Sept,  t,  1892.] 
THE  TROPICAL  AGRICULTURIST. 
175 
tent,  but  every  acre  is  cultivated,  chiefly  in  sugar- 
cane, and  altogether  the  best  cultivated  little  tro- 
pical colony  I have  come  across ; densely  populated, 
chiefly  negroes,  who  look  much  happier  and  better 
off  than  the  “ poor  whites.”  The  English  language 
only  is  spoken,  spoken  with  a terrific  fluency  and  an 
unmistakeable  Irish  brogue.  Readers  of  Carlyle's 
“ Cromwell  ” will  not  be  at  a loss  to  account  for 
this,  remembering  how  Oliver  sent  so  many  of  his 
refractory  Irishmen  there.  “Terrible  Protector!" 
exclaims  the  sage.  “ Can  take  your  estate — your  head 
off,  if  he  likes.  He  dislikes  shedding  blood,  but  is 
very  apt  to  Barbadoes  an  unruly  man ; has  sent, 
and  sends  up  in  hundreds  to  Barbadoes,  so  that  we 
have  made  an  active  verb  of  it — Barbadoes  you.” 
Again,  in  one  of  the  Protector's  characteristic  epis- 
tles, we  read  that  1,000  Irish  girls  were  sent ; “ and, 
as  to  the  rogue  and  vagabond  species  in  Scotland, 
we  can  help  you  at  any  time  to  a few  hundreds  of 
these ! ” An  Irish  fellow- passenger  hearing  his 
own  language  so  well  accented,  enquired  of  a Bar- 
badoes negro  working  at  Jamaica,  “ How  long  have 
you  been  here?”  “Nome  years,”  was  the  reply. 
“Be  jabbers ” said  my  friend,  “if  you’ve  got  black 
like  that  in  noine  years,  it’s  high  time  I were  off 
home  again.” 
Jamaica  has  a magnificent  harbour,  from  which 
superb  views  of  the  grand  old  Blue  Mountains  are  to 
be  seen.  Kingston,  the  capital,  is  spread  out  on  the 
rich  flat  land  lying  between,  sweltering  under  a blaz- 
ing sun,  from  which  even  the  laughing  negro  is  glad 
to  take  shelter  below  the  umbrageous  trees.  The  cli- 
mate and  vegetation  strikingly  remind  one  of  Ceylon, 
but  alas ! the  abandoned  hill-sides  testify  to  the 
greater  labour  difficulties  of  the  poor  planter  here. 
A few7  days  more,  and  we  heave  in  sight  of  the 
Isthmus  of  Panama.  Generally  speaking,  the  first 
land  seen  is  Porto  Bella,  in  the  Gulf  of  Darien, 
which  reminds  us  of  a chapter  in  Scottish  history  we 
would  fain  forget  if  we  could.  Here,  about  300 
years  ago,  some  of  the  very  cream  of  our  country- 
men were  landed,  and  sacrificed  to  the  contemptible 
jealousies  of  our  neighbours.  Terrible  was  the  loss 
to  so  poor  a country,  and  heroic  was  the  struggle, 
but  it  was  of  no  avail  against  such  fearful  odds  ; and 
now  the  only  really  useful  lesson  we  can  learn  from 
the  disaster  is,  that  even  Scotchmen  are  not  equal  to 
manual  labour  in  the  tropics ; and  whatever  induce- 
ments selfish  individuals,  or  soulless  companies  may 
hold  out,  it  may  be  accepted  as  a general  rule  that 
Europeans  are  unfitted  for  field  labour  in  purely  tro- 
pical temperatures.  It  may  be  all  very  well  for  over- 
seers who  live  in  luxurious  bungalows,  and  view  their 
fields  from  under  the  shade  of  ample  umbrellas,  but 
it  means  death  to  the  exposed  pick-and-shovel  man. 
No;  Europeans  or  men  from  temperate  regions  do 
not  readily  acclimatise  to  the  tropics,  and  for  that 
matter,  as  far  as  my  experience  goes,  the  same  rule 
holds  good  in  the  vegetable  kingdom  : for,  although 
nearly  all  our  most  cherished  plants  come  to  us  from 
near  the  Equator,  we  cannot,  as  a rule,  induce  our 
native  trees  to  take  root  there. 
Colon,  our  first  landing  port,  apart  from  its  lux- 
urious vegetation,  is  a very  wretched  spot.  It  is  only 
in  a Spanish  Republic  where  the  existence  of  such 
a pestiferous  place  is  possible.  It  is  not  merely  the 
disreputable  appearance  of  its  degenerate  people,  nor 
the  frequent  squabbles,  dignified  by  the  name  of 
revolutions,  we  have  to  fear,  but  the  ever  present 
filth,  which  is  much  more  dangerous  to  life.  Fortu- 
nately, a fire  has  recently  burned  down  and  purified 
a large  portion  of  the  town  of  Colon,  rendering  it, 
for  the  time,  less  dangerous  to  sojourners.  A statue 
to  Columbus  stands  at  the  entrance  of  that  now  aban- 
doned project,  the  Canal.  Poor  Lesseps  ! would  that 
he  had  been  content  with  his  success  at  Suez  ! This 
gigantic  failure — a failure  so  tremendous  that  the 
very  ruins  may  be  said  to  be  stupendous — must  for 
many  years  to  come  form  a melancholy  subject  of 
comment,  as  passengers  ride  along  the  margin  of  the 
unsightly  ditch.  What  a sad  sacrifice  of  human  life 
and  carefully  accumulated  wealth  this  unfinished 
ditch  and  surrounding  d&>ris  represent ! There  is 
little  hope  of  the  work  ever  being  finished  by  French- 
men now;  indeed,  we  are  told  that  by  agreements 
the  Columbian  Republic  can  next  year  lay  claim  to 
the  works  as  they  stand,  and  mean  to  do  so. 
The  railway  on  which  we  cross  the  Isthmus  belongs 
to  an  American  Company,  and  Jonathan  knows  well 
how  to  make  the  most  of  it.  No  such  exorbitant 
charges  would  be  tolerated  in  any  civilised  country, 
and  beyond  the  mere  cost  of  ticket  and  transport  of 
baggage,  the  amount  of  palm-oil  one  has  to  expend 
on  officials  in  order  to  get  along  at  all,  is  simply 
inquitous.  “Ah!  but,”  says  Jonathan,  “you  little 
know  how  costly  this  railway  has  been.  Every  sleeper 
it  rests  upon  cost  a life."  It  takes  about  four  hours 
to  get  over  the  forty-five  miles  of  comparatively  flat 
land  dividing  the  Pacific  and  Atlantic  Oceans,  and 
such  is  the  condition  of  the  first-class  American  car- 
riages, that  a shower  of  rain  renders  the  use  of  an 
umbrella  absolutely  necessary,  unless  one  is  desirous 
of  a shower-bath. 
The  outlook  from  the  carriage  windows  is  not  ex- 
actly inviting : deserted  villages,  palatial  bungalows 
abandoned,  ponderous  machines  rusting  among  the 
malarious  jungle,  flit  past  in  slow  succession,  while 
at  the  various  stations  a few  poor  ghostly  whites, 
and  hundreds  of  dark  and  liungry-looking  old  Canal 
labourers,  scramble  to  make  a penny  out  of  the  sym- 
pathetic passengers.  The  luxuriant  vegetation  is  the 
only  relief  to  the  eye,  and  it  is  impossible  to  believe 
that  these  beautiful  shrubs,  trees  and  creepers,  could 
not  be  turned  to  some  useful  purpose.  There  is  not 
an  acre  of  real  cultivation  ; we  simply  pass  between 
living  walls  of  natural  greenery — the  beautiful  banana 
leaf,  the  graceful  bamboo,  and  curious  mangrove, 
the  glossy  mangoe  tree  and  feathery  palms,  all  mixed 
up  with  ferns,  orchids  and  creeping  flowers  of  every 
possible  form  and  hue.  By  those  who  have  never 
left  a temperate  region,  the  astonishing  variety  of 
plants  near  to  the  Equator  can  scarcely  be  realised. 
A more  beautiful  situation  for  a city  than  that 
of  Panama,  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  in  the  world. 
The  noble  and  ever  tranquil  bay  is  dotted  over  with 
the  most  exquisitely  arranged  islands — from  one  to 
a hundred-and-fifty  acres  in  extent — closely  clothed 
with  evergreen  trees,  glossy  shrubs,  and  flowering 
creepers  down  to  the  water’s  edge ; the  little  hills 
around  the  city  are  covered  with  rich  and  varied 
vegetation ; while  the  valleys  teem  with  giant  trees, 
amongst  the  most  useful  and  beautiful  in  the  vege- 
table world. 
Of  the  city  itself  I have  little  to  say.  There  is 
the  usual  plethora  of  Roman  Catholic  churches  and 
American  bars,  while  Lesseps  has  added  one  sub- 
stantial building  in  the  shape  of  a handsome  range 
of  now  tenantless  offices,  but  the  streets  are  atro- 
ciously rough,  and  the  sanitary  condition  indescriba- 
bly bad.  This,  I feel  sure,  has  more  to  do  with 
the  unhealthiness  of  the  place  than  anything  else. 
The  climate  is  humid  and  warm,  but  so  are  many 
places  in  India  and  elsewhere  in  the  tropics,  and  it 
would  be  absurd  to  think  that  a mere  strip  of  land 
lying  between  the  Pacific  and  the  Atlantic  would 
continue  to  be  specially  unhealthy  if  cleared,  drained 
and  cultivated  like  any  other  civilised  country.  As 
it  is  at  present,  the  cemeteries  tell  their  own  sad 
tale— an  ample  acreage,  but  filled  to  overflowing. 
On  the  one  hand,  as  we  drive  along  into  the  sub- 
urbs, lie  the  remains  of  the  common  herd,  little 
wooden  crosses  being  deemed  sufficient  to  mark  their 
resting-place.  On  the  other  side,  a smaller  enclosure 
evidently  contains  tombs  of  a more  select  kind,  the 
marble  and  Aberdeen  granite  head-stones  testifying 
to  the  goodness,  greatness  or  powers  of  the  departed. 
Historically,  Panama  is  chiefly  interesting  to  us 
as  the  quondam  headquarters  of  the  Spaniards  dur- 
ing the  years  they  were  spying  out,  with  envious 
eyes,  that  great  land  of  promise  Peru.  'Twas  from 
here,  360  years  ago,  that  the  bastard  but  ambitious 
swine-herd,  Pizarro,  set  sail  with  his  cruel  and 
greedy  adventurers.  Let  us  follow  him.  Afar  joff  as 
it  is,  we  can  imagine  with  what  impatience  the 
months  and  years  were  spent  in  sailing  to  and  fro, 
while  reconnoitring  his  prey  ; but  it  seems  ridiculous 
to  either  credit  or  altogether  blame  Pizarro  for  the 
so-called  conquest  of  Peru:  a man  who  could  not 
read  a line  in  his  own  mother  tongue,  whose  sig- 
nature was  a clumsy  cross,  whose  only  redeeming 
