the beach near us, was the stranded wreck of the British ship Avon, a large, noble vessel, lying on her side. In a gale some time ago, she dragged her anchors, I believe, and was blown by the wind far up on the sand.
It was quite a picturesque scene at the cars, in the early morning light. We passed through a small grove of cocoa-nuts. I really was disappointed in them; but these were dwarf-trees, and not good samples. The passengers were standing in groups with their bags at their feet, or on the head of some native near by. The cars were before us, and native women passed about with their waiters of fruit and cakes. They were dressed in white or light-colored muslin or calico skirts, flounced, torn, and dirty; a white chemise, with a ruffle round the neck trimmed with lace, and a bandanna handkerchief tied round the head completed their toilet. In a picture it would look very well; as it was, one dreaded too close a contact, they were so dirty. Some of their attitudes were very graceful. The men had on shirts and pantaloons, the former generally worn as a sack. After much scrambling, we were seated in the cars, hot and disgusted.
"Hot, aunty, and in January too?" said Carrie.
If you look on your map, you will find that Aspinwall is not very far from the equator. They have no winter there, and the sun is very powerful.
Soon after we started, all other feelings were lost in intense delight at the luxuriant tropical verdure about us. Aspinwall is on a coral island close to the shore, and is low and unhealthy. The name of the island is Manzanilla. The natives call the town Colon, from Columbus or Christoval Colon, as his name is in Spanish. The railroad was five years in being built, under almost unheard-of difficulties; and any person going over it might learn to appreciate some of them, after seeing the rich, tangled, luxuriant vegetation in the low, wet grounds. How I longed to know the names of the beautiful flowers fringing the road; but no one could tell me. First we passed through a swamp of purple and white azaleas; then one of snowy callas; then near a bank hidden from view by heavy morning-glory vines in bloom, still dripping with dew. We saw a great many specimens of what I was told was the "long palm;" it looked to me like a kind of brake or fern, with drooping branches twenty feet in length. There were trees with hardly a leaf; but each branch and twig crowned with orange-yellow blossoms. Again we would see a tree covered with feathery, purple flowers. Along some parts of the way, was a profusion of "Indian shot," so called, I suppose, because the seeds are black, hard, and round, looking like large shot. Here and there drooped a vine with brilliant scarlet blossoms. Once in a while we would see the deep green of the orange-tree, or the lighter foliage of the lemon, and finally a banana-tree, with its bunch of fruit, gladdened my eyes. There were many trees with parasitic plants growing on them, looking as if ropes were hanging from them. It is said that if one of these groves of ferns on the Isthmus is cut down, in three months the vegetation has grown so rapidly as to look as if no human hand had ever interfered with them. One wanted several pairs of eyes to take in all the beauty of the scene.
There were various way-stations upon the railroad, having neat white houses, with a piazza upon both stories. Before and around some of them are pretty gardens, with bright flowers, conspicuous among them being our fragrant roses, such as rarely bloom with us except in green-houses. We passed many native huts grouped in small villages, with their inhabitants sitting in the doorway or lounging about the premises, the children running round half naked or entirely so. Most of these people are freed Jamaica slaves. They seemed to be a happy but indolent race. Fruits grow about them with such prodigality as to require but little exertion to obtain the necessities of life. Their huts are made of bamboo rods, thatched with palm-leaves.
But there is the tea-bell.
III
Panama
"COME, come, aunty," shouted Willie, "the clock has struck four; so put down your sewing, and tell us about Panama. We've finished our work beautifully, grandma says." So I began.
When we reached Panama, about nine o'clock, it was very warm and sultry. The soil is sandy. Though the present city of Panama is not more than two hundred years old, it has an ancient and dilapidated appearance. The climate is such that even the stones decay, and worms destroy the wood. The houses are all tiled and look oddly enough. The tiles resemble the half of an earthen water-pipe, and are of a light brick-color. We had quite a laugh on the wharf at our grotesque appearance, likening ourselves to emigrants; for our bags, chairs, shawls, and umbrellas were all laid in a heap, and grandma and I sat on them, while grandpa went off to make arrangements for going on board the steamer, or spending the day in the city. The natives bowed before us with their baskets of fruit, which they offered for sale.
"What fruit was it, aunty?" asked little Alice.
Mangoes, pineapples, limes, oranges, and bananas. They had also rolls, cakes, and pies. Then some came with the native wine, and with milk and lemonade, which the man said was "nice lomonard!"
We decided to stay in Panama until afternoon, when a small boat would take us off to our noble steamship, the Constitution. We left our baggage at the station, and took the railway omnibus, drawn by mules, which were driven by a negro, up to the "first-class hotel, – the Aspinwall House." He took us a distance of half a mile, perhaps, at the moderate charge of fifty cents apiece! The streets of Panama are very narrow, and the driver had to call out every once in a while to clear the road, so that we might pass. The hotel is built round a court. The parlor is in the third story, and is quite comfortably furnished, while from the walls hang oil paintings, which, with their frames, might in New York be worth two dollars and a half apiece. Two long windows opened out on a balcony, and commanded a view of the hoary tiled roofs of the city. There was a center-table in the room, which interested me much. It had pictures pasted under the varnish, some colored, some not. There was a pair of scissors, a pen, a needle-case, wafers, – all looking just as if you could pick them up. What a nice breakfast we had there! every thing tasted so good on shore.
"Aunty," said Harry, "tell us what you had for breakfast."
Let me see if I can remember. First we had fish and eggs, with fried potatoes and bananas. Then we had beefsteak, coffee, tea, and iced claret, as it isn't safe to drink the water there.
After breakfast, we sallied out to see the sights. We walked across the public square, down to the fortifications, and there gathered some beautiful yellow flowers, which I pressed. We saw plenty of natives in their scant dresses. One little black fellow I was particularly amused with. He had on a little blue shirt, which his mother had tied up in a knot in the middle of his back; and there he was enjoying his mud pies, and keeping his clothes clean too. We walked down on the beach outside the city walls; for Panama is a walled town. Here we picked up shells on the sand. The little crabs were very thick, and scampered away from under our feet to their sandy holes, the opening of which looked as round and even as if made by a cane, – just such as I used to make when I was a little girl, after a hard rain, with the tip of my umbrella. As we wandered over the rocks, for it was low tide, we found an exquisite little natural aquarium, all stocked with its tiny inhabitants. It was a circular rock, with two irregular terraces, and at its top a little basin, deep here and shallow there; its bottom was all covered with little spots of pearly whiteness, looking as if inlaid. The little shell-fish clung lovingly to its side; the crabs, in their borrowed tenements, crept securely about; and the funny little fishes darted through the cool, clear waters. Many a wealthy nobleman would like to have that treasure of nature in his garden; yet perhaps no human eye had ever noted its beauty before.
"Aunty, what do you mean by the borrowed tenements of the crabs?" asked Carrie.
There is one kind of crab that likes to live in a shell; so if they find one empty, they take possession of it; they are called "hermit crabs." We often used to pick up a shell with a crab in it.
At three o'clock we went to the cathedral, which was open at that hour. The front of it is rather imposing; but the doors are roughly boarded up, and do not look as well as our common barn-doors.
