The twanging of the guitar is heard everywhere,
accompanied by the high nasal voices of the natives, in various strains
of monotony. In some spots the music is more lively, accompanied by the
shaking of a gourd filled with dry seeds, which is called _ghiera_, and
whose "chick-a-chick, chick-chick" takes the place of the more poetical
castanets;--here you find one or more couples exhibiting their skill in
Cuban dances, with a great deal of applause and chattering from the
crowd around. Beside those of the populace, many aristocratic groups
parade the Plaza, in full dress, crowned with flowers and jewels;--a
more motley scene can hardly be imagined. Looking up, one sees in
curious contrast the tall palms with which the Plaza is planted, and
the quiet, wondering stars set in the deep tropical heavens.
But in our evening's programme, tea has been omitted; now, what
availeth a Bostonian without his tea? By eight o'clock, we are pensive,
"most like a tired child at a show,"--by half-past eight, stupid,--by
nine, furious. Two hours of folly, taken on an empty stomach, alarm us
for our constitution. A visit to the _cafe_ is suggested and adopted.
It proves to be crowded with people in fancy attire, who have laid
aside their masks to indulge in beer, orgeat, and sherbet.
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