26 
GUATEMALA. 
tion sinks the great steamer into the little caravel, and 
the feelings of the conquistadores are mine for the time. 
Soon the white sails drop out from the foliage, the canoes 
are seen rapidly approaching, and the chatter of Caribs, 
both men and women, banishes all day-dreams. 
The “ Progreso,” once a Buzzard Bay racer, sails rapidly 
out and takes on board her cargo, —my friend, his mother, 
and myself, and traps of no light weight. Her bows 
are soon turned landward, and as she glides along, all 
the features of the shore unfold, — the coco-palms of 
marked luxuriance, the thatched houses with shining 
white walls, the limestone cliff almost covered with con¬ 
volvulus and other foliage, the narrow beach, the canoes 
of various size and shape. We turn a point, and the town 
of Livingston is before us, and we are in the mouth of 
the Rio Dulce. 
On the shore the only prominent building is the cus¬ 
tom-house, built before Livingston was declared a free 
port; and in front of this is a low, dilapidated wharf, at 
which our tender landed us, the water being not more 
than fifteen inches deep. The tides here are less than a 
foot, so that shoal-w r ater keeps boats of any size at a dis¬ 
tance, making landing difficult. It was comforting to 
know that a charter for a wharf had been obtained, and 
that our successors may land with greater ease. 
We did not find the heat greater than on the steamer 
in the offing, and even the necessary bustle and trouble 
in getting luggage transferred to the backs of men did 
not cause discomfort. The custom-house and a few 
offices occupy the front of an amphitheatre with very 
steep sides, above which is the town. Springs burst 
from the gravel and furnish pools for the washerwomen, 
