University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER XV.

Instead of the posada by the water-side, I
take up my quarters at a hotel kept by Ensor,
an American, and his sister. Here the hours,
cooking, and chief arrangements are in the
fashion of the country, as they should be, but
there is more of that attention to guests
which we are accustomed to at home, than
the Cuban hotels usually give.

The objects to be visited here are the Cumbre
and the valley of the Yumurí. It is too
late for a morning ride, and I put off my visit
until afternoon. Gazzaniga and some of the
opera troupe are here; and several Americans
at the hotel, who were at the opera last night,
tell me that the people of Matanzas made a
handsome show, and are of opinion that there
was more beauty in the boxes than we saw at
the Villanueva. It appears, too, that at the

Retreta, in the Plaza de Armas, when the band
plays, and at evening promenades, the ladies
walk about, and do not keep to their carriages
as in Havana.

As soon as the sun began to decline, I set
off for the Cumbre, mounted on a pacer, with
a negro for a guide, who rode, as I soon discovered,
a better nag than mine. We cross
the stone bridges, and pass the great hospital,
which dominates over the town. A regiment,
dressed in seersucker and straw hats, is drilling,
by trumpet call, and drilling well, too,
on the green in front of the barracks; while
we take our winding way up the ascent of
the Cumbre.

The bay, town, and shipping lie beneath us;
the Pan rises in the distance to the height of
some 3,000 feet; the ocean is before us, rolling
against the outside base of the hills; and, on
the inside, lies the deep, rich, peaceful valley
of the Yumurí. On the top of the Cumbre,
commanding the noblest view of ocean and
valley, bay and town, is the ingenio of a
Mr. Jenkes, a merchant, bearing a name that
would put Spanish tongues to their trumps to

sound, were it not that they probably take refuge
in the Don Guillermo, or Don Enrique,
of his Christian name. The estate bears the
name of La Victoria, and is kindly thrown
open to visitors from the city. It is said to
be a model establishment. The house is large,
in a classic style, and costly, and the negro
quarters, the storehouses, mechanic shops, and
sugar-house are of dimensions indicating an
estate of the first class.

On the way up from the city, several fine
points of sight were occupied by villas, all of
one story, usually in the Roman or Grecian
style, surrounded by gardens and shade-trees,
and with every appearance of taste and wealth.

It is late, but I must not miss the Yumurí;
so we dive down the short, steep descent, and
cross dry brooks and wet brooks, and over
stones, and along bridle-paths, and over fields
without paths, and by wretched hovels, and
a few decent cottages, with yelping dogs and
cackling hens and staring children, and between
high, overhanging cliffs, and along the
side of a still lake, and after it is so dark that
we can hardly see stones or paths, we strike a

bridle-path, and then come out upon the road,
and, in a few minutes more, are among the
gas-lights and noises of the city.

At the hotel, there is a New York company
who have spent the day at the Yumurí, and
describe a cave not yet fully explored, which
is visited by all who have time,—abounding
in stalactites, and, though much smaller, reminding
one of the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky.

I cannot leave Matanzas without paying my
respects to the family to whose kindness I owe
so much. Mr. C———lives in a part of the
suburbs called Versailles, near the barracks,
in a large and handsome house, built after
the style of the country. There I spend an
agreeable evening, at a gathering of nearly
all the family, sons and daughters, and the
sons-in-law and daughters-in-law. There is
something strangely cosmopolitan in many of
the Cuban families,—as in this, where are
found French origin, Spanish and American
intermarriage, education in Europe or the
United States, home and property in Cuba,
friendships and sympathies and half a residence

in Boston or New York or Charleston,
and three languages at command.

Here I learn that the Thirty Millions Bill
has not passed, and, by the latest dates, is not
likely to pass.

My room at Ensor's is on a level with the
court-yard, and a horse puts his face into the
grating as I am dressing, and I know of nothing
to prevent his walking in at the door, if he
chooses, so that the negro may finish rubbing
him down by my looking-glass. Yet the house
is neatly furnished and cared for, and its keepers
are attentive and deserving people.