Monday morning I ordered a coach for the purpose of visiting Cemetario de Espeda, named for an ancient bishop in Havana. The entrance to this cemetery is through a fine rock archway, designed only for pedestrians, and not carriages. The office has to be passed, and money handed in, before any corpse has a Christian burial in these consecrated grounds. Whatever might have been their virtues while living, the dead one here is to have wealth to take the body into a vault and the soul through purgatory. This cemetery contains not less than fifty acres of ground, around which is built a rock wall eight feet in height and about the same thickness. These walls are made of well-dressed rock, in which are vaults for interment. Inside the main inclosure are built other high walls for the same purpose. Paved walks cross each other through the grounds, covered with square-cut rock, which give a hollow echo when stepped upon, and, no doubt, contain other tombs. Vaults of sufficient size to admit a coffin are made in all these walls, which are afterward sealed, then a tablet of marble is fitted in, being secured with mortar, on which is placed the inscription, chiseled in Spanish. This tablet is arranged in accordance with the taste of the friends of those deceased who survive them. Some contain glass cases, with pictures of the Virgin; others, wreaths of black beads strung on wire, hung over the tomb. In one I saw a chameleon cozily ensconced, as though the wreath was made for him. Lizards were crawling in all directions; harmless little creatures, they liked the retirement of death's victims! The inscriptions were mostly very simple. Here are two of them: "A NUESTRO QUERIDO, HIJO TOM." "To our beloved son Thomas." "HIJA, MIA." "My beloved daughter." No mounds of earth mark the resting-place of any. Many birds of varied plumage were singing their songs among the roses, cape jasmines, pride of China, and mimosa trees. As we alighted, two bodies had just preceded us into the cemetery for deposit--a rich and a poor man, distinguishable by distinctions in death as in life. The rich man was in a fine casket, with his name engraved on the lid, and six silver handles, borne by liveried attendants, dressed in black clothes, trimmed with wide white stripes. No women were present, but a large number of dignified-looking Spanish gentlemen. The casket was placed in a vault, after which workmen, with brick and mortar, commenced closing up the orifice, which was witnessed by those in attendance until it was finished, when they retired with the same manifestations of grief as though a dead leaf had dropped from a tree. The poor man was borne on the shoulders of four rough-looking fellows, who grunted as though the body might have weighed a ton. They trotted away into a corner with the bones, and no mourners, as if it were a log, instead of a human being, where once dwelt the breath and likeness of the Eternal God.