William Eleroy Curtis

William Eleroy Curtis

Summary

Portrait of William Eleroy Curtis William Eleroy Curtis The Capitals of Spanish America

The sun always rises and sets very suddenly in the tropics. There is no “rosy blush of morn to herald the coming of a newborn day,” and so on, nor is there a gorgeous glow in the west when the twilight comes; but old Sol gets up in the morning and goes to bed at night without any ceremony, and with a startling suddenness. You awaken at the noise of carts in the street, find it dark as midnight, with the stars more brilliant than you ever saw them at home, turn over, doze a little, and in a few moments jump up, supposing it to be noonday.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of William Eleroy Curtis William Eleroy Curtis The Capitals of Spanish America

Here are the shops of the principal merchants, and the gorgeous stores of the artificers of feather flowers, and the dealers in gold and silver and precious stones. The street, from one end to the other, is filled at night with people, not on the narrow sidewalks only, but completely filling the thoroughfare from wall to wall. Officers of the army and navy, and soldiers and sailors, all in uniform, mingle with the crowd, and flash their gold lace in the bright light that floods the street. Everywhere, too, are the elaborate mulatto gendarmes, the police of the city.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of William Eleroy Curtis William Eleroy Curtis The Capitals of Spanish America

The Chillano is not only vain but cruel—as cruel as death. He carries a long curved knife, called a curvo, as the Italian carries a stiletto and the negro a razor, and uses it to cut throats. He never fights with his fists, and knows not the use of the shillalah; he never carries a revolver, and is nothing of a thug; but as a robber or bandit, in a private quarrel or a public mob, he always uses this deadly knife, and springs at the throat of his enemy like a blood-hound.
Source: Gutenberg

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