. A white umbrella in Mexico. autumn. Andyet here comes this vandal with a scytheand a bucket, sweeps away all this beautyin an hour, and leaves behind only itsgrinning skeleton. A man who could whitewash an oldworm fence would be guilty of any crime,— even of boiling a peach. But with the exception of the cathedral,this imp of a bucket has fastened very lit-tle of his fatal work upon Queretaro. When the sun goes down behind thetrees of the plaza the closely barred shut-ters, closed all day, are bowed open, andbetween the slats you can catch the flashof a pair of dark eyes. Later, the fairowne
. A white umbrella in Mexico. autumn. Andyet here comes this vandal with a scytheand a bucket, sweeps away all this beautyin an hour, and leaves behind only itsgrinning skeleton. A man who could whitewash an oldworm fence would be guilty of any crime,— even of boiling a peach. But with the exception of the cathedral,this imp of a bucket has fastened very lit-tle of his fatal work upon Queretaro. When the sun goes down behind thetrees of the plaza the closely barred shut-ters, closed all day, are bowed open, andbetween the slats you can catch the flashof a pair of dark eyes. Later, the fairowners come out on the balconies one byone, their dark hair so elaborately wroughtthat you know at a glance how the greaterpart of the afternoon has been the twilight steals on, the doorsof these lonely and apparently uninhab-ited houses are thrown wide open, display-ing the exquisite gardens blooming in thepatios, and through the gratings of thealways closed iron gates you get glimpses ^6 A White Umhrella in Mexico.
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookpublisherbostonhoughtonmiff
