I am not one of those who see an angel in every Cuban rebel, and a devil in every Spaniard; I hold that in this, as in almost every other human concern, the case, to put it vulgarly, is "six to the one, and half a dozen to the other." There are grave faults, nay, crimes, on both sides, and the condition of the island in the present half of the century, and especially during the last five years, is a disgrace to civilization. When individual Spaniards have tried to do their best for the Cubans, their good intentions have not received much response from their superiors. Take, for instance, Martinez Campos, who was sent out to the island some years back as Commander-in-Chief; he was an honourable and humane man, desirous of doing the best he could to reduce bitterness and evolve peace. But his efforts were frequently baulked by the home Government, which was for ever pressing him to take active measures. He knew the island, having been there twenty years before, and under exceptional circumstances, but he was powerless to plant the olive branch he had brought with him from Spain, whence he had started amidst the most enthusiastic expectations, and to which he returned, not unlike the proverbial rocket that went up in a blaze of glory, to fall a flat, burnt stick. I cannot forbear thinking that the gravest mistake of the Spanish Government in the whole of this Cuban business was its peremptory recall of Martinez Campos, and, above all, the despatch of such a man as General Weyler, with the strictest orders to put the rebellion down at any cost.