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THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



PEDRO MIGUEL LOCKS ILLUMINATED AT NIGHT 



Photograph by H. G. Cornthwaite 

 PANAMA CANAL 



"Something happened to us that night at Pedro Miguel. Looking back on it all, I can hardly 

 persuade myself that it is not a dream" (see text, page 15). 



larger, than Cristobal — uninhabited and 

 exactly similar in character. Nominally, 

 they belong to Ecuador. Here, surely, is 

 a new field for enterprise. 



In the midst of the valley, situated on 

 a hillock and surrounded by the peons' 

 grass houses, is the owner's house. Here 

 we met, at a dinner of strange but appe- 

 tizing dishes, the accountant and the 

 comisario, the former a rotund little gen- 

 tleman with very long thumb nails (the 

 insignia of the brain worker), which he 

 clicked together with gusto when excited 

 or amused ; the latter a tall, handsome 

 youth and something of an exquisite, if 

 one may judge by cream-colored silk 

 socks and an esthetic tie. 



DINNER, A CHEERFUL OCCASION 



It was a cheerful occasion, followed by 

 the best coffee I have ever tasted and 

 songs to a guitar accompaniment. 



( )ut in the compound, under the stars, 

 the peons also indulged in a New Year 

 fiesta; so that by midnight the place was 

 a blur of tobacco smoke, oil flares, thrum- 

 ming guitars, gyrating, bright-hued pon- 

 chos, with their owners somewhere in- 

 side them, dogs, chickens, and children. 



Every one seemed thoroughly happy 



and contented. And, after all, what else 

 matters? That is the Ecuadorean point 

 of view, and who shall say it is a bad 

 one? 



ONL OP TPIE MANIFOLD JOYS OP ONP/S 

 OWN SHIP 



A star-lit ride to the beach, a few 

 strokes of the oars, that carve deep cav- 

 erns of phosphorescent light in the inky 

 waters, and we are again aboard. And 

 herein lies one of the manifold joys of 

 one's own ship. One may travel at will 

 over the highway of the earth, carrying 

 his home and his banal, but treasured, 

 belongings with him. Like the hermit- 

 crab, he may emerge where and when he 

 wills, take a glimpse at life thereabouts, 

 and return to the comfort of accustomed 

 surroundings — a pipe-rack ready to hand, 

 a favorite book or picture placed just so. 



Sheltered by a coral reef that broke 

 the force of the Pacific rollers and with 

 holding-ground of firm, white sand, we 

 made up arrears of sleep that night, and 

 scattered after breakfast to explore the 

 beach. 



There was a lagoon swarming with 

 duck, not half a mile inland, that at- 

 tracted Steve and his new twelve-bore 



