, 1888-09-06
A SLEEPY rRoPIc CITY.
a Yankee Saw in Brazi1-Heavinr
Anchor.

NhA = dhhCo saw II lt&NluK
Anchor.
Maranham, Brazil, is one of the has
beens. All the people are dead, but they
don't know it. Grass is growing in the
streets, and the place is slowly but surely
dying. There is very little business, and
the n excitement in the month is the
arrival of the American mail steamship.
Almost every building is a church or
nunnery, and priests are everywhere.
We first make a call on his tan colored
majesty, the president, and then start
out to explore this new and strange city.
Within two years a horse car railway has
been introduced here, probably by some
enterprising Yankee. The cars are open
and similar to our summer cars in Boston,
though much smaller. They are drawn by
little bits of donkeys, whose tremendous
ears seem the biggest part of them. The
conductor stands on the end of the car
and blows a great brass horn on curves
and corners. While staring at these
curious street cars we are Joined by Capt.
c., who invites us to take a drive in
one of them. We step on board and the
little donkeys wag their ears as they
start off. AS it is an open car we retain
$3.50 NSoAo aiN OOOhi PSANN1NO llLdO Oil CN C.
are attracted by the captains uniform.
Whispers are plainly heard of Com
mandante Americana" etc. In the mean
time the car moves on up one street and
down another-all alike dreary.
Occasionally a pair of black eyes al
be seen peeping through the bars of a
window; we raise our hats and they are
quickly withdrawn-look again and there
they are. On the eat in front of us sits
a matronly lady of perhaps 40, very
richly dressed; beside her a young lady
of 20. The latter is altogether charm
ing-with rich black hair and speaking
eyes. But what is this? Quickly turning
in her seat she extends a jeweled hand
and in broken Spanish politely requests
my cigar to light her dainty cigarette.
''Great Scott!" L mutter, as L hastily
pass over the required light. She hands
1T back and, as l gaze upon it, wonder if
l had not better keep it as a memento of
Maranham,
But here we are on the top of a very
high hill overlooking the sea. This is
the end of the road and we have twenty
minutes to look about in. A large, vel
low washed convent is near by and, as
l glance up at the barred windows, 1
think how much sorrow and heartache
might be inside of them. We walk to
the brow of the hill and cast our ewes
over the bay, dotted here and there with
coasters and fishing boats. The Advance
looms up among them like a mountain
among hills. She lies broadside to and
her spars and rigging are trimmed to
perfection. Hark! There is the horn and
we must go back to our car. 1t is now
4 O'Clock and we must return to the ship,
which sails at 5 80 p. m.
The hour comes, and we listen to the
captains orders from the bridge as he
gets the Advance under way once more.
First the kedge is underrun, lifted and
brought on board. The ship is now rid
ing by port anchor, flood tide. The port
chain is paid out until the sixty fathom
shackle is at the waters edge and the
bows directly over the starboard anchor,
which is then Gated and put in place.
The port chain is then taken in to fifteen
fathoms at waters edge; she is hen I'M
moored. There goes three bells. Cliff
your anchor, Mr.. Ray" ''Anchor away,
sir" "Ahead half speed" Slowly she
moves; then faster and faster as she
gathers Roadway. 'Anchor at the
hawse pipes, SIR" "Ahead full speed"
comes the last order from the bridge. 1
turn for a last look at the harbor and
city, and what do 1 see2 As live, there
on the after deck of the Advance are the
two ladies we met on the street car,
bound through to Rio Janeiro.-G. V. G.
in Boston Transcript.