of all their western conquests.  The valley is now fruitful in sugar-canes, and surrounded with hills and woods; and the coup-d’oeil, when seen in the quick changing lights and shadows of the setting sun, is quite, enchanting.  Continuing our ride, we crossed the valley as the moon was beginning to throw her dubious and silvery light upon the cane fields.  A light breeze springing up, their flowery heads swayed to and fro like waving plumes, while their long leaves, striking one against the other, swept like a mournful sigh across the vale, as though Nature were offering its tribute of compassion to the fettered sons of Adam that had helped to give it birth.

There is a very important personage frequently met with in Cuba, who is called El Casero—­in other words, the parish commissariat pedler.  He travels on horseback, seated between two huge panniers, and goes round to all the cottages collecting what they wish to sell, and selling what they wish to buy, and every one who addresses him on business he styles, in reply, Caserita.  This pedlering system may be very primitive, but it doubtless is a great convenience to the rural population, especially in an island which is so deficient in roads and communication.  In short, I consider El Casero the representative of so useful and peculiar a class of the community, that I have honoured him with a wood-cut wherein he is seen bargaining with a negress for fowls, or vice versa,—­whichever the reader prefers,—­for not being the artist, I cannot undertake to decide which idea he meant to convey.

There is nothing in the town of Matanzas worth seeing except the views of it and around it.  The population amounts to about twenty-five thousand, and the shipping always helps to give it a gay appearance.  My chief object in visiting these parts was to see something of the sugar plantations in the island; but as they resemble each other in essential features, I shall merely describe one of the best, which I visited when retracing my steps to Havana, and which belongs to one of the most wealthy men in the island.  On driving up to it, you see a large airy house,—­windows and doors all open, a tall chimney rearing its proud head in another building, and a kind of barrack-looking building round about.  The hospitable owner appears to delight in having an opportunity of showing kindness to strangers.  He speaks English fluently; but alas! the ladies do not; so we must look up our old rusty armoury of Spanish, and take the field with what courage we may.  Kindness and good-will smooth all difficulties, and we feel astonished how well we get on; in short, if we stay here too long we shall get vain, and think we really can speak Spanish,—­we must dine, we must stay, we must make the house our own, and truly I rejoiced that it was so.  The house had every comfort, the society every charm, and the welcome was as warm as it was unostentatious.  We—­for you must know our party was four