until April, is the healthiest, and the first, part
of it, the pleasantest. In December and January
the intense heat has not set in. Only in the
morning, until the norther, as it is called, begins,
is the warmth oppressive. By five P.M. it is
becoming cool, and through the night the fine
fresh north wind is delightfully refreshing. I
have always found March and April most trying;
then is the heat felt sensibly, and the effects are
very debilitating.

The rainy season is, up to a certain time,
merely showery, uncertain weather, and summer
lightning, vivid enough, may be seen every
night. Later there are terrific storms, sharp,
short, and angry. Such crashes of thunder that
the old, crazy town seems falling in one mighty
smash, succeeded by tropical rain in vast sheets,
as if heaven opened to pour forth its seas upon
the earth.

A curious incident occurred on the 4th of July,
the first anniversary of the American independence
after the civil war commenced. The American
consul was entertaining his friends, stars
and stripes flying, when a great storm coming on,
a tremendous flash of lightning struck the flagstaff
down, rending the Union flag in pieces. I
think the Yankees were a little startled. Now
and then we are excited by a revolt. Much
panic, a rush of the natives away to the
mountains or Taboga, some firing in the streets,
applications from the local authorities to the
foreign navy to fight battles they cannot fight for
themselves, some discussion, followed by panic
on both sides, attacked and attackers, then peace.
Such is a grand revolution in Panama.

Robberies are rare enough, and when they do
occur are seldom brought home to the natives.
However, the police are scarcely ever able to
trace out robbers, and I only wonder, so
encouraged, they are not commoner.

In Panama women thrive not. The children
are large and forward, though very pale, an
effect of the heat; but the women, ladies and
peasants, are miserably lean and sallow, seldom,
especially foreigners, keeping their health.

The small temptation to walk prevents their
taking active exercise; the heat (no winter
bracing them up) debilitates; they languish,
lose strength, appetite, colour, grow old
prematurely, yet rarely die suddenly or before their
time. Intermittent fever and ague is common,
and once the constitution receives that taint,
nothing but change of climate eradicates it.
Frequently after sufficient change they are
enabled to return and enjoy as good health as a
tropical climate can bring to those accustomed
to a temperate one. Falling after a time into a
somewhat languid condition myself, we decided
on taking a little trip to the delightful island of
Taboga, for change of air and scene.

From the bay the scene is certainly very
enchanting, so much so that I would recommend
all travellers who are favoured by the
view to stay, and not run the risk of disenchantment.
The island is divided into two parts; one
is called the Morro, on which is an English
factory, the ground being in English possession,
and separated from the mainland in high tides,
when the sea covers a little neck of sand running
between. There arc pretty little cottages, clean
and white, but built of wood, and cruelly hot.
The island is very mountainous, the village very
picturesque at a distance; but, alas! on landing
and proceeding to our queer little abode,
much in the style of a French lodging-house in
some very out-of-the-way Norman village, great
was our disenchantment. Hard flinty stones
cutting straight through your boots, more dirt,
à la Panama, many more pigs, lean dogs, and
goats. The latter, together with enormous
crabs, used to walk into our sitting-room and
promenade at their ease; the hungry dogs
would prowl about, terribly tame, sniffing after
any food they could pick up; the cats, too, so
gaunt, and lean, and hungry, poor beasts, for it
is not a land of milk and honey, and neither
human nor dumb animals fatten on good things.

There was a fine bath to be got after a hard
clamber up the side of the mountain. More
beautiful scenery, exquisite foliage, great
magnificent trees, and a stream running along rocks
and stones. Alas! though, I soon lost strength
to rise from my bed at five, make the ascent of
the mountain, and return, in spite of my cool
plunge, heated and wearied, the sun having
sufficient power to scorch not a little. On the
whole, we had to confess that our expedition
was a failure, the pure air of Taboga having so
far changed my health as to produce incessant
sick-headaches, for the heat is certainly worse
than that of Panama; thermometer ranging from
86 to 89 all the time, and the wooden houses
being little calculated for the climate.

One good effect came of our expedition.
Comparing Taboga and Panama together, one
feels that the latter is a civilised place. At
least one has green shutters, a stone house to
live in, such comforts as we had gathered round
us, and ice—for ice, thanks to an enterprising
Yankee storekeeper, is abundant, and a real
necessity of life.

Panama is, to the world in general, a part
only of the road leading to better, more genial
places. It is best so. Few can lead a happy
or a profitable life there.

         SMALL-BEER CHRONICLES.

WHAT a terrible spectacle "a room full of
people" presents to a contemplative mind. "A
room full of people." As you make ready for
it, in your dressing-chamber, you seem with
every added garment to cover up your mind,
just as you cover up your body. At last all is
hidden except the face, and that is the only part
of your frame which you can hide quite well
without a cover. There is no need for a
face-cloth, or a mask; your eyes can be
controlled to see the right people, and to pass the
wrong people, and the mouth will smile on
Prospero, while for Unprospero it will be stern
and set. There is a sensation comes over a man
as he puts on his evening dress, about which no