[The contents of this letter and of Charlie’s (#990928) indicate that the two were mailed together in it.]
Panama, Columbia S.A. [sic]
Sept. 29, ’99
3:30 P.M.
Dearest Folks:
While my hair is drying (just being washed) I’ll add a few words to what Charlie has already said. How glad I would be if I could show you all the scenes I looked upon since yesterday morning. A great variety of shrubbery, grasses, Palms, etc. In some places, the growth is a jungle that not even a donkey (the family horses they keep here) could get through it. But the mountain peaks covered with green foliage look quite pretty, and some of them project their peaks beyond the rain clouds. It really seemed a part of the time in coming from Colon [sic] to Panama as if you were passing through China proper. The houses that are quite fine are set on stilts, to keep insects out, I suppose, and look just about like that old chicken house at home that I wanted to tear down. Others are little huts whose sides and roof are thatched with some kind of long grass. I saw several herds of little long[-]horned cows and goats. We are told [that] the natives must be very hungry for milk before they will milk at all. Then they hunt a cow and get just as much as they need. They know nothing at all about making butter.
The butter we eat here is sent here in little cans from Holland, and we get milk only once a day for our coffee in the morning, and then it is condensed milk that has been sent here. (Blessings) brighten as they leave us) [sic] even [sic] butter and milk, but we have lots of other things to eat,though most of them are seasoned with olive oil, and mixed negroes [sic] men do the cooking.
But that is alright [sic] so long as I don’t have to do it because I am almost as lazy as they (the natives) are. The women sit flat on the floor, and [in] some places the small children run quite naked around them. Sometimes the women have on one garment made just like ma’s chemois [sic; = “che-mise”? “chamois”?] and that [is] torn down in front or in the back. The people here are about all Catholics, and most of them can’t read or write. They are a complete mixture of Spanish, negro, and Chinese and sometimes Italian thrown in to boot. There are scarcely any window panes [sic] and no plastering at all[;] neither are there any carpets and not many windows. The upstairs all have narrow, outside porches with banisters [sic] around them. And double doors open out on these like big barn doors. The upper half has shutters in them to let air in the room when closed. [sic] Our room in the Hotel has three sets of such doors. The walls, ceiling, and floor are painted, with little rugs in front of the single beds. This is a $3 house (in Columbian [sic; should be “Colombian”] money), but flies, rats, dogs, cats, parrots, and almost anything else have free access to the kitchen and dining room as well as any other part of the house.
[Here a pencil has replaced the fountain pen MHW had been using.]
Charlie says he won’t get his letter ready to send, so I’ll add a little more to this and send it. You’ll get it at the same time as the one we left on the Athos. You just ought to see the immense amount of mail that goes through this place. Down at the wharf I saw about 3 doz. large [sic] sacks full of mail from the north. I felt sure that a letter from home was in some of them. It made me feel like tearing them open.
Sat. Morning.
[September 30, 1899]
Yesterday Charlie and I passed one of the city schools. It was a very large, flat shed on stilts with nothing large double doors for windows as well as a place of entrance. There were three teachers on the floor at the same time, and it seemed [as though] each child and teacher was trying to see who could make the most noise. It was an English school and one teacher, after jerking the youngsters into position, said now say C—A—T cat. And each child screamed the letters after the teacher in concert. It was really fun to watch them through the door, and some of the youngsters hopped upon the old benches like monkeys and looked at us with such mischievous grins that a monkey himself would have had to laugh. We passed two schools in crossing the isthmus, probably two or three rods from the R. R. (O! G! it was a sight!) Don’t be shocked at my language. Remember, this is a private letter. At one school they were singing, and the teacher walked to the door to watch the train go by, while of course, the youngsters all hopped around to see us too. We stopped at one little thatched village such as one sees in pictures sometimes, and behold! From that lowly place stepped out a number of black-faced ladies. One dressed in royal purple brocaded satin with a white silk rushing [sic] ruffle around the bottom and very elaborate silk kerchiefs around her neck and head[;] and her baby was dressed in the daintiest long white,lacy garments that nearly hung on [sic] the floor. The others were dressed almost as elaborately, and it was raining hard when they got on and off, and they had no umbrellas. The large white plumes on the hats of those that wore hats were quite stringy. We learned [that] these people were attending the wedding of one of the R. R. men.
Our hotel is situated in front of one of the city parks, which contains [sic; should be “comprises”] about three or four acres. It is really a pretty little spot with quite a variety of tropical shrubbery and pretty walks with benches for weary people to rest. We have three meals a day here: Coffee, breakfast, and dinner. Coffee comes in the morning, which consists of a small roll of French bread and a small cup of coffee as black as ink with a little condensed milk to put in it. Then we can have breakfast any time between 11 and 1 o’clock which consists of four or five courses of “messes,” and dinner any-time from 5 to 7 which consists of about the same number of courses. This is about the coldest time of the year at this place,and today is like a very sultry,hot July or August day at home. Wouldn’t you like to know what there [sic] hot weather is like? They say it is quite healthful here now,but during the hot seasons there is a great deal of “yellow fever here and at Colon”[, sic] but people here are not afraid of it like they are at home. They say [that] if it is properly cared for there is no more danger than in any other fever. Now,don’t get excited because there is no sickness here at all now[;] and it is a great wonder,too,the way some of these people live. We were told that for every tile [sic; should be “mile”] that we crossed from Colon [sic] to Panama some man’s life was lost. Northern men came here to build it and could not stand the work in so great a heat. The R. R. men here at present get $150 in U.S. gold per month. But this is a rather expensive place to live since nearly everything must be shipped here.
[Here MHW returns to using the fountain pen.]
Perhaps you will wonder why this is such a scrappy letter. Well, a part of the time I was talking and writing too, and a part of the time I thought faster than I could write,and a part of the time Charlie was using the pen. We got some laundry done by a Chinaman here. It was done quite nicely, too. In this country the natives take the clothes into the middle of a stream and rub the clothes on large stones, then they pound them with sticks of wood, then they bleach them, then wash them again. How would you like to do our washing at home that way. Though it isn’t much easier when you must carry your water. Our landlady is a little, blue-eyed French lady. She said the native girls say they don’t work because there will be time enough for that when they get married,and after they are married they don’t work because they say it is their husband’s place to support them. And if anyone says “Why do you have so many children if you don’t want to work?” They say “God sent the children and he’ll send something in some way for them to eat”; and they are never troubled about anything.
We just learned that the “Columbia” just arrived this morning, so we’ll hardly get off before tomorrow. There are not quite so many places of interest here as there are in N.Y., so I’m getting a little anxious to go on my journey because I know we will have a much more pleasant and comfortable time on the ship. Charlie has gone to the harbor to learn the real facts about it, and I’m in Miss White’s room writing and she is reading German. Charlie has returned with three great large orang-es, so no more [writing] till they are devoured. They are eaten now. They were green on the outside, but they are riper than any you can get at home and very sweet too.
I almost forgot to tell you that there are two queer[-]looking streetcars [sic] in this town that run after night[fall]. In the daytime [sic] the people ride—I had to stop at this point and pull Charlie’s hair to make him behave)—in nice carriages such as are drawn by two large horses at home, and here they are drawn by one little pony or donkey, and sometimes the carriages are loaded with 5 or passengers and baggage besides.
They say [that] the large horses cannot [sic] stand the heat in this country.
Among the trees that I have seen were specimens of the following[:] cocoa-nut, [sic] orange, banana, [sic] rubber, and bread-fruit, [sic] and many whose names I did not know.
Perhaps we can go on board the ship tonight,but we will not sail before tomorrow.
I do not like to spend my Sundays on the ocean very well,but I suppose it will be as good there as among the Catholics here.
There are a few electric lights in this town, also some oil lamps,but most people burn tallow candles. We have one in our room for a light at night. The chambermaid [sic] is a middle[-]age[d,] dark woman who smokes a cigar all the time [as] she cleans up. Truly, this world has all kinds of people in it except perfectly good ones.
I’m ashamed of this letter, but you must not let anyone see it. For fear I’ll use too much of your time reading this scattered truck [sic] I’ll stop till we get down the Pacific Coast again. Hoping this will find you all happy and well and sending you our best wishes, we’ll stop here.
Dillie & Charlie
Transcribed 2015 by SMK
Posted Dec 26, 2018 at 21:27.
Revised Nov 15, 2022 at 18:39. EDT.
Retrieved Jun 1, 2026 at 04:41.
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