On the 13th of April, we quitted Realejo, and aided by land and sea breezes, reached the anchorage off Libertad, on the 15th, by eight a. m. Here I found my good friend Kellett had fully met my wishes, and after breakfast, the surf being then moderate, we risked our persons, not however without a wetting, and gained the Custom house on the beach, which is little better than a mud hut, with a small cabin at one end for the officer. Here we were detained waiting for mules until two p.m., and without any respectable place of shelter, and nothing to amuse us, or even to kill time. This delay became doubly annoying as it would prevent our reaching San Salvador before dark. We mounted our mules, however, which seemed to promise us some little vexation from their miserable condition, and, accompanied by Kellett, set off for San Salvador. The mules, which were before blown in the exertions to evade their pursuers, and much worried by innumerable horse flies, which caused the blood at times to roll freely down their faces, could neither be persuaded nor compelled to move at a faster than cargo rate, little exceeding a walk.
The road is through a very mountainous tract, and for the first five miles the great effort is made to ascend by a bridle road, little better than a goat path, or very similar to the roads between Gorgona and Panama. On reaching the highest pitch from whence we could observe the sea, the scenery grew more interesting, and as the sun declined it became beautiful. At
