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CHAPTER XX.

CENTRAL AMERICA-SAN JOSE TO GREYTOWN.

My purpose was to go right through Central America, from ocean to ocean, and to accomplish this it was necessary that I should now make my way down to the mouth of the San Juan river-to San Juan del Norte as it was formerly called, or Greytown, as it is now named by the English. This road, I was informed by all of whom I inquired, was very bad,-so bad as to be all but impracticable to English travelers.

And then, just at that moment, an event occurred which added greatly to the ill name of this route. A few days before I reached San José, a gentleman resident there had started for England with his wife, and they had decided upon going by the San Juan. It seems that the lady had reached San José, as all people do reach it, by Panamá and Punta-arenas, and had suffered on the route. At any rate, she had taken a dislike to it, and had resolved on returning by the San Juan and the Serapiqui rivers, a route which is called the Serapiqui road.

To do this it is necessary for the traveler to ride on mules for four, five, or six days, according to his or her capability. The Serapiqui river is then reached, and from that point the further journey is made in canoes down the Serapiqui river till it falls into the San Juan, and then down that river to Greytown.

This gentleman with his wife reached the Serapiqui in safety; though it seems that she suffered greatly on the road. But when once there, as she herself said, all her

troubles were over. That weary work of supporting herself on her mule, through mud and thorns and thick bushes, of scrambling over precipices and through rivers, was done. She had been very despondent, even from before the time of her starting; but now, she said, she believed that she should live to see her mother again. She was seated in the narrow canoe, among cloaks and cushions, with her husband close to her, and the boat was pushed into the stream. Almost in a moment, within two minutes of starting, not a hundred yards from the place where she had last trod, the canoe struck against a snag or upturned fragment of a tree and was overset. The lady was borne by the stream among the entangled branches of timber which clogged the river, and when her body was found life had been long extinct.

This had happened on the very day that I reached San José, and the news arrived two or three days afterwards. The wretched husband, too, made his way back to the town, finding himself unable to go on upon his journey alone, with such a burden on his back. What could he have said to his young wife's mother when she came to meet him at Southampton, expecting to throw her arms round her daughter?

I was again lucky in having a companion for my journey. A young lieutenant of the navy, Fitzm- - by name, whose vessel was lying at Greytown, had made his way up to San José on a visit to the Ouseleys, and was to return at the same time that I went down. He had indeed traveled up with the bereaved man who had lost his wife, having read the funeral service over the poor woman's grave on the lonely shores of the Serapiqui. The road he acknowledged was bad, too bad he thought for any female; but not more than sufficiently so to make proper excitement for a man. He, at any rate, had come over it

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safely; but then he was twenty-four, and I forty-four; and so we started together from San José, a crowd of friends accompanying us for the first mile or two. There was that Secretary of Legation prophesying that we should be smothered in the mud; there was the Consul and the Consul's brother; nor was female beauty wanting to wish us well on our road, and maybe to fling an old shoe after us for luck as we went upon our journey.

We took four mules, that was one each for ourselves, and two for our baggage; we had two guides or muleteers, according to bargain, both of whom traveled on foot. The understanding was, that one mule lightly laden with provisions and a pair of slippers and tooth-brush should accompany us, one man also going with us; but that the heavy-laden mule should come along after us at its own pace. Things, however, did not so turn out on the first day both the men and both the mules lagged behind, and on one occasion we were obliged to wait above an hour for them; but after that we all kept in a string together, having picked up a third muleteer somewhere on the road. We had also with us a distressed British subject, who was intrusted to my tender mercies by the Consul at San José. He was not a good sample of a Britisher; he had been a gold-finder in California, then a filibuster, after that a teacher of the piano in the country part of Costa Rica, and lastly an omnibus driver. He was to act as interpreter for us, which, however, he did not do with. much honesty or zeal.

Our road at first lay through the towns of Aredia and Barba, the former of which is a pleasant-looking little village, where, however, we found great difficulty in getting anything to drink. Up to this, and for a few leagues further, the road was very fair, and the land on each side of us was cultivated. We had started at eight

A.M.; and at about three in the afternoon there seemed to be great doubt as to where we should stop. The leading muleteer wished to take us to the house of a friend of his own, whereas the lieutenant and I resolved that the day's work had not been long enough. I take it that on the whole we were right, and the man gave in with sufficient good humor; but it ended in our passing the night in a miserable rancho. That at the potrero, on the road to the volcanic mountain, had been a palace to it.

And here we got into the forest; we had hitherto been ascending the whole way from San José, and had by degrees lost all appearance of tillage. Still, however, there had been open spaces here and there cleared for cattle, and we had not as yet found ourselves absolutely enveloped by woods. This rancho was called Buena-vista; and certainly the view from it was very pretty. It was pretty and extensive, as I have seen views in Baden and parts of Bavaria; but again there was nothing about which I could rave.

I shall not readily forget the night in that rancho. We were I presume between seven and eight thousand feet above the sea-level; and at night, or rather early in the morning, the cold was very severe. Fitzmand I shared the same bed; that is, we lay on the same boards, and did what we could to cover ourselves with the same blankets. In that country men commonly ride upon blankets, having them strapped over the saddles as pillions, and we had come so provided; but before the morning was over I heartily wished for a double allowance.

We had brought with us a wallet of provisions, certainly not too well arranged by Sir William Ouseley's most reprehensible butler. Travelers should never trust

to butlers. Our pièce de résistance was a ham, and lo! it turned out to be a bad one. When the truth of this

fact first dawned upon us it was in both our minds to go back and slay that butler: but there was still a piece of beef and some chickens, and there had been a few dozen of hard-boiled eggs. But Fitzm―― would amuse himself with eating these all along the road: I always found when the ordinary feeding time came, that they had not had the slightest effect upon his appetite.

On the next morning we again ascended for about a couple of leagues, and as long as we did so the road was still good; the surface was hard, and the track was broad, and a horseman could wish nothing better. And then we reached the summit of the ridge over which we were passing; this we did at a place called Desenganos, and from thence we looked down into vast valleys all running towards the Atlantic. Hitherto the shed of water had

been into the Pacific.

At this place we found a vast shed, with numberless bins and troughs lying under it in great confusion. The facts, as far as I could learn, were thus: Up to this point the government, that is Don Juan Mora, or perhaps his predecessor, had succeeded in making a road fit for the transit of mule carts. This shed had also been built to afford shelter for the postmen and accommodation for the muleteers. But here Don Juan's efforts had been stopped; money probably had failed; and the great remainder of the undertaking will, I fear, be left undone for many a long year.

And yet this, or some other road from the valley of San José to the Atlantic, would be the natural outlet of the country. At present the coffee grown in the central high lands is carried down to Punta-arenas on the Pacific, although it must cross the Atlantic to reach its market;

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