Cienfuegos is on the direct line to Panama, and, once the isthmus is cut, must become of vast commercial importance. At present it contains less than 20,000 inhabitants, and its trade is of no exceptional value. It is not an ancient city. It only dates from the beginning of the present century, and derives its name from the celebrated Cuban general, Cienfuegos. The church, a very hideous edifice, much older than the town, contains a famous Madonna, whose robes of cloth of gold and violet velvet were presented by Queen Isabella II., and who is the object of many pious pilgrimages. The inns are fairly good, for Cuba. In one of them, La Fonda de Paris, I was nipped by a scorpion, and that hotel is consequently bound up, as far as I am concerned, with very unpleasant associations. The country round Cienfuegos is far more interesting than the town, and a long drive enabled me to form the acquaintance of a very interesting type of Cuban--the Guajiro, or white peasant, who abounds in this part of the island, where many of them cultivate a few acres, and live a life quite distinct from that of the rest of the world. The Guajiro is generally of Catalonian or Andalusian origin. Many trace their descent a long way back to ancestors who came over to Cuba a century or two ago. As a rule, the men are handsome, manly fellows. They sit a horse as if born on its back, and seem, like the centaurs of yore, to form part and parcel of the animal. Their dialect, a mixture of Spanish and of African, picked up among the negroes, is exceedingly difficult to understand. The Guajiro used to be a slave-owner, and a terribly hard task-master was he, for if there is one thing he hates more than another, it is work. He enjoys sitting in the shade, smoking his cigarette, and lazily, drowsily, watching his female belongings at their labour. On the other hand, when roused to effort, he can perform miracles: ride heaven only knows how many miles, in the blazing sun, and build a palm hut in a few hours. Living from hand to mouth, rarely, if ever, taking the trouble to cultivate his tiny domain properly, the true Guajiro is a perfect illustration of the fact that "man wants but little here below." His chief food consists of bananas hot, and bananas cold, of tomatoes, and other vegetables and fruits unknown in European markets, which are said to be both excellent and nourishing. He rarely touches meat, except pork, on which he mainly feeds, but he often catches fish for his dinner, and looks upon an iguana or a bull-frog as a desirable delicacy. When he is not a liliputian landowner, he earns his living as a herdsman, for, from childhood up, he has acquired a vast experience in the management of cattle and horses--and, above all, of niggers. Under these circumstances he is obliged to work. He hires himself out by the week or month, during the harvest season, like any other labourer, and thereby earns a fair wage, which he spends freely,