of the secretary-general.  Here was a brilliant exhibition of mirrors, upon some of which were paintings of dainty design and delicate execution, queerly effective.  The tall glasses stood as if upon mantles.  There were other glasses that duplicated their splendors; through the open doors down the street, which was the one for the contemplation of the gorgeous—­and down the street means into the modern end of the city—­was the residence of the Spanish Admiral of the annihilated fleet, Montijo.  It had been the property of and was the creation of a German, who got rich and got away in good time with $1,000,000 or more, selling his house to one of the rich Chinese, who had the fortune, good, bad or indifferent, to become the landlord of the Admiral whose ships disappeared in a vast volume of white vapor on the May morning when the Americans came and introduced themselves.

General Greene’s headquarters were in the house the German merchant built, the Chinese millionaire bought, and the Admiral, without a fleet since the 1st of May, rented.  The furnishing was rich; there were frescoes that were aglow with the tropic birds and window curtains that were dreams.  The vast mansions of the ex-officials were not, however, such as would have been sought as accommodations for the management of the military and other affairs, and there was much lacking to comfort; but as the hotels after the siege were not tolerable, the officers had to discover houses in which they could develop resources, and the public property was that of those who conquered to the extent to which it had belonged to those displaced.

The Americans got out of the chaotic hotels soon as possible, for there were some things in them simply not endurable.  They rent houses and employ servants and set up housekeeping.  The newspaper correspondents have been driven to this, and they are comparatively happy.  They have found ponies almost a necessary of life, and food that is fair is attainable, while the flowing hydrants remove a good deal of privation and apprehension.  The water is from an uncontaminated stream, and though slightly soiled after heavy rainfalls, it is not poisonous, and that is what many American and European cities cannot truthfully say of their water supplies.  The demand for houses by the Americans has raised the views of the proprietors.  The street on which the official Spaniards meant to flourish, as Weyler, Blanco and others had done before them, and had not time to reap a harvest of plunder before the days of doom came, would be called by the citizens of Cleveland, O., the Euclid avenue of the town.  It runs out to the old fort where the Spaniards made their stand “for the honor of the arms of Spain.”  The English and German and Chinese successful men reside in this quarter.  The majority of those who have provided themselves with houses by the river and fronting on the street most approved, looking out through groves and gardens, are Chinese half-castes, claiming Chinese