The Naturalist in Vancouver Island and British Columbia, Volume 1 (of 2) — John Shaqi
The Naturalist in Vancouver Island and British Columbia, Volume 1 (of 2)Lord, John Keast
History
The Naturalist in Vancouver Island and British Columbia, Volume 1 (of 2)
Lord, John Keast
British Columbia -- Description and travel; Natural history -- British Columbia; Vancouver Island (B.C.) -- Description and travel
The most conspicuous objects one meets with in this dismal place are
flocks of turkey-buzzards (useful inspectors or nuisances, as they
do their own work of removal), pigs, naked dirty little children in
legions, blear-eyed mangy curs that do nothing but growl and sleep;
together with peddling darkies, bummers, and loafers (I know no other
names so expressive of this species of idler as these Transatlantic
ones), that employ their time much in the same fashion as the curs.
A line of shops faces the sea, and at a little distance is the
‘mingillo,’ or native marketplace, a spot no one would be disposed to
linger in or visit a second time, unless the nose could be dispensed
with. ‘Noses have they but they smell not,’ must surely apply to the
dwellers in the marketplace; the air is _literally_ (and not in figure
of speech only) _laden_ with the mingled fragrance of past and present
victims, an odour far more potent than pleasant. Surely ladies never go
to market in Colon!
The train was by this time ready to take us to Panama, and, with a
parting scream, the iron horse rushed into the tropical wilderness. On
leaving Colon, the line winds its way through a deep cutting across
a morass, and along the right bank of the Rio Chagres; glimpses are
caught of the river from amidst the tangled and twisted foliage that
shuts it in on either side like dense walls. From out this leafy chaos
rise the gaunt trunks of the mango, cocoanut, plane, cieba, and stately
palm. Plantains, too, spread their green succulent leaves—sunshades
of nature’s own contriving—to protect the tender growths that love
to live beneath them. Every tree seemed strangling in the coils of
trailing vines and climbers; real ropes, pendents, and streamers of
brilliant blossoms, fit resting-places for the birds and butterflies,
themselves like living flowers. Wondrous orchids, grotesque in form
and colouring, grew everywhere, springing alike from the living and the
dead; for amidst this flood of vegetable life, decay and beauty, like
twin sisters, walk hand-in-hand.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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