The insurgents are more to be dreaded, in the adoption of their present tactics, than regularly organized troops. They are acquainted with every portion of the country--all its defiles and elevations--with their methods and places for secure retreat always selected. They dart about like sunbeams, dealing destruction to every thing in their reach with the celerity of hurricanes. The regular vocations of life are interrupted--all the energies of the nation being expended on arms, and not on arts, which has already sounded the death-knell to their national prosperity. Many Spaniards are now nursing the delusion of peace, but it is only a shadow, evanescent as the gorgeous hues which deck their evening skies. Foreigners, as they pass through the country, feel some anxiety for their safety when they approach the track of the insurgents so close as to see the smoking ruins of burning sugar-houses. Strangers who visit here now, with proper passports and correct deportment, will be protected. Persons who either cannot or will not give any account of themselves are regarded with suspicion, which is the same in all countries that are in a state of insurrection. In traveling two hundred miles we change cars four times. On the trains we have none of those insinuating, untiring, vigilant, prize-candy boys, to thrust their wares in our faces, just as our nerves are settling from the last jolt, to worry us until we have to make an investment in their sweet flour-paste and brass jewelry, to be rid of them. The coolies seem to do the peddling at the stopping-places. They have for sale sponge-cakes, peeled oranges, bananas, goat's-milk cheese, and guava-jelly. What a medley of all nations is seen when we halt! There is something in the atmosphere opposed to silence, yet everybody keeps in a good humor. When the train stops there is no hurry or bustle--all the ladies sit down, while the men walk up to the bar for a drink. The favorite beverage is made from the _penalis_, or "_long kiss_"--a hollow-shaped banana, molded from sugar, mixed with wine and water. There is no drinking behind screens--it is all public, in a large room, with seats for passengers to sit on. The Cubans drink small quantities each time, yet no one gets drunk, the wines being so light and pure. Each departure of the train is announced by the ringing of a large dinner-bell held in the hands of a negro. The coolies are employed on the cars, both as firemen and brakemen. Our coolie brakeman went to sleep between each stopping-place, but never was behind time when the engine whistled down brakes. The depots are not large; but each one has a flower-yard, or garden, attached, arranged with taste, where the scarlet hibiscus blooms with its showy petals, that flame like "mimic suns." They gave us flowers freely when we motioned for them; but they gave us looks too, as the inhabitants in the center of the island are not much accustomed to seeing foreigners. Although it is only the first