so, resolving to make a virtue of necessity, I placed myself under the protection of heaven and retired to rest. After a sound sleep I was awoke before dawn by the hopping and cooing of numerous doves, whose cots were established not far from my bedroom. The morning soon followed their waking, and eager to gaze on the city and its environs, I made haste to dress and go abroad. The view which greeted my eyes the moment I stood on the balcony outside my door, seemed to me very strange and delightful. The sun was just rising in the east, and in such a soft and lovely sky as the tropics only know. Its calm, golden light fell on the city before me, and on the emerald mountains behind, giving to the villas and gardens that sat on the hills an aspect of unearthly beauty. The doves, finding their society invaded, flocked together and flew over a grassy square, in the midst of which stood immense stores for sugar and molasses. I walked down to the courtyard, admired its fountain, gold-fish, peacock, and tame flamingo. All in the hotel were up before I rose from bed. Cubans take advantage of the early morning, as it is much cooler, and consequently pleasanter to work then than later on in the day. Each guest enjoys a cup of coffee after getting up and takes breakfast about ten o'clock. The coffee in Cuba is well made, and has a most delicious aroma. After taking a cup I went out and saw the street alive with Chinese laborers, who were employed by the city in making extensive repairs. I sauntered towards the Church de San Carlos to hear Mass. On crossing the bridge that spans the San Juan River, which shone in the sunlight as it flowed into the sea, I observed curious-shaped boats, lighters and other craft moving on it, all occupied by queerly-dressed, bronzed, bustling men. Numerous drays and strings of packed mules, carrying heavily laden panniers, raised clouds of dust, from which I was glad to escape on entering the narrow streets near the church. Over the doors of the stores were the customary fancy signs and names. There seemed to be no end to the picturesque street-venders even at this early hour of the morning. A Chinaman, dressed in loose, blue shirt and yellow trousers, passed with a long, flat box on his head, striking it loudly with a short, thick stick, and crying out, "dulces, dulces,"--"sweet meats, sweet meats." A _panadero_ (baker) balanced on his cranium a big basket full of rolls, and carried on each arm also a palm-leaved bag full of bread. A tall negress turned a corner, holding a weighty basket, and shouting out at the top of her voice, "Naranges, dulces, naranges, dulces," "sweet oranges, sweet oranges." Soldiers, lottery-ticket venders, and an occasional negro _calasero_ dressed in gorgeous blue jacket, fringed with gold, jack boots reaching to the hips, high silk hat and silver-plated spurs, lent variety to the scene. I soon saw the church of San Carlos, a large building of dark stone,