Ten miles from town is situated the notorious “Casino” which is trying to emulate Monte Carlo with its glare, gold and girls. If you win anything there, you are lucky to get back to town with it without being murdered or robbed. Recently a young man, who made a fortune over night here, disappeared, and all they found of him was his leg. Not long ago a stark-naked woman was found dead near the Casino. The mystery has not yet been cleared up. At the gate entrance of this palatial gambling-hell, I noticed policemen taking the license number of every auto that arrived, to keep track of the chauffeurs, many of whom are crooks and cut-throats. If you do survive, and reach Havana in safety, the size of your bill makes you feel very “automobilious.” Sad but true, it is easier to locate some of our United States diplomatic officials at the Casino at night, than in their offices during the day. The Havana Oriental race-track has a bad name even among sports. There was no exhibition of fine, fast horses or fast time, simply a fast set who threw the races to the bettors who gave the most graft. Boozing, betting and profanity were the characteristics of the human race at the horse-race. Yet foreign, literary, dramatic and musical reviews are crowded out of newspaper columns for daily ads. and write-ups on the elevating amusement of the Casino and race-track. One cannot make an inventory of paradise in Havana without mentioning the carnival. At the Malecon I watched the Señoritas throw kisses and confetti—the confetti was six inches deep—and I wondered how it would be cleared up till I remembered the number of “rakes” there were on the boulvards. The Cuban’s idea of heaven is an endless Mardi Gras where he may throw star-dust confetti and waltz with the angels. However, the Havana carnival lacks the spontaneity and gayety of Nice, Venice and Martinique, it being more of a fashion show. The populace takes little note of time save in the dance. All society, from A to Z, thronged the theatres and club-houses where they revolved like automata on a music-box. I witnessed one ball in a small hall where six policemen were stationed to keep the dancers within the bounds of decency. Cuba has declared a moratorium, yet the people are neither paying each other nor the United States, and act as if sugar were up to 25 cents a pound. They cry for financial aid, yet I witnessed a Sunday carnival where $75,000 was foolishly thrown away like so much confetti. The Havana youth is a dissipated dude who improves his mind by strutting and staring on the piazzas, and accosting women with insulting looks and words. With him cursing passes for rhetoric. His time and money are well spent at race-track, cock-pit, roulette table and the harlot’s house. He is familiar with all liquors except the stimulating wine of progress.