There was hardly
a blade of grass or tree to be seen anywhere, except where the thriving
European and American residents had perched themselves on one of the
acclivities. The dwarfed trees here, moreover, all in a row before the
little painted bird-cage-looking houses, appeared to have no more life of
growth and color in them than so many painted semblances in a toy village.
Familiar looking shanties, of the tumble-down sort, built of pine wood and
shingles, crowded the ground by the water side, and indeed the low land
seemed better suited to their staggering aspect than the steep
acclivities. Painted signs with English names and English words, stared
familiarly from every building. The universal "John Smith" there
conspicuously posted his name and his "Bakery." Mine host of the "Hole in
the Wall" invited the thirsty in good round Saxon to drink of his "Best
Beer on Tap," or his "Bottled Porter," as "you pays your money and take
your choice."
The steamer was enlivened from the earliest hour by the native fishermen,
who, with their fleet of canoes, had sought the shades of our dark hull,
to protect them from the hot sun, which seemed to be fairly simmering the
waters of the bay.
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