Cuba 99 



stately clusters of bamboo, the flowering trees of early- 

 spring, the ponds reflecting the magnificent trees which 

 grow on their banks, afford scenes of extraordinary loveli- 

 ness. Moreover, now there is a good road to our very door 

 and one can motor out from Havana in about seven hours 

 without unreasonable haste. As the beauty of the Garden 

 becomes more widely known, the number of visitors in- 

 creases, and anyone who is really interested in Harvard 

 College cannot but be proud of its lovely outpost in Cuba. 



Some years ago the University of Havana celebrated its 

 two hundredth anniversary. After the party was over and 

 the delegates had gone home, James Brown Scott of our 

 State Department and I remained behind, for we had been 

 told that a special convocation was to be held and we were 

 to receive honorary degrees. I wired Boston, and my wife 

 came down with my gown. No borrowed gown available 

 in Havana would fit my bulk. 



The fateful day was still and coppery hot — one of those 

 spring mornings in the tropics when it wants to rain but 

 can't and the trade wind forgets to blow. I put on my gown 

 and fell in line. The ceremony was dignified and colorful 

 in the extreme. Scott wore the red cape of a Doctor of 

 Laws and I the sky-blue cape of a Doctor of Science. The 

 placing of the biretta on our heads was the mark of the 

 bestowal of the degree. 



Scott went through his paces first, made a good speech, 

 was orated at, and received the degree. He was just about 

 the same size as the Rector of the University. Then came 

 my turn. I made an oration in my most polite Spanish. My 

 old friend, Don Carlos de la Torre, made me turn as red 



