The Pensacola journal. (Pensacola, Fla.) 1898-1985, 1907-03-13

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! eriy Chicago, Ill.
nance in the tropics? ! could buy
the same cocoanut In New York for 10
cents.
| I left the festival hall and engaged
an Indian canoe to cross the Chagres
river. Here l met an Indian brave
waiting to cross over to the dance
hall. He had patent leather shoes, OK
ford ties, red silk hose, white pants
creased going and coming, low-cut
vest, spiked-tail coat, a boiled shirt,
a high collar and a silk hat of the
vintage of 1776. He also wore lemon
colored gloves. His hair was beauti-
fully plated IN many plaits. 1t hung
down on his back Ike Madusa's "ser-
pent." His face had streaks of red
paint on it, one on each cheek bone.
and on the top of the nose. Solomon
in all his glory never was 'arrayed
like unto" him.
The Washerwomen of Panama.
The isthmus Of Panama is the
washerwoman's paradise. They use
the waters of the Chagres river.
wading out into the stream and beat
ing life out of the clothes on the rocks.
They do not use any washing COM
pounds, with the exception of starch,
and oh! what a lot of starch. Neither
law nor gospel will preevnt a Pana-
manian laundress from starching night
clothes and sheets as stiff as porcelain
platters, and only experience in the
tropics enables one to sleep through
the cracking sounds attendant to any
rash movements in bed.
In Bamboo Huts.
The washerwomen live in bamboo
huts, clothing for the children is not
considered necessary. The family can
not freeze, as the climate is one of
perpetual summer. They have their
own amusementS, dancing being a pas
sion with them, and they get their
music from species of drum akin to
the African tom-tom If a husband
and wife cannot agree they separate
without quarreling, he takes one-half
If there is but one child do not know
how they arrange the division, but
judging from the groups of naked
brown babies see in every direction
there must be usually more than one
The crash of the breakers, the lash of
gale, u
The thrash of the rain and the suns
awful heat
May pass from US all, but wen ever
recall
The naked brown babies of Boliyer
street.
The pleasures and pains of the present
and past,
Our sojourn here making so sad OF SO
sweet,
Though all fade away through the
memory will stay
The naked brown bales of Boliver
street
They wade in the puddles, they roll in
the dust;
No weather can ever their pleasures
defeat;
All days are the same, life is only n
game
To the naked brown babies of Boliver
street
The washerwoman never irons, and
the ironer never washes. The prices
charged are by the piece / have to
pay 80 cents for linen shirts, 6 cents
for handkerchiefs, socks are not count
ed by the pair. but By the piece.
1 saw large steamer In the harbor
this morning. The passengers were
made up of a few hundred wealthy
citizens from the Northern States
They will cross the American CONT
nent and return in five hours. They
Will learn no more of the real life in
this isthmus than the Yankees do
when riding through the South on a
last limited train Those wealthy
Americans who arrived this Sunday
morning are not evidently church.
goers, as they took three large whisky
boxes along with them on the train.
| am arranging the notes of this let
ter on the stump of a bamboo tree To-
Gated on the highest point of Ancon
mountain, where Balboa stood when
ne flrst discovered the mighty Pacific
TO the west I see Tiger Hill. the
haunts of many fierce tigers, and TO
the north Monkey Hill, which will
describe in my next letter.
LISTEN
and remember the next time you
Sun6 rom pain-causaf hy damn