on his voyage homeward in the beginning of August. At
Mompox, on his way down the river Magdalena, he met Mr. Bodmer, his
successor, with a fresh party of miners from England, on their way up the
country to the quarters which he had just quitted. Next day, six hours
after leaving Mompox, a steamboat was met ascending the river, with
Bolivar the Liberator on board, on his way to St. Bogota; and it was a
mortification to our engineer that he had only a passing sight of that
distinguished person. It was his intention, on leaving Mariquita, to
visit the Isthmus of Panama on his way home, for the purpose of inquiring
into the practicability of cutting a canal to unite the Atlantic and
Pacific--a project which then formed the subject of considerable public
discussion; but his presence being so anxiously desired at home, he
determined to proceed to New York without delay.

Arrived at the port of Cartagena, he had to wait some time for a ship.
The delay was very irksome to him, the more so as the city was then
desolated by the ravages of the yellow fever. While sitting one day in
the large, bare, comfortless public room at the miserable hotel at which
he put up, he observed two strangers, whom he at once perceived to be
English. One of the strangers was a tall, gaunt man, shrunken and
hollow-looking, shabbily dressed, and apparently poverty-stricken. On
making inquiry, he found it was Trevithick, the builder of the first
railroad locomotive! He was returning home from the gold-mines of Peru
penniless. He had left England in 1816, with powerful steam-engines,
intended for the drainage and working of the Peruvian mines. He met with
almost a royal reception on his landing at Lima. A guard of honour was
appointed to attend him, and it was even proposed to erect a statue of
Don Ricardo Trevithick in solid silver. It was given forth in Cornwall
that his emoluments amounted to 100,000 pounds a year, {201} and that he
was making a gigantic fortune. Great, therefore, was Robert Stephenson's
surprise to find this potent Don Ricardo in the inn at Cartagena, reduced
almost to his last shilling, and unable to proceed further. He had
indeed realised the truth of the Spanish proverb, that "a silver-mine
brings misery, a gold-mine ruin." He and his friend had lost everything
in their journey across the country from Peru. They had forded rivers
and wandered through forests, leaving all their baggage behind them, and
had reached th