The voyage to Panama, in the course of which we put in at Manzanillo, Mexico, for coal, occupied fourteen days. Much space might be absorbed with a full description of it; but it would be scarcely pertinent. Let us close our eyes on the voyage, imagine a lapse of two weeks, and we find the good steamer _Nevada_ quietly anchored at early morn in the picturesque harbor of Panama, New Granada. There are no piers for the accommodation of large vessels at Panama, so that ocean steamers must anchor three miles from shore, in the deep water, and be relieved of their cargoes and passengers, or loaded therewith, by means of lighters and small steamboats. We rose from our berths on the morning the _Nevada_ anchored in the harbor of Panama, elated with the prospect of crossing the Isthmus and taking another steamer at Aspinwall for New York. It was, therefore, somewhat to our chagrin that we learned that an accident had happened to the connecting steamer, _Dakotah_, that although due at Aspinwall five or six days previously, she had barely arrived, and that we must lie at Panama and wait till she should have discharged her cargo. The prospective delay was variously estimated by the officers at from “a few days,” to “some little time.” The natives learned that we were to lie in the harbor for some days, and soon flocked about the steamer in small boats, offering to convey to shore all who wished to visit the rusty old city. The price they asked was _cuarto rialos_ per head—which means half-a-dollar. Many of us took advantage of this means of escaping from the confinement of the vessel, and in an hour or two the greater portion of the steamer _Nevada’s_ “population” might have been seen intermingled with the inhabitants of benighted Panama. Prominent among those who visited the city might have been seen the owner of a certain crutch. It was now the “rainy season,” but the heat, between the showers that visited us daily, was intense and oppressive. To counteract its effects, the thirsty Caucasians resorted to certain iced drinks, containing stimulants, which were to be had at the saloons at twenty-five cents (coin) each. I regret to chronicle the fact that many of them used these beverages to an extent rather calculated to engender thirst (next morning) than to allay it. As the shades of evening began to fall over the tropics, three persons, Monsieur Figaro, a Frenchman; Mr. Hawes, an Englishman; and I, John Smith, Esq., an Americo-Caucasian, wended their way down a street of Panama, with the intention of taking a small boat at the beach, and returning to the steamer _Nevada_. Now, at the lower end of this street, near the archway in the city’s wall, affording an outlet to the beach, there is a certain saloon with the alluring name of “OREGONIAN SHADES.” The proprietor is an intelligent native, about the color of new leather who speaks both Spanish and English.