THESE are scattered all across the Continent, hemmed in by the tropical jungle or placed on the high, cool hill. In all there is, first, the news-stand at the station; then, the hotel—really restaurants—where on one side the Americans "gold employees" dine for thirty cents, better than they could for a dollar at home—and more decently; men, women and children. On the other, in a separate building, usually, the "silver employees" foreigners; and there are separate dining and sleeping places and cars for negroes, even on workmen's trains. The Indian has the sense and pride to live his own life down there, apart, as at home in India. There are many in the Zone.

The head men in each of these towns have their own houses; the lesser lights share double ones; and I believe the least of all, bunks; but these matters didn't interest me, nor did sanitary conditions or social evils or advantages.

There are also clubs, I believe, social centres, mothers' meetings, churches, art galleries and museums on the Isthmus, but I never saw them. I was after picturesqueness. Still, it is no wonder, under present conditions, that I never found a man who wanted to "go home"—and some hadn't been home for seven years, and dreaded going—and rightly. The Canal Zone is the best governed section of the United States.