In a small bay lie a fleet of plebeian steamboats, which make omnibus journeys to the little trading centres on the neighbouring coast, and a shoal of Indian canoes or "cayukas" as they are called. Coloured folk are swarming aboard one of the steamboats, whose chimney is belching forth smoke. Indians and coloured folk are trafficking in the cocoanuts, ivory nuts, and bananas with which the cayukas are laden.

Colon strikes us as being in the growing stage between a village and a provincial town. On the quayside of the city, and a few hundred yards from our landing-stage, there is a square bedecked with clumps of the variegated shrubs called "crotons" and with an array of majestic palms, which carry their plume-like heads high in the air. The main street, which is neither broad nor narrow, runs past this square on its way to the railway-station; it is bordered on one side by moderate-sized shops, on the other by an open-air market, office bungalows, and ware-houses mostly of the shed type. At the back of the main street lies a network of little shops and houses. Verandas and dilapidation are the chief characteristics of the buildings. Fascinating as is the heart of the little city, we find it a welcome relief to emerge from a stifling atmosphere on to the seaside parade. In the fresh-air neighbourhood of the sea-front are the commodious bungalows where live the officials who represent foreign interests, together with a few of the superior class Panamanians. Having sampled the best accommodation that Colon can offer her visitors, we are pleased to find a first-class hotel nearing completion in this neighbourhood.

The principal needs of the inhabitants seem to be fruit, iced drinks, shiny boots, and lottery tickets. Amidst the attractive display in the numerous open-fronted fruit-shops are choice tropical products, some of which we recognize as relations of the expensive luxuries to be seen in the very superior fruiterers' establishments at home; but in spite of the aristocratic note struck by pines, avocado pears, and suchlike southern dainties, the general appearance of the Colon fruit-shops reminds us of a costermonger's barrow, which has been stocked from Covent Garden by some smart "Bill," who has the showman's gift for arranging an exhibition. Apple-chains seem to be the favourite means of decoration. Bananas and plantains, as we are not at all surprised to find, are the commonest of the products on sale; but the great "hands" of them, that are hanging from roofs and walls, are a somewhat novel sight. The peanut stove, which is so often to be seen on the footpath just outside the fruit-shops, makes us think of the familiar street scene at home, which is provided by the roast-chestnut seller. The whistle of the peanut stove, as it lets off steam, is quite a musical street cry.

The swinging of many a wicket gives us peep after peep into well-patronized bars, which are gaily adorned with flags and furnished cafe-fashion with little tables. Hawkers compete with the bars for the custom of the thirsty populace. The brightly painted handcarts which they take about the streets are of the kind commonly used by Italian vendors of ice-cream. These travelling bars are equipped with a few glasses, a bucket of water, a dishcloth, and numerous bottles containing very highly coloured liquids. The mottoes which straggle above the shelves suggest that the Panamanians have not a very keen sense of humour—as, for instance, "We trust in God." The barrow bearing this device reminds me of the native cook at a planter's bungalow in Malay, who wrote in letters of icing, "Prepare to meet thy God" on the cake which he made as a Christmas present for his master.

In almost every street a lottery-ticket hawker, usually a woman, has a pitch. The lottery is a regular weekly excitement; in the interests of fair play the drawing of the numbers is done by a little daughter of the people.

The "people," or masses, include the majority of folk born on the Isthmus outside the bounds of the Canal Zone; they are of mixed descent, the principal contributors to the stock being Spaniards, Indians, and Negroes. Pure-bred, or nearly pure-bred, Spaniards make up the small aristocratic class of Panamanians.

Although, geographically speaking, Colon is situated in the Canal Zone, politically it is Panamanian territory. But America has a reserved quarter in the city, and also enjoys the right to superintend the government of the republican city as regards matters—such as sanitation, or the maintenance of order during any political crisis—which have any bearing on the interests of the Canal. The same arrangement holds good for the republican city of Panama.

In Cristobal, the American quarter of Colon, we get a first peep at the mosquito-proof houses which have helped even more than mammoth machinery in the making of the Canal. In appearance they closely resemble a meat safe. Exceptional utility could alone excuse the exceptional ugliness of these human habitations. Only a thoroughly practical boss," with the dogged determination to carry through a gigantic job at any cost, and keenly alive to the fact that the prime factor of success in such an undertaking is a healthy labour force, could have been sufficiently inspired by courage to erect such hideous buildings for the housing of all his employees, from the commanding officer to the negro navvy. The swarms of mosquitoes which inoculated the French employees in the Isthmus with yellow fever and malaria were as powerful an agent as financial mismanagement in wrecking the Franco-Panamanian Canal enterprise. When the Americans took over the work, they at once organized a Sanitary Revolution. The rest of the civilized world scoffed, or said, "Very plucky, but it can't be done," for the Canal Zone was then a renowned death-trap. But Jonathan Boss had learnt much about the wily and pestilential mosquito during his war with Cuba. Convinced that this insect was his most fearsome foe in the Isthmus, he lost no time in waging war on the mosquito throughout the Canal route. By tactics such as are employed in isolating valuable property within the zone of a great fire, the little beasts' means of communication with the immediate region of the Canal route were cut off; mosquitoes cannot fly far without a rest, so around places from which it was particularly desirable to keep them away, the Bush was cleared up to boundaries that could be relied on to pull them up on their journey from the interior before they could get a chance of doing mischief among the Canal-makers. Drastic measures were taken to exterminate mosquitoes throughout the region where the Canal-makers were to work and live. All the houses in Colon and Panama were thoroughly disinfected. Swamps, pools, and suchlike breeding-places beloved by mosquitoes were drained or filled up, rivers and streams were coated with oil. And all the houses erected for the working force were mosquito-proofed with wire gauze. The work of sanitation included the establishment of hospitals for the care of the sick and wounded. Also, with a view to securing and maintaining better health conditions in the cities of Colon and Panama and along the line of the Canal, numerous municipal improvements were undertaken, such as the construction of reservoirs for furnishing a good water-supply, sewerage, pavements, and a system of roads. Owing to the skilful and persevering efforts of the Department of Sanitation of the Isthmian Canal Commission, the Panama Canal region was transformed into a health resort for the carrying out of the "Big Job."