In case they do come on, agrees to make it lively for them. Is
quieted down at last, and marched off to prison, by a squad of
Grenadian troops. Is musical as he passes the hotel, and smiling
sweetly upon the ladies and children on the balcony, expresses a
distinct desire to be an Angel, and with the Angels stand. After
which he leaps nimbly into the air and imitates the war-cry of the
red man.
. . . .

The natives amass wealth by carrying valises, &c., then squander it
for liquor. My native comes to me as I sit on the veranda of the
Howard House smoking a cigar, and solicits the job of taking my
things to the cars next morning. He is intoxicated, and has been
fighting, to the palpable detriment of his wearing apparel; for he
has only a pair of tattered pantaloons and a very small quantity of
shirt left.

We go to bed. Eight of us are assigned to a small den upstairs,
with only two lame apologies for beds.

Mosquitoes and even rats annoy us fearfully. One bold rat gnaws at
the feet of a young Englishman in the party. This was more than
the young Englishman could stand, and rising from his bed he asked
us if New Grenada wasn't a Republic? We said it was. "I thought
so," he said. "Of course I mean no disrespect to the United States
of America in the remark, but I think I prefer a bloated monarchy!"
He smiled sadly--then handing his purse and his mother's photograph
to another English person, he whispered softly. "If I am eaten up,
give them to Me mother--tell her I died like a true Briton, with no
faith whatever in the success of a republican form of government!"