The wealth of the town is not great at present, although I heard many Panamians speak of the abundance which existed ten or fifteen years ago, when sacks of gold were wont to lie like any other heavy merchandize, all night in the principal street, with no one near to watch them. No one thought of stealing, for no one wanted aught. It was, in truth, “the golden age.” I, of course, as you will do, probably, received this legend with some few reserved doubts of its authenticity. As a _pendant_ to it, I was also informed of a curious custom that at the same time prevailed in the Isthmus. In the dance, if a gentleman wished to make himself acceptable to a lady, he would take his hand full of small golden coin, and throw it among the circle of spectators, (every one is admitted to the dances,) so that it became a matter of fashionable boast among the fair ones, “I have had so many pieces thrown for me,” etc. etc. But things are not now “as they used to was,” and a Panamian is now apt to consider the possession of a real regular immutilated doubloon a god-send: the currency being in what they call _cut money_—that is, the large coin cut or divided into bitts of the denomination of dollars, reals, &c. &c. While at Panama I made a trip to some of the Pacific Islands in the neighborhood: the principal one I visited was Tobago, one of the most curious and striking spots I have ever seen. The island is about eight miles in length, and four or five in breadth, rising into a high hill in the centre, thickly wooded, and yet there is not a tree upon the island, that does not bear a fruit. I was there during a church festival, and there was uninterrupted dancing the whole week. Some of the women are very beautiful, and among them there was one to whom I had nearly lost my heart during the short time I was at Tobago, so transcendant was her beauty. I do not call it loveliness—it was passion, (and so my fit was soon over.) She had no face—do you know what I mean? it was all _feature_. Excuse a dauber's smacking of “the shop.” And then what a model was she for the sculptor! A fine though not a high forehead, upon which the jetty hair was most simply yet tastefully parted; eyes large and dark as the hair; but with _such_ a fire in them! Her nose was beautifully chiselled, and her disparted lips disclosed teeth more white than pearl. Her form, so youthful was she, was not developed, and figure, as such, she had none. But what passion was in that soul! She crossed my path in the dance, at church, on the island's beach, and every where it was the same—she was all soul. I saw her angry, and I thought I would not rouse her for the world; and then, _reveried_ I, what must she be, if in love! The thought threw me into a brown study, out of which I awoke, and I soon began to feel completely in love—but it was with the _pine_ apples of Tobago! Never ate I such delicious fruit before as this, the abundant