THE CUBA REVIEW 



39 



culled from the choicest in their garden. One bright eyed little chap ran after me urging 

 the acceptance of a treasured doe skin. Our volante was laden with fruit, cocoanuts, palm 

 leaves and sugar cane, some of which we brought back to the States for friends less 

 fortunate. 



The drive home through the hush of the golden twilight was something to be 

 remembered forever. Every mile or so as we rode through the fields, we would come 

 upon a solitary laborer cooking his evening meal in the open, using simply a small 





TWO HOMES OF 



SUGAR PLANTERS, 



SET IN 



GARDENS OF LUXURIANT 



CULTIVATION. 



earthen vessel balanced over a tiny 

 charcoal fire. He would greet us 

 gravely, and courteously. 

 As the sun set and the afterglow kindled the clouds into a thousand opalescent tints, 

 a mysterious silence seemed to settle over everything as if the course of nature had been 

 suddenly arrested. The palms which had nodded so gayly in the afternoon breeze, stood 

 motionless like giant sentinels; not a breath stirred the cane fields. Quietly the shadows, 

 deepened ; night closed in and the day was done. 



