PUERTO LIMON $ 



for a moment before flying off again. We had already seen 

 them from a distance while lying off Greytown and while 

 waiting to dock at LImon, large, low-flying birds whose heads 

 and bodies formed a single horizontal line as they moved 

 over the water. 



The great majority of the inhabitants of Limon were Eng- 

 lish-speaking negroes many of whom came from Jamaica. 

 Their huts and shanties were much in evidence, chiefly be- 

 tween the tracks and the beach. Some of them bore names 

 as "Rest Cottage," "Seaman's Providence"; the sign of the 

 "Jamaican Hotel" kept by Nicolo Bartoli, on the main 

 street, announced "Beds with matrimony ^2". A small 

 river, which the railroad crossed by an iron bridge, empties 

 into the sea just at the southern end of Limon, and a sign 

 by the side of the stream read "Sharks. Dangerous. 

 Bathing Prohibited." A very wet spot where the river 

 joined the sea was occupied by scores of zopilotes, some of 

 them getting a few pickings from a fish-net spread out to 

 dry. Beyond the bridge the railroad ran among cocoanut 

 palms but was fenced in on each side with barbed wire. 

 Striped lizards (Cnemidophorus or the like) ran over the ties 

 and here and there leaf-cutting ants carried their burdens. 



We called on Dr. Emilio Echeverria, who was in charge of 

 the hospital located on a little exposed point at the north end 

 of the town. It was the joint property of the United Fruit 

 Company and the Costa Rican Government, had a capacity 

 of 117 beds, and was opened in 1905. It was perfectly 

 screened and Dr. Echeverria told us there had been no yellow 

 fever in Limon for three years. He himself had lived here 

 five years and although he did not consider himself immune 

 had never had a chill or any symptom of malarial fever. 

 But as he said, he took no risks and never sat out of doors in 

 the evening. Some of the upper balconies of the hospital 

 commanded fine views of Limon and the mountain barrier 



