_St. Jago de Cuba._
We have left Barracoa, the good father Philip, his generous sister, and
the beautiful Jacinta. Removed from them for ever, the recollection
of their goodness will accompany me through life, and a sigh for
the peaceful solitude of their retreat will often heave my breast
amid the mingled scenes of pleasure and vexation in which I shall
be again engaged. Fortunate people! who, instead of rambling about
the world, end their lives beneath the roofs where they first drew
breath. Fortunate in knowing nothing beyond their horizon; for whom
even the next town is a strange country, and who find their happiness
in contributing to that of those who surround them! The wife of the
governor could not separate herself from us. Taking from her neck a
rosary of pearls, she put it round that of Clara, pressed her in
her arms, wept on her bosom, and said she never passed a moment so
painful. She is young, her soul is all tenderness and ardour, and
Clara has filled her breast with feelings to which till now she has
been a stranger. Her husband is a good man, but without energy or
vivacity, the direct reverse of his charming wife. She can never have
awakened an attachment more lively than the calmest friendship. She
has no children, nor any being around her, whose soul is in unison
with her own. With what devotion she would love! but if a stranger to
the exquisite pleasures of that sentiment she is also ignorant of its
pains! may no destructive passion ever trouble her repose.
She walked with us to the shore and waited on the beach till we
embarked. She shrieked with agony when she clasped Clara for the last
time to her breast, and leaning against a tree, gave unrestrained
course to her tears.
The good father Philip accompanied us to the vessel, and staid till
the moment of our departure. He had previously sent aboard every
thing that he thought would be agreeable to us during the voyage. His
friendly soul poured itself forth in wishes for our happiness. May all
the blessings of heaven be showered on his head!
It is Clara's fate to inspire great passions. Nobody loves her
moderately. As soon as she is known she seizes on the soul, and centres
every desire in that of pleasing her. The friendship she felt for
Jacinta, and the impression father Philip's goodness made on her,
rendered her insensible to all around her.
The vessel was full of passengers, most of them ladies, who were
astonished at beholding such grief. One of them, a native of Jeremie,
was the first who attracted the attention of Clara. This lady, who
is very handsome, and very young, has three children of the greatest
beauty, for whom she has the most impassioned fondness, and seems to
view in them her own protracted existence. She has all the bloom of
youth, and when surrounded by her children, no picture of Venus with
the loves and graces was ever half so interesting. She is going to
join her husband at St. Jago, who I hear, is a great libertine, and
not sensible of her worth. An air of sadness dwells on her lovely
countenance, occasioned, no doubt, by his neglect and the pain of
finding a rival in every woman he meets.
There is also on board a beautiful widow whose husband was killed by
the negroes, and who, without fortune or protection, is going to seek
at St. Jago a subsistence, by employing her talents. There is something
inconceivably interesting in these ladies. Young, beautiful, and
destitute of all resource, supporting with cheerfulness their wayward
fortune.
But the most captivating trait in their character is their fondness for
their children! The Creole ladies, marrying very young, appear more
like the sisters than the mothers of their daughters. Unfortunately
they grow up too soon, and not unfrequently become the rivals of their
mothers.
We are still on board, at the entrance of the harbour of St. Jago,
which is guarded by a fort, the most picturesque object I ever saw. It
is built on a rock that hangs over the sea, and the palm trees which
wave their lofty heads over its ramparts, add to its beauty.
We are obliged to wait here till to-morrow; for this day being
the festival of a saint, all the offices are shut. No business is
transacted, and no vessel can approach the town without permission.
This delay is painful; I am on the wing to leave the vessel, though it
is only four days since we left Barracoa.--I wish to know whether we
shall meet as much hospitality here as in that solitary place. Yet why
should I expect it? Hearts like those of father Philip and the lovely
Jacinta do not abound.--How many are there who, never having witnessed
such goodness, doubt its existence?
We have letters to several families here, from the governor of Barracoa
and father Philip, and St. Louis has friends who have been long
established at this place. Therefore, on arriving, we shall feel at
home; perhaps too, we may find letters from the Cape;--God grant they
may contain satisfactory intelligence.