Litchfield enquirer., 1875-12-23
From Harperis MagAxine.1 ''DoN1 JoAQufM-

ha0 the summer m10nlghts Of lS74 found you in Havana, you could not have idled long smOng the grave and elegant loungers of the Alameda but you would certainly have noticed one man, tall, faultlessly attired, dark, handsome, sombre, who moved among his more quiet fellow-Cubans-for something made him restiess-conspicuous, not for yonth, less for conversation. but for the grace of his tignre and the impressive dignity of his bearing. @
 Ton would presently notice that he was much cOurted. As, with his slow and stately step, he passed one and another group, half officers, half civilians, that sat smoking and chatting in the broad moon light of the Pardue, an acquaintance would lift a cigar from his lips, and say, inyitingly, Don Joaquin!' and draw up an empty chair; or another, more free and soldier-hke. would say. ''Justinianii" and .beckon eoaxingly,- but generally without success. Then third would say, "He learned that odd habit of promenading from Simpson" And they would resume their gossipiDg upon the subject of the war
 In the Casino he was always the centre of a circle, though he listened far more than he spoke, never played, avoided the library, and seldom filled his glass. Not that he turned his back on Pleasure. hut he had caught habit Of looking her 1n the face and never smiling.
 Monasterio, the archetect, of Matanzas. but lately come to locate in Havana, said of him that he walked the earth as q man who had naa One love amir and eUMid never have another; but Monasterio was sentimentalist-ev his fast and efEemi- nate Havanese comrades admitted that and we shall see whether he was not mis- taken.
 The don's friends understood, however, that there was something wrong with his heart. Not anything silly-that even a vOluntario would smile at-but something that made life all romance and burden. No matter where he carried his:heart, by day in the bustling Calle del Mercaderes, by night under the romantic blending of lamp-light and starlight on tine Prado, in the Tacon, under the palms of the Quin- tas, in the gay hurry of the Paseos. through all the Lalls of the Casino it had one con- stant moan, like the cry of a feeble child in the arms of forlorn father, crying. ''Give! give!'
 Said Simpson. the burly English mer- chant, who used to sit in the card-roo of the Casino with his big pink fist lying be- side his glass of ale, while he failed by turns at his two great aversions. Cuban customs and womankind-said he:
 'I'd be confounded glad if Justiniani didn't have hearti Why don't he come in the eye till it gives over and backs tomorrow he fodd&s it. That's tho way with you bloody Cubans. To-day he runs away from it to the bull-fight. What a beastly bit of foolishness that bulI-fight is!''
 ''Sl," said Monasterio, who understood Q little English, and was asthetical
 ''To-night," continued the Englishman -|'to-ulght he lets it follow him to the theatre, and here tomorrow he'll kneel with it through all that deuced mummery. hate to see a fine man spoiled that way. For Justiniani is fine man. If Justinia- nj was an Englishmanswhat,a bully fellow he'd be '" -' -+~ N' +A ---'>
 ''Si, si." said the invincible courtesey of his Cuban listeners. -,--.-..
 But Justiniani was not an. Englishman; wherefore neither friends, nor incense, nor blood of bulls, nor wine, nor music, nor ladies-ahl the poor heart turned away quickly with a little shudder; none of those-no, nos anything but them.
 Nothing brought him joy. @
 One lovely night in summer the mood came upon Don Joaquin, as 1t does at times upon all men who carry hidden griefs, to tell his trouble. Whether it was the poe try of the romantic scene about him I know not; something made him for the moment. if the truth must be told, senti- mental.
 The evening was far spent. The thou sand little cabs that had been trundlin0 here and there, ,freighted with fair women, were for the most part disappearing, and the ringing pavements and tke wretched, frantic little steeds that traversed them began to have moment of partial rest. Among the trees of the Prado and Plaza still glittered countless lamps, and while the windows of the hotels and Louvre shone brilliantly on one hand, on the oth. CT the Casino beamed light and merrimens from it's deep arcades, and at stated mo- ments an intense fash darted over the scene from the majestic light-tower of the Morro. ss it's single burning eye was east now far across the Mex1can Gulf. and now over that ancient, cruel, ungodly beauty, the city of Havana. "as afRs -saa
 ''Justiniani, !" said the Englishman, as the graceful don was slowly passing where he sat, "give fellow light"
 Don Joaquin stopped, brushed the ashes from his cigar, and rendered it. The Englishman touched it to his own. and paused to condemn, in his British way, the ..fellow that sold it. The don drew one from his breast. gr
 ''Thry theezr one, he said. in the slow, gentle. hoarse voice peculiar to his people; cit ees-a-ees-a frone-" .aatssTs
 From your fathers plantation?" asked the Englishman, acepting. ....
 "Si, si, replied the don; s'z-froue me plan: :tion:l 's-the bez-a kiue."
 ''Sit down" said the Englishman, pat ting chair bottom with his broad fat hand. -. <. The Cuhan waved graceful refusal, looked up at the stars, and suddenly let. ting his trouble into his face, shook his head mourufulIv