Chagres, on this side of the Isthmus of Darien, which is the most
unhealthy spot on this continent. Excuse this diversion, I must get back
to my subject, the days of the forty-niners.

I stopped at the American Hotel. I was somewhat in a dilapidated
condition from the experiences of my trip from Chagres. The waiter in my
room at the hotel took the best of care of me. I soon found he was no
ordinary waiter. He had resigned a position in Washington of $2,000 a
year to go to the gold Eldorado. He had been in Panama several months,
and had been taken down with the fever twice, which had exhausted his
funds and was working at the hotel for his board, but never thought of
turning back. He was bound for California. He was quite enfeebled from
the effects of the fever. He got hold of my sympathies and secured my
friendship. (More of him anon.) I had been here four or five days
without seeing our guide, the boy with my satchel, containing my
valuables, particularly the bills of lading of my houses. I was in a
quandary and anxiety about it, not knowing what to do, when one day as I
was going to dinner, something pulled my coat from behind, and looking
around, what should I see to my great joy and satisfaction but the
native boy with my satchel, contents there all safe. It was an instance
of honesty that would do honor to any nation. I gave some honest
Catholic priest credit for it. The boy had evidently been instructed
what to do.

The great objective point now was, how to get to San Francisco. There
was no hope for a sailing vessel from this place, for we saw one return
for water that had been chartered by a party that had been out three
weeks, and scarcely got out of sight of the city. There is very little
chance for a sailing vessel from there until they get west several
hundred miles, and strike the trade winds. The chances were better with
the sailing vessel to start from New York and go around Cape Horn. So
the only hope seemed to be the steamer with its sixty tickets and with
from one thousand to fifteen hundred passengers waiting to buy them, all
seeking to bring some influence to bear to secure one. I saw in the
office of the steamer agent a young man, the book-keeper, whom I took a
fancy to, and sought his acquaintance. I found he was from Hudson, N.Y.,
and I, from Albany, both from the banks of the Hudson river. It ripened
into a warm friendship. I explained my situation to him, and my desire,
if it was possible, to