was a week from "taps" to reveille! I calculated the percentage of lost of every battle of the Civil War the statistics of which I knew. All the men in the regiment were eager to get into a fight, and talked about it day and night. The desire of our hearts was to be fulfilled, and I do not think any of us hesitated. By ten o'clock we were seven or eight miles over the hill beyond the village on the coast. Suddenly the column was stopped; the order was passed down to be silent, closely followed by "Load magazines." The rapid-fire guns were hurried to the head of the column. We proceeded cautiously-scouts having been thrown out. Then came in rapid succession the commands: "L troop deploy as skirmishers," "F troop [my troop] second in the agmen column half left double time, deploy as skirmishers." "G" troop followed. I hardly think the others had time to get up before firing commenced. "F" troop hurriedly took its position on the brow of a hill, the extreme left of the firing line. We had hardly done so before the fight was opened by a rapid-fire gun. Imagine now the hilliest country you ever saw, traversed by several V-shaped roads and covered with luxuriant foliage, incidentally including "Spanish bayonet," open spaces here and there with grass waist high, and you have our battle-field. When the rapid-firing gun was heard, the boys were jubilant. "Poor devils!" "Now won't they be good!" were among the expressions of sympathy for the poor Spaniards-it afterwards turned out it was Spanish Gatling gun! The packers had stampeded with ours. It was by this machine gun that Capron and Fish were killed, and eighteen others from "L" troop killed and wounded. All along the lines the fire was taken up by both sides. Mauser bullets began to whistle around my ears, but with some difference of effect upon the nerves. Represented as well as I can, those high above my head sounded like zir-ah-ah (long drawn out); those that came nearer, zip.

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The Spaniards were somewhere in front of us-that we could tell by the report of the rifles; but they were totally hidden by the thick underbrush and high grass. Our line advanced slowly, sometimes on our knees, then in a crouching position. I was considerably excited, and had the same sensation that I have in hunting rabbits and birds, holding my gun in a similar position, impatiently awaiting order to "fire at will,"

and vainly looking around for something to shoot at.

After the fight was over, few men had the temerity to say that they got used to or did not fear the bullets. Sheridan said that when he was under fire his natural impulse was to run, which was prevented only by the exercise of his will.

Towards the end of the fight I think I worked more calmly and aimed more carefully, directing my fire towards a house which was supposed to be sheltering some of the enemy, and towards a field apparently unoccupied, but which we thought contained Spaniards hidden in the high grass. At one stage of the fight we were diligently firing directly in front of us, when an officer came running toward us shouting, "For God's sake stop! you are killing your own men! You are supporting the firing line." We were horror-struck, and a groan went up from the men. Acting Lieutenant Haskell (" F" troop) ordered the bugler to sound “ Cease firing." For half an hour we advanced slowly, holding our fire. A Spanish officer afterwards captured expressed surprise at our method of fighting, moving against them without returning their fire. The officer had made an error; we were the firing line. At one part of the fight the right flank seemed to have been pressed too hard, and we were ordered to move at double time in that direction.

A man for whom I had conceived quite a friendship during our voyage over was running bareheaded in front of me. Killed and wounded men were scattered around, and I was greatly affected by the sight of them; but the full significance of the phrase "the art of war 99 burst upon me only when I saw my friend's head shot to pieces by an explosive bullet. He fell with a thud, and I ran past his body. In a short time the enemy retreated to Santiago. Our loss was twelve killed and about forty wounded; the enemy's loss about double that number.

The wounded were sent to a hospital on the coast, and the dead were collected for burial. This was a most impressive scene, and brought tears to the eyes of many. The men, wrapped in their blankets, were laid side by side in one grave. The chaplain read the Episcopal burial service, and the regiment grouped around the grave and sang "Nearer, my God, to Thee." "Taps were sounded by the bugler, the grave was filled, and we slowly went back to our tents.

AN OLD SPANISH GUN

tion of it was visible to us as we stood on the deck of the Aransas. A water-colorist could have blocked down that first impression in light greens, and blues and mauves, with the dark greenish-red gleam of the tiled roofs, leaving glaring white patches here and there, and at the highest point the two Moorish domes of the old cathedral, the Cathedral of Santiago de Cuba. Back of the rolling foothills and surrounding, though many miles away, the entire harbor and its environments, rose the majestic mountains, cloud-capped here and there; the highest land in Cuba.

We pushed up to the nearest wharf and lay alongside what was once a Spanish steamer, now an American prize. Every newspaper man on board the Aransas was on the alert. General Shafter's orders when we left Siboney were rather exclusive. They stated that any one who ventured into San

tiago would be shot. The American infantry officer on board the prize was quizzed, and plans were made for a secret midnight sortie. Portholes were measured to see if they would admit of the passage of heads and shoulders, and finally several of the most enterprising made their escape in a small boat. But they were irately recalled by the Captain and came back looking like school-boys.

At the other side of the long wharf to which the Aransas was now made fast was another prize, a beautiful white s eamer with its Spanish crew and officers and a few señoras still on board. A picturesque gateway opened from the wharf into the town. Through this soon came a motley crowd of visitors. A Spanish private soldier was the first on hand. By various signs he made it clearly understood that he wanted something to eat. He had a bright face and an alert eye, and singled out some of our privates who were taking passage in the steerage and were at that time hanging over the rail. It was amusing to see how well they understood each other, and presently one of our men good-naturedly handed out some bread. The Spaniard thrust one piece in his blouse and ate the other as he grinned his thanks. A few small boys with baskets came eagerly to the ship's side. Two garments composed the most extensive wardrobe of which any of them could boast. They were after bread also. They looked inquiringly up at us and then jabbered speculatively among themselves. Some one offered them money, but they refused by a shake of the head and the fore-finger which they held opposite the nose as they shook it. Two Spanish Colonels wandered down to the end of the wharf, smoking cigarettes and talking earnestly; finally they entered the opposite ship. An old negro woman, coal black and of enormous proportions, holding a correspondingly large cigar in her mouth, eyed us curiously.

We had been coming to the conclusion that if we left the ship nobody would shoot us, and we were now at the point where we did not care if they did, if we could see the city first. So we simply left the ship in twos and threes and marched on the town. Some of us went to see General McKibben, who was Military Governor pro tem., and he gave us the welcome information that the stringent orders had been revoked and we were free to go wherever we would. We stepped forth

in the city as a man steps upon ice which he is not sure will hold him up. There was the yellow fever first, but that did not appear particularly evident and we very soon found, what is known now so generally, that the reports of fever within the city were greatly exaggerated. Then it was hard to realize that all hostile demonstrations had ceased. I, for one, had no idea that there were any Spanish soldiers at large in the city, and, the thought of mixing so soon among them was not without excitement. Besides the expectant feelings in which we indulged in regard to the inhabitants, the city itself, the houses, the streets, everything about us-except to those who had previously been to Cuba or to Spain-were different from anything that we had ever seen before.

Two wharves away from us the Red Cross ship, the State of Texas, was unloading her tons of provisions. Already she had risen several feet higher out of the water. The boxes, barrels, and bags were being hastily trundled to the

great covered warehouse on shore, and a vast crowd of people-who sball say how hungry? -were watching the process with absorbing interest. As time passed and it became evident that no supplies were to be delivered to them that night, they departed one by one to their homes.

My first stroll in Santiago was on the wide street or plaza which runs along the water-front. In the middle is a long grass-plot with a plaster wall on either side..

The whole plaza is about one hundred and fifty feet wide. A few benches are placed at intervals on the open side, their backs to the harbor. Opposite is a long row of low plaster houses. It took me some time to realize that people lived in them. They looked like little stables, with their doors and windows so large as to be out of all proportion to the small size of the dwelling, but when I saw family groups seated in front, who eyed us curiously as we passed, I came to the conclusion that they were seated in front of their family mansions. At the end of this plaza is a house in the midst of a little garden in which flowers of all varieties were running riot. A great royal Ponciana rose above the others. I leaned over the fence and plucked a yellow primrose, such as grow in the dear old gardens of New England.

We turned back, and as we did so a group of well-dressed men and women who had

A SPANISH BARRICADE

and had fallen back largely on her proletariat. Another thing with which I was impressed was the smiling good humor invariably pictured on the face of every Spanish soldier that we met. It was not their war.

We passed by some shops in which were hardly any customers, and every few paces we were accosted by a man, woman, or child begging for "bread." At the Military Palace we found officers of the Ninth United States Infantry. In the doorway sat a Cuban, his wife, and little baby; they rose respectfully as we passed. The Palace is a large squa: e building of stone, with spacious stone-paved rooms, and a small courtyard, with a large fountain in the center. Huge portraits of some of the Spatish sovereigns hang on the walls and gaze upon the present occupants with unchanged expression. Some of the Spanish officials talked together in a corner of one of the large rooms, and stood up with elaborate courtesy as we entered.

There seems to be no twilight in Cuba, or