fair weather off Havana-the placidity of the water and the delicious spiciness of the land breeze are enough to satisfy the most fastidious traveler. The entrance to Havana Harbor is narrow. On the left is the small fortress, with its light-house on a rock, known as Moro Castle, with lines of low hills surmounted by winding walls of fortifications stretching eastward. On the other hand lies the Punta Fort, and the city, with its flat roofs and blue and green and white walls glistening in the warm sunlight. On a fair, still day all the golden quality of tropical sunshine is fully realized as the vessel glides through the narrow entrance, past the heights opposite the city, crowned by Fort Cabaña, and passes up into the broad basin at the upper end of the bay. The surface of the water is placid, and reflects a peculiar whitish, glassy light, and the old, picturesque bumboats, which surround the ship as soon as she comes to her anchorage, float upon it with such languid motion as to leave no wake behind them. These bumboats are at once the convenience and pest of the stranger arriving in Havana. The water at the wharves being too shallow to admit of the approach of vessels of much draught, all steamers are compelled to anchor a long distance from shore, and the traveler is dependent upon the bumboats to effect a landing. These boats are clumsy, unsteady little things, with an awning of striped blue and white stuff extended over one end, and a large sail, which, however, often flaps loosely on the mast, and leaves the swarthy boatman, in his linen shirt and broad Panama, to propel his boat with oars as best he can. The wharf at the custom-house, the first land-picture which greets the traveler, is a true bit of the whole city. Sunny and hot, with a few half-naked negroes waiting to seize the trunks and carry them inside the building, some custom-house officers dressed in striped blue and white linen, with the invariable broadbrimmed Panama, and just outside the railing which separates the wharf from the street a few dark-eyed, sallow-faced loungers smoking and gazing idly at the new arrivals. Passing through the building one finds one's self in the square, among a crowd of street carriages, whose drivers all clamor loudly for the privilege of whirling you away through the narrow, dingy streets to your lodging. There is, perhaps, no city in the world where public carriages are cheaper and, as a general thing, more wretched than in Havana. The old volante is no longer to be found at the street stands, but has given place to the Victoria, a small two-seated affair, drawn by one horse, which unfortunate animal is generally in the last stages of his natural life. Gaunt and weak-kneed, often falling down several times in the course of a drive round the city, it looks like the most miserable specimen of horseflesh which was ever turned out to die in a wilderness. At some stands larger, four-seated carriages can be obtained, drawn generally by animals in a better state of preservation; and the horses belonging to private carriages, or specially hired from livery-stables, are many of them magnificent creatures, proud and fiery, dashing through the narrow streets with an impetuosity fatal to the feeble brother of the public carriage with whom they come in contact. The national vehicle of Cuba is the volante. Although not seen so much as formerly in the streets of Havana, it is still in favor as a private carriage; and in the country, where the roads are so bad at times as to be almost impassable, its use is almost universal. It is a curious-looking affair. The seat, broad enough for two persons, is placed midway between the two immense wheels and the horse, giving a pleasant, seesawing motion to the occupant. THE CALISERO. It has a cover like a chaise-top, with a curtain of heavy coach cloth, to be buttoned from the. dasher to the front of the top in rainy or very sunny weather. These volantes make quite a splendid appearance on the Paseo, or grand drive, in the evening, when the top is put back, and the seat occupied by two pretty Spanish doñas, dressed in thin, showy material, their heads uncovered except by masses of black hair. Not unfrequently there is a small middle seat, called the niña bonita (pretty girl), in which case a third beauty is added to the party. Besides the horse harnessed in the shafts, there is commonly another fastened alongside by long traces. Upon this second horse rides the calisero, or driver. He is a magnificent fellow in his way. Black and shiny of countenance, dressed in blue coat trimmed with bright braid and gold-lace, yellow breeches, with huge topboots and spurs, and very broad-brimmed Panama, he sits proudly in his high saddle, and cracks his long whip as he dashes up and down the drive. Evening in Havana is the time for all social intercourse. The intense heat of the sun renders the streets and drives oppressive during the day-time, and ladies are rarely seen outside of the houses. Arrayed in the thinnest and loosest of linen wrappers, they lounge in cool, dark rooms until the approach of evening entices them to don their gay attire, draw back the shutters, and receive their friends. Then it is that the Paseo becomes crowded with gay equipages, and salutations are exchanged as the carriages pass and repass in going up and down the drive. As darkness comes on, the crowd passes back to the city down the long Calle de la Reina, and goes to finish the day at the theatres, or lingers around the park in the Prado, where among trees and flowers is sta-over from Africa, and has lived in Havana ever tioned a fine military band of music on every since. Smart and capable, José very soon workpleasant evening. Almost all shopping in which ed himself free, and now lives by himself, in an ladies are concerned is carried on after night-independent sort of fashion, working just enough fall. During the day ladies rarely visit the shops, it being customary to send a servant for patterns, and choose the goods at home. But in the evening, the shops being brilliantly lighted, the narrow streets present the appearance of long arcades, and the carriages passing up and down stop before the doors, while the clerks bring out specimens of goods for the inspection of the fair customer. His cos to supply his simple necessities, and smoking in During the day the streets present a curious picture of all phases of tropical life. Prominent among the crowd are the negroes, both men and women. There are all kinds of negroes in Havana, from the young ones, who, running almost naked about the streets, remind one of a herd of monkeys, to the blind, tooth-breakfast tucked in there so as to be handy for less, and dilapidated old creatures whose early days were spent among the wilds of Africa, and whose whole frames twinkle with almost youthful enjoyment when, on Holy King's Day, some wild, heathenish melody, sung by bands of negroes through the street, reminds them of the far-off home. There are many free negroes in Havanasome who have received the gift of freedom from their kind-hearted masters, and many who, by skillful use of their leisure hours, have earned sufficient to purchase themselves a privilege almost universally granted to the slaves in Cuba. We know one old free negro there, a man about sixty, who, some fifty years ago, was brought luncheon. It was all very well so long as he ate the bread himself; but we recollect, on a certain morning when our own servant was missing, and we sent José for rolls for breakfast, it was quite another thing to crumb the rolls brought home in his original pocket into our coffee, and we ventured a gentle remonstrance. With a very sorry countenance José accepted our reproof, and commenced vigorously wiping the rolls with a plaid blue and green handkerchief which he untwisted from his woolly head for that purpose. We did not send José for bread any more; but, for all that, he remained our firm friend, and no friend could be truer or more steadfast than poor old José. Two largely prominent elements of the street crowd are the priests, who, as in every Catholic country, are continually passing to and fro on their various errands of piety and mercy, and the Voluntarios, that portion of Havana population about which so much has been said and written since the breaking out of the Cuban revolution. If any movement has been made, if any new scheme is under consideration, in short, no matter what, or where, or how, in the minds of the people it is always the Voluntarios who are at the bottom of it. They are looked up to as the supreme and reigning power, and no doubt this view of the case comes very near the truth. An immense organization, springing into life in a few months at the commencement of the present revolutionary movement in the island, its members drawn from all classes of society, it represents the popular feeling toward the Cuban element which has caused the war. Large numbers of Voluntarios have left Havana for active service in the interior of the island; but many still remain, garrisoning the forts about the city, and otherwise performing military duty. Dressed in striped blue and white or buff linen, with green or scarlet facings, they form a picturesque addition to the population. Distinct from the Havana Volunteers are those who arrive with the regular troops in the steamers from Cadiz and Barcelona. These pass almost immediately through the city to the front, wherever that may be, a matter somewhat difficult to determine in Cuban warfare. Distinguished among the Spanish Volunteers |