THE VOYAGE. 1] 
stowed away in the goods-vans of the Panama 
Railway Company. 
An invitation from the manager of the railway 
to the Commissioner to sleep at their messhouse 
was by him gladly accepted; a favour not ex- 
tended to myself, so I had to take up my quarters 
at the ‘Howard House.’ Now the ‘Howard House’ 
was managed precisely on the same plan as a tra- 
velling wild-beast show ; the entire attraction was 
on the outside. The bar-room, brilliantly lighted, 
and glittering with gilt, glass, and gaudy orna- 
ments, was open to the street ; an array of rock- 
ing-chairs, before the pillars supporting the ve- 
randah, enabled the luxurious lounger to sit 
with his heels higher than his head, and in smoky 
abstraction contemplate his toes. The barman, 
all studs and shirt-front, hardly deigned to 
answer my request for a bed, but, pointing 
to the entry-book, said, ‘ Waal, you’d better 
sign.’ My name duly inscribed on the page 
of a huge and particularly soiled book, a key 
was handed me, adorned with a brass label, 
attached to a chain of like material, with 
No. 10 on it. ‘Guess, stranger, I want a dollar— 
and you jist look here: there are two beds, so 
if anyone comes along, he'll jist have to room 
with you.’ This I decidedly objected to. ‘ Waal, 
