California illustrated

by J. M. Letts

The females here are celebrated for their beauty, finely developed forms, and graceful bearing, as well as for their vivacity and winning pathos in conversation. They possess many peerless traits of character, and manifest a devoted attachment to their parents and offspring. The full dress of a lady consists of a white chemise, a colored skirt flounced at the bottom, and a scarf which serves alternately as a shawl and bonnet.

The market is well supplied with every variety of fruit and cakes, and beef by the yard. The stands are mostly attended by females. The first salutation upon entering the market-place is from the little girls, who hail you with, “Say, Americano! lemonade, picayune?” holding up to you a plate containing a glass of lemonade, as will be seen by the accompanying Plate. At the left, in the foreground, is seen a Señora making love to an hombre who looks from underneath his huge sombrero, and seems to hold the tighter, his lemon basket and jug. Then there is little Niña with her picayune-lemonade, and Muchacho with his hat on his head, inverted, and filled with lemons. He was requested to stand for this drawing, and looked the very personation of a corn-field effigy. Then there is Señora, the second, standing demurely, supporting on her head, a basket of shells. Then comes one of the “immortal garrison;” he supports a high plume and long cigar. There is something extremely martial in his attitude, although he appears lame in one foot. Just behind this soldier, is a group of three; the man is a Californian; he was brought ashore by the boy, but does not seem anxious to pay his fare. The boy has his hand full of stones, by which he designs to convince the man that he had better pay. During the parley, a female runs out, and recognizing the man as having got his dinner of her without paying for it, she says, “Ah! you thought I wouldn’t know you, but I do know you.” This was coming too thick for the man, and, giving a kind of “b’hoy” bend of the knee, he runs both hands into his pockets, with a “well, I guess if I owe you anything, I can p-a-y.” The range of buildings at the right are eating and drinking saloons. An officer is seen galloping across the plaza, with a sentinel at the left. Back of the town, an opening is cut through the mountain, presenting a very striking appearance, and is said to have been done by the Spaniards to give the town a circulation of air. Acapulco contains 3,000 inhabitants, many of whom are the native Indian race. It is somewhat subject to earthquakes, there being at present several ruins of buildings, including one church, that were prostrated a few years since.

In passing down from Acapulco to Realejo, there is a continuation of the same magnificent scenery, and as you near the harbor, you see towering up from the Cordilleras, Viejo, the most elevated volcano in Central America. (See Plate.) It is seen rearing its head above the clouds, and belching forth a column of smoke. This volcano, for many years, ceased to burn; but a few years since, the whole of the surrounding country became agitated; the air was filled for several days, with smoke so dense and black, that it entirely obscured the sun, rendering it dark as night. The inhabitants were appalled with terror, some fled the country, others collected their families and shut themselves up

in their houses, or assembled en masse in the churches; beasts were seen near the habitations crouching with fear, and wild fowls were heard shrieking through the air. On the night of the third day, the country underwent another frightful convulsion, followed by a terrific explosion, when this volcano vomited forth a deluge of liquid fire, which swept down its sides, carrying devastation in its track. At this eruption, so great was the quantity of lava thrown out that part of the summit, near the crater, was carried away, as will be seen by the accompanying plate.

Realejo has a fine harbor, being situated on an arm of the ocean. As you pass in, passing an island at the entrance, you find yourself in a bay of sufficient capacity to accommodate the navies of the world. Our steamer passed up three miles to a dock which was being constructed by Howard and Son, and to which we made fast. This is one of the coal depots for the line, and preparations were making to construct suitable buildings. After landing our baggage, we engaged “bungoes” to convey us to Realejo, three miles distant, and as we passed along up, we found the margin of the bay low and swampy, and, in some places, as will be seen at the right, above the dock, forests of mango-trees growing up from the water. Several rivers put in at the head of the bay, their banks low and swampy, presenting a very unhealthy appearance.

Realejo is a town of 400 inhabitants. The houses are one story, built of adobes, and covered with tile. There are several churches in ruins, and one much dilapidated, but still used; the natives are the most squalid I saw in Central America, and everything is done on that behind-the-age principle that characterizes Spanish America.

At the left, in the accompanying Plate, will be seen a cart, drawn by two yoke of oxen, and lashed to their horns are sticks, four feet in length, which fall against their foreheads, and by which they draw. The cart-wheels are made by sawing two cuts from a log, and boring holes through at the heart; a pole is run through, with a linch-pin hole in each end. A rude frame of reed or cane is put on to keep the wheels from running together, and as this is covered with raw hides, it serves as a protection to the passengers in case of rain. When all are ready, the driver mounts the tongue, with a long pole, prepared to “stir up the animals;” he gives the inimitable whoop, and they are under way. When he wants them to bear to the left, he applies the end of the pole to the right-hand leader, shoves him out, and they come to, and vice versa. On the road there is always in attendance a little boy, whose duty it is to “grease the wheels.” He is supplied with a quantity of green bark, and when the wheels creak he applies a piece; it winds around the axle, and seems to ease the pain. This, to a person accustomed to an easy carriage, would seem an uncomfortable mode of performing a journey; yet, dear reader, in this same cart, at this particular time, there is a gentleman and lady, well-known in New York circles, on their way to Nicaragua, en route to the United States. They are seated on their trunks, in a recumbent attitude, with heads uncovered, each drop of the wheel seeming to give rise to new phrenological developments.

There is a spacious hotel now being built here, and there is a prospect that the town will become Americanized. We were obliged to take lodgings at a private house. We lived on chickens, eggs, and carna, or beef dried in strings, and sold by the yard. At night we slung ourselves up in hammocks, at the mercy of the mosquitos. After a detention of two days, we succeeded in hiring passage, in carts, for Chinandega. Our driver was anxious to start at an early hour, and hitched his oxen to the cart at 2 P.M. We seated ourselves on trunks, inside, and were soon under way.