Chap. III.—B. S.] 
CORINTO. 
37 
guns, drawing nineteen feet of water, into Corinto, 
and anchored her off the Custom House. The town 
of Corinto is built on a large island, the greater part 
of which is covered with mangroves, and other littoral 
vegetation, the hotbeds of mosquitoes and sandflies. 
There are a few good houses, but most of the buildings 
are mere huts, inhabited by negroes and half-castes. 
There was only one i nn at the place then (there are two 
now), which from its peculiar shape, the foreigners 
had nick-named u Hotel Haystack,” a long, low, barn¬ 
like building, with one large room in the centre, with¬ 
out windows, and on one side little dark cabins, each 
with a bed in, and scarcely large enough to turn one¬ 
self round. Everything was dusty, close, and gloomy, 
contrasting unfavourably with the clean, airy, and 
cheerful steamer just left. The best part of the 
whole inn was the bar, which was richly stored with 
all kinds of liquor, and seemed to be conducted on 
American principles. The dinner was a good one for 
the country, though I did not think so at the time, 
spoilt as we Europeans are in that respect ; and if it 
had not been for a dish of cabbage-palm, which I ate 
as a botanical curiosity, and the civility of the land¬ 
lord, whom I did not like to offend, I do not think I 
could have tasted anything. 
Here I met Captain Cauty, an Englishman, who had 
been many years in different parts of Central America, 
had been rash enough to mix himself up with the 
politics of the country (which no sensible foreigner 
should do), and had lost his little all when the party 
whose interests he advocated was driven from power. 
