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EXPERIENCES IN COLOMBIA 



We had been shouldered and buffeted for several days by the 

 restless Caribbean, scorched by the sun and wilted by the heat, and we 

 were glad of the prospect of getting ashore. We therefore entered in 

 spirit into the feelings of our captain, who was racing with a French 

 steamer for a good mooring, and whose Teutonic oaths we piously 

 echoed without knowing exactly what they meant. Whether this helped 

 in the race is a question, but at all events we got the berth, and as we 

 were making fast the captain joined our group. His good nature was 

 restored, and as we stood under the awning, not much bigger than a 

 pocket handkerchief, sheltered from a shower, he called attention to a 

 man standing on the pier who was General Somebody, and a personage 

 of great importance. 



HOMES OF THE POOR. 



"You mean the chap in the mackintosh ?" asked an English ship- 

 mate. 



"No, the man in the rubber 'goat/ " growled the captain. 



Both of them stood pat, and the argument lasted long after we 

 left them and stepped upon the pier, which was crowded with freight 

 cars, natives, sailors, and the nondescript Anglo-Saxons that become 

 residents of such places and never get either money or energy enough 

 to get away. Did I say that it was Sunday when we landed? Well, 

 by the calendar it certainly was the holy Sabbath, but so far as we 

 could see, no one observed it but ourselves, which we did by rigidly 

 abstaining from work, and preparing to journey up to Barranquilla early 

 Monday morning. This town, which is some nineteen miles away, is 

 connected with the port by a jerkwater railroad that has great difficulty 

 in negotiating two trips in twenty-four hours. We therefore made all 



