thermometer never reaches the high figures sufficiently common in latitude 30° to 35°, when, from the greater length of the day, the sun has more time to heat the ground intensely, and so gives rise to a much greater annual and diurnal range of temperature. Indeed, the hot season, 1,500 miles north of Costa Rica, is not only distinguished by a daily maximum perhaps 20° higher, but is itself 10° F. or 15° F. hotter. The character of the weather at a moderate elevation above sea-level in latitude 10° is, therefore, that of a very hot moist day in England, with a brilliancy of sunlight and a transparency of atmosphere never known here. Vegetation is peculiarly benefited by such conditions, and the heavy rainfall keeps everything moist. In parts of tropical India, where the highest readings are not in excess of those of Rome, though the mean annual temperature is 20° higher, seeds planted on a Tuesday have been well up by the following Friday, and in a week the ground is covered with a crop several inches high, and it is said that growth is so rapid that it can actually be measured day by day. Probably Texas and the Southern States of the American Union are in the seven months' summer of that region far more trying to the English constitution than any part of Costa Rica except the sea coast. The agricultural returns are far greater in the latter, and the variety of the productions enormously larger. With our constantly increasing population, and the rapid growth of wealth and luxury at home, and in Europe generally, there is no limit to the consumption of those intertropical fruits and vegetables, which the Central American republics could produce in quantities almost exceeding the powers of arithmetic to express.

Costa Rica is peculiarly rich in forest trees of great magnificence, and the climate would seem to favour their growth and variety. What tropical forests are, Charles Kingsley, in a passage of more than ordinary brilliancy, has shown in terms which might almost seem highly coloured. The teeming vegetable wealth of a small West India island filled him with amazement. We, in a cold temperate climate, in which the degree of heat is always moderate, and vegetation is dormant for six months, cannot even picture to ourselves the splendour and rapidity of tropical growth. Mr. Alfred Wallace has very happily described the main features of those forests whose luxuriant solitudes are tempting the hand of man.

It is not easy to fix upon the most distinctive features of these virgin forests, which, nevertheless, impress themselves upon the beholder as something quite unlike those of temperate lands, and as possessing a grandeur and sublimity altogether their own. Amid the countless modifications in detail which these forests present, we shall endeavour to point out the chief peculiarities, as well as the more interesting phenomena which generally characterise them. The observer,

new to the scene, would perhaps be first struck by the varied yet symmetrical trunks, which rise up with perfect straightness to a great height without a branch, and which being placed at a considerable average distance apart, give an impression similar to that produced by the columns of some enormous building. Overhead, at a height perhaps of a hundred feet, is an almost unbroken canopy of foliage formed by the meeting together of these great trees and their interlacing branches; and this canopy is usually so dense that only an indistinct glimmer of the sky is to be seen, and even the intense tropical sunlight only penetrates to the ground subdued and broken up into scattered fragments. There is a weird gloom and a solemn silence which combine to produce a sense of the vast, the primeval, almost of the infinite. It is a world in which man seems an intruder, and where he seems overwhelmed by the contemplation of the ever-acting forces, which from the simplest elements of the atmosphere build up the great mass of vegetation which overshadows and almost seems to oppress the earth.

Central America originally comprised a single great State, known, while in the possession of the Spanish Crown, as the Kingdom of Guatemala, but now divided into five independent republics-Guatemala, Salvador, Honduras, Nicaragua-which, since the treaty of January 28, 1860, includes the Mosquito territory, and Costa Rica. This vast region, so insignificant on the map, has an area of at least 175,000 square miles, with population of 3,000,000, of whom a quarter are Europeans, or Creoles of European parentage, while the remainder are Indians and Mestizoes. Central America was conquered, or seized more correctly, in 1525, by Don Pedro de Alvarado, one of the trustiest and most determined of the fierce and cruel followers of the Conqueror of Mexico. His adventures read like legends of romance. From his day to 1821 it was subject to Spain, then it obtained its independence, and a federal government was formed; but this, after some years of civil war, was, in 1839, overthrown, when the five confederated States proclaimed themselves absolutely independent of one another. The mineral wealth of the region is enormous, and its importance has not yet been fully recognised-gold, silver, copper, zinc, marble, and stone abound; but perhaps in that luxuriant region the chief wealth is, after all, agricultural-wood, cotton, coffee, sugar, cochineal, indigo, cocoa, sarsaparilla, tobacco, fibre, and the banana. A large trade is done with the United Kingdom, the imports and exports in 1887 approaching £3,000,000.

Though Costa Rica looks strangely small, it extends from 8° N. latitude to 11°, and from 8° 30' to 85° 45′ W. longitude, with, according to one account, an area of 20,000, while another gives it 26,000 square miles-so little trouble do we take to get at the real facts relating to a country nearly as large as Ireland, and with agricultural capabilities immensely greater than those of the whole United King

dom. The country is mountainous in an American, not an English sense, more particularly in the north-east, with many volcanoes and a reasonable share of earthquakes. The chief places of note are San José the capital, Puntarenas on the Gulf of Nicoya, Cartago, Alajuela, Eredia, Estrella, and Esparsa. The notorious filibuster William Walker gave Costa Rica much trouble some years ago, and it has had abundance of internal difficulties, though of late it has been creditably free from political and civil complications. Among the chief exports are coffee and hides; of the former the amount is enormous, and represents an immense sum. One of the most remarkable mines of this wonderful region is the famous La Trinidad, which belongs to the Costa Rican Mining Company; it possesses a battery of forty stampers, each of 900 pounds. This mine is richer than most others in the country, but it is not the only one which yields enormous returns, and friends of mine, who know the capabilities of Costa Rica as I cannot pretend to do, have favoured me with lists of mines which are very remarkable, and which are likely to divide large profits, but I spare my readers the trouble of reading names which, after all, would only be names to most of them. A railway from Limon, on the Atlantic, to San José, the capital, 118 miles long, is in hand, and will, it is hoped, be completed in January 1890; there are also fifty-two miles of rail completed in other parts. But it is obvious that there is great scope for additional railways, and I gather from what I am told that important concessions have been obtained, and that very valuable extensions are in hand, which will immensely improve the means of communication and greatly increase the commerce of the country; the want of railways is the greatest hindrance to progress. The standing army is small but sufficient; it numbers 500 men, and the militia 15,000. The public income is three quarters of a million, and the expenditure much the same; while the debt is £1,120,000, and the imports and exports reach £1,900,000. San José has a population of 13,000; it is 5,687 miles from London, and direct transit takes twentythree days, while via New York only twenty-one are needed.

The extreme loveliness of Central America is getting to be well known by this time and needs no description of mine, while the scenery of Costa Rica has delighted all who have seen the upland regions of that glorious country. From its geographical position, moreover, the climate of that vast district is one of the most charming under the sun, and the brilliant and equable climate of the elevated valley of Cartago, in Costa Rica, where report says the temperature ranges. 'from 70° to 80° night and day, all the year round, is attracting attention

in Europe and the States. Of late large numbers of North Americans and Englishmen have been going out, and my youngest brother has been using his influence, which can hardly be small, to induce friends to accompany him. A letter written to me by my youngest sister, who, with her mother, travelled from Richmond, Virginia, viâ New Orleans, to Costa Rica, in October 1887, will interest the reader, as it conveys in very picturesque words the impression she formed; it reached me in the midst of typical English winter weather, when it required a positive effort to think of sunshine and blue skies. After a short stay at New Orleans my relatives went by steamer to Limon, the principal port of Costa Rica on the Atlantic. But I must let my fair kinswoman speak for herself.

If you do not mind a little mal de mer, take passage by the Foxhall, and set your face towards the tropics. The steamer is small, but nicely fitted up; it is English, and owned by Messrs. J. L. Phipps & Co. of London, and is used in the banana trade, which is one of the staple businesses of the country. The captain is a Cape Cod man, a genial Yankee, if such a thing be possible; the chief engineer is an Englishman, and the waiters, who are all negroes, are very attentive and skilful. When we crossed there were only about a dozen passengers besides ourselves; we gathered together on the bridge of the steamer, and soon became very friendly. I had a horrible dread of being sea-sick, but sitting upon the bridge, with the river as smooth as glass, and the sky clear and beautiful, I forgot everything but the enjoyment of the moment. At ten o'clock we went down to breakfast, a delicious meal with every imaginable delicacy; but alas and alas! the waiter offered me one dish after another with so insinuating a smile that I felt something lay behind. The captain observed that I ate very little, and advised me to make a good meal, as it might very possibly be the first and the last on the voyage. You can imagine how appetising I found the remark. After breakfast we returned to our old place on the bridge of the steamer, and began to talk about the land beyond the sea to which we were bound. A lady who lived at Colon said that in stormy weather she had seen the Foxhall come into port there "standing on her hind-legs and pawing the air with her fore-legs." Another lady, returning home to Port Limon, did her best to frighten us, by giving horrible accounts of the yellow fever on the coast; I could not blame her, poor soul, after learning that she had lost two children within six hours of each other, only four months before. The dinner hour was four o'clock, and we were to pass the jetties at 4.30. At 4 o'clock we were really enjoying our dinner, when the vessel gave a lurch, nearly every one turned pale, and several rose precipitately to seek the seclusion of their state rooms. We were out of the river; our pleasant time was over until we stood once more on dry land. Mamma and I felt perfectly well, so we went up with the captain on the bridge, and talked very cheerfully as though we had nothing to fear in the way of that detestable malady, sea-sickness. At dusk we descended to our state rooms; alas for our pride! I hung desperately to the captain's arm, and even then only succeeded in staggering down the cabin stairs. I managed to put on a wrapper and stretch myself at full length on the sofa; mamma took to her bed with many a groan. It was Friday night when we turned our faces to the wall and refused to be comforted; it was Sunday noon before we again looked upon the light of day. The captain

sent to inquire if I did not want to see Cuba-la joya mas brillante en la corona de Espana. Of course I said " Yes," and greatly to my own astonishment I managed to reach the saloon, and from the doorway looked upon the low grey line which they told me was Cuba. I can assure you that our five days at sea were anything but pleasant. When on the Wednesday morning the captain informed us that the land in front of the ship was Limon, I could have shouted for joy. By noon we were in port, where Robert met us. We had quite a pleasant little stay at Limon. The Governor of the Port took us in his steam-launch to La Isla de Uvas, where a sanitary settlement is being made, and gave us glasses of fresh cocoa-nut champagne to drink. It was nice to be seated under a cocoa palm, to have nuts fresh from the trees around us, but I did not like the taste of the juice; it was so intensely sweet. Limon is the most important port of Costa Rica on the Atlantic, and is not remarkable for architectural beauty, but to me it seemed the loveliest place on earth; at least, after my experience at sea. By the way, the best hotel in the place is kept by two Englishwomen who had been living at Limon more than fifteen years. We left Limon on Friday morning for San José, and reached that city Sunday night. From Limon to Carrillo the journey is made by rail; and I saw enough banana plantations to satisfy me for the rest of my life. We reached Carillo, the present terminus of the road, on the Friday evening in the midst of a typical tropical rainstorm. We spent the night there, leaving on Saturday morning for San José. Robert was on horseback, mamma and I in a coach with two Colombian ladies. Our chariot was drawn by oxen, and for some reason or other they soon became weary, thereby lengthening the journey by twenty-four hours. The scenery is something wonderful; I am engaged upon a series of letters for publication in which I hope to do it justice : when finished, I will send you copies; in the meantime I will ask you to picture to yourself a landscape made up of lofty mountains clothed with dense tropical verdure to their summits, sparkling cascades, turbulent rivers, a long winding road through narrow mountain gorges, a glorious sky, and a sun in keeping with the tropic scene. San José is like all Central American towns: the houses are none of them more than two storeys high, and even that is the exception. There is a magnificent cathedral, of which the people may well be proud. We were a week at San José, and then went on to Cartago; we are now at Agua Caliente, a suburb of the latter. We are living in the house of a friend, a wealthy coffee planter. As I sit writing on the wide balcony which serves as a room, I can see the men at work in the "patio," drying coffee. There is an orange grove just beyond, and we are liberally supplied with that delicious fruit. The climate appears to be very fine; we are nearly at the end of the rainy season-the winter of the tropics--and, when the weather permits, we are going to make visits to the volcano of Irazu, the valley of thé Orosi, and numerous other places of interest in the neighbourhood.

A certain place, not mentionable to ears polite, is said to be paved with good intentions; my sister's intentions are no doubt good, but sometimes they remain intentions only, and the long-promised and eagerly-expected letters have not come with the regularity I could wish. In a subsequent epistle, however, she did favour me with a long account of the banana and the cacao, and, as it throws light on two of the principal industries of Central America, I have ventured to give my readers a short passage.

VOL. CCXLVIII. NO. 1909.

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