Panama and the canal in picture and prose .. . from the main road towardthe sea and the square broken tower of the oldcathedral, or Church of St. Augustine, with theferns springing from the jagged top, and vinestwisting out through the dumbly staring windows,real estate and booms seem singularly ignobletopics in the presence of this mute spectator of theagonies of a martyred people. For even the dullingmists of the in-terposing centu-ries, even ourfeeling that theSpaniards suf-fered only the an-guish and the tor-ments which theyhad themselvesmeted out to thereal owners of thelands they hadseiz
Panama and the canal in picture and prose .. . from the main road towardthe sea and the square broken tower of the oldcathedral, or Church of St. Augustine, with theferns springing from the jagged top, and vinestwisting out through the dumbly staring windows,real estate and booms seem singularly ignobletopics in the presence of this mute spectator of theagonies of a martyred people. For even the dullingmists of the in-terposing centu-ries, even ourfeeling that theSpaniards suf-fered only the an-guish and the tor-ments which theyhad themselvesmeted out to thereal owners of thelands they hadseized upon, can-not wholly bluntthe sense of pityfor the womenand children, forthe husbands andfathers in the citywhich fell underMorgans would be noeasy task togather in theworst purlieus ofany Americancity today a bandso wholly lost toshame, to pityand to God as therufhans who fol-lowed they did tothe people onwhom their handsreeking withblood were laid bluff near must be left to Photographing this scene is now prohibited. the imagination. The only contemporary recordof the sack was written by one of their own numberto whom apparently such scenes had become com-monplace, for while his gorge rises at the contempla-tion of his own hard fortune in being robbed anddeserted by his chief, he recounts the torture of menand the violation of women in a matter-of-fact wayas though all in the days work. Driving on we come to the arched bridge whichformed the main entrance to the town in the day of its downfall. Sturdyit is still, thoughthe public roadno longer passesover it, defyingthe assaults oftime and themore disintegrat-ing inroads of thetropical plantswhich insinuatethemselves intoevery crevice,prying the stoneapart with tenderfingers ever har-dening. At oncethe bridge, nonetoo wide for threeto cross abreast,awakens wonderthat no Horatiuswas in all theSpanish armies tokeep the bridgeas did he of an-cient Rome. Butafter all the rivu-let which todaymakes its slugg
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Keywords: ., bookauthorabbotwil, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookyear1913
