of an Orchid Hunter, 



23 



town of any pretensions would be considered com- 

 plete. No sooner had the Phantom dropped anchor 

 at a safe distance from the stormy coast than we 

 were besieged as usual by an army of custom- 

 house officers — who are especially officious at this 

 place — and in their scrupulous anxiety to prevent 

 the importation of anything approaching the character 

 of contraband ammunition or infernal machines would 

 scarcely pass a superfluous tootlv brush or half-worn 

 collar-box — disputing everything in a nasal, half- 

 intelligible Spanish, which sounds to an English- 

 man's ears unpleasantly like the action of a file on 

 saw-teeth. 



Landing at La Guayra for passengers is very 

 difficult, and even dangerous, on account of a heavy 

 swell rolling- in from the sea and dashing- in broken 

 spray over the frail landing-stage, and more than 

 likely giving the traveller a sound baptism of salt 

 water. Once on shore, the first thing that presents 

 itself to the sightseer after wading through the crowds 

 of squabbling negroes is a large, coarse equestrian 

 statue of the illustrious Gusman Blanco (since thrown 

 down), the only pretension to art which La Guayra 

 can boast, unless it is the immense patches of 

 rouge and powder which bedaub the cheeks of every 

 third of the young women one meets, for certainly 

 the houses and streets were made when architecture 



