Continentals, and be thankful, and visit the Nassauese, bringing beef, butter, and beauty,--bringing a few French muslins to replace the coarse English fabrics, and buxom Irish girls to outwork the idle negro women,--bringing new books, newspapers, and periodicals,--bringing the Yankee lecturer, all expenses paid, and his drink found him. All these good things, and more, the States have for the Nassauese, of whom we must now take leave, for all hands have been piped on deck. We have jolted for three weary days over the roughest of ocean-highways, and Cuba, nay, Havana, is in sight. The worst cases are up, and begin to talk about their sea-legs, now that the occasion for them is at an end. Sobrina, the chief wit of our party, who would eat sour-sop, sapodilla, orange, banana, cocoa-nut, and sugar-cane at Nassau, and who has lived upon toddy of twenty-cocktail power ever since,--even she is seen, clothed and in her right mind, sitting at the feet of the prophet she loves, and going through the shawl-and-umbrella exercise. And here is the Moro Castle, which guards the entrance of the harbor,--here go the signals, answering to our own. Here comes the man with the speaking-trumpet, who, understanding no English, yells out to our captain, who understands no Spanish. The following is a free rendering of their conversation:-- "Any Americans on board?" "Yes, thank Heaven, plenty." "How many are Filibusteros?" "All of them." "Bad luck to them, then!" "The same to you!" "_Caramba_" says the Spaniard. "--------," says the Englishman. And so the forms of diplomacy are fulfilled; and of Havana, more in my next. [To be continued.] THE PROFESSOR AT THE BREAKFAST-TABLE. WHAT HE SAID, WHAT HE HEARD, AND WHAT HE SAW. _The Professor finds a Fly in his Teacup_. I have a long theological talk to relate, which must be dull reading to some of my young and vivacious friends. I don't know, however, that any of them have entered into a contract to read all that I write, or that I have promised always to write to please them. What if I should sometimes write to please myself?