THE VOYAGE. 21 



river is crossed twice within a mile on iron 

 bridges, we ascend gradually (the gradient being 

 about sixty feet in the mile) to reach the water- 

 shed, over which the descent commences to 

 the Pacific. About a mile from the summit 

 the line winds through a huge pile of basaltic 

 columns, that look as if some Titan force had 

 hurled them into the air, and let them fall again 

 one over the other, like a mass of driftwood 

 piles itself in a North American river. Below, 

 the Rio Grande may be seen, a mere brawling 

 burn ; a short distance through thick woods, 

 and we are at Paraiso ; as unlike one's ideal 

 of paradise as Cremorne Gardens or RatclifF 

 Highway. Again we reach the swampy low- 

 lands with their dense growths; ahead, and 

 looming high in the glowing atmosphere, stands 

 Mount Ancon, whose southern base is bathed 

 by the blue w r aters of the Pacific ; on the left, 

 Cerro-de-los-Buccaneros, or the Hill of the Buc- 

 caneers, from whose summit the terrible Morgan 

 first looked on old Panama in the year 1670. 

 We rattle past San Pedro Miguel and Caimi- 

 tillo, small tidal tributaries to the Rio Grande, 

 scream through the Rio Grande Station, sweep 

 round the base of Mount Ancon ; and before 

 us are the tall spires of the cathedral, the long 



