The cook’s nondescript mess to which we had been treated every morning since we left New York, and which had been called by way of courtesy “breakfast,” was soon disposed of, and we went on shore, where our colored friend received us with a low bow, informing us at the same time that our house was ready. He led the way to a building not far distant from the “Maison de Commerce,” opening upon aristocratic King street. It was constructed of rough boards, and was elevated on posts, so that everybody who entered had to take a short run and flying leap, and was fortunate if he did not miss his aim and bark his shins in the attempt. It was satisfactory to know that the structure was comparatively new, and that the colonies of scorpions, lizards, house-snakes, cockroaches, and the other numerous, nameless, and nondescript vermin which flourish here, had not had time to multiply to any considerable extent. And though there was a large pile of tobacco in bales in one corner, with no other object movable or immovable in the room, the novelty of the thing was enough to compensate for all deficiencies, and we ordered our baggage to be at once brought to the house. By way, doubtless, of indicating the capacity of the structure, our colored friend told us that this had been the headquarters of a party of Americans bound for California for the space of six weeks, and that forty of the number had contrived to quarter here; a new and practical illustration of the indefinite compressibility of Yankee matter, which surpassed all our previous conceptions. Our friend had provided for us in other ways, and had engaged a place where we might obtain our breakfasts, and proposed to introduce us to the family which was to furnish that important meal. The house was close by, and we were collectively and individually presented to Monsieur S——, who had been a grenadier under Napoleon, had served in numerous campaigns, had been in many bloody battles, and had probably escaped being shot because he was too thin to be hit. We were also introduced to the spouse of Monsieur S——, who was the very reverse of her lord, and who gave us a very good breakfast and superb chocolate, for which we paid only a dollar each per day. It was a blessed thing for our exchequer that we didn’t dine, sup, and lodge there! At the same place breakfasted a couple of Spanish gentlemen, who had come out in the schooner, with a valuable cargo of goods for the interior. Our hostess certainly could not have had the heart to charge them a dollar for breakfast, for they had heard of revolutions and a terrible civil war in Nicaragua, and had been frightened out of their appetites. A “bad speculation” at the best was before them, perhaps pecuniary ruin. We pitied them, but our appetites did not suffer from sympathy.