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'OUj/\iiiiiur-v'
A STORY
Jiff on tl)f |stj)mii$.
BY JOSEPH W. FA BENS.
* AVliLilir-r ^^r iKV m ilie care or the fi!..--!.
Ouraleeji MI soft on the hnrdfst bc-d:
\Vh«-lher w.- coiKhcd in our roin;li cupof".
On Ilie rougiirr plank of our (,'litling btiat.
Or filrotch'-d on the beach, or our Kad(ll«:s spread
A* a pillow bencalh the resliiic lirai!,
Frevh wc woHc upon tliv morrt^w.
We Were of all loncues and rn-wln ;
tJoinr *(Tc thohc who rounfed i.eadi*,
Kome of nineque, and some of churcii.
And some, or I miB'say, of neither ;
Wt through ih« wide world might yc uparrh.
Kor find a moilier crew, nor blitlicr."
Si'gt of Cortntk,
NEW YORK :
GEORGE P. PUTNAM & Co., 10 PARK PLACE.
M D C C C L I 1 1 .
6 5037
Enterkd, nccordiiig to Act of Congress, iu the year 1852, by
O , r . PUTNAM & Co.,
in the Clcik'a OiTicG of llie District Conn fur tlio SoullitTii District oi
New Yorli.
R..CH A toft K»b,'Ptiater*anU &trt-cotyper,
6a Veiei/ Street.
5^^
Slmo0 11 CarniiiiE, fei)., /
AMKKICAN lUN>r!, AT I'AXA.MA,
For his galiaut conduct at the Battle of Bukna Vista, and the
efficient services rendered his Country and tho cause of
hunaanity in assisting to maintain the Laws at Panama
■when an infuriated mob threatened to disturb
the jjublic peace and safety, and destroy
tlic friendly relations existing between
our Government and the Republic
of New Grenada,
NOT LESS THAN
AS A TOKEN' OF BROrilEHLY AFFIX'TION AND REGARD,
Is icltsp tttfulls Jnatribjh.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
Life in Dishabille,
Yale ftiul Parkins, -
A Life Sa\fd, - . -
Monsieur Cra[iol'.'t,
Preparations for a Start,
En Route,
A Tramp in the Woods, -
After Dinner, -
The Bottle Manuscript, -
Tlje Padre, -
Developments,
CHAPTER U.
CHAFPER II r.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAITER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER Vin.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
Page
15
2V
4u
51
lOf.
lis
VI coy TENTS.
Pagt
CHAPTKR XII.
Ohagres River, - - 125
CHAPTER XIII.
Dos Hermanas, - - - - - ■• - - - 133
CHAPTKR XIV.
A Xight on the Rivor, - . - - - - - 141
CHAPTER XV.
AVl:;it a <lay may l>ring forth, ------- 154
CHAPTER XVI.
Ati Official Disclosure, 173
CHAPTER XVII.
S'-t'ne at Palcnquilla, 184
CHAPTER XVIII.
Oorgona, - - - - -199
PREFACE.
" By seizing the Isthmus of Darien," said Sir Walter Raleigh,
"you will wrest the keys of the world from Spain." The aspira-
tion of the days of Elizabeth has become the fact of our own. :
Decrcpid old Spain did indeed long since loosen its palsied grasp
of this land of wealth and promise ; but it was not until Anglo-
Saxon enterprise strode over it, that the world saw upon its
front the nascent lineaments of a great empire. The wonderful
change which has been and is yet to be wrought upon the surface
and in the character of the people of this country, will one day
form a very interesting chapter in the history of adventurous
enterprise. For the present, anything which tends to shed light,
however faint, upon a point to which so many eyes are turned in
hope and admiration, the writer conceives will not be without its
value.
It is not, nevertheless, pretended that the following pages are
fraught with any special brilliancy — a modest disclaimer which
the reader will perchance think wholly uncalled for under the
circumstances — made up of disjointed sketches, drawn roughly
enough with sucji materials as were at hand during rude voyaging,
aiming not at any depth of coloring or sentiment, the book will
doubtless remind some of those canvas daubings, termed Pano-
ramas, wherein much is seen for a small amount ; but which, it is
to be hoped, if lacking in those grand touches which only a master
can produce, do yet serve in their way to convey to the hurried
gazer a sort of floating idea of the beauty or richness of the real
scene.
And, furthermore, so trivial are the incidents, so superficial the
view of character and life herein displayed — necessarily so where
people live only as it were en passaii/, where the depth and
earnestness of home-life is entirely wanting — that a much readier
pen might well falter in its attempt to give any interest to scenes
80 barren of material. A land, too,
" Where ihe rose iinver blooms "n foir woman's wan cheek ;"
viii PREFACE.
about which cluster in the minds of luanj' the most melancholy
associations : which travellers approach with dread, and look back
upon with trembling ; has ratlior too strong " a scent of mortality"
about it to awaken any great warmth of enthusiasm or poetic
fervor in its description —
" For dangers uncounted are clustering there,
The pestilence stalks uncontrolled ;
Strange poisons are borne on the soft languid air.
And lurk in each leafs fragrant fold."
But the scenes portrayed in the ensuing pages (and this is the
only point upon which the author relies in palliation of his
offence) belong now mostly to the past. A new leaf in the
character of this portion of the popular route to California has
been opened : where but recently the slow boat toiled up against
the' swift current of the river, or the languid mule dragged his
weary feet over the rough mountain passes, the iron horse snorts
defiantly as he rushes on his imdeviating course. Yet a few
short years and what is herein written will perchance be read
merely as a pleasant fiction. Perchance, too (and should this ever
prove to be the case, the writer feels that it will not have been
wholly in vain
" He wore his sruidal-shoon and scallop-shell"),
on some far future rainy day, some child of a coming generation,
navigating wearily through his fathers lumber-garret in quest of
strange adventures, shall stnuible upon a copy of this work whicli
the unappreciative trunk-makers have passed by, and wliile poring
over its pages shall believe with childish credulity that all which
he finds therein recorded really happened ; and then reviewing in
his little mind the many blessings which took their rise in golden
Califoniin, and like a generous river made the countries fertile
through which they rolled, shall feel a glow of admiration and
gratitude towards those brave pioneers who, amid so much hard-
ship and self-denial, founded the great Empire of the West.
It may be proper to add here, as nn explanatory note, that the
succeeding pages, though not necessarily connected with or
hinging upon any preceding ones, were nevertheless originally
composed as a kind of sequel to a work entitled "The Camkt.
Hunt."
Salem (Mass.), Dec. I, 1852.
l^ife on t|c |st|nnts.
CHAPTER I.
LIFE IN DISHABILLE.
¥E saw Chagres under peculiar circumstances. At the
time of our arrival there the California fever had reached
its extreme height, but was still raging with unabated fury.
Every day some steamer or sailing craft from our Atlantic
cities, and occasionally one of the latter class from some French
or English port, would enter and disgorge its mass of eager life
upon the sandy point, and hurry back again for a fresh
cargo. I doubt if ever slave ships, in the palmiest days of
that hellish traflBc, were crowded to the extent of some
of the Chagres packets during this period of the C;difornia
immigration.
It was a strange and exciting scene to look upon. Fre-
quently after coffee in the morning I used to stroll down to
the point, and watching my chance for a seat upon the
piazza of the Empire City Hotel, would light my cigar, and
gaze for hours unsated upon that wonderful kaleidoscope of
human life. No romance that I ever read possessed for me
1*
10 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
half the interest of that ever-changing scene. In the forms
ijefore and around nie, all nations, ages, and conditions of
life were represented, and in such grotesque, and, for the most
part, uncouth costumes ! Seeing them thus luuklled toge-
ther, the rude and the gentle, the young and ruddy, and
jnany another decrcpid with age, the man of robust health
and the tottering invalid, " the tender and delicate woman"
and the boisterous ruffian of the lowest class, the virtuous
and the vicious, of all grades and conditions, meeting for
once in life upon a common ground, about to take from
thence a common departure with the same physical end in
view — alike in that one thing, but so ditteront in all else —
seeing all this, I felt sometimes a chilly questioning at heart
as to whither this state of things was tending. There
seemed to be a general breaking up of the accustomed forms
of life, a disappearance of old land-marks ; and I found my-
self inwardly asking, if in this lack of the sanctities of home,
the quiet intercourse of friends, and all that is tranquillizing
and ennobling in literature, science, and art, thei'e was no
danger that somehow in this rude and unavoidable inter-
mingling of the purest and vilest, characters might become
confounded, and the soul, wanting its accustomed food, lose
something of its better nature, and allow " climbing impurity
to stain the empyrean." The depressing state of the atmo-
sphere, and the great avalanches of clouds that every now
and then came rolling down the hill sides, hiding the green
slopes, and deluging everything to the core, doubtless con-
tributed to this mood of mind. ]3ut such grave questions
seldom troubled me long — how could they — in Chagres ?
There was also a comic side to the picture. The unac-
countable style in which all were permitted to dress totally
prevented a recognition of a person's grade, and gave rise to
some misunderstandings ; a retired judge might be accosted
LIFE IN DISHABILLE. 11
as a boatman, aud au ex-Governor from the States was
equally subjected to be taken for a porter. People seemed
in some cases as much sui'prised at finding themselves there
as at anything else ; and cast doubtful glances at the steam-
ships outside, wallowing and rolling in the swell, hardly will-
ing to acknowledge to themselves, that they were the same
craft that looked so gallant and' inviting at their piers in
New York. ' Occasionally there were some droll rencontres,
when one would see the countenance of a friend emerge from
beneath a coarse black and white Chagres sombrero, or
above the glowing folds of a red baize shirt. " Hilloa," was
the general salutation, " you here ?" whfch was ordinarily
answered by a similar interrogatory more emphatically
uttered, " you here ?" What else indeed could be said under
the circumstances ? Mild looking men, inoffensive quiet
people by nature, were straying upon the beach in the
character of brigands, with a belt or sash about their waist, ■
stuck full of pistols and bowie knives, on the qui vive
for those attacks which had been predicted by their quondam
neighbors ; and exemplary young and middle-aged men, hmv
rying to and fro on all sides, showed plainly by their
gait and gestures that they had " con-ected the water of
Chagres river" much too freely. Here would be a party of
four or five, all talking to the same " native" in as many
tongues, and the said native, nowise abashed at not being the
proficient in languages which he was taken for, putting all
five otF quietly with his invariable " poco tiempo ;" and there
would be a foreign set, French doubtless, seated in the stern
sheets of their " dug-out," just leaving to go up river, cosily
eating sardines and tossing off their bumpers of claret to
the inspiring notes of a polka, which one of the party was
performing on a brass hoin. There are always some torpid-
livered people in every crowd, as a kind of ballast to the
12 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
spirits of the whole. On this particular occasion one of
these fellows observed, that " the music would be pretty well
out of that mounseer before he got to Gatoun," which ano-
ther followed up by saying that " he reckoned that chap's
horn could be bought cheap next morning;" whereupon
a very bad-looking man clinched the whole matter by
observing with an oath that " that fellow would dance over
his grandmother's grave."
It was a great place for the study of character. On step-
■7 ping ashore at Chagres men instinctively shook off the crust
of conventionality, and came out in projrrid persona. I have
heard that a ship brings out a man's true character, and the
.same is also affirmed of a prison. I think, however, that in
our time the palm must be ceded to Chagres. There was in
"Tthis place such au exquisite refinement of bad lodgings and
worse fare, such an affluence of buggy cots, and such a
poverty of wholesome bed-clothing, such filth on the levee
and the beach, and such a sickening stench in the air — oh,
but it was a tine place to bring out the salient points of a
man's character ! To be jolly under such circumstances, one
would think would require more than the philosophy of even
Mark Tapley. And yet there were jolly folks at Chagres —
aye, even among the residents ; men who did not live, but
clung as it were desperately to the very tail-end of existence ;
there were some cheerful, if not happy, standing by their post
as nobly as any warrior of old, or any Casablanca in the
annals of song.
And these same gold-seekere, in their outre guise, with all
their absurd misconceptions, their petty fault-findings, and
their fretful impatience, had about them, on the whole, an air
of troubled grandeur that was really heart-touching. "What-
ever might have been their respective aims, hopes, or pros-
pects, they were all wanderers on the earth. They all had
LIFE IN DISHABILLE. 13
the seal of inquietude set upon their faces, of which the
querulous Childe says,
" This makes the madmen, who have made men mad
By their contagion."
Whatever might have been their respective troubles or
diseases, they were all drinking the same bitter cup of medi-
cine. Some were there to gratify a morbid restlessness of
body, some urged on by a hungering of the soul for change
amid excitement which
" But once kindled, quenchless evermore,
Preys upon high adventure, nor can tire
Of auglit but rest, a fever at the core
Fatal to him who bears, to all who ever bore."
Others had left home blind to the rosy smiles of children,
and steeled against the passionate sobs of loving wives,
resolved to be back, if there was any faith to be put in man's
best endeavors; any just God in the high heavens' to drive
for ever the wolf from the fold of the tender objects of their
love : and others still had come hither from a harder neces-
sity, because they were a burden in their own homes, and
would have gone anywhere rather than longer have met
glances so changed in those whom they still loved. And
yet another and more melancholy class than any of these,
because more incomprehensible, were those w^ho sought here
a refuge from themselves, from their own wicked thoughts,
content to spend their days amidst all physical hardships,
" to sleep amidst infection," to die rather than go back to the
solitary companionship of their own*souls.
Over and above everything else one great feeling precl^mi-
nated in the minds of men at Chagres, an impatience to be
away. People no sooner landed on the beach than they
U LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
were bustling round to be olt" again. Tliey ail seemed to
y r/dread that one moment of too long delay, when the malaria
' \ poison should enter their blood, and laugh defiantly at the
I cunningest remedies. Yet this very feeling, so antagonistic
to kindliness and courtesy, to the credit of our r.ature be it
said, ditiused a sentiment of brotherhood throughout this
incongruous mass. Men gazed shudderingly at the too sig-
nificant hillocks everywliere visible, and looked into each
other's faces, saying pitifully, "and i/ou may be the next;"
adding with an inward tremoi-, " or I — and may need your
assistance in the last offices to my humanity."
"But some are dead, and sonic are gone, '
And some are scattered and alone ;
* * * -X- *
And some are in a far countree.
And some all restlessly at home ;
But never more, oh, never we
Shall meet to revel and to roam."
These lines, from the " Siege of Corinth," immediately
succeeding those which I have chosen as a motto for this
work, convey to my mind so truthful an idea of the proba-
ble final disposition of this caravan of liuman beings, that I
have no inclination to enter into a description of their more
common-place characteristics. IIow could I ever hope, by
so doing, to give any accurate idea of the wonderful pano-
rama to which I have but alluded ? It will be better and
more becoming in me to proceed at once with my plain,
matter-of-fact narrative, leaving analysis and generalizations
to more skilful pens.
Amid this chaos of moral life, there were, nevertheless,
some drifting fragments of a better state of things occasion-
ally to be discovered, and these won the eye of the observer
as much by their rarity as by their own inherent beauty.
VALE ASD PARKINS. Id
CHAPTER 11.
VALE AND PARKINS.
ONE morning I was sitting at my nsual place of resort on
the piazza of the Emj)ire City Hotel. It was rather a
livelier day than ordinary — that is, I mean livelier on shore, for
there was a fresh northerly wind blowing, which so tore up the
surface of the sea and caused it to break so furiously upon
the bar and beach, that the boatmen, in spite of their restless
and daring spirit of activity, had not deemed it prudent to
venture out. There was a rumor current on the point that
one boat had started for the steamer Georgia early in the
morning, and been capsized in the breakers off the second
point beyond San Lorenzo, and that all on board had per-
ished. This might have been true or not, but no one cared
to run any risk in investigating the matter ; the lost, who-
ever they were, would never be missed in Chagres, and as"
for the suddenness of their departure, why, it was not
thought of, while so many were dying just as suddenly in
our very midst.
There were three steamers outside, waiting passengers ; and
the large number collected to embark, and the momentary
arrivals of boats down the river with passengers also home-
ward bound, gave a brisk aspect to the social features of life
on shore. There were, besides, not a few unfortunate indi-
viduals, who had arrived at Chagres by these same steamers,
and who, from various reasons, had not yet got away, on
16 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
their journey across tlie Isthiuus. These two classes of
people possessed great interest for each other,. for while the
.outward bound had much to ask of the returned Cahfornians,
and hung upon their words as if their future life were being
shaped by them, and even looked with a kind of religious
awe upon their mud-soiled garments, and haggard, toil-worn
faces, these latter, in turn, regarded their questioners with
looks of mingled pity, wonder, and contempt. It seemed so
strange to them that men having good clothes to wear, ruddy
complexions, and homes where they might have stayed,
were hurrying impatiently to get a sip of that same cup of
hardship and self-denial which they had thought to have al-
most drained to the dregs. They had forgotten what brought
them out in a similar manner, it was so long ago, and so
many more recent and doubtless more palpable troubles had
been theirs. But the " dust " of these same returning gold-
hunters was a greater argument in favor of taking their jjast
course, than anything they could adduce to offset it, because,
in the minds of the outward-bound, as one of them convi-
vially observed, it went right home to the part affected, like
champagne after sea-sickness.
It was a lively day, and yet it would not have been lively
anywhere but in Chagres ; and even there, there was a
dreariness, a baldness, and discomfort about its livehn ess that
modified it very much. There was less rain than usual that
morning, but still enough to keep everything in a very unde-
sirable state of dampness. In walking in from our camp, I
had been saturated sufficiently to take the chivalry pretty
well out of any man. But I had afterwards crossed to the
native side of the town, to purchase some eggs and chickens
for ourselves, and corn for the camels ; and seeing everybody
else in the like situation, had come to take it, as indeed I
did cvervthing: at that time, as a matter of course.
VALE AND PARKINS. Il
As the day progressed, the gale increased. From where
I sat, there was a fine view of the sea and beach ; hut
if the reader should now visit Chagres, he would find a
great change in this part of the town : many new buildings
have been erected between where the Empire City Hotel --
tlien stood and the sea, and the view from its piazza extends
now but to the opposite side of the street. At this time,
however, I could see as far as our camel encampment on
the left, with a high range of hills shutting in the view
beyond, the long beach, the landing point in front, and
the sea, stretching to the horizon, bounded on the right by
the hills and fort of San Lorenzo, and terminating in a
gentle slope leading to the native town, between which and
my point of survey flowed the Chagres river.
I shall not soon foi'get bow gradually but steadily the
wind kept rising that day, and how the great sea heaved
and thundered beneath the touchings of its mighty hand ;
how the rough, hairy breakers doubled and redoubled in
size and fury, lashing the resounding shore with their white
and out-spread arms, and how men came down to gaze at
them as at a bristling army that hemmed them in from all
they loved, and clasped eacb other's hands convulsively,
glad to know that there were others in the world as insig-
nificant and lonesome as themselves. The steamships mj^
the bay rolled till j'ou could see their decks as plainly as
if you were on board ; and boats were torn from their
fastenings, carried out by the retreating waves, and again
whirled up high and dry upon the beach. There were
some old wrecks along the shore, through whose worm-
eaten decrepit timbers the sea caine rushing with a perfect
howl, writhing in and out of portholes and scuppers in
long tortuous lines like angry serpents ; and men gazed
likewise on these black, sepulchral wrecks, and shuddered
18 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
again, and looked back beseechingly to the merciless ocean,
and their quiet homes seemed further off than ever. The
bluff where the fort stood, Avas au especial mark for the sea ;
and its dark, slimy rocks, as they emerged from eacli strug-
gle with the tempestuous waves, looked each time blacker
and more defiant. But on the bar, what a perfect madness of
waters ! There was something awful about it — as if all the
many bones which the sea had ever stolen from the warm,
green earth were moving in their deep beds, and had
contributed something to its ghastly whiteness.
I was smoking and looking about me — now in contem-
plation of the turbulent scene, now in studying the equally
turbulent forms of humanity grouped around, when a man,
somewhat remarkable in all the crowd, presented himself
before me. He was a tall, long-limbed, loose-made man, with
a large head, and a profusion of sandy hair and beard.
He was attired in a suit of pepper-and-salt doeskin,
with a wash-leather money-belt strapped outside about
his waist, and ornamented with a pair of revolvers. He
wore a light felt hat, with a broad brim, similar to those
extensively used in California. But he was no returning
gold-seeker. It was easy enough to see that, in the newness
of his garments, the exposure of his money-belt, the ominous
presence of his pistols, and particularly in the fresh, ruddy
style of his countenance. He had a remarkable face. It
was large, and each feature had its share ; and his beard,
which looked, indeed, more like a mane than a beard — the-
lion's part. There was nothing else about him that resem-
bled a lion very much, except his name, which I afterwards
found out was Sampson — Sampson Vale. He looked
complacent, voluble, good-natured, fickle-minded, easy to
take as well as give an affront, a lover of a certain kind of
etiquette nevertheless, and, on the whole, rather addicted to
the milkiness of human nature. Such, at all events, was,
VALi: AND PAfiKINS. 10
as nearly as 1 can recollect, my lirst impression of the man.
There happened to be a chair vacant at my side, which he
very coolly settled into, and, laying his right hand upon my
left knee, looked mo full in the face, and inquired if I
belonged to the camel party.
I rephed in the affirmative.
"Do you know, sir," continued he, raising his hand from
my knee, and stroking his beard therewith, at the same time
smacking his lips as if in internal relish of the sentiment
he was about to utter, " do you know, sir, that T have
a good opinion of that enterprise ?"
I replied, that never having had the pleasure of seeing or
hearing of him before, I was really not aware of it.
" It is nevertheless a fact," continued he. " As our
acquaintance is of short duration, I suppose that it will be
necessary for nae to inform you that I was educated as a
blacksmith" —
" Are you the learned blacksmith ?" inquired I, interrupt-
ing him.
" Why, not exactly," said he, " the fact is, I am a black-
smith by profession — but, like many people in thi^ world,
I don't always put my profession into practice."
Here he stopped, seeming to have lost the thread of his
discourse, and smacked his hps for some moments with infi-
nite relish.
" Since leaving my trade," resumed he, when he came to
himself, " I have been into a little of everything, and ought
to know something about the world."
" Ought, indeed," observed a small-sized man standing by
his side, whom I had not before observed ; " but you never
will, for you'll never stick to any one thing long enough to
get more than a smattering of it."
"Solomon Parkins," said the sandy-haired man, rising to
20 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.^
Lis extreme height, and looking clown pitifully on the shorter
individual at his side, at the same time stroking liis beard
and smacking his lips with an appearance of deep-seated
self satisfaction, " are you aware, sir, that in attempting to
injui-e me in the estimation of the world, you are rendering
yourself supremely ridiculous ?"
" See here, old Quanto," retorted this modern Solomon,
" nobody is deceived by that affectation of superiority
on your part. So, in future, when you speak to me, please to
lay aside that fatherly style, and recollect that the firm of
Vale and Parkins is dissolved, and that the junior partner is
equal to the senior any day 1"
" Poor Parkins," observed Vale, in a tone of well feigned
commiseration ; he then whispered in my ear, " but you will
please to excuse tliis in him ; for the poor fellow is a little —
a little — you understand — wandering like in tis wits."
I saw that I had " struck a vein," as the Californians say,
and took a more minute survey of my new acquaintances.
The first, I now remarked, in addition to wdaat I had already
observed, had a rapid restless manner of glancing about him,
as if he took in everything there was to be seen, and seized
at once upon its more palpable features. There was no
repose in his countenance to indicate that he was weighing
in his mind the intrinsic worth or uses of what his eyes saw,
much less that he was suggesting to himself any possible
dark side to the picture. His coiiipanion, for companions
they were, and of long standing, I saw at a glance was run in
quite a different mould. Although he probably had nothing
of the old Solomon about him but his name, yet it was very
evident that he was provided with a con for every 2^)'o of
his former business associate. He was attired in a similar
manner to his partner, even to the pistols and felt hat, from
wliich fact it was fair to suppose at first sight that he could
VAT^E AND I'ARKINS. 21
not help entertaining a kind of respect tur iiis opinions,
which nevertheless troubled him ns :i weakness ie[»udiated
by his better judgment.
As I afterwards found out, these men liad bet-u in business
together as blacksmiths some years previous it» a town in
Maine, that the former liad been the active manager and
financier of the firm, and that in consequence of his specula-
tive tendencies and absurd habits, complete ruin had
gradually overtaken them, in the words of Parkins, '' of
course." That they had then dissolved their business con-
nexion, and since then, Mr. Parkins had been adrift on the
world, his naturally gloomy disposition seeing so many
obstacles in every new adventure which presented itself, as to
discourage him from entering upon it altogether; while
Mr. Vale, on the other hand, with his buoyant character and
addiction to the speculative, had dipped into a hundred
different enterprises, but ahvays with the same unsatisfactory
result. And yet although Parkins lost no opportunity of
" showing up Vale," as he expressed it, and never ceased to
reproach him as tlie cause of all his misfortunes, yet having
been once within his influence, he had found it impossible to
withdraw himself; and so followed him in all his mad or
visionary speculations, as a kind of unofficial, junior partner,
living in an atmosphere of sombre retrospections, and drawing-
sustenance from a source which must have sadly affected his
digestion. If Vale had been a man of thoughtful, brooding
temperament, he would have looked upon Parkins as his evil
genius, destined ever more to haunt him, a gloomy shadow
always eating into liis life's sunshine ; but as it was, be
regarded him merely as an unpleasant mosquito, or blue-
bottle, buzzing about, and occasionally butting against the
polished surface of his character — a troublesome little object
to be sure, but one that could easily be brushed away.
22 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
We were now joined by a third party, a man equally tall
with Vale, but thick-set, hard-featured, and with black hair and
beard. He might have been a Califoruian or anything else
that savored of the desperate. He was a bad-looking man.
" How about he the snake ?" inquired he of Vale.
" Oh, all right," answered Sampson. " I left him safe in
his basket, but I am a little in this way about the snake
business, — that is, I am in this way between the snake and
the camel business." Here Mr. Vale held out his right arm,
and placing the palm of his hand j^erpendicularly in the air,
moved it regularly from right to left, and vice versa, intend-
ing to hint thereby that he was in a state of indecision on
the subject, or rocking gently between the two.
" I'll satisfy you on the matter," said the man.
" That won't require much," observed Parkins, with a half
sneer, " but what are those objects floating in the river and
drifting towards the bar ? They look to me like human
bodies."
" Carcasses !" observed the bad-looking fellow brutally.
*' They're not worth saving. If they had dust in their belts
they wouldn't float. But come, it blows too much of a
snorter here, let us go round to the Irving and look after the
snake. Drink anything ?"
I declined the invitation at once, from an unwillingness to
drink with such a wicked-looking man. Parkins had
evidently a desire to indulge, but did not dare to undertake
it without the example of Vale, who also declining, the
snake proprietor stepped up to the bar alone. His manner
of calling for liquor was characteristic. Putting on his
sternest expression, he listened his glance upon a timid
young man among the waiters, and throwing down Iiis dime,
said in a measured Websterian tone, " Let it be plain brandy
and water.''
VALE A.yV PARKINS. 23
We picked our way through the crowd round to the
y/ Irving House. On ascending to the sleeping room, where
were some hundred plain cot beds, in an apartment resem-
bling the garret of an Irish shanty, we were conducted by
Vale to his cot, beneath which, he informed us, was the
pannier containing the snake. With the crooked handle of
a cotton umbrella, wbich he pulled from amongst his lug-
gage, he proceeded to fish out the basket into daylight, but
the snake was gone.
" Stepped out, by Jupiter !" said Vale. " Just my luck ; —
Hilloa ! any of you seen a rattlesnake about nine feet long
loose in this chamber ?"
This cool interrogatoiy was addressed to some eight or ten
saftron-visaged invalids, occupying as many different cots, in
the various stages of Chagres fever. How far the electric
shock thereby communicated to their debilitated frames
helped to kill or cure, I cannot say. One poor devil,
evidently near his end, raised his weary head, and looking at
us Avith a glassy eye, inquired if he heard aright, and if it
was really a rattlesnake we were in search of. On being an-
swered in the aflfirmative, he pointed his thin, pale, skinny
hand towards an india rubber clothes-bag, leaning against
a cot, immediately alongside of where Parkins was stting.
" There is one," gasped he faintly ; " that black-whiskered
man put him there on guard. It's strange enough, but, oh,
thank Heaven, that I'm aot dehrious I"
" You miserable vagabond !" yelled Parkins, as he sprang
from his seat, giving us a full view of a fine specimen of the
scaly brown and white rattlesnake of the tropics. " You old
humbug of a Quanto Valley that you are, don't you see
you've like to kill me with your confounded speculations ?"
" Solomon," observed Vale in reply, " moderate your emo-
tions, and don't make a fool of yourself before strangers."
24 LIFE UN THE ISTHMUS.
" Yes," reaiaiked tlie .siiuke-tamer ; " Yellow Jack speaks
true ; seeing your clothes-bag out in this unprotected style,
I put the snake ou duty. This is one of the uses to which
the animal can be applied, and in this he has no superior."
" Beautiful design !" exclaimed Vale, glancing at Parkins
with a triumphant air ; " they will be invaluable on the
Isthmus and in California, and I should not be surprised to
hear yet of rattlesnakes being put in chai-ge of baggage on
the railroads in the States."
" With the Anaconda," observed the man of serpents, call-
ing off the lattlesnake from his post of duty, and allowing
him to coil upon his arm, with his head downwvards, towards
his hand ; " with the Anaconda we shall do greater things.
This reptile, as you arc probably aware, is possessed of great
fleetness. He can likewise be trained to run in a given direc-
tion. In the carrying of letters and such valuable packages
we can make him of great service."
" There's for you, Solomon," observed Vale, patting Parkins
affectionately between the shoulders. "Anaconda Line across
the Isthmus I Through before breakfast ! How does that
strike you, eh, Solomon 'i I nm afraid, sir," continued he,
turning to me, " that your camels, though doubtless well
disposed beasts, are a httle behind the times."
While Mr. Vale was indulging in this bit of enthusiasm,
and annihilating space thus freely in his own mind, the
wicked snake-tamer had, by various little devices, .such as
pinching and pricking the snake, excited him to the requi-
site degree of rage, and raising his hand to Vale's right
shoulder, as the latter concluded his remarks, let out the
snake upon him in such a decisive manner as caused him.
Vale, to yell with excruciating pain.
" Oh, I'm bit ! I'm bit," roared he, " help, and be quick
with it, or I shall die !"
VALE AND PARKINS. 25
Then it was tliat Tarkins, forgetful of all the little matters
of dift'erence between them, and looking only to the salvation
of him who had once been his counsellor and friend, lost
entirely what little quantum of wit he ever possessed, and
rushed at random among the cots, calling upon somebody,
anybody, to saw off Vale's leg, or fetch an emetic, or do
something else likely to be of equal service in the cure of a
venomous bite.
Meanwhile, Sampson lay in his last agony upon the cot,
tossing to and fro, his countenance already changing and
becoming spotted, and frothy saliva running from his
mouth ; there he lay, gazing beseechingly upon the dark-
visaged snake-fancier at his side.
" Enough of this," said the latter at length, with a kind
of disgust in liis tone ; and turning Vale over upon his back,
he applied his mouth to the part affected, and drew back the
poison which was already dissipated in various parts of the
system. He stayed a moment while his patient recovered in
a measure his Avonted quietude, and then carefully replacing
the rattlesnake in his wicker pannier, bade us a courteous
good morning, and went off down stairs.
" I am glad he is gone," said the sick man, who had first
pointed the snake out to us, " not that there was any fear
of his biting we, but when a man's moments are few, and he
needs all liis last thoughts for God and himself, it somehow
disconcerts him very much, to know that there is a live
rattlesnake within a few feet of his bed."
Ye who are about to die at home, in the midst of your
family and friends, with everything made soft and tender to
your aching limbs, with every harsh sound hushed about
you, and every wish gratified almost sooner than expressed ;
think of this Chagres death-bed — for it is no fancy
sketch.
2
26 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
Vale recovered as speedily as he was taken ; Parkins
also recovered — his wits.
" Solomon," said I to him aside, as I was going off (his
Christian name was so fitly inappropriate, that one could not
resist calling him by it); " tliis would be a good thing for
your old partner, if it would learn him not to meddle with
■what he doesn't understand."
"All creation couldn't do that," returned Solomon, "I
couldn't myself"
And as if to prove the truth of this remark, Sampson
Vale thereupon straightened himself up in bed, and thus
delivered himself: —
" Solomon, my lad, that was well done, eh. If I could
only learn that dodge, we'd make our fortune in the State
of Maine alone. I'd draw out the poison, and you'd be the
man to be bitten !"
.1 [JFE SAVED. 27
CHAPTER III.
A LIFE SAVKD.
ON returning to tlie point I found Tom, who liad come in
from the camp to hunt me up, as he said, and notify
me that dinner was nearly ready.
" One of those chickens that you sent out by Ei-Sta,"
observed he, " was condemned before going to the spit.
Mrs. Wallack and your wife were present at the opening of
him ; and his breakfast, consisting of two centipedes and a
scorpion, still lay in his stomacli undigested. I suppose they
did not want to eat a dyspeptic animal, as they immediately
ordered the fowl to be thrown away. In lieu of him we are
to bave a dish of green lizard frieaseed.''
" Where is the Major ?" inquired I.
" You know very well," replied Tom, " that he never
leaves the camels except for the woods. What a keen eye
for sport he has to be sure ! and how he revels in the bosom
of this voluptuous nature ! lie is as fond of the bush as you
are of the town, Xow, do you know what he said to me this
morning, as I was complaining of our delay in this cursed
hole ? ' Tom,' said he, ' a man that don't enjoy himself at
Chagres, is a disgrace to human nature, and a libel on the
Almighty I' Such a complimentary thrust as that, of course,
was a clincher."
" Our cold-blooded and barren New England natures,"
said I, " are little fitted to sympathize with the impulsive
28 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
temperament of one born and reared, as the Major has been,
among the glorious wild woods of Kentucky."
" I should think," continued Tom, " that he had never
lived anywhere else. AVhy, I have seen him lie for hours
on the damp grass of the woods, watching the birds at their
occupations or sport among the boughs, or straining his eyes
to catch each particular shade of their varied plumage, as
they shot across the only line of sunshine that had ventured
down that lonely path. And I have seen, too, his eyes
glisten, like the green and gold scaly feathers on the breast
of the king-hummers, as he calls them, when in some more
venturesome wheel of theirs he has discovered something
which he had not previously seen, ' some new beauty,' as he
terms it. Of course he has a right to enjoy himself as he
thinks proper, and prefer his fifty varieties of the humming-
bird even to the golden cock of the rock, and the crimson
and purple-crested chatterers, if he will ; but I must say, I
should think better of the Major's taste if he did not treat
my parrots and toucan quite so cavalierly !"
" What do you think of the weather, Tom ?"
" I think, if this wind lasts much longer, w6 shall have to
up stakes, and move our camp back to the Indian village.
The spray comes at times as far as the old trees, and makes
the camels fairly wince under it."
" No damage done yet, I hope ?"
" Well, none out there ; but I must tell you of a laugh-
able affair which occurred on the beach a few minutes before
you returned. You recollect that small panel house, which
was bought by my protege. Bill Smith, and which he had
erected in the rear of old Joe's house, there ?"
" Certainly, and called the Camel Restaurant."
" Exactly, in honor of our quadrupeds. Well, one of
those outrageous rolleis, which you sometimea see, made a
A LIFE SAVED. 29
rush for Bill's liotol, and, nut being founded on a rock, as
you are aware, it was swept away. It happened that Bill
and two or three others were inside at the time. When the
establishment was found to be fairly outward bound, they
crept forth, amid the shouts of the crowd. By the aid of a
coil of stout rigging which was fortunately at hand, they
were all safely landed. Just as Bill was coming out of the
surf, his natural love of the theatrical prevailed. Turning
to his retreating house, now in a score of pieces, he immor-
talized himself as follows : ' There goes the homestead — and
Jim Wilkins's boots with it —
' " And now I'm in the world alone,
Upon the wide, wide sea —
But why should I for others groaa
When none will sigh for me ?" '
The effect was beautiful : particularly as not one in a hun-
dred of the crowd had ever read Byron, and the lines were,
consequently, credited to Bill, as a happy effusion of the
moment."
" Your protege will probably now fall back upon his
original idea, of returning in the Double Eagle ?"
" Yes," said Tom, " Bill has decided to take the back track.
He has seen the tip of the elephant's tail, and don't care
about a further acquaintance with the animal."
It may be as well here, for the gratification of those
readers who like to see things through in every particular,
and who take an especial interest in the pecuniary results
of adventure, to state that our vessel arrived at Chagres
at a very favorable moment for a return freight. There
was, as I have before said, a large number of returning
Californians, seeking passage to the States. With the lum-
ber which had served for the camel stalls, we fitted up the
30 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
vessel's hold for the accommodation of seventy passengers,
and as she lay inside of the bar, almost touching the levee in
fact, the desired number was easily obtained. I will merely
add as a mercantile fact, that these passengers paid fifty
dollars a head — a pretty good business for the owners you
will allow — and so dispose of the Double Eagle once for all.
Not that I am wearv, either, of the pleasant associations
which will ever cluster about the memory of her voyage, or
cease to think of her as floating always in an atmosphere
of pleasant sunshine, with some of the desert sand still
lodged in the fibres of her rigging, and the seams of her
d^ck ; but our life while on board her was a dreamy aod
fanciful one, and we have now come to deal with hard
realities.
It was about time to think of returning to the camp for
dinner, and we should accordingly have taken uj) our line
of iTiarch thitherward, had it not been that, at that mo-
ment, there was every appearance of the approach of rain
— even while we had been talking, the whole sky had
become overcast and leaden, settling gradually lower and
lower, and hemming in the horizon on every side, till we
seemed to be sitting under a dark, shadowy arch, within
which none of heaven's sunshine had ever come. Its radia-
tion blackened tlie sea, save where it gave a pallid hue to its
whiteness, and made the shore look dark and sombre, and
changed also the countenances of men. Beyond its visible
sides, the mutterings of the thunder made one think of
huge vapory monsters bellowing in the black forests of
cloud-land. And the great breakers, equally monstrous,
now that they seemed shut up within the same gloomy
confine as ourselves, were perfectly frightful to listen to, as
they roared in such solemn madness up the beach. There
was no chilliness attending this onset, vet men closed their
A LIFE SAVED. 31
lips firmly, and buttoned their garments to their chins, as if to
fight a subtle enemy. At last it struck, dancing gleefully with
its million feet, upon the ragged surface of the sea, trampling
over the roofs, and bristling up against the sides of houses,
or hurrying headlong in close array down the channels of
the street. And now God help the invalids under those
same roofs, for there is not one of them but has his own
particular rivulet, to give a chillier cast to his discomfort ;
and God help those who are on the river, among whom
there may be women and children, for a thousand streams
are rushing from the mountains to swell its tide, which will
soon run like a mill-sluice, and drifting trunks of trees and
snags, and fearful eddies at sudden bends, are hard things to
navigate amongst. And those poor devils, who have no
change of clothing (and there are many such here), who are
liable to lie down to-night in their wet garments on damp beds,
and wake in the morning with an ague that shall stick to their
bones for years, are they not also to be pitied and prayed for?
" Sail ho !" shouted a voice, as the vapory mass dis-
solved itself, and disclosed the old horizon far out seaward
— a strange cry at such a time, and a hazardous navigator
it must be, who would not claw off a rock-bound coast, with
the devil's own roadstead at the best, in such a gale, and
with dirty Aveather to boot. It was nevertheless no false
alarm ; a large ship, under reefed jib and close reefed top-
sails, was bearing directly down for the anchorage. She
came upon our vision opportunely enough, stepping with such
a fearless gallant air into our storm-drenched circle, another
connecting link with the bright world away. As she round-
ed to before dropping anchor, careening in the process till
her yard-arms touched the water, and showing upon deck
the usual crowd of passengers, she displayed at her mizen-
peak the glorious tricolor of sister France.
32 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
I love the French ! — I love them, not because of their
great name in history, nor of the noble monuments of art
and science which they have scattered along the annals of
their whole national existence, nor wholly because of their
unquenchable love of liberty and their dashing spirit of
adventure, but for their genial, generous soul ; because they
have an eye for everything that is bright and beautiful ;
because they are the apostles of cheerfulness, and in what-
ever circumstances we meet them contribute so much to
make the weary days of our life seem gay and lightsome.
If a man would find the most direct road to my heart,
let him come in the name of Lafayette.
Landing at such a time was, of course, not to be thought
of by any sane mind ; and yet, if my eyes did not deceive me,
preparations for that purpose were going on. Yes, there is
a boat on the lee side, with two oarsmen already in ; and
there is a third descending by the man-ropes. A desperate
set of fellows, certainly 1 — they must be short of provisions,
and are going alongside of one of the steamers for a supply.
But no — they head for the shore ! Can it be possible ? It
is but a frail skiff — the captain's gig, probably, and we can
only catch a glimpse of lier now and then, as she rises like
an egg-shell on the very crest of a towering sea. She
comes on gallantly, guided by no tyro. And yet, what
folly to have made the venture ! for they must certainly
lose their boat, and, unless expert swimmers, will all go to
the bottom together. Bravo 1 she comes on well ; that
fellow is a worthy countryman of those who never flinched
while " following the imperial eagle over the Alps." She is
heading directly for the fort. She will soon be among the
breakers !
" Men there I" said a small, spare, pale-faced fellow,
coming out of the hotel, "who'll go with me in a surf-
A LIFE SAVED 33
boat, for a rescue ot' those crazy-headed fellows .' Talk
fast !"
But not a man stirred.
" A free grog bill at my hotel (for this young man was
landlord of the " Empire City ") ; lodgings while you stay,
and anything else you may want into the bargain : only
come on ! "
" Take back that otler," said Tom, springing to his feet,
" and I'm with you for one ! "
A dozen others immediately presented themselves. The
landlord picked out a tall, sandy-haired man ; and saying
two were enough, hurried down to the boat. To my
surprise, this second man was Vale.
/" There goes the venturesome old fool," said a voice at
my elbow, which I need not inform the reader belonged to
the ex-junior partner.
Recognising me, he tapped my shoulder cautiously, and
whispered in my ear, " But we must make allowances for
Signor Quanto ; for do you know, that in reality he's crazy
as a coot ? "
" Why do you call him Quanto ? " said I. "That is not
his name."
" No," replied Parkins, " his name is Sampson Vale ; but
the conceited old scoundrel bought a book in New York enti-
tled ' Spanish in .Six Lessons ;' and having studied that day
and night on the passage, of course considers himself
a proficient in the language. You can hear him any hour
of the day dickering with the natives on the beach, always
beginning his remarks with ' Quanto Valet.' That is why
we have nicknamed him thus ; not so bad either, considering
that valley is a kind of short for Vale."
But the boats. The Frenchman's is already on the edge
of the bar, and the helmsman sits in the stern-sheets as coollv
2*
34 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
as Napoleon in tlie saddle at Marengo. And our gallant
young landlord is likewise nearing the other edge; he is
standing, and steers with an oar. They are approaching each
other like knights at a tournament; but the white, roaring,
seething gulf is between them.
Heaven help us ! the Frenchman is in. Ha ! a rudder is a
feeble thing in such a caldron ; she twists and twines like a
serpent. But see, something has broken ; she is off in the
trough ! angels of mercy, she is over; they are lost!
Not quite, for they are not in deep water, and the oarsmen
are already clinging to the rocks under Fort Lorenzo. The
helmsman, where is he ? All right. He is on his legs, Avith
the sea showei'ing him like a cataract. But he is a fellow
of nerve, and will weather it. There he goes over, under.
O God, he is lost!
Stay, there is the surf-boat within her length of him ; she
is climbing the same breaker that knocked him under ; she
is bolt upright on its perpendicular side. See, she rises to it,
and floats again with her bows deep in the brine. There is
no Frenchman to be seen ; he must have carried something
heavy about his person, for he has gone down. Hurrah !
there he is; haul him in, boys! Nine cheers for Quanto
Valley ! Give it to him, boys, and raise the dead !
Yes, at the young helmsman's command, Sampson Vale
had hitched his oar, and his old sledge-hammer arm never
did better or prompter service. In an eye's twinkle, as it
were, the Frenchman was safely deposited in the bows, and
Sampson hard at it again on the long and strong stroke.
They pulled out into the comparatively smooth water, where
our young hero of a helmsman sliifted his oar end for end,
and by a use of the same dexterity which he had already
shown, recrossed the bar in safety, and with gentle strokes
the boat came slowly up to the point.
.4 LIFE SAVED. ' 35
I thiuk it is the author of the '" Bachelor of the Albany"
who says, " the delicate spirits of earth are the bravest."
The landlord of the Empire City Hotel was a young man
of a frail and almost etiemiiiate form, an Italian by birth, but
educated in America. He had the elegant classic profile and
curling h^ir peculiar to his countrymen, and would have
been called rather pretty than handsome. But he had the
bearing of a prince, and the fire of a thousand furnaces in his
coal-black eye. His name was Angelo Vitti.
When the Frenchman came to land, we saw at once that
he was a man of a distinguished presence and resolute cha-
racter. ,' He seemed a little chagrined at having been the hero
of such an awkward affair, or rather at having been the awk-
ward hero of so gallant an aft'air, for his whole deportment
exhibited a profound sense of acknowledgment to Vitti and
his companions. As he turned to look after his brave oars-
men, who were now scrambling along on the opposite side of
the river beneath the beetling crags of the fort, we saw that
he had received in his fall a severe blow upon his head. (The
blood was flowing profusely therefrom, and it was probably
in consequence of this that he staggered, and but for the
timely aid of Tom and Quanto Valley would have fallen to
the ground. At the direction of Vitti he was taken to the
hotel.
A Chagres hotel makes but a sorry hospital. Vitti, how-
ever, had in his establishment rooms of his own, where it was
said more elegance and comfort were to be found than in any
other place in Chagres. It was also whispered that this suite
of apartments was presided over by a sister of Vitti's, a
beautiful girl, who was to hiin a kind of ministering angel,
and kept in check, by her presence, the native desperateness
of his character. For if the truth must be told, this young
adventurer was a gambler, and, like many of his couutiymen,
36 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
"suddeu and quick in qiianel." Here was a nice bit of
romance for you.
To one of these rooms the Frenchman was immediately
taken, and I being at hand was the fortunate individual who
Avas dispatched for a surgeon. As good luck would have it,
my staunch friend Doctor G was at that moment on the
piazza, and we accordingly went up together.
The room into which we were ushered, was an apartmen*
redolent of elegance and good taste. I may not be able to
describe its minute features, but its tirst appearance commu-
nicated to my frame an electric thrill of pleasure. It was as if I
had shut my eyes, and there had come suddenly to my inner
sense a sweet vision of home. We stepped from the rough
boards of the entry, upon a soft and yielding tapestry carpet;
the richly carved chairs, sofas, lounges, and pier tables, all
of the choicest designs, the costly mirrors, the choice paint-
ings, the vases, statuary, and flowers, the whole arranged
with such an exquisite eye to pleasing effect, overcame us
like a dream ; for it seemed to our hungry and unaccustomed
senses, as if there was an odor from the spirit of beauty, Hke
that which diffuses itself from " spices, and balm, and myrrh,"
filling the apartment and overhanging it " like a summer
cloud." Of a verity, the most delicious intoxication cometh
not from the wine cup. There is a subtle essence of which men
have sometimes quaffed too freely, which fires the brain, and
sends them mad, and staggering about the earth. But I am
too fast —
When we entered, the Frenchman Avas reclining on a
sofa, and Tom stood by his side washing the wound, while
Sampson Vale held the water basin. Doctor G examined
the part affected, and pronounced the blow to be by no
means a serious one, arid that with quiet and suitable
attention the unfortunate man would soon recover.
A LIFE SAVED. 37
" "Where is Vitti i" said I to Tom, " did lie not come up
with you ?"
" Yes," replied Tom, " and he has gone to his sister's cham-
ber, to consult about what is to be done with this wounded
knight."
There were two rooms leading from that in which we
were, one the chamber of Vitti, and the other occupied
by his sister. From the latter, Vitti came forth as we Avere
speaking, leading by the hand a young and beautiful girl, in
whom it was easy to see the outward signs of a near
relationship.
" My sister," said he proudly, presenting her to us.
I shall not attempt to give to the reader a description of
the person of this gentle girl. Her image is so asso-
ciated in my mind with the highest, holiest idea of a sister's
love and devotion, that I fear lest I should mar its delicate
lineaments by venturing on their delineation. A tender exotic
from fair Italy, her outward frame was a true type of the
exquisite beauty of her character.
" Lotta," said Vitti, looking towards the suft'erer, " here
is an invalid for you to nurse ; take good care of him, and I
think he may survive the cflects of his recklessness,"
" AVith much pleasure," answered Lotta, in the tenderest
of tones, " if you desire it, dear xlngelo."
She looked into her brother's eyes as she spoke, a look as
calm, and pure, and peaceful, as that which the quiet stars shed
down from heaven, and she saw not the glance of unfeigned
wonder and admiration wliich the sick man cast towards
her. There was nothing wrong about the look ; it was the
spontaneous tribute of a susceptible heart to woman's loveli-
ness; and had she seen it, it would not have called the faint-
est blush of maidenly shame to her cheek, and yet I did not
like it.
65037
38 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
It was a presentiment hard to define. The countenance
of the Frenchman was such a specimen of manly beauty ; there
was something in his clear broad forehead and large soul-lit
eyes, so proud and trustworthy ; there was not the vestige of
anything mean, base, or sensual in his whole deportment,
but something noble and generous, that spoke of the great,
because good qualities inherent in the heart. If there is any
truth written in human physiognomy, he was a man to be
trusted, aye, even with the infinite wealth of a virgin's heart"
But if he was not, then God help the world, for there is no
outward mark upon his creatures by which we may know
them — the good from the bad.
And yet I did not like this sudden recognition, on his
part, of the girl's grace and beauty, for it seemed to me as
if she were spiritualized by the position she had chosen for
herself in life — a thing apart from earth-)— and I could not
contemplate this possible connexion with it, even in the
highest, purest form, without an accompanying presentiment
of evil. I cannot define this impression, but 1 felt it not the
less strongly because so vaguely.
/ft seemed that Vitti had experienced a corresponding sen-
timent.
" Lotta," said he playfully, as we were all leaving to go
down stairs together, " take good care of yourself, darling, as
well as of your patient."
""She answered with the same heart-touching tenderness as
before.
" Our dear father and mother are in heaven, Angelo. You
know how they loved us while on earth. Did we cease to
love them, or become in any way unworthy of their con-
tinued aftection, would it not, think you, mar their eternal
happiness ?"
Beautiful Carlotta Vitti ! thy parents were indeed iu
A LIFE SAVED. 39
heaven ; and thou, in thy loveliness and purity, wert not
far from them.
We descended the stairs in a kind of stupor, like persons
who had seen a vision. I was brought to my every-day
senses by a piercing scream from Quanto Valley. The snake
proprietor had met us on the piazza, and laid his hand fami-
liarly upon Quanto's shoulder.
" Nay, don't yell in that manner," said he ; " although by
the insertion of my finger nails into your liesh, I could poi-
son you as easily as a serjient. But be easy on that score.
You are a brave fellow in your way, and to-day have done
me a good service. Do you understand," continued he, as
Vale looked a little bewildered, " in the rescue of the French
Marquis de G you have done me good service ?"
I shall never forget the desperately wicked expression of
the fellow's face as he said this — Heaven and Hell ! Hell
and Heaven ! And can it be that there is so little earthly
space between the two ?
40 LIFE 0:>' THE ISTHMUS.
CHAPTER IV
MONSIEUR CltAl'OLKT.
•» AH, but we went merrily" in our eiicampiiieut by the
v/ sea. The few days that we spent at Chagres were by
no means tedious. Our mode of life was as uncivilized and
gipsyish, as the most ardent lover of the picturesque could
desire. We certainly had enough to make us uncomfortable,
shifts enough to make to get along any way, and we there-
fore enjoyed ourselves extremely.
The first night of our stay in camp had been a rainy one,
and we immediately found out that our Arab tents were not
the requisite style of dormitories for that country. We had,
accordingly, the next day purchased in town some panel
houses, and tarred canvas for covering them. By this
arrangement we had plenty of lodging-room. Our cooking
was done in the rear, the stove being set up beneath a roof
of tarred canvas supported on sticks. We eat out of doors,
in pleasant weather, squatting upon tlie grass in Arab
fashion, and during the showers, anywhere that promised
shelter.
It didn't, however, matter so much where we slept, as that
we slept at all ; or in what place we eat, provided we had
any thing to eat, and cooked in such a manner as to render
it palatable. As for sleeping, we had to do it whenever we
could. There was no particular time set apart and conse-
ciatod to it — I mean rimong the multitude then at Chagres.
MONSIEUR CRAPOLET. 41
Their ideas on this subject wei-e very loose. People who
had broken away from the conventionalities of life in other
respects, were not expected to conform to this very negative
one of obser\nng a particular hour for retiring to rest ; and
the result was, that we were often favored with company at
a time when we were quite unprepared for their reception.
Parties inquest of better accommodation than they had been
able to find in Chagres proper, deluded by our lights in the
distance, came thither, and were unwilling to be persuaded
that we did not keep a hotel or house of entertainment.
Marauding parties, who had found night hideous at the
" Irving " and " Empire City," were instinctively felt at times
to be creeping amongst the brushwood, or plunging into the
river on our left, and occasionally made us certain of their
actual neighborhood by firing otF guns and pistols at inof-
fensive objects of natural history. The worst of all these
unpleasant little coteries, were, I think, those who were
addicted to serenading. Oh, the hours that I have lain, half
asleep and half awake, wondering who it was that persisted
so pertinaciously in his request to be carried " back to old Yir-
ginny ;" and where was that poor girl Susannah, who was so
plaintively coaxed to abstain from crying ; and that cruel but
" lovely Fan," why didn't she " come out to-night," and still
these complaining longings ? Yet to say that we did not
rather like this state of things, would be hardly true. It
was such an excellent representation of the pursuit of con-
viviality under difficulties, that not to have appreciated it
would have shown a barrenness of spirit, to which I, for one,
do not feel willing to plead guilty.
In the alimentary department, things were very unsettled.
It was difficult, in the first place, to get anything to eat ;
such a hungry set as were these gold-seekers while
in transitu^ I believe the world never saw before or since.
42 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
They were, it is true, charged a high price for their meals,
but then it was on this very account tlie more foolish in
them to attempt to act up to the Yankee doctrine of gettino-
their money's worth, inasmuch as what they did eat oi-dina-
rily, was, in one particular, like land in the state of New
Hampshire, worth the most the least there was of it. But
such as it was even, it was hard to get. It is true, there
was a bullock daily slaughtered by a misei'able specimen of
human nature from Carthagena, wlio used to sell him, hide,
horn, and hoof, and, it was whispered, an old boot or two
into the bargain ; but as I had observed that none of the
Chagres residents ever partook of this luxury, we acted
upon the hint, and likewise denied ourselves the same. But
it is idle to tell what we didn't have ; and it was certainly
curious to see what Ave did have, and how we went to work
to get it.
Thei-e was now and then an arrival from Jamaica or
Carthagena, with turtle, chickens, sheep, yams, plantains,
and the like. When this supply fell short, we made diplo-
matic visits from kitchen to kitchen of the various hotels ;
and if perchance a less ravenous spirit than usual had that
day prevailed at table, we assisted to keep from spoiling the
fragments which remained. At other times, we went on
board vessels lying alongside of the levee, and sometimes
succeeded in getting a junk of "old horse;" and, on one
occasion — a fjict, reader — a pot of baked beans ! Theso
things, imited with what the Major brought in from the
woods, and Avhat Ave received as tribute from bivouacs in
our neighborhood, kept us after a fashion.
Our hours for eating were, Avhenever Ave had anything
prepared to eat. And here was a neAv source of annoyance,
the preparing of our food. AVe had no cook, although our
library boasted of a cook-book. Often a dish whose appear-
MONSIEUR CRAPOLET. 43
ance we had anxiously awaited, would present itself in such
a questionable shape, that we dared not touch it. It had
beeiT prepared " according to the book ;" only in cases where
Ave did not have the ingredients required by the said book,
we had sometimes substituted such as we did have, which
altered materially the whole flavor and relish of the thing.
But an acquisition was in store for us, wliich was to put
things in this department on an entirely new footing.
I think it was some two days after the arrival of the
French ship, that Tom and I were loafing despairingly about
home, after an unsuccessful sally into the town for food. It
was two o'clock ; and we had that morning breakfasted at
nine. The Major was in the woods, naturalizing. Our
Moors were preparing a huge pot-full of their everlasting
kes-coo-soo, a dish which they were never tired of.
" Tom,", said I in a feeble tone, " our sole resource now is
in the Major."
" Yes," replied Tom ; " and a possible dinner oft' hum-
ming-birds is a very unsatisfactory prospect to look forward
to."
"To think, Tom, that we have nothing in camp but the
remains of a barrel of biscuit, two junks of salt pork, one
ham, a few eggs, a little salt and sugar."
"Except the liquor," said Tom, mournfully.
" And four o'clock is coming, Tom."
" Yes," said Tom, musing ; " and five — "
" Aye, and six, Tom."
A shout from the returning Major interrupted this spirited
dialogue. He hove in sight through the bushes in the rear
ground, and was accompanied by a portly stranger ; the two
being followed at a short distance by a very old negro. As
they approached, we were pleased to see that the Major bore
a string of birds ; and that his companion, besides his fowling-
44 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
piece and ammunition, carried a large basket, wliicli, from the
manner in ■which it affected his gait, evidently contained
something heavy. The old negro had also a struggling ani-
mal, which looked amazingly like a monkey, slung across
liis back, and a large pagara, or wicker basket, poised upon
his head.
" Monsieur Crapolet," said the Major, presenting his com-
panion.
" Messieurs, j'ai bien Thonneur," said Monsieur Crapolet,
bowing with the easy off-hand courtesy of a Frenchman.
Yes, this was Monsieur Crapolet — a gentleman, it is true,
of whom I had never heard before, but a man most worthy
to be heard of, notwithstanding. In physique he was a large
man, above the common height, and very portly. He had a
broad full face, and a head bald upon the top, which shone
when he removed his hat in saluting us, as if it had been
varnished. His beard was closely shaven and well sprinkled
with grey stumps, as was also the short crispy hair upon the
sides and back of his head. He had the merry twinkle of a
hon vivant in Ids small blue eyes ; and a vohi])tuous style
of mouth, about which lingered palpably some of the savory
essence distilled from the many good things which had tra-
velled that " red pathway." This very pleasant specimen of
humanity was attired in a coarse blue hunting-shirt, hanging
loose over a pair of white cotton trowsers, stout shoes of raw
liide, and a broad-brimmed, dull-colored chapeau de fantasie.
The Major, who had already made this gentleman out to
be a character, informed us that he had invited him to
make "one of us." Men are always gayest when on their
last legs. With starvation awaiting us at the next corner,
we nevertheless welcomed this additional })alate to our midst,
and Tom proposed to celebrate the occasion by a drink.
" Khali it be I'eau-de-vie ?" inquired he of our new friend.
MOiySIEUR CRAPOLET. 45
The Frenclunan upon this challenge laid down his arms,
and divesting himself of chapeau, powder-flask, and shot-
pouch, observed that he should interpose no objection to our
taking a small sip all round of that excellent " eau que
prolonge la vie, et que nous rends gai et joyeuse."
I need not say that this introductory sentiment of his
completely won our hearts, and made us the more regret the
lack of means for carrying out a hospitality which was so
well received. I ventured to observe thus much to Monsieur
Crapolet, who quite perfected his conquest over us by reply-
ing—
" Soyez tranquille. I will take charge of the culinary
department myself ; I have a boy with me who is au fait in
such matters — Thom, venez ici."
The old negro deposited his pagara and monkey near the
" cook-house," and came tottering up to where we sat. He
was a toothless, grizzly, decrepit subject. He was a " boy"
doubtless, in the sense that he was far advanced in second
childhood. I am not aware of any way of ascertaining with
exactitude a negro's age, but I think that this boy must
have been somewhere in the second century of his existence.
So long, indeed, had his soul and body been together, that
the one seemed to have lost entirely its influence with the
other, for this boy had a habit of constantly spitting when
lie talked, and he always thought aloud, and of scratching
his head at frequent intervals — little physical peculiarities
which I am very sure a professional cook would not indulge
in, if lie was supposed to have any control over his bodily
functions. In that very remote period when Thom had been
younger than he now was, he had probably been somewhat
of a hard customer, if one might draw any inference at all
from sundry deep cuts across his cheek and shoulders, and
the fact that both of his ears were considerably cropped ;
46 LIFE O.V THE ISTIIMl S.
even now, as lie stood before us, lie tairly crouched as if in
expectation of the well remembered lash. His costume is
easily described. It consisted of m pair of coarse blue cotton
trowsers.
" This boy," said ^Monsieur Crapolet, giving the youth a
gentle chuck under the chin, which sent his di'ooping lower
jaw with prodigious force against the upper, and brought
his face into a horizontal position ; " this boy, whom I call
Thorn, an abbreviation of the English name Thomas, under-
stands well his affair. N''cst-ce 'pas^ Thorn?"
" Oui, monsieur,^'' said Thom. He was not so much a
promising boy as an assenting one.
"^/i bien, Thom, we will to-day have for dinner" — and
our new superintendent of the culinary department went on
with a string of dishes, specified in the Creole dialect, which
betokened something bountiful, if not nice. At the enume-
ration of each article, Thom inserted his assenting " Oui,
monsieur.^'' For so negative a character, he certainly made
a great use of the affirmative in conversation.
Monsieur Crapolet then stated that he had only one con-
dition to make with us before entering upon the practical
duties of his situation, and that was that he should be the
supreme head of his department, and that no one else should
interfere even to the extent of visiting the cook-house while
in operation. As it has always been an article of my creed
not to inquire too closely into the causes of any good prac-
tical result, this arrangement was quite acceptable, so far as I
was concerned at any rate, and the chief and his subordinate
immediately set about their preparatory labors. An addi-
tional piece of canvas was stretched perpendicularly across
the front of the cook-house, at a considerable distance from
the other buildings of our encampment. Behind this were
taken the pagara, basket, and monkey. What was next done
MOySIEUR CRAPOLET. 41
I cannot sa}-. The black curtain of tarred canvas hung
heavy and impenetrable between us and the theatre of ope-
rations, and the mysteries of that place are yet unrevealed.
When dinner was fairly under weigh, as we judged from
the savory odors which occasionally drifted outward to our
domiciles, Monsieur Crapolet came forth, witli his large, full
face all aglow with pleasurable emotions.
" Ca va ! 9a va !" said he, rubbing his hands together, " we
shall eat something good to-day — Thom est un garqon
d'esprit."
'• How does it happen," said I, beckoning him to a seat
beside me, " that a gentleman of your talents and Parisian
tastes is adrift in such a dreary land as this ?"
"Ah," replied Monsieur Crajjolet, "you have touched
upon a delicate theme, in consequence of which we will take
another coup de petit lait, for, voyez-vous, I have a little
weakness on this subject."
" And so you are not a gold-seeker," said I, after we had
each taken a refreshing sip of " petit lait."
" In me," said he, striving hard to suppress the rosy
twinkle of his eye, and speaking in a melancholy voice, which
came strangely out of such a bonhomie mouth, " you be-
hold an unfortunate individual, who has left a land where
they have interred all whom he once loved."
" Indeed," said I, trying to raise a tender tone, for in a
robust gentleman of fifty this allusion was not so pathetic as
I could have desired, — " an affair of the heart ?"
" Au juste !" said he, laying both hands upon his bowels
in a manner expressive of great pain, and which led me to
think at first that our " petit lait" was not the right medicine
in his case. " I am here because solitude, hardships, and
self-denial — another petit coup of this excellent ' lait,'' if you
please — are, as I was about to say, the true remedy for a
48 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
lacerated heart. You see, in my younger days I was a sus-
ceptible boy. Mon dieu, how my heart used to beat when
a bright eye showered its radiance upon me ! Sir, if you
will believe me, a swan-like neck, or an elegantly chiselled
foot, made my knees shake under me. Eh bien ! in our
village, for I was born in a small village near Paris, there
were two demoiselles, between whom my heart was equally
divided, Virginie and Mathilde — un petit coup de lait a leur
sante."
])ear, delightful Monsieur Crapolet, he is getting deep into
pathos, but if he is not careful the constitutional bonhomie
of his nature will run away with him.
" You see," continued he, after fortifying himself witli a
copious draught, " that this was a harassing state of things.
So terrible did this condition of uncertainty as to the prepon-
derating state of my aft'ections become, that I was forced to
fly my country. In a far land, said I, my heart will become
tranquil, and be able coolly to choose its future life-long com-
panion. Y"ou may believe me, Sir, when I tell you, that I
had resided seventeen years in Cayenne, French Guiana,
before I fully made up my mind as to which of the two mj'^
affections most strongly inclined. It proved to be Virginie,
— another coup de lait, s'il vous plait, a la sante de ma chere
Virginie."
" And it was in Frencli Guiana that you made the ac-
quaintance of Thom, our cook ?"
"Sir, you are my friend. Thom, too, is an excellent boy,
but I beg of you that you will not mention him in this con-
nexion. Eh bien, after an absence of seventeen years, I
returned to my native land with the intention of espousing
Virginie, or, in the event of anything having happened to
her, making Mathilde the happy companion of my bosom —
and what do you think — I found them both "
MONSIEUR CRAl'OLET. 49
" Uead r
" Dead ! le diable — uo, married !"
Here was a climax. I must cerlaiuly Lave mistranslated
his remark about iuterriug tlie objects of Lis love. I Lad a
strong desire to laugL, and am sure that we sLould have
had " an aflair," Lad not TLom at tliat moment announced
the dinner.
It was served upon a table built in CLagres fashion ; that
Ls, upon rough pine boaids laid atliwart of empty barrels.
We had soup to begin with, and various other smoking and
palatable-looking dishes. We were all of us pretty hungry,
and I believe enjoyed the repast none the less for its mys-
terious appearance. It was plain enough that Monsieur
Crapolet had purged his bosom of a good deal of " perilous
stuft" by his confession to me, for he now appeared as a
polite Frenchman in full feather, helping the ladies to a bit
of roast veal, some of the canvas-back, just a wing of fri-
caseed chicken, and the like ; while the rest of us looked on
in amazement, not so much at the variety of dishes which
were produced by Thom at such short notice, as to find that
liis master had a name ready for each.
Xow, reader, my belief then was, and still is, that our
dinner that day, roast veal, mutton chop, baked duck, frica-
seed chicken, stewed brains, petites pates, and Avhatever else
we might have had, all owed its origin to that wounded
monkey which I liavf already alluded to as Laving been
smuggled by Tom beLind the ra!i\as curtain. And my
reasons are, tLat, in tLe firnl place, Le never appeared again
in life. In tLe second place, a monkey's skin and entrails
were found tLe next day at a sLort distance from camp,
directly in rear of the cookery, by a party of disinterested
people, wLo brougLt tLe same to us for exLibition. And in
tLe tLird place, visions of inonkeys hx tLo various stages of
50 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
frying, stewing, and roasting, came that night and capered
gibberingly around my bed ; and afterwards I was trans-
ported as it were to a lonesome place in the woods, where
was a coffin, and a gang of monkeys solemnly digging a
grave for its disposal ; beneath the open lid of which, too, I
shuddered at beholding the well remembered features of our
toothless cook — and still later in the night I had a third
vision, and another troop of monkeys, — the posteiity, doubt-
less, of these former, — were dancing by moonlight in that
self-same woodland spot, sin^ng mournfully but gleefully a
■well-known Ethiopian melody ; and then I remembered that
Thom lay buried beneath that green sward, and that he was
the " Uncle Ned " of whom they sang as having died in
that melancholy " long, long ago."
During the period that Monsieur Crapolet catered for our
party, I think we eat about a monkey a-piece, besides lizards,
mud turtles, salamanders, water rats, and anaconda steaks ;
nevertheless, we did not complain of our fare. To have
done so Avould have implied a non-fulfilment of the condi-
tion to which we had mutually bound ourselves. Mr. Sam
Weller is recorded as having observed on one occasion that
*' Weal pie was a good thing when you knew that it warn't
made of kittens." On our part we went further, and de-
voured with a keen relish haunches of deer, which we were
morally certain was but a kind of nom de cuisine for alli-
gators' tails.
I must also say, in justice to Monsieur Crapolet and his
subordinate Tom, that other and plainer dishes were often
set before us, and that if we partook of these doubtful viands
it was because we preferred them — the greatest compliment
■which we coijld have paid to the magic of their cookery.
PREPARATIONS FOR A START.
CHAPTER V.
PREPARATIONS FOR A START.
¥E had now been in Chagres some ten days ; tlie camels
were sufficiently refreshed after the fatigues of the voy-
age, to warrant an immediate undertaking of our journey
across the Isthmus. We had taken advice relating to the
best way of proceeding, and had come to the conclusion to
try the land route. AVe were told that there was a good
paved road, lying somewhere on the native side of the river,
and continuing along on the same side till near the neigh-
borhood of Cruces, where the stream was easily forded,
and beyond which it connected with the old road from
Cruces to Panama, which many of my readers have doubt-
less travelled. The great difficulty about this road seemed
"lO be, the finding it. Some put it as commencing away down
at Porto Bello, some as beginning near Navy Bay; and
othei"s were firm in their statements, that it originally started
from Chagres. But all allowed that we should hit it if we
went back far enough into the busli. If there was any road
at all, or any possibility of getting over the ground in this
direction, we thought it preferable to trying the river, as
the boating of our camels as far as Cruces would be a very
expensive and tedious affair.
Accordingly, one fine morning, after a rainy night be it
understood, we shook down and boxed our houses, struck
our tents, pulled up stakes, and packed everything, including
52 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
tlie cooking-stove and fixtures, upon the camels (chameaux,
Monsieur Crapolet used to call thera). We then bade adieu to
the ground of our sojourn, wending our way towards the
town. I do not remember that I looked back upon the spot
at that time, with any particular emotion. The remembrance
of recent annoyances was then fresh, and I presume that the
brisk action of our beasts rather led me to look forward
with pleasant anticijjations, than to an indulgence in senti-
mental regrets. But now, as I write, it is different.
That spot of earth, in its untamed beauty and luxurious-
ness, rises up before me like a picture. Yes, I am back again
by the great seu-side, with the mountain brook not far away,
rushing so passionately yet tenderly to its embrace. Tliere
are the old elms, and the long beach in the foreground, and
the grand sombre mountains in the rear. There is the well
remembered path through the brushwood, leading back to
the Indian Village, and beyond, too, up a high hill, where I
sometimes went with the Major, and from whence we could
discern vessels below our horizon on the beach, bound, on
the one tack, it might be to San Juan, or on the other, to
Porto Bello. Beyond the river rises a steep rocky bluff, at
whose base the waters were always white, whether milky in
pleasant play, or livid with rage. And on the hither side
is a shady nook, formed by willows growing out of the sand,
where the washerwomen, who came from Chagres, were
wont to deposit heaps of clothing, rich with the auriferous
mud of the Yuba or Feather River. I see, too, the deck
timber — fragment of a former wreck, which had been driven
thus far landward, during some strong northerly gale, years
before — now fixed steadfastly under the shade of these
Avillows, upon whose ragged side, as worn, and weather-
beaten, and ragged-looking men, had sometimes come and
Bat, peering over the deep, and blessing the hairy front which
PREP A RATIONS FOR A START. 53
also frowned or smiled upon their native shores. And the
path leading to the town, the path that I daily travelled, in
some places, winding back far into the bush, and again
curving outward, so as to give a full view of the sea ; no
" primrose path," and yet much frequented at tliat time, rich
in mud and slimy spots, but still picturesque from its luxuri-
ant borders of alder, mangrove, and palatuvia, chequered as
they were on either side with towering palms and cocoa-
nut trees, with now a straggling ray of sunshine lingering
momentarily aloft on their dark green branches, and anon a
merry party of rain-drops playfully dancing over them in
their downward tramp. These ai"e some of the features of
the scene.
Nothing remarkable in all this, you will say. Perhaps
not, yet it was something to have the great heaving sea
evermore at one's door, muttering like an old fireside crone
of unfathomable mysteries ; to see it during the long days,
in all its many moods, and feel it so near, that one could
lay liis hand at any moment on its shaggy mane, to watch
it darkening beneath the forecoming shadow of night,
changing then its tales from the glory of proud navies that
liad ridden upon its bosom to the sad fate of manly hearts,
and rosy, smiles, that had sunk and been quenched for ever
in its turbulent depths ; and to wake during the still dark-
ness or no less solemn moonlight, and hear it yet there,
with a more melancholy murmur in its deep voice, as if the
dead everywhere sleeping in its bosom, made restless moan-
ing over their lost years of life.
There was an awful grandeur, too, in the recollection, that
while all other voices of earth had changed or passed away,
this world-reverberating music of the sea had been sounding
on evermore the same from the creation ; like a deep
eternal undertone, stirring the soul in its profoundest depths.
64 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
Truly us well as be auli fully, has Eogland's woman poet
suug : —
" Tiie Doriau flute that sighed of yore,
Along tliy wave is still,
The harp of Judah peals no more.
On Zion's awful hill.
" And mute the Moorish liorn tliat rang
O'er stream and mountain free,
And the hymn the leagued crusader sang,
Hath died in Galilee.
" But thou art swelling on, thou deep.
Through many an olden clime,
Thy billowy anthem ne'er to sleep,
Until the close of time."
A.nd it was something to know, that on the other hand
were the hills, whos^e fastnesses man liad not penetrated,
but within whose deep rich glens, and dark shadowy jun-
gles, masses of animal life were revelling and rejoicing,
although to our dull sense they rose up silent, solitary, and
forbidding — evergreen liills, upon whose summits or slop-
ing sides no snow or ice liad ever lain, but where vegetation
bloomed and died and bloomed again, and presented always
the same perennial front of verdure. It was curious to see
how steadfastly but vainly the ocean kept sending its pha-
lanxes of waves to overrun this green domain, and how some-
times the salt from its spray would lodge upon the branches
of trees far up the hill sides, and their green leaves and
clinging mosses would droop as if poisoned ; and then to
see a friendly power rush out from its ambush in the skies —
no less than an army of rain-drops, which would do their
woik so thoroughly, in purifying and cleaning these delicate
PREPARATIONS J'OR A START. 55
dresses of the wood, that each shrub and bush and dark
old tree looked all the fi-esher and more sparkling in the
next ray of sunshine which came thither. This water from
heaven, in its kindly mission, found its way into the very
thickest of the glade, and it was no uncommon thing to see
masses of vapor in the early dawn which we might consider
as its disembodied spirit, hovering about these green declivi-
ties, and gradually soaring heavenward. But why refer to
all this — well enough in a poet, which I am not, or a child,
which I can never be again : only to show the free and
intense style of life which we then led. Because in the
breaking up and absence of conventional forms we had
seemed to get back nearer to the old mother nature, and lay
as it were more tranquilly on her bosom. Our insignificant
bodies dwindled as the face of the old mother grew warm,
distinct, and loving. What if infection pervaded the air
we breathed. Did we not, on that account, feel a kindlier
interest in the stars, and the blue arch, and yet love the
cheery earth none the less ? / Can a man evade death by
being a coward ; and where can he die so well as where
sympathies from the infinite heart of the world seem to be
drawing him thitherward ? '
Often since, when 'stifling in close streets, with the faces
of ungenial men hemming me in, or stalled, as it were, in a
set form of daily life, a stupid routine of dull duties, have I
looked back upon these wild scenes with an inward chafen-
ing and pining to be away. It has seemed as if I would
give weeks, aye months, of this dull life for a few hours of
that.
It has been objected to adventure, that it unfits one for
the sober pursuits of life ; but who on this account would
shut his eyes to the picture of loveliness which the great
Father, every morning and evening, unrolls afresh ? and
56 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
how can he so well see and feel all its wonderful delicacy
and eternal beauty, as by shaking oft" his native sluggishness,
and going out in simplicity of heart and habits, to sojourn
amid new and unaccustomed scenes ? lie is, indeed, a /
pitiful object to contemplate who can live amid the grand,
and beautiful, and heroic, either in the natural or moral
world, and be none the better for it.
"Eut tills we iVoin ttie mountains learn,
And this the valleys show,
That never will they deign to hold
Communion where the heart is cold.
To Ininian weal and woe.
"The man of al-joct soiil in vain
Shall walk the Marathonian plain.
Or thread the shadowy gloom,
That still infests the guardian pass.
Where stood sublime Leonidas,
Devoted to the tomb."
v' There was no lack of lieroism in the character of these
: "sturdy, on-pushing gold-hunters ; there was grandeur in the
' unrivalled hardships which they voluntarily endured i^ this
stage of their experience, and sublimity in some of the
attending circumstances, for daily at Chagres heaven's
artillery thundered forth its salvos, and nightly its lightning
flashes were the literal lamp of the voyagers mounting or
descending the i-iver.
" Something too much of this." To go on then with n)y
story : On reaching the point we found the few friends who
were to come into our party, ready and waiting to receive
us. Among these were Messrs. Vale and Parkins, the former
of whom had decided, <^)n the whole, that " the camel busi-
ness was the best thing going,'' and had fully made up his
PREPARATIONS FOR A START. 67
mind to stick to it, until something better shoukl present
itself. This volatile gentleman was seated in the centre of a
heap of baggage, and liis conspicuous position would, doubt-
less, have helped to set off his native advantages, had he not
been doubled up like Wordsworth's , book-worm. In fact,
he was just then engaged in opening a liquor-case contain-
ing several descriptions of cordials, besides gin, brandy, and
old Jamaica. After drawing forth a couple of bottles suc-
cessively, holding them towards the sun, and taking a small
sip of each, he returned them to his case with a dissatisfied
air, and at length produced a third, the color and taste of
which seemed to suit. He first threw his head backward,
with a jerk, then gave three or four twists of his wiry neck,
as many stretchings of his lengthy arms, and at last cleared
his throat with a hem or two preparatory to a generous
draught All thiS time Parkins stood by, looking on with
a countenance in which disappointment, contempt, and anger
were curiously mingled. Wlien Vale raised the bottle to his
lips with the deliberation of a man about to take a final pull,
Parkins could restrain himself no longer ; bending forward
slightlj to get into a posture which enabled his hand to
reach the coveted flask, he struck it such a well aimed blow
as sent the liquor into the nose and eyes, as well as stomach
of the thirsty Vale, and then grabbing it as it fell, he, Par-
kins, ste[iped nimbly beyond the reach of his companion's
sledge-hammer arm.
But the latter was in no wise disconcerted by the abrupt
termination of his enjoyment. Rising up, he cast a mildly
reproving glance at the retreating foe.
" Solomon," said he, in an aflfectionate tone, " how often
shall I have to caution you against indulging in this love of
strong drink !"
"Just hear him !" said Parkins, who had fortified himself
3*
58 LIFE OA THF. I.STHMUS.
with no homoeopathic dose, " he never drinks ; oh, no, he tastes ;
except of course, gentlemen, when he has the bilious colic,
and that's a complaint he's pretty generally troubled with."
'J'he camels were kneeling, and we had left our seats to
superintend the packing of our companions' baggage.
" Whose is all this ?" said I, pointing to the heap of
trunks, boxes, bags, etcetera, in the vicinity of Vale, " a
formidable lot truly."
" That is some of mine," replied Vale, nowise abashed at
tlie implied tenor of my interrogatory, " the rest of it is com-
ing ; I have got two natives in my employ since an hour, and
nearly half of it is along already !"
" But it is not possible, my dear sir, that you have twice
as much baggage as we see here ; why, you have already
a load for two camels."
" I told him repeatedly," observed ' Parkins, coming for-
ward, " that he would never get it across."
" It is even so, nevertheless,'' reiterated tlie senior partner,
'•and I do not see that I can well spare anything; but let it
be as you say, gentlemen, in that matter."
" What is to be done ?" inquired the Major, for it was cer-
tainly out of the (question to think of lumbering our camels
up with this mass of things.
"Sell the superfluous at auction," said Tom, with the
ready wit for which he was remarkable.
" Parbleu !" said Monsieur Crapolet, " Je n'ai pas trop —
he can well divide with me."
Monsieur Crapolet spoke truly, for the heart of the gene-
rous Frenchman was his greatest possession. In point of
worldly goods he had but his fowling-piece and ammunition,
the contents of his basket, and Thom's pagara, whatever the
latter might have been. But as his proposition did not seem
to meet exactly the merits of the case, it was unanimously
PREPARATIOSS FOR A START. 59
voted that Tom's plan be adopted, and furthermore, that he
should officiate as auctioneer.
^\Tien this decision was officially announced, Monsieur
Crapolet produced a tin horn from the pagara of Thorn, with
which he proposed to call the amateurs together musically,
on condition of his being allowed two drinks to our one.
Vale, who had seemed by his looks to rather demur to the
first proposition of Tom, looked even blanker at this second
one of Crapolet, but it was carried notwithstanding, without
a dissenting voice.
The first case opened, happened to contain books, and the
first book taken out was Bowditch's Navigator.
" Here it is," shouted Tom, " a book which ought to be
found in every well regulated family ; contains particular di-
rections about crossing the Isthmus, also how to make salt
water out of fresh (sailors I mean, of course.) — Let's see ;
here is the title page — ' Bowditch's Navigator, Mercator Sail-
ing, short cut from Cruces to Panama,' &c., &c., — lunar ob-
servations, world without end — how much is ofiered for
Nathaniel !"
. If my memory serves me right, " Nathaniel " was pur-
chased by a swarthy native, who had evidently been
pleasantly excited by the allusion to Cruces and Panama,
for the sum of three dollars. The performances of Monsieur
Crapolet upon the tin horn had been eminently successful.
A crowd speedily collected about Tom and his wares, and
the book sales went on briskly.
" The next work on the catalogue," said the auctioneer, " is
this splendidly bound edition of Byron, with a life by Bulwer,
as the Ethiopian poet says, no less beautifully than truly :
" Oh, Bulwer he wrote William Tell,
And Spokesheare wrote Oteller,
Lord Byron, he wrote weiy well,
But Dickens — he wrote Weller!"
60 LIPE ON THE ISTHMUS.
" How much for this splendid edition of Byron ?"
" Bee-rong ! " shouted Monsieur Crapolet correctively.
" C'est bien drole que les Anglais ne peuvent jamais ap-
prendre a prononcer meme les noms de leurs poetes les plus
distingues."
It is proper here to observe that Sampson Vale had up to
this time been attentively Avatching the movements of the
auctioneer, and had not remarked that Thom, at the instiga-
tion of his master, had removed the liquor-case from his
side, and deposited it carefully within reach of Monsieur
Crapolet. But this gratuitous observation of the latter had
drawn our attention towards him, and to the great horror of
Vale, there he v>'as, this victim of a broken heart, reclining
cosily Tipon a sea chest, with a brandy tlask in- one hand and
a "petit verre" in the other, a perfect Jupiter of good hu-
mor and conviviality in the midst of his attendant gods,
to whom Thom, with a second flask and " petit verre," offi-
ciated in the character of a venerable Ganymede. Strange
to say, I noticed Parkins in this group of celestials.
While the Major was superintending the packing of the
camels, I strolled up to the " Empire City," partly to get &
fresh box of " Wandering Jews," and partly to say good-bye
to its brave voung landlord.
Vitti was in the dining-room of his hotel, seated at table
ii) company with two others, card-playing. One of his com-
panions was the French nobleman. Count de G . I sup-
pose the Count had been a winner at the time I entered, for
on seeing me, he rose and proposed breaking off the game.
This Vitti passionately refused to do, saying that he had
lost everything but his hotel and land, and was determined
to risk that for Avhat it was worth. They played one more
round, and Vitti was a poor man with not a cent in the
world.
PREPARATIONS FOR A START. 01
" Gentlemen," said he, rising, and looking steadily at the
Count, " I am ruined ; but it was fairly done. You may
consider me as your guest till I can find business."
" Nay," said the Count ; " my dear Angelo, this must not
be. Keep your house and lands ; I do not need them. But
for your generous aid my heirs would have been ere long in
possession of my property, and you had retained yours."
" I scorn to receive pay," replied Vitti, " for doing what I
should have been a wretch to have left undone. Neverthe-
less, for my sister's sake, I will continue here awhile as your
agent, till I can repay you for your advances."
. .".Let it be for your sister's sake, then," said the Count.
The third party present, whom I recognised as the owner
of the snake which had bitten Vale, smiled darkly at this
arrangement, as if he saw something infernal in the transac-
tion, which pleased him on that account.
" Vitti," said I, as I shook him by the hand on leaving,
" this is a wild, lawless country. The only rule of action here,
as you well know, is the barbaric one that ' might makes
right.' We can't tell what may happen ; but if any
trouble comes to you, remember that, for one, I am your
friend."
" It's not for myself," replied Vitti earnestly, "that I appre-
hend anything, at least anything more than my deserts. I
am but a reckless vagabond at the best ; my whole life has
been a miserable mistake, and it's too late to try to correct
it, even if I knew where to begin. But with my sister it is
very different ; she is as pure and stainless as a little child.
Now, whilst I live, I can protect her to the extent of my life.
But if anything should happen to me — you know what I
would say, sir."
" I understand you," said I, " and you may be certain that
it shall be as you desire ; only let me beg of you to be care-
62 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
ful of your w urds and actions for her sake, and not recklessly
peril a life which has so nnicli depending on it."
Vitti wiped the tears from his eyes with one hand as he
shook mine nervously with the other ; and so we parted. On
reaching the point again, I found tte auction terminated,
and several new features introduced upon the face of things.
LA RUVTE. 63
CHAPTER Vr.
EN ROUTE.
EVERYTHING was now in order ibr Ji start. Tbo ohuk'Is
were packed, and the barges wliich were to transport
tlieni and us across the river were in readiness at the levee.
This being the case, I was somewhat surprised to see the
lieaps of baggage belonging to Messrs. Vale and Parkins
lying still upon the sand, and the camels destined for their
accommodation freighted with other packages. It, at .first,
occurred to me that the former of these two gentlemen had
become dissatisfied at the summary manner in which Tom was-
disposing of his mental food, or the not less summary dis-
position of his creature comforts by Monsieur Crapolet. I
was, therefore, even more surprised to notice upon a second
glance the tall figure of Signor Vale, a little apart from the
group it is true, but surveying them with a loving and bene-
volent glow upon his face, and a certain fire in his eye,
which flickered brilliantly as it roamed over the entire scene,
the while his lips smacked approvingly in token of a most
portentous inward satisfaction.
" My dear Vale," said I, approaching him, a little too
abruptly perhaps, considering his exalted mood of mind ; for
I had really come to feel a liking for this curious man. " I
trust that we are not to lose the pleasure of your company
in our journey across the Isthmus."
" Pretty good !" observed Parkins, who, with a singular
64 LIFE OX THE ISTHMUS.
perverseness of mind, evidently understood me as speaking
satirically.
" Ah," said Vale, coming to himself, and calling in his
wandering fancies with a jerk as it were. " Yes, yes, you
speak truly. I shall not be of your party across the
Isthmus. Are you aware, sir. that since you left us, but a
moment ago, sir, in j.oiUl ui June, a great idea has come
to me?"
" Quanto Valley," said Parkins, more savagely than the
occasion, seeined to warrant, " has had great ideas enough
in his lifetime to have ruined the whole world."
" Solomon," returned his companion aflectionately, " let
me entreat of you not to parade thus the superficial charac-
ter of your mind."
" As I was about to observe, it has occurred to me
in looking over this sandy patch, seeing it in its present
state, and reflecting upon its capabilities, that there are great
things to be done here. The trouble thus far has been, I
opine, the want of a head, one great directing power to see
its wants, and with brains sufficient to devise ways and
means to meet them."
" Say rather a heart," said a young man who had just
joined us ; " a great heart teeming with affection, a heart
large enough to embrace all these weary people in the folds
of its love. Let such a heart make its abode here, seeking
nothing, thinking nothing, knowing nothing but the good
and liappiness of all around it; and do you not think that a
bright radiance would go out thence, which would beau-
tify this place even a« thoroughly as it would purify it?
Now you, sir, were no doubt thinking of draining these
marshes, of establishing sanitary regulations, of laying out
streets, of founding a liospital."
" Quite right, sir. You see that mountain but little over
EN ROUTE. 65
a mile distant. ^^hy we eoiild lay u strap rail from thence
to the point, put on our dirt cars, and vvitli a few mules, we
would bring this whole township high and dry on a beauti-
ful slope. We should in the first place lay alongside of the
alcaide and priest, secure a grant, then "
" Lay alongside of the padre first, get his good graces,
and I'll guarantee the rest of the jockeys."
This latter observation proceeded from one of the two
gentlemen, who, at that moment, had joined our group in
company with Tom. The speaker, whom Tom announced
as Judge Smithers, was a large robust man of florid com-
plexion, short square whiskers, blue eyes, a broad head, large
nose, and a mouth in which good practical common sense
seemed to well up as it were spontaneously. This was the
most remarkable thing about the man. He always seemed
to have the very item of information or suggestion that was
needed rolling upon his tongue, like a choice tit-bit, and had
only to open his mouth for it to roll out.
His companion was presented as Colonel Allen, of Mis-
souri. He was not so large a man as the judge, and had a
staring kind of face, very red as if from hard drinking. His
eyes were large, wide open, and considerably bloodshot ; and
his mouth, which was also large, was in like manner gene-
rally extended beyond its natural limits by an inveterate
habit of grinning, wliich he had probably fallen into when
quite young.
" These two gentlemen, and this third, Mr. Arthur Orring-
ton," said Tom, with a bow towards the young man, to
whom I have already alluded, as having objected in a
measure to one of Vale's great ideas, " are to join us ; and
their baggage is already packed in lieu of that of these
renegades here, Vale and Parkins. But I am not the boy
to interrupt a pleasant story. Pray go on, Mr. ^ ale."
66 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
*' I was saying," continued Vale, " when you came up, that
there was a great chance for improvement here."
" I guess you hit it there," said the judge, who, as Tom
subsequently informed me, was not exactly a judge in point
of law, but was a great judge of horseflesh, and had run the
first line of stages from Vera Cruz to the city of Mexico.
" The subscriber is ready to make affidavit to that effect,"
added the Colonel. This gentleman I afterwards learned
was a printer by profession, and from his invariably alluding
to himself as " the subscriber," am inclined to think that
he had been mostly employed in the advertising depart-
ment.
" Go on," said Parkins, anxious for his friend to arrive
at a point where so great unanimity would not probably
prevail.
" And, as I was going to say, that having filled up this
back marsh here and secured our grant, we should proceed
to survey and stake off lots, lay out streets, and in short
make a regular land company aftair of it. Then we should
build a breakwater along here, from the point out, leaving a
space between that and the opposite coast suitable for a good
ship channel, which we should keep of sufficient depth by
steam-scows — if necessary, spile the levee."
" Hold on, old boy," exclaimed the Colonel, " and allow
the subscriber to observe, that, in his humble opinion, the
levee here bears altogether too great a similarity to a
decayed egg to lie in any possibility of spiling."
" Well done, Allen," retorted Judge Smithers, " for a San
Francisco editor you are, certainly, wonderfully erudite. By
spiling the levee, the hombre refers to driving spiles or stout
sticks of timber along its banks to prevent caving. Where
the ' dosh' is to come from to carry out this idea does not
appear as yet, — but doubtless will."
EN ROUTE. G7
" From New England, Sir, my uutive jjlace,'' said V^ale
majestically.
" Whew !" said the Colonel, snapping his fingers, as if
they were either burnt or tingled with cold.
The judge said nothing, but contented himself with hum-
ming a fragment of an old song, familiar to our childhood*
beginning :
" Wlien I was a little boy, I lived by myself,
All the bread and clieese I got, I put upon the snelf."
"I wish you joy of your mission," said Toic, '• and hope
you'll stick to it."
" You may bet high on that," concluded Parkins ; " oh,
yes, he'll stick to it like cobbler's wax to an ile-stone."
It was now time to be off. The bright sun was shining; in
a clear sky, and it was deemed expedient to take advantage
of so unusual a state of things. We left Vale still under the
exhilarating influence of his new idea, with Parkins buzzing
his monotonous undertone of discouragement under his very
nose. Perhaps after all, if our enthusiast had not had this
outward, palpable drag upon him, his own nature might
have furnished it inwardly ; and so with harsh imaginings of
possible difhculties and objections, have crushed and stifled
its gossamer thread of life, whereas the estimation in which
he lield tlie mental cluiracter of his associate, rendered him
quite regai'dless of his opinions.
I could not help observing, in the person of our new com-
rade, Colonel Allen, a remarkably reckless style of dressing
and conducting himself. Wheiher I should have paid any
particular heed to this at that time, I do not know, had it
not formed so striking a contrast to the costume and de-
portment of Mr. Arthur Orrington. The latter gentleman
had « mild, pale countenance, with a touchingly benevolent
G8 LIFE ON 711 E ISTHMiS.
expression, and a soft, alTectionate eye. He looked like .a
man who had no business among- the liard, rude, selfish
things of life. His dress was scrupulously neat, and severelv
correct, in point of taste ; so simple in fact as to suggest the
idea of a ministerial cliaraoter in the wearer. You would
have known at once upon seeing liim, that he had a tixed
and certain character of his own, that was made to set its
mark somewhere, perhaps gently, even timidly, hut none the
less firmly and durably for that.
Now the Colonel was got up in altogether another style.
He -had evidently been battered about the world, and was
considerably the shabbier for it. It might have been that
some great wrong done to him when young had broken his
manly spirit, and made him careless of what fortune might
have left for him among her stores ; or, it might have been
that he never had any particular character at all, and had
fallen into rowdyism, as being the most easy and natuial
thing to do. He was one of those men who appear always
ready for whatever the moment ofters, the more outre and
bizarre the occupation, the better ; an entire contempt of
anything bordering on etiquette or formality, and a perfect
freedom from bashfulness or fear, were his prominent cha-
racteristics. He was attired in a seedy bjack dress-coat, with
coai-se grey trowsers, a blue cloth vest ornamented with brass
buttons, stout cow-hide boots, and a hat far gone in dilapi-
dation. It was this crowning head-piece which gave the
final touch to his faded and shabby (out ensemble, although,
from the appearance of his nether garments, one might
reasonably liave doubted whether he were on liis last legs, or
merely in his last ))air of trowsers. Colonel Allen was, in
.short, the beau ideal of that numerous class, known as "people
not well to do in the world," or " men who have seen better
days.'' How many of this class do we daily meet, and how
EN ROUTE. 69
few like Arthur Orrington ; for the world is full of blight,
and ruin, and decay ; and modesty, charity, and unselfish-
ness are the flowers which grow rarely among its noisome
weeds.
"We got our camels into the barges, and were seating
ourselves to be ready for a start, but Monsieur Crapolet
insisted upon Thorn's serving out one additional drink. It
is, peihaps, hardly fair in me to expose the fact, that our
dejected Frenchman and his friends had already drunk the
contents of five of the flasks in Vale's liquor-case, leaving but
the sixth, which was now to be sacrificed upon the same altar
of conviviality. It was a small square flask — as Thorn
poured the liquor into the quaintly-cut tiny glasses, it glis-
tened and shone in the bright sunlight with a ruby-like
sparkle. The rough conclave, whom the doubly bereaved
lover had gathered about him, received each, his allotted
part with a reverential air, except, indeed, our unterrified
Colonel from Missouri.
" An extra tot of grog," said he, as Thom handed him his
glass, at the same time drawing one hand from his trowsers'
pocket, and ejecting from his stained and reeking mouth a
huge quid of tobacco ; " the subscriber is open to conviction
as to the quality of the liquor."
" It's some kind of French cordial," observed the Judge ; '' it
takes the French to mystify us in the stomachic department."
"Nothing horizontal about it?" inquired the Colonel.
" I trust not, for your sake," replied the Judge.
" Messieurs," began Monsieur Crapolet, and there was a
deep silence while he spoke ; " c'est ' le Parfait Amour.'
Whosoever drinks of this cordial finds therein a balm for a
broken heart, for it begets within us a love for all the world.
It causes us to forget the weariness of life, and helps us witk
a kindlv arm towards our final resling-plaoe."
'?0 LIFE ON THE fS Til MLS.
" Fact," murmured the Colonel, approvingly, with the so-
lemnity of a man listening to a religious discourse.
" Messieurs, nous allons boire a la sante de tout le monde.
Yes, gentlemen, this is the distillation of that evanescent
spirit of love, which drifts so erratically about the world.
Thom, you old villain, fill these gentlemen's glasses again."
Again the liquor, with a glow like that which sometimes
hangs faint, yet ruddy, upon Italian clouds at sunset, trickled
forth into the stinted glasses, and again Monsieur Crapolet
resumed his discourse. It was to be the last drink, for the
flask was empty ere the twelfth glass was quite full, and his
remarks in consequence took a more melancholy cast.
" Monsieur, je suis nn ours, un miserable ours ; you will
forgive me that I am so dull and imsociable, for I am very
txnhappy."
In order that the reader may the better understand the
full force, beauty, and effect of these last remarks of Mon-
sieur Crapolet, it will be well for him to picture that gentle-
man, as he then appeared in a posture that would have been
recumbent, but for the protecting arms of Thom, with his
lower jaw slightly inclined to droop, his eyes now roaming
tenderly over the crowd, now cast upwards to Thom's vene-
rable visage, with an expression equalled only in the last
agonies of an expiring grimalkin.
" Aye, gentlemen, there is no future for me but what is
clouded by the remembrances of the past ; there is no peace
but in the grave. Hold on, Thom, you scoundrel. Gentle-
men, had I married Virginie — ou bien Mathilde — gently,
Thom — I shouldn't have been the miserable outcast that you
see before you. If it wasn't for Thom here — aye, good Thom
— I should be alone in the world. But Thom — aye, yes,
Thom — good Thom — kiss me, Thom ; one more drink a la
sante de — Thom."
L\V ROl'TE. 71
And with these words lingering upon his tongue, Monsieur
Crapolet was got into the boat, and we at length started en
route for the native side of Chagres,
Disembarking there, we engaged a small boy, a lithe, long-
limbed, straight-haired, Indian-looking little fellow, who
came well recommended, to accompany us in the character
of guide ; after which negotiation, we selected our places
upon the camels, and were speedily rocking through the old
paved street, and past the wretched bamboo huts upon
whose front the religion of the country, expressed in the
never-faihng motto of " poco tiempo," is written in unmis-
takable hieroglyphics. IJXJL.IaA^^^ /an^ ^^^'
12 LIFE OS Tffi: ISTHMUS.
CHAPTER VII.
A TRAMP IN THE WOODS.
LEAVING the filthy and ruinous hamlet in our rear, we
crossed the brook which divides it from the dense forests
and scrubby hills on the north. We cast a last glance at the
sea upon our left hand, " spitting in the face of heaven,"
where its incomings were stayed by the brown old rocks of ,
San Lorenzo, and turned our heads resolutely towards the
wilderness of verdure, whose secret chambers we were about
to penetrate unbidden.
Why not ? What good reason is there to hesitate ? Be-
cause the shadows congregate there, are we on that account
to imagine Irobgoblins and such dire personages as haunting
the spot ? Or do we fear the known and possible dangers !
Nonsense ! Man goes " down to the sea in ships," and tra-
verses the barren desert, and why should he shrink from the
jungle of the dark forest? What is the earth, the whole of •
it, but the play-ground or the vineyard which our Father has
made for the labors and recreation of his children, and there
is no bound set beyond which we may not pass. Even if \
the worst comes, and we are mortally injured by our daring, i
are we not taken to our Father's house, where our wounds ^
shall be healed for ever ? Come on, then.
On quitting the clean hills in the vicinity of the fort, our
road at first lay through a dense portion of balata and other
timber, where there was but little undergrowth. Here we
made good trav<>Hiug. The soil was firm, and the passage
A TRAMP IN THE WOODS. 73
amongst the trees of ample width to permit our animals to
pass with- ease. The tall monarchs of the forest shook their
evergreen leaves, amid which the wind and birds made
music pleasantly above our heads, distilling thence a refresh-
ing coolness ; while beneath our feet the broad flakes of sun-
light which lay scattered in irregular little clusters, made the
earth to resemble a rich carpet quaintly chequered with
green and gold. It was quite inspiriting to journey through
a country where nature wore so genial and vigorous a front.
It is true that we were sometimes reminded of the inevitable
lot of all things earthly, by coming suddenly upon the trunk
of an old tree, which had fallen from extreme age, perhaps,
years before, and which the great ants of the Tropics were
carrying ofi" piecemeal, staggering along in Indian file under
their load of rotten timber. And sometimes, too, but not
often, a decayed and broken branch hung down directly
across our pathway, forcing the camels very unwillingly from
their straightforward path. If there is an animal to be
admired for his undeviating perseverance in what he is
pleased to consider his road of duty, it is certainly the camel.
Taking it for granted that he is right, he follows up the
balance of David Crockett's motto, and goes ahead with an
unflinching exactitude. There is something majestic in the
way in which he ignores obstacles ; which, be it noted never-
theless, are at times more disastrous to his rider than to his
own yielding, but thick-laid hide.
Now it happened that after entering this wooded tract,
some of us had dismounted, and were making our way on
foot, and it further happened that Judge Sraithers and I found
ourselves promenading together alongside of the camel which
bore the Major and his wife. Behind him rode the disconso-
late Monsieur Crapolet, with his faithful boy Thom, marching
squire-like at his side. The Major being very tall and straight,
4
•74 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
had had one or two narrow escapes of his bair from the low-
hanging branches beneath which we were travelHng. At
length he dropped off and joined our pedestrian party.
" I began to feel," said he, " as if my father's prediction
was about to be realized, and tliat I should indeed live to be
hung — but it would have been like Absalom — by the hair."
As the ]\Iajor spoke, the melody of Monsieur Crapoiet's
horn, on which instrument of tin that unhappy but tuneful
" ours " had been performing some extra shakes for our edi-
fication, suddenly ceased, and a fiercely uttered " sacre !" in
its stead, drew our attention towards the performer. He
was in rather a laughable predicament. It appeared that in
the satisfaction which he had experienced in the execution of
a remarkably successful shake, he had been led immediately
afterwards into a triumphant flourish of the instrument itself,
and that, reaching his arm at too great a length about his
head, it had become entangled in the branches of a tree.
Now the camel on which he rode, finding that his rider was
in trouble, kn<:lt, according to custom in such cases, leaving
our cjuondara musician hanging — not like Absalom, for, alas,
Monsieur Crapolet, as already described, was bald — but in
precisely the style in which you often see a sloth clinging,
"by the day together, with one of his fore legs twisted round
an over-hanging limb ; and with somewhat of the distin-
guished grace with which the sloth falls, when the same limb
is severely shaken, did our fellow-voyager tumble to the
ground. One v/ould have thought, from his plump figure,
that he would have rebounded at the touch like a ball of
India-rubber ; but if the truth must be confessed, Monsieur
Crapoiet's corporeal frame was at that moinent so thorough-
ly saturated with Maraschino, "petit lait," and " le Parfait
Amour," that he fell flat and heavy as a moist sponge.
" Liquor is down," observed Colonel Allen, with what I
A TRAMP IN THE WOODS. 1o
believe is termed a liorse-laugli, '• now then, stranger, give
us some of the low notes."
" It's the old destiny," said the Major, " a man can't be
generous and rise to any height of gaiety without suffering
afterwards a corresponding relapse. Eve's generosity was
the cause of Adam's fall."
"The Major is certainly very clear-headed, and apropos
with his biblical ideas," remarked Tom.
" He goes right to the core of things," said the Colonel, with
a pleasant smile,
" My opinion is," said the Judge, " that something stronger
than cider is at the bottom of this. I don't recollect to have
ever met a walking demijohn capable of holding a greater
quantity of the stuff."
The unfortunate subject of these remarks was now upon
his legs again, thanks to the kind attentions of Thorn, and
able to answer for himself.
" Gentlemen," said he, as he scramliled back upon his
camel, " such is life ; to-day we are in the empyrean of pros-
perity, to-morrow — "
" Floored," suggested Colonel Allen.
" Exactemeut ; as the English Lord 13oir-le-grog used to
say when iu Paris."
" Not l>olingbroke ?" quei-ieJ the Judge.
'* Bolingbroke or Boir-le-grog, f'a m'est egal — as this famoas
English lord used to say."
" Excuse my laughing," interrupted Tom, " but really I
could not help it, such a droll figure as you cut, sir, hanging
to that tree, a martyr to the love of music."
" A man with a horn too much," said the Colonel.
"And then afterwards," continued Tom, "as you lay
sprawling upon the ground ; oh, it was excellent. If
Virginie could have seen you in that position, how she
would have pitied von. poor girl."
76 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
" Young man," returned the discarded lover, with a mock
serious, sentimental air, " you jiever said a truer thing. It is
when in adverse circumstances, that woman loves man best.
The great trouble with me has always been that I have been
too fortunate in life. Now when I returned to France from
Guiana, I had none of the fascinating, bilious hue of the
Tropics. Parbleu, I was as fresh and rosy as if I had been
leading a gay life among the salons and cafes of Paris. If
I had come back, for instance, subject to the fever and ague,
and required constant nursing, or showed in my debilitated
frame the weakening effects of the Torrid zone, I think I
can safely predict who would have been the husband of
Virginie, or at all events Mathilde."
" But you said that they were both married at the
time."
"True," said Monsieur Crapolet, "I forgot that."
We were nearly out of the timber, as it appeared, and
a few paces further on we came into a more open space,
through which a stream from the mountains was flowng.
We had been gradually ]-ising, as we got over the ground,
and now found ourselves upon the brow of a hill, which fell
off precipitously before us. It was evident that we had
missed the ordinarily travelled patli, for we saw at a distance
of more than half a mile below us on the river, a number of
native women and children, engaged in washing and spread-
ing clothes. I am uncertain M-hich would have made the
pleasantest and most striking picture — those dark-skinned
half-naked native women, scattered along the banks or squat-
ting upon the rocks, in the very centre of the swift running
stream, with tlae -sun-light falling aslant just over their
heads, and flooding the opposite hill-side with a golden radi-
ance, leaving their not ungraceful figures clearly defined in
the rich deep shade ; engaged in an occupation, homely if
you will, but made dignifi<^d and cliarmin£j in such a visible
A TRAMP IN THE WOODS. 77
presence of scenic graiideiir — or ourselves pausing for a moment
on the abrupt brow of the tall acclivity, with the great old
trees waving above our heads ; our foreign animals and ap-
pliances about us, an oriental grouping displayed amid the
wild luxuriance of western nature.
" The question now arises," remarked Judge Smithers, tak-
ing a bird's-eye view of our isolated position, " as to what we
are to do next ; so far, our young scapegrace of a guide seems
to have had it all his own way."
■ •. . " There appears to be a down-hill course before us," said
^- the Colonel, " and the subscriber takes occasion to say that
K he has never found any difficulty in that."
^ ' Our little imp of a guide wasnot at all disposed to own
nJ up to any deficiency on his ,part, but kept pointing
^ earnestly to the other side of the ravine, and calling out,
o\v " Bueno camino, bueno camino !" This little wretch was
certainly the beau-ideal of a young vagabond, as he capered
so grotesquely yet airily in our van, cutting wantonly with
his long cane-knife at everything within reach, and bursting
out every two or three minutes into some wild or jilaintive
snatch of song. His costume, if not quite complete, was yet
partially good in particulars wherein Thorn's was entirely
deficient. It consisted of a bruised and broken hat of
plaited straw, and a blue and white striped calico shirt,
leaving his lower limbs at full liberty to perform any
gymnastic flourishes which might occur to him.
" Bueno camino, on the other side of the river, is it ?"
said Colonel Allen, " but how in the dragon's name are we
to get there, eh ?"
The boy began capering along downward towards where
we saw the native women at work, and beckoned us to follow.
We were not long in coming to a kind of natural stair-
case, down which our sure-footed beasts carried us with ease,
19 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
and arriving safely on the fii'm level bank of the stream, we
decided upon a halt for lunch. It was a charming spot,
cool, shady, with a clean sandy floor, and delicious water
bubbling and flowing alongside. A delightful spot to
be in, and easy of access on the one hand, but how were we
ever to penetrate the bristling wilderness which frowned
down upon us from the other ?
Lunch over, it was proposed by Judge Smithers tliat two
or three of us, accompanied by our experienced guide, should
set out on a reconnoitring expedition in search of a conti-
nuation of the road. For all the signs we then saw, it
looked far more encouraging for Mr. Vale's " Anaconda line
across the Isthmus," than for our less fleet and more cum-
bersome offspring of the desert. So solemn and determined
Avas the close arrayed front of forest verdure we were to
break in upon, that we experienced a presentiment even
before setting out, to the effect that we should have our
labor for our pains ; and accordingly set our Moors to work
in unpacking the camels and pitching the tents preparatory
to the night's bivouac.
The reconnoitring party consisted of Judge Smithers,
Colonel Allen, and myself, for our model guide frisked about
on his own hook, and I have no question that if the truth
were known, we should find that the little villain had been
all along diverting himself extremely with our bewilderment.
He would plunge at times into the bushes on our right as
we travelled down the river's bank, and writhe himself out
again a short distance in advance of us, with a delighted
glitter in his devilish, bright eyes, exclaiming, " Camino no
es bueno," and again skipping on ahead. At length he
seemed to have actually made a discovery, for he waited our
approach with a satisfied air, pointing his skinny arm
"owards the forest, and shouting, " bueno camino." And
A TRAMP IN THE WOODS. 79
sure enough, there was a bit of a clearing where he stood, a
kind of Spanish mule path — upon which we judged it
as well upon the whole to enter. It led through rank grow-
ing thickets, up steep piles, as it were, of slippery clay, and
down suddenly into ugly-looking if not dangerous gullies.
Notwithstanding the profusion of undergrowth, there was no
scarcity of the larger trees, with branches and foliage so
intersected as to shut out the sunshine as with an impenetrable
veil. It seemed from the little puddles which we met at
every few paces, that the clayey soil was of such toughness
as to hold water for a great length of time, for no rain had
fallen since we set out. However, we kept on, staggering,
sliding, climbing over the ground, beneath this lowering
canopy of green, more from a repugnance which we felt to
turning back, than from any faint hope of the road improv-
ing sufficiently to warrant our entering upon it with the
camels. Our soi-disant guide had disappeared.
There was some little amusement, of rather a doubtful
kind nevertheless, to he derived from a contemplation of our
several bespattered persons and rueful faces. As we picked
our way along, stepping into the holes in the path to insure
a footing, the muddy water would sometimes spirt upwards
to our full height, plentifully baptizing us after the manner
of this world. For once in his life, Colonel Allen, of
Missouri, so far as his personal appearance went at all events^
was pretty much on a par with his associates. But even
then, relentless fate was preparing a more thorough bap-
tism, which should restore him to his quondam unenviable
position.
The Colonel was the leader of our party, and had now
succeeded in scrambling, somewhat crab-like, to the very
summit of a particularly slippery eminence. Without stop-
ping to take breath, he commenced the descent, and disap-
80 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
peared from our sight as suddenly as if the earth had
swallowed him. The next instant we heard a shout, far, far
below us, on the other side, and the idea immediately
occurred to us that the Colonel had lost his footing, and
gone to the bottom by the run. And so it was ; for on our
reaching the top, and looking down, there he was, sure
enough, buried in a swamp, with his head out, puflBng and
blowing like a struck poi'poise. His hat, which had never
been one of Genin's best, floated in the slime near him, and
he himself, facetious man, was beating the mud with his
freed arms, and jerking his body upward, by the action of
his legs, for all the world like a boy " treading water." I
clung to a bush at my side, that I might laugh with the
greater safety.
" This is the end of your down-hill career," observed the
Judge, parentally. " Stuck in the mud at last"
" Confound your moralizing," roared Allen, with his mouth
full of mud and water, " and bear a hand to help the sub-
scriber out of this infernal swamp."
" Bueno camino," sung out a little squeaking voice from a
jungle near by, and our nice young guide presented himself,
with an extra suppleness in his entire frame.
" You half-grown cub of a she-dragon !" roared the
Colonel again, — " once put the subscriber clear of this, and
he'll fix your flint for you."
Whether the boy fully understood the drift of the
Colonel's threat, or not, I cannot say, but retiring within
the shadow of the jungle, he presently reappeared with a
stout limb of balata, which he threw across the swamp, or
quick-7nud, suffering its extremity to rest upon the borders
thereof, and again retreated, throwing his head back waggish-
ly, and kicking up his bare heels like a young colt. It is,
perhaps, needless for me to add that we never saw him again.
.4 TRAMP IN THE WOODS. 81
Now the old proverb, tliat it is much easier to get into a
scrape than to get out of one, found no exception in this par-
ticular case ; and it was only by dint of such gymnastic
evolutions as would be set down for caricaturing, should I
endeavor to depict them, that the Colonel at last got himself
astride of the log, and began edging his way to terra firma.
Oh, what a laughable plight^ he was in, to be sure. There
he stood, hatless and bootless ; his face, hair, and habili-
ments all of a color, like a miller or coal-heaver, but of a
shade which I should describe as a sort of cross between
the two.
" Boots gone ?" inquired Judge Smithers, with a sympa-
thizing air.
" Boots !" retorted the Colonel, holding out one leg like a
darkey fiddler, and steadily regarding the foot thereof; "yes,
and stockings too ; see here. Judge, just suppose the subscriber
to be in the eel business, and to have come across a particu-
larly hard set that wouldn't be skinned nohow, why he'd
just take 'em along to one of these Spanish pantanas, and if
that wouldn't do their business, set the aforesaid down for a
raw sucker !"
" Nonsense, Allen, you know that you were never the pro-
prietor of a pair of stockings. Don't let yourself down to
the meanness of endeavoring to attract symj^athy for the
loss of property which you never possessed."
" It's the way of the world. Judge, as you well know.
Old Caleb Balderstone used to say, that a fire accounted for
all deficiencies, actual and impossible ; and it's rather hard if
such a vile, blasted mud-bath as the subscriber has just taken,
shouldn't explain some. But never mind that, let's see how
you are to get the aforesaid back to camp, since it's pretty
certain that you two will have to take turns in carrying him ;
as to his walking, that is out of the question."
4*
82 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
Here was the boot on the other leg with a vengeance !
There were portions of the road back, which lay over flinty
ground, where it would not be easy for a person unaccus-
tomed to the exercise to walk barefoot. On contemplating
the prospect, with this new light before us, I must confess
that I did not feel quite so strongly inclined to laugh. But
the ever-fertile brain of Judge Smithers was equal to the
emergency.
*' Just fetch that stick along with you, Allen, and when we
get to the bad places, you will take the position thereupon
termed, in military parlance, ' as you Avere,' and we'll carry
you into camp, the latest living personification of riding on a
rail !"
There was nothing for it, under the circumstances, but to
retrace our steps. The sun was almost down, and deeper
and darker shadows crouched in every thicket. As we
travelled backward, Ave were several times in danger of miss-
ing our way, though, thanks to the elastic surface of the
clayey ground, we had more falls than bruises. When we
finally got clear of the wood altogether, and entered the open
valley, where was our camp and friends, it seemed like
getting home again. We could not help feeling the calm,
quiet, cloudless repose in which the spot seemed to He, as if
it were a reflection of the clear bright sky, imparting to oui
liarassed bosoms a portion of its own serenity. The large,
round moon was squandering uj>on every thing within view,
its treasures of silver light, giving to the dark woods, the
climbing hills, and the sparkling river, a rich, mellow,
yet half unreal loveliness. In a little dot, as it were, of
ihis magnificent picture of still life, were seen the white
tents and moving figures of our camp, with a curling wreath
of smoke ascending from the rear of a broad, black
curtain.
A TRAMP IN THE WOODS. 83
A few momenls more, ;uk1 we were in the inidst of this
picturesque group. Oh, such side-splitting shouts of wel-
come and laughter, whon we unceremoniously spilt the mud-
coated Colonel from his novel hand-barrow.
84 LIFE 0:S THE ISTHMUS.
CHAPTER VIII.
AFTER DINNER.
DID the reader infer, from what lias been said, that Mon-
sieur Crapolet was at all overcome by liquor, or trans-
ported out of his ordinary state on this occasion ? If so, the
writer must plead guilty to having led him into error, for J
jiow distinctly recollect, that on our return to camp the
chief of the culinary department was fulfilling his duties
with the most scrupulous and clear-headed exactitude.
Aiid in due time appeared Thom, his shiny black
shoulders, chest, and arms, streaked with lines of rolling per-
spiration, bearing various steaming and truly savory dishes
for dinner. This Thom of ours had a way of rolling up the
whites of his eyes, that was quite startling, and seen in the
moonlight, curiously impressive. If it be true, as suggested
by a recent philosophic writer, that a negro is " kind of cross
between a monkey and a man," I shouldn't wonder if this
Thom did feel at times some rather quaint twinges, at his
peculiar way of introducing the two races. But he was a
taciturn old fellow, who loved his solitary pipe better than
anything else, and whenever I mentioned ray suspicions to
him, he would cut me short by a most emphatic " Ah-wah !"
uttered in a querulous, half angry tone, as much as to say
" now don't bother me — get out !"
Dinner was over, and such a dinner ! — A few days after-
wards, when we were going up Ghagres river, and I saw a
■ \y
AFTER DINNER. 85
great, awful, lazy, mud-brown alligator, lying out so
patriarclially under the immensity of over-hanging foliage^
the uncouth impersonation, as it were, of the pestiferous
vapors and noisome atmospheric ingredients of that fatiiV
river, it seemed to me, rather a quaint fancy to be sure, but
he did actually bring to mind, so stately and lonely as he
was, the image of old David sitting between the gates, and
inquiring for his progeny. " Have you met my young alli-
gators ?" he seemed to say, and certain compunctious gnawings
of the intestines made answer, " We have seen and eat them."
But at any rate dinner was over, and " what was eat yvnn
eat, would ft were worthier." We were lying about iu
groups, smoking of course — everybody smokes on the
Isthmus. It was a bright, balmy, mellow evening, sucli as
is only seen within the Tropics. There was a peculiar soft-
ness in the air that was delightfully grateful to our weary
frames, bathing us, as it were, in a delicious vapor. It was
one of those evenings when the gay greenery of earth,
entwined and festooned in every possible shape of fantastic
beauty though it be, is forgotten in the sublime appre-
ciation of siderial beauty ; when every flitting of the sum-
mer wind awakens harmonious responses in the topmost
boughs of the tall trees ; when the round moon is a
well remembered friend, speaking to us silently of early
innocent pulsations ; when the veiy birds, penetrated by the j
still loveliness of the hour, " murmur in their dreams of the }
dim sweetness fitfully ;" when earth is remembered only as a •
land of calm and holy joys, and heaven itself seems not so -;
very far away ; when the drifting fleecy clouds seem but I
the white-robed spirits of our young departed comrades, ^
beckoning us thitherward ; when we feel ourselves so trans- ]
figured by the genius of the hour that we only wonder \
why our wings are wanting and we cannot follow them.
86 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
I remember having left our party for a moment's solitary
stroll. Such times never fail to call up memories of all the
old times that had any features in common, and now I was
reviewing specially some of our nights upon the desert, where
the same soft sky and the same pale moon was over us, but
how diflferent the surroundings ; there nature was clad in
such severe, almost bald simplicity ; there she wore such
eternal calmness on her oriental front, as if there were no
deeds within her placid bosom to hide from the pure gaze
of those fair stars above ; and here were such turbulent and
luxurious forms of beauty. How the whole earth throbbed
and heaved with the fresh vigor of its vegetable life, and
crowded out its progeny of green things into the upper air,
like a great army. Its tangled and almost impenetrable front,
yet wrought into shapes of strange beauty in all its thou-
sand lines, the home and dwelling-place of serpents, wild
beasts, and gay-plumaged birds, was typical in its massive
headlong growth of that people who were bearing empire on
their rough shoulders away from the sluggish patriarchal
East.
Musing somewhat in this wise, I had come suddenly upon
a little open space where the moonhght was falling in
between the branches in spray-like gushes. I threw myself
upon the ground, and was startled at hearing a voice close
behind me — it was Arthur Orrington, at prayer.
He was praying that he might feel the proper solemnity
of the act, and bring himself into a mood when he woidd
feel it no blasphemy to ask communion with the Lord ; and
he went on to pray that in the bitterness of self-denial, he
might find strength to gain the mastery over a great sin
that was growing upon him, that he might realize
that a good and great deed was an object of real and
eternal beauty, God's thought in action ; and even more
AFTER DIi\NEll. 87
worthy to be loved and coveted than his thought mariitest
in forms of beauty, and that he niiglit, in <tinie, become
impregnated with a jiortion of that goodness even, which is
God, and so begin to grow for ever into his likeness. Then
as I was stealing off, for the wonderful solemnity of his
thoughts and language overpowered me, I heard him
thanking God for those words of Christ, when he said that
the highest evidence of attachment a man could show to a
friend, was to lay down his life for him.
Prayer ! it is a sacred and hallowed thing. It is the
highest, most blessed privilege vouchsafed to mortal man.
It is the one thing which more than all other things proves
hira to be indeed but little lower than the angels, the one
God-recognised link connecting the mortal with the immortal.
So long as man can find the heart to pray he is not lost.
But prayer is too holy a thing to be made light or common
of. It seems to me that not often in man's life should he
dare to exercise that awful prerogative in its fullest sense ;
not but that his life should be one constant prayer of praise
and gratitude, but shown in his life, and not in words. Yet
in times of great peril how soothing, how ennobling to be
able to. look up and say, " God help us !" and after a
miraculous escape, what emotion so exquisite as that which
accompanies the heart- uttered, " thank God !" as it goes on
wings of gratitude straight to the eternal throne. These are
the prayers which work out a man's salvation.
Earnestness and sincerity always command respect, what-
ever may be the circumstances under which we behold their •
development. No matter how absurd or visionary may be
a man's aim in our estimation, yet if we see him firm, straight-
forward, and persevering, and feel, besides, tliat he is really
in earnest, we involuntarily fall back to let him pass, and
look after him with a (.ertain sentiment of admiration, which
88 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
we are hardly willing to acknowledge to ourselves. And if
so be his course conflicts not with our own, but leads above
it, and in its brilliancy reflects a certain light upon ours,
then we breathe blessings upon the path which blinds and
dazzles us. I have done no justice to the prayer of Arthur
Orriugton in the woods. The language in which his thoughts
were clothed was as pure and grand as they. Surrounded
as I had been for so long by those whose struggle was for
the forms of life, this expression of a soul which asked for
something more, even for the true essence of existence, over-
came me with a profound solemnity. The great reality of
this man's purpose made me feel as if the rest of us were
chasing shadows. I think I must have carried my impres-
sions pretty plainly on my countenance, for when I returned
to camp. Colonel Allen, who was the first to observe me,
called out defiantly that " the subscriber was ready to bet
the drinks for the crowd, that the new-comer had met a
ghost."
" Speaking of ghosts," said Tom, '' what a ghostly place
the old fort at Chagres is !"
" Aint it ?" said the Colonel abstractedly.
" But have you really seen a ghost ?" inquired Mrs. Wal-
lack, who took great interest in things supernatural.
"No," said I.
"Then," observed Judge Smithers, "Allen has lost the
drinks."
"Agreed," said Allen. " And speaking of the old fort and
drinks in connexion, the subscriber takes occasion to state
to the crowd that he is the proprietor of a most extraordina-
rily cobweby bottle, found by the aforesaid while on a
voyage of discovery in said fort, which cobweby bottle is sup-
posed to contain some excellent old Cognac, something pro-
bably prior to the time of Otard."
AFTER DINNER. 89
" I suggest that the subscriber produces the same without
further prelude," said Tom.
"Now then, Allen," observed the Judge, "here is a chance
to clear up your character somewhat. If this little story of
the bottle should turn out to be true, it will be a perfect
God-send to you, and like charity, cover a multitude of lies.
Produce the Cognac."
" But that State House story — " began Allen,
" We will have another time," continued the Judge ; " and
now for the brandy,"
Upon this, " the subscriber " began to stir his stumps, and
proceeded towards Thorn's apartment, as if there was really a
bottle of brandy to be brought forth. It seemed at any rate
that he had got to the right shop, in one sense, for throwing
up his hands in consternation, as he looked behind the black
curtain, he uttered these memorable words —
"The subscriber, takes occasion to be astonished."
Then plunging desperately from our sight, he presently re-
appeared, bearing in his clutches the unfortunate Monsieur
Crapolet, Avho was presented to us as a culprit taken in the
act of drawing the cork from Allen's cobweby bottle. Poor
Crapolet ! he had the corkscrew inserted just ready for a pull,
and I really believe the lachrymose lover was very thirsty,
for he eyed the bottle longingly, while Colonel Allen haran-
gued him as follows : —
" Miserable Frenchman, you are truly worthy to be ranked
with the man spoken of in Scripture."
"Where?" inquired Judge Smithers.
" In Scripture," said Allen triumphantly, " spoken of in
Scripture, of whom Solomon in his wisdom said, ' thou art
the man.' "
"Let me see" said the Judge, " what was the beginning
of that storv 1"
90 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS
"The subscriber will be proud to enlighten you on the
subject. A rich man once gave a great dinner."
" Ah, yes, who was it ?"
" I don't exactl)^ recollect that part of it," said Allen, " but
I think it was Solomon — if not — Saul."
" But they were not contemporaries."
" We won't argue that point," said the Colonel.
" Well, go on," said the Judge.
"This man then — "
" Who «"
" Saul — this man Saul, had plenty of everything for din-
ner: Mulligatawny soup, boiled cod-fish, oyster sauce — roast
beef, goose, turkey, venison, wild ducks, lobster salad, chicken
fixens, in fact a good dinner."
" What book do you find that recorded in, Allen ?"
" What book ? Scripture. Well, he had everything, this
old King Solomon, everything but mutton. He would not
have noticed this, if it had not ha' been for an old chap, a
particular friend of his, named Jeroboam, who observed on
taking a glass of port with the King, that such port wouldn't
be a bad accompaniment for boiled mutton and caper sauce."
" My impression is," said Tom, " that it was roast mutton
that was called for."
" We wont argue that point," said the Colonel, " so he calls
one of his men — John, says he," —
"Never mind the rest of the story," said Judge Sraithers,
" there is such a passage in the Bible as, ' Thou art the man,'
and from your knowing that, I thought it possible that you
might have read something in the book when young."
" Parbleu, he got my measure that time, sur la gauche,"
said Monsieur Crapolet, shrugging his shoulders, "for cer-
tainly, I furnished an excellent dish of mutton three times a
week."
AFTER DINNER. 91
" Revenons a nos moutons," said Torn, " to the bottle."
"To the bottle," repeated Allen, applying himself to
withdrawing the cork. In this department of industry, the
dilapidated colonel was unrivalled, extracting the cork, and
holding a glass in his left hand, and the bottle in his
right, he proceeded, as he thought, to turn out the liquor.
" But pleasures are like poppies spread,
You seize the flower — its bloom is shed."
And so although " the subscriber" held the bottle quite
correctly in a horizontal position, nothing issued therefrom.
"Come come, Allen," said Judge Smithers jocosely,
" you've gone through the motions very well, and we'll let
you off with that."
" But the subscriber protests — " began Allen, quite fiercely.
" It was only some kind of light wine, very likely," said
Tom soothingly.
" But there is yet something in the bottle," observed the
Major, taking it out of the hands of Allen, who remained
quite aghast at the very unpleasant termination of the
affair.
"And it is a roll of manuscript," continued the Major,
who had now broken the bottle, and produced from among
the fragments a sealed package, which certainly bore exter-
nal evidence of being manuscript.
" Ah !" said Allen, coming forward with a brightened air,
" who knows but this is the identical bottle which Columbus
threw overboard the night he discovered America I"
" Which was washed up into the old fort by some un-
usual freak of the waves," suggested Judge Smithers; " but
there are records which allude to the article thrown over-
board by Columbus on a certain occasion as a keg, and not
a bottle."
92 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
" We wont argue that point," said Allen, " but will have
the paper read, and the subscriber would suggest that Mr.
Eddington read the document aloud."
" If you mean me," said Tom, " and it is the general
desire — I shall be most happy to officiate."
" What is the title of it, Tom ?" inquired somebody.
" It don't appear to have any," said Tom, " but begins
quite abruptly."
" I hope it's funny," said somebody.
"The subscriber stands ready to bet the drinks it aiot,"
said Colonel Allen.
"Of course it isn't," said Judge Sraithers, "nobody would
think of sealing anything funny up tight, and putting it
into a bottle."
" Well then," said Allen doggedly, " the subscriber will
bet the drinks it is."
" But you hav'n't paid your last bet. Colonel," said Judge
Smithers.
" We wont argue that point," said Colonel Allen ; " read
on, Tom."
Whereupon Tom proceeded to read what the reader of
this narrative will iind in the next chapter.
THE BOTTLE MANUSCRIPT 93
CHAPTER IX.
THE BOTTLE MANUSCRIPT.
GOLD, what a strange tiling it is ! I do verily believe
that it is the concentrated, solid essence of the world's
lost sunshine.
What power does it not possess ?
Power — it needed not a voice from the depths of another
world to tell us " to be weak is to be miserable." This h
one of the eternal laws of being, and it is only the fool who
wilfully sets it at defiance.
To be powerful, on the other band, is to be happy; and
gold is power. Knowledge is not — virtue is not — gold is !
And now gold is mine !
Yes, mine ; and lies here within reach of my arm, as
silent and clod-like, in these hundred mouldering and black
old kegs, as if it were the merest bits of yellow metal, instead
of a fresh and rosy god, with an arm whose beck should
bring greatness and glory, like willing slaves, to its side;
and a voice seductive as a siren's, winning within its charmed
circle, all intoxicating essences of life, love, beauty, flattery.
Mine, with a certain condition, it is true, — a condition
made by the lean, sallow, mildewed old keeper, who shoved
me into this glorious fortune — that I am to remain here
without communication with the world for twelve months ;
and then to go forth master and owner of it all — not all the
94 LIFE OIS THE ISTHMUS.
world literally — but yet in fact, since being owner of this
gold will make me master and owner of all the best of it.
A liard condition truly ! The shrivelled hermit is little of
a man to have supposed it possible, that there could have
been any hesitation on my part, in complying with his pro-
posal. As if I hadn't had good reason to know its terrible —
its ineffable Avorth.
As if 1 hadn't for so many years been plodding along the
world's miry paths, looking downwards mostly, that I might
not see and envy the gorgeous robes, the buoyant bearing,
the proud, self-sustained, triumphant looks ; and with ray
ears shut, that I might not hear the rattling din of the
gallant, merrily bedecked equipages of those favored mor-
tals, who had what T had not — gold.
As if the want of it had not made me come to doubt even
my right to a j)lace in a world where it was the one good
and needful thing.
As if I had not been a very leper, as it were, in the social
world, and seen my old friends and associates shrink back
at my approach, drawing their garments closer about them,
»nd whispering to one another, " unclean, unclean !" and all
for the want of it.
As if I, myself, hadn't at times slunk away, anc)
getting to a secret place, alone with my Maker, sat coolly
down to ask him why it was that he had made me, and
placed me in a world where gold was (nerything, and
without which there was nothing — and yet given me none
of it.
As if truth and bravery, and love and honor, had not
become to me as mere stiff, cold corpses, except as the
smiles of this sunny god shed life and beauty over them.
As if — pshaw I
I remember once being in the principal street of a great
THE BOTTLE MANUSCRIPT. 95
city. It seemed to lu^ like a holiday ; everybody was
moving rapidly along, talking, laughing, and to the first
glance of a superficial eye, appeared gay and happy. Men,
women, and children were freshly and tastefully habited,
and between these living lines of pleasant faces and graceful
forms, horses and vehicles, proudly caparisoned, or glistening
like polished mirrors of many brilliant hues, were rattling to
and fro, exciting by their gallant action a livelier heat in
the general pulsation. The shop windows, with their large
clear panes, were rich and attractive in all elegant and
costly fabrics. In the brilliancy of the tout ensemble of the
scene, I quite forgot that the real proprietors of its glitter
and magnificence were but a few, and that the many saw it
but with blight and bitterness of heart, hating themselves
for the very envy which it excited. I revelled and basked
in its serene brightness, and felt glad in being a part of such
a world.
But the reaction came when I looked at the separate parts
of which the whole was composed.
A man was walking directly before me, leading by the
hand a little girl. The man was poorly dressed, seedy, pale,
liaggard, and the little girl was likewise poorly clad, but with
locks of dark wavy hair, in which delicate threads of sun-
shine seemed to mingle ; a full fresh happy face, the pure
good eye of a young angel on God's errand, and a form of
light and beauty, " that might have walked unchallenged
through the skies."
It was natural that all the rich and beautiful things
of earth should be hers — that she should have but to will,
and thev should fall about her like a fitting vesture, which
slie would wear with the unconscious grace and dignity of
the old divinity of right. It seemed to me as if theliighest
possible use to which all the best and most beautiful of this
Of. LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
world's possessions could be put, would be to lie down at
her feet and ask in winningest tones to be thought beautiful
by her. Oh, w'ith what a sudden wrench was this delicious
idea torn from my mind ! For to realize that anything
could be wanting to gratify her pure and child-like wishes,
was to feel that this world was all miserably wrong, and
that the face of mother nature, and the not less divine
countenance of her best beloved. Art, were but false and vain.
" Papa," said stie, letting her words fall liquidly and
clearly, as if they were indeed little globules of sound, float-
ing outward and upward from her soul, and alive with
some of its own pure essence, " how swiftly and grandly the
carriages go by, the horses seem to have hidden wings.
Oh, I would so like to ride."
The father scowled — a scowl of black, fiendish malignity,
that cast a horrible shadow over the wide street, and
fell with a deep plunge into my soul like a ball of ice. The
child did not see it, but went trij^ping on, in a circle of light
that was brigliter and better than the sun's, because it
reflected outward from lier own heart.
Next they paused a moment to look into a shop window,
where costly designs in gold and silver were displayed.
" See, papa, that beautiful little silver castle," said the
child again, " I should like it for my wooden soldiers ;" and
receiving no response, she added quickly, as if in divination
of the reason, " but I can't have it, you know, because
it costs more money than you liave got, and so I do not
really want it, dear papa."
And then because he made no answer to her childish
])rattle, but hurried her silently away with him, then I hated
liim, and cursed liim heartily for a mean despicable thing.
I had no pity for his broken spirit, his wasted manhood, his
lost aims of life, 1 only saw that he was weak, where
THE BOTTLE MANUSCRIPT. 97
he should have been most strong, and in my stunned misery,
I uttered a silent but earnest request that God would give
me death, and after that the agonies of hell, rather than
tliat I should ever be the means of denying to youth
the enjoyment which is its eternal heritage.
How often since has the vision of that little girl with her
great soul-lit eyes come up and mingled with my dreams !
What, if through her own poverty and the machinations of
the rich she went astray in after years, and so lost that
heaven which was her birthright ? Yes, and what if there
should be no other and better world than this, and no God
anywhere but — gold !
" Here is a break in the manuscript," observed Tom, look-
ing up from the papers, " and when it continues the hand-
writing is somewhat changed."
" As if the ink had thickened by exposure in that
devilish hole," suggested the Judge, looking over the reader's
ehonlder.
" Never mind ; go on, Tom."
And Tom went on to read.
What a magnificent position is this of mine ! I am
overlooking the bustle and ridiculous activity of my fellows
in their heated search for what I have only to lie back
awhile, and then coolly take possession of. It is true that
my window has a villanous grate over it, and if it hadn't,
there is little probabiHty that I should be in a hurry to part
company with these old kegs, and take a precipitous plunge
from an elevation of several hundred feet into the Chagres
river, or upon the sharp-pointed rocks along its margin.
But it is, nevertheless, very soothing — tickling, I think, is the
better expression, tx:> watch from thence the crowd as they
land, and afterward go up river, and again to see as great a
crowd returning, wayworn, sick, and after all with but the
9S LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
merest handful of what is piled in great masses by my
side.
The only idea that troubles me at all is that I am getting
it too easy, and shall consequently not appreciate it as I
ought ; tv.elve months, how quick they will roll aw^ay in
pleasant anticipations !
"Is there much more of it f asked Colonel Allen, who
held a pack of cards in his hands, upon which he was, as it
seemed unconsciously, performing some curious mechanical
operations with a kind of double-headed scraper, such as
changing at a single rasp trays into aces, and villanous
jacks into very respectable queens, simply by taking off their
caps.
" Not a great deal," said Tom, drawing attention to the
Colonel's innocent amusement, by a wink, and reading on.
Last night it was raining heavily ; I collected some bits
of wood and fragments of hoops, that were scattered about
the floor of my cell, or rather room, and built me a nice
little fire. It was very cheery. As I sat rubbing my hands
over the blaze, I could not refrain from chuckling over my
fortunate lot, in looking forward to the time when I would
have a hearthside of my own, and the gold which should
buy all the appliances to make it so very cosy and comfort-
able. Long after it had all burned out, and I was sleeping
soundly on my blanket stretched upon the kegs, I was
awakened by a distant .shouting ; I got up, and there was a
broad glare of light dashing into my chamber. It came
from the American side of the river, where a house was on
fire, and by its flashing gleams I could see the hurried and
anxious forms of men, some of whom were being made beg-
gars by its fitful freaks. It was emblematic of my own gold.
Gold, thought I to myself, it is like the yellow flame, so
quiet and helpful a servant, so kind and companionable a
THE BOTTLE MANUSCRIPT. 99
friend, but when roused and bending its energies for evil
•what a very terrible demon it is !
Well, let it be a demon ; let it work its freaks and its
torments, I have seen poverty do worse.
I was once riding in a rail-car on a long route ; amongst
other passengers I noticed a young woman enter with an
infant in her arms. I did not particularly notice the young
woman at first, but I could not help observing the child, and
thinking to myself how like a little cherub it was. It was a
boy. I knew that at once, from its fearless smile and self-
relying air. But bye and bye I also noticed that the mother
— it was easy enough to make out that she tvas the mother —
looked strangely at her fellow, travellers, almost glaring at
them with meaningless (to me, at any rate) bright eyes ;
and I further observed, for now I began to watch her
curiously, that her expression changed most vividly and,
earnestly as she looked into her little one's face and watched
its happy triumphant aspect. It was as if she were turning
away from a broad bleak desert, or a wide, wide dreary sea,
to a little sunny spot of earth that was her home ; but the
love that shot as it were from her eyes had in it a glitter so
deep and dazzling, that it impressed me with a strange sensa-
tion bordering even upon terror. There was a small private
room in the car where Ave were riding, and with a shrinking
glance at the rest of the company she withdrevv' thither,
clinging passionately to her feeble little charge ; I remember
that a quaint sort of thought came to me as she retired from
our observation ; what if that babe should die ? the tiny
hillock over its bones would be to that dreaming mother a
mountain which she could never pass, and the great world
would never be tenanted by her again.
Well, we rode along, and when we arrived at our jour-
ney's end, I had forgotten all about the mother and her
100 LIFE OA' THE ISTHMUS.
babe, but as I was leaving the car, the door of the private
room suddenly opened and the mother came forth, alone.
I watched her a moment to see her go back for her child, but
she kept steadily on towards the steps of the car preparatory
to getting out.
" Madam," said I, accosting her, " you have left your
babe behind."
" Yes," said she coolly, " he is many miles behind us.
See here. My little boy was happy to-day for a moment, and
was dead before the fever flush passed oft'. I did it. I was com-
ing here, you see, to a new place without money or friends ;
coming to continue my old life of sin and wretchedness — a
life of which my boy was as yet utterly unconscious — so
when we were passing an open spot in the woods up which
some birds were idly fanning themselves along, and he was
twittering and beating his little arms in very sympathy, then
I seized suddenly on all the misery and desperation of
years, and compressing it to a little circle within my hands,
tightened it about his tender neck and strangled him thus,
and then threw him after the birds into the woods ; and-there
he is sleeping for ever without ever having had to taste one
drop of the agony which is my daily drink. Now let thera
do with me what they will, I have conquered my last weak-
ness — I lost heaven long ago — what riglit have I to hanker
after one of its holiest joys ?"
This was another terrible mystery to me in God's provi-
dence.
" Here is another break in the manuscript, indicated by
several lines of asterisks," said Tom, pausing in his reading.
" From which we are left to infer," observed Judge
Smithers, " that the author might have given us some better
thoughts yet, if he would but have taken the trouble to
pen his inspiration,"
THE BOTTLE MANUSCRIPT. 101
" Pray go on," said Colonel Allen.
And Tom went on.
I am half-sick to-day, and quite down-hearted. Last
night I was verv restless. I awoke about midnifjht. The
moonbeams were shining clear and pale across my cham-
ber. I had an unpleasant fancy coine over me, that I was
lying upon a heap of human bones, instead of my kegs of
gold. Even when I got up and moved off a little to take a
fairer view, I could not quite get rid of the idea. These
black kegs did look dead, rotten, and kind of devilish too,
in the holy moonlight.
Some hours afterward while I was lying on tlie damp
stone floor, I f«lt something crawl over my breast ; I jumped
up hastily, and thought I saw the retreating form of a
snake writhing through a hole in a corner of the room.
I must have been mistaken about this, as to-day I can
find no trace of any hole or crack — but the idea was real
enough to spoil the balance of my night's rest. I did so
long for daylight, that I could have shouted for joy when I
saw the first rays of the sun fall aslant upon the red roofs
of the Chagres houses. How I fretted to be over there
only for a moment, just to have a cup of coffee at " Old
Joe's," or a drink with one of the boatmen !
What if gold should not be the highest good after ail ?
There would I be trapped in a mean position truly I
But I happened to know for a certainty that it is. I had
a brother once who died suddenly and miserably, as if he
bad been stung b\' a serpent, because he could not or
would not bov,- himself down and worship gold as the chief
thing.
It happened in this way. lie was my elder brother ano
a merchant. In his early life he had been wonderfully
successful in his ventures. Like old Midas he seemed to
102 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
have the golden touch, but he did not prize it as Midas
did. On the contrary, he was free and profuse in his expen-
ditures, lie married young, and at the time of his death
had about him a large iamily of little children. It's the old
story of mis])laced confidence that killed him. ^yhen the
truth came home to him, that men sought after and loved
for its own sake, wliat in his eyes was but dross in itself,
and only valuable for what it might aid in efiecting ; that
gold was to be considered as an end and not a means;
that he had been buying friendship and re>pect, when
he had all along suj)posed it to be tlie voluntary tribute of
loyal hearts; that he must give up all his wealth and luxu-
ries, and see himself and wife and little ones become beggai-s,
or else tui'u crafty IHce the rest ; then it was that his great
heart sank within him, and he shut himself up iti his own
liouse to die. He was not angry witli fate ; he did not
immure himself thus to spite her, but because his overflow-
ing love and sympathy had gone out and spread itself
widely about the world, and had all of it"Come back chilled
and dying, because he recognised in himself a monster who
had wilfully preferred honor to selfishness, and brotherly
kindness to gold ; and because lie felt that it was too late
for him to wean himself from the great folly of his early
manhood, and learn anew the ways of men ; this was why
his great eyes grew dim and downcast, looking inward with
a strange misgiving expression, and his broad clear manly
brow, which used to be so calm and noble, became knit and
clouded, and he could nowhere find strength to bear up
against the fatal consequences of his error.
lie died — and I shall never, never forget the day of his
burial — so storm-drenched, woe-begone, and (rod-forsaken
as the woi'ld seemed that day. But if it had been literally
the sunniest one that Nature ever wove her smiles for, it
THE BOTTLE MANUSCRIPT. 103
would have been the same or worse, even, to me — for now
it was as if the old mother groaned at the departure of a
noble son. And yet it was truly a terrible mistake of which
he died.
That night I lay awake for a long time, listening to the
howling storm, and wondering where my brother then was,
he who had nursed me when a sick boy, and instilled into me
in later years, a portion of what I then thought his glorious
philosophy. At length I slept. It was late the next morn-
ing when I awoke, and now I remember as if it were only
this moi'ning that I had seen it ; how diiiereut was the face
of nature from the previous day. The weather had grown
quite cold ; and over the fields, and on the house tops and
fences, and on the branches of trees, lay a vesture of the
purest white. Oh ! how serene and happy I felt for the
moment, for I could not dissuade myself from the fancy
that the bare and desolate earth had donned that snowy
robe to typify the white raiment which my brother was
then wearing among the angels in the new world, whither
he had gone.
Ha ! what if I should die within these slimy walls, by
the side of these rotten kegs, there would be no vesture of
snow above my grave I
Here Tom ceased to read, and rolled up the manuscript,
to the great relief of Colonel Allen.
"An abrupt termination," remarked the Major.
" He had probably got to the end of his paper," said
Judge Smith ers.
" It is evidently written," continued the Major, " by some
outward-bound Californian, ambitious of appearing in the
Magazines, under some such bold heading as 'Manuscript
found in a bottle, in one of the dungeons of San Lorenzo !' "
" It has some good things in it," said the Judge, " and is
]04 I AVE ON THE ISTHMUS.
exactly what a man would 7iot liave written under the cir-
cumstances."
"What do you make of it?" inquired I of Colonel Allen,
who was mechanically shuffling the pack of cards, to which
allusion has already been made.
" Nothing at all," said the Colonel ; " it is neither high,
low. Jack, nor the game."
" I propose," said Monsieur Crapolet, with a shrug of his
shoulders, intended to awaken " the subscriber " to a sense
of his duties, " that as we have abstained for a long time,
probably with the view to please somebody, we now treat
ourselves to a glass of punch all round."
THE PADRE. 105
CHAPTER X.
THE ]'ADRE.
ON the following inorning, which I then believed to be
Sunday, althougli I kept no '■ notched stick," we struck
CUV tents and took up our line of march back to Chagres.
We had come to the conclusion to try the river route as far
as Gorgoua. So following along the banks of the philan-
thropic stream, Avhich is the one redeomittg feature in old
Chagres, we at length found ourselves in the outskirts of the
town, without observing any visible signs of its having
changed much during our absence. Neither do I now recol-
lect that there was any particular evidence of its being the
Sabbath. Stay — there was one old crone exciting a brace of
formidable-looking cocks to a little frisky skirmish by way
of a whet, and on my venturing an observation on the sub-
ject to Colonel Allen, she favored us with an explanatory
remark — " Hoy, no es domingo, senor I" which certainly
there was no denying.
We pitched our camp, tliis time, a little in the rear of
Main street, not far from Senor Ramos' liouse. I mention
Senor Ramos' house in this place as a point of departure,
because a good many years ago — several years, in fact, before
the discovery of tlie California gold mines — wlien I was at
Cambridge, and in that staid locality found great relief in
dipping into records of travel and adventure, it chanced that
I lit upon a very entertaining description of a journey from
6*
106 LIFE ON THE JSTHlMUS.
Chili to Jamaica, via tiie Isthmus of Panama, pubHslied in
one of the British Magazines.
The writer had been particularly cautioned, -while at Cruces,
about exposing himself to the night air in Chagres, by a
Spanish gentleman residing at the former place, of whom,
by the by, he relates the following characteristic anecdote.
That having, as a consequence of a letter of recommendation
from the British Consul at Panama, charged him rather mo-
derately for his night's lodging, he indemnified his finances
for this eft'ort of honesty, on the following morning, by giving
him in exchange for his doubloons, some spurious coin, Avhich
the writer was only able to dispose of afterwards in the way
of gratuities to necessitous persons. This very respectable,
business-like gentleman condescended to inform him in quite
H confidential manner, that there was one house at Chagres
where lie would be comparatively safe, but that he must on
no account put his head out of doors during the night, or
immediate death would be the result. This wonderful man-
sion, which could thus hold out against the King of Terrors,
was the house of Senor Earaos, and was air-tigljt. Accord-
ingly the writer goes on to say — I liave got the gist of his
narrative, although my memory does not retain all his happy
expressions — that all that day as they floated down the
beautiful, but alas, often fatal river of Chagres, the image of
Senor Ramos' air-tight house was ever before him. This
Seijor Ramos — what a man he must be, too, to have the
only air-tight house in a place where a residence in any other
kind of house was sure to terminate fatally in a short time.
To reach his house before night-fall was salvation ; to fail
thereof, was to become food for alligators.
Well, the writer goes on to describe most graphically how
they did finally arrive at Chagres, but long after the sun had
set, although he had been spared all the horrors of anticipa-
THE PADRE. 107
tion by having fallen asleep just before the disappearance
of that every-day luminary. He was aroused from his slum-
bers by hearing a splash or Imo in the water alongside, and
becoming fairly awake, found to his unutterable consterna-
tion, that his dug-out was fast on a mud bank, and that his
natives had absconded — " a wa y th ey have " — leaving him
to take care of himself and luggage. It Avas probably quite
late, for there were no lights to be seen on shore. What
was to be done ? The man of the air-tight house, how was
he to be come at \ Would he venture to open his door at
such a time, for surely a gush of air would pour in, killing
his innocent wife and darling babes ! But then for the writer
to breathe nothing but this air all night — impossible.
So he goes on to say, that at that solemn hour, " when all
around was still," he set himself to work in bellowing most
emphatically the name of Senor Ramos, thinking that as he
was a man' of consequence, this call must surely be attended
to by somebody. By and by a man came down and inquired
" Per el amor Dies, que hay ?" This man was immediately
bought up to go and kick \-igorously at Senor Ramos' door
and inform him — Ramos — of the writer's situation. But, alas,
he speedily returned with the melancholy tidings that Senor
Ramos was not in town (where could he have been, by
the by ?), and that the family would not open the door at
that time of night for mortal man. So our hero betook
himself to an Englishman's invariable preventative for mala-
rial diseases, the drinking of brandy and water and smoking
cigars ; in which medicinal occupation he continued till the
arms of Morpheus again received him, and he awoke not till
the sun was fairly risen, when he informs us that he knelt
down and thanked God that in his merciful Providence he
was still alive.
This narrative made a curious impression on me at the
108 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
time. I conceived a morbid desire to visit such a deadly
place as this old town of Chagres, and wondered if I would
die there, should I ever do so. Senor Ramos' house be-
came an object of interest to me, and a place to be seen,
as the Coliseum, St. Paul's, or the Louvre. And that
is why I now say that our camp was pitched not far from there.
But ask the untravelled reader, was Senor Ramos' house
such a grand editice, and was it air-tight ? Certainly not ;
but at the time I did not know how writers, generally con-
sidered of the strictest veracity, will sometimes sift a little
spice of fiction into their works, where there is a chance of
producing an impression. Yet the Ramos mansion, even in
my time, was the best house in Chagres. It was a frame
building of one story and a half, with a piazza in front, a re-
gular pitch pine tioor, and a tight thatched roof projecting
down over the piazza, making that quite a cool and inviting
spot for a lounge in the day-time. And it might have been
comparatively air-tight ; and certainly, with its raised wooden
floor, must have been a healthier place to sleep in than the
wretched huts around.
One day, the Major came to me with quite a chuckling
air, and showed me a small bag of specie which he had
received of Senor Ramos, in exchange for some doubloons,
which, notwithstanding all our unlucky adventures, he had
still left among his stores.
" Seventeen dollars to the doubloon," said he, with the air
of a successful financial operator.
" Let me see the dollars," said L
" The real metal," said the Major, taking one out, and ring-
ing it on the table.
" Oh, certainly," said I, " the real metal, only these happen to
be New Granadian dollars, which are only worth some seventy
or eighty cents each in the States, and your Spanish dou-
THE PADRE. 109
bloons are wortli according to our hist prices current, sixteen
American dollars and forty cents."
The Major was extremely crest-fallen, particularly as I
laughed quite heartily, which I did from thinking of Senor
Ramos' " indemnifying his finances," like his Cruces contem-
porary, for the impertinent curiosity with which himself and
his establishment were often visited.
Apart from Senor Ramos' air-tight house, Ciiagres proper
18 truly a wretched old town, and yet I think the American
side the most execrable of the two. But the native side has
existed for years in its present filthy, dilapidated condition.
It is the Jiome — Heaven forgive us for thus desecrating that
holiest of words — of its inhabitants. Here Avere they boi'u,
and here they grow up ; here, in fulness of time, they are
supposed to have married, and become fathers and mothers ;
and when we look upon the place in this light, its mean
kennel-like hovels, its putrid streets, its stagnant pools, its
slrmy pavements, its hairless dogs, its sick carrion-fed pigs, its
sneaking lizards, characteristic crabs, its scorpions, centipedes,
and tarantulas, all of the latter accepted as belonging to
the category of domestic animals — I must confess that I find,
it hard to recognise these natives as members of the same
great family as myself. That this place should be so low
and vile and loathsome, when it is set in a frame of such
magnificent verdure ; that these people should eat pork
and drink the most inflammatory of fire water, when the
orange, the mango, and the banana are ripe and mellow,
and rotting even on the trees, within a few rods of their
thresholds ! It is certainly no impious presumption on my
part, to hope their heaven, whatever it is to be, may not
be mine. And yet, there is no toad, however " ugly and
venomous, but wears some precious jewel in its head."
So these fellows have served, and are yet serving, _a good
110 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
purpose in their way ; and the dogged perseverance with
which they have given the sons of Empire a shove on
their careering path, is quite a redeeming trait in their
bestial character.
The town, be it remarked, in passing, is not entirely des-
titute of civic character, as at first siglit would appear to be
the case. From a bird's-eye view of the huts, one would be
a little puzzled to fix upon the precise locality of the Court
House, City Hall, or Church, yet Chagres lays claim to a
Judge, an Alcalde, and a Priest. And speaking of the priest,
one day while we were at Chagres, a little adventure
occurred, of which he was the hero. The incident is not
very funny, but to those who have met the man, and view
it in connexion with his ghostly functions, I liave reason to
hope that it may prove slightly laughable.
I will premise the narrative, by describing this dignitary as
being personally of a sad and sallow cast.
»
"Long, and lean, and lank,
As is the ribbed sea sand !"
With eyes, of which the wliites were emphatically "sicklied
o'er," straight black hair like an Indian's, a solemn, woe-
begone expression in general, everlastingly habited in black,
but of a texture nowise akin to that which derives its name
from its eternal dnrability — profound in his meditations,
shallow in the crown of his sombrero; " stately in his cour-
tesies, and scanty in his nether api>arel." Such was the
melancholy padre in persona.
Well, then, it happened that one day we were at the
identical bazaar, spoken of in a previous work, as the ex-
tensive property of "General Jackson," when the church
dignitary under discussion entered. Never was a philan-
THE PADRE. Ill
thropic question put to mortal man, with more aptitude,
than that which the great general addressed to the priest,
when his sombre shadow first fell across the thi-eshold.
*' Padre, will you smile V
The padre's risible organs relaxed not, but he bowed his
head profoundly, and stalked back of the counter, where I
am inclined to believe that, if the term " smile" referred 'on
that occasion to taking a drink of spirituous liquor, as I am
told it sometimes does, the padre smiled long and frequently.
At any rate, when he came forth again into the Gentile
world, his eyes had a dancing gleam in them, quite different
fron] anything which we liad before remarked in that
locality ; and his body swayed to and fro, as he propelled,
as if in sympathy with some internal mirthfulness.
Out walked the regenerated padre Into the open sunshine —
for there are times when theie is sunshine at Chagres — as
has been before remarked.
There was a schooner lying directly in front of the Greneral's
emporium, with a plank stretched from her i-ail to the shore.
" Whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad," is an
old proverb, and just as certain is it that when a man is
" wrong," " sick," " shot in the neck," or whatever little
misfortune of a like nature he may be afflicted with, these
same gods invariably instil into his mind a wilful and uncon-
querable determination " to walk a plank." But not to wrong
our padre, or scandalize his sacred oflice, it is but fair to re-
member that this propensity may proceed from other causes.
We have it upon no less authority than that of Mr. Richard
Swiveller, that the mere tact of a man's "having the sun in
his eyes," may so confuse his perceptions, as to put him in
quite a lamentable plight. Be that as it may, the priest
saw the plank, and all the boatmen in Chagres would have
been powerless to dissuade him from an attempt to walk it.
112 LIFE OS THE ISTHMUS.
The Gefieral and bis cFerk were watching him from the
door.
" Steady, Padre," said the (ieneral, as the padre first tried
the plank to assure himself of its steadiness.
" Steady, old boy," said Fred.
" He'll never get aboard," said the General, for the padre
appeared to have a dead beat of it.
" Perhaps he'll have a little more soap on his boots,"
suggested Fred.
But he seemed to have quite soap ejiough, for at the same
moment the vessel gave a rather sudden lurch inward, which
joggled the plank, and was the means of precipitating the
ambitious dignitary into the muddy \vater of the river. The
water was not above the padre's height in the spot Avhere he
fell, but yet he contrived somehow to get his head under two
or three times ; and each time that that sallow^ appendage
emerged from the plunge, his straight Indian-like hair seemed
to have acquired an extra tenacity, and stuck to his hollow
forehead and cheek-bones like bark to a young tree.
The General was inwardly delighted and outwardly
shocked, and toddled off some distance up the levee to
get a boat, while Fred, who took the matter very coolly, as
a thing which he was quite prepared for, picked up a boat-
hook in the store, and proceeded to the bank to fish up the
unfortunate priest. Before attending to his case, however,
Fred attacked the floating beaver, which bringing safely to
shore, he there elevated with his thumb and forefinger as if
it were a foot-ball, and gave it a kick which sent it soaring
to a distance of some fifty feet down the levee, where it was
picked up by a party of stragglers, who made oft' with it —
probably to carry out the joke. He then applied himself to
the saturated padre, and having got a secure hold upon the
seat of his trowsers, had no difficulty in bringing him to land.
THE PAD an. 113
But \vhat''a pliglit he was in ! His shiny bhiek suit
seemed pasted to him Hke so much court plaster. To say
that he was drenched, soaked, or saturated, would convey
no correct idea of his thoroughly humid condition. Here
was a damp, moist, watery sort of a padre. You might
have wrung out of the stitching of one of his button-holes,
more liquid than a contemplation of all the sins and miseries
of the human race would ever have squeezed from under his
eyelids.
Jackson, who now hove in sight, sculling a boat under the
vessel's stern, seeing at a glance the state of things, suggested
to Fred, with his customary forethought, that the padre
should be taken into the shop and treated to something
warming. Whereupon Fred drew one of the padre's arms
within his own, and shouting " Come along, old gal,"
to the infinite amusement of those boys standing around,
whose early days had been spent iu tiie neighborhood of
the Bowery, lifted his right log once or twice to a right-
angular position with his body, and brought it firmly back
to the ground again, before really setting out, intending
thereby to give a farcelike character to the whole transaction.
So much devoted was Fred, nevertheless, to his employer's
interest, and so anxious to carry out his orders iu the most
literal manner, that having got the unfortunate padre safe
into the shop, he contrived to get two glasses of the Gene-
ral's worst brandy down his, the padre's, throat, before the
proprietor of the establishment appeared.
" Now, then," said Jackson, pufling with his unusual exer-
tion as he came in, " we'll see what we can do for this poor
devil in the way of a little something to drink, eh, mio amigo."
" Con mucho gusto," said the j>adre, and he dispatched
two generous glasses more.
"Now for a change of clothes," said the General.
114 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
"His toilette sliall be atteuded to," said Fred. "Walk
this way."
"With much difficulty the padre was got up stairs, Avhere
Fred in a business-like manner proceeded to strip him,
calling at the same time upon Jackson for such unclerical
robes as his " striped shorts," and " bottle green cut
away."
" But," said the General, suggestively, " your clothes will
answer better."
" Nonsense," said Fred, " mine '11 fit him."
" True," said the General, " they may be considered open
to that objection."
" Ain't these clothes rather large 1" asked the padre,
in bad Spanish, and a misgiving tone, as he cast his eye
upon the baggy-looking cast-offs of Jackson.
" Large !" said Fred, "just wait till you're full-rigged —
large — well done — pretty fair."
"But," said the padre, " they look so "
" Wait till the pillows are in, and you'll see," said Fred.
Fred had by this time got the church dignitary into shirt,
drawees, and stockings, and now proceeded to apply two
pillows to his lank frame in order to make Jackson's gar-
ments stick, as he observed.
" Is this the way people wear their clothes in America ?"
inquired the padre.
" Of course it is," said Fred. " Now, then, my boy, raise
your leg a little — so, now the other," and the ordinarily black-
robed official was encased, so far as his nether extremities
went, probably for the first time in his life, in a pair of
striped trowsers,
"Shall we furnish him with a waistcoat?" asked Fred.
" There is my old mouse-colored velveteen," observed Jack-
son, " if that would be appropriate for him."
THE PADRE. 115
" Oh, quite so," said Fred, and the mouse-colored velve-
teen was brought forth and donned.
" And now for the coat," said Fred.
The coat was likewise adapted without difficulty, and the
priest stood before us, a very fat man in his paunch and rear,
but with extraordinarily thin extremities. His head looked
like that of a man who had lost his own and was trying on
several, and having pitched upon one which did not accord
at all with his general appearance, was keeping it on a mo-
ment just for the fun of the thing. His trowsers being too
short in the legs and his coat as much too scanty in
the sleeves, displayed to full view his meagre wrists and
ankles, which, taken in connexion with his general wooden
appearance, made one almost think him to be an image which
had Somehow been exposed in the nightrtime, and for whose
dilapidated extremities the rats were answerable. The mat-
ter of the ankles, however, was remedied by Fred, who
enticed the unwary padre into a pair of Jackson's high
boots, leaving a portion of the striped trowsers inside of the
same. Nothing was now wanting but a hat. Two were pro-
duced, or rather one hat, and one cap. The hat was of a
dirt color, whether originally so or not I cannot say, of -^
low round top and broad brim, a Id California^ The cap
was a thin one, of a light-colored cloth, and of the style
denominated " skull." The hat was decided on as the most
appropriate, and the padre's costume was complete.
I have been thus particular in describing the making up
of this ghostly functionary on this occasion, because in
a quiet, humorous way, it was equal to anything I had lately
seen. The idea of this bundle of dry bones in the shape of
an old Spanish padre being clothed in baggy striped
trowsers and a bottle-green coat of the latest Newmarket
cut with metal buttons : why the little incident of Mr. Sleek
116 LIFE O.V THE ISTHMUS.
of the " Serious Family" being invited out to have " a jolly
good time," by Captain Maguire, was nothing to it.
But to shorten this lengthy narrative of a very trifling
incident, I will just add, that the padre, not being accustom-
ed to his new suit, fell in getting down stairs, and took an
internal application of brandy and water for his bruises,
after which he sallied forth to look up a boat to take him to
the other side. Misfortune does not always command the
deference which is its due. As the padre left the hospitable
establishment of General Jackson, I am compelled to say, as
a faithful delineator of facts, that quite a concourse of those
boys, before alluded to, as having probably been educated
near the Bowery, received him with shouts bordering on
derision, accompanied with such observations as : " Halloa,
old gal, you round again !" " I say, Friar Tuck, hold on a
bit, I want to confess." " When is the next cock fight ?"
" Come on, old lady, take my arm," and many another of
the same elevated tone.
" Speaking of blacklegs," said Tom to me that evening,
as we were sitting together after a very promiscuous dinner,
" you should have seen the old priest to-day when he came
across. Such a figure I"
" How was he dressed, Tom 1"
" Dressed ! Well, he had on a trotting coat and wore his
trowsers inside of his boots, a C;ilifornia hat — and let me
see — yes, a money belt strapped round his waist, with a din-
ner knife stuck in behind." (This last item was an embel-
lishment of Tom's.)
" Well, if the clothes fitted—"
" Oh, they were a capital fit ; but .it^uichovv the priest was
considerably swollen. I should think he had eaten a peck
of dried apples for breakfast, and done nothing but drink all
the morning. Then he was so solemn under it all."
THE PADRE. Ill
" Well, Tom, what happened ?"
" Why, just after he landed, he met a troop of his apostles
going in sheets and lighted candles to do what the doctors
had not quit« finished with a sick Frenchman, a few doors
above here. The priest wanted to beg oft", but it was no
use, go he must, and just as he stood ; it was great to see
him."
'• And I suppose they finished the man at once ?"
" No, they didn't : it appears that the Frenchman, seeing
the priest on such a regular time, came to the conclusion that
there was something worth living for, after all, and has been
getting better ever since."
" Now, Tom, what should you say if I should tell you that
water — nothing but water — was the cause of that strange
metamorphosis in the priest's costume ?"
" Well," answered Tom, thoughtfully, " I suppose that I
should have to believe you, but I would much rather that
you wouldn't test my powers of credulity exactly in that
wav."
118 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
CHAPTER XI.
DKVELOPMEXTS.
THERE was nothing particular to detain us at Chagies ;
and so on the morning after our return from our hoot-
less tramp in the woods (it was literally such to poor Allen),
Tom and I crossed the river to arrange for havges to take the
camels and ourselves to Gorgona, It was a fortunate cir-
cumstance for us that no steamers were in at the time and
none expected for some days, and we were on tliat account
enabled to obtain conveyance at a comparatively reasonable
\\. rate. Still the expense was enormous. But the gentleman
'^vith whom we engaged was a dashing sort of speculator,
and made the payment of our freight so very accommodating
that we felt ourselves particularly lucky again in falling in
with him. Poor fellow, he is since dead, and his partner
likewise. He had buffeted the rude world long and bravely
in many another wild spot, and had come to Cliagres for
liis death wound. I fancy it was a certain rough chivalric
idea of being the topmost hero somewhere, that had brought
liim hither. But however that may be, he did us a good
turn, and lie will sleep none the less lightly m his grave for
that.
We engaged six barges for our camels and one for our-
'' selves and luggage, and completed our arrangements for
taking a fresh start p.arlv next morning, by which means, the
DEVELOPMENTS. 119
proprietor of the barges informed us, \vc would reacli Dos
Hermanos by night-fall.
Tom and I then went round to the Empire City Hotel, to
inquire after our old friends. We had been away from the
American Chagres only two days ; but two days in Chagres
are equal to — what shall I say ? — often to years in other
places, so suddenly are great changes there wrought ; and
these two days of our absence had been by no means deti-
cient in incident.
Whom should we behold on turning the corner but the
veritable Quanto Valley himself, seated upon the piazza of
the hotel, with his hat off, his chair slightly tilted backward,
his legs reposing upon a second chair, and himself employed
mechanically in picking his teeth, while he evidently revolved
something in his mind to his entire satisfaction.
•' Mr. Vale," said I, grasping his hand cordially, " how are
things, my dear fellow ^"
'' Ah !" exclaimed he, on recognising us ; " so you are
back already. Well, I am not the man to make a person
feel unpleasantly by alluding to any little failure he may
liappen to have made, by an error in his calculations, although
you will recollect that I — "
" Oh, perfectly," said I, smiling ; " but where is Parkins f
" Ah, true, Parkins — well, Parkins is sick, and there's no
knowing where he'd ha' been by this time, if it hadn't ha"
been for me."
" Hovering about his couch like a ministering angel,"
observed Tom, poetically.
" And where is Parkins now ?" inquired I ; for it did not
seem to agree with the fitness of things that Vale should be
enjoying such excessive complacency, while Parkins might
be writhing with pain — perhaps dying alone, in agony of
soul.
120 LIFE UN THE ISTHMUS.
''Well, just uow," replied Vale, "Parkins is up stairs ia
the room occupied by young Vitti before the blow-up here."
" What blow up ?"
" Why, the great affair of the day — the elopement — the
murder. Why, I tell you what ; there's the material here
for a whole fashionable romance, in six volumes. I have
half a njind to write it out myself. What do publishers — "
" Nonsense, man ; what are you talking of? Have Angelo
Vitti and his sister actually left this house ?"
" Of course they have."
" And who is the present landlord V
" I am."
*' Now, come. Vale, my good fellow ; I am greatly inte-
rested in this matter. Sit down here, and tell me all about
it. Vitti has gone, eh ?"
" Yes, Vitti has gone. But, to begin at the beginning, the
same day that you left, Vitti's sister — that young girl, you
recollect, that nursed the Purlevous Count, after he was
fished out of the water by Vitti — well, she was missing. She
was away from the house the whole day. Vitti was dread-
fully troubled about it ; for she wasn't used to be off by her-
self, and never without his knowledge. Nobody could
explain anything about it. That same night, after dark,
Parlevous, he gets a canoe, takes his saddle-bags with him,
and oft" he goes to join her at some rendezvous agreed upon."
" Stop ; how do you know that ?"
"Why, they didn't go together."'
" But how do you know that there was an understanding
between them as to eloping in this way ?"
'' I guess there's no otlier way of accounting for it."
" Go on." ,
" Yesterday morning, when Vitti found this out, he lashed
round in great style. I thought he was crazy. Nothing
DEVELOPMENTS. 121
would do but he must have a boat, and go in pursuit ; and
he swore a terrible oath, that if any wrong had been done to
his sister by old Parlevous, he'd have his heart's blood, if
he swung for it ; which he wouldn't be likely to do down
here. Hark ! there's Parkins up."
" Never mind Parkins ; go on with your story."
" But I was to have bled Parkins when he woke."
" Let his blood alone, and take care that you don't commit
murder. Go on with your story, sir."
"Let's see. I was telling you that Vitti was off after
them. It seems that he overtook them at Dos Hermanas —
that is, he didn't find his sister, but he found Parlevous, and
was so enraged to think that his sister had been made away
with, that he murdered him on the spot. That was last
evening. A boat left soon after, and arrived here this
morning with the news."
" A very likely story, Mr. Vale !"
" You don't believe it, then 1"
*' Precious little of it."
" But you believe that the Count is dead ?"
"Yes.'"'
" And that Vitti killed him 1"
"No."
" Well, you believe that Carlotta Vitti has run away 1"
"Yes."
" And that she eloped with the Count ?"
" No."
" Well, I have told you all I know about it. Now, I must
go and doctor Parkins."
" Stop a moment. Where is your friend, the snake man 1"
" Devil knows, perhaps — I don't."
" Go ahead ; I'll be with you in a moment."
Here was a pretty batch of developments, strung together
6
122 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
at rather short notice. Something of all this I had expected,
but certainly not to this extent. Why, it was like the at-
mospheric freaks at Chagres. At one moment, the softest,
balmiest sunshine ; and the next, a black, cloud-walled arch,
and the most terrible lightning and thunder. I breathed
short under the influence of it ; I knew not what to think.
As for action, I was powerless to move. That there was
some great mistake somewhere, I was perfectly satisfied ;
but what was it ? How could it be brought to light and
cleared up ?
While my mind was staggering under this load of doubt
and mystery, and I was fairly working myself into a fever, in
attempting to get at some satisfactory interpretation, I
heard the voice of Vale, calling upon us to come up stairs.
We immediately obeyed, and there was Parkins in a long
nightshirt, shivering and sallow, sitting upon the sofa, with
his feet in a bucket of water. It was evident that his feeble
show of opposition to his old partner had all faded out,
under the influence of the fever, and he regarded Vale with
the querulous respect which a sick child evinces towards its
nurse.
" What is this. Parkins ?" said I cheerily, by way of raising
his spirits ; " a little under the weather, eh ?"
" Sick," said Parkins, in a feeble, melancholy tone, " very
sick."
"And what is this operation of soaking the feet for,
Vale?"
" That's to relieve his head," answered Vale ; " I gave him
physic yesterday to relieve his bowels, and am going to bleed
him directly to relieve his system generally."
" And you're in a fair way to relieve him of his system
altogether, Vale."
" I think I know something about doctoring," replied Vale,
DE VELOPMEN TS. 1 2 ;5
indignantly ; " didn't I have fourteen men with me on board
of tlie steamer from New York — men that I was taking to
Cahforniaon shares, and paying their passage through — and
didn't I preserve tliem all in an excellent state of health by
doctoring."
" Yes," said Parkins, with a faint smile, for even in his
great debility he could not resist the opportunity to make a
point against Vale ; " you doctored them rather too much for
your own interest. You see," — continued Parkins, turning
towards Tom and myself, " Vale used to give these men bit-
ters three times a day, an hour before each meal, and being-
steerage passengers, they could not get enough at table to
satisfy their appetites after this extra sharpening, and so made
an agreement for additional board with the cook, at the rate
of four dollars per week, Avhich of course Vale had to pay ?"
" And what has become of those fourteen men ?" inquired
Tom.
" Vamosed," said Vale laconically, to whom the subject
was an unpleasant one.
" Now, see here, Vale," said I, to bring the subject back to
the starting point, " the course you are pursuing with Par-
kins will certainly result in his death. Just for once allow
rae to know more than you can be expected to. This man
has got chills and fever, his liver is torpid, and requires some
active medicine to rouse it to a healthy state, after which a
few doses of quinine will effectually break up his fever, and
if he behaves himself in future, he may go on his way re-
joicing. But I do not undertake to prescribe. My friend
Dr. G , who is very successful in his treatment of these
cases, will soon put him all right ; whereas if you persist in
your treatment, you will kill him."
" Very well," said Vale, who indeed was easily persuaded
into anything, " you may call your friend the doctor. As
124 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
landlord of this hotel, I have about as much as I can attend
to, any how."
Parkins brightened up amazingly, as much from seeing
his old partner and adversary put down, as from a prospect
of getting actual relief in a legitimate way. Shortly after
I met Doctor G , and first receiving from him a confir-
mation of Vale's developments, I dispatched him to the rescue
of Parkins, which I am happy to be able to say, he accom-
plished in a few days.
During the remainder of that day and evening, I staggered
about like a man who, having eyes, saw not. I was com-
pletely bewildered by the news which I had heard. If this
Marquis de G was murdered, and there were reasonable
grounds for suspecting Vitti, I was not so sure of bis not
swinging for it, as Vale seemed to be. At Chagres people
act mostly from personal feeling or impulse, upon which there
is no counting with any certainty as to results. But that
frail and delicate girl, one half of whose thoughts and
afiiections were in Heaven, and the other half occupied with
the holiest duties of earth, who was not, I was sure, a guilty
party in this strange aft'air — what had become, or what would
under any supposable circumstances become of her ?
CHAGRES RIVER. 125
CHAPTER XII.
CHAGRES RIVER.
A BRIGHT, sunshiny morning ; fresh, dewy, breezy, but
especially sunshiny. The ripples of the lazy old river
were bright and merry in the warm, clear beams of the
morning sun ; the banks of the river, in their evergreen
garb, were laughing through the tears of last night's dew,
and thrusting forward bouquets of the most gorgeous flowers,
some of them golden-hued as the sun himself — their tribute
to his loving majesty. The early birds were all cawing, chir-
ruping, and twittering, for his first beams had penetrated their
little hearts, and made them beat thus audibly for joy — and
certainly there was sunshine in our hearts too, as we floated
so luxuriously along, with the bending river beckoning us
forward by new beauties at every turn ; and the cool sea-
breeze chasing us astern, while the tide, setting inward, did
all the work of our journey, and we had a pleasant suspicion
that the dipping oars was a mere accompaniment thereunto.
Sunshine in our hearts, I say, for I am sure it was reflected
plainly enough outwardly upon our faces, as we sailed so
blithe and merrily up the Chagres river.
Morning on the rivtr ! It was as fresh and vivid in its
coloring, as if that very morning was the first since the
world rose up purified from the deluge. Its breath was as
pure and sweet as if the forgiving angel had but just then
breathed over it, while he pronounced its future everlasting
126 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
exemption from the external visitings of its Creator's wrath.
There is no land — only trees, and creeping vines, and long
wavang streamers, and strangely twisted boughs, that seem to
have root nowhere, but in a grotesquely sportive mood, to
have flung themselves into the heaps of verdure, and there
lain saucily ever afterwards ; and such great hanging bunches
of the misletoe and inoss, with red and yellow leaves of
flowers, asking only such a little place to look up from
towards the sun. And overhead there is no sky, but a
deep sea of ever-deepening azure, where the lordly sun him-
self, without whose presence this world of beauty would not
care to put on its richest charms, is floating serenely upward.
And we feel our divinity stirring within us, for at our will
we move onward, and leave behind us this other form of
God, which has no will or power to follow. Truly, if in
crowded cities man feels so bitterly his miserable insignifi-
cance, here in the plenitude of nature's realms, where his
heart beats full and responsive to every breath of her ex-
quisite harmony, and his eye gives beauty to her every
feature, and yet his will is there to say how long this dal-
liance shall last ; here he feels that there is nothing wanting
but a child-like obedience and faith, to become so very
great — almost a part of God, and accept the earth, even as
it was meant to be his to beautify, and love, and bless.
The picture of that morning on the river is painted in
unfading colors, and framed and hung away in one of the
chambers of my memory, and I shall never look upon it but
with pleasant associations. Hour after hour rolled languidly,
but not heavily away, and still we floated onward. The
first flush of excitement passed off", and we saw things in a
clearer point of view. There we were, creeping along, our
seven barges close up under the left bank of the river, some-
times even shooting in beneath the over-reaching branches
CHAGHES RIVER. 127
of great trees, and sailing for a rod or two, as it Avere, in the
shadow of a rustic arbor, and a moment afterwards obhged
to sheer out towards the middle of the stream, to- avoid some
decayed and fallen trunk. There was a presentiment in our
minds, too, as of another boat skirmishing on our right
flank, now dashing by us at an alarming rate, and now drift-
ing like a log, and allowing us to come up with it — a huge
canoe manned by natives, and freighted as it seemed to us
with our old comrades — Judge Smithers, Colonel Allen,
J^onsieur Crapolet, and Thorn (for it seemed that Mr. Arthur
Orrington was somehow not amongst them). Between this
boat and ours there was quite a frequency of communication.
Articles of trifling value, such as eggs, oranges, and the like,
were occasionally thrown to and fro ; but the great feature
in this friendly intercourse seemed to be the passing of a
bottle, attached to the end of a stick, which idea I think
originated with the other boat, and which, however incon-
venient it at first appeared, was attended with very cheerful
results. There was, likewise, a suspicion in our minds that
one of the native boatmen, in the other boat, who had, in
the excitement of the moment, so far forgot himself as to
take off" his shirt, was uttering something every now and
then, which he meant for music. It would have been very
dreadful at any other time, but we were all so pleasantly
disposed that we merely stopped our ears and laughed, and
tried to think of something else. After the gymnastic ex-
ercise of the bottle had been gone through with to consider-
able extent, the Colonel in the other boat made himself
rather disagreeable, by shouting at intervals, each time in a
difi'erent tone of voice, " Go it, ye camels !" evidently con-
founding that expression in his mind with the popular
phrase of " go it, ye cripples."
Noon came. It was hard now to avoid the sun's search-
128 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
mg glances, though we crept ever so close under the river's
bank. Alligators were now and then seen stretched sleepily
out to bask, in his beams ; and once we saw a cold, slimy-
looking serpent come up out of the water and go winding
and twisting in among the mangrove bushes of the shore.
Ugh 1 how loathsome and snaky did he look. We began
to be tired of sitting so long in our boat, although there was
often a breeze which, sweeping over the river, and whistling
in beneath our awning, caused a delicious coolness. About
the middle of the forenoon we had passed a bit of a clearing
where were a few native ranches, and a row of cocoa-nut
trees on the river's margin ; but we did not go on shore
there, although the occupants of the otlier boat did, and
Colonel Allen was a shade more boisterous afterwards. The
conduct of Monsieur Crapolet during that morning reminded
me of Major Monsoon in Charles O'Malley, and " what be-
tween a little sleep and a little something to drink," I have
no doubt that the time passed very pleasantly with him.
V AH of a sudden we found ourselves at Gatun, a filthy, insig-
nificant little hamlet of some half a hundred huts. Here we
disembarked, and having picked our w-ay up the bank, and
selected a vacant lot. Monsieur Crapolet and Thom set to
work installing the cooking-stove and its never-fiuling ac-
companiment, the black curtain.
" Gatun," said Colonel Allen, whom we found planted in
about the centre of the place with his hands in his pockets,
repeating to himself^ as if reading from a geographical school-
book ; " a small village situated on the banks of Chagres
river, famous for the healthy state of the vegetation by
•which it is surrounded."
And the Colonel had got its measure pretty correctly. I
am not aware that there is any particular department of
industry in which its inhabitants excel, except that of smok-
CHAGRES RIVER. 129
ing. All who were not cooking or eating, were smoking
during our stay, at all events ; but it may be that they never
work laboriously during the heat of the day. The interior
of their huts was very similar to those of Chagres, a box or
two less, perhaps, in proportion to the number of persons to
sit down, a greater quantity of jerked beef strung along
under the eaves, some bunches of corn, a hammock, a couple
of dry hides, a shelf containing bottles and small glasses, an
iron kettle on the ground tioor, a notched pole for a stair-
case to the attic chambers, a boat j^addle or two, several
piccaninnies of both sexes in a state of blissful nudity, from
one to half-a-dozen women in white cotton dresses, profusely
adoa-ned with ruffles and flounces, and a full-grown member
of the male sex, the extreme scantiness of whose attire re-
minded one of the costume of a Georgia Major — " a shirt
collar and a pair of spurs."
There was a sprinkling of domestic animals about the set-
tlement : a few cows, several raw-looking pigs, and an end-
less quantity of hairless dogs, for, as Tom maliciously ob-
served, no Connecticut provision dealer had as yet thought
it worth his while to estabHsh a factory at that place. There
was an American hotel at Gatun, in the outskirts of the town,
above us on the river, which hotel was a piece of tarred can-
vas set up on poles. There was a tree in front, and the un-
fortunate proprietor had caused a large lantern to be rigged
thereunto, which he was in the habit of illuminating at night,
as a kind of ignis fataus for imwary travellers. About ton
people could stand in the shade of this tent when the sun was
not directly overhead ; but during a heavy rain, I think not
more than half that number could find protection. This was
the only house of consequence in the place.
We had quite a laugh at a little incident which occurred
as we were on our way back to dinner, in which Colonel
6*
130 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
Allen was one of the performers. A particularly stupid-
looking native, who was sitting at the door of a ranche, and
had been for some time regarding us all in a sleepy sort of
way, at length rose and made his way towards Allen, as if
he had been revolving some enterprise in his mind, and had
finally pitched upon his man. By a variety of energetic
signs, he gave Allen to understand that he wished to
see him at his house. We all accompanied the Colonel,
prepared to stand by him to the last. The native entered first,
and going to a corner of the room, produced an umbrella, a
very shaky and shabby affair, which he exhibited to the
Colonel, making signs for him to open it, and repeating
eagerly " no quiera comprar ? no quiera comprar ?" " The
subscriber" was quite dumb-foundered. Even the native saw
in him the unmistakable signs of a dilapidated gentleman.
That particular umbrella alone was wanting to complete the
picture.
Afternoon, and again upon the river. Hour after hour,
floating amid the same wealth of vegetation, but in how
many thousand difterent forms. And the sun — what a
frisky sun he was during that afternoon — now right ahead,
settling gradually down behind a high mountain, now
on our right hand, again on our left, and pretty soon looking
straight at our boat's stern, from above a broad range of forest
directly in our wake. We had a small shower of rain
towards sundown, and the refreshed air with which every
leaf, and shrub, and tree within sight, lifted up its head, and
stood erect afterwards, made me think of a great caravan or
a vast army in the desert, worn, and dusty, and ready
to feiint, coming suddenly to quench their thirst at an oasis.
There was the same marked appearance of relief and elasti-
city in every minutest part as in the general whole.
And at length twilight came, and we were still upon the
C HAG RES RIVER. 131
Mver. The sun was already gone down, and the river and
its banks wore a darkened melancholy aspect. We rolled
up our awning, and watched from afar the coming of
the starry evening. The air was getting heavy with the
night dew, and it was quite cosy and comfortable to draw
out our greatcoats and shawls for protection from it. A
different species of birds from those we saw in the
morning, were now heard warbling among the bushes ; but
when one flew across the stream, we could only see its
graceful winged form, but nothing of its variegated plumes.
And as the darkness deepened, the lesser lights of heaven
began to twinkle over-head, and the broad river looked black
except where at times there w^as a silvery ripple on its
bosom, and the sea of foliage on either side was a dark
rolling mass. Often it looked as if we were approaching the
termination of the stream, for the banks ahead seemed
to meet, as if it were an inland lake on which we sailed,
until we reached the next sharp bend, when lo 1 a long
stretch of dark silent water, terminating as before in a
sombre and apparently impassable wall.
It was real comfort to see the Major during that day's
sail. One could not help feeling some eftects of the enthu-
siasm which momentarily broke away from him, enveloping
him as in a magnetic sphere. He knew every winged form
that presented itself to our view, though many of them he
doubtless saw for the first time. And while he revelled in
intense appreciation of each and all of those glorious expres-
sions of mother nature, his little wife, with her inspired pencil,
fastened them, all aglow as they were with verdant and rosy
life, upon the pages, to which, " in after years, if solitude, or
fear, or pain, or grief, should be his portion,"' he might turn
tor sweetest consolation.
A splash in the water alongside of the other boat, and
132 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
almost instantaneously afterwards a much heavier splash, and
the huge black canoe has ceased its progress, allowing us
to come alongside.
" What's broke ?" inquired Tom.
" This miserable sinner of a Frenchman," replied Colonel
Allen, in a thick tone of voice, suggestive of " railroad-pud-
ding" or " steerage-fare," " by his awkward manner of
assuaging the pangs of thirst, has knocked one of the sub-
scriber's pistols into the river."
" The sulscriber," be it here remarked, had been some-
what more quiet vocally, since leaving Gatin, but had
acquired instead a very unpleasant as well as dangerous
habit of discharging his pistols about every other minute. It
appeared that the second plunge was taken by one of the
native boatmen diving after the lost weapon, which he pre-
sently reappeared with, and we continued our journey.
About an hour afterwards, on turning a bend in the river,
■we saw looming through the darkness on our left hand,
another of those great delusive lanterns, which intimated
that another American hotel was somewhere in the vicinity.
This place, which contained likewise several native ranches,
and had quite steep and slippery banks, was Dos Hermanas,
distant from Chagres about twenty miles.
The other boat was in before us. When we had landed,
I noticed that Colonel Allen and Monsieur Crapolet remain-
ed on board of their craft, and that the latter gentleman was
stretched at full length upon the baggage, apparently taking
a little repose, while the former leaned upon his arm, and in
a confused kind of way appeared to be looking about in
quest of adventures.
" Asleep ?" said I, pointing to Monsieur Crapolet. " No,"
replied Colonel Allen, " knocked down by a squall ; the
subscriber, ditto — can you lend the aforesaid half a dollar V*
Alas ! &c.
DOS HERMAN AS. 133
CHAPTER XIII.
DOS HERMANAS.
CHAGRES fever is the meanest of all diseases. At least
so said Tom, on the evening of our arrival at Dos Her-
manas, and as he was, at the time, fairly in its clutches,
his observation on the subject ought certainly to be entitled
to credit. No sooner were we arrived under the canvas of
the American Hotel, and seated on the empty candle and
claret boxes which served in lieu of chairs at that establish-
ment, than the premonitory chill began. At the same time
a perfect torrent of water descended, beating furiously upon
our roof, as if the Isthmus, and especially that part of it
known as Dos Hermanas, had somehow been overlooked in
the post-diluvian promise that the world should be destroyed
by flood no more.
We were as yet supperless. Storm and darkness were
reigning out of doors, that is figuratively out of doors, but
really all around us, for the four tallow candles which stood
upon the board at the bar, and the other board where a re-
past was to be served for us, gave out just glimmer enough to
enlighten us vaguely as to our miserable position. All of us
were tired, chilled and wet ; separated from our boats by a
blind, slippery path, and one of us with the Chagres fever. A
truly delightful situation ! Who wouldn't be weary of the mo-
notonies of home when such piquant adventures can be had at
almost any time of year, after only ten days' steaming from
New York !
134 LJFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
But as I was saying Cbagres fever is the meanest of
diseases. It has a sly, snaky way of making its approaches,
and falls upon one at last like a serpent, enveloping and
crushing him in its cold, sweaty folds. It makes a man feel
pitifully mean, crouching under his blankets, and drawing
towards the fire like an antiquated hulk, or to use another
phrase of Tom's, " like a sick kitten to a hot brick." It is in
one respect like sea-sickness or ghosts, no one believes in it
till it touches him with its chilly finger. It lays its hand
upon him, and how far oft' and unattainable seem the prizes
of life, the pomp and honors of the world ! He feels as if he
had been guilty of turpitude to allow himself to be caught
thus, and forced to be a sluggard, while others are so bravely
at work all around. He is like a wounded man on the field
of battle, turned over to the care of old women, while his
gallant comrades press on and bear away the palm.
Tom's case, however, was a very light one, and it is due
to him to say that he bore the affliction like a philosopher.
We wrapped him well in blankets, and placed him upon the
second cot of a tier which were planted in the rear of the
bar, in order that the first might get the primary advantage
of the drops of rain which trickled through the roof. He
observed ])leasantly, as we left him for a moment to take
some refreshment, that when his tea was ready he would
have it hot and without milk. This idea of Tom's was not
original. He obtained it from a work entitled "A Guide
across the Isthmus of Panama," wherein, among other
things, the author perpetrates a cruel joke in advising all
emigrants to California to abstain from milk while crossing
the Isthmus. I wonder that this imaginative writer did not
likewise caution them against too free an indulgence in por-
ter-house steaks or nightingales' tongue?.
The reader will be pleased to imagine us at table in the
DOS HERMANAS. 135
dining-hall of this American Hotel. The board has been
removed down towards the lee side, and the rain which beats
in through and under the canvas to windward, is only dis-
agreeable to us from the fact that it has caused a large
puddle of water to locate in the immediate neighborhood
of our feet. But what care we for the howling storm with-
out, while seated at the festive board, spread with all the
luxuries and delicacies of the season, ham, beans, salt mackerel,
certain messes suggestive of a previous repast, resembling in
the fragmentary parts of which they are made up what
sailors term " lobscouse" and " dundy funk," and for vegetables
and bread, what the same roving and rough-spoken class
call, " hard tack I" In the way of drink, a very bitter and
black kind of cofiee, and a scurvy mixture which I think the
middle-aged gentleman Avho waited upon us said was tea,
although the question had not been asked by any one. The
appearance of the cloth made one think that parties who
liad been used to the plains and did not understand the
relative position of the plates, and knives, and forks, to the
food before them, had been along that way, and kept up their
old bivouacking habits. But I do not recollect that we saw
anything worthy of remark in all this, and I don't think we
should, if in lieu of half a score of pigs which navigated
quite freely among the shoals of our legs, there had been the
same quantity of tapirs. The truth of the matter is, that our
moist and steaming condition was highly favorable to the
generation of appetite, and without any unseasonable display
of fastidiousness we drew up our candle-boxes and fell to,
men, women, and children. I remember now that one of
the ladies, on elevating a dish towards her olfactories, was
rebuked by the middle-aged gentleman in attendance, who
observed that they did not keep a Graham hotel, and the
victuals were placed there to be eaten and not smelt of.' I
136 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
cannot now say as to whether this remark M'as made crustily
or humorously.
When we had finished eating, it seems as if I ought to
say when we had been sufficiently fed, we began gradually
to realize that it had cleared off ; we" drew out towards an
opening in the canvas, and lo ! a picture of serenest, freshest
beauty met our view ; those primeval forests on the further
bank, rising up from their bath in the clear moonshine, and
the river, not dark and sombre now, but circling and wind-
ing in among the nooks and bends, like a silvery band of
vapor, such as one often sees near the base of mountains in the
early dawn ; while around us at Dos Hernianas, the cleared
bluff with its rounded embankments, and its venerable
mango and cocoa-nut trees, scattered in little groups upon
its surface, was just one of those charming spots where old
Kit North would have delighted to come and lie down in at
the gloaming ; and above us, what troops of stars were
clustered at their posts, while the rising moon came slowly
, up, filling the whole heavens with their glistening presence,
save where here and there " a sable cloud" was seen to " turn
forth its silver lining on the night ;" the very air partook of
the genial spirit of the scene, and was odorous with the
tribute of flowers and blossoms far beyond our ken. It was
a scene to arouse none but good and tranquillizing emotions,
and yet here, as we had been told, with these very surround-
ings, only two evenings jjrevious, revenge had wrought out
its hellish purpose in the murder of a brother.
We were shown the place where the deed was done — a
native hut, a few rods from our hotel. We were further in-
formed by our middle-aged gentleman that the murderer had
been taken there, sitting beside the corpse and asking frantically
of the lifeless clay for his sister, who was supposed to have
left Chagres in company with him who was now no more ;
DOS HERMANAS. 137
that he had gone ofl' passively with the party who arrested
him, and neither avowed nor denied the act. We inquired if
the French gentleman who had been murdered had anything
of much value about his person, but our informant was not
able to enlighten us upon that subject. He had no doubt
of Villi's guilt — not a bit of it, there was no one else about
except a friend of the deceased, who had been the means of
arresting Vitti, and had accompanied him back to Chagres.
So much for the report of our middle-aged gentleman, who,
like most of our acquaintances of that period, is now himself
defunct.
I might go on to describe our visit to the Frenchman's
rude grave, where he lay, poor fellow, far enough away from
his ancestral halls ; but, to confess the truth, I am a little
ashamed of my murder scene ; and were it not that, as a
faithful delineator of facts, I have felt myself bound to intro-
duce it, should have cautiously avoided it altogether. It
may be, even now, that some hypercritical reader may credit
the writer's fancy with this portion of his narrative ; for,
since the moment when the English Opium Eater classed
murder as among the Fine Arts, it is unfortunately associated
in the minds of many with something like romance.
And now that I am upon this subject, I will further say,
■what I omitted in its j^roper place, that on that same morn-
ing when our barges were rowing out from the muddy stream
that flows by Chagres, on its southern boundary, we observed
a crowd of people collected about the house of the Consul
on the American side, and learnt, upon inquiry, that Vitti
was there in custody, having been brought down the river
on the evening previous. I felt the mean sensation of a man
deserting a friend in need, when I sufiered our barge to pro-
ceed up the stream without a word of protest. Perhaps to
my intense desire to help him, I had no idea how ; and to
138 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
unravel something of this hon-ible mystery, t'ur my own satis-
faction, may be attributed, in part at least, the expedition
which I shortly afterwards undertook. And now to my
nan-ative again.
Tom was progressing beautifully with his affair ; the chill
was off, and he was in a charming state of fever. The Major
and I held a consultation together, and we came to the con-
clusion to treat him allopathically with calomel and quinine;
although the Major, when the proper leisure and appliances
were at hand, was most decidedly hydropathic.
" There is one difficulty in the way," said I — '' we have no
medicine."
" Perhaps the proprietor has some," suggested the Major.
No ; he denied the charge emphatically ; although I have
no doubt that he had a lai'ge quantity, but had no idea of
allowing the fact to become public. I was sure that the
other boat had none without asking, as its passengers kept
themselves in a wholesome state of preservation by quite
another method.
While we were talking on this subject, and Tom was
making believe that he was somewhere in a city where it was
a real pleasure to be ill, by asking one of us occasionally to
look out of the window, and tell him what was going on in the
street, and if the grocery store opposite and the apothecary's
on the corner were yet open, or to read him something funny
from the evening paper, a man came into the hotel, who
said, he was an express-man, and had arrived at Chagres at
about two P. M. in the steamship Falcon. lie also informed
the proprietor that the Falcon was to leave, on her return,
the next morning, at eight o'clock.
At this piece of information, the Major suddenly rose up,
and took me earnestly aside. " See here," said he, " it is a
fine night. Would it not be worth while for some of us to
DOS HERMAN AS. 139
return to Chagres, and provide ourselves Avith a stock of
medicine ? We can lie over here till to-morrow afternoon,
if required. This appears to be a ticklish climate, and there
is no calculating upon the health of any one. This, however,
is not the principal thing which I have to propose. Our
women folks, as you know, have already exceeded their
license in getting thus far on the Isthmus, the understanding
having been, all along, that they were to return home from
Chagres. Now, from what we have already seen, I am
satistied that this is no country for women and children to
enjoy themselves particularly in ; and if taken sick here, the
attentions which they will require will cramp our movements,
if no more serious results follow. I would therefore propose
that they go down to Chagres with one of us to-night, and
take passage on the Falcon, which, we learn, leaves early in
the morning. They will, no doubt, object quite resolutely ;
but it is their good as well as ours which demands it, as it
seems to me."
\MiHt one feels most strongly is not always most easily
described. I shall therefore pass over the discussion which
ensued upon this sudden but prudent proposition of the
Major's. There was considerable skirmishing in words half
playful, half earnest — perhaps, too, some tears ; but it was
finally settled. Our wills were forced to consent to what
circumstances made necessary, and the dear companions of
our previous toils and pleasures were to leave us. I was
appointed to accompany them, and see them safely embarked
on board the steamer, while the Major remained to take caro
of Tom.
The little business transaction which we soon afterwards
had with the characters of the other boat was by no means a
diflScult one. We were to have the native canoe for our
return to Chagres, and they were to come into our barge for
140 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
the remainder of the water route. "We accordingly made
the necessary transfer of baggage, under which head Monsieur
Crapolet was classed for the time being ; the natives not only
conseutiug to the exchange, but, having received half their
charter money in advance, and knowing that one steamer
was just arrived at Chagres, and another momentarily due,
for once in their lives rose superior to the " poco tiempo "
doctrine, and became quite efficient men.
I was a little amused at a characteristic remark of Allen's,
as he settled himself into the stern sheets of our barge.
" Well," said he, half sighing, with the air of an extremely
foggy philosopher, " variety is charming. When the sub-
scriber is at home, he always takes brandy and water in the
morning, with a bit of lemon and sugar in it, brandy punch
in the afternoon, and hot brandy punch in the evening."
A NIGHT ON THE RIVER. 141
CHAPTER XIV.
A NIGHT ON THE RIVER.
WHAT with " more last words," and good-byes, and God's
blessings called down in showers upon us all by turns,
and shifting of baggage, and sundry lockings round to see
that everything was right and nothing forgotten, it was near
midnight when we were quite ready. We had hardly got
adrift, when one of those pleasant little showers, so suggestive
of violets and columbines in our spring-time at home, came
pattering upon our boat and baggage, with a small sample
upon our own persons, for we were but partially protected
by an awning of palm leaves — and on the still, swift-running
river alongside. It was impossible to say where it came
from, for there was not a cloud in the star-studded sky, if we
except, indeed, a sort of fleecy gauze-like shadow of the same
which went drifting slowly by us overhead, just such an apo-
logy as one often sees during a long drought, when all signs
fail. Nevertheless, there was the positive fact — rain ; and
as we did not see the necessity of getting wet, though it was
done ever so mysteriously, we drew in alongside of a small
steamer which was puffing and blowing at the river's bank,
as if it had just arrived, and had had a hard time of it.
There was about the usual assortment of gold-seekers on
her quarter-deck, keeping guard over an immensity of what
the western people call " plunder," which was made up iu
this case of every variety of trunk, chest, bag, and box, with
142 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
not a few greasy-looking brown paper parcels, suggestive of
lunch. Contrary to the regulations of most steamers, "smok-
ing abaft the engine" was permitted on board of this boat,
and the atmosphere was quite hazy in consequence. There
were some muffled people in shawls and bonnets, dimly seen
amidst the clearings of the smoke, whom we should have
taken for women, had not their nether extremities been en-
cased in trowsers.
There was a group of Missourians, from Pike County,
gathered about the gangway, as we boarded, one of whom
was telling a story ; and a dapper little chap, with a profuse
gold watch-guard and very shiny hair, who might have been
a runner for somebody or something, appeared to take great
interest in what he said.
" Now," said the Missourian, " there was old Pillcott, and
he was another customer."
" Warn't he, though ?" said the dapper little chap, pre-
tending to know all about it ; " Billy Pillcott."
" No ; Jim," said the Missourian.
" Aye, true," said the dapper little chap, " Jim Pillcott."
Most of these people seemed to be well acquainted, and
called each other by nicknames ; some by the name of the
county they hailed from, prefixing the epithet " old " there-
unto, such as Old Pike, Old Clay, and so on ; others got
their title from some peculiarity of dress, and were vocife-
rously appealed to as " Bob-tail," " Yaller-breeches," or " Stee-
ple-crown." One poor fellow was quite unfortunate in his
sobriquet. He was a cadaverous- faced man, and sat a little
apart from the crowd, occupied in spreading the chest before
him with bread, cheese, and ham. When he had laid out
about a supply for three, he deliberately rolled up his sleeves,
brushed back his long loose hair, as if he were buttoning
back his ears, and prepared to fall to. This man was styled
A NIGHT ON THE RIVER. 143
by the crowd " Potatoe Parings," and during his repast was
frequently called upon "to throw himself away." "You
should have seen him' on board the steamer coming down,"
said one of his admirers to me ; " Lord, how he would eat ;
it was like loading a gun. When he came to be sea-sick
and throw up, we thought he would bust, and it was a won-
der that he didn't, for he was charged to the muzzle."
In the sternmost extremity of the deck was another group,
one of whom was explaining that he had just been robbed
of two hundred dollars in gold, and showed how it had been
cut out of his pocket ; and an excitement immediately sprang
np amongst his auditors for arresting somebody and charg-
ing them with the act ; and as nobody was at hand, suitable
for the purpose, but a poor deaf and dumb fellow, who
went by the appellation of Dummy, he was accordingly seized
upon, and would have been searched, notwithstanding his
piteous signs and cries, had not Judge Smithers, who was on
a stroll about the premises, followed by Colonel Allen, come
suddenly on board, and peremptoiily put a stop to it, while
the pugnaciously-disposed Colonel squared off in the back-
ground, and observed that " Providence had not prevented
the subscriber from dying of cholera two years previous, that
he might see a poor devil bamboozled in th(it style with im-
punity."
Some were card-playing, some betting heavily on a sweat
cloth, some indulging in an Ethiopian melody, one man cut-
ting out portraits in paper at a dollar a-piece, another deep
in the columns of the last Herald, and two or three eccentric
individuals vainly endeavoring to compose themselves
to sleep. It was a curious picture of life in the rough, just
•what some of the old Dutch painters would have delighted
to depict. The silence of the night, save for the pattering
rain drops ; the lonesoraeness of the place, which would have
144 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
awed to silence a smaller or less excitable party ; the gi-otesque
strangeness of this chance meeting of so many different cha-
racters, yet bound together by a secret chord of purpose and
sympathy ; the pale light of the moon, which, notwithstand-
ing the rain, lay in broad squares here and there upon the
deck, and was the only light by which the characters of
the piece were seen, all helped to give effect to the striking
picture.
As soon as the rain was over we were again adrift, float-
ing midway down the swift running current of the stream.
Its surface was by no means as smooth and tranquil as when
we ascended, for the heavy rains of the night had made it
swollen and rough, and in places where some tributary
mountain torrent came pouring headlong in, was quite dan-
gerous in its eddies. Nevertheless we floated rapidly along,
keeping near the middle of the stream, where we had none
of the counter current, and were not exposed to contact
with boats coming up the river. The clumps of thick grow-
ing trees, and bushes on the banks, wore altogether a new
and peculiar aspect. They took grand forms of wonderful
architecture — houses, castles, and broad-fronted palaces,
where the windows were the openings in their boughs,
through which the moonlight shone. At times there was a
long line of steep but level embankment, which looked like
the grim walls of a fort; and then came the houses, castles,
and palaces again. We discussed the beauties and merits of
each new style as it was revealed to us, and afterwards
wondered among ourselves as to the dwellers in these
strange dark habitations. We wondered, if in the silvery
light which pervaded those apartments and shone through
the windows, families were assembled in quiet comfort after
the rude day's toil ; if there was music and literature in those
unseen circles ; if little children sat on their father's knee
A NIGHT ON THE RIVER. 145
whiling away bis thoughts from the hard world ; if the light
and the fireside blaze — for it was chilly enough on the river
to make us think of that also — which had no ruddy glare in
them, but were cold and silvery, was on tlie whole as genial
and comfortable as what our memories kept note of two
thousand miles away ; if we should go up and knock at
the door whether they admit us, and whether they would
keep us standing in our dew-damp garments in the shivery
hall, or turn us over to the servants, or introduce us at once
to their own parlor, the more elderly looking affectionately
upon us, while the young should regard us as invested with
a species of romance, coming thus suddenly in upon them
from the rapid, swollen river — and each should vie with the
other to make us so very much at home.
Even while we were discoursing thus, and indulging our
playful fancies, into which, nevertheless, there was woven a
pensive half-melancholy thread, the heavy rain-clouds had
been gradually mustering in the sky, and the towers and
rounded domes and steeples of our imagined structures were
visibly losing their distinct outline. The surface of the river
seemed to have acquired a fresh liveliness, and the current
an accelerated course. We were now in danger of coming
suddenly upon some bigger boat, the shock of which in
meeting might upset us ; and the bare possibility of having
to struggle for life with those dark troubled waters, to reach
the banks only for a more fearful and loathsome struggle with
the alligators, snakes, or wild beasts of those parts, added
much to the chilly discomfort of our position. In order to
avoid this contingency our boatmen began to yell in
the most savage and uncouth manner, which made us think
that they had studied the music of the prowlers in the
woods, with whose howling voices they had probably been
familiar from childhood. Still we went on, our boatmen
146 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
pulling vigorously at their oars, in the hope of reaching
Gatun before the worst — while the heavens, and earth, and
"water darkened about us. Our helmsman, who was a tall,
gaunt native, of the true Ethiopian stamp, stood bolt upright
in the stern, jabbering long sentences in a spiteful manner,
as it seemed to us, at the oarsmen, at the close of each of
which they sent up the unearthly yell before alluded to.
And now the rain began, a few big drops first, and then,
as it were, a continuous sheet of water falling bodily from
the sky. In such a rain as this, on this very river, boats have
filled with water as caravans have been covered up by sand
in the desert, and gone down beneath its surface, and with
all their precious freight been heard of no more. God for-
J give us, we may fare no better. Our boatmen, however, are
K~ in no ways put out by it, but pull vigorously ahead, and
^ occasionally address themselves to us and say, " mucha
^agua," something in the same tone in which one observes at
home that it is a fine day. When we become very cold and
drenched, and are sure that we are all in the first stage of
Chagres fever, we ask them how much farther to Gatun, and
they invariably answer " poco tiempo." But the water con-
tinues to pour down, and there is already a foot of it in the
bottom of our boat, and we are soaked through, and our
feet and ankles feel as if made of wood, and our boatmen go
on howling, and the river goes on increasing every minute in
its rapid course, till we know for a certainty that if we should
strike a bigger boat, it will be all over with us — and still no
Gatun ! There was one boat which we passed lying under a
big tree by the river's bank, which showed a light, and hear-
ing the howls of our boatmen, hailed us to know if we were
going on. I answered "yes," and a minute afterwards they
hailed again to say that we were going doivn river, probably
thinking that we belonged to their party, and had somehow
A NIGHT ON THE RIVER. 147
got our boat twisted in the darkness. A moment or two
afterwards we saw Gatun.
There it was, quite another loohiiig phice from what it
was when we left it on the afternoon previous. It seemed as
if there were a thousand little dots of light, floating station-
ary in the darkness which enveloped it, and amongst them
all was a larger light, which we decided must emanate from
the lantern of the American hotel. Almost instantaneously
after the first appearance of these lights, we were there,
alongside of the bank, with some two score of boats on either
side, and such shouting, yelling, blowing of horns, and other
instruments, jabbering of natives, discharging of guns and
pistols in quite a promiscuous manner, barking of dogs, and
squealing of pigs, I never heard before. Truly, after our
lonesome sail upon the river, in " night, and storm, and
darkness," it was quite refreshing to feel ourselves again
surrounded by such an unterrified body of the sovereigns of
our native land. They made the old place redolent of
riotous life and fun. They were everywhere about the dig-
gings — smoking desperately in the i-ain half way up the
bank, taking drinks, and smoking in their boats ; others
strong in Goodyear and Mackintosh, preparing to go out
in quest of adventures, and inquiring of their neighbors in
the next boat, where was the best- quarter for door bells,
knockers, and barbers' poles ; others grouped in the vicinity
of the lantern, in front of the American house ; and others
still among the lesser lights, traffioking with the natives, or
bargaining for a night's lodging, in the apartments commu-
nicated with by the notched stick. There were, doubtless,
some there who wished themselves away, home again in the
quiet routine of their old life ; but if so, they were of a retir-
ing nature, and not noticed in the crowd who seemed bent
on having a good time at all hazards.
148 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
"^ House ahoy 1" sang out a big boat which had edged its
way into the bank, directly alongside of us, hailing the
lantern — " Any spare rooms ?"
■ " How many are there of you ?" replied a voice, which
was not that of the proprietor.
" About thirty."
" Wdl, we can accommodate you." There was a roar of
laughter followed, which we supposed was at this clever
imposition, but it appeared that it was at a man with an
umbrella, and a good deal of speculation was immediately
set on foot as to where he came from.
" Now, then, supper for thirty," sang out the same voice
from the adjoining boat, speaking again to the lantern.
" All right," returned the voice from the bank.
There were two Frenchmen in this boat, who were among
the last to leave her. One was a very fat man, and the
other a very thin one ; but they were equally unsuccessful in
getting up the w^et and slippery bank. After two or three
failures, they at length mutually agreed to try it together ;
so, locking arms, they once more started on their adventurous
course. They were nearly at the top, when they again
slipped and slid back to the bottom. " N'importe," said the
fat one, as they started afresh, " nous allons bien souper."
" Oui," replied the other, " nous allons bien souper."
And off they went again, to return in the same abrupt and
undignified manner. Poor devils, it w'as really too pitiable
to think of what a wretchedly defective reed their supper
was leaning upon. Every time they set off, it was with
the same promise to themselves of a good supper awaiting
them on the hill ; but at length they gave it up, and I
undertook to console them, by informing them of the true
state of affairs in that direction. This they were very glad to
believe, and had great sport over it. One of their party came
A NIGHT ON THE RIVER. 149
back soou after, and swore that there was nol a mouthful of
anything to eat in the place, and that the hotel was nothing
more nor less than a hydropathic institution, where they
charged two dimes for brandy and water, and threw in a
small douche gratis.
All this time it was still raining, and without any signs
of clearing up. It Avas out of the question for our women
folk to think of landing ; and except that we had plenty of
company (which, tlie old proverb tells us, misery loves), we
might about as well have been on our way down the river.
So, when our boatmen returned, fortified with a copious
quantity of aguardente, we acceded at once to their propo-
sition to proceed. I was fortunately successful in negotiating
with the supperless Frenchmen for a rubber cloth to cover
our awning with, a pile of blankets for the women and chil-
dren, and a bottle of Otard for myself, which appliances made
us a shade more comfortable, at all events.
Again we looked out upon the thousand dots of light, now
growing dim behind us, and heard more and more faintly
the boisterous uproar of the motley crowd we were leaving —
again we were alone with the river and the rain, with no
sound save its beating on the stream and its shores, and the
jabbering and howling of our boatmen, now more spirited
than ever. IIow lonesome we felt again ! There was some-
thing so chilling in the feeling, that we were actually alone
with tliat same dark, silent, seipentine river that had sent
desolation to many a hearthside afar, and was still flowing
on at our very side, as merciless and remorseless as ever.
A huge, lumbering, black-looking object, directly before
us, approaching us, nlniost upon us; and now a sonorous
voice from it, calling out, " Starboard your helm — starboard !"
which is answered by an increase of jabbering on the part
of our helmsman, and a multitude of carahos from the oars-
150 LIFE ON TH-E ISTHMUS.
men. It is alongside of us, and proves to be a large barge,
with some twenty or thirty passengers. As we rush by, it
gives us a parting lick on the larboard quarter, which has
no other efi'ect than to twist us a little out of our course, and
give a livelier zest to the carahos of our boatmen. It has
hardly got fairly by us, when a voice again comes from it,
inquiring if we will take "Brown" along with us, as he has
got enough of California, and wishes to return home ; which
cool proposition, as we have not previously known "Brown,"
and think it possible -that he may not prove a desirable
acquaintance, under the circumstances, I respectfully decline.
We speedily lose sight of the great, black, lumbering barge,
behind a bend in the river, and are only aware of its exist-
ence from the fact, that the plaintive echoes of "Rosin the
Bow" are now dying away over the silent waters in our wake.
And it still keeps on raining, raining, raining ; and our
boat keeps up its speed, and our boatmen keep up their
monotonous howling ; and whether it be the Otard, of which
we have all taken several sips ; or whether it be that we
have got used to the scene, and find it dull ; or, what is
more probable, are so wearied out after our long day's
travel, that tired nature claims and will have her due ; some-
how or other, we all fafl asleep. I say all ; for I am sure
that I kept awake until the last one finally dropped ofi^, from
pure exhaustion. I have an indistinct idea that, immediately
after my departure for the land of Nod, a hand, as of the
helmsman, was thrust into my top-coat pocket, where was
the Otard before alluded to, and something taken therefrom.
If this was the case, I am sure that it was the Otard, as that
was gone when I awoke ; although, of course, I might have
been dreaming, and the Otard might have fallen out, and
soraehow^ got into the river.
How long we slept, I know not, but I, for one, had some
A NIGHT ON THE RIVER. 151
curious dreams. I dreamt that I was in a whaleboat on the
Pacific, with Tom and the Major, steering for an island, which
we had ahnost readied, full of truits, and birds, and game,
and turtle, and possessing a most delightful climate ; and
then I was alone, somewhere in the Gila country, travelling
through the sand in quest of a great and wealthy city which
I was sure existed somewhere in that mysterious region ; and
then I was scouring the pampas of Buenos Ayres, on a wild
horse, without any particular end in view ; and then I had
finally come home a very rich, but sallow and sick old man,
and I was lying in bed, while my only sister, who had not
changed any in all these long years, sat placidly sewing at
my side ; and in every one of these scenes I was so tired and
sad. And then I awoke, and we all awoke, and there was
Chagres.
We came in to the bank under the stern of the brig " Bella
del Mar," opposite to the Irving House. There was no one
stirring on the levee, except about a dozen young fellows
who had come down alongside of us to hear the news, think-
ing us to be from Panama. It had cleared off, and was so
very bright and serene a night now, that our previous expe-
rience of " storm and darkness " seemed to have been but
pait of an unpleasant dream ; and old Chagres, that mise-
rable, vagabondish place, was of a verity to us " a sight for
sair een." We could see, too, as easily as by broad day-
light, that these young men were a little unsteady in their
movements, as if overcome by liquor.
I inquired if we could get into any hotel at that hour, for
I supposed it to be near dawn.
" Oh, we're bound to see you safe in," said half-a-dozen
together ; " we're going to the Irving, now, after Samuels —
come along."
" Yes," said one of the number, in explanation, " we're on
152 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
a bit of a bender to-night. It's sonie anniversury, as near
as we can recollect, and this dog of a Samuels slipped off at
the opening of the third basket. So we're going to have him
out and administer something wholesome."
" Come along," said they all together.
Under their auspices we landed, and followed by our na-
tives carrying the baggage, proceeded to the Irving House,
where our new friends kicked furiously at the door, and then
made a formal demand for Samuels. But it appeared that
Samuels was not forthcoming, and the exasperated proprietor
refused to open his doors at that unseasonable hour, and
treated the story of a party from down river being in atten-
dance outside, with entire contempt. A council of war was
then held by the besiegers ; and the result was, that a large
piece of joist was brought up from the bank by the whole
strength of the company, six of a side, and thrust with all
the vigor of the united twelve against the inhospitable door.
The door did not yield at first, but the twelve did, and fall-
ing with the heavy timber upon them, one half of the num-
ber were considerably bruised. The second attack differed
from the first, in that it was the starboard half in lieu of the
h^rboard who received the timber this time in falling, and
were likewise considerably bruised. Upon the third attack,
the door was beaten in, and we all entered.
I presume that the young men were successful in their
search for Samuels, for having occasion to go down stairs for
a pitcher of fresh water, after Ave had retired to our rooms
for the balance of the night, I saw a haggard and sleepy-
looking gentleman perched upon a stool on the table, with his
head firmly encased in a certain household utensil, which shall
be nameless. I inferred from appearances, that he was about
to be treated with a mixture of something which one of the
party was preparing in a small basin, but what the whole-
,4 MCillT ON THE RIVER. 153
some compound was, I did not learn. I saw the same indi-
vidual the next day, with his head somewhat damaged and
swollen, and am inclined to believe that the aforesaid uten-
sil, having tightened upon his cranium after repeated pota-
tions, it was found necessary to break it thereon, before it
could be removed. And this was one of the features of what
the Chagres boys termed " a bender."
154 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
CHAPTER XV.
WHAT A DAY MAY BRING FORTH.
IT is, probably, hardly necessary for me at this stage of my
narrative to say, that I have all along been quite free of
apprehensions of suiting that self-sufficient and orderly class,
whose ideas seldom go beyond their daily task ; who can
see no good out of their own private Jerusalem ; who look
with horror upon an adventure, or anything which comes to
them, bearing the guise or savor of romance ; who bear
indelibly stamped upon their countenances the motto of the
old lady who bought the caul of David Copperfield — " Let
there be no meandering"," who, if they read at all, read to
be instructed, to weigh down their memory with a load of
facts; and have no undignified suspicions of what is included
in the poetry, the drollery, the dreamery of life. On the
contrary, it is confident!)' expected that this class of people
will long since have thrown aside the book with a contemp-
tuous " Fudge ! Does the writer take us to be fools, that
we should believe this mass of stuflT?" These people con-
sider nothing as worthy their attention but what lies within
the very limited circle of their own observation or experience.
They are the Thomases of the world, and require even to
thrust their fingers into the pint of the nails, or they will
not believe.
As if oftentimes one single thought which the novelist
pens in bitterest sincerity of heart, were not a thousand fold
WHAT A DAY MAY BRING FORTH. 155
more true, because more earnest, than all the dull acts of
their unvaried life. As if, though they would smile to hear
us say so, the very abject man of crime, when considered iu
relation to the strength of the temptations which he has
withstood, and the more terrible strength of that temptation
to which he finally succumbed, were not oftentimes more
honest and virtuous than they.
I do not then deem it necessary to offer to the reader any
apology for the unusual character which the incidents of the
day I am about to describe may happen to possess. It is
not my fault if they are somewhat strange. The world is a
wide one, and there is not a day passes in any part of it,
but bringeth forth far stranger things than these. And now
having relieved my mind in a measure, by putting forth this
disclaimer, or whatever you please to call it, I promise
for the future to stick more closely to the thread of my
narrative.
It was after three o'clock in the afternoon, before the
Falcon was off on her home-bound flight, and I was on
shore again in weary Chagres. My first visit on landing
was to the Empire City Hotel, to see my old friends. Vale
and Parkins, and get the latest reports from Vitti, who, as I
had casually learned in the morning, was now confined in
the old fort. I should have put up at the Empire on the
previous night, but as hotel-keeping was a new business
with Mr. Vale, I had an undefined apprehension that he
might not have been successful in it, and that we should be
more comfortable at the Irving, which indeed, at that time,
was the model hotel of Chagres. In this it seems that I was
not far wrong, for on arriving at my old loitering-place, I
could not avoid remarking, at first sight, an air of nudity
and forlorn abandonment, that would have been melan-
choly had it not been so beautifully characteristic of the pre-
156 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
siding genius of the place. The lower part of the house was
deserted, and had a damp and dismal smell about it like a
cellar. The bar-room was vacant, both of loafers and liquor.
It was another failure in Vale's multifarious pursuits, and
had it not been for a slip of paper, with a hand pointing to
the staircase, and the words " not dead but sleeping," written
thereon, and meant to be waggishly explanatory of the true
state of things, I should have left the house under the
impression that both Vale and Parkins had departed this
place, if not in fact this life, for a better.
Pursuing the direction in which the hand jwinted, I
reached the chamber where I had already seen the French
Marquis and poor Parkins in an unenviable state of health,
to find there another candidate for the pleasures of illness,
— even Senor Quanto Valley himself. He was stretched
upon the sofa, with a table wheeled to his side, covered with
a Napoleonesque assortment of maps, plans, and other
documents, while his ex-partner, again upon his legs, thanks
to the treatment of Doctor G , officiated in the cha-
racter of nurse.
" This comes of fillibustering it," said the latter as I enter-
ed, with a glance towards Vale, in vvhich contempt and reproof
were alike mingled, — " you see the old fool would make a
public idiot of himself, by attempting the rescue of that
madcap Vitti, and this is what comes of it."
Vale was certainly rather the worse for his adventure,
whatever it might have been, to which Parkins alluded. His
huge face was gashed and torn in places, to the great cost
of his hair and whiskers. One arm was in a sling, and from
his manner of reclining, it was easily inferred that some
other limbs had likewise suffered damage. Nothing put
down, nevertheless, by the shattered position in which
I had found him, he extended his whole hand to me in salu-
WHAT A DAY MAY BRING FORTH. 157
tation, arid observed, with a bappy smile, tbat there was no
evil without an attendant good ; and added, that Parkins
would give me the particulars of the assault in which he led a
body of determined men to the rescue of Vitti at the fort,
which enterprise failed of success, through an unforeseen acci-
dent that befel the leader thereof; thinking, I suppose, in trust-
ing Parkins with this narration, that I knew his weak points
well enough to make due allowances for anything he might
utter derogatory to the character or courage of him — Vale.
" Well," said Parkins, taking up the tale in quite an
enthusiastic manner, " the blasted old fool, yesterday after-
noon, after having worked all the morning, like a nigger
slave, as he is — to get Vitti into the fort^ — "
" For certain reasons," suggested Vale, in a parenthesis,
and with an approving smile.
" Must wheel suddenly right about face," continued Par-
kins, " and plan a rescue for the same night. So he gets
together all the young scapegraces of the place, gives them
a free treat — gets most of them almighty corned — "
" Which explains the actual state of the bar," I observed.
" Exactly — and then, just after dark, leads off for the other
side. Such a set ! There wasn't one of them knew what
they were going for, for old Quanto, with his usual bombast,
had, towards the close of the treat, made a speech in which
there was so much about the memory of Washington, Bunker
Hill, principles of '7G, glorious 4th, and so on, that they were
completely bewildered, and seemed to think it was some
great anhiversary, and that they were to celebrate it by
firing off the guns of the fart, killing a few natives, or some-
thing of the kind. Why, some of the rowdiest came back
after the downfall of old Quixote, and persisted in finishing
our champagne, drinking ' the day we celebrate,' and such
nousense."
158 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
" I met some of this class quite early this morning," said I.
"Quite likely — they had a charge sufficient for three
days. Well, they got across the river somehow or other,
and went staggering up the hill where the fort is, in the
most absurd manner "
" To the tune of ' I see them on their winding way,' "
interrupted Vale, who was reviewing the exploit with his
mind's eye, and evidently looked upon it as the event of
his life.
" But as it happened," resumed Parkins, "just before they
reached the moat, our great hero of a leader, in taking too
much sheer in his winding way, went over the bank, and
just missed breaking his preposterous neck. He had the
luck, however, to fetch up against a projecting rock, which
did the business for his right arm and left leg, and then they
fished him back and brought him home, and a pretty mess
I'm with it all !"
" So far so good," said Vale, with a complimentary smile
in the direction of Parkins, " and now for the moral of the
tale. For the injuries done to my person, in the attempt to
save a fellow-countryman, from what I now believe to be
unmerited punishment, the republic of New Grenada must
answer. And, sir, I have this day perfected my plan. This
fall of mine is not for nothing — I shall come up again. Yes,
sir, I have perfected my plan for seizing this key to the Isth-
mus, and declaring it, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, a
portion of our glorious republic, tlie birth-place of Wash-
ington, and which has given to the world the sublime spec-
tacle of a successful eftbrt at self-government, and a Fourth
of July. There are those who wait but the promulgation
of my project to second me. Sir, Napoleon, who was like-
wise a self-made man, in his younger days was wont to say,
that if he could secure for his countiy the possession of Suez,
WHAT A DAY MAY BRING FORTH. 159
he would control the commerce of the East. Since the time
of that very clever man — I think even Parkins will admit
this — things liave changed ; the commerce of the East is
destined to turn its face backward from its old path ; and this
Isthmus, which I am to declare ours, is the channel through
which its immense wealth shall flow."
While Mr. Vale was thus discoursing, in the delirium of
fever, he had partly risen fi-om his couch, and, with his left
hand spread upon his maps and plans, seemed to forget his
bodily pain, and to hold himself ready for the onset at a
moment's notice. Parkins did his best to keep him down ;
but he too had the Chagres mark most unmistakably im-
pressed upon him, and was feeble as a child. The desolate
condition of these two men, attached thus strongly and
strangely to each other, was not a scene to contemplate with-
out emotion. I saw not the burlesque character of it exclu-
sively ; I felt more in the condition of Byron, when he said —
"And if I laugh at any mortal thing,
'Tis that I may not weep "
" But," said I, with a jerk as it were, for I saw the neces-
sity of calming Vale by a change of topic, " how goes the
hotel, my dear fellow — chock full, eh ?"
" Why, not exactly," responded Vale, seizing likewise upon
tliis topic with alacrity. " I have an idea for a hotel."
" There he goes again," observed Parkins, despairingly
" I would build one out in the neighborhood of your old
camel encampment, a hotel equal to any in the vStates, pro-
vided with all the comforts and luxuries of our own homes.
Such a hotel as this would do more for this place, than all
the prayers of the saints could effect in any other way. Just
think of a poor devil, wet and weary, half dead with his
fatigue of crossing the Isthmus, coming to a place like
160 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
home, as I mean to make the Atlantic Steamship Hotel ;
why, sir, he would stow away the proprietor's name in his
heart, and keep it there always afterwards, as a benefactor
of his race."
" Very likely," said I, " but you forget that this town will
not last long. When the railroad is completed, Chagres
must be abandoned for Navy Bay. No one would invest
capital, as yon propose, with such a prospect."
" Another idea," said Vale, eagerly, with the same deli-
rious glitter in his eye. " What do you think of settling at
Navy Bay — the first man, I mean the first regular permanent
resident, and becoming the pioneer citizen of the place— I
have thought of that too. What a figure I should cut at
dinner celebrations, in later years, when the new city shall
boast its hundred thousand inhabitants — I should be the
Daniel Boone of the Isthmus. I should immortalize myself."
" Only, that you would starve several years before your
tremendous greatness would have a chance to begin," ob-
served the incorrigible Parkins.
In the course of the conversation which ensued, I obtained
-no further news of Vitti. He was still shut up in the fort,
awaiting the time when he should be taken to Panama for
trial. His sister had not been heard from. It was late for
me to think of returning to Dos Hermanas that night, even
if a boat could have been had, which, considering the num-
ber of passengers by the Falcon and Crescent City, was
somewhat doubtful. And, as I was sure of an opportunity
of proceeding early on the following morning by the
steamer Ralph. Rivas, I resolved to go over to the fort at
once, and communicate with Vitti, determined in my own
mind to get at something which should serve as a clue to
all this mystery. I left Vale and Parkins, not doubting but
that I should see or hear from them again ; but up to this
WHAT A DAY MAY BRING FORTH. 161
moment, I never have. Poor iSampson Vale — bowf pleasantly
the foolish dreamer would smile at the application of this
epithet to hhn — I often wonder if he is still above ground —
leading the same old visionary life, chasing the golden-
winged butterflies of his fancy, but never fairly grasping
them, through the blustering world, with the weary Solomon
dragging after, and almost blinded by the dust in his wake.
And yet Mr. Yale, after all, was but one of a very numerous
class in the world. The dread of being nobody is the bug-
bear of their unhappy lives, and so they wear themselves
away, the very nothingest of nobodies, simply because they
are always hankei'ing after something to which it is not pos-
sible they can ever reach.
It was raining heavily as, having crossed the river, imme-
diately after the interview above narrated, I toiled up the steep
rocky hillside leading to the fort. I think I never felt more
spiritless and sad. The parting that day with those dearest
to me on earth ; the melancholy situation of our party on the
river; the yet more melancholy one of the friends I had just
left, and the situation of him I was going to see, most melan-
choly of all ; my own solitariness, and perchance the presen-
timent of an approaching mishap ; the dreary weather, — all
combined to blacken the deep gloom which hung over me
like a cloud. I picked my way along over the loose, slip-
pery rocks, and felt desperate enough. Even when I passed
the point on the bluff where Vale had shd off, my imagina-
tion was powerless to bring before me the ludicrousness of
his adventure. I passed into the outer fortress over the
tottering bridge, and went doggedly by the soldiers stationed
at the gateway leading to the inner. I should quite have
liked a bit of a row at that moment, to have waked me up a
little ; but the poor fellows on sentry were in no mood for
anything of the kind. The idea of Vale attacking these
162 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
people ! One lialf of the liquor spent in treating tlie assault-
ing party would hav^e bought a free pass for Vitti a dozen
times over.
I was in no mood for admiring the excellence of the work ;
its stupendous sea-wall, formed partly by nature ; its solid
cemented floor; its lines of dungeons under ground, running
deep beneath the surface of the outer fortress ; its magnificent
position, overlooking the broad fields of the Atlantic, and
effectually protecting the hamlet couched at its base; its
heavy, tirae-stained guns ; its sentry-boxes, black and decay-
ing, suggestive of so many long, weary hours of a soldier's
life ; its piles of rusty balls ; its brick and cemented, but
ruinous buildings ; its one other building, partly constructed
of similar materials, and partly of wood, the quarters of the
officers in the old time, the present jail of Chagres. It was
a type of the power and magnificence of a past age, crumbling
away before the higher power and truer magnificence of our
own.
Not seeing any one in particular who seemed to be in any
sort of authority there, I at once eutered the wooden build-
ing, and passing up stairs, found Vitti alone in a bare and
extremely desolate-looking apartment. He was half lying
upon a cot with his head resting upon his arm, gazing
moodily at the floor. My entrance caused a scampering
among the cockroaches, who, emboldened by the prisoner's
apathy, had ventured from their h^les.
" Vitti, my old boy," said I, as cheerfully as possible, on
entering, " how goes it, eh ? not altogether down-hearted, I
hope ?"
As he raised his head and extended his hand to greet me,
I could not avoid being struck with the great change which
had come over him. He was thin, pale, and haggard ; but
not quite given over to despair. On the contrary, there was
WHAT A DAY MAY BRING FORTH. 163
a twitching of his muscles and flashing of his eye, which
sliowed a great struggle of some sort still at work within.
This was a favorable sign. He seemed, as near as I could
judge at a glance, like a man groping in mystery, and vainly
harassing himself for a' clue. He did not speak to me at
first, but watched me closely, as if he would read my errand
in my face. It was certainly not there — at least what he
expected — and then he ventured to say, still holding me tight
by the hand, " My sister, do you know anything of her ?"
" No," said I, " but I am sure that she is safe, and that
no harm has come to her."
Oh, the heart-thrilling earnestness of the "thank God!"
which "broke from Vitti as I said this ! Tt made me tremble
to think that he really believed me. He kept still looking
at me, and squeezing my hand, as if to be certain that he
had really heard those words of mine ; and then I saw tears
begin to gather in his eyes, and then they rolled down his
cheeks, and made him keep his hold upon me all the tighter
for fear that shower of joy and gratitude might hide me
from his sight, and the delicious dream be over.
" Vitti," said I, again, solemnly, for it was truly a solemn
moment, and I felt that the eternal happiness of two lives
depended on the answer — " tell me, Vitti, with your own
lips, that you are innocent of the crime they charge you
with. I do not doubt it, only let me hear it from your own
lips."
In an instant his whole expression changed. The former
cloud of terror and doubt rolled away, and he was in ex-
pression the same brave, frank, daring boy as ever. " Ha !"
said he, " that was spared me. Had any wrong been done
by him to my sister, I would have murdered him, and
laughed at anything hell could add to my torments. The
murdering of a man would have been nothing. No, — I
164 LIFE ON THK ISTHMUS.
found him dying — and was with hiui to the hvst, calUng
upon him to tell me of my sister — but he never spoke to me
a word. He died, and it was the terrible uncertainty of her
fate that was killing me. I could not find it possible to
decide on what to do, and I have been in a stupor until
DOW. But now I shall go out and find her. My sister lives
— as she did in what seems to me another earlier state of
existence — so changed have I become in the last two days ;
and all the powers of earth cannot prevent our reunion.
Come, let us leave this miserable, rotten old place, and go
out ; there is a whole band of angels in the air above us, to
protect us on our way."
Even as Vitti spoke, in the rapture of the moment, a gold-
en stream of light poured into the room from the west.
We rose up, hand in hand, to go forth. As we issued from
the house, guarded only by a few superannuated natives in
the menial department, the whole world seemed suddenly
to have become fresh and new again. Broad patches of blue
sky, in one of which was the clear bright sun, now almost
setting, gave to the heavens a cheerful aspect above. The
broad ocean wore its white caps jauntily in the purified at-
mosphere — the broader expanse of hill-side and forest, wav-
ing willi its mass of richest verdure, like another ocean, with
mysteries and voices as sublime and solemn as the first, wore
every tint of gold and green. The river, with the life upon
its bosom, the houses in the vale beneath us, every homeliest
object within the circle of our view, each had its own face
brighter for the pearly drops which had kissed it. And who
in a mood to enjoy it like Vitti ? The few words of hope
and sympathy which I had spoken, had been to him as a
new birth, and he was like a child in his sportive apprecia-
tion. We walked towards the ramparts, for we were not
(juite prepared to venture on a sally forth.
WHAT A DAY MAY BRING FORTH. 165
" Last evening," said Vitti, " as I walked here alone, I saw
a vision yonder Avhich made me doubt for a moment the
soundness of my reason."
- He pointed across the water to a point in the vicinity of
the small river, which I have heretofore noticed as flowing
into the sea hard by where stood our camel encampment.
" All day long," continued he, " the image of my sister
had been before me like an actual presence ; and as I stood
out here, at about this very hour, I saw her still ; but now
she was afar off, gliding like a spirit along the beach in that
direction. It was not strange that I should fancy her there,
for it was her old favorite walk. I rubbed my eyes for ano-
ther look — the vision seemed so real and palpable — but when
I looked again, she was gone. Nevertheless, I dreamed of
her as still there. But good Heavens ! what is that ? — I see
the same form again !"
I strained my eyes in the direction indicated, and in all
the wide reach of the magnificent panorama, which the sun
was gilding so gorgeously with his latest rays, I too saw but
one figure, and it was certainly that of a woman pacing soli-
tarily along the shore.
" I see it," said I, and although the figure was very indis-
tinct to my eyes, from the great distance, something impelled
me to cry out, " and it is she ; — yes, Vitti, it is your sister !"
" And do you really see it ?" said he, in a low and solemn
tone. " Oh, God, can it be ?"
There was no doubt of it — there was really a slight and
graceful figure hovering there — so slight, one might have been
pardoned in the strange beauty of the hour for believing it
to be a spirit. But I was satisfied. Already a possible in-
terpretation of the whole affair was passing through my
mind.
" Vitti," said I, still holding him by the hand, and speak-
166 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
ing as calmly as I could, " this serene sky and tranquil earth,
rising up out of the ruins of the storm, is a type of what you
also are to expect. Leave the arrangement of the thing to
me. I shall find your sister, and bring her to you here.
You cannot go forth now, but to-night you may. And to-
morrow you and your sister may both be safe on board the
Crescent City. In another land you may be happier than
you could ever hope to be in this."
The form of the solitary woman had disappeared from the
beach. Vitti, holding my hand like an obedient child, walked
back with me to the house. I think at that moment, if an
angel had come down from the sky, flapping his white wings
about us, he would not have trusted him so implicitly as
me.
"Do not be long away," said he, as I left him in his room
— no more a prison-house, but the rendezvous where he was
soon to meet his soul's twin ; and then as I was going down
the rickety old stairs, he called me back.
" Stay a moment," said he, with tears pouring down his
face ; " it is my belief that the sinless have power with God
for the pardon of the sinful. Now hear me. There is one
angel, though she still lives on earth, who shall be taught
both here and hereafter, as by the secret bond of sympathy
Detween us I know how to teach her, to weary Ileaven's
Majesty for your eternal good. There is no other recom-
pense fitting for a deed of kindness like this. Now go, and
take this certainty along with you !"
I went out from the old fort, the grim exponent of man's
meaner passions. I recrossed the river, and taking my way
along the marginal path I had often travelled before, came
to the spot wliere we had recently encamped. Tlie sun was
setting. The broad sea was there like a huge shaggy, but
not unfriendly monster, pawing upon the sand, licking it with
♦ WHAT A DAY MAY BRING FORTH. 167
its great white lolling tongue, and growling in its deep throat
as was its wont. I sat down, for a moment, to rest upon a
fragment of a former wreck, and was reviewing in my mind
the incidents of the day, when I heard a voice close beside
me, but nearer to the stream than where I sat — a voice sing-
ing. I needed not to see the form of its owner then, for I
knew it well. That voice — that tone of voice — it told its
own story ; yes, in its uncertain aim, its shrill and un-
steady pitch, its sobbing, gasping accompaniment — the old-
est of all old stories, a disordered intellect consequent upon
blighted love, a story told so touchingly in the history of fair
Ophelia and the gentle Bride of Lammermoor — a story that
we do not often hear in the busy world, because stifled in the
walls of a mad-house, or wasting its echoes in the more sul-
len and certain seclusion of the grave, but none the less fre-
quently enacting for all that.
I rose up from where I was sitting, and listened ; I could
make out no words, and know not if this plaintive outpour-
ing of a clouded heart found vent in words ; but the senti-
ment conveyed to my mind thereby I afterwards tried to fix
in " a local habitation."
The following may not suggest to the reader the depth of
sorrow which seemed to well up from the singer's heart, and
I give it only as my feeble interpretation of the same : —
SONG.
" Let me go where waves are wildest,
Breaking on a lonesome shore;
Where the winds that erst were mildest,
'Long tlie solemn beaches roar.
There a sea-bird wild and storm-tost,
Vainly flies the waters o'er ;
Here a maid, as lorn and love-lost,
Weepeth, waileth evermore.
168 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
" Day by day the waters gather,
And the waves are leaping high ;
So in calm and blackest weather.
Still the lone sea-bird must fly.
There's a brain is mad with fever.
There's a wild and tear-dimmed eye ;
There's a heart is breaking ever,
And will break — until I die."
It now occurred to me, that once, having gone back some
distance from tlie beach, on a tramp with the Major, we had
come upon the ranche of an old native, who, in the course
of our conversation, had mentioned the names of Vitti and
his sister ; I had forgotten in what connexion. It was pro-
bable that Carlotta had been secreted with him during these
past few days ; but for what ? This I was soon to learn.
As she came into view, keeping close by the margin of the
stream, and walking towards the sea, I observed in her the
same wonderful grace and beauty as ever ; but could not
help likewise noticing, with the keenest regret, that uncer-
tainty of gait which bespeaks a lack of purpose in the mind ;
she did not see me till I was quite near to her, and when I
uttered her name softly, she sprang back as if stung. Seeing
and recognising me, she became quiet, however, and seemed
to await the delivery of my message.
" I come from your brother, Mademoiselle," said I, using
the French language.
" Yes," said she. " He is well f
" Hardly," said I ; "he has missed you for a few days,
and suffers much anxiety on that account. Will you return
with me to him ?"
" Is he alone ?" inquired she, with a very strange, unnatu-
ral calmness of tone.
A new idea broke upon mo. " He is," said I. " The
French Marquis de G "
WHAT A DAY MAY BRISG FORTH. 169
♦' Well."
" The Marquis left Chagres some three clays ago."
" Well."
" And is since dead at Dos Hermanas."
"Dead," said the girl, repeating the word slowly several
times, as if trying to coaiprehend its meaning. " Dead —
dead — dead and buried ?"
" Dead and buried," said I.
All at once a twinkling ray of reason, like the first star
of evening, shot up into her eyes, and she repeated the
■words more anxiously, " dead and buried."
" Dead and buried," said I again, and watched her closely
all the while. She did not weep, as the real truth came gra-
dually to her mind ; she did not show signs of fear or sor-
row, but a quiet sentiment of peace and satisfaction seemed
to be settling down upon her, and her countenance changed,
even as had her brothers, when I assured him that she still
lived.
'■ And so," said she, eagerly, almost gladly, as it seemed,
•' the Marquis is dead — gone away to be with the spirits, in
the spirit world — is this so ?"
" It is," said I. " I have seen his grave."
" Oh, for this," cried she, " may God be praised ! No
matter how he died — he is happy — he is with the blest.
Now I shall not be mad any longer. Now I shall love him,
and it will not make me mad. Now I shall love him, and
no earth-stain shall ever come upon our love, to bUist it.
Now I shall love him for ever, and shall not be an outcast
for it. See here, sir, you are married, and live in the sanctity
of domestic life, and know not from what a chasm I am
saved. I loved this man, when something told me that to
have declared my love would have been my ruin, and brought
tears and wretchedness to all who love me. And this was
170 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
making me mad. There was no safety but in flight; and
yet I seemed to be flying from my duty to poor Angelo, but
God kna\vsj[ could not help it. Had it been otherwise, we
had perished together. Now my love is in heaven ; no
blighting curse of earth can reach it. Forgive me what
seems unworthy in this confession ; could you see me as I
now see myself, I am sure you would. And now tell me of
Angelo, for I will at once go with you to him. Oh, strange,
joyful transformation ; he is dearer to me than ever."
" But, Mademoiselle, your brother is in the fort."
"Ha!"-
" Arrested on suspicion of the murder of the Marquis."
" Good God ! from what are we saved !"
"Even so, Mademoiselle" —
"And if I had yielded, this supposition had been cor-
rect."
" Then you believe in Angelo's innocence ?"
Her look, her triumphant smile, was the same as that
with which her brother had thrown the charge from him.
She saw the accusation only in its absurdity.
" My brother a murderer, and without a certain cause !
You little know him ! Many a hasty blow has he given, but
never a mortal one ; many a life has he saved, and many a
generous deed has he done ; nothing mean or cowardly can
ever come from him !"
And yet, thought I to myself, in hot blood such a thing
might happen, although the fond eyes of a sister's love could
see no such possibility.
We at once set oft" on our return to the town, picking our
way along the narrow path leading through the wood, for
the twilight is of short duration in those latitudes, and it
was now quite dark. I explained to Carlotta more fully the
position of Vitti, and the necessity for his immediate release.
WHAT A DAY MAY BRING FORTH. 171
Upon one thing we were perfectly agreed, that the snake-
tamer, Avhose name turned out to be Lowry, was the author
of the murder, if such had been committed ; a belief in
■which I was greatly strengthened, upon learning the fact
that the Marquis bore about his person effects of great
value.
It is a principle in law that a man is not bound to crimi-
nate himself, and I do not see why a writer should not have
the privilege of putting in a like exemption plea, when he is
liable to be placed in a ludicrous or undignified position ;
otherwise I might feel bound to relate a small mishap which
occurred to myself just as we were on the point of entering
the fort, and prevented my being present at the reunion of
Vitti and his sister, and was attended likewise with sundry
other unpleasant consequences, I might define it as consisting
of a slide, while groping a little in advance of my companion,
through the " storm and darkness" which had succeeded to
our late golden burst of sunshine, and its silvery wake of
star-light, from the same break in the precipitous bank that
liad brought Sampson Vale's adventure to so abrupt a termi-
nation. I might go on to tell how I was not equally fortu-
nate with that chivalric gentleman, but went tearing through
the bushes and bnm]>ing against the sharp rocky edges in
my descent, till I finally was brought up by the loose round
rocks at the very bottom of the bluff. How I lay there
insensible, I have no means of knowing for what length of
time, till the rising tide, lashing my temples, restored the
brain to action, and made it cognizant of my physical state.
How I then essayed to stir, and did succeed in creeping a
little at long intervals towards where, the occasional, for the
storm of rain and thunder raged unabated, Hashes of
lightning showed me was the native town. Suffering greatly
from bodily pain, though evidently whole as yet in limb,
172 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.^
Low I was all that night in the same situation, and did not
touch the welcome mud of the old town till the sun, who
seemed on that morning to have come up for me alone,
sent his advance beams over the vapory hills before me, and
made the growling storm retreat before him, and yet, how
during the long hours — I am proud to be able to write this —
my thoughts were not wholly of my weary self, but left me
often and went up to that decaying house, whore two
noble and loving hearts had that night met, as I could not
but feel in a great measure through my means, and revelled
in the infinite joy of that reunion ; how they went often
further still, and were with those dear ones, quiet and snug
in the saloons of the Falcon, cleaving the rough waves
of the Caribbean. What was bodily sutfering to me then ?
All this and much more I might relate, but, as I have
already said, I do not see why a writer should be held, even
though he profess in all his narratives to keep nothing back
from his dear friend, the reader, to place himself in a comic
pillory from which he may not find it easy to descend, and
I feel quite sure that that friend would not exact it merely
for his momentary gratification.
Be it enough, then, for me to say that a very early hour
of that morning beheld ine on the quarter-deck of the Kalph
Rivas, fortified with a good breakfast, and smoking a
genuine " habaguann" in perfect peace and quietude of mind.
This mental condition will be understood when I add, that I
had received, but a moment before starting, a most affec-
tionate letter from Vitti, expressing great solicitude as to my
condition — confound him ! — after my mishap of the previous
night, and informing me of the safe arrival of himself and
sister on board tlie steamshi]> " Crescent City."
AN OFFICIAL DISCLOSURE. 173
CHAPTER XVI.
AN OFFICIAL DISCLOSURE.
4i A'ER the glad -vvators of the dark bkie sea," borne
^ onward by her swift-revolving wheels, as if they were
truly the broad wings of the steam-god, goes the home-bound
Falcon with her precious freight. Up along the still surface
of the sultry river, with its thick-laid hem of deepest verdure,
we take again our toilsome way. Dos Hermanas is behind
us; and so, before the day is over — another such day as our
fii-st upon the river, but varied with new sights and wonders
of winged forms and " bloom and greenery" — is A''amos
Vamos, Pena Blanca, Bajio Soldado, Aqua Salud, Barro
Colorado, and perhaps other places of less note in history,
whose names I do not now remember ; and a little after sun-
down we arrive at the village of Palenquilla, a point on the
river some fifteen or eighteen miles above Dos Hermanas.
This is a genuine stopping-place ; and one would think, from
the sights and sounds along its water line, that the very same
crowd of the unterrified whom we had left at Gatun, two
nights previous, were here assembled, so similar are all these
crowds in their general features. But Palenquilla of itself is
not (jatun — not exactly. There are not so many native huts,
but there are tico American hotels ; and on the night of our
arrival there were several tents pitched, and fires built, and
lanterns lit, up and down its long sloping banks ; and in the
clear but feeble star-light, one might easily have taken it for
174 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
a great rendezvous of tlie gipsies, tinkers, and all the strolling
spirits of this restless world.
It is a theory of certain modern naturalists, that the dis-
tribution of rain over the American continents, owing to
their form and situation in mid ocean, is far greater, on an
average, than on the continents of the Old World ; that, in
consequence of this extraordinary humidity, the vegetable
kingdom flourishes to a degree unknown elsewhere, while
the animal is proportionally diminutive and feeble. Thus
the alligator is a lesser representative of the crocodile of the
Nile; the puma of the African lion ; the lama of the camel.
Nowhere is one more struck with the truth of this theory,
applicable, at all events, to the lower latitudes, than while
journeying on the river Chagres. Here, during an eternal
summer, bloom and wither such immense varieties of the
vegetable world, that the unpractised eye is wearied in its
attempt to select the parts of the wondrous whole, which
seems to have no beginning and no end, but to i-oll on like
the ocean,
"Dark-heaving, boundless, enJless, and sublime;"
and whether swayed by the gale, or clashing beneath the
thunder-bolt, or murnmring gratefully to the gentle lappings
of the summer wind, is equally " a glorious mirror where the
Almighty's form " is seen. And here, too, beneath the shade
of these majestic monarchs of the wood, the mango, the
sycamore, and palm, man, the highest style of the animal,
crawls languidly upon the bosom of his mother earth, un-
mindful, as it seems, of his glorious destiny, "content to
share a coward life with venomous insects and the beasts of
the jungle." Such, at any rate, has been heretofore the
character of these wretclied natives. Whether, with the
infusion of new blood amongst them, there shall come more
^A OFFICIAL DISCLOSURE. Il5
subtleness to their braius, or quicksilver to their joints,
remains to be seen.
I had passed a sluggishly pleasant day, not unmarked by
certain quiet and rather humorous incidents. We had plenty
of company in other boats on the river, and plenty of droll
rencontres at the native ranches on its banks. These gold-
seekers were, in one respect, like the full-fed priests we read
about, who, while they live in shadowy hopes of the spiritual
enjoyments of another world, are by no means disdainful of
the corporeal pleasures of this, and seemed bent on having
their full share of the passing fun. But it was more the calm
delight of finding myself surrounded by my quondam friends,
and losing, as it were, my weary identity in the thorough
appreciation of their rough, frank, genial, or enthusiastic
natures, that made me so sluggishl}'- calm and cheerful. It
is truly a glorious privilege that we possess of being able, at
times, when the realities of our own one life seem to press
hard upon us, to throw ourselves, so to speak, into the arms
of happier or more buoyant natures, and live a little while
in their lives. We are sad from solitary broodings ; and so
long as no light comes to us from without, tiie image of the
world on our dull brain is hung with gloomy curtains. But
let us break away from ourselves, and go into the thronged
street, and how often is it that a face, radiant with innocence,
hope, and joy, shall beam upon us, there dissipating, by its
brightness, our gloomy fancies, and kindling, as with a torch,
a ruddy fire at the hearthside of our musings. I have
thought that even the criminal on the scaff'old, catching
sight of some childish, happy expression in the crowd below,
might not feel himself so very forlorn, trusting, perhaps
vaguely, that the long madness of his soul might yet be over ;
and, in the far eternity of revolving events, he might possibly
get back to some stand-point whence he should look upon
176 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
creation with a cooler, healthier brain. If, as has been
asserted by certain modern statesmen, there is a community
in mankind's destiny, politically speaking, there is certainly
no less, so far as his moral and social happiness is concerned.
But, heigh-ho ! where are we getting to ? What has all this
transcendentalism to do with the Isthmus ?
The Major — I have him now before me as he was during
all that day ; his fine eye catching every object and form of
beauty, and flashing with sincerest inward pleasure, while
his words of flame darted intot)ur hearts. His was a mind
that had kept great company ; and from its well stored depths
the choicest -passages of tlie old poets came bubbling up
always at the right moment. He had the soul of a child —
hopeful and enthusiastic. He was a companion to go round
the world with, and make one wish at the end that the
voyage had been twice as long.
As for Tom, the shakes being oft', he was occupied prin-
cipally in taking minute doses of quinine, in draughts of
a dark-colored liquid, which Colonel Allen poured out of a
four gallon demijohn at frequent intervals, and which
smelt strongly of rum and burnt molasses, but which Mon-
sieur Crapolet afiirmed was brown sherry. The Colonel and
Monsieur Crapolet likewise partook of the same beverage
quite often, diluted of course with a little river water,
although the Colonel seemed to cast a certain imputation
upon the wine, derogatory to its quality, by observing with
a shrug of his shoulders, and a slight tremor in his entire
frame, immediately subsequent to a heavy dose, that " the
subscriber was constitutionally opposed to bad liquor." I
noticed that Judge Smithers excused himself from partaking
by an insinuation that there was too much of the monkey
about it, but I am inclined to think that he made use of the
term "monkey" in this connexion as a mere figure of speech.
.4.Y OFFICIAL DISCLOSURE. 177
" Speaking of fever," said Judge Smitbers — " I say, Allen,
are you ever troubled nowadays v\'hh your old complaint of
typhoid ?"
" No," said the suUscriber, briefly,
"I mean," pursued the Judge, "the periodical attack
■which you were subject to while in the State House, at Jeffer-
son City."
" The State House story !" cried we all.
" It's not much of a story," said Colonel Allen.
" But very characteristic," said the Judge.
" Debouchez !" said Monsieur Crapolet, with a gesture,
expressive of thirsty impatience, thinking probably, that if
we had got to have the story, the sooner it was begun the
better.
" Is it to be a true story ?" inquired Tom.
"Yes," replied the Judge, "this is one of Allen's true
stories."
" As if the subscriber ever told any that were not," ob-
served the Colonel, waggishly.
"As if," continued the Judge, following him up, and using
a horse phrase, " an editor ever .shied at the truth."
"Debouchez !" shouted Monsieur Crapolet agaiji.
" Well, then, gentlemen," began the Colonel, " but really
it is nothing of a story — you see the subscriber was once
appointed to an office, in the State House, at Jefferson City."
" Governor ?" inquired Tom.
" No," said the Colonel, " but it's nothing of a story —
Judge, I would much rather you would tell it."
" Hey, g'long there, what are you 'bout I" said the Judge,
with the air of a man taking a bluebottle from the nigh
leader's ear,
" Well, then," began the Colonel again ; " the subscriber
had an office in the State House, under the Governor — a very
178 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
respectable office, wliicli he was induced to accept to accom-
modate Lis friends and tlie public."
" The Colonel is always ready to sacrifice himself for the
good of his friends," observed the Judge, in explanation.
" To illustrate which the aforesaid will have the pleasure
of potating with his fellow vovager, Monsieur Crapolet,"
said the Colonel, thereby drawing our attention to the
unhappy Frenchman, who sat gazing gloomily' at the
water alongside, as if it were a very dismal subject for con-
templation.
" The State House story !" cried we all again, as soon as the
potations were well over — not at all disposed to relinquish
our treat.
" It's no story any way," persisted Allen, " the amount of
it is — the subscriber was once in the State House at Jeffer-
son City, employed there, you understand, in a very respect-
able though slightly subordinate capacity, a tiling he was
induced to consent to by the importunities of his numerous
friends, and being there, you see — with great pleasure."
The last observation was addressed to Monsieur Crapolet,
who had caught the Colonel's eye, and was going through
certain pantomiinics, intended in a delicate way to suggest to
him, the Colonel, the pro2:)riety of taking some refreshment
in the way of drink before proceeding with bis narrative.
" It's no use," said Judge Smithers, hopelessly, as the
Colonel accepted a generous quenclier, " I see that I shall
have to tell the story myself Previous to Allen's acceptance
of the office of clerk to the Seci-etary of State at Jefferson
City, he held an equally subordinate office in the printing-
house of the American Bald Eagle and Poor Devil's Advo-
cate at St. Louis, namely that of items aud bill collector. It
has been suspected that the numerous little difficulties
therein recorded of a certain gentleman well known in our
AN OFFICIAL DISCLOSURE. 179
midst, were no otlier than the romantic doings of the Colo-
nel himself about town. Under the inspiration of his pen
the city became quite another place from what it ever was
before, or ever will be again."
" Fact," murmured Allen, admiringly.
" But," continued the Judge, " it was in his capacity of
bill collector, that the Colonel shone with especial brilliancy.
Soon after the first of January it was the custom of the pro-
prietors to send the Colonel forth "
" From the Eden of the sanctum," observed Allen, paren-
thetically.
" To meet the smiles and frowns of a heartless world-
armed with a pile of bills, a description of weapon not usually
of much avail in captivating the affections of men. Now,
whatever was the result of these adventurous sallies to the
aforesaid proprietors, one thing is certain, that the Colonel
fattened upon them. The fact is when he didn't get money,
he got a drink— and not unfrequently got very drunk."
"He's cool," said Allen, who happened at the time to be
hob-nobbing with Monsieur Crapolet, and whose complexion
did not bespeak any great degree of coolness in his corpo-
real system at all events.
" To relinquish a post like this," continued the Judge,
"went sorely against the Colonel's grain. But, however, he
did it."
" He did it," groaned Allen.
" In his new situation he didn't get many punches."
"Meaning the mixiure — so called," interpreted Allen.
" And yet strange to say, this abstemious course of life
did not seem to agree with the Colonel's constitution,
for during his continuance at the State House he was troubled
with a periodical attack of fever, which was sure to befal
him soon ai'ter the first of January."
TI80 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
"Always on the memorable eighth."
" And which made it invariably necessary for him to
return home. It was a little curious how this fever atfected
him. He was quite thin and sick on leaving JeJYersou City,
looking in part as if he had dieted — and his enemies actually
affirmed that such was the case — on rhubarb for a week
previous. But when he came back after an absence of a
few weeks only, he was robust and healthy-looking — not to
say, red even in the face, as if he had during all this time
lived upon nothing but brandy and water and hot punches,
which his enemies likewise accused him of. For two years
the secretary submitted to this misfortune of Allen's without
a word of complaint."
" Parbleu 1" observed Monsieur Orapolet, shrugging his
shoulders, as much as to inquire what the dragon he could say.
" About the first of January of the third year, Allen's
health began to fail again. He observed to the Secretary
that he must go home, that he could not somehow support
the climate of Jeliersou City for a longer period than ten or
eleven months. It was very strange, but there it was —
" ' But,' suggested the Secretary, ' it is stranger still that
you should always return, looking so well.'
" ' The subscriber is exceedingly afraid this time that he'll
never recover his health sufficiently to come back at all,'
returned Allen.
" So when the eighth arrived, Allen having pre /iously inform-
ed the Secretary that he had a presentiment that he should
not live the night out if he remained over that day, took his
departure for St. Louis. After lie had been gone a Aveek, the
Secretary, ' smelling a rat' perhaps, thought he would send
an embassy to inquire after his health and report progress.
Well, they arrived — there were two of them — at Allen's
hotel at St. Louis, and inquired how the Colonel was. The
AN OFFICIAL DISCLOSURE. 181
barkeeper informed them that the individual in question was
a leetle under the weather about dinner-time, but would
not probably be sick enough to retire to bed before night.
"' He is able to sit up, then, a portion of the day?' in(|uired
they.
" ' Well, he stands it as long as he can,' was the reply.
" ' We are from Jetlerson City,' said they, ' and learnt of
his sickness at that place.'
" ' The Colonel is a case,' was the somewhat figurative
response."
" Ticket was the word," interposed Allen.
" Well, they finally asked if they could see him, and were
requested, in reply, to hold on a bit, and they'd see and hear
him, too, to their entire satisfaction. It was not hng before
our hero was set down at the door, and came in with the
roll of the hack still upon him, shouting in a thick and
sonorous tone of voice, that ' all the world was a stage-coach,
and all the men, women, and band-boxes merolj' passengers
therein.' "
"The Judge has got that part correct, any Low," said
Allen with a wink.
"The embassy rubbed their eyes, but it was no ghost
whom they beheld ; neither did the man look sick, at least
not according to the common acceptation of the word, so
they ventured to call him by name. ' Ha !' said the Colonel,
on recognising his old companions at Jefterson City, and
little suspecting their errand, ' you have arrived at the very
moment.. T am to have a bit of a supper directly, with a
few friends. You see I have been out all day on a collect-
ing tour, and not having been very successful in filling my
pockets with rocks, am not exactly in good ballast-trim. As
William says : —
182 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
' " What, not one hit
From Tripoli, from Mexico, and England,
From Lisbon, Barbary, and India,
And not one vessel 'scape the dreadful touch
Of merchant-marring rocks I' "
" Here was a case for you !"
" Quite a subject for Hogarth," said Allen.
" But to conclude. The embassy accepted the polite invi-
tation ; Allen, to give the devil his due — without any figure
of speech — gave them a liandsome repast. Towards the
small hours, the Colonel was somehow got to bed ; and the
next morning our diplomats, completely won over to the
enemy, were on their way back to JeSerson City.
" ' Well,' said the Secretary to them on their return, with
a knowing look, ' how did you find Allen ; — pretty sick, eh V
" ' He was indeed, said they, solemnly.
" ' Have a doctor V inquired the Secretary.
" * There were two physicians in attendance,' replied the
embassy (which was true, for among the Colonel's guests
were two knights of the lancet).
" ' Able to sit up V persisted the Secretary.
" ' Well, hardly,' was the reply. ' We left St. Louis at
noon, and he had not been able to risfe at that houi'.'
" The Secretary appeared to be satisfied, and nothing
further was said at the time. 13ut the cream of the mat-
ter was, that the Secretary had slipped out to St. Louis,
immediately after the departure of his friends, and had
been present with them at the hotel in a kind of incog.,
and was of course aware of the entire transaction. The
Dutch-uncleism of the Colonel, in rather avoiding a strict-
ly veracious account of his sufferings, on his return to
Jefferson City, was really delightful. The joke, however,
was never fully acknowledged in public until on a certain
AN OFFICIAL DISCLOSURE. 183
occasion, when our four characters happened to be indulging
together, the Secretary, in an unguarded moment, observed
to the barkeeper, that he would take a small dash of ' Ty-
phoid ' in his. An explanation followed, and the result was
another supper at the Colonel's expense, where the subject
was fully discussed, and pronounced highly discreditable to
Missouri politics. Now, Allen, you rascal, don't you feel
ashamed of yourself ?"
" I trust," said the Colonel, with a penitent air, " that the
thing may be set down as among the foibles of youth, and
on no account be allowed to go any further."
" Of course not !" said we all.
184 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
CHAPTER XVII.
6CKNE AT PALEXQUILLA.
IT is an old habit of mine — so old as to be almost a second
nature — that of prying beneath the outer surface of
things, after a concealed mystery ; of getting, as it were,
behind the scenes in every act of life that I thought particu-
larly worthy of my attention, that I might learn something
of the motives which led to such greatness or glitter ; that
I might weigh calmly these palpable results in my mind,
and decide for myself how much was real, and how much
false ; how often the heart was in the action, or in the most
melancholy and perverse opposition. And especially in
visiting a new place, have I been wont to seek for something
not Avritten plainly on its front — something of its inner life,
something characteristic of the spot, that should set its
mark upon it in my memory, and make it unlike all other
places to me ; something which, when its name was men-
tioned, should instantly start up before me, the one bold
figure of the picture, to which the surrounding objects
should form a shadowy back-ground. But in this I have
not always been successful. I have spent days in certain
spots, watching long and wearily for a glimpse of that
subtle revelation, as one sits sometimes beside a great paint-
ing, striving, oh, how vainly ! to catch something of the
inspiration of him who conceived and executed it, in the
glow of which presence all its most delicate beauties should
SCENE AT PALENQUILLA. 185
start forth ; and yet have gone away, and not having
felt and grown, as it were, witli and into them, have soon
forgotten them altogether. And at other times my nature
has so mingled itself with the deep earnestness of the scene,
that I never — never can forget it.
It was a stormy evening; the rain fell in merciless torrents.
Among the thick forests on the opposite bank it plunged
with a heavy crashing sound. The yellow streams rushed in
foaming impetuosity down the sloping hill-side of Palen-
quilla, and gave a fresh impulse to the already maddened
current of the river. It was no easy task to keep a footing
in the ascent leading to the hotel farthest from our barge,
for while the wind did its best to overthrow you, the running
water and the slippery soil under foot contributed equally to
the difficulties of locomotion. Nevertheless, prompted by
something which, for lack of a better term, you may call
curiosity, I was bent on reaching that edifice ; and as sleep in
our barge, owing to the social peculiarities of our ^neighbors,
was out of the question, had quite made up my mind, if I
did succeed in reaching it, to pass the night there. Sleep —
yes, to court that — not rest, but sleep — was to be tlie end of
my toilsome journey, as I thought. Sleep — I did not find
it there, but there w'as one who did ; one who closed liis
little eyes for ever on the weary world that night, and was
with the angels when he awoke.
Ugh ! I have stumbled over something, but 'tis nothing
but a pig : it might have been something worse ; yes, and it
might have been sometliing a good deal better, a log for
instance, and then its squealing wouldn't have awakened
such a deafening chorus from the dogs, who ought to keep
perfectly quiet or be simply whining on a night like this.
And ugh! again, for mishaps never come singly ; it is my
head I have hit this time, against a beam lying on the top
186 LIFE OA' THE ISTHMUS.
of posts, which may be part of the skeleton of an awning to
some building which was to have been erected, for all that I
ever found out to the contrary. Those big lanterns are not
such ridiculous affairs after all. But here we are — this is
the hotel.
Somehow, it is not a hotel suggestive of a cosy night.
There is, so to speak, a lack of those substantial, home-like,
thoroughly comfortable features which are associated in our
minds with the idea of a model hotel. There is no great
wide door, opening into a broad well-lighted hall, with a
winding staircase leading to other stories, where are snug
chambers with the anthracite throwing a kindly glow upon
the soft carpet, and neat furniture, and snowy counter-
pane of the bed. There is no parlor where the ladies have
assembled foi- a hop ; no other parlor where grey-headed
men sit gazing at the coal fire, with the morning or evening
newspaper upon their knees, and indulge in reminiscences
of the last war ; observing that when the news of peace
arrived it was a sloppy night, very much such a night as
this, in fact. There is no snuggery known as the bar-room,
reeking with odors of tobacco, lemon peel, and fragrant old
Jamaica, where young men in plaid trowsers, many-pocketed
coats, flat-brimmed hats, and neckclotlis with square ends, sit
and smoke and drink, and smoke and drink again. There
is no full-fed, ruddy-visaged landlord, whom you soon get to
know by the familiar name of " old Peter," to bid you wel-
come with as much cordiality, and order John's attention to
your luggage with as much satisfaction, as if he had been
expecting you for a month, and felt really very much relieved
that you had at last arrived. But then it is such a hotel as
one would expect, knowing that it was originally a native
ranche, and that the main building, wings, and similar
extensive additions which were to have been made to it,
SCENE AT PALENQUILLA 187
were not yet begun. It lias one room, which must be some
twelve feet square, lighted by a tallow candle on the usual
board, a notched pole leading to the attic, the customary-
furniture in the way of boxes and logs, a ground floor it is
true, but only partially appropriated by the puddles. It
seems to be taking care of itself, for no one takes any notice
of me as I enter, and indeed there is no one inside to do so ;
and to get in at all I am obliged to i-emove the arm of a
gentleman who is barricading the door, and who is very
sallow, thin, and shaky, but habited in white pantaloons and
a black dress coat, and looking like a man who had put on the
last remnants of his bravery to die. I observed jovially to
this gentleman that it is great weather, and think that I
made an allusion to " young ducks " in the same connex-
ion ; but he is past taking any notice of such trifling, or of
anything else as to that, although he afterwards turns out to
be the proprietor of the place. When this truth comes home
to me, I propose taking a glass of brandy and water. He
answers me, " There's brandy," without making any sign to
show where, or indeed looking in any direction at all, so
that I am under the necessity of hunting it up myself. The
ring of the dime upon the board in payment is equally pow-
erless to arouse him, — from what ? perhaps from a vision of
scenes and faces far enough away. I next propose, but this
time to myself, retiring for the night, and, scraping the mud
from my boots as far as practicable, and assuring myself of
the steadiness of the stick in advance, take my way to the
attic.
I must have been very tired and sleepy, for I can only
recollect one moment when the cracking of the cane floor
beneath my step chimed in beautifully with the pattering of
the heavy rain-drops on the roof, and I think slumber seized
me even as I settled down upon my primitive couch. I had
188 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
hardly lot myself, as tlie expression is, when I was again
roused to consciousness by voices in the apartment below.
The first was th.at of a woman, low and shrill, impressing
me as coming from a heart in bitterest warfare with its
destiny, and curiously at variance with the lulling sound of
the rain, and the dull, heavy, mournful gustiness of the
wind.
" Oh, John," it cried in tones of agony, " do not let him
die, he is my little angel ! John, oh, I cannot let him die !"
" Hush, dear," said another voice, the rough hard voice of
a man ; " why should we ask to have him spared ? Has
our life been so very pleasant that we should pray for a like
boon for him .?"
The words, and the tone in which they were uttered more
than the words themselves, revealed to me a picture, sudden-
ly illuminated as it were by a flash of Heaven's lightning, in
which I noted all the details of one of those unhappy lives
so commonly led by the sensitive and poor. It was with no
hope of turning back the tide of hurrying events, and yet
certainly with no idle curiosity, that I crept along over the
cane floor of my chamber towards the aperture, where I
could leisurely inspect the scene below. Oh, what would I
not have given for the power and appliances of the painter,
to have stamped its lineaments upon the canvas, even as I
saw them there ! A man and woman had entered, and were
seated side by side on two rude boxes, stationed in a corner
of the apartment, which was possibly the most comfortable
locale, if such an epithet may be applied to premises so
utterly wet and cheerless. These two persons seemed in full
possession of the house. The proprietor had either gone
out, or was coiled away to sleep in some corner hidden to
my view. A second glance revealed a third person, a child
of apparently not more than five or six summers, whose
SCENE AT PALENQUILLA. 189
emaciated and spasmodic frame was almost wholly con-
cealed by tlie protecting arms of the man, evidently his
father. This group of three was so disposed, with the
feeble candle-light falling full upon them, that, in my desire
to read their story in their faces, I almost immediately saw
their each minutest line, while all the world beside became
nothing but the blackest void, and my ear ceased to take
note of the rain and gusty wind, and heard nothing but the
outpourings of these forlorn and seemingly forgotten spirits.
The man was apparently rather under what is termed the
middle age, of small stature, wasted and thin, as if from
long care and self-denial. His attire, even in the abandon
of that out-of-the-way spot, somehow bespoke the gentleman,
and just as plainly, too, the poor gentleman. As he sat
holding his frail burden, every moment, alas ! becoming
frailer, vainly trying to soothe it to a moment's repose, and
after each unsuccessful eftbrt turning his beseeching eyes to
heaven, I could read in his sharp pale face, his high project-
ing, but not broad forehead, his quick restless eye, flashing
with a certain fire withal, and the unsteady working of his
mouth, the plainly written story of a liigh-hearted disap-
pointed man. There was something in his whole demeanor
which bespoke the man of pride, of principle, of genius too,
but also of irresolution — the most unhappy type of all God's
images on earth ; the man who, seeing the prizes with
which life's lottery is teeming, and knowing the way to
reach them, yet lacks the nerve to follow therein, because
the cowardly doubt is still there, as to whether, after all,
the highest good is thus to be obtained.
The woman, Hke the man, in one respect at least, was
" not now that which she had been," and yet there were
traces of her former better self flickering occasionally in her
faceand mien. Although no smile played upon her lips, which
190 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
were once beautiful, but were now thin and drawn tightly
together, as if to shut out from her heart the atmosphere of
a world that had never seemed to love her, and no especial
brilliance flashed upon you when the lids were raised from
eyes around which were drawn dark lines, and which stood
out in painful prominence from w^asted cheeks ; and although
lier costume was of the simplest, suggestive of a dull rou-
tine of daily tasks, and nothing of the dashiness and
bravery of life, yet there was something, not exactly visible
to the outward eye, which showed that this was not the
destiny to which she was born ; else why should I have seen
her, as in the mirror of the past, sweeping with gallant grace
adown a gilded drawing-room, or rousing to wild gaiety a
sea-shore or hearth-side party, by looks and tones fraught
with fire-like electric sparks I Even now, in that worn,
slender, compressed frame, there was secreted a possibility
of fascination, which needed only the showers "and beams of
sympathizing hearts to awaken to active being. Ye rude
ones of the world, ye who take pride in tlie scrupulous cor-
rectness of your dealings in your business relations with
other men, paying promptly your pecuniary debts even to the
uttermost farthing, but who, in the calculating and unfeeling
pursuit of your selfish ends, jostle the pure, the gentle, and the
uncomplaining from ikeir paths of life, depriving them thus
of those simple pleasures which you know not of, because
you cannot enjoy them ; think you that you will never
be called to a reckoning for this ?
And the little child, who was overleaping all this weariness
and misery of life, and was soon to be a little cherub — I
actually found myself chuckling over the idea that he was
cheating the old deceptive villain of a world, and was elud-
ing its clutches even by a stolen march to lieaven. No
frittering away of the beauty and glory of his young; life by
SCENE AT PALE SQUILL A. 191
unmanly, cankering cares. Tlie lustre of his roguish little
eye was not to be dinitned, the rosy fulness of his mischievous
mouth was not to be wholly wasted, his laughing curls were
not even to be cut, till he had lain them all in the bosom
of the rotting earth which was their mother. I have said
that he was a child of some five or six summers. There
was none of the frostiness of winter about him ; nothing
even in his form, worn bv disease, suggestive of cold or
barrenness. He was a delicate summer flower, and now
that he was being crushed to earth, it was a summer storm
that did it ; a rude gale, that might break his fragile stalk,
and scatter far and wide his fiiir frail petals, but which
would none the less certainly waft the essence of his
fragrance and loveliness far beyond the clouds.
The father sat with the child in his arms, not with any
hope of keeping him from the grasp of death, but gently
rocking him, as if trying to lull him off to slumbei", as he
had often perchance done after frolicsome days, when sleep
came with a soft and welcome tread, bringing pleasant
dreams and angel-whispers in her train. Then the sweet
vision of the morrow awakening danced before the father's
brain, and now
The mother sat by his side, with her hands clenched,
firmly knit together. She was trying to feel physically the
agon}' of sitting helpless there, while her child died. She
could not bring herself to feel it, and so she kept rising up,
looking wildly round, but, seeing no succor in any quarter,
would settle into her seat again with an agonizing groan.
" Oh, John," she would gasp out at times, " tell me, will
he live, will he be better soon, will he know his dear mother
again ? God forgive me, but I cannot — oh no, indeed, I
cannot let him die '."'
And then a^ain :
19'2 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
"Oh, why is it, why 7iiust it be so? When we left
everything else, and our other children behind us, we could
uot leave little Charlie. He was to have been our good
angel, to make every hardship light and pleasant. Tell me,
John, if there is any meaning in this blow."
" It is the penalty we pay for being poor," answered the
man bitterly.
A dark shadow, as of remorse, settled suddenly down
upon the woman's brow, as she continued wildly :
" But I thought it was enough when we buried, little
Arthur ; you said God had taken him, and it was better for
him and us. But Charlie, he has been longer with us,
and he is different from all the others ; we can never love
anything again as we have loved him. Oh, see him now ;
see his little limbs how they twine. O God, do not let
him suffer thus ! take him. if thou must, but do not let him
linger thus !" *
And the father answered solemnly, while the child's limbs
were stiff and bent in a last convulsion, and the old look of life
was fading away in his upturned eyes, and great drops of
agonizing sweat stood upon his little brow, and while greater
drops came upon the fathers face — a face whose every line
spoke a voiceless prayer to God to shorten the death strug-
gle — thus he answered :
" Yes, Mary, this suffering is very hard, almost too hard ;
but hear mo, Mary, and thank God with me that our Charlie
shall never know a suffering ten thousand" times ^'eater
than this, which you and I could not have seen and felt
for :"
" He does not suffer," said another voice close by. " Even
now, your child Charlie rejoices with the angels in the para-
dise of God."
As the \oice spoke, the painful gurgling ceased in the
SCENE AT PALENQUILLA. 193
child's throat, his limbs gradually straightened and resumed
their native grace, while a lovely radiance illumined his
beautiful countenance, as if it had caught a reflex from the
happy spirit hovering there a short moment to bid adieu to
its late tenement of clay. A peaceful, easy drawing of a
breath or two, and the last chapter of this little life on earth
■was closed.
There was silence for some minutes. The rain was over,
the winds were at rest, and a broad square of moonlight
came in through the doorway of the ranche, lighting up the
spot where sat the figures of the scene.
It was only natural that the last comer should have been
Arthur Orrington. It was particularly fitting that he should
have come at that moment — I had no curious sensation
how or whence — to form as it were a connecting, reconcil-
ing link between those afllicted spirits and the higher order
of existences, of which their child was now one. And
when, taking a hand of each within his own, he knelt before
them in prayer, I could not help feeling indeed that some-
thing of the spirit of Him who, coming down from heaven,
took upon himself the likeness even of us, and " went about
doing good," yet lingered in the form of our humanity.
His prayer was no idle expenditure of words. It rose up
from his soul like spiritual incense : and as it ascended, a
like incense from other souls mingled and rose with it, an
acceptable offering at the throne of the All-perfect. Oh,
what an odor of tearful joy, and gratitude, and hope seemed
to float upward and outward from our hearts, making the
atmosphere about us redolent of all pleasant things, when that
clear, soft, solemn voice repeated the words of our Saviour,
" Suffer little children to come unto me ;" and then the
ineflTable peace and faith which overcame us, how can I de-
scribe it, when there followed the blessed assurance, that
9
194 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
" of such was the kingdom of heaven 1" But when, for the
first tinie, the absolute certainty of their child's eternal bliss
broke upon the parents' brain ; when, following the spirit of
the prayer, they saw him sitting with the white-robed
cherubs at the feet of Christ, and knew that there should be
his home for ever, the measure of their thankfulness was
full. The great glory of the thought, that while they were
going about in quest of the treasures of earth, other hands
than those of men had been gathering treasures for them,
worth more than all the Avorlds of space, and laying them
up in those regions " where neither moth nor rust doth cor-
rupt, and where thieves do not break through and steal,"
was enough. The corpse of the child lying in its last com-
posure, as if fanned to slumber by an angel's wing, was but
typical of the perfect peace and gladness of those two spirits
bowed and silent in the presence of that sublime revelation.
It was long after the departure of Arthur Orrington, ere
a word was spoken on either side. The man and woman
sat in their respective seats, almost motionless, while the
former still held in his arms his still precious burden. At
length a loud, long sob burst from the woman, and as she
turned her face full towards me, catching meanwhile upon
her husband's arm, I saw lines of tears streaming down her
cheeck.
" John," said she, in a tone most thrillingly sad, yet ear-
nest, " I feel that I have done a great wrong, but God has
forgiven me ; can you forgive me also ?"
The man changed not his posture in the slightest, and she
continued :
" When you were in trouble, John, when the world grew
dark around you, when you hadn't a friend, John, because
you hadn't money, but when a httle money would have
made you free and happy, I had it and kept it back from you."
SCEi\E AT PALENQUILLA. 196
The man turned upon her a countenance full of emotion,
but in which was no sentiment of anger.
" Yes, John, I had money, money inherited frofti a rela-
tive, that you did not know of — and I kept it back. But
oh ! believe me, I did not keep it from avarice or mistrust ;
I kept it because I would have been too wise, and was a
fool."
In the man's countenance was an expression of earnest,
searching inquiry, which the woman interpreting, went on :
" Yes, John, I saw you suffer day by day ; I saw your
sensitive spirit goaded and made miserable ; I saw you de-
spised by mean, unworthy men, and I kept back the money
which might have made you independent of them all. But
oh ! John, I did not keep it back for myself, I kept it back
for hi7n ; yes, for him^ that I might have it to keep off the
evil of his dark day. Oh ! I thought it would come as
yours had come, when he was a handsome, high-hearted
young man, and I could not bear to think of him crushed
and disappointed, and despised of his companions. So I
said, I will save it for him, and when his dark day comes,
and he shall say to me, ' Mother, I have no friends, and no
position in the world, and I must die,' then I would bring it
forth and give it to him, and be repaid by his kisses and
his tears for all that you and I have suffered. Oh, what a
fool I was !"
The woman's tears fell in gushing rivers, but her sobs
were less wild and violent. The man wept too, but calm-
ly ; and taking her by the hand, he said, in a voice so
touchingly tender and sad that I found my own tears falling
likewise :
" You are my own dearest Mary. I love you better, ten
thousand times better than ever. Let us thank God toge-
ther that Charlie's dark day has come and gone; he will
196 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
never, never see another, never another shadow through all
eternity !"
"But, John, it was wrong to let you sufter as I did, and
wrong to wish to thwart the providence of God, and keep
ray idol from his share of the world's sorrow. Let us try
to understand this lesson. Let us go back to those who are
left to us. We shall have enough to begin life with some-
where, and we will live together, all of us. There is certain-
ly a place for us somewhere in the world, and no matter how
humbly we live. It seems to me that there cannot be any
poverty or hardship left, now Charlie is dead. Dear Char-
lie, he left us nothing but his dear, sweet memory, and yet
how rich are we in the love which he has already sent down
to us from heaven ! Let us go back, John, to where our
home was, and not care for such wealth as gold any more."
" Be it so," said the man ; and he bowed his head and
imprinted a passionate kiss upon the pale forehead of his
dead child, as if the little one, whose every word and act
had been lovely and endearing during life, had taught a yet
lovelier lesson by his death.
Afterwards, when a native woman came in, and, removing
the corpse tenderly from the father's arms, laid it upon the
counter, and proceeded to wash its face and smoothe down
its tumbled locks, but did not remove its clothes, for the
mother by signs and looks forbade, thus leading me to think
that it was a favorite suit, perchance the very one which he
wore to church, hand in hand with his proud parents — proud
of him — humble enough in so much else — on the last Sab-
bath of their sojourn in their native land — the fact of her
appearance, I say, was somehow associated in my mind with
the idea of Arthur Orrington, as if he had sent her to do
this. Calmly as she performed her delicate task, and tear-
lessly as, having prepared the body even for burial, she
SCENE AT PALENQUILLA. 197
threw over it a fragment of a cotton robe bound with a deep
fringe of elaborately-wrought lace, and then taking from a
box upon the floor two tallow candles, and lighting them
placed them at its head and feet, it required no subtle pow-
ers of penetration to see that she worked not for hire, unless
indeed payment was to be taken in looks of heart-gushing
gratitude and love. What mattered it that she was black,
and that her features were not as delicately carved as those
about her ? c In the dusky shadow of the Great Reaper's
presence, forms and colors were alike, and God, who seeth
deeper than these, knows if at that moment her spirit like-
wise was not pure and white as theirs.
I left my chamber noiselessly, and crept out tmseen. The
day was just beginning to break. It was a fresh, clear,
breezy morning. As I slid along downward toward the
beach, merry shouts came rolling up to greet me, and when
I arrived among them, all was activity and bustle. The
" poco tiempo" principle of the natives was for the time
ignored by the resolute gold-seekers, determined to get on.
Our matin hymn was " Wake up there," " Go ahead,"
" Clear the kitchen," and it rose to the melodious accompa-
niment of tin pans and portable cooking-stoves. Each was
striving to be off first, and not a little gouging was going on
in consequence, mingled with hard words and some unim-
portant skirmishes. Nevertheless, the scene was pleasant
and enlivening, so suggestive as it was of cheery life and
health and hope.
But I could not keep niy thoughts from recurring some-
times to the bereaved couple whom I had left in the ranch e
upon the hill. In imagination I saw them fulfilling their
last duties towards the precious remains of their darling
babe, putting them beneath the ground, hiding them from
198 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
their sight for ever, aud then, with faces turned homeward,
going in quite another way from the rest of us, down the
windings of thai melancholy river alone. ^
Alone ?
OORGONA. 199
CHAPTER XVIII.
GORGONA.
¥E were well away from Palenquilia before sunrise. The
crisp, cool air of the morning came winnowing over the
i-iver, its limitless wings dispersing fresh odors at every beat.
Seated beneath our awning of j^alm leaves, having completed
our ablutions in the stream beside us, and sipping the tiny
cups of strong coffee, which Thom, in his bountiful provi-
dence, had prepared for us ; nothing could be more delightful
than to feel ourselves thus gratefully bonie onward towards
our journey's end. So pleasant was the sense of overcoming
the strong current of the river, so soothing its gurgling
music as I hurried past, so refreshing the sweet scent from
odorous woodlands on either hand, so majestic and beauti-
fully solemn the view of palm, acacia, and thick-leaved
mango, dark shadowing, and seemingly impenetrable at
their base, with manifold bushes, creeping parasitical plants,
and great bunches of old spongy moss, enlivened only in
spots by scarlet or yellow blossoms, peeping forth like eyes
of flame set deep into the front of huge, shaggy, slumberous
behemoths of the wood, but with the golden sunshine just
throwing a playful flicker over their topmost boughs, and
making their wavy outlines so radiant up there against the
clear blue sky !
f^ The glorious sunshine of the tropics — how my soul
hankers after it here in my winterly New England home \J
200 LIFE Oil THE ISTHMUS.
" The cold and cloudy clime
Where I was born, but where I would not die" —
(for the present at all events). There is no other sunshine
in the world like unto it. There may be, perhaps, a faint
likeness in our early summer days, when there is wafted far
from the sweet south, a softly mellow atmosphere through
which it falls lovingly upon us from the cloudless heaven,
broken into waves of light by a golden shinamer drifting
through it, but oh, hoAv faint at best ! And again in the
autumn, the Indian summer, there is an attempt to revive it.
" When come tlie warm bright days.
As still such days will come,
To call the squirrel and the bee
From out their winter home."
But oh, how faint again — and comparatively speaking, ghastly
in its surroundings of dead leaves and naked meadows,
and how wanting in that depth and fulness which make the
presence of this so dimly but so wholly satisfying !
But while we are bestowing ourselves thus ha2>pily — and
so far silently, with the exception of Monsieur Crapolet, who
is constantly performing solos upon his nasal organ, by way
of putting an additional edge upon the olfactory nerve — it is
quite otherwise with our.boatmen. They, brave fellows that
they are, have now come to " the hard part of the river," as
they term it. And hard indeed it is for them, where in
shallow places and at sharp bends the stream fairly whistles
as it spouts by in headloug speed. They ply themselves
to their task nevertheless, with unconquerable determination.
They have laid aside their shirts, and now, attired simply in
trowsers and sombrero, throw themselves bodily upon their
bending poles, while the perspiration comes smoking from
their deep chests, as they step steadily fi'om stem to stem of-
GORGON A. 201
the struggling boat. The native boatmen in the other boats,
which are constantly passing and repassing, sometimes
getting aground in the bit of channel right ahead, and
sometimes bumping up against us, with innumerable " cara-
hos" on their side, and about an equal quantity of sturdy
oaths in the vernacular on the part of our men — not hav-
ing, I am sorry to say, an equal sense of what is demanded
by the conventionalities of civilized life, go to yet greater
lengths in disrobing themselves, and "so far as the curved
line is the line of beauty," are certainly none the homelier
for the arrangement. The imperturbable sang-froid with which
they attend to this little item of personal accommodation,
and the renewed satisfaction with which they return to their
task, is quite a sight to behold. Then the horror or disguised
merriment of the ladies, when there happen to be any in the
same boat ; or the look of comic perplexity with which the
boatmen sometimes again encase their nether limbs when
prevailed upon to do so by a liberal offer of aguardente or
eau-de-vie fi-om the gentlemen in attendance ; it is really
quite a commentary upon the morality of our social cus-
toms, and might furnish the text for a very respectable
homily. Aguardente may or may not be a decent kind of
beverage in its way, but for a Chagres native to expose his
person in unadorned development, save for a ragged girdle
about the loins, and that too in presence of eyes unused to
the contemplation of naked beauties, though perchance not
unfamiliar with the lorgnette at the Broadway or the Astor
Place — preposterous! One's ideas of decency — you know.
And speaking of lorgnettes, imagine the narrator, backed
up into a snug corner of the stern sheets of our barge, as if
it were a corner box, and gazing through his visual organs,
quickened in their powers by a concentration of purpose as
by a lorgnette, at the performances in our little theatre
0*
202 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
beneath the awning. It is quite curious to watch the play
of characters upon the stage of my inspection.
There is Judge Smithers, for instance, tall, square-framed,
large-featured, rollicking in good sense, the type of the
frank, shrewd, honest, adventurous, successful American. It
is a little remarkable that the judge should have taken such
a fancy to the rowdy, dilapidated Colonel ; yet they seem
very much pleased with each other. The Judge, as I con-
ceive, regards the Colonel as a fancy specimen of locomotive
nature, and takes delight in trotting him out, and exhibiting
his "points to admiring spectators ; and the Colonel, on his
part, looks upon the Judge as a capital fellow, in his way,
and makes quite a pet of him, as being exactly the sort of
man he might have been, had Ite thought it worth his while
to lay himself out, which, indeed, is quite natural, since it is,
doubtless, within the experience of all, that we are apt to
respect ourselves more for what we might have been than
for what we really are. The Judge is a worker and dealer
in the realities of life, and his career harmonizes with his
ideas. The Colonel has a pleasant theory, that life consists
of a series of pictures on the brain, and that the great thing
is to keep that portion of the. system in a soft and mellow
state, that these may be imprinted with due etfect ; and this
desirable result he has a trick of producing by frequent
potations. The Judge has the handsome freshness of early
manhood still upon him. The Colonel retains but little of
his pristine beauty, and if it is not all turned to ashes, it is
because the fire is still burning; but the ashes will come
nevertheless.
Monsieur Crapolet, too — such a trump as he turned out
to be, as a merry and thoroughly serviceable compac/noii de
voyage ; one up to the rare trick of turning melancholy into
a burlesque ; he was the very ace of trumps ; there was a
GORGONA. 203
golden vein of childishness running through his manly
character which the mere opulence of outward circumstances
would have made look pafe and mean ; and this was the
great charm about him, that just in proportion as he was
poor, and weak, and utterly devoid of binding attachments to
the world, he was rich, and strong, and joyous in the native
resources of his genial temperament He did not seem to
have any particular thing to live for but the enjoyment of
lite itself. He impressed me as a man who had, as it were,
ceased to recognise any high spiritual ends worth struggling
for, and had given himself wholly up to the illustration of
the glories and perfection of the physical. What he might
have become had he married Virginie or bien Mathilde,
encircled by certain conventional responsibilities, as he would
consequently have been, I cannot say — certainly not the
plump and perfect Monsieur Crapolet of the Isthmus,
He would have been w orth a fortune to the proprietor of a
cheap eating-house in Yankee-land, to have merely stood,
picking his teeth daily at his door, thus representing the
general condition of the man who eat at his place, in contra-
distinction to nine out of ten of the passers-by, who were
supposed to eat elsewhere ; Sardanapalus would have gloried
in him as a subject, so beautifully unconscious as was his
elastic form of " the weight of human misery ;" but had he
been in the place of that humane and voluptuous monarch,
I think he would have gone farther, and not content with
seeing his people " glide ungroauing to the tomb," would, in
the technical language of the day, have sent them " smiling"
to their latter homes. If Monsieur Crapolet had a principle
or theory in the world, it was that we all owed a tremendous
debt to nature, and that it would have been a grievous sin
to have turned our backs upon the more generous kinds of
nourishment which slie daily offered us ; and this was
204 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
exemplified every hour of liis life, by his conscientious selec-
tion and consumption of the richest, and most invigorating
of her juices, within the limits of his observation and means.
So fully satisfied was he of the correctness of his favorite
theory, that if any one had catechised him as to the whole
duty of man, he would, doubtless, have responded, " liqui-
date ;" and if he ever had occasion to sign his name, I feel
morally certain that it would have read, as we often see
signatures of mercantile houses in the Londoii and Paris
newspapers — " Francois Crapolet en liquidation,"
We are all of us dreamers. Were it not for dreams, life
would not be supportable ; and Monsieur Crapolet had his
dream — it was a darling" day-dream. He had nursed and
played with it so long and often, that at times he looked
upon it as a reality — a dream of great wealth, that was one
day to be his. He had very vague notions, if any, as to
where this property was to come from, or how it was to
come ; but the amount was settled — " sejjt milliards " — and
nothing remained but to lay it out in such a way as to get
the greatest possible amount of enjoyment from it. It was
a real treat the way this gentleman and Colonel Allen used
to get hobnobbing together, while discussing this expectancy ;
the touching way in which the Colonel used- to express a
hope that it might come soon — " when," as he vvas fond of
adding, " we will have some better liquor than this, Monsieur
Crapolet;" and the calm, philosophic manner in which Mon-
sieur Crapolet was wont to reply, with a shrug, " Parbleu ;"
thereby annihilating, at one blow, all doubts on tliat score,
and concluding with an observation to the effect that the
liquor was, however, very passable " en attendant.^'' It would
have been perhaps rather melancholy to have seen these two
full-grown hombres (as Judge Smithers styled them) thus
disporting with the world's serious things, but for a coavic-
GORGONA. 206
tion in my own mind that every man's existence is spent
" en attendant " something, and that without some great life-
long hope to buoy us up, we should hardly have strength to
buffet the rude waves of life.
Tom, by way of presenting Thorn to us in a new light, has
taught this whilom taciturn individual to shout " Caraho^''
at a given signal, in the most approved style of native ora-
tory. Tom sits across the boat's bow, with his feet dangling
in the stream, smoking his pipe ; and whenever a boat
manned by natives passes us, either in ascending or descend-
ing the river, Tom gives the signal, and thereupon Thorn
shouts " Caraho " at the top of his lungs, which is answered
by a deafening yell of ^^ ca7'ahoes" from the aforesaid natives,
filling the whole heavens with a horrible discord, so that even
the sleepy alligators on the river's bank are fain to slide
down under its surface, to escape the dreadful din. Tom
explains this as " fun !"
But I think, on the whole, that the Judge is our most
entertaining companion. In those graces of conversation
which may be termed anecdotical, the Judge excels. His
scenes are laid principally in Mexico and California, countries
with which the Major is likewise familiar. I Avould like to
introduce to the reader some of the Judge's stories, though
I cannot vouch for liis finding them as interesting as I did
at the time ; but 1 feel that it would be inconsistent with the
plan of this narrative to do so here. If I have lingered thus
long with our old friends, it is that we are now coming upon
a new phase of Isthmus life. We are about to plunge, as it
were, into the middle of the rush and tide thereof, and these
our fellow-yoyagcrs thus far will come up to our notice less
frequently, and be seen less closely than heretofore.
It Avas past noon when we arrived at the little cluster of
huts known as San Pablo. Here wc were to dine* There
206 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
was a crowd of boats in before us, and the old padre's ranche
upon the hill was completely besieged by the first comers;
not that there was anything especially inviting in the nature
of the refreshments for sale within, but from a kind of loaf-
ing habit, into which they had all more or less fallen, of
patronizing every ranche along the river. The fact of their
having paid a dime for a small cup of weak, muddy coflfee,
or a tiny glass of rum and turpentine, gave them the cha-
racter of injured persons in their own eyes, and warranted
their prowling moodily about the premises, pocketing an egg
or two, if there happened to be any " lying round loose," or
breaking through the picket fences, in agricultural explora-
tions.
The padre was not at home, but his wife was — a formidable
old lady, with a square, bony, masculine frame, and an im-
mensely befrizzled head of hair, into which she occasionally
stuck her lighted cigar, in the intervals of smoking. She
was quite cool and business-like amidst all the rush of cus-
tom, serving out liquor and coftee with the air of a person
who had a sacred duty to perform. She had two attendants,
one of whom, a draggle-tailed, overgi-own little girl, in a
dirty white dress, washed the coftee cups by passing them
through a tub of brown colored water upon the counter.
Her face and hands (be it observed e7i passant) bore unmis-
takable traces of having been washed in the same liquid.
The other attendant was a boy in shirt and sombrero, who
made periodical visits to a neighboring hut in search of
more coftee. This young gentleman was enough of a prac-
tical philosopher to believe in the motto, that he is rich
whose wants are few, and returned a very decided " No " to
propositions on various sides to take him along.
There was another personage in the padre's abode, who
was not "one of us." This was a Spaniard, or Spanish
GORGONA. 207
Creole of the Isthmus. He was a thin, wiry-built fellow,
very dark and sallow, with black eyes and hair, and the
never-failing moustache, habited in white pants, with long
spur-mounted boots outside, a gay red and black striped
poncho, with a red silk sash about his waist, and a neat,
narrow-brimmed Panama hat upon his head. This pictu-
resque individual lay smoking with a kind of Alexander
Selkirk air, in the one sole haniniuck of the apartment. The
coffee-bearer informed us that he was from Panama, and
had come across since sunrise ; and furthermore showed us
his mule attached to the picket inclosing a plantain patch
in the rear of the hut. This information gave us all a thrill
of pleasure. We had reached that point in the Isthmus
where the land, route was practicable for mules at all events.
The great weariness of our journey was over. " The day of
our longing" was at hand, when we would test the capa-
bilities of our favorite animals. We were really within a
few hours' jaunt of Panama. In imagination we saw the
broad surface of the Pacific, dotted with numberless green
isles, lying still and golden beneath a softer sunlight, yet
heaving inwardly with deep yearnings, drawing us thither-
ward. There was something in the scene about us sugges-
tive of the same thing. The village of San Pablo is founded
on a broad cleared plain, with here and there a few clumps
of acacias and sycamores, throwing their grateful shadows
on the green. Cropping the short herbage of this table-land,
were cows, bullocks, goats, and sheep. It was a quiet, patri-
archal-looking spot, midway on the Isthmus. The Chagres
river, which makes a sudden turn at this point, was shooting
madly towards the ocean in our rear, while immediately be-
neath us it was comparatively calm as an inland lake. Be-
yond the turning there was a precipitoifs gravel bank, which
looked as if the river had at some time leaped up against it,
208 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
and torn the shrubs and verdure fi'oni its front. Above us,
in the direction where our course lay, was a harmonious out-
line of tree and creeping vine, and pebbly beach, with the
towering peak of Carabali, from whose topmost foothold it
is said the Atlantic and Pacific may be seen at once, thrown
up like a great drift of living vegetation to mark the
spot where the winds of two oceans met in battle. But
over all the landscape on the western hand, the unclouded
rays of the sun were falling, illuminating the picture with a
brightness that was typical of the golden treasures beneath
the surface of that wondrous coast ; while in the other direc-
tion, black festoons of clouds shut out the blue sky, and the
vista of hill, and plain, and river, was hidden in storm and
mist.
Dinner over — dinner ! — some stale biscuit, tough dry
cheese, pui'chased of the padre's wife, and raw slices of ham ;
think of that, ye habitues of Parker's and Delmonico's ! — we
again took up our line of travel. Judge Sraithers, Colonel
Alien, and Tom joined a party who were going to walk into
Gorgona, and the rest of us returned to our barge. As we
threaded the windings of the river, it hourly became more
clearly evident that we were approaching the Pacific side;
the air had become more dry and pure ; clean grassy hills
rose at intervals up from the river's bank, dotted with pic-
turesque haciendas, fields of corn, rice, and {)lantains, and
groups of domestic animals ; sometimes we struggled past a
wholesome sandy beach, where some sapient-visaged cows
and flirty little horses would stand looking curiously at us,
and where there would likewise be some native women
washing and spreading out their white dresses on the sand to
dry. But these were merely suggestive specks of civiliza-
tion. The genius of uncontrolled vegetation was far from
being entirely put down, and many a long sweep in the
GORGONA. 209
river disclosed only a frowning and impenetrable hedge of
forest on either side. Black wooden crosses, occasionally seen
in the more open spots, where lay the remains of those who
" by the way side fell and perished," hinted also that danger
from disease was still dogging us like a cold unwelcome
shadow.
The Major, missing the excitement of the Judge's rerainis
cences, suggestive as they had been of similar personal
adventures of his own, and feeling, too, impressed with an
awful sense of his responsibility, now that the camels were
so soon to be put upon their pegs, was unusually silent and
meditative. And Monsieur Crapolet, suffering from a like
bereavement of his dear friend, Colonel Allen, was disposed
to be altogether retrospective in his fancies, and pertina-
ciously edified as to what a distinguished and useful mem-
ber of society he would have been had he been fortunate
enongh to marry "Virginie, ou bien Mathilde." And
whether it was owing entirely to this somniferous state of
things, or in part to my having watched the whole of the
preceding night ; one thing is certain, that I soon fell into a
sound dreamless slumber.
A roar and buzz of confused noises, jabbering of natives,
shouts and. singing on the part of more pretentious indi-
viduals, neighing of horses, lamentations of mules, barking of
dogs, with a faint shade of melody as from banjo and tam-
borine, drifting through it all, awakens me. Our boat has
come to a sudden stop in the midst of a hundred other boats.
A long low sandy beach on my right, checkered with piles of
luggage, prostrate forms, miners' tents, imder-sized shingle
palaces, and native huts ; a steep embankment rising from it,
adorned with similar styles of architecture on a somewhat
larger scale ; a thousand hghts moving and glimmering
everywhere — a promiscuous mass of animal life, brute and
210 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
human, swarming over the whole; on the other hand the
deep dark silent woods, skirting the sluggish water of the
stream on which we ride — all this, dimly lighted by the just
rising moon, is the vision upon which my eyes open — and
this is Gorgona.
Here comes a man with a bull's-eye lantern in his hand,
striding across the boats which intervene between us and
the shore, in the direction of our own.
" Sev^en sleepers ahoy !" shouts a well known voice.
" Hulloa, Tom ! that you «"
"Hulloa, yourself — where have you been to this Dutch
month ?" responds Tom.
" Well, really — I — I rather think we have been aground,
somewhere below here — Is it very late ?"
" Low tide in the demijohn !" suggests Tom, turn-
ing his light upon the still sleeping form of Monsieur
Crapolet.
Tom stoops over the boat's side, and drawing a calabash
of water proceeds very tenderly to bathe Monsieur Crapo-
let's wrists and temples, and speedily brings that gentleman
to a knowledge of his whereabouts. Monsieur Crapolet's
first inquiry is for Thoni, and his second is of Thorn as to
whether " there is anything left."
" But, Tom, where is the Major and our boatmen ?" 1
inquired.
Tom replies, that they are below, assisting in landing the
camels ; that the Major and Judge Smithers propose stopping
in the tents with our Moors till morning ; and, as he assures
us that it is some distance below, and that everything is going
on right there, we follow his advice, and, leaving Thom to
look out for our effects in the boat, take our very uncertain
way on shore ; not, however, before Tom has made glad the
heart of Monsieur Crapolet, by producing a small flask of
GORGON A. 211
what he, Tom, styles the veritable Otard, Dupuy & Co., from
which we each take " a moderate quencher."
Tom is full of talk. Oh, he has been here full six hours —
was in before sunset, in fact. Met with innumerable adven-
tures on the road — got lost— saw a big snake — danced two
fandangoes — helped to bury a native — shot a monkey — found
a little pig — didn't belong to anybody, so brought him along
— had him cooked for supper at the hotel — great times up
at the hotel — Miller's railroad house — liquor rather so-so, but
first-rate cigai-s — grand ball at the Alcalde's— all the aristo-
cracy present — a party of Ethiopian serenaders at Miller's,
assisted by a French girl, styled in the bills " Mademoiselle
Adele, la Rossignol Fran^aise." So Tom rattles on pell-mell,
leading one to surmise that Otard, Dupuy & Co. are the
glasses through Avhich everything appears so charming to
him.
" But the greatest thing," adds Tom, " is, that one of our
old college friend* is here. Now, Warrener, who do you
think it is ?"
" Can't say, really."
"Why, Jack Tabor — brought up here — still seeking his
fortune, after having been round the world two or three times
since he ran away from Cambridge. What a wild devil
Jack was — eh ? Jack Tabor — old Quin. Oh, dear me 1"
" You don't mean to say that Jack is in business here ?"
"But I do," continued Tom ; "and here is his house" —
pausing in front of one of the more unpretending palaces,
festooned above the door of which was what at first sight
appeared to be a stout bit of rope, or a double-headed snake,
but which we afterwards found to be an animal appendage
significant of the name of the hotel — to wit, the " Mule's
Tail."
A conversation of a bargaining character was going on
212 LIFE ON THE ISTrlMUSi.
"vvithiu. " Come," said a deep, powerful voice, which we
instantly recognised as that of Tabor, " what do you say ?
Will you join us ? We need three to do the business right.
You can't do better — you know you're only a poor raga-
unifBn now. Here, take the pipe,, and call the thing closed."
" The subscriber," replied a husky, tremulous voice,
" don't need to be reminded of his poverty ; although he
may say that he has expectations, through a French cousin,
who is heir to an immense estate, of seven hundred thousand
million pounds sterling ; and as for his costume, why, it ain't
the best, he knows (the rascal was habited at the time in a
miscellaneous assortment of dry goods, borrowed from the
wardrobes of the Judge, Tom, the Major, and myself ) ; but,
Mr. Tapir, take the subscriber's hat on that, if he had the
whole money he expects in his hands now, and was rigged
up like a king of the Cherokee nation to boot, why, he'd go
in with you, Mr. Tapir, in this business under con — con-
sideration — he'd be so much yours, Mr. Tapir, that he'd have
nothing left for himself. See small bills !"
Jack Tabor was leaning in his old well remembered manly
fashion up against-oue side of his hotel, as we entered. Jack
was the same tall, square-shouldered, full-chested, broad,
clear-visaged man that I had known him years before. He
was a little browner than when a htudeiit at Cambridge; a
little more sallow, likewise, and wore a ]irofuse moustache
and very short liair; but he was as beaming and handsome
a fellow as ever. Jack was attired loosely in cotton trowsers,
shirt, and slippers, outwardly and physically, as doubtless
inwardly and morally, in dishabille. Near Jack, and leaning
up against the same side of the building, was another indi-
vidual, not so prepossessing in his personal appearance. He
was somewhat shorter, very much thiimer, particularly in
the neighborhood of the chest, with a slouchy, shirking look
GORGONA. 213
about him, as if Lis frame had been bunglingly stitched
together, ia lieu of beiug fitted in the usual way, and an
altogether hang-dog expression of countenance. He had a
thin, seedy beard, a yellow skin, blood-shot eyes, and a
genei-al uncombed and unwashed appearance. He resembled
Jack in one particular — his attire, which was of the same
modest style, both as to quantity and quality. In all other
respects, no two could be more utterly unlike. The third
personage present — who was seated in a chair by a small
table (the only furniture in the apartment, unless a row of
movable shelves, adorned with bottles, decanters, and drink-
ing vessels could come under that head), the reader has
already recognised as Colonel Allen. Jack was, at the
moment of our entrance, reaching over to remove a short
wooden pipe from the mouth of his unprepossessing com-
panion, preparatory to handing the same to Colonel Allen,
that the bargain which had already been verbally consum-
mated might be ratified on his part by a solemn smoke of
the mutual pipe.
" Jack," said Tom, calling his attention our way, " here's
another of the old guard, Joe Warrener."
Jack turned upon us the same frank, genial look which
had, in other days, been the admiration of the class.
" Shall it be hot whiskey-punch, gentlemen ?" said he,
taking a hand of each, and squeezing mine till it seemed to
be fast in a vice.
We could do no otherwise than nod assent.
" But, Joe," continued he, addressing himself to me, " you
look shaky ; never mind, a few glasses — hot, will bring you
up. But what rosy god is this in your train ; as far as one
can judge by personal appearance, this might be Don
Bacchus himself?"
I presented " Monsieur Crapolet" —
214 LIFE ON THE ISTHMUS.
" My French cousin," murmured Colonel Allen.
" The rich expectant," said Jack. " Sir, I bid you welcome
to the Mule's Tail."
" So you are actually established in the refreshment line
at Gorgona ; eh, Jack 'f said I.
" True," said Jack, " and that reminds me. This gentle-
man," turning to Colonel Allen, "whom we have just
admitted as a partner, you seem to be already acquainted
with ; but so far as this gentleman goes, I believe you have
not the honor," turning to the ill-looking man — " This is
Captain Gaitey, gentlemen, a hero and a scholar ; a perfect
gentleman, though he don't look like it."
An awkward suspicious nod from the Captain here illus-
trated the truth of Jack's latter observation.
" Captain Gaitey don't look very well just now, because
he ain't dressed up," continued Jack, " but he is a very fine
man. He has been almost everywhere and almost every-
thing. His last business, previous to becoming a joint
partner of mine in the Mule's Tail, was in the chain-gang at
Havana. The Captain can tell you all about the horriJ)le
impositions practised upon foreigners, in the chain-gangs, by
the miserable Cubans. Captain Gaitey, just pull up your
trowsers a little, and show these gentlemen the marks of the
iron on your legs."
The Captain's brow^ had been gradually darkening during
this expose of Jack's, and this unceremonious allusion to
his legs was not at all to his taste.
" I don't tink," said he, speaking broken English, " dat
dese gentlemen take any 'ticlar interest in de personal con-
dition ob my legs."
"' Oh, yes, they do," persisted Jack. " They know you've
been unfortunate, and they like you all the better ; haul up
your trowsers."
GORGON A. 215
But the Cfiptaia still hesitating — "Never mind now,"
continued Jack, considerately, " these gentlemen are in no
Lurry, some other time will do as well ; and now go and
get a pitcher of hot water."
Captain Gaitey, hy way of proving to us that his legs,
notwithstanding any indignity they might have suffered
from the Cubans, were still in working order, set off with
the pitcher in hand, and presently returned with the desired
liquid.
We drank merely a couple of rounds, by which time both
Tom and Colonel Allen began to show symptoms of going
to sleep on the premises ; and Captain Gaitey, not appearing
in the mood to drop any crumbs of wisdom from his stores
of experience for our edification, I proposed going up to the
hotel for the night.
" Well," said Jack, " I guess it's about time ; we usually
close at half-past eleven, but it's a kind of a broken up night
to-night, and it seems we've run along to near one. Lead
off, Captain Gaitey, and show the gentlemen the way to
Miller's -I'll shut up shop."
* -k * -* * *
Jack — there's many a nodding reader will thank you for
that suggestion. This narrative of. mine is likewise a kind
of a broken up affair, and it seems that I too have run along
a little beyond the prescribed limits; it's time to shut up
shop. Should the reader at any future day, following the
morrow's example of Tom and Colonel Allen, manifest a
desire to return to his or her soporific, I shall be most happy
to deal it out, " time and tide" permitting.
Until then, dear companion of my pleasant moments-
meaning, of course, the reader — fare thee well.
THE END.
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