"Should Spain reject the present golden opportunity for developing her resources and removing her financial embarrassments, it may never come again.

"Extreme oppression, it is now universally admitted, justifies any people in endeavoring to free themselves from the yoke of their oppressors. The sufferings which the corrupt, arbitrary and unrelenting local administration necessarily entails upon the inhabitants of Cuba cannot fail to stimulate and keep alive that spirit of resistance and revolution against Spain which has of late years been so often manifested. In this condition of affairs it is vain to expect that the sympathies of the people of the United States will not be warmly enlisted in favor of their oppressed neighbors.

"The United States has never acquired a foot of territory except by fair purchase, or, as in the case of Texas, upon the free and voluntary application of the people of that independent State, who desired to blend their destinies with our own.

"It is certain that, should the Cubans themselves organize an insurrection against the Spanish government, no human power could, in our opinion, prevent the people and government of the United States from taking part in such a civil war in support of their neighbors and friends."

We have quoted thus largely from the Ostend manifesto, because it seems to us, with one exception, to be so pertinent to the present status of affairs.

The one exception is: We no longer desire the annexation of Cuba. The present war is a holy war. It has been entered into wholly and entirely from motives of philanthropy, to give to a suffering and downtrodden people the blessings of freedom which we ourselves enjoy.

Moreover, the manifesto clearly shows that the causes of Cuban uprising are of no recent date; and that, before the United States rose in its wrath, it was patient and long-suffering.

Although the Senate debated the questions raised by the manifesto for a long time, nothing resulted from the deliberations.

Questions of extraordinary moment were arising in our own country, from which terrible results were to ensue, and for the time being, indeed for years to come, everything else sank into insignificance.

Meantime, the question of independence was still being agitated in Cuba.

General Jose de la Concha, in anticipation of a rising of the Creole population threatened to turn the island into an African dependency. He formed and drilled black troops, armed the native born Spaniards and disarmed the Cubans. Everything was got in readiness for a desperate defense. The Cuban junta in New York had enlisted a large body of men and had made ready for an invasion. Under the circumstances, however, the attempt was postponed. Pinto and Estrames, Cubans taken with arms in their hands, were executed, while a hundred others were either condemned to the galleys or deported. General de la Concha's foresight and vigilance unquestionably prevented a revolution, and for his services he was created Marquis of Havana.

Then ensued a period of comparative quiet, but the party of independence was only awaiting an opportunity to strike.

Long before this, Spain had entered upon the downward path. "A whale stranded upon the coast of Europe," some one designated her. She had been accumulating a debt against her, a debt which can never be repaid.

And she has no one to blame for her wretched feeble, exhausted condition but herself—her own obstinacy, selfishness and perversity.

Truly, Spain has changed but little, and that only in certain outward aspects, since the time of Torquemada and the Inquisition. She is the one nation of Europe that civilization does not seem to have reached.

The magnificent legacy left her by her famous son, Christopher Columbus, has been gradually dissipated; the last beautiful jewel in the crown of her colonial possessions, the "Pearl of the Antilles" is about to be wrested from her.

Her case is indeed a pitiable one, and yet sympathy is arrested when we remember that her reward to Columbus for his magnificent achievements was to cover his reputation with obloquy and load his person with chains.

CHAPTER IV.

THE TEN YEARS' WAR.

For about fourteen years after 1854, the outbreaks in Cuba were infrequent, and of little or no moment. To all intents and purposes, the island was in a state of tranquility.

In September, 1868, a revolution broke out in the mother country, the result of which was that Queen Isabella was deposed from the throne and forced to flee the country.

This time Cuba did not proclaim her loyalty to the Bourbon dynasty, as she had done some sixty years before. She had learned her lesson. She knew now how Spanish sovereigns rewarded loyalty, and the fall of Isabella, instead of inspiring the Cubans with sympathy, caused them to rush into a revolution, an action which, paradoxical as it may seem, was somewhat precipitate, although long contemplated.

All Cuba had been eagerly looking forward to the inauguration of political reforms, or to an attempt to shake of the pressing yoke of Spain. At first it was thought that the new government would ameliorate the condition of Cuba, and so change affairs that the island might remain contentedly connected with a country of which she had so long formed a part.

But these hopes were soon dissipated, and the advanced party of Cuba at once matured their plans for the liberation of the island from the military despotism of Spain.

A declaration of Cuban independence was issued at Manzanillo in October, 1868, by Carlos Manuel de Cespedes, a lawyer of Bayamo.

This declaration began as follows:

"As Spain has many a time promised us Cubans to respect our rights, without having fulfilled her promises; as she continues to tax us heavily, and by so doing is likely to destroy our wealth; as we are in danger of losing our property, our lives and our honor under further Spanish dominion, therefore, etc., etc."

Thus was inaugurated what was destined to prove the most protracted and successful attempt at Cuban freedom, up to that time.

It is certain that the grievances of the islanders were many, and this was even recognized to a certain extent in Spain itself.

In a speech delivered by one of the Cuban deputies to the Cortes in 1866 occurs this passage:

"I foresee a catastrophe near at hand, in case Spain persists in remaining deaf to the just reclamations of the Cubans. Look at the old colonies of the American continent. All have ended in conquering their independence. Let Spain not forget the lesson; let the government be just to the colonies that remain. Thus she will consolidate her dominion over people who only aspire to be good sons of a worthy mother, but who are not willing to live as slaves under the sceptre of a tyrant."

In 1868 the annual revenue exacted from Cuba by Spain was in the neighborhood of twenty-six million dollars; and plans were in progress by which even this great revenue was to be largely increased. Not one penny of this was applied to Cuba's advantage. On the contrary, it was expended in a manner which was simply maddening to the Cubans.

The officials of the island, be it understood, were invariably Spaniards. The captain-general received a salary of fifty thousand dollars a year; at this time, this sum was twice as much as that paid to the President of the United States. The provincial governors obtained twelve thousand dollars each, while the Archbishop of Santiago de Cuba and the Bishop of Havana were paid eighteen thousand dollars apiece. In addition to these large salaries, there were perquisites which probably amounted to as much again.

Even the lowest offices were filled by friends of Spanish politicians. These officials had no sympathy with Cuba, and cared nothing for her welfare, save in so far as they were enabled to fill their own