FROM QUEZALTENANTGO TO THE PACIFIC. 167 
across the continent, as we had made it, was far pleas¬ 
anter than when, in 1869, I had used the railroad,— 
then hut a week old. We decided unanimously that the 
difference between the two oceans was not a matter of 
fancy merely. I had seen the middle Atlantic smooth 
as a mill-pond, and had been miserably seasick on the 
raging Pacific; so without going deeper into this ques¬ 
tion, our thoughts wandered from one thing to another, 
mine going back to the days when Istapa, the old port 
at our left hand, was more than a swamp, and when the 
Spanish shipyards there were humming with the busy 
workmen who had learned their craft on the Rio Tinto 
at Palos or on the sandy shores of Cadiz. Why had the 
place become so changed ? My eye wandered up and 
down the coast for an answer to a suggestion that came 
to me. But only a rather steep beach was there, — no 
cliff, not even a detached rock, to solve the problem of 
whether the coast was at the same level as in the seven¬ 
teenth century; for this was the way I was trying to 
answer my own question. A rise of eight feet would 
explain everything about that deserted harbor; but there 
was nothing except the steep slope of the beach to indi¬ 
cate any change of level. Had I been able to see any 
rocks within the limit of two miles, I should have left the 
cool pier and trudged through the hot black sand to ask 
them. Frank’s more practical mind was working in 
another direction; and he took up the conversation with 
a question whether a railroad to the Atlantic would 
change this port as well as the rest of the republic. 
Then we discussed the several schemes proposed for in¬ 
fusing a commercial spirit into this charmingly uncom¬ 
mercial country; and although we had not yet seen the 
