Pacific. Till at length in mid-afternoon we came to the top of the
descent to Pedro Miguel and knew that the end of our district was
at hand. So powerful was the breeze from the Atlantic that our six
man-power engine sweated profusely as they toiled against it, even
on the downgrade of the return to Empire.

To "Scotty" had been assigned my Empire "recalls" and I had been
given a new and virgin territory,--namely, the town of Paraiso. It
lies "somewhat back from the village street," that is, the P.R.R.
Indeed, trains do not deign to notice its existence except on
Sundays. But there is the temporary bridge over the canal which
few engineers venture to "snake her across" at any great speed,
and the enumerator housed in Empire need not even be a graduate
"hobo" to be able to drop off there a bit after seven in the
morning and prance away up the chamois path into the town.

Wherever on the Zone you espy a town of two-story skeleton
screened buildings scattered over hills, with winding gravel roads
and trees and flowers between there you may be sure live American
"gold" employees. Yet somehow the Canal Commission had dodged the
monotony you expected, somehow they have broken up the grim lines
that make so dismal the best-intentioned factory town. There are
hints that the builders have heard somewhere of the science of
landscape gardening. At times these same houses are deceiving, for
all I. C. C. buildings bear a strong family resemblance, and it is
only at the door that you know whether it is bachelors' quarters,
a family residence, or the supreme court.

From the outside world "P'reeso" scarcely draws a glance of
attention; but once in it you find a whole Zone town with all the