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 ard 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 wbite 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 great.y exaggerated. Then it was hard to realize that all hostile demonstrations had cea. ed. 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 shall 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

We turned into a narrow street which led up the hill to the Cathedral plaza, upon which face also the Military Palace, the Venus Café, and the swell Cuban Club. Several Spanish

THE CHURCH OF SAN THOMAS
The oldest church in Santiago.

officers rode clattering past. The streets of Santiago are all paved with large stones, some of which are sinking to join some subterranean geological stratum, leaving their companion-pieces in their original position. The sidewalks-where there are any-are

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,

66

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 Spanish 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

none worth mentioning. It was dark when we left the Governor's Palace. There are some street-lamps in Santiago, and a little boy who was lighting them on the plaza came to us for a match. The streets were not only dark but quiet. The houses are all built close to the street and close to each other. They are of plaster or of stone. The windows and doors are huge. The former are without window-glass, but are heavily barred instead, and most of the doors are so large that there is a small door for ordinary

morning walk in Cuba, and we were all abroad at that time the next day. I went straight to the Cathedral. The whole city seemed awake and up, and how different it looked bathed in the sunshine of a cloudless day! The coloring of the houses stood out vividly, as did also the crumbling plaster and the marks traced by the elements of wind and rain on buildings that had stood a hundred years or more. I wondered if repairing was ever done in Santiago, for I saw no signs of it. On the way to the Cathedral

use cut into them at one side. As the darkness falls the inside shutters are thrown open, and the families sit in the windows, or out on the porch, if there happens to be one-it is generally inclosed by shutters-or in the doorway on the side streets. Near the top of the bill on which stands the Cathedral are houses of the wealthier classes, and a number of powdered señoritas-those who had not fled to El Caney-regarded us as curiously from behind their heavy bars as we regarded them.

Half-past six is an excellent hour for a

As it is on a street

we passed the market. which leads up a steep hill, great walls of stone have been built, presenting an unbroken surface to the street, and on the top of this the market rests. The stalls were almost empty, except for a little fruit, yet people hovered about, drawn there, perhaps, by the force of association.

There were a few early worshipers in the Cathedral, and as we approached the old bell clanged forth, mellow, deep toned, well seasoned. The few women who were telling their beads were not so absorbed in their devotions

that they had no time to regard visitors. On the contrary, all faces were turned in our direction. A priest and a little acolyte in black cassocks stood near by, and finally came nearer in order to observe us more closely. The priests form a picturesque elemen: in Santiago. I had noticed them the

A SMALL CUBAN

night before walking along the lower plaza in long black cassocks and black beaver shove!hats. They are all typical Spaniards; and for that reason I could not help wondering if the young priest at the Cathedral was filled with resentment or curiosity. We walked

ONE OF THE SPANISH TRENCHES
With a box of Mauser bullets.

inside and pointed to our cameras. He nodded his head, so we set them up and took some photographs of an opposite shrine. Presently the priest beckoned to us to follow him, and we did so, passing a tinsled effigy in the corner of Alfonso Something-or-Other on

horseback waving a banner in the air. Behind the high altar we went, and into the sacristry, and from thence to a pair of stairs which led to a balcony overlooking the church, where we took more pictures. In the rooms below which we had passed I had caught a glimpse of some old portraits, so when we

went down again we lingered to look. There were the pictures in oil of all the Archbishops of Santiago de Cuba, beginning with the first one in 15. I cannot call them portraits, because that would imply a certain degree of likeness, and I should be sorry if they bore a resemblance to any of the godly and venerable Archbishops of Santiago. But they were so quaint and flat and altogether fascinating, always bringing into such prominence the archiepiscopal ring, that I could have gazed at them much longer. Most of them were hung in the council room, in the center of which stood a massive old table, and chairs of the same pattern were grouped about it.

We fortunately ran across an intelligent Cuban who kindly took us in tow and conducted us in the least time to all the places

to which we should have gone. First of all, we took him back to breakfast with us and extended to him the privilege of eating our awful ship's fare which, poor though it was, I am sure he appreciated very highly. In all probability he had left an empty larder at home.

There was only one house in Santiago which was injured very much by our shells. This stands close to the oldest church in the city. The shell fell in through the roof and exploded, going out again at several places and leaving behind it a scene of ruin and confusion. It wrecked two rooms, but the rest of the house is intact. The old parish priest welcomed us at the church across the street and stood benignantly by while we set off a flash-light.

From the church we clambered up a so