A Thousand-Mile Walk 
so neatly and becomingly dressed. The proud 
best-family Cubans may fairly be called beau- 
tiful, are under- rather than over-sized, with 
features exquisitely moulded, and set off with 
silks and broadcloth in excellent taste. Strange 
that their amusements should be so coarse. 
Bull-fighting, brain-splitting bell-ringing, and 
the most piercing artificial music appeal to 
their taste. 
The rank and wealth of Havana nobility, 
when out driving, seems to be indicated by the 
distance of their horses from the body of the 
carriage. The higher the rank, the longer the 
shafts of the carriage, and the clumsier and 
more ponderous are the wheels, which are 
not unlike those of a cannon-cart. A few of 
these carriages have shafts twenty-five feet in 
length, and the brilliant-liveried negro driver 
on the lead horse, twenty or thirty feet’ in 
advance of the horse in the shafts, is beyond 
calling distance of his master. 
Havana abounds in public squares, which in 
all my random strolls throughout the big town 
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