648 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Great Plateaus Rolled Away to Meet Volcanic Mountain Peaks. 
briskly along the smooth white road that wound 
like a huge snake toward our destination. 
All around us stretched gardens of fertility— 
East, west and south the country rolled away 
in a succession of rambling hillocks and wide, 
shallow valleys. Now and again a palm-decked 
promontory would climb a little higher into the 
sky and be seen from a greater distance; or a 
valley more spacious than the rest, partly under 
cultivation and partly filled with guava bushes 
and a wild jungle growth, opened before us in 
a plain of shimmering green; while far beyond 
the tobacco fields and valleys and jungled foot¬ 
hills, the mountain walls of La Cierras de los 
Organus loomed saddle-backed and shambling 
against the deep blue of the horizon. 
With the tinkling of the wagon bell in our ears 
we jogged steadily along under the mid-day 
sun. Overhead great buzzards wheeled [azily, 
while from the undergrowth bordering the road¬ 
side came the warblings of a variety of tropical 
song birds. The air was sweet with the perfume 
of flowers and luxuriant vegetation and the sun 
smote hot on the chalk-like bodes of the palm 
trees, and filtered in mottled shadows throuerh 
the silken ironds above. Very often we caught 
a glimpse of the close-thatched native huts, made 
of dried palmetto leaves, situated on the edge 
of small clearings or facing perhaps directly on 
the road. Quite as frequently we passed the 
proprietors of these plantations, black, swarthy 
fellows, clad in soiled white drill, with huge 
machetes swinging from their belts. 
The machete, by the way, is not only used by 
the Cuban farmers as a means of defense, but 
serves chiefly a variety of purposes as an agri¬ 
cultural implement. And as a matter of fact, 
these wayside individuals we encountered might 
just as well have been carrying a rake, or hoe, 
or brush hook, so far as the actual utility of 
the weapon was concerned. For at the time I 
speak of Cuba had undergone a pacific and 
cleansing treatment at the hands of the United 
States, and except in isolated cases the machete 
had been civilized to better and more fruitful 
purposes than the chopping up of people in in¬ 
surgent warfare. 
Our approach to San Diego was signaled by 
the gleam of red-tiled roofs and white-washed 
buildings fully a mile distant on the road ahead. 
Presently we rattled over a plank bridge under 
which gushed a tumbling mountain brook. Still 
farther along and we passed a quaint old Span¬ 
ish church, with age-pitted bell tower and crum¬ 
bling door step; and finally to the merry clang¬ 
ing of the wagon bell, turned sharply to the left, 
and were, fairly launched on the main thorough¬ 
fare of the town. 
San Diego lies at the western extremity of a 
sloping palm-forested valley. At its very doors 
one might say, the San Diego River sets its 
green current, flowing through thickets of deli¬ 
cate bamboo and cutting sluiceways between min¬ 
iature chalk cliffs that gleam and flash whitely 
in the tropic sunshine. Close to its banks, in 
fact, not more than a few feet from where the 
water foams and eddies along a strip of pebbly 
beach, are the sulphur baths, springs of eternal 
youth they should be called, for after a dip in 
the bubbling, ill-smelling pool, you come forth 
feeling wonderfully invigorated and always in 
possession of an alarmingly large appetite. 
In every direction from this little “one horse” 
village, with its mixed and curious population, 
the most delightful scenery unfolds before the 
eyes—exquisite in its contrasts and endless va¬ 
riety. And beyond the plantation fields, be¬ 
yond the acres of scrub jungle and palm dotted 
foothills, the mountains soar blue and clear cut, 
exhaling at all hours of the day the purest ozone 
of a tropical wilderness. 
The morning of our arrival at San Diego, the 
proprietor of the hostlery, Senor C.—(or I 
should really say .doctor, for this worthy gentle¬ 
man acted as the medico and general practi¬ 
tioner of the district) bade us welcome from the 
doorstep and forthwith conducted us into the 
cool roomy interior. 
It would be hard to imagine a place of more 
delightful sojourn. To begin with it was spot¬ 
lessly clean. From the front room, with its high 
ceiling, plaited mats and cool wicker furniture, 
to the bed-rooms kept in immaculate order by 
Francesca, the black maid of all work, there was 
nothing in the entire household to displease one 
with a sense of disorder or neglect. 
Beyond the main living-room an airy [stone- 
flagged apartment gave out on an enclosed gar¬ 
den, glowing with orange trees, and great bushes 
of purple burganvillia. It was here we ate our 
meals,—and such meals! Copola of wild pigeon, 
stewed quail, curried game fowl, rum omlet, and 
the best and sweetest of tropical fruits we hap¬ 
pily discussed there twice a day and washed down 
the whole with black coffee, and rioja clarete, a 
mild native wine of delicious flavor. 
The charm of this room lay not only in its 
delectable offerings moreover, but also in its im- 
