bitation in question was the abode of _civilised_ humanity. We had
been travelling, almost uninterruptedly, along the ridge of a range of
hills, and on the afternoon in question had reached a spot where the
range took an abrupt turn to the southward, curving round in a sort of
arm which encircled a basin or valley of perhaps half a mile in width,
open to the river on the north side. The hill-side sloped gently down
to the valley bottom on the eastern, southern, and western sides, and
was much more thickly wooded than the country through which we had
hitherto been passing. In the very thickest part of the wood, however,
and about half-way down the slope, was a clearing of some ten acres in
extent, and in the centre of the clearing a very neat and pretty-looking
house, with a verandah running all round it, and a thatched roof. The
clearing itself appeared to be in a high state of cultivation, a flower-
garden of about an acre in extent lying immediately in front of the
house, whilst the remainder of the ground was thickly planted with
coffee, peach, banana, orange, and various other fruit-trees.

We lost no time in making our way to this very desirable haven, and had
scarcely passed through the gate in the fence which surrounded the
clearing when we were fortunate enough to encounter the proprietor
himself. He was a very fine handsome specimen of a man, with snow-white
hair and moustache, both closely cropped, and an otherwise clean-shaven
face, which, with his neck and hands, were deeply bronzed by exposure to
the vertical rays of the sun. He was clad in white flannel, his head
being protected by a light and very finely-woven grass hat with an
enormous brim, whilst his feet were encased in a pair of slippers of
soft untanned leather. He was busily engaged among his coffee-trees
when he first caught sight of us; and his start of surprise at our
extraordinary appearance was closely followed up by a profound bow as he
at once came forward and courteously addressed us in Spanish. Unhappily
neither Smellie nor I understood a word of the language, so the second
lieutenant answered the hail in French. The old gentleman shook his
head and, I thought, looked rather annoyed, whereupon Smellie tried him
in English, to which, very much to my surprise, I must confess, he
responded with scarcely a trace of accent.

"Welcome, gentlemen, welcome!" he exclaimed, with outstretched hand.
"So you are English? Well, after all, I mi