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252 Marching with Gomez pride of the entire shop is a great escutcheon of the Cuban Republic, four feet high, carved from a solid root of the yellow " foutete," in relief. It took Sanchez, the master-carver, a skilful workman who learned his trade in the United States, three months to do it, working at odd moments. Every arm that comes to the workshop is turned over to a receiving clerk, who sits caged in a little office by the entrance. A ticket with the date and number is given in receipt, and a duplicate is attached to the weapon. Behind the receiving clerk, in a long rack, are the arms waiting to be sent for, and you are reminded of a down-town pawnbroker's shop. The only outsider who comes to Mayari is the sub-prefect of the district. He makes two trips a week, with beef killed at the base of the mountain. Arms are therefore sent to the prefectura on the plain below, with instructions for their repair, and the owner must wait till they are finished. This is a precaution for the safety of the establishment. It is always cold at Mayari, especially at night, for the wind is piercing and the mist envelops one with chilling dampness. The officers sleep in a little house on cot beds, but the men have their barracks in a great cavern, like a bandit's lair, under the overhang of the mountain. Here they swing their hammocks from iron rings cemented in the ceiling of solid rock. In the centre of the cave, in a great fireplace where the cooking is done, a caldron of boiling coffee stands night and day; for coffee grows wild on Mayari, and the members of the garrison drink it when the air is chill.
Title | Marching with Gomez |
Creator | Flint, Grover |
Publisher | Lamson, Wolffe and company |
Place of Publication | Boston, New York [etc.] |
Date | 1898 |
Language | eng |
Type | Books/Pamphlets |
Title | 00000299 |
Type | Books/Pamphlets |
Transcript | 252 Marching with Gomez pride of the entire shop is a great escutcheon of the Cuban Republic, four feet high, carved from a solid root of the yellow " foutete," in relief. It took Sanchez, the master-carver, a skilful workman who learned his trade in the United States, three months to do it, working at odd moments. Every arm that comes to the workshop is turned over to a receiving clerk, who sits caged in a little office by the entrance. A ticket with the date and number is given in receipt, and a duplicate is attached to the weapon. Behind the receiving clerk, in a long rack, are the arms waiting to be sent for, and you are reminded of a down-town pawnbroker's shop. The only outsider who comes to Mayari is the sub-prefect of the district. He makes two trips a week, with beef killed at the base of the mountain. Arms are therefore sent to the prefectura on the plain below, with instructions for their repair, and the owner must wait till they are finished. This is a precaution for the safety of the establishment. It is always cold at Mayari, especially at night, for the wind is piercing and the mist envelops one with chilling dampness. The officers sleep in a little house on cot beds, but the men have their barracks in a great cavern, like a bandit's lair, under the overhang of the mountain. Here they swing their hammocks from iron rings cemented in the ceiling of solid rock. In the centre of the cave, in a great fireplace where the cooking is done, a caldron of boiling coffee stands night and day; for coffee grows wild on Mayari, and the members of the garrison drink it when the air is chill. |
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