Gambling, by the way, may be said to be universal. Every one, from the rich planter down to the lowest laborer and beggar, is given up to this vice, and will squander away every dollar if the mood takes him. There is nothing but hospitality on the island. The people are exceedingly polite to strangers, and the traveler who offers money deeply offends his host. A curious feature of the streets is the milk delivery, which is not unlike that prevailing in Cuba. This takes place before and during the noon, or breakfast, hour, breakfast being taken here between 12 and 2 o'clock. Sometimes the milk is still being sold at 4 or 5 o'clock. The milkman drives from door to door from one to four or five cows, each branded with a number and usually one or more of them accompanied by a calf. The driver cries his approach, and the customer fetches sends out a pan, pail, bottle, or cup, which he hands to the milkman. The milkman puts into the receptacle the quantity of milk paid for, which he induces the cow to yield after the usual manner. Mr. W. G. Morrisey gives an interesting description of how funerals are conducted in Porto Rico. He says that when a native dies preparations are immediately made for the burial. No women are allowed to attend the funeral and the casket is carried on the shoulders of four natives. The cemetery being reached, the remains are deposited in one of the many vaults in the place, provided the sum of four pesos per year is paid to the authorities. If this sum is not forthcoming the corpse is placed in a corner of the graveyard and left there to decay. Mr. Morrisey said it was a common occurrence to see seven or eight funerals pass by every day. Another thing that struck Mr. Morrisey was the railroad that runs from Ponce to Playo. The train is made up of an old-fashioned engine and three cars. There are first, second and third class coaches, the only difference between the first and second class being the seats in the first class coach, which are cushioned. It is first class in name only, and very few of the visitors and the better class of natives use it, because of the fact that the cushions are full of vermin. Everything seems to be filthy, from the Hotel Ingleterra, which is considered the best house in Ponce, to the most miserable of huts on the outskirts of the city. Mr. Morrisey said that it is not a question of one place being cleaner than the other, but one place not being as filthy as another.