St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1903-05-13

! OF every nue. and nationality, OF curious
courtyards with massively carved doors,
of tropical fruits, of lofty. waving palms,
and imagine an island rising out OF the
sea thus equipped; of the bright sunlight
shining out behind mist and shadows,
upon walls. painted or whitewashed in
every hue, deep red, bright yellow, soft
canary color, rich orange, dreamy pink,
hazy grey, intense blue, deep chocolate
all rising up on the crest OF the island
two or three stories high, and all full to
overlooking with human beings.
Just now, as we are on deck, in the
steaming heat, after several severe tropi-
cal showers, through the mist and CLAM
our OF which the island CLEANS forth, L
can imagine no scene more enchanting
more like books and stories and pictures
which, alas until now have never seemed
true, but which today know are more
than realized in this unique spot. To
the left is the grim, grey tort whose bas'
lions rise IS feet from the sea, and whose
massive walls were laid by gallant old
Portuguese navigators in the days OF
Portugal's glory and spIendor. In 1903
was this fort begun, if our annals are
true, and that grey, strong seagirt wall
was finished three years later. You,
who have your histories beside y GU, look
and see who were rulers then, over
Europe, over Asia-who were the great
and the mighty and remember that Por-
tugal, then, built this fort, trusting that
her galleons would rule the waves; that
the wealth of the Indies would be laid at
her feet; that the spices OF Colombo and
the silks of Cathay would enrich her
stores and her warehouses, and that
from this rare and picture sque island Of
Mozambique her slave markets and her
ivory would yield her untold gold.
We arrived last night, and though the
rain was falling and the light was wan
ing, vet we quickly donned waterproofs
and stout shoes, and hailing one of the
screaming shouting, deatening noisy
boatmen we ran down the gangway and
were seized by wet and grubby black
arms and rushed into one of the bobbing
boats. The scene was very amusing.
Twenty boats or more, all striving for
passengers, each with half dozen boat
men, and all shouting in the widest
tones. at last we pushed oft and soon
landed, walked up the slippery steps and
over well constructed bridge with
curved seats cut in the stone sides at
short intervals. Mozambiquers are ever
ready for rest. We entered the Public
Gardens where solid band stand and
kiosk occupy the center and chairs and
seats are literally provided. Before us
was an ancient church and the Sultan's
palace, but his Highness was absent, so
we had not the pleasure of beholding
His High Mightiness. The foundations
of this palace are said to have been laid
in 1860, and the church dates back to
the days when the Irquisition held
power in Portugal. We entered, but by
the dim light could see only weird shad-
ows, so we went through the narrow
streets of the town. In the squares and
gardens lew very solid and old fash.
Toned lamps, with huge rectangular
glass sides, such as may be seen in old
Portuguese or Spanish cities, partially
lit up the scene. From upper rooms
was waited down odors of the evening
meal - curry, onions, cocoanuts, fried
meat, and everywhere pervading smell
OF smoky parafine lamps prevailed. The
streets were silent save for an occa
sional policeman, and a messenger boy
or two, and we made little noise our
selves as we trod the wet, sandy streets.
Beyond the main part of the town were
numerous one STORED dwellings made of
rough coral and with quaint red tiled
roots. We passed two large, fine hospi-
tails, but the hour was not a suitable
one to pay them visit, though we
would like to have entered. Several beer
shops were open. AS only Portuguese
and Arabic were spoken it was some
time before we were directed to place
where we could get post cards and
stamps. We were constantly accompan-
led by three comical little black boys,
whose sole knowledge of English was
"All right" and as they were professed
guides we rather despaired of getting
much information. In my next | will
describe our nocturnal visit to the tort.
MARY T GRAY.
Mozambique, March 20, 1903.