CHAPTER IX.

AS A WINTER RESORT.

NICARAGUA! Land of the Great Waterway, the gateway between the oceans! Land of sunny skies and sparkling lakes; of beautiful scenery; of mountains blue and verdant vales; of magnificent forests and flowery fields; of fruitful soil and innumerable fruits; of healthful and delightful climate!

Land of unusual attractions for the winter tourist. The salubrity of the climate, were there nothing else to commend the country, must, when it becomes easily accessible by the completion of the canal, make it a favorite winter resort for wealthy residents of the United States and also of Europe. Throat and pulmonary affections are almost unknown; indeed, I do not remember having heard a cough in the country, even in the moist atmosphere of the Atlantic coast. The dry atmosphere of the

Pacific slope, or of the elevated tablelands of the Chontales and Matagalpa districts, cannot fail to greatly benefit persons who suffer from bronchial and pulmonary troubles. Although a great sufferer from bronchitis for years and laboring under a bad attack of it when I left New York, I was entirely free from even a suggestion of the disease during my sojourn on the Pacific slope. Fevers, which in the United States are supposed to be the curse of that country, are extremely rare, and it would be hard to find another land in which so little disease of any kind prevails. But the reader who has followed me thus far has already had some statistical evidence on this subject.

The attractions are not, however, for the invalid alone. Any one who enjoys grand and beautiful scenery would be delighted with the country. The primeval tropical forest, with its gigantic trees, its exuberant vegetation, exquisite forms and glowing colors, is a living wonder. Its majestic mountains and smouldering volcanoes, with their canopies of smoke, lift one's thoughts to the plane of sublimity. The simple, polite and fun-loving people, their

strange and interesting mode of life, the queer and picturesque

Spanish American towns

Indian villages, will furnish no end of entertainment and amusement to the pleasure-seeker. The antiquarian will find a rich field for investigation in the Toltec and Aztec remains, the forgotten places of worship, the overturned and half-buried statues, overgrown sepulchers, and strangely carved rocks. The student of natural history will find an inexhaustible store of wealth in the wonderful flora and fauna of the country. To the sportsman it is a veritable "happy hunting ground" below, stocked with an astonishing variety of game both in forest and stream, while to the yachtsman it offers one of the most changeful and charming winter cruises to be had anywhere in the world.

Being a bit of a yachtsman myself, I have mapped out this cruise, and mean to take it when the canal is opened. Leaving New York

in a comfortable steam or

sailing yacht, early

in December, we would touch at Bermuda. Thence steering for the Bahamas, and taking perhaps a passing look at the Hole in the Wall, or a more lingering one if the weather be dirty;

running close enough to San Salvador to recall the landing of Columbus, we would head for Cape Maysi; possibly drop anchor for an hour or so at Baracoa, to see how the city on the mountain side has improved under American influences. Next we would take a somewhat leisurely look at our newly acquired possession, Porto Rico. Having done that we would sail close enough to scan the bold headlands of Haiti and lay our course for that lovely isle of the sea, Jamaica, and stretch our legs for a day or two in quaint old Kingston, where the Yankee bartender mixes the rum-sour with divine skill. While lying at anchor here we will not forget to cast a line for the sportive king-fish, who is sure to tempt us by leaping out of water close aboard. The next run would take us to Greytown, giving of course a wide berth to Roncador, destroyer of the noble old Kearsarge and many another good ship. I have "touched" at Roncador and do not care to repeat the experiment. But by this time Uncle Sam will have built a lighthouse there for the protection of the unsuspecting mariner. Before we come to the latitude of Roncador, we will have caught

the northeast trade wind; this, if our vessel be a sailer, will bowl us merrily under shortened sail to Greytown, where we will tarry long enough to pay our respects to the "governor," assure him that we have nothing dutiable aboard, and perhaps accompany him to a Sunday cock-fight.

We shall begin our trip through the canal by daylight so as to see the grand avenue through the forest, the foothills of the Cordilleras at its head; catch glimpses of glowing orchids against the walls of green on either hand, the snowy, saffron and purple domes of great flowering trees in the distance, and marvel at the wonderful luxuriance and infinite variety of vegetable life. But while our thoughts are lost in contemplation of the affluence of nature, they will be suddenly recalled to the masterful work of man. At a little more than nine miles from Greytown we will reach the entrance to the first lock, which will lift the great ships, on their passage from the east to the west, thirty feet above the level of the Atlantic. Less than a mile and a quarter further on, our yacht will be lifted thirty-one feet higher by Lock 2, and