The Guajiro of bygone times, with his bright eyes and his guitar, is the starving reconcentrado of to-day. I like to think of him as he was, not as he is. Let us, therefore, behold the Señor and the Señora Guajiro in all the glory of their war-paint, _en route_ for the procession of the Angel, for instance, in their village church of Santa-Fé. The Señor is dressed up in all his Sunday go-to-meeting best, a costume very like that of our own coster-boys, and the same blood doubtless courses through their veins, for I am assured, on authority, that Whitechapel 'Arry and his "donah" originally came from the sunny land of Spain, in Merry King Charles II.'s time, to sell oranges to benighted Britishers, and that, liking us and our ways, he then and there condescended to take up his abode amongst us. Certainly the Cuban Guajiro shares 'Arry's propensity for mother-of-pearl and silver buttons, with which he covers every available part of his clothing, his jacket, his waistcoat, and his trousers. By her lord's side tramps the faithful Guajira, a very beautiful young matron, frequently, with delicate, regular features and soft brown eyes with sweeping lashes. Her gown is made of gaudy chintz, patterned with flaring bunches of roses. Most probably the fabric was made in England in the tasteless early Victorian days, and intended as furniture covering. Its train sweeps up a cloud of dust, for it would be derogatory for any respectable Guajira to lift her skirts like those miserable English and American women, who hold up their petticoats to their knees, and go picking their way along as if they were treading on eggs and were afraid of breaking them. The very negresses know better. Nevertheless, the Guajira takes good care to display her very small, brown, stockingless feet, thrust into a pair of green or red zapatos, or slippers, in which she intends to dance the Creola. Over her shoulders is a China crape shawl, either white or rose-coloured--a wedding present,--and her raven tresses are set off by a bunch of wax-like stephanotis or of scarlet hibiscus. Before and behind their parents trot the "family," some dozen of them, the baby borne in the arms of a small but very gorgeous negress. As to these little brown ones, I have seen them trotting along without a stitch of clothing, with their hair very neatly brushed and their small tawny feet encased in patent leather shoes, the whole shaded by an old scarlet parasol. Sometimes, however, the Guajiro and the Guajira may be particularly well-to-do, and in this case they do not condescend to trapese along the dusty roads like the common of mortals, negroes and mulattoes and "sich'z," but make a triumphal entry on horseback, or on a little Cuban pony, gloriously bedecked with silver and brass bells and buttons, and long tags of yellow and red worsted balls. Or else they come along on bullock-back, the Guajira sitting sideways on the beast's back, keeping her position by clinging to her husband's waistband.