Panama generally, because it was the subject of our illustration. Panama, however, is but one of the six States that go to form the province of New Grenada. The Isthmus is traversed by a range of mountains, the highest peak of which is 7200 feet, connecting with the chain of Bando, and forms the barrier between the two oceans. No fewer than 149 streams flow into the Atlantic from those ridges, and 326 into the Pacific. The coasts of Panama are fringed with beautiful islands. Gold is one of the products of the Isthmus, and there is evidence that formerly the yield was much more than at present. The Isthmus once bore the name Castilla del Oro in recognition of the gold existing there. In 1535, the conquest of Peru and the fame of the opulent empire of the Incas attracted thither vast numbers of Spaniards by way of the Isthmus, and it has been calculated that between thirty thousand and forty thousand perished in the transit.

Until quite recently, within twenty years, but little has been definitely known regarding the Isthmus, owing to the jealousy of the Indians, who had an instinctive and justly founded fear of the white man, and threw all obstacles in the way of his explorations. The Atlantic coast of the Isthmus was discovered by Columbus in 1503, but it was not crossed until crossed by Balboa in 1513. By some it is supposed that Charles Wesley passed over the Isthmus at the time of his southern sojourn in this country, and that his celebrated hymn, beginning as we quote from memory,

""Twixt two unbounded seas I stand,
A continent on either hand,"

was based upon his experience on first viewing the scene from the hill whence Balboa regarded it.

In 1698, a Scotch settlement, projected by Paterson, the founder of the Bank of England, was formed near the Gulf of Darien, on that part of the coast where the names of Caledonia Bay and Port Escoces still mark its locality. Great hopes were entertained of it by the nation; but owing partly to the hostility of the Spaniards, and partly to the jealousy of, the West India proprietors, seconded by the English Parliament, it proved a failure, and brought ruin on many families. This Port Escoces, on the Atlantic, is now thought of as the commencement of the Darien ship canal. The harbor is excellent, and Caledonia Bay has a magnificent roadstead for the accommodation of vessels. The canal will cross to the Isthmus at this point and connect with the

port of San Miguel, on the Pacific side, the distance being less and the facilities better. The dimensions suggested are 140 feet wide at bottom and 30 feet of water at low tide, which would be capable of admitting the passage of the largest vessel afloat. The summit level, only 150 feet, consists of a narrow ridge of hills, gradually sloping down into a hill on either side, and the materials to be cut through, though hard, are peculiarly favorable to the security of the banks. One advantage offered by this route is that the river Sablana at San Miguel can be utilized, and thus render it necessary to excavate but about twenty-seven miles.

Of course the purposed canal will conflict with the existing railroad and perhaps diminish its receipts, and it may be that railroad influence is at work to prevent it, but the work is a matter of public necessity increasing with the extension of commerce, and will undoubtedly become a speedy fact. Humanity as well as business expediency calls for it, and the time will soon be, when there will be no necessity for carrying water from one side of the continent to mingle with those of the other, when the floods are united at the

Isthmus.

Mr. John L. Stephens, the American explorer of Central America, spent much time on the Isthmus, and traversed the entire route surveyed by Mr. Bailey-an English engineer employed by the government of Central America to lay out the Nicaragua route across the Isthmus-to its termination in Nicaragua Bay. He gave Mr. Stephens the following figures, the result of his labors:

The length from the Pacific to the Lake of Nicaragua is 28,365 2-3 yards, or 18 2-3 miles. Sum of the ascents.. ..1047 5.45 feet 919 2.04"

66

66 descents..

66

The difference in the height of the lake above the Pacific Ocean at low water.......... 128 3.05 The lake is ninety-five miles long, in its broadest part about thirty, and averages, according to Mr. Bailey's soundings, fifteen fathoms of water. The length of the river, by measurement, with all its windings, from the mouth of the lake to the sea, is seventy-nine miles. There are no cataracts or falls; all the obstructions are from rapids, and it is at all times navigable, both up and down, for piraguas drawing from three to four feet of water.

From the lake to the river of Los Savalos, about eighteen miles, the depth is from two to four fathoms. Here commence the rapids of

Toros, which extend one mile, with water from one and a half to two fathoms. The river is then clear for four miles, with an average depth of from two to four fathoms. Then come the rapids of the Old Castle, but little more than half a mile in extent, with water from two to four fathoms. The river is clear again for about two miles, with water from two and a half to five fathoms, where begin the rapids of Mico and Las Balas, connected and running into each other, and both together not more than a mile, with water from one to three fathoms. Then the river is clear one mile and a half to the rapids of Machuca, which extend a mile, and are the worst of all, the water being more broken, from running over a broken rocky bottom. The river then runs clear, and without any obstruction for ten miles, with water from two to seven fathoms, to the River San Carlos, and then eleven miles, with some islands interspersed, with water from one to six fathoms, to the river Serapequea, the measurements of one fathom being about the points or bends, where there is an accumulation of sand and mud. It then continues seven miles clear, with water from two to five fathoms, to the Rio Colorado. The river Colorado runs out of the San Juan in another direction into the Atlantic. loss to the latter, according to measurement taken in the month of May, 1839, was twentyeight thousand one hundred and seventy-eight cubic yards of water per minute, and in the month of July of the same year, during the rising of the waters, it was eighty-five thousand eight hundred and forty yards per minute, which immense body might be saved to the San Juan by damming up the mouth of the River Colorado. From this point there are thirteen miles, with soundings of from three to eight fathoms. The bottom is of sand and mud, and there are many small islands and aggregations of sand without trees, very easily cleared away. The last thirteen miles might be reduced to ten by restoring the river to its old channel, which has been filled up by collections, at points of drifted matter.

The

The whole length of the canal from the Lake of Nicaragua to the Pacific is fifteen and two thirds miles. According to the plan in the first eight miles from the lake but one lock is necessary. In the next mile sixty-four feet of lockage are required. In the next three miles there are about two of deep cutting and one of tunnel, and then a descent of two hundred feet in three miles by lockage, to the Pacific.

Thus far of the canal across the Isthmus.

The Lake of Nicaragua is navigable for ships of the largest class down to the mouth of the River San Juan. This river has an average fall of one and six sevenths feet per mile to the Atlantic. If the bed of the river cannot be cleared out, a communication can be made either by lock and dam, or by a canal along the bank of the river. The latter would be more expensive, but on account of the heavy floods of the rainy season, it is preferable.

I am authorized to state that the physical obstructions of the country present no impediment to the accomplishment of this work. A canal large enough for the passage of boats of the usual size could be made at a trifling expense. A tunnel of the length required is not considered a great work in the United States. According to the plan of the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal, a tunnel is contemplated upward of four miles in length. The sole difficulty is the same which would exist in any route in any other region of country, viz., the great dimensions of the excavation required for a ship canal.

The idea of a communication between the Atlantic and Pacific is not new. Columbus wore out the last days of his checkered life in searching for a natural passage, and the vastness and sublimity of the enterprise suited the daring imagination of the early Spaniards.

From the formation of the continent and the falling off in height of the range of the Andes, it has ever since engaged the attention of reflecting men. Even during the deathlike sleep of Spanish dominion a survey was made under the direction of the captain-general; but the documents remained buried in the archives of Guatimala until the emancipation of the colonies, when they were procured and published by Mr. Thomson, who visited that country under a commission from the British government. By this survey the work appears much more easy than by Mr. Bailey's, but it purports to have been taken by the water level. Mr. Bailey knew of its existence, and had been the means of procuring it for Mr. Thomson.

On broad grounds, this work has been well characterized as "the mightiest event in favor of the peaceful intercourse of nations which the physical circumstances of the globe present to the enterprise of man." It will compose the distracted country of Central America; turn the sword, which is now drenching it with blood, into a pruning-hook; remove the prejudices of the inhabitants by bringing them into close connection with people of

every nation; furnish them with a motive and a reward for industry, and inspire them with a taste for making money, which after all, opprobrious as it is sometimes considered, does more to civilize and keep the world at peace than any other influence whatever. A great city will grow up in the heart of the country, with streams issuing from it, fertilizing as they roll into the interior; her magnifi

cent mountains, and valleys now weeping in desolation and waste, will smile and be glad. The commerce of the world will be changed, the barren region of Terra del Fuego be forgotten, Patagonia become a land of fable, and Cape Horn will live only in the recollection of sailors and insurers. The intercourse and communion of numerous bodies of the human race will assimilate and improve their character.

THE SYMBOL OF THE

Mr. Ettex, a Parisian sculptor, at the formation of the French republic in 1851, wrought the statue, which forms the subject of our illustration, to emblemise the new condition of things. It was a very charming work, and the republic was not so stable as its marble effigy, melting away as it did before the star of the Third Napoleon. It is appropriate to recall it at the present time, when a new republic springs into life from the ruins of the Napoleonic dynasty, with all the ambition, hope and faith that at the first seemed to animate the old republic, but which grew weak from dissension and ended with an empire. Such may be the fate of the présent. Who can tell?

This statue was regarded with enthusiasm by lovers of art, and the artist greatly praised by all who saw it in its niche in the Louvre where it was placed. It represents a female, in the full flush and vigor of youth, holding in her right hand a crown of laurel, the arm resting over the shoulder of a statue of Peace, signifying the encouragement of sculpture and the support of pacific arts. The skin of a Gaulish wolf, the paws hanging over the left shoulder, the head behind, is prominent, while the right hand grasps a horn of plenty, from which is pouring untold wealth, denoting prosperity. Upon her lap is a sheathed sword, the hilt convenient, as if ready for instant use when occasion offers. About her brow is a triumphal crown, and rising over her right shoulder is the olive branch. A beautiful representation of what should have been permanent, but which enjoyed but a brief existence.

The French are a fickle people. They received Napoleon, the Boulogne adventurer, with open arms, made him the president of their republic, and when, detected in their machinations against him, he met them with the coup d'etat, they made him emperor, for

FRENCH REPUBLIC.

getting the republic they had just flung up their greasy caps for. But the twenty years' rule of Napoleon, maugre the way it began, was more glorious and more prosperous for France than any reign that had preceded it, not even excepting the most renowned of the kings. Under this rule, the laws were equalized, and the poor man's rights were as much respected as those of the rich; the arts and sciences flourished; literature increased; order reigned. Napoleon said "The Empire is Peace," and it was peace. He was a monarch feared and respected as no other had ever been before him. He held the destinies of Europe in his hand, and kings and ministers watched and waited the movement of "the Sphynx," as they called him, before they dared to move. There was one grand mistake he made, however, in trying to establish an empire on Mexican soil, but it was a mistake repented of and suffered for.

This we know is not the popular view of the deposed monarch, but, it is, nevertheless, true. It was a fact that he suspended a licentious press in Paris, that, with its Red Republican sympathies, was sapping the foundations of his government, and of all order. He was not suppressing intelligence, nor putting a bar on knowledge, but was acting upon the desire to preserve the public peace. Perhaps he was wrong in his mode, but he was dealing with Frenchmen, he knew their instability, and with this knowledge may he not have been right? We talk of the "liberty of the press "-there it was license.

Let us hope that the republic, now inaugurated, may prove more permanent than that of '50. It is undergoing a fearful trial, and if it comes through in triumph there may happen a peaceful reign for it, though with its many factions it may fall through division of counsels and the empire succeed again.

A

CHAPTER I.

MARCH storm of sleet and wind that had been growing all day, set in furiously with the night, and, more effectually than any police, cleared the streets of all loungers, for no one went abroad unless necessity called him. Among those who were abroad was a young man who arrived in a delayed train from the West, and who hurriedly walked through the storm with the manner of one who is impelled by something more than haste to reach shelter. At a corner where the worrying blast was less felt than in other places, he stopped under a street-lamp and took a letter from his pocket. It was addressed to Louis Hamilton, and had already been opened. As he stood, the light shone full on his face. It was a handsome face, with a striking levity and audacity in the expression, that gave warrant for supposing him to be one who would get into ceaseless difficulties by those qualities and extricate himself in the same way. It was almost impossible not to like him from the first sight, and almost equally impossible not to blame him on longer acquaintance, without liking him any less. As he consulted the letter a deep shadow of anxiety and perplexity was on his countenance.

"Savary street," he muttered to himself. "Yes, it is Savary street. How came they to be in such a place ?"

As he folded up the letter, another passenger came up the cross street, passed, stopped and turned back.

"Halloo, captain, you back ?" he said.

Louis looked up. The young man who confronted him was, if there was any difference, younger than himself, and had a puzzling mixture of roughness, and a species of refinement in his voice, dress and manner: The refinement might arise partly, but did not wholly, from the fine physical development, which excludes much awkwardness. Louis Hamilton had no great difficulty in classing him, from his experience, though he did not recognize the individual, for he answered in

the debonair and slightly supercilious manner one would expect from him.

"You have the advantage of me, my friend."

"Well, I suppose I have filled out a little since you saw me last. I'm Bill Moore."

"As an introduction that information is highly acceptable, Mr. Moore; it doesn't happen to be the name of any one I already know."

"Come!" said Billy Moore, with energy. "Don't try that on me! I know you are firstrate at acting, and making people give the lie to their own eyes; but I've been by too often when I was in the secret, to be taken in myself. I'm glad you have come back, for Jinny is beginning to take on about it."

"I'm sorry that Jinny should take on," said Louis, with a slight laugh, "but glad that I am guiltless of the deep damnation of her taking on."

Saying this he turned away. Bill Moore followed him. Louis took no notice of this for some time. At last he faced round, and demanded angrily:

"Are you dogging me?" "I just am," said Bill.

"You had better not."

"I'll do as I please," said Bill, with a verbal sauce piquante. "You aint going to give me the slip again."

Louis uttered an impatient and yet amused exclamation. Bill stood with folded arms and a steady threatening look, that said a collision was imminent if he were defied. Louis preferred to temporize.

"Don't you follow me now," he said. "I will come back and have it out with you if you insist on thinking you know me." Bill considered.

"On your word?" he said.

"On my word; on my honor," said Louis. "I have no reason to keep out of your way."

"If you're the man I take you for, you'll keep your word.”

"Whether I'm the man you take me for or