with his face painted black? Here is one,
whose face and bare arms are besmeared
with soot and ink. His thick lips start
out in bright scarlet relief, his eyebrows
are painted white, and his spare garments
(quite filthy enough before) are bedaubed
with tar and treacle. This piece of grimy
humanity is worthy of note as showing
that the despised nigger is really not so
black as he is painted; if the truth were
known, perhaps, the man himself has
adopted this disguise with a view to prove
to the meditative world that there may yet
be another, and a blacker, population!

It is not wise to be too contemplative
and to stay at home on a carnival day in
Cuba. All the world recognises you in the
character of a moralising recluse, and all
the carnival world will surely make you its
victim. As I sit, despising these frivolities,
as I call them, a great comparsa of whites,
the genuine article, comes rushing along in
my direction. Out of the carnival season,
the dramatis personæ of this comparsa are
respectable members of society in white
drill suits, and Spanish leather boots.
Today they are disreputable-looking and
unrecognisable. Their faces are painted
black, red, and mulatto-colour. Their
disguise is of the simplest, and withal most
conspicuous nature, consisting of a man's
hat and a woman's chemise; low-necked,
short-sleeved, and reaching to the ground.
They dance, they sing, and jingle rattles
and other toys, and are followed by a
band of music of the legitimate kind. In
it are violins, a double-bass, a clarionette,
a French horn, a bassoon, a brace of
tambours, and the indispensable nutmeg-
grater, performed upon with a piece of
wire exactly as the actual grater is by the
nutmeg. The musicians, who are all
respectably dressed blacks, hired for the
occasion, play the everlasting Danza
Cubana. This is Cuba's national dance,
impossible to be described as it is impossible
to be correctly played by those who have
never heard it as executed by the native.
In a country where carnivals are objected
to by the police, I have heard but one
pianoforte player who, in his very excellent
imitation of the quaint music of La
Danza, has in the least reminded me of
the original with its peculiar hopping staccato
bass and running and waltzing treble;
but he had long been a resident in the
"Pearl of the Antilles."

The comparsa just described has halted
before my balcony; as I guessed it would
from the fact that its members were white
people and possibly friends. Oh, why did
I not accept José Joaquin's invitation last
evening to make one of a comparsa of wax
giantesses! Here they come straight into
my very balcony with their "Holá Don
Gualterio. No meconóces?" in falsetto
voices. Do I know you? How should I
in that ungentlemanly make-up? Let me
see. Yes, Frasquito it is, by all that's grimy!
What! and Tunicú, too, and Bemba? I
feel like Bottom the weaver when he
summoned his sprites. Que hay amigos?
By this time my amigos have taken unlawful
possession of my innermost apartments.
It's of no use to expostulate. I must bottle
up my indignation and uncork my pale ale.
I do the latter by producing all my
English supply of that beverage; but it proves
insufficient. The thirst of my burglarious
intruders is not easily sated. The cry is
still: Cerveza! Convinced that I have
exhausted all my beer, they are content to fall
back upon aguardiente; which very plebeian
liquor, to judge from their alcoholic breath,
my guests have been falling back upon in
a variety of ways ever since the morning!

Musica! Vamos á bailar! The chemised
cavaliers propose a dance. Musica! The
musica strikes up with a deafening echo
under my spacious roof. At the inspiring
tones of La Danza, a dozen spectators from
the pavement, consisting chiefly of mulatto
girls and white neighbours, invite
themselves in. Here's a pretty thing! An
extemporised public masked ball in my private
dwelling in the middle of the day! If this
were Cornwall-road, Bayswater, I'd have
every one of them prosecuted for trespass.
Music—a! Aguardiente! They combine
singing with dancing, and mix these with
cigar smoking and aguardiente drinking.
To save my credit, the genuine white
brandy I provide is diluted to ten degrees
of strength, and costs only two dollars and
a quarter the garafon! I find myself
suddenly whirled round by one of my
uninvited visitors. I would not have selected
such a partner, but I have no choice.
Smoke is said to be a disinfectant; so I
smoke as I dance. For the closeness of
the atmosphere, and the muskiness of mu-
latto girls, are not congenial to one's ol-
factory and respiratory organs. At last
the final drop of aguardiente is drained,
the music ceases, and my friends, and my
friends' friends, and the strangers that
were without my gate, take their not
unwelcome departure.

This has been a warning, which, as I
live, I'll profit by. I extemporise and