Mary Baldwin College - Bluestocking Yearbook (Staunton, VA)

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The Aiignsta Seminary Annual. 23 A Day in and about a Tropical City. IT is a warm, bri i:lit morning, and we find our wide straw hats very agreeable as we start out on an ex])edition through the city. AVe walk slowly, for we find the scenes of a I ' razilian town novel and interesting to us. The streets are crowded, for it is market day, and the people hurry l)y in never-ceasing streams. Here comes the water-carrier with his big barrel on wheels, while the water leaks out through its cracks and trickles down upon the pavement. Then follows the mo- lasses man, with his tin cans rattling noisily in the rickety cart, while now and then one sees the mischievous black eyes of a sable urchin peering over the sides of the wagon. And now comes the bird- seller with his numerous cages, in which the yellow canaries twitter, the parrakeets croak, and the scissor bii ' ds utter their rasping tweet-tweet. One by one come in quick succession milk wagons, fruit wagons, vegetable wagons, beggars on foot and beggars on horseback, pmnpkin-laden donkeys and tame goats which take possession of the sidewalks and leave the street to peddlers and to other pedestrians, snake-sellers, charm-sellers and many more, all of whom press their wares eagerly upon you. Now the sun shines down more fiercely and the bustle subsides into lazy inactivity. The shopkeepers mount on their counters and sluml)er peacefully, their wives take out their lacework and swiftly draw out the threads as they gossip, while the goats and dogs stretch themselves out on the sidewalk to bask in the sun. Here is the market place, and tempted by the delicious fruits we pass in through the wide gates. Here are busy housekeepers seeking something for dinner, children spending their few pemiies on ginger-bread men and candy animals, while now and then one sees a pretty Italian maiden in her scarlet bodice, merrily barter- ing for a string of coral with which to ornament her slender neck. Kear the entrance sits an old woman whose bare neck and arms are gorgeously decked in necklaces and bracelets of colored beads. Spread around her on the floor are her wares : bunches of bananas, huge cabbage-heads, and withered herbs sure cures for all diseases.

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22 The Augusta Seminary Annual. would give a peculiar signal, and heavy iron doors were pulled to ; when the policeman passed, the scrambling and shrill chattering of a few minutes ago was hushed into silence, and no sign of gambling-den was visible. Their temples of worship are perhaps the most interesting spots in China-Town, On one side of a large room three huge and hid- eous images were sitting upon a platform, and before each god was a little bowl of tea which might have stood there for a week. Our loquacious guide showed us how they worshipped their idols and burned incense before them, and called our attention to two large blocks of light- wood on one side of the room, representing battle scenes, most delicately carved with only a small knife. From the temple we were led down some dark, narrow, under- ground steps ; the smell of opium grew stronger as we descended until it almost suffocated us. This underground hole was divided into many little cell-like rooms, and peeping into one of them we saw two men lying on a dirty couch with a little lighted lamp be- tween them, each smoking a long-handled opium pipe. The air was so offensive that we soon saw enough of opium- smoking, and we next made a brief visit to the Chinese opera- house, a rude, unsightly affair, whose greatest objects of interest were the highly colored and exquisitely woven garments of the actors ; then we went to a beautiful restaurant, witli hard-wood floors, flnely carved walls and handsome ebony chairs inlaid with ivory ; here we were served with delicious tea and cake. Then we took a car for our hotel just as a faint light Ijegan to glimmer in the east. Ida Ijell Gossom.

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24 The Augusta Seminary Annual. A little further on stands a Turkish peddler with his pack. One by one he takes np his rings and gaudy breastpins and tries to induce you to buy them, now and then holding up a little coral hand which he assures you will keep off the evil eye. Still further on is the coffee talkie, where all the beggars in rags and tatters assemble to get their cup of coffee before setting out on their morning rounds. Then comes the sugar-cane stall, tilled with long, yellow, jointed stalks. The sun flickers in pleasantly on the varied scene and we linger long, rather reluctant to leave, but at last we stroll off to rest under the shade in the neighboring srpiare. Merrily the water gushes out from the dragon mouths of the fountains upon the stones below and dances along under the spreading mimosa trees spangled over with crimson blossoms, then rushes down into the green meadow, gently rocking the purple water-lilies resting on its bosom. What a busy throng gathers around — mothers, maidens and children — and the sound of happy voices iioats out upon the air. Some work Imsily and silently as they whirl the clothes around their lieads and strike them on the broad, flat rocks, while others chatter gaily as they lazily swing their garments in the murmuring rivulet. At last the work is done and the little group scatters, some to wander down the stream in search of their truant children, others to seat themselves on the grass and rest. One maiden reclining on the green bank and playing with the ripples of the brook dreamily gazes up through the delicate, fluttering leaves of the mimosas into the fair, blue sky. Is she thinking of her home among the Umbrian hills of far distant Italy ; are her thoughts travelling back to the golden, summer days and to the twilight evenings when the shadoAvs begin to fall from the mountain heights, or does memory fondly bring back to her the little cottage nestling among the hills where her little brothers play on the banks of the stream and send down upon its waves their boats of orange skin ? But see ! they are rested now and the women jiile up the clothes in great, white rolls in their baskets, pick up and carry home the babies who are lying on the grass trying to catch the sunbeams which steal through the leaves into their little hands. We hasten on, the music of the fountain growing fainter in our ears. Now we are at the gate of the park, and we hear the merry