A Sojourn in Cuba 
shouts of the sentinels in measured time. Com- 
bined they made the most incessant sharp- 
angled mass of noise that I ever was doomed 
to hear. Nine or ten o’clock found me in a small 
bunk with the harbor wavelets tinkling outside 
close to my ear. The hours of sleep were filled 
with dreams of heavy heat, of fruitless efforts 
for the disentanglement of vines, or of running 
from curling breakers back to the Morro, etc. 
Thus my days and nights went on. 
\ Occasionally I was persuaded by the captain 
to go ashore in the evening on his side of the 
harbor, accompanied perhaps by two or three 
other captains. After landing and telling the 
sailors when to call for us, we hired a carriage 
and drove to the upper end of the city, to a fine 
public square adorned with shady walks and 
magnificent plants. A brass band in imposing 
uniform played the characteristic lance-noted 
martial airs of the Spanish. Evening is the 
fashionable hour for aristocratic drives about 
the streets and squares, the only time that is 
delightfully cool. I never saw elsewhere people 
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