If the inhabitants of Nuevitas have the quality of curiosity, they clearly did not have it with them at the time of our arrival. Although it is said on good authority, that the city had never before had more than twelve or fifteen visitors at one time, save soldiers or sailors, the natives betrayed no excitement and little interest in the advent of two hundred American civilians. With the exception of a handful of boatmen and a few fruit venders, not a person came to the piers to gaze at the new arrivals, and in the town the people scarcely gave themselves the trouble to look out of their open dwellings and shops at the colonists. This may have been inherent courtesy--for the Cuban is nothing if not courteous--but to us it seemed more like indifference. The Cubans are certainly an indifferent people, and at this port they appeared to have no object or interest in life. They dwelt in drowsy content, smoking their cigarettes, and doing their little buying and selling in a leisurely and heedless manner. The most of them pick up a precarious living with but little labor. These easy-going habits impress the close observer as being more the result of indifference than downright indolence, for when the occasion demands it the Cuban often exhibits surprising activity and industry. He does not, however, work for the fun of it, and it never occurs to him that it is necessary to lay up anything for the proverbial "rainy day." Accustomed to the fairest skies in the world, he never anticipates cloudy weather.