As has been said, the first settlement of the Spaniards was made on the island of Hayti. But the dreams of enormous revenue were not realized, in spite of the fact that the natives were men, women and children reduced to slavery, and all the work that was possible, without regard to any of the dictates of humanity, was exacted from them. In spite of the fact, did we say? No, rather because of it. For, owing to the hardships inflicted upon them, the native population, which originally was considerably over a million, was reduced to some fifty thousand, and it was therefore impossible to extract from the earth the riches it contained. Thus, does unbridled greed ever overleap itself. After its discovery, Cuba was twice visited by Columbus, in April, 1494, and again in 1502, but these visits do not seem to have been productive of any particular results. It was not until 1511 that the Spaniards thought it worth while to colonize Cuba, and only then because they believed that they had exhausted the resources of Hayti, in other words, that that particular orange had been sucked dry. Therefore they sent a band of three hundred men under Diego Velasquez, who had accompanied Columbus on his second voyage, to make a settlement on the island. Velasquez and his companions found the natives peaceful and happy, ruled over by nine independent chiefs. They met with but little resistance, and that little was easily overcome. Soon the weak and guileless Indians were completely subjugated. There was one instance which it is well worth while to relate here as showing the Spanish character, which centuries have not changed, and which is as cruel and bloodthirsty to-day as it was then. There was one native chief, a refugee from Hayti, named Hatuey, who had had previous dealings with the Spaniards, and knew what was to be expected from them. He had strongly opposed their invasion, was captured, and sentenced to be burned alive at the stake. As the flames curled about him, a Franciscan monk held up a crucifix before him, urging him to abjure the impotent gods of his ancestors and embrace Christianity. Hatuey, knowing well that his conversion would not save him from a horrible death, and remembering all the atrocities he had seen committed, asked where Heaven was and if there were many Spaniards there. "A great many of then," answered the monk. "Then," cried Hatuey, "I will not go to a place where I may meet one of that accursed race. I prefer to go elsewhere." Hatuey's death ended all rebellion, if struggling for one's rights can be rebellion, and the iron hand of tyranny, whose grasp has never since been relaxed, closed firmly upon the beautiful island.