Title: Our Artist in Cuba, Peru, Spain and Algiers
Author: George Washington Carleton
Release date: June 7, 2011 [eBook #36348]
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images available at The Internet Archive)
BY
GEORGE W. CARLETON.
Price 50 Cents.
LEAVES FROM
THE SKETCH-BOOK OF A TRAVELLER.
1864-1868.
BY
GEORGE W. CARLETON.
| "Let observation, with expansive view, |
| Survey mankind, from China to Peru." |
NEW YORK:
Copyright, 1877, by
G. W. Carleton & Co., Publishers.
LONDON: S. LOW & CO.
MDCCCLXXVII.
OUR ARTIST, line drawing of a duck HIS MARK.
——
THE Author of these unpretending little wayside sketches offers them to the Public with the hesitating diffidence of an Amateur. The publication a few years ago, of a portion of the drawings was attended with so flattering a reception, that a new edition being called for, it is believed a few more Leaves from the same vagabond sketch-book may not be intrusive.
The out-of-the-way sort of places in which the Author's steps have led him, must always present the most enticing subjects for a comic pencil; and although no attempt is here made to much more than hint at the oranges and volantes of Cuba, the earthquakes and buzzards of Peru, the donkeys and beggars of Spain, or the Arabs and dates of Algiers, yet sketches made upon the spot, with the crispy freshness of a first impression, cannot fail in suggesting at least a panoramic picture of such grotesque incidents as these strange Countries furnish.
The drawings are merely the chance results of leisure moments; and Our Artist, in essaying to convey a ray of information through the glasses of humor, has simply multiplied with printers' ink his pocket-book of sketches, which, although caricatures, are exaggerations of actual events, jotted down on the impulse of the moment, for the same sort of idle pastime as may possibly lead the reader to linger along its ephemeral pages.
NEW YORK, Christmas, 1877.
———
| Sick Transit. | The Spanish Tongue. |
| Two Boobies. | An Unwelcome Visitor. |
| A Colored Hercules. | An Agreeable Bath. |
| The Cuban Jehu. | A Celestial Maid. |
| Iglesia San Francisco. | A Statue on a Bust. |
| A Cuban Motive. | A Tail Unfolded. |
| An Influenza. | Money in thy Purse. |
| Flee for Shelter. | Sugar and Water. |
| The Ride. | Green Fields. |
| A Cock-fight. | A Segar well-lighted. |
| Rather Cool. | Shall Rest be Found. |
| Take your Pick. | All Aboard. |
| A Spanish Retreat. | The Matanzas Cave. |
| Spiders and Rats. | Hard Road to Travel. |
| Belligerents. | A Shady Retreat. |
| Materfamilias. | A Spanish Grocer. |
| Culinary Department. | Colored Help. |
| A Bundle of Clothes. | Very Moorish. |
| A Button-Smasher. | Chacun a Son Gout. |
| White Pantaloons. | Nature's Restorer. |
| Carnival Acquaintance. | Agricultural. |
| Beauty at the Ball. | A Cot in the Valley. |
| A Disappointment. | A Colored Beauty. |
| Dolce far Niente. | Corner Stones. |
| Locomotion. | A Sudden Departure. |
First day out.—The wind freshens up a trifle as we get outside Sandy Hook; but our artist says he is'nt sea-sick, for he never felt better in his life.
A "Booby"—as seen from the ship's deck.
A "Booby"—as seen on the ship's deck.
A side elevation of the colored gentleman who carried our luggage from the small boat to the Custom House.
The first volante driver that our artist saw in Havana.
The old Convent and Bell Tower of the Church of San Francisco,—now used as a Custom House.
A Cuban Cart and its Motive Power.—Ye patient Donkey.
Manners and Customs of a Cuban with a Cold in his Head.
| PART I.—The beast in a torpid condition. PART II.—When he "smells the blood of an Englishmun." |
Manner and Custom of Harnessing ye Animiles to ye Cuban Volante.
I.—Chanticleer as he goes in.
II.—Chanticleer considerably "played out."
The cool and airy style in which they dress the rising colored generation of Havana.
Two ways of carrying it—behind the ear, and in the back-hair.
View of the Canal and Cocoa Tree; looking East from the Grotto.
Agitation of the Better-Half of Our Artist, upon entering her chamber and making their acquaintance.
A slight difference arises between the housekeeper's cat and the butcher's dog, who has just come out in his summer costume.
The Free Negro.—An every-day scene, when the weather is fine.
Kitchen, chief-cook and bottle-washer in the establishment of Mrs. Franke, out on the "Cerro."
A portrait of the young lady, whose family (after considerable urging) consents to take in our washing.
Washing in Havana.—$4 00 a dozen in gold.
I.—My pantaloons as they went in. II.—My pantaloons as they came out.
A Masquerade at the Tacon Theatre.—Types of Costume, with a glimpse of the "Cuban Dance" in the background.
Our artist mixes in the giddy dance, and falls desperately in love with this sweet creature—but
When the "sweet creature" unmasks, our Artist suddenly recovers from his fit of admiration. Alas! beauty is but mask deep.
The Cuban Wheelbarrow—In Repose.
The Cuban Wheelbarrow—In action.
Our Artist forms the praiseworthy determination of studying the Spanish language, and devotes three hours to the enterprise.
The Scorpion of Havana,—encountered in his native jungle.
Our Artist having prepared himself for a jolly plunge, inadvertently observes an insect peculiar to the water, and rather thinks he won't go in just now.
A cheerful Chinese Chambermaid (?) at the Fonda de Ingleterra, outside the walls.
A gay (but slightly mutilated) old plaster-of-Paris girl, that I found in one of the avenues of the Bishop's Garden, on the "Cerro."
A Cuban Planter going into town with his plunder.
| Our Artist just steps around the corner, to look at a "sweet thing in fans" that his wife has found. |
RESULT! |
Our Artist indulges in a panale frio (a sort of lime-ade), at the Café Dominica, and gets so "set up," that he vows he won't go home till morning.
Our Artist, on an entomological expedition in the Bishop's Garden, is disagreeably surprised to find such sprightly specimens.
An English acquaintance of Our Artist wants a light for his paper segar; whereupon the waiter, according to custom, brings a live coal.
A midsummer's night dream.—Our Artist is just the least bit disturbed in his rest, and gently remonstrates.