To the right the Tola valley stretches to the northward, and all around high and wooded hills encircle the valleys except directly in front where a narrow gateway in the coast hills opens to the Pacific. In the bottom of this valley are a few farms and through it wander devious roads. Beyond the narrow gateway in the hills, less than three miles of level swampy _salinas_ reach to the surf of the Pacific. The views from the hills which flank the gateway of the Rio Grande, at La Flor, are wonderfully attractive. I well remember one camp on the hillside, from which in one direction the eye takes in the fertile valley of the Tola and Rio Grande, backed by the rolling hills of the "Divide" and over them the symmetrical peak of Ometepe, its base washed by the waves of the great lake. In the other direction the Pacific lies apparently but a stone's throw below, the little port of Brito at one's very feet. This same camp inspired one young engineer and enthusiast to express himself something as follows: "What if, in this camp, we should, like Rip Van Winkle, sleep for ten years, and then awakening look about us? We are still at Brito, but instead of being in the wilderness, we look down upon a thriving city. In the harbor are ships from all ports of the world. Ships from San Francisco, bound for New York, about to pass through the canal and shorten their journey by 10,000 miles. Ships from Valparaiso, headed for New York, which will take the short cut and save 5000 miles and the dread storms of Cape Horn. At many a masthead floats the British flag, and vessels from Liverpool, with their bows turned towards San Francisco, have shortened their journey by 7000 miles." "We go aboard one of the many steamers flying the 'stars and stripes' and start eastward. All along the line the face of the country has changed; the fertile shores of the Tola basin are occupied by cacao plantations, fields have replaced forests, villages have grown to towns, and factories driven by the exhaustless water power furnished by the canal have sprung up on every available site." "Along the shore of the lake are immense dry docks, and vessels are resting in this huge fresh water harbor before setting out again on their long voyages. The broad bosom of the noble San Juan is quivering with the strokes of tireless propellors. The roar of the great dam at Ochoa is heard for a moment and then the eastern section of the canal is entered. Here the country is scarcely recognizable so greatly has it changed. Wilderness and marsh have disappeared, and only great fields of plantains and bananas and dark green orange groves are to be seen. A day from Brito and the steamer's bow is rising to the long blue swell of the Caribbean at Greytown."