xx Cuba

of the world then, strange, fascinating lands beckoneth. Did us rebel in their exotic spangers, come with us as we head for a port of call. Dawn over the Atlantic. Dawn, gilding the indigo waters of the Gulf Stream, touching the masthead with rosy light. As the eastern horizon brightens, dead ahead on our bow, a burning headland is rising majestically out of the glistening sea.

Our steamer plows to the balmy Caribbean toward tropical Cuba, our beckoning port of call. We are steaming now to the narrow channel of a great fourth-line harbor that grim, mortal castle and cabana fortress on the heights to our left.

And on our starboard bow lies the far-flung panorama of the capital of the Pearl of the Antilles, Havana. From the deck we can see the ancient La Punta fort, the curving sleep of the Malachon, at glorious drives curving the ocean, while beyond stretches the expanse of black-topped houses, pink in the early sunlight, a lofty modern building in the golden dome and massive bulk of the capital.

Who would they only be through the customs? Everything I have will be met. And for think we're only 90 miles from Florida. I feel as though we'd caught the Atlantic. Here the place I wore to see first is Puppy Joes.

And he can't automobile see Cuban Fables. These open cars are all right till one of these tropical rainstorms cut loose. Then watch out. I've been here before. You must like a banana. Hey everyone does. It gets you somehow.

What can you heard of Danzon Orchestra and Watson play highlight? Now that's a game for you. Modern as it is, gay, colorful Havana is truly an exotic city. A city of astonishing contrast. With the old world rubbing elbows with the new.